Chapter 11

They sat facing each other, ringed by the prayer candles Kira had thoughtfully brought with her. She had considered bringing her Duranya lamp but it was just too difficult to move. However, looking at the effect the candles gave the room now, the small circle of light surrounded by warm shadows, she thought that her choice had been a good one.

The only light in the room was the candles and the dancing shadows that they cast on the wall was faintly disturbing to Dukat. He forced his attention away from them and turned it back to Nerys, who was just lighting the final candle which stood between them. She then sat back and looked across to him.

"Are you ready?"

He slowly nodded, "I suppose."

She grinned, "Don't look so worried. It's not a test." She then reached out her hands. He looked at her outstretched hands and then back up. Hesitantly, he reached out and took them in his own. She closed her eyes and began to hum softly. He couldn't help but stare for a moment. She was so lovely. The candlelight did wonderful things for her, flickering depths and shadows across her countenance and giving her an almost ethereal beauty. He quickly closed his eyes before they and his longing ruminations caused him to want things he had no hope of gaining.

She began the chant and he listened for a moment to catch her rhythm and then fell in with her. As they continued on, he began to feel curiously soothed. The scent of the candles, the calm cadence of their voices and most of all the reassuring feel of Nerys' hands enfolded with his own brought him a peace of mind he hadn't felt in ages. In fact, he wasn't altogether sure he had ever felt this calm and at peace. He had an overwhelming urge to want to thank whatever deities that be for allowing him this moment. He had the uneasy feeling that this peaceful moment would have to last him a long time.

As the last note of the chant died away, Nerys opened her eyes. Dukat sat with his eyes still closed, a look of calm repose on his features. It occurred to her in that moment that he truly was a striking man. Though alien, his face and form were quite pleasing to look at, the candlelight playing over his features. She tried to gently remove her hands from his grip but he stopped her with a slight squeeze.. He slowly opened his eyes and looked at her.

"Is there anything else to this ritual?"

"No, not really. Some people add other prayers or speeches, its really up to the persons performing the ritual. But the chant is sufficient to itself."

"I see," he let go her hands and looked away for a moment, seeming to ponder one of the paintings on a far wall. He then spied the bag she had brought with her. He tilted his head back toward her and then, cocking an eyeridge, gave a speaking look back to her bag.

"Well, major, you've given your gifts and we've said our prayers, what else is there left to do?"

She noted immediately what he was looking at and couldn't help a small, sheepish smile.

"Well, I guess I thought, if all else fails, we could always explore the human method of dealing with grief, at least as per Chief O'Brien."

Both eyeridges now raised.

"And what, pray tell, IS the good chief's suggestion for such a thing?"

Kira rose gracefully from her seated position and went to the bag, removing the bottle of kanar and the other bottle of brandy. With a bottle in each hand, she turned to jiggle them slightly in his direction.

In her best O'Brien interpretation, she stated, "Why, ta drink them away, o' course!"

He started laughing and as he reached for the kanar, she reached into the bag for the glasses.