Naprem was gone. No warning, no indication, no opportunity for saying farewells. Jevah only found out when she asked, after hearing nothing from her for several days. Dukat had put her on a transport, the Ravinok, ignoring her protests, and sent her away, presumably for her own safety. Jevah could only hope that she would find a good life wherever she was going.
The mining colony and recolonization projects were canceled. Jevah resumed work in the Life Support Center as a monitor. Skurs was transferred to a position in Operations, overseeing the overall Life Support systems. He did not discuss his work there, but he did not spend evenings on his console any longer; there was full coverage for every shift, so he was not obligated to work after hours.
The tension on the station was palpable; the repair crews were overworked and the Bajorans agitated. It took several days for the ore processing operation to begin work again; the workers treated the hiatus as a holiday while it lasted. The Cardassians were tense and defensive; fights broke out on both sides and the participants were severely punished in a public assembly.
News outside the station was hard to come by, but Jevah heard a few things, heard more from Binna, who still lived in the workers' dormitories. The uprising on Bajor had accelerated; Cardassians everywhere were at risk of attack, even in cities they considered their own. Those who had families had sent them home; those with Bajoran lovers had abandoned them as the military consolidated their positions into their fortress-like administrative centers.
Jevah finally came to believe that the Occupation could be ending.
"A date has been set for us to leave Bajor and the station."
Jevah stared in shock at Skurs' words. She swallowed. It was what she had wanted, what they had all wanted. But now, somehow, she wasn't ready. Her world shivered under her. "How long?"
"Twenty days. Planetary forces are being evacuated now; that will take some time. The station will be emptied last." Skurs turned from her console to the viewport, stared outward. "The Detapa Council has decided to reinforce the existing borders, not spend forces on expanding or holding outside territory."
"You'll be able to go home," she said.
"Yes." He did not turn around.
"Skurs," she said, but he did not move. She joined him at the viewport, slipped an arm around his waist. "What is it?"
"I don't know. Perhaps—this feels like failure."
"Of course it does. There were plans—there were things yet to accomplish. And now they never will be done. But it is not your personal failure."
"It is the failure of my people, my government, those to whom I am loyal."
"Yes. And everyone, people and organizations, makes mistakes."
He turned in her arm, faced her. "Some things were not mistakes." His arms encircled her, pulled her close. "This has been good."
Jevah leaned into him. "It has been good, mostly." She shuddered, and Skurs rubbed warm hands along her back.
"There is always darkness, always light," he said. "One would be worthless without the other."
Jevah arched an arm around his neck and pulled his head down. She could feel his surprise; she did not initiate intimacy between them. But things were different now. She kissed him, felt his body responding to hers, heard his breathing change. His hands were urgent on her back, holding her close, wandering her body, before he held her buttocks and pressed her into his very evident erection. She moaned against his lips, lifted one leg to curl around his thigh. He grasped it, used it to lift her higher, and pressed her against the viewport, pulling her legs around his waist. She curved her pelvis against him, pressing against his hardness, and released his mouth to move her head and bite his earlobe. He twitched, thrust against her, and lowered her almost immediately to start pulling at her clothing. She helped him loosen his garments as he pulled hers off her and lifted her back up, then she wound her legs around his waist again, feeling his hardness just touching her entrance. He was breathing hard now, and started to lower her onto himself. Jevah moved a hand beneath her to guide him, then took a shuddering breath as he thrust into her. She was pressed against the viewport, meeting his movements, her mouth on his neck, licking and biting his neck ridges. He moved harder, faster, and Jevah matched his pace, coming closer and closer to the edge, her breathing ragged.
Skurs slowed, and Jevah gasped. She looked up at him, saw that he was watching her closely. She knew she was flushed, her lips felt swollen, and she tried to pull his head to hers but he resisted, moving slowly against her, maintaining the level of arousal, but not bringing it to completion. "Skurs," she said shakily, "please—" Her words were the key; he moved his mouth to hers and thrust deeply, hard, and she moaned against his lips, her body begging for release. Finally, she climaxed, crying out against his neck, and felt him shuddering in his own release.
They didn't move for several minutes, panting against each other, coming down, energy draining from them like water from a sieve. Skurs lowered Jevah to a standing position and looked down at her. "I will miss this," he said quietly. "I will miss you." He turned away, into the fresher, and Jevah heard the water start running.
Epilog: Five years later
They met at Quark's, one of the tables on the upper level, where those who chose might watch everything below without being observed. Jevah sipped wine; Skurs drank kanar.
"How have you been?" he asked.
"Well enough. I'm still working here on the station, still in Life Support, as the Beta shift Operations supervisor." She sipped her drink. "You?"
"There is a gathering of organizations willing to help rebuild Cardassia," Skurs told her. "I am attending as a representative of the utility planning department."
"Do you have a family?"
"In the planning stages, mostly. I met an Engineering student some years ago; we will be married next year."
Jevah smiled. "Good, I am pleased that you found someone who makes you happy."
"Have you a family? Or someone you are with?"
"Not now. I have had a few relationships but we moved on after a while." She turned her glass around in her hands, studying it carefully.
"I have missed you." Jevah looked up, startled. Skurs was watching her intently. "I did not expect to. I did not expect to miss someone I initially took as a convenience. Nevertheless…" he dropped his eyes.
"I miss the feeling of safety you gave me," Jevah told him quietly. "It was a dangerous world for Bajorans during that time, and you changed that for me, as much as you could." She sighed. "I was content, in a very frightening place. That was—important to me."
The silence stretched; Jevah felt something nostalgic, something infinitely sad and somewhat painful, and looked away before her eyes could betray her.
"My transport leaves soon," Skurs finally said, finishing his drink. He took her hand, brought it to his face, and held her palm against his cheek. "Be well, Jevah." He stood and walked away, moving quickly down the stairs and out of sight. Jevah stared after him, then left her half-empty glass of wine on the table and moved in the other direction, toward her quarters.