37.

"We have to do something."

What was she expecting by coming here? Understanding? A thoughtful conversation? Or just another romp on the floor? Kira had the feeling that something was bound to happen, but then she'd had that feeling for weeks, and nothing had. Clearly, her feelings were something she couldn't trust anymore. Like everything else.

"*We* have to do something, major? What do *we* have to do something about, tell me?"

"You know what I mean, Dukat. Do you really think this is the time to be playing one of your little games? This is your daughter we're talking about. I thought you cared about her."

She didn't even see him move. In a second, Dukat was upon her, pushing Kira against the bulkhead without even touching her, just with the sheer force of his fury and disdain.

"You *thought* I loved her? Who are you to question my love for my daughter? Who are you to even speak to me of her? You - you are nothing but a grimy little whore with delusions of grandeur who should have been executed, buried and forgotten years ago."

Kira stood her ground, looking Dukat straight in the eye, concentrating all her energies on keeping her hands from shaking and her face set in an expression of defiance. His mouth was so close, he was leaning in on her, and her knees were starting to get shaky, like they always did. Kira bit her lip so hard she could taste the blood.

"I'm also Ziyal's friend."

After what seemed like hours, but was probably just a few seconds, Dukat stepped away. His face was placid. He knew that Kira was disconcerted by his sudden changes of mood, and he used that, of course he did. He loved to play with her. And didn't she love being played with?

"I know. And you know I have always accepted that. More than accepted, I have welcomed it. I have always encouraged Ziyal to explore her Bajoran roots, and you have been - a great support for her."

"Is that why you wanted her to date Damar? To get closer to her Bajoran roots?"

Dukat smiled.

"You know, I think this conversation has started all wrong. Why don't you sit down, Nerys? Have a glass of wine, relax, make yourself comfortable, and we can talk about whatever you want."

"I'm not here to relax, Dukat."

"And you're sure I can't - convince you?"

"No." She wanted to say not now, not ever again, but she knew better. She had already said that before. More than once.

Dukat sighed and displayed himself theatrically on the sofa.

"All right then, no relaxing. More's the pity. So, as I understand it, there is something about Ziyal that you want to discuss."

That was what he did. Violence mixed up with seduction followed by the appearance of a perfectly ordinary man discussing ordinary matters. What next? Maybe innuendo, subtle threats, followed by an outburst of sincerity. Julian would have said it was nothing but a cheap psycho-game, and Kira knew it. She saw through every one of them. And yet, he had a right to sit there and look at her smugly because his games worked. Every time.

But not today, because today was not about Kira, and it was not about Dukat either. Kira sat on the chair across from the sofa, with the coffee table between them. She thought she saw Dukat smirk, but wasn't he always smirking? Seconds ticked away, threatening to turn into minutes, and still no one was speaking. Part of Kira couldn't believe that he would sit there, pretending he had no idea what she needed to talk about. The other part couldn't believe there was anything about this man that would surprise her.

"She's drinking, Dukat. A lot. She's ruining herself."

"Aren't you being a tad melodramatic? She's young and she has a lot to catch up on, that's all."

"Catch up? Is that what you think is going on here? Have you looked at her lately?"

"Oh yes, I have looked at her very closely, Nerys, and I have known her for a lot longer than you. Her childhood was, well, restless, and then it was over. Her youth was spent in a prisoner camp trying to survive, while other girls her age were meeting boys, learning about the ways of the world, dancing, drinking… She's twenty years old now, and she wants to experience all that she missed. And maybe, since she's conscious of all the time she lost, she wants to experience it a little - faster. Can anyone really blame her for it?"

It sounded reasonable. After all she had been through, who could begrudge Ziyal a couple of wild nights, a fling, several flings? Except it was more than a couple of nights, and she wasn't having flings, she wasn't experimenting. She was stuck in a very bad place.

"That's not what's happening, and you know it. What she's doing is spending night after night in Damar's quarters, drinking herself into oblivion, and day after day in her own quarters, waiting for the next night. She's not going out anymore, she's not seeing anyone else, from what I can tell she's barely eating… That's not experience of life, that's a vicious circle. No matter how much you like Damar, I cannot believe that you approve of this, Dukat."

Dukat got up and walked over to the window.

"I don't."

This was what Kira had tried to steel herself against. His voice got low, his shoulders fell forward very slightly, in a way only someone who knew him really well would notice. He was so good at this, and it was precisely because he wasn't *acting* like was vulnerable. He *was* vulnerable now. Dukat had an ability to open and close himself like a valve whenever he needed to. The trick was that it was real.

Kira had to force herself not to walk up to him, put her hand on his arm, tell him everything was going to be all right.

"Then talk to her. She'll listen to you. And you have to order Damar to stop seeing her."

"Just like that. Talk to Ziyal, talk to Damar, problem solved. Easy as a summer breeze."

"It would be a start."

Dukat turned towards her. Kira knew Dukat better than anyone, she had studied him for a long time, obsessively. She thought about him every day, she knew every wrinkle, every nuance of every movement. But now for the first time she could not read the expression on his face.

"It could also be the end."

"I - I don't understand."

"Nerys, neither you nor I nor anyone can truly know how *damaged* my daughter is. What I said before, her need to experience what was denied to her - that is only the surface. What she is doing is trying to survive, any way she can. Believe me, I know. And for someone like her, surviving can mean something different every day. One day, it means starting an affair with a sleazy traitor like Garak who will carelessly betray her and me and everything we believe in on a simple whim. Another day, it means sustaining a friendship with you, a woman that at this very moment is plotting to overthrow me and dreams every day of killing me while we fuck. And yet another day, it means starting another affair with my dumb blockhead of an aide and poisoning herself with Kanar every night. Or it maybe even mean she needs to maintain a secret correspondence with a Starfleet officer who could very possibly be secretly boarding the station as we speak, no doubt to aid any and all plans of the resistance to retake the station."

"…"

"And if that is what she needs, Nerys, then so. Be. It. I am not her therapist, I am not her husband, I am not even her friend. All I can do is be here to pick up the pieces, and if you really are her friend, if you care about her as much as you say, so will you. And pray very hard to those prophets of yours that one of us survives."

There were tears shining in Dukat's eyes. He blinked, and the drops started to roll down his cheeks, shiny, beautiful, almost too perfect to be real. He took a step towards Kira, holding out his arms, expecting her to fall into them, overwhelmed by emotion, helpless, paralysed by desire and the horrible knowledge that she wanted to believe him.

Didn't she always - fall into his arms?

Kira laughed.

Dukat's arms dropped back to his sides, his eyes narrowed, and the tears in his eyes disappeared as if they had never been there.

"Do you find this amusing, Major?"

"I - I'm sorry. No, it's not amusing. It's very sad, really. It's sad that Ziyal has suffered so much, and is still suffering. It's sad that she has a father like you, who thinks he can win her by letting her destroy herself, who has to possess her by erasing everything she ever was, who thinks that to love means to look the other way, to take the easy way out. And it's sad that she has friends like me, who make her believe that they will be there for her and then disappear in their own miserable tangled lives. I laugh because I'm relieved."

"Oh? And why is that?"

"Because now I'll never have to come here again."

With two long strides he was by her side, then holding her, kissing her neck, running his hand softly along the curve of her breast.

"You said that last night, and here you are."

Kira didn't move, didn't lose her smile.

"Last night was long ago."

He took a step back. He was used to struggle, resistance, then surrender. He was used to gasping, crying, screaming. Indifference and absent smiles, now that *really* had to confuse him.

"Nerys, what is wrong? What did I do?"

He was using his honest face again, and Kira wanted to scream for joy because she didn't need to fight it anymore. It didn't matter anymore if it was a trick or real. It didn't matter that he really didn't know what was wrong, that what he had said about Ziyal was monstrous and unnatural.

It did not concern her anymore.

"I saw you, Dukat, that's what happened. That speech about Ziyal, the one you thought was going to move me so much - that's when I finally saw you, and I thank the prophets for it."

"You've always seen me, Nerys. Just as I am. You know you're the only one…"

"Spare me. I'm not interested. You and me, it's finished, Dukat. Look at me. You know it's true."

"Do you really think it will be so easy?"

"The only way you're going to come near me again is if you force me, and you're not ready to do that, not yet."

"Yet. Interesting choice of words."

"Oh, you'll come for me, I know that. But by then, it won't matter, because everything will be in place, and you will lose."

"I could have you confined to the brig for what you just said."

"You could, but you won't. You love the game too much."

"Almost as much as you."

Kira stood there for a minute longer, wondering if she should say something more. After everything, didn't he deserve at least a gesture, a word of goodbye? Before she could finish her thought, Dukat spoke.

"You can't have her. She's mine."

Kira didn't have to ask who he meant.

"She's no ones. Not yours, not mine, not Damar's." Not even Garak's, she thought, but she didn't say that out loud. "She's her own."

As she was leaving, Kira could still hear him say "Mine. She's mine", and a cold horror crept over her skin and into her heart. This had been the deepest and truest passion in her life, she was sure she was never going to feel anything like it ever again - and one day there would be a reckoning for it. One day.

But before that, there were things to do. Secret meetings, strategies, calculations. The procuring and storing of weapons. Communications. And one very important message to a dead man.