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It began with a mistake, nothing more.
There was a disturbance at Quark’s—so, business as usual—and Odo was called in to break up the fight. A trading vessel had just come in from Moxan-5, a former territory of the Klingon Empire. Coincidentally, a Klingon ship in need of repairs had docked the day before. So Odo was unsurprised to find a broad, imposing man in one of the mosaic-patterned robes the Moxan traders wore shouting drunkenly at a Klingon. He was even less surprised when the Klingon pulled a knife.
Odo extended his arm across the room, latching onto the Klingon’s shoulder. He yanked him back just as he lunged at the Moxan.
“Break it up, you two, or you’ll be finishing your fight in a cell,” Odo snarled.
“Odo, you’re here!” cried Quark from behind the bar. “And not a moment too soon. I would’ve stopped them myself, but you know how it is with Klingons. I didn’t want to risk getting married again.”
Odo would have happily ignored him, but the Moxan blinked at Quark’s words. Moxans tended to be larger and hairier than the average humanoid, and this one appeared larger and hairier than most Moxans. He looked like a confused, shaggy bear.
“Odo?” the Moxan repeated, scanning Odo up and down. “You’re a female?”
An unexpected, inexplicable, but not unwelcome feeling swept over Odo. Before he could even begin to figure out what it was, Quark burst out laughing, and the moment was over.
Odo confiscated the Klingon’s weapon and gave him a three-day ban from the bar. With any luck, his ship would be repaired by then anyway. As the Klingon stormed off, Odo lectured the Moxan, threatening the same punishment if he caused any more disturbances. Then, worst of all, Odo had to deal with Quark.
The Ferengi watched everything play out with his elbows propped on the bar, his chin on top of his interlaced fingers, and a fiendish smile on his face. “Don’t think this means you’ll get a discount on ladies’ night, Constable.”
“If I was a lady, I wouldn’t be caught dead here,” Odo scoffed.
As he spoke, a memory came to mind. He saw Major Kira doing her best not to smile as Lieutenant Dax linked arms with her, trying to convince her to go out for drinks.
“C’mon! It’s ladies’ night.” Dax’s voice was playful, her eyes bright and beguiling. “I’ll cover your shots.”
If any humanoid had the resolve to withstand Dax’s near-irresistible charm, it was Kira. But she surrendered with a smile.
Odo tried to imagine Dax taking his arm like that, or Kira smiling that way at him. He couldn’t. That shouldn’t have mattered. He shouldn’t have tried to imagine it in the first place—he had no idea why he did. And yet, the failed attempt left him oddly desolate.
Quark’s voice jarred Odo from his thoughts. “I feel sorry for their species,” he cackled, nodding at the table of Moxan traders. “If their females look anything like you, I’m surprised they mate at all.”
Because even if Odo assumed a female form, his face would be the same. No one would see him any differently. There was no point.
Not that Odo wanted to be female, of course. He didn’t want to be male, either. Technically speaking, he wasn’t, but he had more important things to do than argue over meaningless humanoid concepts like gender. He looked male, so that was how people thought of him.
Did it matter that being seen as male left Odo indifferent and the thought of being female inspired…more?
No. He was never going to think about it again.
Odo thought about it again. And again. And again. Actually, he never stopped thinking about it. He brought up the Moxan’s remark to almost everyone he knew. Odo couldn’t have said what reaction he was hoping for, but it wasn’t the mild amusement or outright laughter the story tended to provoke.
“Can you believe he thought I was a female?” Odo kept asking, not willing to admit that a deeply buried part of himself wished, just once, the answer would be “Yes.”
The only person he hadn’t told was Kira. He couldn’t bear the thought of her laughing at him.
But Odo did eventually work up the courage to tell Dax. Although he liked the lieutenant and respected her a great deal, he didn’t…admire her the way he did Kira. In theory, that should make any disappointing reactions from her easier to bear. However, in this instance, it was almost as bad. If Jadzia Dax, of all people, could only see him as male—
To make sure they were alone, Odo called Dax to his office. There were some minor security concerns in her department that he thought she should be aware of, but nothing that warranted a scheduled, face-to-face meeting, and Dax knew it. Her expression was serious enough as she listened, but her eyes sparkled with barely suppressed mischief the whole time.
Finally, Odo managed to work his encounter with the Moxan into the conversation. Dax laughed, but she laughed at everything, so he told himself it didn’t matter.
“You know, Curzon visited Moxan-5 once,” she told him, leaning forward over his desk. “He was only there for a week, and he met three different women named Odo. Apparently, it’s a common girl’s name there. Anyway, he ended up going home with one of them and had a threesome with her and her wife! It’s actually the first thing I thought of when we met, but it’s not the kind of story you share right away.” Dax laughed again. “I mean, could you imagine? ‘Hello, I’m Jadzia Dax. You remind me of a woman I had a threesome with in a past life.’”
It took Odo a moment to find his voice. “I reminded you of a woman?”
“The one Curzon slept with even looked a little like you.” Dax was nonchalant, clearly unaware of the bombs she was setting off in Odo’s head. “Her hair was the same color, she was around your height…maybe a little taller. Curzon always had a weakness for tall women. One time, he—Odo?”
Odo’s face must have betrayed him somehow. What did Dax see—envy? Yearning? Shame? Whatever it was, it had been powerful enough to stop her mid-gossip session. So far, Odo hadn’t seen anything other than approaching warships manage that. He got up abruptly, turned away, and said, “You can go now, Lieutenant. We’ve discussed everything we needed to.”
Dax stood, too, but she didn’t leave. “I don’t think we have.” Her voice was firm but kind. “There’s something you want to tell me, isn’t there?”
Odo didn’t know whether to yell at her to leave or confess everything, so he stayed silent.
When it was clear he wasn’t going to respond, Dax hazarded a guess. “You have feelings for Kira, don’t you?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Odo snapped, turning on her. “I—” Odo realized his mistake. He shut his mouth, then got rid of it altogether. That seemed to be the only way to keep from embarrassing himself further.
“Hey, I didn’t mean to upset you,” said Dax, setting a hand on Odo’s arm. He glowered at it, but he didn’t pull away, and neither did she. “For what it’s worth, I won’t tell anyone.”
Odo sighed through his nose, then put his mouth back. “I guess that’s worth something.”
“Unless you want me to, of course.”
Odo snatched his arm back. “Obviously not! Why would I?”
Dax shrugged. “I’m good friends with Kira. I figured I could talk to her for you, if you’re too shy—”
“That is not—”
“—or I could help you plan what to say when you ask her out, give you some tips for the first date—”
As absurd as the situation was to begin with, it had somehow gotten worse. Why had Odo ever wanted advice from known gossipmonger and agent of chaos Jadzia Dax?
He loomed over her. “I have no intentions of approaching Kira with this.” Odo made his voice as harsh and forbidding as possible. “I never have, and I never will.”
It was hard to intimidate someone who’d lived through several lifetimes. Dax just asked, “Why not?”
She was so calm, Odo felt ridiculous by comparison. His anger deflated, but it didn’t disappear. “Because,” he hissed, “there’s no point. You and I both know she doesn’t see me that way.” Now the anger was gone—despair drowned it out. Odo hadn’t brought Dax here to discuss Kira, but it went back to the same problem, didn’t it? “She’s interested in women, and I—I’m nothing.”
Dax took his hand—Odo hadn’t even realized it was balled into a fist until she touched him—and clenched it in both of hers. “No, you’re not,” she told him, eyes blazing with a ferocity that reminded him of Kira. Then she smiled as only Jadzia could. “You’re Odo.”
Odo let her hold his hand for another moment, then pulled away with a sigh. “I’m not what she’s looking for.”
“Because you’re not a woman?”
Odo refused to let Dax see how deeply that question cut. “Exactly. Now, if we can put this ridiculous conversation behind us—”
“You could be, if you wanted to.” Dax gave him an inquiring look. “Do you?”
“It’s not that simple!” Odo snarled, unable to keep a note of pain from creeping into his voice.
Dax’s face lit up. “So that’s what all this is about! Odo,” she said, her expression softening, “you’ve got nothing to worry about. Sure, it takes some adjustment, getting to know people as a woman when they’re used to seeing you as a man, but they get used to it.” She shrugged. “That, or you outgrow them. Not every relationship survives the change, but the ones that are meant to will.”
Odo resisted the comfort in her words. “This isn’t the same.”
“No, but it’s close enough.” Dax smiled. “When you’ve been around as long as I have, you learn to take what you can get.”
She had a point. “You’re right, Lieutenant. I…appreciate your help.”
“Anytime,” she said softly. Then she pulled Odo into a hug that would’ve broken a Klingon’s back. “And I mean it! Anytime you have a question, or you need advice about this, or you just want to come over to my quarters for some girl-talk—”
Though grateful for Jadzia’s acceptance, Odo couldn’t help but be overwhelmed. The changeling wriggled out of her embrace, then recalesced. The alterations to her form were subtle, but Jadzia caught them right away.
“I love the new uniform!”
Instead of the comparatively shapeless clothes Odo usually wore, she now had a high-collared shirt, a belt at the waist, and close-fitting pants, like Kira’s.
Odo cleared her throat, self-conscious. “It seemed like a good place to start.”
“Then it’s the perfect place,” said Jadzia, and Odo gave her a small smile.
***
Odo’s new uniform attracted little attention, which was both a relief and a bit of a disappointment. She wasn’t ready for the conversations more drastic changes might have led to, but it would have been nice to be noticed. At least, it would have been nice to be noticed by people other than Quark.
After her conversation with Jadzia, Odo went on her usual rounds, eventually ending up at Quark’s. Quark was by the dabo tables, ineptly consoling a sobbing Bajoran man.
“I lost everything!” the Bajoran slurred. “My wife’s gonna kill me.”
“Females! Who needs ’em?” Quark replied, patting the man on the back. “All they do is slow you down on your great ascent up the latinum stairway. Here,” he added, steering the gambler back toward the table. “Why don’t you give it another spin? Keep at it, and you’ll win it all back in no time!”
The Bajoran man reached for the table, but Odo called out, “Stop right there!” The Bajoran man froze, and Odo added, “This table is currently under inspection. No one can use it until I’ve cleared it for operation. It could take hours, if not days.”
The Bajoran looked around. All the other dabo tables were occupied, which Odo had already known. Sighing, the Bajoran shoved his hands in his pockets and shuffled out of the bar.
“Under inspection, my lobes!” Quark spat. “You just wanted to scare away my customer.”
Odo made a show of studying the table closely, leaning in and giving a conscientious nod before running her hand along the edge. Then she knelt, examining the underside of the table. “And that surprises you?”
“I—” Quark cut himself off. When he spoke again, indignation had given way to confusion. “Did you go to Garak’s?”
Garak was the only other person on the station Odo watched as closely as Quark. While Quark was more of a nuisance day-to-day, Garak was undoubtedly the greater security risk on the whole. Was Garak up to something now? Did Quark know about it?
Odo rose, turning to face Quark. “I always keep an eye on him, but if you think you can use his crimes as a distraction from your own disreputable endeavors—”
“Who’s talking about crimes? I just wanted to know if he tailored your pants.” Quark looked Odo up and down, then licked his lips. “It looks like some good craftsmanship went into them.”
Odo refused to be even a little bit flattered by this. Still, she mulled Quark’s words over in the privacy of her quarters later. She observed herself in the mirror, paying special attention to her legs. She hadn’t done anything to give them an especially feminine shape, but the new fit of her uniform did mean they were more defined.
Odo turned, ready to head for her bucket, then stopped in her tracks. She hadn’t changed the size of her ass, but the craftsmanship, as Quark put it, was certainly more noticeable. No wonder the Ferengi had been gawking. Maybe Odo had overshot the mark a bit. She considered making her uniform slightly looser, then decided against it. Kira’s was just as tight, and no one could accuse her of looking unprofessional.
The urge to regenerate was getting stronger, and the last thing Odo needed was more shapeshifting. However, studying her reflection in profile, she got an idea. She gave herself a small pair of breasts, then just as quickly flattened her chest, turning away from the mirror. Odo hadn’t disliked the look of that at all, but…not yet.
There was a meeting in Ops first thing the next morning. Odo reached the turbolift, then decided to wait for Kira. She hadn’t the major since her talk with Jadzia, and she was curious to know what Kira would make of her uniform change.
The only trouble was, if anyone arrived before Kira, Odo would have to ride the turbolift with them or explain herself. That was out of the question, so Odo camouflaged herself as a wall panel and waited. This clever maneuver saved her from having to make conversation with Bashir and O’Brien, which made it more than worth it. Then Odo saw Kira approaching. Hastily, she assumed humanoid form.
“Major Kira,” said Odo with a nod, leaning against the wall in a way meant to look casual. The truth was, she hadn’t been able to fully shapeshift before Kira spotted her. Part of Odo’s matter was still seeping back into place. She focused on keeping the front of her body as solid-looking as possible, hoping Kira wouldn’t notice any oozing or gurgling.
“Morning, Odo,” Kira replied through a yawn. She rubbed her eyes, then sighed. “The replicator in my quarters is down again. Jadzia said she’d grab me some coffee, though.”
Jadzia was notorious for being late to morning meetings, but Sisko, having dealt with Curzon Dax before his first cup of raktajino, never punished her for it.
“Where would we be without Jadzia Dax?” Odo asked.
“Dealing with Bashir first thing in the morning with no caffeine? I’d be in jail within the hour,” said Kira wryly. Then she cocked her head. “You look different today.” She smiled, her eyes and nose crinkling. Odo was tempted to look away so the embarrassing urge to kiss her wouldn’t be so overwhelming, but the only thing worse than that would be taking her eyes off Kira, so she didn’t. “You changed up your uniform a little.”
“It’s well within regulations.” Odo’s voice was sharp with panic.
Kira raised an eyebrow. “I’d hope so, otherwise I’m in trouble. You’re dressed just like me.” Then she smiled again. “It suits you.”
Odo trembled inside, so happy and flustered, she could hardly maintain her form—a vulnerability she’d rather die than admit to. The tendency had been far more pronounced during what Odo considered her childhood, when any strong emotion could make her lose control and relapse into her natural state. Now, she just tended to get a little runny around the edges. Odo clasped her hands behind her back so Kira wouldn’t see her fingers melting.
“Thank you,” she said.
***
In the coming weeks, Odo continued to experiment with her appearance in her quarters. Outside, she wore the female uniform but made no further changes. This was starting to wear on her. A part of her wanted to get things over with, but the idea of revealing herself to everyone at once was too daunting. Little by little, she came up with a plan. Then she messaged Jadzia Dax and asked to meet in her quarters.
“I don’t want to make any kind of announcement,” Odo told her. “I don’t want it to be an ordeal.” She hesitated. “And I want to start with Kira. If the two of you know, when I start—presenting more—”
“You’ll already have us on your side, and it’ll be easier,” Jadzia finished for her, giving Odo’s hand a squeeze. Odo looked down, appreciating Jadzia’s nails, which were kept short, but painted cool blue. Jadzia tracked her gaze and grinned. “Do you want me to do yours? I’ve been begging Kira to let me do her nails all week.”
Odo was touched by the offer, but she hid behind a scoff. “I’m a changeling. I don’t need a manicure.” That made it all the more embarrassing that Odo kind of wanted one anyway.
“That’s true,” said Jadzia. “You could just give yourself whatever nails you want. If you’re asking me,” she added, which Odo wasn’t, “there’s this human style called a French manicure—I think you could really pull it off.”
“Ah, the French,” said Odo. “I’ve heard of them.”
Once, she had been shadowing Garak while he was on a lunch date with Bashir. The two of them were engaged in their favorite pastime: bickering about literature. Bashir had recommended a book called Les Miserables, and Garak evidently found it miserable.
“But you might like it, Constable,” said Garak, turning to Odo. “You’re a regular Inspector Javert.”
Odo hmphed, assuming that was some kind of insult. However, she had been curious enough to look into the book—though not curious enough to read it, once she found out how long it was. She had crimes to stop, after all. She settled for reading a summary and skimming some information on the book’s history.
None of that helped Odo imagine what a French manicure looked like.
Meanwhile, Jadzia had been on her own train of thought. “You know, you can do everything yourself appearance-wise, but sometimes it’s fun to have your friends help out. Think of it as a bonding activity.”
“Do you and Kira bond that way?” Odo asked.
Jadzia laughed. “When she owes me a favor, sure. Kira isn’t really the makeover type. She’d rather be playing sports in a holosuite or something. Keiko, on the other hand—” She launched into a story about how she’d helped Keiko pick out a new dress before the ill-fated vacation where her husband got arrested by the Cardassians, then went on to explain how using Keiko’s choice of shampoo gave her the shiniest hair any host of the Dax symbiont had ever had. Just as Odo started tuning her out, she said, “Maybe we could try doing something with your hair, if you don’t want a manicure.”
Odo lifted a hand to her hair. “I’ve been practicing a few things.”
“Can I see?” Jadzia asked.
Odo brushed her hair forward, covering her ears, and lengthened it by a couple inches. When she finished, it was midway between chin and shoulder-length. Odo avoided Jadzia’s eyes; no one had ever seen her like this. “I can make it longer, but…I think I’d like to keep it like this.”
“It looks great!” Jadzia’s encouragement helped Odo relax a little. She met her friend’s eyes, and Jadzia beamed. Then she tilted her head to the side, considering. “Not the easiest length to style, but we’ll think of something. Let me get my comb.”
Jadzia brushed Odo’s hair in front of her bathroom mirror. Odo’s hair was thin and coarse—it was hard enough shaping all those individual follicles without worrying about the texture—but it looked nice and sleek once Jadzia ran her comb through it. She also fluffed it a bit with her fingers, working in some volume. Odo turned her head from side to side, stunned by how much of a difference these minor adjustments made.
Then Jadzia brought out her collection of hairpins, clasps, and ribbons. The first thing she did was braid a finger’s width of hair on either side of Odo’s head. She tried to tie them together in the back with a ribbon, but they didn’t quite meet, so Odo obligingly made those strands of hair longer.
“What do you think?” Jadzia asked.
Odo studied her reflection, running a fingertip along one of the braids. The style struck her as too fanciful for everyday wear, but it was charming nonetheless. It seemed like something a woman in a deliberately old-fashioned Terran romance novel might wear to a garden party or a stroll through sunlit woods. Then Odo imagined herself in the Bajoran woods, hand in hand with Kira Nerys—
“We should try something else,” said Odo hastily, “something—sensible.”
“You always look sensible,” Jadzia replied, unfastening the braids. “Don’t you want to have some fun for a change?”
“No.”
“All right, fine.” Jadzia pulled Odo’s hair into a simple ponytail. “There. It doesn’t get any more sensible than that.”
Odo side-eyed Jadzia. She wore a ponytail, and no one could accuse her of sensibility. Sighing, Odo returned her gaze to the mirror. From the front, this look wasn’t so different from her masculine default. She turned her head to the side and studied the ponytail itself. It was short, a little spiky. Odo lengthened her hair until it hung down rather than bristling up. That was better. Maybe she would wear her hair long on occasion after all.
They went through every style Jadzia’s inventive mind could come up with. In the end, the only one Odo would ever seriously consider was the ponytail—and maybe the first hairstyle, if a suitable occasion ever arose.
Jadzia held out a long, elegant clasp, pale blue with a gold fastener. “You should take this,” she said. “I never wear it, and the color’s a great match for your eyes. You can use it to hold your hair back.”
Odo opened her mouth to point out that she didn’t need it, because her hair wasn’t actually hair and she could shapeshift an exact replica of that clasp into it if she wanted to. Then she remembered their conversation earlier about bonding activities. She extended her hand, and Jadzia gave her the clasp. Odo wrapped her fingers around it, feeling its cool smoothness. She thanked Jadzia for the gift and was rewarded with a smile.
“What do you think? Should we try some makeup next?”
“I don’t think so,” said Odo, turning away from the mirror.
“Why not?”
Odo suppressed a snarl. Wasn’t it obvious? “It won’t work. Not with my face. I’m not like you, or Kira…” Odo’s anger bled away. She felt empty without it. Defenseless. She shortened her hair back to its typical length and thought about giving Jadzia the clasp back, but she held it tighter instead.
“Every species looks different,” said Jadzia calmly. “The way I see it, if I can get a Klingon bride dolled up for her wedding, I should be able to figure out something that works for you.”
Despite herself, Odo couldn’t help but ask, “When did you do a Klingon’s wedding makeup?”
“Technically, that was Curzon, but I remember the tips and tricks.”
That raised more questions than it answered, but Odo just sighed. “I don’t want to look like a Klingon bride.” And she didn’t want makeup calling attention to her deficiencies, either. Her eyes were so sunken in, there was no point in trying to highlight them, and how was she supposed to wear lipstick with no lips?
“Well, if you ever change your mind, you know who to ask.”
Odo left not long after that, though she made sure to thank Jadzia first. In addition to everything she’d done that evening, she agreed to invite Kira over the next day so Odo could introduce her to her new look in relative privacy.
The following evening, Odo waited on Jadzia’s couch, staring down at her knotted hands. Although she still refused to let Jadzia do her nails, after looking at some pictures her friend provided, Odo had decided to give herself a French manicure after all.
Odo’s hair hung at her preferred length, combed out and shining. Inspired by Jadzia’s clasp, Odo had shifted herself gold barrettes just above each ear, giving her hair the appearance of being tucked back. A sensible look, but decidedly feminine.
Then there was Odo’s outfit. Since she wasn’t on duty, she had taken further liberties with her uniform. She kept the general color scheme, the high collar, and the belt, but the insignia was gone, and instead of pants, Odo now had a flowing skirt that ended just below her knees. She’d made her boots a little taller but decided against adding heels.
Odo unclasped her hands, then folded her arms over her chest. That was the change she was most worried about. Every other adjustment to her figure had been subtle—a slight curve here or there, some softened edges. But there was no missing the small yet undeniable breasts Odo had given herself.
What would Kira say?
Finally, she arrived. Jadzia led her in, and Odo rose, trying not to look frightened, hopeful, or anything else. Kira’s eyes widened, and she brought a hand to her mouth. Odo tensed, bracing herself for the worst, but Kira broke into a radiant smile.
Her eyes were so full of pride, Odo thought back to the way Kira had looked at her when she described what it was like to become a bird. Kira threw her arms around Odo, pulling her close, and said the same words as in that distant nebula: “I’m so happy for you!”
Odo didn’t give a damn what anyone else thought of her, so things were easier after that.
There was another morning meeting in Ops the next day. Once again, Odo and Kira took the turbolift together. This time, they were holding hands. Kira let go just before the doors opened, and Odo stepped out.
Except for Jadzia—running late as usual—everyone else was already there. Sisko raised an eyebrow at Odo’s new look, but he only smiled and said, “Glad you could make it, Constable.”
O’Brien’s brow furrowed. He opened his mouth, then closed it with a shrug, seeming to decide that this wasn’t any of his business. Beside him, Bashir leaned forward in his seat, intrigued.
“Odo, are you going undercover somewhere?”
“No, she isn’t,” said Kira, giving Bashir a pointed look.
Bashir held up his hands. “I was just asking her a question.”
And that was that. A few times, someone—usually O’Brien—would slip up when referring to Odo, but they always corrected themselves. Odo could tell everyone was making an effort, and she appreciated it. She also appreciated the lack of prying questions and insulting remarks.
Of course, she still had to deal with Quark. Odo decided to have a little fun with him.
Odo kept Quark under close observation, but not in her humanoid form. Mostly, she watched him while disguised as a dusty bottle of kanar at the back of the bar. By the time the night rush hit, Quark was clearly unsettled by her absence. He kept glancing over his shoulder, double-checking the number of glasses on trays, frowning at the door.
When Rom came over to replicate a meal for some customers, Quark sidled up to him. “You haven’t seen Odo around today, have you? It’s suspicious,” he continued with narrowed eyes, not giving his brother time to answer. “Usually, he’d’ve been in here at least four times by now, breathing down my neck—”
“I don’t breathe,” Odo growled, materializing in her humanoid form. Quark shrieked, jumping behind Rom and cowering. “And I’m not a he.”
Quark’s eyes widened. “Odo?” He came out from behind Rom to get a better look. He swallowed hard, lingering on her breasts. “Not bad,” he said, a little breathless. He shook his head. “Looks like I might have to give you that ladies’ night discount after all.”
“You’d better,” said Odo, leaning down to get in his face. “I know respecting females is a foreign concept to you, but if you don’t respect that I am one, I will throw you in prison for the rest of your miserable life.”
Quark rolled his eyes. “You can’t do that!” He turned to Rom and whispered, “She can’t do that, right?”
Rom grinned stupidly. “She’s pretty, brother.”
Just to get on Quark’s nerves, Odo smiled at Rom, then blew him a kiss. Rom chuckled to himself, and Quark smacked him across the back of the head.
“Moron! Get back to work! I don’t pay you to stand around ogling my archnemesis.”
***
As time passed, Odo became increasingly comfortable with her feminine form. No humanoid disguise could compete with her natural state, of course, but while presenting male had only ever been a tiresome obligation, this somehow felt closer to the truth.
She liked getting to decide how to style her hair in the morning when she coalesced. She liked it when Jadzia linked arms with her and tried to drag her to Quark’s for ladies’ night, even if Odo would rather throw herself out of an airlock than actually go. She liked being referred to as “she” and “her” and even “Lady Constable,” as Garak, with his usual sardonic courtesy had taken to calling her.
Quark thankfully hadn’t given Odo any nicknames, but he did manage to work her gender into every conversation.
“Odo!” he would exclaim, oozing insincere charm. “My favorite female that isn’t my mother!” or “The most beautiful girl on the station’s back, everybody! Doesn’t that grimace of hers just brighten up the whole bar?” or “You know, if you get tired of that uniform of yours, I’ve got some extra dabo girl gear in the back.”
Well, every choice had its consequences, Odo supposed, and she was no stranger to thinly veiled flirtations from Quark. If that was the worst thing she had to contend with as a result of this change, it was more than worth it.
Anything would have been worth it, just for that first smile from Kira.
She and Odo’s relationship, already close, had deepened. Kira could be fiercely protective, but she knew Odo didn’t need a protector. She was more than capable of standing up for herself. What she needed was tenderness and understanding, and Kira needed someone who understood that she could be tender. Gentleness was a stranger to them both, but they met her together.
Kira loved to brush Odo’s hair for her. The first time, Odo was so overwhelmed, her face started melting a bit. Fortunately, they weren’t in front of a mirror, so Kira didn’t notice. Kira also didn’t notice any of the times Odo made her hair a little longer mid-brushing session, just to make the moment last.
Sometimes, Kira would hold up one of Odo’s hands and marvel at her always-perfect manicure—her own nails tended to be chipped at best, bitten to the quick at worst. Then Kira would stroke Odo’s knuckles, murmuring about the softness of her skin. Kira’s hands were more worn than one would expect given her age, the consequence of a hard life, but Odo welcomed her touch with quiet reverence.
Best of all, Kira even seemed to love the parts of Odo that hadn’t changed at all. She kissed Odo’s nose—a favor Odo was always happy to return—and caressed her cheeks often. Once, Kira told Odo she had the sweetest smile, which was obviously untrue. Kira’s smiles brightened her entire face in a way Odo’s never could. No matter how hard Odo argued, Kira refused to be swayed.
But, for all that, the two of them had never kissed on the lips. Odo was convinced if they ever did, she’d embarrass herself. What if she got flustered and her face got all sticky, or her tongue turned into goo inside Kira’s mouth? Better not to risk it.
And yet, Odo couldn’t help but want to. She and Kira shared something beautiful, but neither of them had put a name on it. Maybe if they kissed properly, everything would feel a little more grounded. More real. Sometimes, when Kira was stroking her face and smiling at her with utter adoration, Odo could almost convince herself it might turn out all right. Then she’d go back to her quarters alone to regenerate, and she’d run a finger over her lipless mouth and sigh.
One day, Kira took Odo’s hand and said, “You should request time off next week.”
“Time off?” Odo repeated, indignant. She was above such humanoid needs. Besides, the chief of security’s work was never done. Odo was integral to maintaining order on the station—she couldn’t just take off on a whim. “What for?”
“Because I have a day off next week, and I plan to spend it on Bajor.” Kira stroked Odo’s hand and smiled up at her. “I thought you might like to come with me.”
“Oh,” said Odo, unable to keep herself from smiling back. “Yes. I’ll do that.”
The station could survive without her for a day. Probably.
A week later, early in the morning, Odo was waiting outside Kira’s quarters for her.
“Ready to go?” Odo asked the moment the door opened.
Kira was rubbing her eyes. “Ready as I can be, at this hour. Can you believe that damn replicator broke again?”
“The shuttle won’t depart for half an hour—we can stop by the promenade to pick something up first.”
“Mm.” Kira got a good look at Odo for the first time. She smiled and set her hands on Odo’s bare shoulders. “You should go sleeveless more often.”
Odo cleared her throat. “I thought, since we’re going to Bajor, I should wear something Bajoran.” Kira wanted to show Odo the woods near the monastery—the most peaceful place she knew. Because they’d spend most of the day walking through the forest, Odo kept her outfit practical. She left her uniform pants and boots alone but added a sleeveless white top with a cutout panel in the front, just like the one Kira wore occasionally. “This seemed easier than something with too many layers.”
Kira laughed. She was wearing at least two shirts and a knitted vest over both. “For your information, this is a perfectly reasonable amount of layers for a Bajoran spring. Some of us get cold, you know.” She reached up to touch the narrow braid that started just above Odo’s ear and circled the back of her head. “I’ve never seen your hair like this,” she said in a softer tone. “It’s really pretty.”
“Just something I learned from Jadzia,” said Odo, not wanting to let on how pleased she was. She had thought about using Jadzia’s blue clasp, too, but decided against it, not wanting to risk losing it in the woods. It was too precious a gift.
A few hours later, they reached Bajor. Kira led the way through the woods. The underbrush was thick, studded with stones and roots, but it was early enough in the season that leaves were just starting to unfurl overhead, letting sunlight flow freely. Odo trailed Kira, wishing she could adopt a form that didn’t constantly have to contort to avoid tree branches. Birds flitted overhead, and Odo scowled at them, jealous. She was so busy glowering at the treetops that she tripped over a root and went sprawling.
Kira heard her fall and turned around. “Odo, are you all right?”
Odo huffed. “I’m fine, no thanks to this humanoid form.”
She pushed herself into a sitting position, and Kira extended a hand to help her the rest of the way up. Odo took it, irritation fading at her touch. Even after she was standing, she didn’t want to let go of Kira’s hand. Kira didn’t seem inclined to drop Odo’s, either. They ended up walking side by side, silently at first. Then Kira nestled closer.
“The path gets narrower up ahead,” she explained to Odo.
“You mean to tell me we’ve been on a path this whole time?”
Of course, Odo reflected, Kira’s time in the Resistance had probably given her a skewed perspective on traversable terrain.
Eventually, they reached a small, sunny clearing. “Why don’t we stop here for a while?” Kira suggested. “We’ve been walking for a couple hours—as long as we don’t spend more than two here, we should be able to get back to the shuttle before sunset.” She continued to calculate. Then it’s three hours to get back to the station…that’ll put our trip at twelve hours total.”
Odo’s one condition for this trip was that they return to the station before it was time for her to regenerate. “That works for me.” Odo shrugged off Kira’s pack, which she had insisted on carrying for her. “Are you going to want your rations now, or are you eating later?”
“The rations are there just in case,” said Kira, scanning the clearing. “I want to see if I can forage something.” She knelt, observing a cluster of low-growing yellow flowers surrounded by wide, curling leaves. “The leaves of these are edible, and those have edible roots—” she sighed. “It’s too bad the spiders aren’t usually active this time of day. They’re not bad if you roast them long enough.”
For some reason, Odo vividly recalled Jadzia telling her that Kira “wasn’t really the makeover type.”
Kira continued foraging. She seemed to know the name and properties of every plant in the clearing. Her store of knowledge was impressive, and Odo told her so.
“Not really.” Kira shrugged. “Everyone learns stuff like this.” Her face darkened. “We had to.” Odo reached out to comfort her, but Kira turned away, her attention caught by a sound from the edge of the treeline. “Probably just a snake,” she decided. “Not worth the trouble.”
“The trouble of what?” Odo asked, brow furrowing. “Is it venomous?” She lowered her voice. Do you want me to take care of it?”
Kira looked back at Odo, fondness in her eyes. “You’re so cute when you get like this.”
Odo hmphed. Not for the first time, she was relieved she didn’t have blood, otherwise she might have blushed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You know, when you get all protective,” said Kira, moving closer. She put the bundle of plants she had gathered on top of their pack, then took Odo’s hands. “You want to keep me safe.”
“Of course I do.”
“And you’re very good at it.” Kira wrapped her arms around Odo and tucked her head under her chin. “I always feel safe with you,” she breathed. Odo felt warm tears seep through her shirt. She looked down at Kira in dismay, and Kira lifted her head, smiling through the tears. “I didn’t think it was possible. I never expected anyone to make me feel like this, but you do.”
Odo tentatively put her arms around Kira. What she really wanted was to hold her as tightly as possible, melt into her skin—but Odo kept herself in check. She settled for pressing her forehead lightly against Kira’s and telling her, in a choked whisper, “I feel the same.”
Kira stroked Odo’s face. Then she stood on tiptoe, leaning in for a kiss. For once, Odo didn’t pull back.
Kira’s lips were gentle and undemanding. Odo opened her mouth slightly, and the kiss deepened. Kira kept one hand on Odo’s cheek and draped the other around the back of her neck—a claiming gesture—and Odo felt warm all over, her edges softening. She focused on her mouth, on the places it met Kira’s, willing those shapes to hold firm…
Kira pulled back ever so slightly. “You don’t have to stay like this if you don’t want to.”
Odo trembled, not trusting herself to speak.
“I love this body you’ve given yourself, and I love how happy it makes you, but I know there’s more to you.” Kira patted Odo’s gooey cheek, only smiling fondly when her fingers got stuck. “You don’t have to hold back, not with me.”
So Odo flowed around Kira, enfolding her. Everything felt so much purer without those bothersome humanoid senses in the way. Odo could simply exist, and Kira existed within her. Odo could have stayed that way forever, but little by little, she made her retreat, forming a body, then arms, then a face. She saved the mouth for last. Finally, she broke the kiss.
When the rush of ecstasy faded, Odo couldn’t believe what she had done. She touched her face, then ripped her hand away before her fingers could start melting into her cheek. She began to apologize, avoiding Kira’s gaze. “Kira, I—”
She took Odo’s hand. “Nerys,” she said.
“Nerys,” Odo echoed, meeting her eyes. She smiled. Odo smiled back, and Nerys kissed her. Then she laughed.
“Now I’m the one getting you all sticky. There’s lipstick on your mouth.”
“There is?” Odo asked before she could catch herself and reign in the excitement in her voice.
“Just a little. It’s adorable,” said Nerys, eyes crinkling. “If you ever want to try it for yourself, I can lend you some.”
“No,” said Odo. “I think I like this more.”