"For a long time, I searched for home. There were times where I thought I felt it. A brief glimpse here or a moment of peace there. When I traveled to the Gamma Quadrant for the first time and experienced the Great Link, I thought I had found it at last. Nothing could feel as welcoming and loving as in that space. Then I experienced—"
"Odo? We're here."
"End recording," Odo stated, shutting off the recording device and standing. He smoothed the grey sweater down his body, though he had no need to. Wrinkles and creases made his clothes look real. He'd learned in the past two hundred years that it was the imperfections that made something authentic. It was why he had been able to replace the perfectly smooth surface of his face with marred wrinkles and lines. Not enough to give away the truth of his age, but a hint of the wisdom that rested within him that only living as long as he had could provide.
The door to his room opened, and he nodded to one of the transport's officers. Making his way to the observatory, he climbed the stairs. It was a small transport. One he had managed to squeeze himself a ticket on through calling in an old favor. While there was always travel going back and forth from Deep Space Nine to Bajor, he wanted to remain anonymous. Easy for a changeling. Not easy for him, since everyone knew who he was in the entire blasted sector. Odo, renown Security Chief of Deep Space Nine who had fought alongside the Emissary and Kira Nerys herself to end the threat of the Dominion. His open participation in the fight against his people had proven to be enough to welcome him on Bajor.
As had his romantic affiliation with the space station's First Officer. Nerys had become a hero to her people. Nearly as revered as the Emissary, himself. She had been uncomfortable with all of the attention, of course. Her humility had always been astounding. But when the torches came for him, the inevitable witch hunt against all things Dominion-related, she had been the first to defend him and showed him that he was as much of Bajor as they were. To seal that matter, she had married him. Or, perhaps, he had married her, was the correct way to put it. Technically, he wasn't just Odo anymore. He was Kira Odo. A tad different from normal Bajor tradition, to be sure, but he had no last name, and he didn't particularly enjoy Nerys having to take his only name as it was. So, he'd taken hers. It only made sense.
Kira Odo had been welcome to Bajor after the Dominion had been demolished and prosperity seemed quick to follow. There were more skirmishes with threats that plagued Bajor or the wormhole or Deep Space Nine—there were always more threats—but the motley crew of the space station always seemed to come out on top.
Once he reached the observatory, Odo rested his hands against the railing, looking out through the large window as Deep Space Nine came into view. He hadn't been to station in nearly fifty years. Its familiar arches and blinking lights caused him a deeper pain than he thought he'd feel. "Continue recording," he said, tapping the device once more. "The need to return to the Great Link was strong. Especially in the Gamma Quadrant. When I returned here though . . . to Bajor . . . to Deep Space Nine, the ache lessened. The familiarity of my office, of my quarters, of even Quark's bar provided me some form of comfort. But it was only when I was able to hold her in my arms that I understood exactly what home was supposed to feel like."
Blue eyes scanned over the surface of the station, of the traffic to and from. "The joy and security I shared with her was even more potent than the peace ad welcome I experienced in the Great Link. I was tempted, of course, to return. But all she had to do was smile at me, and I remembered exactly where I belonged."
The ship docked at the station, and Odo hesitantly made his way on board. It seemed his wishes to remain anonymous had fallen on deaf ears, for as soon as he made his appearance on the Promenade, almost-familiar faces crowded in on him. "Constable!" "Odo!" "How wonderful to see you!" plagued him as he shook hands and forced a smile on his lips. Descendants. This one had the O'Brien curls. That one had Sisko's smile. The Bashirs never quite knew when to keep quiet. Not everyone was here. Many of them left the station to pursue other dreams. Yet, some remained. He was a link to their past—to their parents or grandparents. When Nerys had been alive, they'd visit the station to recount old stories to them. They'd been just children then. Now, he saw adults—some even with children of their own.
It was when he had broken free and stood in front of his old security office that he resumed his recording. "We tried to have children. Dr. Bashir was patient with us. Devoted. I knew how badly Nerys wanted to have them. I could give her anything in the world if I tried hard enough, be anything she wanted me to be, but I couldn't give her the one thing she wanted most. Eventually, we stopped the trials. The disappointment nearly ruined us. In time, she found an outlet for her needs, helping the orphans of Bajor who had lost their parents both during the Occupation and during the war with the Dominion. Once we retired from our work on Deep Space Nine, she was able to pursue this passion more readily on Bajor. It was a good life despite the shadow that hung over us."
A hand pressed along the door. Within, he could see that someone had endeavored to personalize the office. Photos and trophies hung on the wall. A flag of Bajor and the Federation were proudly displayed. A stark contrast to his Spartan office. "This was home, too," he continued. "This small space. It was colder. Less comfortable. But it reminded me of who I was and who I wanted to keep being. Perhaps home is too strong of a word. Hotel, maybe. Hmm." Odo mewled it over. "Even standing in front of it now after all this time . . . I feel a longing, but it's not for the space itself, nor what I felt as security officer. I'm still lost."
His steps took him to Quark's bar next, but he didn't bother going in. It wasn't same either. Quark had died, too. With a respectable fortune, too. No doubt he'd managed to cash in once he had retired from his position. "Deep Space Nine holds some of my happiest memories," he recorded as he took the turbolift to the upper portion of the promenade. "But all I see here now are ghosts." Odo paused, the words painful still to say even after all of this time. "She died fifty years ago. We had almost a hundred years together. What are you supposed to do after that?" he asked, gaze turning to the large porthole that displayed the glimmering wormhole.
"How are you supposed to continue when the foundation of your life is ripped away?" In truth, she had died peacefully. Asleep. Warm. His arms around her. There had been no violent action that had taken her from him, but the separation was no less agonizing than if she had been sliced in half by a Klingon. "I've been homeless for fifty years," he said, his voice trembling as he stared yearningly at the wormhole. He'd had their house, yes. Their farm. But that was a shell. There wasn't any life there anymore.
"Today . . . if I'm lucky . . . if I can make them understand . . . I won't be anymore."
It wasn't easy convincing the current station commander to allow him to borrow a shuttlecraft. Even more so when he refused to answer why he needed one. It essentially took calling in his last favor, but he was on his way towards the glimmering light of the wormhole at long last. "She told me I could live on without her. Find new love. Experience further joys and adventures. She never could understand that the first time she smiled at me, she created a refuge. I was no longer a wandering mass of goo with little direction or purpose. I was found. I knew who I was. Where I was meant to be."
The light from the wormhole cut through the windows, making him wince momentarily. "This is Kira Odo, former Security Officer of Deep Space Nine. Husband to Kira Nerys and one of the last changelings left in this universe. To those who cared about me and are no longer a part of this world . . . it's okay. I finally found home. Odo out." The recording ended, and he uploaded it to the shuttle's audio file. Then, he resumed travel into the wormhole.
Contacting them was something he was never particularly confident in his ability to do. After all, Nerys had been the faithful one. He was a mere observer. For the first time, he closed his eyes and tried to connect . . . through prayer. He rambled something in Bajoran that he had often heard Nerys murmur during her prayers. What it exactly was, he was as of yet unsure, but it was all he had. "Please," he thought, "please, I need to speak with you."
The lightness dimmed, and for a moment, he believed he had simply passed through the wormhole without achieving his goal. When he opened his eyes, however, there she stood. "Nerys," he breathed, rising from his chair. He was no longer in a shuttle. He was on Bajor in their farm home. But this was not Nerys. Her eyes were distant, possessing nothing of the twinkling gleam that he adored. But if it was not her, then . . . "Am I speaking to the Prophets?" he inquired.
"The Shifter wishes to speak to us. It is not a request often heard from the old beings," the Prophet replied to him through her voice. "He is of his kind but not. Does the Shifter love Bajor?"
"No," and this was a new voice, behind him. Odo turned to see Sisko as he remembered him best—strong, healthy, with that ridiculous goatee. "He loved a Bajoran, not Bajor. So, a Shifter, indeed. They who love themselves best."
Odo clenched his jaw for a moment, then turned his attention to the Prophet who had Kira's shape. "Listen, I don't care what I am or what I am not. I've just come here to ask you of something."
Sisko moved over to Nerys, and the two looked at Odo in a way that almost felt violating it was so deep. "Speak," Kira finally said.
"I want to go to where Nerys is," he stated. "Wherever Bajorans go after they've died, take me there. Please."
"It is a place where Bajorans go," Sisko said, re-stating his words. "The Shifter is not of Bajor."
Odo shook his head, "no, I'm not, but I am of Kira. Please, I was meant to be with her."
The two looked at one another. Then a third figure appeared. It took the form of the Female Changeling. Odo took a step back when he saw her. It had been even longer since last he had seen her face. "The Shifter is endless," she spoke in her familiar cadence. "Why would the Shifter refuse immortality? There are many who would desire nothing less."
"Because I don't want it," Odo said irritably, uncomfortable with interacting with this face regardless of who was wearing the mask. "It doesn't mean anything."
The Female Changeling looked to the other two. "We cannot force the Shifter's presence where it is not wanted. Ask." Odo wasn't sure what was transpiring, but the one using Nerys' face grew still, her eyes became even more distant, and then she spoke.
"The Shifter is sure?"
"Yes!" Odo exclaimed, taking a step towards her. "Whatever I have to do. Tell her I'll do it. Anything."
Her eyes became distant again. The others were still as well, obviously watching this interaction between the Prophet and Nerys. "A request has been made," the Prophet said, and the other two vanished. The distance in her eyes disappeared, and there was the tell-tale glimmer I knew.
"Odo?" Nerys inquired. "Is it true? You're trying to kill yourself?"
Quickly, he shook his head, moving forward until his hands were in hers. He collapsed to his knees, bringing her hands to his lips where he pressed gentle, adoring kisses. "I already died, Nerys," he rasped to her. "The day you left me."
"Odo, that isn't true," she hushed him, kneeling with him. "You have so much to do still. You can change so much. Protect so much."
The sound that came from his lips was nothing short of miserable. "You never did understand," he said quietly, smiling despite the agony. "Kira Nerys. You're my soul." That brought a tear to her eye, and he was quick to lean forward and take her into his arms. The familiar weight of her against his chest and shoulder made his agony recede even if for a moment. Here was joy. Here was calm. Here was peace.
"You know I can't ask this of you," she whispered into his shoulder. "You'll be throwing away hundreds, if not thousands, of years away."
"And every single one of them lost and miserable," Odo replied. "I never wanted to feel lost again, Nerys. I'm here. Please," he drew back, his hands cupping her face, "let me come home." Her hands lightly covered his own, staring into his eyes. Slowly, she leaned up and pressed the softest of kisses to his lips, a rapture such as he had never felt consuming him alive the second they touched. It blinded everything else out until there was only the sweet, agonizing, burn and those glimmering eyes.
"Tell the Commander, we've found it," the ensign said, placing a tractor beam on the shuttle.
"Any life signs?" her co-pilot asked as he made the report.
"No, none. No residue, no trace evidence, nothing." she replied, confusion in her tone. "Wherever the Constable went . . . let's hope he found what he was looking for."