The Last Temptation of Odo

By

Creek Johnson and Nance Hurt

Disclaimer: We are but fleas on the elephants' posterior that is Paramount.

No infringement on their rights is intended. We hope none is taken.

She was not sure exactly what had awakened her. A habit long ingrained by years in the Resistance brought her to full wakefulness at the slightest disturbance of the stillness of the room. She lay awake, her eyes searching the darkness, her ears listening for any sound that did not belong.

After a moment she relaxed, convinced she must have just been dreaming. She reached for the only other occupant of the room. He lay still, pooled against her. Satisfied all was well, she settled herself for sleep.

In the twilight that lies between the conscious and subconscious, she heard the voice quite distinctly. It resonated in her mind - one puzzling word.

"Choose."

In a quiet corner of the habitat ring, in offices set aside for auxiliary Station personnel, lay the office of the Station's counselors.

Ezri Dax glanced at her patient. He sat bolt upright on the couch, arms crossed defensively across his chest. She considered it a mild triumph that he was finally willing at sit at all, considering that over the last four weeks he usually paced the duration of the appointment.

"Odo?" she prompted him gently. "We were discussing the events of this morning…"

He started at the sound of her voice and, not for the first time, she wished she were a Vulcan, assuming of course, that a mind meld would work on a Changeling. All eight previous hosts were dying for a chance to get a glimpse into how the mind of the Station's former Chief of Security worked, and if truth were told, Ezri was as well.

"This morning?" he asked cautiously.

"Quark's?"

"Ah, of course."

Ezri thought for a moment he almost looked relieved.

"I…" He began and then seemed to change his mind. He leaned forward slightly and looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "Do you have any idea…"

"Do you have any idea what it is like to walk into a room full of strangers and not know if they are in fact strangers, or you have just forgotten who they were?" asked Kira. She sat forward and looked Ezri straight in the eye. "That's the reality Odo has to live with every day. Of course he's depressed. Of course he wants to blow off a little steam. Who wouldn't?"

Ezri stifled a smile. Odo had said almost exactly the same thing during his session. However, she knew Odo was holding something back, something he resolutely refused to discuss she suspected not only with her but with anyone. As much as she disliked having to talk to others about her patients, she had to recognize that Odo's silence was getting them nowhere and, the more she understood his actions, the faster she could get to the bottom of what was eating Odo and try to find a way to help him cope.

"No," Ezri replied honestly. "My problem is generally the opposite. After eight lifetimes you find you don't meet many strangers, although it usually takes me awhile to figure out why I know someone. But we were talking about this morning…"

"I fail to understand why everyone wants to know about the fight this morning. Why this fight? There are fights in Quark's all the time."

"It's not this particular fight, or any of the other fights. The problem, as I see it, is that for two weeks Odo worked with Engineering doing the more difficult to reach jobs. The work seemed to take him out of himself and during that time he seemed to be adjusting. Then two weeks ago, for no reason, he quits. Ever since, there is a fight every time Odo goes into Quark's and as his counselor it occurs to me that there is a pattern to these incidents."

Ezri thought for a moment Kira was going to refuse to cooperate any further. It was risky asking Kira in the first place, considering how fiercely she seemed to protect Odo. Kira looked as though she was going to argue, but after a moment, her body relaxed and with a sigh, she placed her hands on the desktop.

Little did Ezri realize there were particular things about Odo's return to the Station that Kira could not discuss with anyone.

"Odo quit working for Engineering," replied Kira, at last. "Because he found overhearing conversations to be an embarrassment…"

"I am assuming a few of those conversations were about him," ventured Ezri.

Kira nodded. "More specifically," she replied, "about us."

The particulars of Kira and Odo's sex life had long been fodder for Station gossip, Ezri thought, with a slight smile. Even Jadzia had done her bit to fuel a lot of speculation on the subject. Okay, she thought, that explained some things, however, it did not entirely explain Odo's recent behavior. "I see," she said. "But this morning?"

"I was to meet Odo for lunch," Kira replied. "I was running late and Odo went early to secure a table and as I walked into the bar…"

"So," said Quark, "Odo walks into the bar. Well, no, I take that back, he never just walks into any room. He lurks in the doorway first as though he's expecting criminal activity to break out at any second. As though it would be any of his business." He stopped cleaning the bar, flipped the bar towel over his shoulder and leaned forward. "Tell me Counselor, why do you want to know about this fight anyway?"

Ezri merely tilted her head to one side and raised an eyebrow.

"Counselor-Patient confidentiality," he replied, holding up his hands in surrender. "But what about Bartender-Client confidentiality?"

"The fight…"

"Face it, Counselor, we're in the same line of business and you know it. What say you and I do a little…collaborating?"

"Quark," she warned.

"I'm thinking," he said, placing his elbows on the bar and resting his chin on one cupped palm. "That you're thinking that Odo is in some way responsible for all these fights. That you're thinking that he hangs out in here actually looking for a fight."

"And just why would I think that?" she asked, placing her elbows on the bar in imitation of his stance.

"Because you think he's depressed. Because you think that since he stopped doing little odd jobs for Engineering that he comes here to relieve the monotony of the day and the fights are a way of putting a little excitement back into his life."

"Maybe."

"Maybe you also think it could be an indication of a larger problem - that he might be just a little self destructive. Well?" he said, meeting her gaze.

"I think," she replied, taking a look around. The bar was not crowed, but there were more people there than she would have liked. "You and I need to take a look at your storeroom."

"With pleasure," said Quark, tying to play it cool. He quickly signaled to one of the waiters to watch the bar and glanced over his shoulder as he escorted her to the back. Excitement quickly turned to disappointment when once reaching the storeroom, Ezri sternly ordered him to sit.

"Talk," she demanded. "This morning…"

He gave her what he hoped was a rueful grin. "This isn't exactly what I had in mind when I suggested we collaborate."

"Quark."

"Okay. Odo comes in this morning and heads for the only empty table."

"How did he seem?" she asked.

"Gloomy as always. It's Odo we're talking about here, how do you expect him to seem?"

"Okay. He goes to the table."

"Half way there, this Human stands up and blocks Odo's way."

"And what did Odo do?"

"He just stood there, staring the man down. Which was odd, as this wasn't the kind of guy who would start a fight an expect to win."

"Describe him," said Ezri.

"Older. Human. Not in the best of health. I figured something was up, so I went over to see if I could cool things down."

"And did you?"

"Didn't have to. It turns out the Human was one of the Hero School."

"Hero School? What does that mean?"

Quark made himself more comfortable. "You Starfleet types ought to get out more often," he said. "Talk to anyone on this Station and you will find that on the subject of Odo they either think he's a hero for ending the War or a criminal for not ending it sooner. The Hero School wants to shake his hand and buy him a drink. The Criminal School wants to punch him in the face or kill him. This Human was of the Hero School."

"I see." I do need to get out more often, she thought.

"After he tells Odo this long story about how his son was on the Cardassian front, and how if the War hadn't ended when it did he was sure his son would have died, and how he wanted to thank Odo for doing what he did, when he did…blah...blah...blah. He offers to buy Odo a drink."

"And Odo, what was he doing during all this?"

"Odo? Odo hates the Hero School; you can see it all over his face. He was practically squirming while this old Human was droning on and on."

"And then?"

"Then Odo tells him that he doesn't drink. So the Human says he'd like to shake his hand, so Odo shakes his hand and practically falls all over himself trying to get away."

"Then how did Mr. Kimbata wind up in surgery?"

"Well, unfortunately for Mr. Kimbata, there's this Thraxian freighter docked at the Station and one of her crew was at the next table…"

"And I take it the Thraxian is of the Criminal School?"

"Exactly," agreed Quark. "And he's drunk. So when he stands and tries to take a punch at Odo, he loses his balance and hits Mr. Kimbata instead. All hell breaks loose after that and poor Mr. Kimbata gets caught in the crossfire."

Ezri sat for a minute and gave the situation some thought. "Are all the fights like this?" she asked eventually.

"Just about," agreed Quark. "Just the other day this Bolian wants to buy Odo a drink and when he says he doesn't drink the Bolian gets mad and takes a swing at him. Funny thing is, when it became clear that the Bolian wasn't going to take no for an answer, Odo gets this gleam in his eye. Same sort of gleam he used to get when he thought he had caught me out."

"And you didn't do anything to stop it?"

"Why should I?" asked Quark. "Odo's a big boy, he can look after himself. Besides that, I make money either way. I make it off those who come to the bar hoping to buy him a drink and I make money off those who just hang around hoping for a fight."

"What I don't understand is why he keeps coming in here," said Ezri thoughtfully. "You say he hates being thanked and he can't possibly enjoy being the object of derision."

"Can't he?" asked Quark. "Look, he understands derision, he understands people being suspicious of him, and he even understands people just out and out hating him because he's different. He knows where he stands with a person who wants to punch him in the face; he's dealt with people like that his entire life. What he doesn't know, is where he stands with one that wants to buy him a drink. What he doesn't understand, is people he doesn't even know thinking he's a great guy. He's never had to deal with that before. It would be hard enough for a normal person to deal with you can imagine how hard it is for a person as paranoid and suspicious as Odo, especially when he doesn't think he deserves it."

"That's ridiculous," protested Ezri. "In the last month there have been four governments, maybe more, just within the Federation that have expressed a desire to give him a medal…"

"And he's turned each and every one of them down. Why? It's not because he's modest, but because deep down in what passes for his heart he knows he doesn't deserve the honor."

"Why would he think he doesn't?"

Think about it Counselor," said Quark. "What was the big idea in the first place? Why did he really end the war?"

Ezri gave it some thought. "So," she said, eventually. "He could save the Link and teach his people to get along with Solids." Understanding began to dawn on her. "But he only accomplished…"

"He only accomplished one of those goals before the Link tossed him out…"

"He failed. Failed himself and the Alpha Quadrant. Poor Odo," said Ezri, with a shake of her head. "What a terrible burden to carry. No wonder he's been a little self destructive lately."

"Poor Odo," said Mora Pol. "No wonder he's depressed. No wonder he hasn't returned my calls."

Kira looked at the man who played such an important part in Odo's early life and wished, not for the first time, that Mora wasn't so irritating. She did not pretend to understand the somewhat complex relationship Odo maintained with Mora but, then again, she never tried. She knew from long experience that any relationship with Odo was bound to be complex, but the rewards were worth the effort.

However, the real reason in asking Mora to the Station was that something was bothering Odo, something he would not even discuss with her. As much as it hurt her to think that Odo would not confide in her, she had hoped he would eventually say something to Mora.

"He's bound to blame himself for all of this," Mora's words caught her attention. "He always did tend to internalize everything. Which is why it's so unfortunate I will not be able to visit the Station as we had planned."

"Why not?" Kira was surprised to find she was slightly disappointed. Granted, she had asked Mora to visit hoping it would take Odo's mind off his difficulties settling back into Station life and, although she had not been looking forward to having to spend any time with the bossy scientist, she had thought Odo would benefit from the visit.

"Symposium on Karados Prime. One of the speakers had to cancel at the last minute and I've been asked to take her place. Of course, you could always send Odo to Bajor…"

"I don't think that is such a good idea," said Kira, quickly squelching the idea. With Odo's memory still playing tricks on him, she did not want to be responsible for the consequences of turning him loose in Mora's lab. "Perhaps another time."

"You may want to reconsider, Colonel." Mora was not pleased; the use of her title was a clear indication. "There's no telling what effect his time in the Link may have had on him. He may not ever be the same person."

"He may not even be the same person," ventured Flato Ray. "Do we even know if this is the real Odo?"

"What makes you think that?" asked Ezri.

She sat in the Security Office and looked at the two officers before her. Try as she might, Ezri had never gotten used to the idea of John Marshall sitting behind the desk that had, in her mind, always belonged to Odo.

"Come now, my dear Flato," remarked John Marshall, ignoring the presence of the Counselor. "The Colonel says he is Odo and I, for one, am inclined to take her word for it. And yes, before you ask, we do know for certain that the Colonel has not been replaced by a Changeling infiltrator."

"It's just…" began Flato. "He's behaving so oddly lately. Not like the Odo I remember at all. Granted my appointment to the Station came late in the war…"

"I would venture to say he is not the Odo you remember," replied Marshal. "Any one of us may change in two years time, why would he not as well?"

"So, you plan on doing nothing about these fights?" asked Ezri.

"Most assuredly something will be done," said Marshall with conviction. "However," I believe you will agree that we must tread carefully where our Mr. Odo is concerned. He was, after all, a security officer, if we were to place him under guard every time he stepped out of the Colonel's quarters, how long do you suppose it would take him to ditch his escort?"

"Not long," agreed Ezri.

"I concur. So, what I propose we do is step up our presence in Quark's and in the habitat ring. With any luck we can prevent anymore incidents from occurring."

"But," protested Ezri. "That doesn't exact help address the problem."

"My dear Lieutenant," said Marshall. "Hercules Poirot may be interested in the psychology of the individual but we do not have that luxury. We take care of crimes when they are committed and try to prevent them when we may. Babysitting is not one of our functions."

"Just one question if I may?" asked Ezri. "Who is Hercules Poirot?"

In his quarters, he sat on the couch and stared unseeing at the padd he held in his hand. Try as he might to keep his mind on the book he was reading, his thoughts kept coming back to the matter than plagued him.

Eventually, he stood and sat in front of the console. He did not need to see the message again, he knew every word by heart, but like a pulled tooth in a human, his thoughts like a tongue, kept running over the open wound. Without conscious effort his hands called up the saved messages stored in the Stations computer.

Ignoring the accumulated unread messages of the last two weeks, most of which were marked urgent, it took him only a minute to find what he was looking for. His hand trembled as it hovered over the keys and, with a sigh, he pressed the command. The screen went black for an instant and the face of Commander Gevrik appeared.

"Odo," said Gevrik, with customary Vulcan directness. "An official report has been filed with Starfleet, however, I felt it necessary to alert you privately. Fourteen days ago anesticine gas was pumped into the air ventilation ducts that supply the Science Facility on the Founders home world, with the result that all personnel were rendered unconscious for a period of two days."

"The purpose of the attack it appears was to keep non-Dominion personnel out of the way while the planet was evacuated. We were left entirely alone without so much as a Jem'Hadar or Vorta remaining behind. No trace has been found of where the Founders have gone. We theorize the Dominion has developed a new method of masking warp signatures…."

He stopped the recording in mid sentence, his hand hovering over the delete command for a moment before finally saving the message. He stood and picked up the padd, thumbing through the pages without actually seeing the words.

"We were left entirely alone on the planet," Gevriks' voice sounded in his head. "No trace has been found of where the Founders have gone." Two weeks. The message was two weeks old when it was delivered. A month. A month he had been back on the Station. They had to have known. As soon as he arrived back on the Station, the Founders packed up and left. An evacuation of that scale must have been planned well in advance; they must have planned to leave him all along.

He should not care, he thought, they were done with him. They made that painfully clear. He was no longer one of theirs, he never had been. He should not care. His grip on the padd tightened until it crumbled under his hands.

Two years, he thought, two years of his life wasted. More than that, it was more than two years. What was it seven? Seven years wasted all for nothing? Wasted all in order to achieve some understanding. He had wished to give them understanding of the Alpha Quadrant. They understood all right. Understood only too well, and whatever plans they had now for the Alpha Quadrant would, in some way, have been done with his cooperation. Whatever they planned would, in a way, be his fault.

An impotent fury raged beneath his carefully composed surface. Odo fought the urge to go to Quark's. Fought the urge to return to his old quarters and tear them apart with his bare hands. He stared at his hands and sighed. What if he were to destroy his old quarters? What if he were to vent his fury against every solid structure in the Station?

Nothing, he thought with a bitter laugh. Nothing would be solved.

He watched as the bits and pieces of the padd fell from his hands and wished, not for the fist time, that he could cry.