Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.


"She loved you, you know." Major Kira didn't seem angry anymore, which was strange. She seemed tired, stressed and drained, with circles under her eyes eloquently bespeaking the strain she had been under those past few weeks.

Garak nodded in agreement, not bothering to contradict or deny her, as he moved closer to Ziyal's body, lying prostrate and motionless on one of the hospital beds. "I never knew why," he admitted, with a peculiar pain that even Garak, who had so much experience interpreting the emotional responses of others, could not identify, that pain making his face momentarily contort, before order was restored. "Now, I guess I never will." Her skin was cold, Garak noted dully, as he lifted a hand to brush the skin of Ziyal's face.

The one puzzle I could never solve. Tain would be so very disappointed in me.

Neither Garak nor Major Kira made any attempt to speak or leave, as they waited for someone to come and take Ziyal's body out of the infirmary. A grim understanding and acceptance passed between them. They were no closer than acquaintances, had never been friends, and had on occasion been enemies, but Garak knew that Kira would put up no protest to his being in the same room with her now, and he was more than willing to return the favor.

The moments ticked by in silence, the only sound being Doctor Bashir going about his duties in the next room, leaving them alone as they waited. Garak had had the opportunity to watch the changes that came over the doctor in the past weeks, and recognized the sounds of the routine Bashir was going about without even having to look at him. Run diagnostics, make sure there was enough equipment and supplies, be sure that nothing had been damaged in the last firefight. Except they weren't on a starship anymore, and Bashir was going through hollow movements.

There was a moment when Kira opened her mouth to say something, a familiar acerbic mien coating her face, and Garak wondered if she was going to raise questions about the old Cardassian taboo, about the strictures prohibiting non-Cardassians from seeing Cardassian dead. Garak found himself inexplicably relieved when Kira decided to let sleeping dogs lie and didn't try to get a jab in.

She's half-Bajoran, too, and anyway, I don't think Ziyal… I don't think Ziyal would have minded.

Garak chose that moment to curse his own naïveté. He couldn't believe that it had never occurred to him that Ziyal might not be alive when he finally returned to the station, in all the moments he had had to himself, sitting in those starships, resting in Federation starbases. And he couldn't believe that it had never occurred to him that he would miss her, if she were to die.

Finally, after a terrible, interminable eternity, two men came, with a white blanket and a stretcher. Garak opened his mouth to give some sort of greeting, but found his tongue dry and mute. For the first time in his life, he was lost for words. Garak said not a word, as the white shroud was drawn over Ziyal's body, and the two men lifted the unfeeling corpse onto the stretcher as though she was made of glass. She had always seemed that way, Garak mused absently. As brittle and frail as glass.

He started and frowned, throwing his eyes towards the Promenade, as a sharp, keening wail echoed through the still air. Another came, then another.

"Dukat," Kira told him, by way of explanation. Her slightly raw voice was immensely bitter, and when Garak met her eyes, they were bleak and heavy. "Dukat's lost his mind."

Garak wondered at that point if Dukat would be escorted to a tribunal to stand trial for war crimes—or if he would be transported to an insane asylum.

Another shattering howl, eerie and ghostly, resounded in the infirmary. Garak looked at his feet, frowning.

"He's inflicted so much pain on others," the Bajoran woman resumed, her voice unnaturally quiet. "It was about time he tasted some of that pain himself."

But Kira wasn't happy, and when their gazes met again, Garak didn't have to ask why.