Chapter Two: Scared of the Light

White. All Chris can see is white. He blinks rapidly and rubs his eyes in a vain effort to see anything but bright, glowing white.

What the hell just happened?

Disoriented and confused, Chris strains to recall what he was doing before being immersed in this disturbingly surreal environment. His left eye twitches as he vaguely remembers the roar of another car's engine on his way to Phil's diner.

Was I in an accident? Is this a hospital?

Chris sees no gurney, no doctors in white coats, no… anything. He stands alone in a sea of white, wearing exactly what he was while in the car. The visual spectacle surrounding him, or more accurately: the lack of one, is very unnerving. It is also perfectly quiet.

This is messed up!

Chris stands, dumbfounded, for several moments before complete silence is broken by a faint and foreign sound. The rustling of his winter coat is almost deafening as he spins to seek the source.

"Hello?! Is someone there?!" Chris calls out.

There's no answer. Chris finds nothing to account for the sound—only endless white. The bright void is more terrifying than pitch darkness because at least the dark would explain not being able to find the cause of the strange noise. Nothing reveals itself in the colorless expanse. As suddenly as it began, the sound fades.

The hell was that? Why can't I see anything?

Doubting his own senses, Chris holds a hand in front of his face to ensure he can see at all. After staring at his brightly-illuminated digits, he extends his arm out before him. He looks to his feet to hunt for the shadow.

What the hell?

The surface below Chris' feet is indistinguishable from the space around him. Not even a hint of a shadow extends beyond his dark winter hikers. Lifting a foot to expand his search only serves to trigger a spell of vertigo when only more white is revealed. He feels a slight start when his boot reconnects with a solid, yet invisible floor.

The strange sound returns. This time, it persists. It reminds Chris of a soft wind through fine leaves. There's a hint of a high-pitched resonance, like a small wind chime in chorus with the faint rustling. Chris looks around feverishly, beginning to panic as the subtle sound from an invisible source gets louder. Unable to determine the source, he has no idea which way to go to avoid its approach.

As his heartrate crescendos, Chris feels a sharp pain in his chest. He presses a hand against the breast pocket of his heavy coat.

Shit. This isn't…

Chris' thoughts fall silent as he begins to feel dizzy. The white surrounding him darkens to gray. He falters on his feet and the gray fades to black. Suddenly… there's nothing.

Benjamin Sisko stands alone in the Celestial Temple. The home of Bajor's Prophets is now his own.

The Pah-wraiths are now contained within the Fire Caves of Bajor. Gul Dukat is facing untold horrors for failing to secure their freedom and the Book of the Kosst Amojan, the key which nearly set them free, has been destroyed. The price for this triumphant trifecta, Benjamin must abandon a mortal life among the linear beings he loves.

Benjamin just finished saying goodbye to his wife, Kasidy Yates—the mother of his unborn child. He did his best to reassure her that he'd return to her one day but, although he expressed wonder in the fact that it could be 'yesterday' given the nature of his new existence, he truly has no idea when he'll see her again.

Benjamin slowly closes the hand Kasidy held as he stares at the place where her avatar stood—her consciousness now back with Jake and the others on Deep Space Nine. As he takes a deep breath and sighs, Sarah Sisko appears near the edge of his peripheral vision.

"Mother." Benjamin's weak smile at her arrival is tainted by the sorrow of his heartfelt goodbye. "I'm going to miss them."

"I know," Sarah says as she approaches to rest a hand on Benjamin's shoulder. "But you are free of your linear existence now. I can teach you how to visit them at any point in theirs."

"I know, but… I can't share it with them."

"No," Sarah shakes her head slowly. "You cannot."

"A linear life is all I've known," Benjamin sighs. "It's going to take… time." The word suddenly feels peculiar. "At least… it's good to know they're safe."

Sarah nods subtly. "And now your place is among us." She unfolds Benjamin's hand and holds it in her own. Her smile falters.

Benjamin catches the uncertainty of her expression. "What's wrong?"

Sarah dips her head slightly to one side. "This existence… was not always your fate."

"The Dominion fleet," Sisko closes his eyes as he recalls challenging the Prophets to 'be gods' or watch him lead a suicidal charge within the wormhole. The Prophets told him that a 'penance must be exacted'. "I pushed too hard."

"You did what you did for Bajor—to an extent."

"For the entire quadrant," Benjamin clarifies defensively. "And yes, I did it for Bajor too."

Sarah nods. "I'd hoped you'd be allowed to continue your linear existence there."

"So did I," Benjamin looks away and frowns.

A long silence follows as the pair ponder regret. Sarah places a hand on Benjamin's arm and gives it a comforting squeeze.

"I'd do the same… if I had it to do over again." Benjamin's words serve more to absolve Sarah of guilt than reaffirm his decision.

"I know you would," Sarah says as she embraces her son. "And… you may find it hard to believe after leaving so many behind, but I know you'll find happiness again."

"Sarah?" Benjamin speaks her name with sudden curiosity. "There's something that's been bothering me about… time."

"What, my son?"

"When I first visited the Celestial Temple, you didn't know who I was. You didn't even understand linear time, but… just now… you hinted at my future and… you've manipulated the past to bring me here."

Sarah smiles knowingly. "You've clung to the belief that all of 'us' know each other's thoughts."

"Not exactly, but…"

"Even now, many of our kind are ignorant to the flow of linear events."

"But time means nothing here," Benjamin says as he squints at his mother. "The knowledge of even a few should propagate eventually and thus… already. Would it not?"

Sarah shakes her head. "You over-estimate the power of timelessness to overcome disinterest."

"Other Prophets have no concept of linear time because they simply don't care?"

Sarah shrugs. "We aren't bound by a linear existence."

"So why…?" Benjamin starts.

"Because it is the nature of the void that separates us from the Pah-wraiths."

Benjamin's eyes widen briefly. "You certainly care about them."

"Yes, but only some of us are tasked with protecting our kind from their efforts. We have no choice but to involve ourselves in linear events as the outcasts often compel linear beings to assist them. Our approach in securing our safety is… not dissimilar." Sarah smiles at her son.

Benjamin raises an eyebrow at the implication. "I wouldn't say I was 'compelled'."

"No?"

Sarah gently places her hand against Benjamin's cheek. He immediately recalls shattering an ancient Bajoran tablet against a wall in Deep Space Nine's science lab that released a Prophet and Pah-wraith to initiate The Reckoning.

"I see," Benjamin says as he places a hand over his mother's.

"Most of our kind are completely disinterested in the affairs of linear beings. But they do recognize our influence."

"That's why they call me 'The Sisko'," Benjamin smirks. "I must have your eyes."

Sarah rolls her eyes. "They recognize… purpose."

"Purpose?"

"You've always been, to a small extent, nonlinear yourself. The others recognize that. They see, and appreciate, your purpose. But… they did not appreciate your wielding of authority during your confrontation in the temple. That is why you are here."

"But…"

"I know," Sarah interrupts. "Bajor was threatened. But as the threat was not from the Pah-wraiths…"

"They saw it as insignificant."

"Until your conviction convinced them otherwise," Sarah grins.

Benjamin scoffs lightly at the memory, but Sarah's words bring him back to his original question. "You did more than just compel me from time to time; you became my mother."

Sarah nods. "The Pah-wraiths are rash and opportunistic, whereas we…"

"…set things in motion decades ago," Benjamin attempts to finish her sentence. "That's a great deal of patience."

"It would be more accurate to consider us… meticulous. The nature of our existence doesn't require patience. And from your perspective, we began altering events centuries ago."

"Centuries?" Benjamin is surprised by the statement. "Why?"

"We knew the Pah-wraiths would repeatedly try to counter our efforts. Setting things in motion long ago allowed our planning to be more… robust. You see, we could not simply go back again once our efforts collided with those of the Pah-wraiths—that is the nature of our conflict."

"A paradox."

"Call it what you wish, but starting further in the past meant fewer adjustments would be necessary to account for their interference. It gave us more opportunity to compensate."

"Adjustments? Compensation?" Benjamin is puzzled. "What exactly do you mean?"

"Changing what beings are where, and when, to reduce the opportunities the Pah-wraiths had to move against us. Sometimes… beings were removed completely."

Benjamin's eyes widen. "You're talking about 'adjusting' lives—and ending them."

Sarah nods. "Altering the paths of linear beings and… yes, some paths were brought to an end—like the crews of the ships you faced."

Benjamin feels sick to his stomach at the countless lives that've been altered and ended to steer his fate.

Sarah furrows her brow. "My son… from your perspective, linear time is as it was always intended to be. Do not…"

"But it's not," Benjamin says shortly. "I'm sorry, but now that I know, it's… it's hard not to feel responsible."

Sarah sighs. "I understand how you feel, but in time you will learn how fluid time is and how inconsequential linear events, and even lives, can be. Every alteration in linear time creates changes after it—some you would find truly wondrous."

Benjamin rubs his jaw and shakes his head at the notion that he will ever consider any life inconsequential. At Sarah's unflinching expression, he tries to imagine the enormous scale of what's been done to manipulate his fate. Another memory surfaces.

"What about the poet?" he asks of Akorem Laan, who temporarily assumed the role of Emissary when Benjamin doubted his purpose. "He was mortally wounded when you found him in the wormhole, yet when I asked that you send him back to his time…"

Sarah looks to the ground.

"What?" Benjamin asks at her reaction. "Tell me."

"A lot of… 'adjustments' were made to grant your request without altering your path."

"I sent him back at the cost of…?"

Sarah shakes her head. "You can't measure the consequence in lives. Where some never were, others came to be."

Benjamin sighs. "Now I feel directly responsible."

"Son, not every alteration meant the ending of lives. Often our efforts had no impact on existing lives at all—only those that had not yet come to be. Sometimes linear beings were simply… borrowed to prevent or delay the inev…"

"What, mother?" Benjamin asks after Sarah trails off.

"One borrowed life… ended here."

"Like the poet if I hadn't asked that he be returned?"

"No. The poet, as you call him, was of Bajor. He had purpose. We would have cared for him—welcomed him among us."

"He didn't just happen upon the wormhole by chance, did he. You brought Akorem here."

Sarah nods.

"And this other life? The one that ended?"

"It was of no consequence to us," Sarah shrugs.

Benjamin grunts in frustration. "Why tell me this? Why place another lost life on my conscience?"

"Not lost; it…" Sarah shrugs, "remains."

Benjamin blinks. "I don't follow."

"I can show you."

Benjamin and his mother are suddenly looking upon a human man in heavy clothing. He is frozen with an expression of pain and panic.

Benjamin is bothered by the sight. "What happened here?"

"This being was in the way of another, so we borrowed it from its linear existence. When we brought it here, it simply… stopped."

"In the way? And what do you mean by stopped?"

In answer, Sarah takes Benjamin's hand and closes her eyes.

The two appear on a street corner. Benjamin recognizes the distinct cues of Earth. They've arrived either during a cold season or in a cold climate, but the time period is obviously well before his lifetime. There's no longer any question to Sarah's claim that his fate was set in motion centuries ago.

A harsh sound draws Benjamin's attention to a nearby vehicle. A small one ahead of it pulls forward into the intersection. Suddenly, a dark-colored vehicle erupts from between the buildings of a side street. As Benjamin braces himself for what is sure to be a forceful impact, the small vehicle simply vanishes. The dark vehicle continues, weaving down the street.

Sarah points to the erratic vehicle. "This life would have ended. We needed it to continue. The other was irrelevant. We would have returned it, but…"

Their surroundings change again and Benjamin sees the same heavily-clothed man from before—awash in the bright white of the Celestial Temple. A wispy form of energy approaches the 'borrowed' man. Benjamin recognizes the barely perceptible cloud of energy as a Prophet in its natural state.

"Hello?! Is someone there?!" the man calls out.

The man is petrified as he searches his surroundings. He grips his chest as his breathing quickens before coming to an abrupt halt—cardiac arrest. He is now frozen in the same pose as when Benjamin first encountered him. It seems that any linear being that dies in the Celestial Temple falls into some sort of stasis.

"Why didn't the Prophet appear to him as you first did to me—as someone familiar?" Benjamin asks, showing distress at looking upon the lifeless man.

"We had no intention of making contact," Sarah answers. "We were preparing to send it back."

Benjamin speaks without turning from the frozen man. "You could've healed him and sent him back regardless. Why not?"

When no answer follows, Benjamin turns to find an expression of indifference that disturbs him. "I assume sending him back now would require more 'adjustments' than with the poet's return?"

Sarah nods slowly.

"Dammit." Benjamin rubs his forehead with frustration and stares at the man intently.

"Since this life matters to you…"

"Of course it…" Benjamin stops himself after a curious glance from Sarah reminds him of the countless Dominion lives that obviously didn't.

"This being could be sent to a time after your arrival here," Sarah suggests softly. "No adjustments would be necessary."

"You don't seem very confident," Benjamin observes. "Is there a catch?"

"We act out of necessity, not out of desire. He may draw attention."

"Of course he will," Benjamin scoffs. "People will see a man the Prophets brought from centuries in the pa…" He hesitates. "You meant from the Pah-wraiths."

Sarah nods. "The few that remain outside the fire caves… will observe him. They will try to determine his purpose."

"He doesn't have a purpose."

"Not one that you foresee," Sarah says cautiously. "That could change."

"Then I'll just have to keep an eye on him," Benjamin sighs and raises an eyebrow.

Sarah smiles in approval.

"And…" Benjamin begins as he rubs his hands together. "I can't think of any place better than with the others I'd like to keep an eye on. I think it's time to meet this man."

Sarah nods and turns to the frozen man.

Chris opens his eyes. White again. Pure, empty white. He rubs his chest, prompted by lingering pain.

Damn that hurt.

Chris scans the empty void. The sound from earlier is gone.

"Hello?!" Chris calls out.

There is no response, not even an echo.

Two strangers, a man and a woman, suddenly blink into existence before Chris. The start causes the pain from earlier to return with incredible intensity. There is no crescendo of his heartrate this time—it simply stops.

The dark-skinned faces are quickly consumed by the darkness of his fading vision. Faint shapes are soon replaced by nothingness.

Watching the man experience a second heart failure disturbs Benjamin. The human visage is frozen again, but now a hint of confusion joins the predominant pain and terror. Benjamin rolls his eyes in frustration as he realizes this won't be as simple as he'd hoped.

"Its form is defective," Sarah observes. "Is it not best to leave it be?"

Benjamin shakes his head. "I'm the reason he's here. This man deserves to live, and you should know I don't give up that easily." Benjamin strokes his goatee and stares at the man's terrified expression. "It's his heart that failed. Can you fix his heart?"

Sarah cocks her head, perplexed.

Benjamin starts to wonder just how much the Prophets know about human physiology. Though the Bajorans worship the Prophets as gods, perhaps they're not quite omniscient. He also notes that Sarah has been often been referring to the man as 'it'. Beings not 'of Bajor' must not be held in the same regard.

"You healed the poet, surely you can heal this man," Benjamin points to the terrified statue before them.

Sarah nods at Benjamin's simplified request and turns toward the frozen form.

The man's heavy clothing vanishes, surprising Benjamin and prompting him to avert his eyes. Even in the worst Starfleet medical facility, you're offered the dignity of a robe or gown. Decency must be another concept foreign to the Prophets.

Benjamin watches Sarah stare intently at the now bare form—subtle flashes of light emanate from deep within her eyes. He turns back to the man to witness various internal and external tissues glowing and flashing in rapid succession. Veins, arteries, bones, muscles… and other organs in turn. The man's girth had been shrouded by his heavy clothing, but it's now obvious that this man is significantly overweight.

Benjamin recalls an interesting side note from studying his favorite sport's history. Baseball fans, a decent sample of the general population, saw a significant increase in obesity in the late 20th and early 21st centuries. One didn't have to look further than a concession stand to see the concurrent increase in food consumption and degradation of nutritional quality. It's well known that excessive body mass correlates to an increased risk of heart disease, surely even in this man's time. Knowing this, Benjamin is not surprised when Sarah's efforts cause the man's overall physical appearance to change.

Benjamin's eyes shift between Sarah and her patient in wonder as he rapidly starts to resemble a more typical 24th century male. Eventually, the man's glowing tissues and Sarah's flashing eyes cease their dramatic display.

Sarah turns to Benjamin expectantly. "There were many flaws. I know you were displeased with making adjustments, but..."

With the concealing light show over, Benjamin steals but a quick glance at the man. "No… that's… I'm sure that's fine."

Sarah smiles with satisfaction. "Shall I revive him again?"

"Please."

Chris is surrounded by white again. The pain in his chest is gone, but his attention is stolen by something new.

Damn it's cold.

Before Chris can investigate the cause of his shivering, the man and woman from before pop into existence directly in front of him.

"Holy shit!" Chris yells in surprise

Chris stumbles backwards from the pair and falls in his panic. His breathing races out of control. He feels lightheaded and the faces blur. Once again, nothingness consumes him.

Sarah looks upon the collapsed form with confusion. "I am sorry, my son. I don't understand. I repaired everything I…"

Benjamin observes more closely and smiles. "I believe you did plenty. This time was different." He sees the man's chest rise and fall. "He fainted."

"Fainted?"

"It's like sleep." Benjamin reconsiders his analogy. "Without linear time, you… we, don't sleep. Never mind. He's alive, but the Celestial Temple must be too much for him to accept."

Benjamin sighs heavily.

If this man passed out within ten seconds in the Celestial Temple, what'll happen when he's thrust onto a 24th century space station?

After some thought, Benjamin remembers when Grand Nagus Zek emerged from the wormhole and re-wrote the Rules of Acquisition. His brow lifts as an idea strikes him.

"Sarah, there was a Ferengi who entered the wormhole with an orb. He came out changed—of a different mind. How did that happen? Can you change memories… or add them?"

Sarah considers the concept and nods. "The linear being in possession of the orb wanted knowledge beyond his time. We denied him that wish, but what you ask is possible."

"I have an idea, but I have some research to do. I'm going to need some time to think this through."

"Time?" Sarah smiles.

"I have all the time I need." Benjamin smiles back at her, realizing he's no longer bound by time. "And when we wake him next, can we greet him as someone familiar?"

"You cannot, but I can."

"Thank you," Benjamin smiles. "I'll get to work. And… when you deliver him to the station… can you make sure he's… covered?"

"Of course," Sarah nods.

Chris opens his eyes to the collection of starships hanging from his apartment ceiling. Like a bad dream where you find yourself in a public place with no clothes, he finds himself naked on his couch.

"How are you feeling?" Mike asks from the recliner.

"Dude!" Chris is startled by Mike's presence and quickly pulls a bulky afghan from the back of the couch. "What the hell!"

Mike stares blankly at Chris and repeats his question. "How do you feel?"

"Totally creeped out is how I feel! What's the deal, man?!"

"You're being sent to a new home."

"What are you talking about?! Is this some practical joke?! If there's a freaking camera somewhere, you're dead!"

"You will not return to this place," Mike calmly gestures to the surrounding apartment.

Chris looks around for anyone else from the office that's in on the joke.

Mike continues: "We've done all we can to prepare you."

"Huh? What are you talking about?"

As Mike stares at him, Chris is overcome by a bizarre sensation. He can't decide if it's like falling asleep, or more like waking up. His eyelids get heavy and the image of Mike drifts away as the apartment around him darkens and fades.