~Kira~
Her name on his tongue drew her eyes to his for the first time. And for the first time since the docking doors opened it was real. He was kneeling in front of her, and then he stood and stepped outside closing the door behind him. She heard the low rumble of his voice play counterpoint to Rahnu Ehnar's melodic hum. The dark feathered, pale skinned woman must have moved off quietly, because when Odo opened the door again, he was alone. Now she couldn't pull her gaze from him. Followed him as he walked to a cabinet, withdrew a cup, and filled it from a pitcher. Only when he held the cup to her, did she realize he had poured her water. Her brain fought to keep up with the signals being sent to it. He wrapped her hand around the rough pottery cup. She lifted it to her lips and sipped it, aware, at least that too much food or water would simply make her wretch again, which was the last thing she wanted. He knelt and then sat on the floor in front of her, leaning lightly against her shins, one hand looped tenderly around her ankle. Closing her eyes, she narrowed her world to the slow sipping of cool clean water, the soft weight of him on her legs, and the impossibly gentle pressure of his hand.
By the time subdued rapping signaled Rahnu's return, Kira's thinking was slightly cleared and her headache had mellowed somewhat. She was relieved when Odo simply took the tray and basket with a woven fabric handle from her at the door, thanked her, and bade her goodnight. It registered with her mind for the first time that this race's legs bent the wrong way at the knee and hip. She also noticed that Odo had maintained his familiar generic humanoid form. She would ask him later, when she could think again. Rahnu was kind, Kira decided, even if she seemed ambitious and her eyes lingered too long on him.
"She brought food and several changes of clothes," Odo murmured when he turned around. "I want you to have a few bites first, maybe of the soup, but then I expect you will want to clean up a little."
Kira looked down at herself with shame and disgust. She'd done the best she could to wipe the traces of vomit from her borrowed uniform, but with limited water and no access to any kind of toileting facilities, evidence of her reactions to the Thalid'ieean food was dried into the weave and buckles. Evidently the Thalid'ieeans had no sweat or oil glands, for they felt no need to bathe, and did not smell worse for it. She couldn't smell herself anymore – her nose had grown accustomed to the sour, stale, acidic scent. For once she was grateful that Changelings didn't have a proper sense of smell. She nodded her assent, and then looked away, more than a little ashamed at the way in which she had come to him. She was not accustomed to appearing weak and wretched, and bore more than a little resentment towards the Founders for her current state. But if it was a test of her resolve, she had surely passed, for she was here, now, with the one dearest in the universe to her standing nearby and looking fiercely concerned.
Moments later another cup with barely more than a few tablespoons of a purplish broth was pressed into her hand. "Sip this. I'll draw you a bath."
The words registered after he had left the room and a smile parted her lips as she drank the soup. She couldn't remember the last time she had taken a hot bath. There were none on the station. Except on the holosuites, which didn't count in the proper order of things. The soup, it finally occurred to her was mild, but exceptionally flavored. Her stomach spasmed shortly thereafter, and it hurt, but she didn't bring anything up. When the discomfort passed she took another small swallow and then another. There were minced pieces of vegetables in it. It felt like manna of the Prophets sliding warmly down her rough throat. The sound of her own swallowing was loud and strange in her ears. Beyond that she could hear the tone of falling water changing as the tub filled. When she finished the small portion he passed her, she began the tedious chore of unbuckling. Confused and dull, her fingers struggled from fastening to fastening. Truly, these were the most ridiculous, cumbersome and unwieldy uniforms. The Thalid'ieeans, with their silvery gray scales and angular faces looked intimidating in them, but beyond that, and the fact that the woven, leatherish fabric offered more protection than other more traditional fibers, she could see no real tactical advantage for the sheer amount of hardware, buckles, and zippers. After the first day she had discovered how few buckles she could get away with undoing to remove the suit. Twenty eight was the bare minimum to slide it off of her body. It was ridiculous. Of course, she only removed it to relieve herself in the receptacle provided for her in the corner of her metal cell. She took it off for a little while to sleep, but got so chilled; she left it on after that. The boots had nine buckles each, and like the suit, were too tight in awkward places and hopelessly oversized in others.
Odo returned, gently pulled her hands from the buckles and led her to the bathroom, with its modest tub. She smiled briefly, broadly, at the steam that rose from it. Her smile faded as Odo fell into step unbuckling her. "Oh, Prophets, don't touch me! Please, I'm covered in week old vomit."
He ignored her, working the buckles loose efficiently but with gentle care. "I seem to remember being helped and held and touched by a young Colonel when I looked like the bottom of a pair of Klingon battle boots and thought I was dying. And she didn't think it was disgusting."
Kira closed her eyes. She remembered how frightened she had been underneath it all, how sickly and strange he felt beneath her fingers, her lips. She remembered praying that she would not break off pieces of him. How it made her ache to look at him, how relieved she was when they had cured him, and then almost before she had him back he was gone again. Not dead, worse almost; alive, perfectly, beautifully whole, but leaving, forever. Finally she opened her eyes again. He'd been watching her face, the play of memories and emotions flickering honestly over her exhausted flesh. When her eyes met his, he held her gaze for a long time. Held it for so long the room seemed to fade around them.
He ducked his head finally, helped her with her boots, unbuckling far faster than she could have in her current state. She watched him wince when he pulled them off and could see the extent of the open sores from blisters on her ankles and the sides of her feet. He loosened the final few buckles on her left and helped peel the ungainly suit off of her. Her skin was chaffed raw in more than a few spots. His touch became even more gentle at the sight of her bruised, starved body. Gingerly, he helped her into the bath, and then whispered hoarsely, "Nerys, what did they do to you?"
She sighed and closed her eyes, hissing from the sting of her wounds, then relishing the feel of the hot water and the sound of his voice forming her name. Her perceptions, the trailings of thoughts settled into slightly more normal rhythms. "Not their fault. They told me that I was beamed aboard naked and unconscious. They brought me what food and clothing they had."
She slid under the water for a moment and then emerged, rubbing the sheeting water from her face and eyes. She took up the soap he offered and ran it over her arms and shoulders. "The water they had was nearly undrinkable, tasted more or less like machine oil. I was given a typical guest quarters, but Bajoran anatomy and biochemistry are different enough from their own that it was pretty miserable. I've been conscious eleven or twelve days. Don't know how long I was out." Her voice lowered, "Or how much longer I would have survived without water or food."
The words made them both remember, and before she could ask, Odo said, "I'll go get a bit more soup."
He delivered the small glazed cup with averted eyes, as though the trip to the other room reminded him of how long it had been, and how very naked she was. Kira smoothed her lips from the tugging smile. She caught his arm with the barest touch when he turned to leave. "Please. Stay."
His eyes shone silver in the ambient light of the bathroom. He nodded - a small, sharp motion, so familiar to her, it was all Kira could do to pull her hand away. She sipped at the broth for want of something to occupy and ground her. Finally she felt steadied enough to speak. "Talk to me while I soak and wash up. Tell me about your life here, the people you help, your friends; Delegate Rahnu is very fond of you and seems kind."
Odo nodded. From the continued rise and fall of his eyes she could tell he was trying not to let them come to rest where her nipples peeked at him from under the water, she sank a few inches deeper, unable to hide the half grin that broke through her resolve. "The people here, Rahnu included, are all very kind to me. Overly grateful, perhaps, for the help I have offered."
He leaned against a wall facing slightly away from her. He spoke haltingly at first, "I left the link, as you can see. They taught me many things after I healed them. I experienced how they created the Jem Had'ar and the Vorta. I learned how to reshuffle and resequence the viruses and phages they have created to render them inert and harmless. My shapeshifting abilities have grown, Nerys, so very much. I existed as a space faring life form for several weeks, exploring a particularly lovely gaseous nebula. On this planet I have spent time shuffling amongst the storm clouds. It was unbelievably exhilarating. I finally understand what the Founder tried to show me the first time, in the Changeling Garden."
She smiled as his voice lost all hesitancy, and she closed her eyes and felt as though she was back in his office on the promenade. "To mimic is only how it begins. To copy a form. That is what Mora taught me. Truly, Nerys, my time forced into human form was a fascinating education, though it was meant to be a punishment. Previous to that I learned through observing and used my observations to shape my outer form. When the Link forced me into solid form, I became human. It was not an approximation or a mimic. I was connected and disconnected to my new self, and all its workings. Afterwards, I knew what it felt to be human, could recreate a much more precise, though not wholly accurate, version from the inside out. My working model of sensory input was much more functional, efficient, and elegant then before. I always found that my humanoid form tended to limit my tactile receptiveness, but discovered that I could increase it by creating humanoid nerve pathways and running threads of my gelatinous self just beneath the surface of mimetic skin. I created a vascular system in much the same way. I found it rather freeing and tinged my bipedalism with the same soothing pleasure of existing in my natural state. But, now, Nerys, now I understand what it is to become a thing. On a genetic level, on a subatomic level, to loosen the silicon based mimetic bonds and reform myself a carbon based solid, to sequence my very DNA to exist as a solid. It was how the Changelings evaded detection for so long; the learned to become human. I have learned to see myself for exactly what I am and can be, and that is everything else in the universe. It's so very sad that the Link has this understanding, but not the reverence for what it means. They cannot see past themselves to the beauty of that which they can become. "When I become a thing, I understand it, or try to. When they become a thing it is to master it, manipulate it, bend it to their will and sense of order. They have learned to want nothing but themselves. Even after I joined them they could not see past what they considered their superiority.
"I have learned so much, Nerys. I have been to four worlds, so far, ravaged by the misconceptions of the Founders, trying to put things right. The Founders want to right the devastation that they have wrecked, or they would not have taught me how to undo their genetic retributions; the engineered viruses and microbes that they've used to make examples of whole worlds. They regret their actions, but they are terrified of anything," he paused, seemed uncomfortable. "Anything or anyone they cannot control, much like the solids.
"They agreed to certain terms, they themselves recreated the Vorta and Jem Had'ar to have free will and basic solid biological drives for food, water, shelter, family, procreation and self expression. They genetically altered the worst of the violence out of the Jem Had'ar recreating them as guardians of all life forms, not just the silicon based Founders, though many chose to remain in protective service of the Founders.
"I think returning to the Link irrevocably altered it. I do not think they will ever again be the threat they were, but they are terrified of the sickness, of what happened. It will take lifetimes to rebuild trust between them and the solids."
"Hmm, s'good thing then, that you have lifetimes to work towards that goal," her voice stopped him, seemed to wake him up, snapped his attention to her.
"Do you miss the Link?" she watched him from beneath her eyelashes.
He nodded, "Very much."
He blinked and tipped his head back, looking skyward. She could tell he was measuring his words. It was as if he didn't want to concern her too much. When he spoke again, it didn't feel like the full truth. "I left when I was sure they would cause no more harm to solids unless it was to directly protect the Link. I have been traveling since."
Though she noticed his skirting of the topic immediately; she chose to let him continue. They would hopefully have time for that conversation later.
"The first two worlds were perfect to get my bearings on. They had only been targeted with the virus in a sweep of contaminations a handful of months prior to the end of the war. They still had thriving trade, functioning governments, economies, and intact infrastructures. Since then, I have helped two other worlds prior to this one. It was slower going with those; more of the population was incapacitated and while their infrastructures were fully intact, their economies were hovering on the brink of complete collapse. They are still struggling, but with a recovering workforce, and worldwide trade agreements reached, they are headed in the right direction. I still have regular communications with the leaders, and am working on jump starting their interstellar commerce.
"This world was slightly more severe. Their infrastructure was beginning to experience serious problems, but with almost the entire population cured, and the new interim government in place, they have almost finished all primary road, transport, structural, and public building repairs. Community aide projects are off the ground and functioning. Schools are back open as are clinics and hospitals. This province was the first I began working with, but due to an earthquake in another, I had to leave. There was much to be done, many to be helped and fed, clothed and sheltered." He closed his eyes briefly.
"So now I am back, and Rahnu and I are making sure that all tasks have been appropriately delegated, and I am finishing up healing the more remote populations in this area. We will be scouring the plateau and mountains for individual families and clans who have not come for help. We should be leaving after the incoming storm within a week or so, so you will have a chance to come see the Aching Mountains up close if you wish. If," he paused and looked at her through the steam of the bath, not quite meeting her gaze, "you are staying that long?"
Both had been careful up to that point, to not mention their common past or the future, or even the fact that she had travelled through a wormhole and prophets know where else to find him. So, there it was finally; he was asking her for her intentions.
What she wanted to tell him was how deeply she loved him, how much her time with him meant to her. She wanted to tell him that some nights it was almost too much to bear, this heart rending need she felt, the aching loneliness. That she would and had travelled the reaches of the galaxy to find him, and now that she had found him, nothing could force her away.
That wasn't true. All it would take would be for him to tell her to go. She willed the doubt out of her mind. To have come this far, only to have to turn back was not something she wanted to think about. She wanted to ask him point blank if there were others. Lovers. If he loved anyone the way they had loved each other. She fought with her only slightly less befuddled neurons to form a coherent thought that she could actually speak aloud, and could only come up with, "If you want me here, I would very much like to see them again, closer up."
