A/N: I'm on a roll! Enjoy, everyone :D

Chapter Eleven: Assigned

2366: Terok Nor

Through the windows, and over the steady thrum of the station's constant engines, she could see so many stars, so many little pinpricks of light, scattered so far away. She was far away, far away from everything that she knew and everyone she loved, and it hurt. But Daphne sighed, knew that it was the here and the now that mattered, that she could control, that she would need.

And now, the party was coming to a close. She couldn't see Selena anymore; she must've been picked up by some Cardassian officer. Perhaps she'd see her tomorrow. Perhaps not. She didn't know; couldn't know.

Here and now. She took a deep breath, finally accepted the kanar that Damar had proffered to her. She brought it up to her lips, felt the sticky substance cling to her tongue, her mouth, and she swallowed it down. It reminded her – and not unpleasantly, she recalled – of that first day, that first night.

She had soon downed it.

Damar smiled. "I don't think I've ever seen a human drink quite so much kanar in one sitting."

"How many humans have you seen?" she asked, not missing a beat. She could also have asked something else. How many humans have you kissed? But she didn't. She wondered if she could feel, could sense, the unpleasantness of jealousy.

He shrugged but still wore the smile. He cast his gaze over to Dukat, who was busy whispering sweet nothings into Miri's ear, her blonde hair cascading down her shoulders, her bright eyes thoughtful.

Daphne didn't want to wonder what she was thinking.

"But you don't think-?" Damar's voice, gruff as ever, brought her back to the present. To the here and now.

"I don't think what?" The kanar was still heavy in her throat, cloying.

"You don't think I asked for this? That I requested for you to be assigned to me?" He didn't falter on the word assigned but he had sought out her gaze.

She bit her lip, tasted the kanar again, though she had long since finished the glass. "Should I think that?"

Damar thought a moment. As he watched her, he saw her beauty and he wasn't about to deny it; he couldn't. But he could see that she was fearful, that she had so many questions that she wanted to ask but that she couldn't ask. Her red lips were parted in thought, and he half-wondered if he would be able to hear her heartbeat.

Soon enough, the noise in the room had died down.

"I wouldn't want you to think that," he said carefully. "This is Dukat's way of, uh, rewarding me for my achievements."

She felt bad. It wasn't those achievements that concerned her, though she knew her people were at war with his people, and that those achievements likely involved the ambushing and attacking of Federation ships in skirmishes that Damar had had a hand in ordering. Instead, her mind lingered on that word rewarding, and she knew what that meant.

"I'm the reward?" she muttered, blowing air through her lips. "You know, it's strange. I don't know whether to feel flattered or horrified."

"I suppose-" he started, weary hand seeking the nape of his neck. "I suppose we – I – haven't really helped matters. I shouldn't have taken an... interest in you."

If he hadn't, she thought ruefully, she may have ended up with Belen or Turak or Mardek. She shivered and yet the room was warm, hot from so many bodies.

"I don't regret it," she whispered, and she hoped – but doubted – that Damar had heard.

Before he could say anything else, Dukat had returned.

"Why, Damar," came the gul's jovial voice. "What are you still doing here?" Then he clapped his hands together, called for everyone to gather around. For a moment, drinks went untouched and everyone was silent.

"It is late, men," he continued. "I'm sure you all appreciate the importance of discipline as well as... enjoyment. And so I must ask you all to leave now."

And then Damar had placed a hand on her arm, his fingers curling lightly against her bare skin. She gasped, looked up at him.

"I'll go with you, if you want," she said. She hadn't whispered it, hadn't hung her head, hadn't looked away. She wasn't ashamed, and she didn't see why she should be.

But he only shook his head. "No. I was going to suggest that we go our separate ways tonight."

She raised an eyebrow. "To clear our heads?"

He shrugged, and she saw no ulterior motive, no lasciviousness, behind his eyes. "If you like."

Then she could not suppress the smile that longed to spread across her lips. She took his hand in both of her hands, caught his gaze, and he knew that it was a look of gratitude. But not of relief.

"You could still walk me to my quarters," she suggested.

"I could," he said. "I will. Besides, Dukat won't have gotten around to sending someone to move your belongings over to, uh, my quarters."

They were standing in the corridor, the station's engines still rumbling underneath them, and Daphne became aware of the silence. She couldn't hear the Bajorans, couldn't hear the Cardassians, couldn't hear the Ferengi bartender as he berated his staff, couldn't hear the Dabo girls.

As she reminded herself, Bajoran days were twenty six hours, and she realised that she was now thankful for those extra hours.

She need to think, to rest, to prepare for what was to come.

They walked silently to Daphne's quarters, through the expanse of the Habitat Ring, and they hadn't seen or heard from Dukat since they had left. Daphne guessed that he was likely engaged with Miri, and she had no desire to found out. It was better left alone, she decided, though it pained her, nearly sickened her, to think that she had abandoned Miri.

But Miri had chosen to go.

How could you choose when there was no choice?

"You okay?"

Damar's gruff question brought her out of her reverie. Ahead, she saw the door to her quarters, the room that she was soon to leave. She glanced up at him, forced a smile.

"Uh, yes, I'm fine."

She didn't need to enter a passcode; comfort women had no such privacy. The door slid open and her quarters, she thought, seemed so much bigger. Her belongings, the few of them that there were, had not been moved yet, and it almost seemed as if she were home, as if she were back on Earth. She thought of that doorway, as she and Damar stepped through it, of how he had lingered, while she had... waited for him.

She had. She had waited for him.

"You seem quiet."

It was small talk, she knew that, and yet sometimes, you wanted small talk. "Uh - sorry. I guess I've got a lot on my mind."

You can say that again, he thought.

"Remind me never to book a holiday to Hyacinthus V," she said ruefully, plonking herself down on the sofa.

He caught her eye, saw that hint of humour. "I will." A pause. He was still in the doorway. "But, Daphne, I wouldn't want you to think that all Cardassians are-"

She watched as he stumbled over his words, ultimately deciding that she would put him out of his misery. "Are like Legate Mardek? Or Gul Dukat?" She braced herself, realised that she had overstepped the mark.

"I've got no qualms about your mention of Mardek. He's always been a piece of work. But, Daphne, you ought to watch how you speak of Dukat."

"Because he's your superior?"

"Because he's my superior and because he's my friend."

Another pause.

"I suppose I'll see you tomorrow?"

He raised an eye ridge, slightly confused by her changing the subject. "Uh - yes."

"Then I'll see you tomorrow."

He took one last look at her, wondered how much of her confidence, how much of her beauty, was a mask, and wondered how he would go about uncovering it, discovering it.

She watched as he left.

She's beautiful, Damar. She's yours. She could still hear Dukat speaking those words, and she could also still feel the sickness that was rising in her stomach. Not because she resented being likened to an object, something to be passed around. No. Because she resented herself for wanting to be with Damar.

But that's what it was. Want. Desire. And certainly not love, as she reminded herself. They had kissed, she and Damar, and she had been unsure, lonely, in need of attention and somewhere safe to be.

She was tired. She crossed over to the bathing quarters, slid out of the dress and threw it on the floor. Then she stepped into the sonic shower, closed her eyes; she didn't know how long she was in there for.

Her skin felt tight, puckered, when she got out, and the mirror had steamed up. She sighed, rubbed at it with the back of her hand, and in the steaminess, she could see herself, face flushed, eyes tired and wanting.

Then she wrapped a towel around herself, picked up her discarded dress. Then she did something she hadn't expected to do – she shoved the dress into the replicator and watched as it shimmered away into nothingness. She needed a taste of home, something to remind her of where she was, and she typed in the designs – as far as she could remember – of a pair of jeans. Then she added a camisole to her order. And that was that.

She lay them out, and it was almost as if she were back on Earth. Choosing out an outfit. Something comfy and homely. Something comforting.

Then she dressed in the clothes that she had been treating as pyjamas, and curled up on the bed, and she fell asleep sooner than she thought she would.

She dreamt of green fields and verdant trees and flowers blowing gently in the wind. And when she woke, with a start, at 0600 hours, a glance out of the window showed her that she was worlds away from such greenery, and that she was exposed in the vacuum of space.

She sat up, changed into her chosen outfit, and it wasn't long before Belen was standing at the door, beckoning her to go with him, to move in with Damar.