A/N: The more I write of this thing, the less I know where the hell it's going. Next chapter could take a little while... please be patient with me, I know I should have given myself more of a head start before I began posting, I know. But I just couldn't wait.

4: MAKING A MEAL OF ME NOW

This lot, this lot have messed you around

Open, open your arms

– Editors

On the morning after the latest raiding party, when everyone was exhausted and grimy and desperate for some sleep after spending the night fighting off Jem'Hadar destroyers hell-bent on taking down the minefield, Sisko called Kira into his office. It had been a bad night, at the end of a bad week; eight people were dead, dozens more injured, and the station itself had taken a serious beating, despite O'Brien's last minute modifications to the shields and a risky bit of jerry-rigging which allowed them to launch torpedoes, though without any guidance systems, automatic lock or failsafes. The captain's normally affable face looked tired and lined, his shoulders slumped as he sat at his desk. Kira stood rather stiffly on the other side, all too aware that she hadn't yet had time for a shower or breakfast, and wondered what it was about. She had a sudden panic attack – perhaps, as a result of their argument and subsequent stony silence, Odo had told Sisko about what happened with Dukat? As Sisko looked up at her, she had to fight the urge to run away.

'Everything alright, sir?' she asked, mentally steeling herself for a highly unpleasant confrontation. Sisko sighed and shook his head, waving her to a chair.

'This can't carry on, Major,' he said heavily. 'We're at a complete stalemate with the Dominion, and what the Cardassians are doing is anyone's guess. All along the border, it's the exact same story; skirmish after skirmish, day after day, with nothing to show for it but a few hundred kilometres gained or lost and a whole lot of people dead. Something has to change. We've got to tip the balance in our favour somehow, or this will simply go on forever.'

'I agree,' Kira answered, relief flooding through her, instantly softening her tensed muscles. Not about Dukat, then. 'But what can we do, apart from dig in and hold out? I'm guessing Starfleet isn't going to launch another offensive any time soon, and Bajor's still neutral.'

'You're not going to like this, Major, but in my opinion it's the Cardassians who are the key in all of this. Starfleet Command also share my view.'

'Sir, what's this all about?' Kira asked uneasily, the tension returning. Sisko shrugged.

'It's difficult to explain.' He leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head, deep in thought for a minute. 'Last night before the attacks I had a rather strange communiqué from Admiral Nechayev, on behalf of a man called Sloan who claims to be from Starfleet Intelligence.'

'What d'you mean, claims to be?' Kira asked suspiciously, her long-held distrust of Starfleet, intelligence services, bureaucracy, admirals and authority in general coming to the surface in a bitter rush.

'I mean, there's no proof,' Sisko answered. 'I ran a search for him in the Starfleet personnel database, and there's hardly any biographical information on him at all, even in the classified section. His official role is described as "Deputy Director of Internal Affairs," whatever that's supposed to mean, and beyond that there's almost nothing else. I mean, he's probably who he says he is if Nechayev knows about him, but you can never be too careful these days.'

'And he's talking to you because...?' Kira prompted him, still not knowing what the point of all this was. Sisko looked closely at her.

'He requested you for a special assignment on Cardassia, Major.'

'On Cardassia?' Kira repeated, stunned and increasingly wary. 'What kind of mission?'

Perhaps Dukat, during the interrogations he was probably being subjected to – thinking of that gave her a strange hot-cold feeling in her stomach – had confessed everything, and now Starfleet Command were going to punish her somehow. The hell with that, the cynical, angry side of her said. You're not one of theirs, they can't do shit to you.

She still didn't like the idea of them knowing.

'I have no idea,' Sisko said, 'the message doesn't go into much detail. Here, maybe it's simpler if you just hear it yourself.'

Sisko activated his computer and typed in a few commands, then swivelled the monitor around so Kira could see it. Admiral Nechayev appeared on the screen.

'Hello, Benjamin,' she said, somehow managing to sound bored, disdainful and smug all at once. Kira had only met her once, and hated her guts. 'I know you're probably very busy out there, so I'll keep this brief. I've had a request from Director Sloan of Starfleet Intelligence – he wants to assign a member of your staff, Major Kira Nerys, to a special mission on Cardassia Prime which will be vital to the war effort, and about which I am not at liberty to say any more over subspace. Once you acknowledge receipt of this message, a transport will be sent to Deep Space Nine at top speed to bring Major Kira to Starbase 27. A replacement officer will also be assigned to her position to cover for as long as is necessary. The Bajoran government have been made aware of the situation and have given their consent for Major Kira to be absent from her post. Personnel files for the replacement officer, transfer logs and all other relevant documents have been sent to you via an encrypted link attached to this message.'

'What!' Kira exploded, over Nechayev's perfunctory best wishes and sign-off. 'They can't do that! And what the hell are the Provisional Government playing at? Since when is it OK for your people to give them orders?'

'I haven't replied yet, Major,' Sisko said with a wry smile. 'Don't panic, I'm not about to pack you off to Starbase 27 on some wild goose chase without a damn good reason why. The high-ups seem to have forgotten that DS9 requires a first officer with proper experience, not just some Academy ace who's spent all their life on ships a long way from any enemy borders. That's no good to me now.'

Sisko's frank praise made her blush with pleasure, even through the heat of her anger, and she felt her cheeks turn brilliantly pink. She couldn't quite meet his eyes.

'It means a lot to hear you say that, sir. But it sounds like they've already decided I'm doing this mission, whatever it is, if they've sorted out a new officer and everything. Doesn't exactly leave me much choice, does it?'

She suddenly realised something she should have picked up on much earlier, and stopped short. Dukat and Starfleet Intelligence... a special mission on Cardassia...

Take care, Iliana.

Prophets, this was his idea all along. Damn him!

'The bastard,' she spat, ignoring Sisko's astonishment. 'He gives himself up after putting everybody through all that hell, then expects me to do his dirty work again! And he knows I can't refuse, because this time the entire damn quadrant's relying on me! Bastard!'

'Major, would you mind explaining just what it is that's got you so mad?' Sisko exclaimed. She clamped her lips shut on several more choice insults, and took a deep breath.

'You remember Iliana Ghemor?'

'I remember when the Cardassians abducted you and tried to make you believe you were her,' Sisko said darkly, and she deeply appreciated the anger that passed across his face.

'Yeah. Not the best week of my life. Well, I've just put two and two together and come up with about six hundred. You said it yourself just now: the Cardassians are the key in this whole mess. And the Cardassian who made this whole mess is now in the custody of Starfleet Intelligence. You heard what he said to me as they took him away, right?'

'I didn't understand it,' Sisko admitted. 'I thought he was trying to be funny or something.'

'If only. No, that was his own special way,' Kira rolled her eyes, 'of telling me that this covert ops mission involves me becoming Iliana Ghemor again. I'm going to have to infiltrate Cardassia Prime and... I don't know, start a revolution or something, turn them against the Dominion somehow.'

It sounded strange, saying it so baldly and plainly like that. Even the thought of it was ludicrous; infiltrating the heartland of the most secretive, paranoid and above all observant race in the quadrant, in order to persuade an entire society of brainwashed, blinkered totalitarians to rebel against their beloved State. Just her against a thousand years of institutionalised hate and repression and lies, drummed into every one of them from the cradle to the grave. Take care, Iliana, indeed.

'So Dukat's managed to make some kind of deal with Intelligence, and now they're both throwing you to the wolves?'

'Uh-huh. I'm Bajoran, that's what I'm here for,' she snapped. 'Cardassians do the planning, we get sent to our deaths. Revolution, my ass – this is the way it's always been!'

'He really was serious,' Sisko said quietly. 'He really did want to turn on the Dominion, and it all went horribly wrong. What a nightmare,' he sighed. 'It's bad enough when you know who your enemies are, but now we've got the Cardassians playing double games all over the place and the damn Romulans lurking in the background as well... You know, Major, this mission might be our only chance, because we're sure as hell not having much luck any other way!'

Kira sat back in her chair, disgusted. Dukat had trapped her, yet again, and this time he'd got Starfleet Intelligence to help him do it. He'd stitched her up to get his own ass out of jail, if that indeed was what the other end of the deal involved, and he knew she couldn't back out. Well, she could, but if the Dominion won the war as a result then she'd have to live with it, and he knew she couldn't do that. She had to accept it as yet more evidence that the Prophets had it in for her, tangling her up with the Cardassians yet again. She'd never be free of them; she'd have to do this, because it was the lesser of two evils, at least as far as the quadrant at large was concerned. Still, somehow it was worse when she knew she couldn't shout and rant at Dukat, see him laugh at her anger and almost want to laugh herself in spite of everything, with that special kind of unbalance that only he could make her feel. Then he'd stop laughing and she'd realise that he was actually desperate, realise that it wasn't a joke. She wondered if he missed her. She wondered what they'd done to him, whether she'd see him if she went to Starbase 27 to meet this Director Sloan character. She wondered if she even wanted to see him.

'Alright,' she sighed. 'So I have to disguise myself as a Cardassian who's supposed to be dead, find a way onto what is probably the most heavily-guarded planet in the quadrant, and start a revolution amongst people whose only response to rebels is killing them – all without getting caught? Have they any idea what they're asking?'

'You don't have to do it, Major,' Sisko told her gently. 'This isn't even your fight. I can tell Admiral Nechayev to find another way, or ask someone else – '

'No, sir,' she said. 'This became my fight six weeks ago. I'll do it.'

Because there really, really wasn't another way, and there was no one else they could ask. Dukat had known all along how this would end; he tried to make her see, and she didn't – or she wouldn't. He'd relish the irony of a Bajoran resistance fighter leading a Cardassian revolution. She wouldn't have done, because the very suggestion would have made her furious if he'd put it to her freely. But now they were all twisting each other's arms, and his absence somehow lessened her fury because it was mixed up with so many other things. He was desperate. Starfleet were desperate. The Cardassians were probably desperate, if they even knew the meaning of the word. Everyone was desperate. And sometimes the craziest, most horribly ironic idea was actually the perfect solution.

At least, it would have been perfect if it wasn't her who had to do it.

'You're really sure about this? It's not going to be easy, Major. I'd hate to lose you.'

Sisko's dark, steady eyes were anxious on her face. She felt a bewildering mixture of pride, anger, reassurance and dread, but she slammed it hard down inside and nodded coolly. There was no way to get out of this, so she might as well be professional about it.

'Tell Nechayev I'll start packing.'

Nechayev didn't lie when she said top speed; the transport was due to arrive at 0800 the next morning, having travelled at maximum warp all through the night. Kira was pacing the corridors restlessly, having spent an unpleasant, emotional couple of hours saying goodbye to everyone. It was bad enough having to leave all the command crew when they'd only been back together for such a short time, but knowing that they were all relying on her – that the whole bloody quadrant was relying on her, in fact – somehow made it much worse. Still, none of it was as bad as saying goodbye to Ziyal, who'd already heard the news when Kira sought her out, just before she was due to leave; the girl had been so disappointed so often, and here was just one more kick in the teeth for her. She understood, of course; Dukat's daughter would never be any less than fully aware of the unfortunate predicament Cardassia was in. But that didn't make it any easier.

'If you see my father, tell him I miss him,' Ziyal had said, then blinked back tears as Kira hugged her goodbye outside her quarters.

'I will, Ziyal, I promise. I've got to leave now, but I'll be back before you know it.'

Ziyal refrained from saying anything to the contrary, although they both knew it was a barefaced lie. She just stood very straight with Dukat's blue eyes glassy in her sweet, mixed-up face; Kira bit her lip and walked away. If nothing else, she'd come back for Ziyal, because the girl deserved much more than being abandoned by the people she loved and needed. She slowly made her way down to the docking ring again, feeling like she'd been put through a wringer, only to come face to face with Odo. Her insides tensed uncomfortably at the sight of him.

'I came to say goodbye,' he announced, rather unnecessarily, then quickly looked down at the floor. She stood frozen for a second, then shook her head, sighing. No more of this.

'Odo, I'm sorry about what's happened between us. Let's not fight any more.'

'I agree. I just have to accept... how things have turned out.'

She said nothing. Somehow, there was nothing she could say, and she wondered if they'd ever get back to the way they were before – the easy, solid friendship she'd valued and relied on so much. But that was before she knew about his feelings for her; ever since then, the knowledge had oppressed her, making it nearly impossible to feel comfortable around him. Probably the time apart would be good for both of them, and once she came back they'd be able to start over, without all these old spectres and disappointments hanging around.

Assuming she came back at all, that is.

'Well, good luck then,' he muttered gruffly. 'Not that I believe in luck, of course. And I don't believe in your Prophets either, but I'll ask them to look out for you just the same.'

The remark was so quintessentially Odo – the old, grumpy, irascible Odo who didn't have time for feelings and stood for nothing but the truth, the Odo who was the brother she couldn't remember having – that she nearly laughed out loud.

'I'll be sure to give your love to Weyoun if I run into him,' she joked, and the amused quirk of his mouth was a joy to behold. They'd be fine, in the end. Just fine.

'Ah, Major, I'm glad I managed to catch you before you left,' Sisko boomed, hurrying up to her and Odo. He was followed, oddly enough, by Garak, who wore a large backpack and his usual bland smile.

'What's he doing here?' Kira asked suspiciously, indicating the tailor.

'There's been a slight change of plan,' Sisko explained. 'I didn't like the idea of you going on your own, so I spoke to Starfleet Command and asked them to allow you a partner, someone who has some experience with this sort of thing. And who better than Mr Garak?'

'Oh, Captain, you flatter me far too much,' Garak demurred. 'I'm delighted you think I can help, but I'm really only a simple tailor...'

Kira couldn't even find it in her to be surprised; she just rolled her eyes at Odo, who snorted softly under his breath. She'd never been that keen on Garak, who was tricksy and unreliable even by Cardassian standards, and the idea of spending an extended time alone with him on Cardassia, a territory he knew well and she didn't, was not a pleasant one. Still, she should have expected it. Not only was she being sent on some damn fool mission which was bound to fail horribly, but she also had to put up with Garak's snide remarks and innuendo. The only silver lining to this grey, scaly cloud was that he probably did know a lot more about spying than she did. She sure as hell wasn't going to rely on him, but she could at least use him somehow.

'Fine. Whatever,' she snapped. 'But I'm warning you, Simple Tailor Garak, I'm not putting up with any funny business, is that clear?'

'Absolutely, Major,' Garak answered crisply. And then the transport was there, and there was no time for anything except a brief, hard clap on the shoulder from Sisko and another awkward silence between her and Odo, where they both stood there like complete idiots for a few seconds before she thought 'oh, the hell with it' and flung her arms around him, feeling his gelid surface ripple with surprise. His hand tentatively came up and patted her back once or twice, as if he was afraid of hurting her. Then he let go, and the expression on his face was a slightly dazed little smile. She shook her head and got on the transport, Garak following her. She saw Odo watching through the plexiglas on the blast door, still looking shell-shocked. He got smaller and smaller as the transport un-docked, and then he was lost from view. Kira sighed and turned away from the window.

'You know, he'd be a much better choice than Dukat,' Garak remarked, stowing his pack in the corner and sitting down with a sigh. Kira spun round furiously to face him, glaring.

'Alright, Garak, let's get one thing straight,' she snarled. 'I didn't even want you here at all, so I sure as dammit don't want any stupid comments! Unless you've got something to say that relates directly to the mission, you keep your mouth shut or you'll be meeting a sticky end, is that clear?'

'But of course, Major,' Garak answered smoothly, not at all surprised by her outburst. He grinned. 'And may I say, if you keep your tongue that sharp then no Cardassian will be able to resist you, much less see through your disguise. Now, it so happens that I've got a rather interesting suggestion for Iliana Ghemor's back-story. Care to hear it?'

She nodded grudgingly and sat down, looking around the shuttle. It was one of the little Starfleet passenger vehicles with a door between the cockpit and the seating area, which was equipped only with a comm panel, a few chairs and a replicator. Obviously they didn't like their passengers knowing where they were going, so there were no maps, sensors or navigational arrays. A couple of lockers at the back presumably contained weapons and a med-kit, but beyond that, there was very little to suggest this was actually a working ship at all. Garak followed her gaze.

'Makes one feel quite useless, doesn't it?' he said softly. 'Starfleet like to do that, I've noticed.'

Startled at his insight, she stared at him a second, then remembered herself.

'Huh. So are you going to tell me this idea or not?'

Garak smiled benignly and began to tell her his plan, which, she reluctantly admitted, was a clever one, appealing to the Cardassians' love of trickery as well as being conveniently hard to check: Iliana Ghemor, believing she was a Bajoran, joined the Maquis after the Occupation ended and got herself arrested by Starfleet. While going through all the tedious prison counselling and rehabilitation stuff, her Vulcan parole officer accidentally broke through the suppression of her Cardassian memories during a routine corrective mind-meld, and her true identity was restored quite by chance. As soon as all her memories returned and she knew fully who she was, Starfleet threw her back in jail, as the war had begun by then. She played the defection card, expressed her shock and outrage at Cardassia's alliance with the Dominion, and promised to spy for the Federation if they restored her to her original appearance and got her back home.

'Of course, you'll technically be a triple agent,' Garak explained airily. 'Back on Prime you'll obviously tell them you tricked Starfleet into thinking you were their agent, and they'll give you lots of false information to pass back. Starfleet in turn will give you lots of false information. Both sides will also give you access to the real stuff, at least in part, which we can then use to incite rebellion. Still with me?' he asked as Kira shook her head in disbelief.

'I'm never going to pull this off in a million years. They'll know as soon as they look at me.'

'Good job I'm here to help, then, hmm?'

'You were planning this anyway, weren't you?' she asked him. 'Spying on the Dominion, I mean.'

'Me, Major? Spying? Absolutely not,' Garak assured her with a twinkle in his eyes. 'I'm just a – '

'Yeah, yeah, simple tailor, I know. Save it, Garak, you'll find I'm much less gullible than Bashir.'

Aha, she thought as a tiny crack appeared in Garak's smooth mask at the mention of Bashir. She'd often wondered what was between them – the strange lunch appointments, the knowing glances, the little jokes, and of course there was the time they'd spent together in the Dominion prison camp, from which Bashir had come back twice the man he'd been and Garak by contrast had seemed strangely reduced, burnt away somehow. So there was something there. Perhaps she could exploit it somehow, if only to make sure he kept his mouth shut... She suddenly realised she was thinking like a Cardassian, and had to physically stop herself from feeling dirty and contaminated. She couldn't have the luxury of decent thought-patterns now now. Iliana Ghemor thought like that all the time. Use and abuse, manipulate and negotiate. Nothing for free, nothing for its own merits. Everything had an ulterior motive, everything could be bought and sold if the right person paid the right price.

She hated it.

But that was what she was here to change, wasn't it? She was here to teach the Cardassians to listen to the yes. Ironic, really, that it was a Cardassian who first taught her that. She thought about him, because it was time she did. She was still angry with him, and she doubted she'd ever totally stop being angry with him, but the important thing was that it was no longer just anger. It was now mixed up with a lot of other things; surprise, regret, confusion, familiarity, and something as tender and bittersweet as the taste of his skin, which she remembered far too well with a hunger that was beginning to gnaw at her. The night they'd stolen, those few short hours in which she'd finally admitted it all, to herself and to him – it had felt like freedom, made all the more precious and painful because it cost them a whole lot of other freedoms.

Yes. Everything was bought and sold, when the right person paid the right price.

He knew that, he'd always known that. Now, so did she. But that didn't mean she liked it any better. She sighed, turned the other way in her seat and proceeded to ignore Garak for the rest of the trip.