Time is not linear.
Sisko learns this, eventually, as years and lives tumble over him in the endless moment of the Prophet's realm. His somewhat-mother takes his not-there hand and drags him through the twisting folds of her realm, a quick flash of movement that is made and done in the same instant, though he pauses to savor every fold in the ether around him. He should be alarmed by the sense of eternity filtering through the universe - for that is what this is, Universe, everything - but he knows better, instinctively. He is one of them now, a Prophet - a half-Prophet, at least - and time is meaningless. He does not think of Jake. He does not think of Kassidy. It has been a thousand years since he has seen them, and also a second, so the past (and future) can wait.
They call him 'The Sisko' to differentiate him from the others who glow bright and Eternal in the Universe. Their murmuring voices and teachings resound in his mind, running over his own ethereal illusion of skin and sinking into his not-there blood. He is becoming saturated in divinity.
"As it should be," his almost-mother whispers. "Because it will seep from your bones when you leave this place. Take what you can, and hold it."
He knows what is happening on Bajor, and what has happened, and what will happen. These are all the same, really. And, very dimly, he looks as well to Cardassia, a planet also touched by the Prophets. It is tied into the Being of Bajor. The two cycle together, Eternal in their bond of love and hatred. With this knowledge something in him settles.
He looks to Earth, with its faint resonance, the birth-place of a half-Prophet and the keeper of an Orb. But Earth fades in and out of the Universe. The Prophets are forever, but their connection to Earth is not. The Sisko does not mind. This, too, is at it should be.
The Prophets teach him to teach Bajor, whom they love. Sisko reaches through the Orbs with them, touching and pulling Visions from the minds of the worthy. He understands this, too, the heavy duty of giving neither too much nor too little. Enough information to guide, but not to enforce. The Bajorans have the help of the Prophets, if they want it, but their choices must be their own.
Once Sisko follows the touch of an Orb and sees a dark-skinned human. A child that shines with a faint shadow of the Prophets. But the others pull Sisko back, and he is not permitted to speak with her.
"Not yet," they say.
The Sisko is more calm now, but also more passionate. The Prophets are not without emotion; but they focus their emotion into a love of all things, spanning across time and the Divide, and their warmth for Bajor reaches through the shroud of the Gateway too thinly spread to seem bright.
The Sisko mourns this.
He sees the girl-child often through the light of the Orbs. He watches her as her limbs grow long and gangly, tasting the sweet radiance of her faint presence. She is Of Bajor, just as he is Of Bajor. When the girl grows taller she wears an earring in their style, but instead of the mark of a family name she wears the mark of all the Prophets. This is good. She will be among them, one day, after and before and when The Sisko himself is one of them.
History is a brutal thing, and also a sad thing. Especially history of the future, such as it is. The Sisko prefers to tumble through the visions of Bajor-before, when his beloved people think themselves Alone. When it is them and the Prophets and no one else. It is simple, peaceful.
Sometimes he visits them and looks at Bajoran-Cardassian faces, his only in part, and through choice. The Sisko wonders where the Prophets of the Cardassians live. He has never felt them in the Universe. But this is a thought of Grief, and the other Prophets chide him.
The girl-child is kind, and wise. She visits the Orbs regularly and is always respectful. There is resentment, too, shallow as it is. But mostly there is sorrow.
And longing.
Sometimes Bajor hurts, and The Sisko whispers words of advice to the planet's people. Sometimes Bajor hurts, and The Sisko touches the crops, the clouds, the sun, and brings relief. Sometimes Bajor hurts, and The Sisko can do nothing.
Some things are Eternal, too, and these things cannot (must not) be undone.
Sometimes The Sisko looks at the girl when she is away from the Orbs. She cries often.
The Universe is cold, but also warm. Contradictions are a constant. The Sisko understands this as he did not before, back when there really was a before.
He is The Sisko. He is Of Bajor. He has a Duty.
"It will fade," sighs the one who is nearly his mother. "But never in full. You will always be one of us."
He meets the girl, even though he does not, because time is fluid and so is reality. Her warmth reaches him through the Universe, and he thinks of his own almost-mother. Ah, he realizes, and understands.
They have discussions, or will have discussions, but that is before. The Prophet-girl, taller than the one he sees in the Orb-visions, touches his lightning-skin with a soft brush that is full of knowing. She is Eternal, and she loves him as he loves Bajor.
"Now," she whispers.
In the Fire Caves, Benjamin Sisko opens his eyes.