Finite
adjective
1. having bounds or limits; not infinite; measurable.
2. Mathematics.
(of a set of elements) capable of being completely counted.
not infinite or infinitesimal.
not zero.
3. subject to limitations or conditions, as of space, time, circumstances, or the laws of nature:
man's finite existence.
Odo would find it naive after the fact (perhaps almost hilariously so if it were anything else) but the truth of the matter was that he simply didn't think about it. It didn't cross his mind, not even once, despite everything he knew about solids after living among them for years, in spite of being a solid for a time himself, regardless of having acquaintances of his own all come to the same end (Vedek Bareil. Ziyal. Jadzia Dax. Weyoun Six. Dr. Mora. And so on). He attended funerals. He had been in battle. He killed before, even.
It was an inevitable conclusion for all solids, natural or otherwise. It was the way of things as it had always been and always would be. Everything ends. Whole galaxies collapse. Stars fade out. Entire ecosystems fail, planets are obliterated in the wake of their burning suns, the universe as he knew it would someday cease to exist.
Everybody dies.
But it did not occur to Odo for many, many years that Quark would die someday.
His people would have likely told him that it was one of his (many) faults - not conveniently forgetting that Quark would die, necessarily, (although it was probably more the case that Odo was pretending Quark simply couldn't) but becoming so attached to a solid in the first place that it didn't so much as enter his mind as a possibility. It was foolishness. It was voluntary blindness. It was weakness and failure.
It was the truth.
The first time it happens upon Odo that Quark is going to die is not the day of Dr. Mora's death or even at his memorial ceremony - it is on Dr. Mora's birthday, several months after he passed. Odo is standing at the foot of the doctor's grave, alone, and he's wondering if he should have brought something with him, flowers or a candle, and he's trying to remember what Bajoran traditions are when it comes to death and mourning. Do they even bring flowers? Do they pray? Should he pray, as a nonbeliever? Was that disrespectful?
It wasn't in his plans to come here, anyway, and he feels even worse about that. The trip to Bajor had nothing to do with visiting Dr. Mora's grave; it was strictly a business visit. If he was being perfectly honest with himself, he hadn't realized that Dr. Mora's birthday was upon him until they arrived on the planet, and even then it hadn't been his idea to see the gravesite. It was Kira's.
"He'd want to see you today," she told Odo, as if she had any idea what Dr. Mora was like. Odo was just a little miffed that she was absolutely right.
So Odo does what she says because he knows he'll just feel guilty if he doesn't, and he stands there, holding his arms awkwardly over his chest and staring down at the soil. Several feet beneath him is Dr. Mora's decomposing body. Odo frowns and waits to feel something, the things solids always talk about when they speak of the dead - the man's spirit, energy, a sign. Odo even closes his eyes, wills it, a whisper in the wind, an unexplained sense of calm. Anything.
There's nothing. There's just dirt and birds fighting in the tree behind him and all he's managed to accomplish is waste an hour and a half walking all the way up here.
"This is pointless," Odo says to no one, to Dr. Mora's grave. He shakes his head. "I'm sorry, but this makes no sense. You're not here."
Now he's talking out loud like Dr. Mora can hear him. Great. Maybe he's officially gone mad. This doesn't feel therapeutic, he thinks, chuckling and turning his head up to the sky. It feels foolish.
There are a lot of things that Odo still doesn't understand about solid traditions but especially when it comes to this. He remembers how Kira burned a candle for the Vedek months after he died and while he knew she was in pain, he could not quite see how it was helping her, how she couldn't accept that Bareil simply wasn't there anymore, and that holding onto a ghost was doing nothing for no one. Moving on was the only thing she could do and certainly the best thing to do so why do solids insist on grieving? On refusing to let go? He cared for everyone he had lost (Jadzia. Ziyal. Bareil. Weyoun Six. Dr. Mora.) and his going forward with his life was not reflective of how little he did, but instead how much he valued logic and sense. They're gone and there's nothing to be done about it but keep going.
Sure, he misses them. All of them, in their own ways. But wasn't it a disservice to their memory to allow himself to be paralyzed by grief?
He nods to himself and to Dr. Mora's grave. Of course he's right. He bows to the doctor's stone (because it might be silly but the least he could do is show the man the respect he deserved) and then walks back to his rendezvous point with the Major, where they board a shuttle and head back to Deep Space Nine.
And he still doesn't think about it, not for hours, well off of Bajor, the whole dreary business nearly forgotten as he steps out of the shuttle and onto the brightly lit station. He says his goodbyes with Kira at the airlock and starts a path for the security office with every intention of relieving his stand-in of duty and taking over exactly where he left off, efficient as always, but he doesn't make it there because Quark appears in the entrance of his bar, grinning with every single one of his sharp little teeth like Odo had raised the sun with his arrival.
Odo stops, smiles back at Quark, and adjusts his path to approach the Ferengi instead (and wasn't that an allegory for his entire life: him trying to be productive and do his job and constantly adjusting for Quark's presence, begrudgingly at first and later because of course he would) and it is halfway across the Promenade when it hits Odo like a phaser to the chest, where his once solid heart was, where it would have surely stopped if it was still there.
It is right then that Odo sees all of them (Jadzia. Ziyal. Bareil. Weyoun Six. Dr. Mora.) staring back at him through Quark's eyes and Odo realizes that someday, one day, Quark will be among them.
It is not a matter of how or why but only of when Quark is going to die. Time is the only thing between them and it is not something Odo can ever protect him from.
Odo has no lungs so his breath cannot actually be knocked out of him but it's the only way he knows how to describe what it feels like when he nearly falls to the Promenade floor. His descent is only interrupted by Quark hurrying to his side and taking him by the arm, a hundred questions already firing out of his mouth, and Odo can't even look at him. Surely the station was just struck by something huge and sent it spiraling into Bajor's orbit because how else could the sudden spinning be explained? Where else could the overwhelming sense of dread forming in his insides have come from? He searches for the nearest window on the upper deck to make sure the stars are still where they should to be.
"Odo." Quark's voice is strained in a way that makes Odo hurt. "You're scaring me."
Odo finds the stars and the world rights itself again. He turns back to Quark who is watching him like he's going to shatter where he stands, holding him as gently as if he were made of glass.
"I'm sorry." Odo closes his hand over Quark's and straightens with his help. People are staring and Odo ducks his head as a reflex. Quark doesn't need to be told what to do; he guides Odo quickly and wordlessly across the Promenade to the bar. "I think I'm just space sick."
Quark plants Odo in a chair and hovers there for a moment like he's worried he'll fall right out of it. "You don't get space sick. Solids get space sick." Quark searches Odo's eyes so closely that Odo looks away. "Should I get Dr. Bashir?"
"No," Odo barks, louder than he meant to, and his winces when he sees Quark leaning away from him. "I'm sorry," Odo says for the second time, reaching out to hold Quark still, to keep him close. He cradles Quark's cheek in his hand. "Really, I'm fine. I'm just tired."
Quark frowns but he leans into Odo's touch. "You're not due to rejuvenate for another four hours."
Odo makes a face. "It is very disturbing to me that you have my cycle memorized."
"Comes with the territory of dating a Changeling." Quark grins and bends his knees so they're at eye level. He places a hand over Odo's at his cheek and draws it away just so he can give it a firm, reassuring squeeze. "Are you sure you're alright?"
Odo doesn't need air but he holds his breath anyway. He wants to remember everything about this moment and every moment after. He smiles at Quark, slow and easy, because it always makes Quark's lobes blush, and if Odo had to pick a favorite expression of Quark's, that would be it.
"Be careful, Quark," Odo says, leaning closer. "People might start thinking you like me if you fawn all over me like this."
And just like that, the worry is shed from Quark's face with a grin that nearly cracks it in half. "That's a bet they'd win," he says, and kisses Odo on the mouth, and Odo kisses him right back, perhaps a little more eagerly than usual (a little more desperately) but Quark doesn't notice, doesn't know.
Neither of them care that people are staring now.
It never leaves his mind after that. He thinks about it every waking moment, even when he's regenerating - constantly, obsessively fixated on the fact that Quark is going to die eventually. Quark isn't so dense that he doesn't realize something is bothering him but knows the Changeling well enough to understand that if Odo wanted to talk about it he would and the last person Odo wants to talk about this with is Quark. In fact, he doesn't want to talk about it at all, thank you very much. He'd much rather allow it to ferment inside of him until he rots from the inside out. So what if it becomes detrimental to his mental health? So what if he is on the very edge of panic all day every day researching Ferengi illnesses in his spare time or meticulously combing through Quark's family medical history or imagining the thousands of different things that could kill him on Deep Space Nine or heaven forbid the amount of people who could (and would given Quark's long list of less than admirable service with less than admirable people) and so what if Odo is actually losing his mind?
On the one hand, Odo understands how illogical he's being and just how much he's overreacting. On the other, Quark is going to die. Circumstances being what they are, Odo believes he's being quite reasonable, and to be honest he's not sure how everyone else isn't having perpetual fits about the mortality of their loved ones.
No wonder there are entire species who abandon emotions altogether, Odo thinks. He's exhausted.
"You look exhausted."
Odo jumps so violently that he launches the PADD he was studying (read: mindlessly staring at for about an hour) into the air. It smacks face down on the desk and he covers it with his hand like it could spring back to life at any moment.
Kira, standing innocently in the open doorway, laughs. She steps into the security office with a cup clasped between her hands and sits across from him with a smile. "Morning," she says, hiding her grin behind the lip of her mug.
Odo grumbles some sort of greeting and pulls the PADD back into his lap. He resumes his earlier position, leg over knee, and furrows his brow at the screen.
Cocking her head at him, Kira openly and pointedly stares, and Odo is getting the impression that she's expecting him to say something, to explain his behavior, and Odo won't give her the satisfaction of admitting there is anything wrong - because there isn't anything wrong. Everything is fine. Everybody dies and life is meaningless, but it's fine.
"Odo." Kira chirps, and his replying glare only turns up the wattage on her smile.
"What."
Using her mug, she motions toward the PADD in his hands. "Are you teaching yourself a new way to read?"
Odo's face pinches. "What are you talking about?"
Kira twists her head the other way, as pleased as he's ever seen her. "Well," she says thoughtfully, leaning back in her chair and glancing to his PADD. "It's upside down."
His eyes narrow into slits. Without looking at the PADD he sends it spinning back to the desktop and sighs so heavily that he might just let himself melt into the chair. Maybe it would be disturbing enough that Kira would leave. Not because he doesn't enjoy her company but exactly for that reason - he trusts her and she has a way of getting him to talk about things he doesn't want to (but needs to) and the worst part is that she's all too aware of this.
"Is something going on?" Kira's teasing is replaced with concern. She looks so sweet and open and trustworthy that it makes Odo want to spill every secret he's ever had right then and there.
It should be illegal to be this inviting, he thinks, shaking his head at her. "Nothing serious." He can't stop thinking about the horrible inevitability of death. No need to be worried at all.
"Odo. Do you think I'm stupid?"
Odo reels like he's been struck by a shuttle. "No-?"
"Then don't lie to me." Kira's words are sharp but somehow still kind and he doesn't know how she manages that but she does, flawlessly. "We have had this conversation a hundred times. I'm your friend and I want to help you when you need it. You just have to let me."
"Major." Odo picks at flint on his pant leg, something he's seen Quark do when he wants to avoid talking, except Quark looks a lot more convincing when he's doing it because Odo's clothes are just an extension of his Changeling body and they don't actually produce any lint. "It's a very unpleasant subject."
"Ah." Kira nods solemnly and leans back in her chair. "That's exactly why you should talk to me. Unpleasant subjects and I have been good friends my entire life."
Odo eyes the door behind her and wonders how petty it would be to transform into a bird and literally fly away from his problems. He has a feeling that the Major isn't going to be deterred from helping him whether he likes it or not, and besides, it's not like he can feel any worse, right?
"Quark is going to die."
It's the first time he's said it out loud and he was wrong - he can feel worse.
Kira's smile has finally vanished from her face. "I don't - what?"
"No - that isn't, I don't mean he's actively dying. I checked his latest physical. He's in decent shape for a Ferengi his age. Could be better, in my opinion, if he would lay off the tube grubs and use one of his exercise holosuite programs every once in awhile -"
"Odo." Kira comes to the edge of her chair and sets her mug on the desk. "Where is this coming from?"
Odo shrugs. The Promenade is starting to fill with people now and he watches them walk by the security window for a minute in silence. "I never thought about it before and now I can't think about anything else."
Kira's mouth opens but nothing comes out. She closes it again and sits back with her hands held together in her lap. She studies the floor and chooses her words very carefully. "Everyone dies, Odo, in their own time. I'll die someday, too, when the Prophets call me."
"I don't like thinking about that very much, either."
"A compliment from the good Constable. I'll be sure to remember it." She flashes a weak smile at him but it dies as soon as he catches it. "It's not healthy to obsess over this. You can die, too. What if this was all Quark was thinking about?"
"I can be killed," Odo corrected. "But with the Great Link, I can live indefinitely. My death is a possibility, not an inevitability, like that of a solid. Like you. Like Quark." He shifts uncomfortably in his chair. "In all probability, I will outlive all of you."
"If all anyone did was think about how everything ends then no one would be happy, Odo. And you're finally happy." Kira reaches across the desk for his hand but he pulls it away. She only looks hurt for a second. "You're finally happy with Quark, so just enjoy it."
"That's just it." Odo abruptly stands, hooks his hands behind his back and starts to pace. "I waited my whole life to find him and then wasted years - years, Major, just bickering with him. Taunting him. Fighting with him. Determined to make both of us as miserable as possible. And now that it's finally been resolved I realize that one day he's going to slip out of my hands and I won't be able to do anything about it." He spins on his heel to face her and she's looking at him like she's never seen him before (and she hasn't, not like this). "The Founders were right about one thing," he mumbles, folding his arms. "I am a fool. Solids are fragile - I remember - and their lives are short and I don't know how I'm going to survive when you're all gone." He tightens his arms around himself. "When Quark's gone."
Kira's lips thin and she looks away. He's angered her and he doesn't know why, regrets saying a word, wishes he could turn back the clock and actually turn into a bird and fly away from this conversation. Whatever he's feeling he's sure is similar to the solid phenomenon of indigestion and he doesn't like it one bit.
"Constable Odo." Somehow, Kira makes that sound like his full name, and she wields it like a mother does when she's upset with her child. "If you think you won't survive Quark's death - whenever that is - then you need to take a look at the fragile solids around you who have lost their … Quarks." She snatches up her mug and looks him in the eye. "Captain Sisko, Worf, me - we've lost people. Some of us have lost all of our people. And if we can survive it, so will you. Pull yourself together."
Kira stares at him for a long time. Odo can't think of anything to say so he just nods and when she leaves he sits down again and it isn't until several minutes later that he comes up with something, and isn't that how it always goes.
"I didn't think I'd ever have anyone to lose," he says to the empty room, wondering what Kira's face would have looked like if she had heard him.
"What are you wearing?"
Odo looks up from his book. It's an actual paperback with pages made from trees (an Earth relic for all intents and purposes) that Captain Sisko let him borrow only because he knew Odo wouldn't let it get damaged in any way. He doesn't care much for the story itself (he doesn't quite understand ancient humans' obsession with magic and wizards and the like) but the experience of reading this way is interesting, at least.
Quark is staring at him like he's just sprouted a second head. Granted, he has done this before, but he isn't currently, so Odo isn't sure what the big eyes and raised ears are for.
"I thought you were familiar with pajamas. You wear them."
"Yeah, I wear them, but you don't." Quark keeps his eyes on Odo lounging on the bed as he moves to the vanity and sits, plucking out an offensively large q-tip from the drawer without needing to look. "You never have before, any way."
Odo's eyes move back to the book - he hates watching Quark clean his ears but understands that if Quark didn't do it it'd be even more disgusting. The lesser of two evils.
"Why is it that everytime I do something out of the ordinary you have to make such a big deal out of it?"
"Because you're a man of habit, Odo. You do everything the same. Did you know you take exactly twelve steps when you cross the Promenade to my bar from your office? Every time? In the exact same way?"
"Are you saying I'm predictable?"
"If the shoe fits."
Odo grunts and closes the book, setting it delicately on the bedside table. "Ending up with you sure wasn't something I predicted."
"And look at you now." Quark gestures widely. "Dating a Ferengi and wearing pajamas. How the mighty have fallen." He moves from the vanity to the bed and runs a finger along the striped pattern of Odo's shin. "They're real," Quark says.
"Garak helped me pick them out." Odo tilts his head. "Do you like them?"
Quark laughs. "Sure. I just don't understand what you got them for."
"To sleep in, obviously." Odo crosses his arms. "What else?"
Quark pulls his hand back and looks at Odo warily like he's searching for some secret written on his face.
"What?"
"You're acting weird. You've been acting weird since you got back from Bajor." Quark is frowning, multiplying the wrinkles in his face by about a hundred. "If you've forgotten, let me remind you: you don't sleep."
"I've never tried it." Odo shrugs, swings his legs off the bed and starts to stand. "But if you don't want me to sleep with you I'll just shapeshift into a lonely chair draped in these very nice pajamas-"
"Gah, you can be such a baby." Quark wrestles Odo back onto the bed and Odo makes a show of looking offended throughout the process but he is the one who pulls Quark's body to him under the blankets, the one who sighs happily into his neck once they've settled. "Lights," Quark says, and darkness comes.
For a long time they just lie there in silence. Odo listens to Quark's breathing, feels his ribs expanding and deflating against his chest. Just when Odo thinks Quark has fallen asleep, the Ferengi abruptly twists in his arms so that they're face-to-face, so close that Odo can count the ridges on his nose.
"So?" Quark raises his brows.
Odo hums. "We've had this conversation. Changelings can't read minds, remember?"
"Stop playing dumb. Why are you doing this? Sleeping with me? Why are you having lunch with me every day even though you don't eat, and then just spend the whole time staring at me? Everytime I look up you're watching me from your office. I swear, it's like you think I'm doing something illegal."
"You probably are."
"Don't change the subject."
Odo sighs. "Is it that hard to believe that I just … want to spend time with you?"
Quark scoffs. "Doing boring stuff? Like eating and sleeping?"
"Boring would never be a word I'd use to describe you. Irritating, on the other hand -"
"Odo. Seriously." Quark tries to maintain his serious look while stifling a yawn. "If there's something going on then just tell me."
"There's nothing going on." Odo answers just a little too quickly. "Go to sleep, Quark. You can keep arguing with me in the morning if you want to."
Mumbling under his breath, Quark gives Odo a quick and disgruntled kiss.
"What was that?" Odo says into his ear when Quark rolls over again.
"I said," Quark repeats, and Odo doesn't see his grin but feels it, somehow, "that I have the rest of my life to argue with you."
Odo doesn't say anything back. He rests his cheek on the back of Quark's head and closes his eyes.
He doesn't sleep but he feels like he's having a nightmare anyway because he can't stop thinking about what this room will feel like when Quark's not in it anymore.
"Come in, Constable."
Odo does, but he hovers near the door like he doesn't belong there, like he hasn't been in Captain Sisko's office a hundred times. He's had his hands locked behind his back for so long that they've started to morph together, forming one long, seamless, oddly placed and curved arm, so he pries them apart with a little too much effort and readjusts his shirt - which is actually his skin and it doesn't really need adjusting, he just doesn't want to walk any farther into the room and doesn't want to look Sisko in the eye and really, really doesn't want to talk about this anymore-
"Odo?"
Sisko is staring at him from the other side of the desk, the muscle where an eyebrow should be perked upward, expectant.
"I'm sorry, sir." Stiffly, Odo crosses the room, hesitates near the chair opposite Sisko, and then sits, back pin straight, hands grasping his knees.
"Is everything alright?" Sisko's attention has entirely left the PADD he'd been holding when Odo requested entrance, setting it off to the side.
"Yes, everything is fine." Odo is sure his throat would be dry if such a thing was possible for him. "Just … just fine."
Sisko doesn't look convinced. In fact, his face is only growing more cloudy with worry. He leans his elbows on the desk and sits straighter, holding Odo's eyes, and Sisko has a way of trapping you in his own, and it's really quite distressing, and Odo is regretting coming here for the seventh time since he walked into the room.
"If everything is fine then … why do you look like you're about to turn into a stallion and run as far away from me as you can get?" Sisko falters. "Are you resigning?"
"What? No," Odo scoffs. "No, sir, I'm quite happy with my job."
"Good." Sisko relaxes only slightly. "I'd noticed you seemed … distracted on the job, and I was worried. But if that isn't the case, then why the impromptu visit?"
"I." Odo's lipless mouth twitches. "I. I wanted to speak to you about … death."
Sisko blinks once, twice, then cocks his head. "Death," he repeats, as if making sure the universal translator hadn't just glitched.
Odo sighs, looking away, his fingers creating a terrible tempo against the arm of the chair until he squeezes them into a fist, and then shifts them into a shapeless blob, just to be safe.
"Sir, I'm, it's … it's recently come to my attention that … well, I don't mean that I didn't always know, I always knew that solids, well, they … they die, that is, of course, natural for humanoids, but, and this will sound very naive to you, Captain, but it didn't really occur to me that … that …"
"This is about Quark."
If he could, Odo would have blanched. Instead, he simply nods, and stares at the floor, and doesn't move.
He's not sure why he came at all, why he thought Sisko would have any wiser words than Kira. But the whole thing is beginning to twist him into shapes he never thought he could sustain. It's affecting his work. He can't concentrate. He doesn't want to take assignments, or leave the station for duty, and just last week he called out sick - called out sick! - just so he could have an excuse to spend the entire day with Quark in bed.
(Quark was suspicious, but he didn't complain.)
It Odo could have it his way, he'd force Quark to give up the bar, move them down to somewhere remote on Bajor, and neither of them would ever flirt with danger again, and life would be boring and simple and safe, and Odo would never leave Quark's side, never let anything touch him or hurt him or take him away-
And Odo knows this … this fear is sinking its insidious claws into him, chipping away at his life, until eventually there will be nothing left.
That is a life he cannot live, and a life he cannot force Quark to live, either.
So he finally meets Sisko's eyes, a man who has loved and lost just like Kira, desperately seeking an answer to a question he can't bring himself to ask.
"You're worried about what to do if and when anything happens to him." Sisko's face softens. His hands fold on the tabletop.
"Yes." Odo swallows, a solid habit. "I know you unfortunately have experience with such matters."
"I do." The words are spoken deep in Sisko's throat. He shifts, eyes far away for a moment. "As does Major Kira."
"She's already given me some advice," Odo says. "Valuable advice."
"But." Sisko waits.
"But I am still … struggling." Odo looks down at his formless hand and wills it into shape again, turning it over to study the lines in his palm. "Everything is finite except me."
"I think that's stretching it a bit. You can die too, Odo."
Odo sighs. "I already told Nerys - I can be killed, but I will not-"
"It is just as likely, if not more likely, that something could happen to you that would end your life before Quark. Your job is the more dangerous one. You put your life at risk far more than he does, running the bar." Sisko leans back in his chair and spins slightly away, toward the window. "That was something Jennifer, and Kasidy, and every other spouse of a Starfleet officer, or an officer of any kind, for that matter, has to come to peace with. Nothing is guaranteed. Certainly not tomorrow."
"And yet, with the odds in her favor, she died before you."
Odo wishes he could take it back the moment it leaves his mouth, but Sisko doesn't get angry. He just turns back to Odo and stares at him, his face carefully blank.
"Yes. She did." Sisko takes a deep breath. "The universe didn't care that I loved her, that I still love her. And even on the worst days after, when I thought I couldn't take it anymore without her, I survived."
"Do you wish, sometimes, that you'd never had someone so important to lose?"
Sisko chuckles, shaking his head with a smile that is both happy and sad at the same time. "Absolutely not. The time I had with her was short, too short, but I wouldn't trade it for anything. The pain of losing her isn't nearly as great or as powerful as loving her is. And that never goes away." Sisko's smile brightens. "The universe be damned. Besides," he gestures toward the door. "Quark is alive. He's right out there. Why waste a single moment dreading the inevitable when you have so many better moments between now and then?"
Odo isn't looking at Sisko anymore, but the window over his shoulder, gazing into the infinite cosmos. The word 'forever' laps at his heart - metaphorically, of course - in waves.
He doesn't have forever with Quark. He has something indefinite; a wild, blind running in the dark, never knowing where the edge is, never knowing when they'll fall off.
Sisko's words echo in the silent office. Between now and then. Between. That's all he has. An unmeasurable amount of time, starting right now.
"I believe I read somewhere that Ferengi can live up to three hundred years," Sisko finally says, breaking Odo's thoughts, forcing his eyes away from the window.
"Yes," Odo nods. "A healthy one."
"That's a hell of a lot longer than most humanoids get with someone they love. You do love him, don't you, Odo?"
"Yes." Odo is absolutely certain of little else.
"Then go enjoy your three hundred years." Sisko beams at him. "Dismissed."
Odo stands, nods respectfully to his Captain, and exits the office into Ops. He lingers a moment, observing, his gaze hovering momentarily on Worf. He is talking to the Chief. They are laughing about something - or, well, the Chief is laughing, and Worf is stifling his lips, but there is a distinct shaking in his shoulders.
There is evidence all around him that life goes on. Like death, it is inevitable.
Odo waits until closing. After an exhaustingly long conversation about Morn's troubled childhood, the Lurian finally leaves, the final patron, and he watches Quark's waiters clean off counters and clear dabo tables from where he sits perched on his barstool. Quark himself is giving instructions, pacing the floor, probably looking for loose change, the greedy little troll.
Odo can't help it - he smiles to himself. It stays there well after the last employee leaves, when it's just him and Quark, their newly developed tradition of sharing a drink together after another successful day of business. Well, Quark drinks, and adds up his profits, and Odo enjoys Quark standing still for a few minutes.
"You're not listening," Quark says, pulling Odo out of his reverie.
"I am so."
"Then what was the last thing I said?"
"Something about money."
Quark deadpans. "Ha. If I'm not interesting enough for you, then why don't you say something. You've been quiet all night. Too quiet, even for you."
Odo takes the opportunity to remove the PADD from Quark's hand and replace it with his own.
"Quark," he says, tone serious enough that Quark hesitates when he looks at him. Even the Ferengi's breathing stills in anticipation. "You're going to die someday."
A series of complicated expression flex across Quark's face in an impressively short amount of time. Surprise, confusion, concern - and then, clarity.
"So that's what all this is about."
"All this?"
"You, being weird and clingy." Quark raises his free hand. "Not that I mind clingy. Clingy is good. Makes me feel wanted."
"I'm glad my existential crisis is helping your self esteem."
"I've never felt more important." Quark gives a cheeky grin, but it fades when Odo doesn't continue the banter. "Odo," he says, coaxing the Changeling to look at him again. "This is really bothering you. Like, really, really bothering you."
"Of course it is. I - I regret wasting so much of our time before now, denying how I felt, because now I realize how … temporary, how brief this is, in the grand scheme of things. With the Great Link, I could live for thousands of years, hundreds of thousands, I have no idea, and even if I never went back to the Great Link, I'm still likely to outlive all of you by a great number, and that …" Odo stalls, voice failing him. When it comes back to him, it is quiet, reserved. "That scares me, Quark. Facing an existence without you."
Quark is silent for a long time. Odo isn't sure he's ever seen Quark speechless before, for quite this long. When he does speak again, he doesn't look at Odo, but the grip on his hand tightens significantly.
"Well, we have some common ground there. Because thinking about you getting killed out there …" Quark's teeth scrape at his bottom lip. "It scares me, too."
"How do you handle it?" Odo asks. "The fear?"
Quark thinks for a moment and finally shrugs. "I make out with you."
"Quark."
"I'm serious. I just, you know, try not to focus on it. Because, for now, you're here. And there's a whole lot of you that's much more interesting to focus on."
"You're impossible," Odo says, but he's smiling. Quark leans closer, taking Odo's other hand too, and presses his nose to Odo's. The ridges leave little indents in Odo's flesh.
"Three hundred years."
"What?"
"Three hundred years," Odo repeats. "That's the typical Ferengi lifespan." His eyes lower to where Quark's hands join his own and squeezes them. "Can you promise me three hundred years, Quark?"
"No." The answer is so quick that Odo blinks, reeling backward, only to find Quark smiling at him with every single one of his tiny, pointed teeth. "I'm going to promise you three hundred and one, at least. That is, if you don't get bored of me before then."
A smirk tucks into the corner of Odo's mouth. He leans forward, hovering close to Quark's mouth. "I wouldn't bet on that."
"I don't know," Quark whispers, his eyes heavy lidded, the words practically spoken directly onto Odo's tongue. "I can be really annoying."
"Fortunately for you, I happen to have a thing for annoying Ferengi."
Quark laughs, grabs Odo by the shirt front, and kisses him hard on the mouth, and Odo can feel the curve of Quark's smile on his lips, and he wants a thousand, ten thousand, a hundred thousand more kisses just like this one so that when Quark is gone - whenever that is - Odo will have enough good memories in his arsenal to last him the rest of his life without Quark.
But for now, Quark is alive. Quark is kissing him. And now is more precious than tomorrow.