Chapter Twelve: Crushed

Chris blinks. He isn't sure how long he's been staring at the spot where Kira disappeared below the turbolift platform, but it was long enough for an empty one to come and take its place.

The wounded have left with Julian to finish treatment of their injuries in the infirmary. Only a handful of Starfleet and Bajoran personnel remain in Ops, and only a room full of debris remains where Kira's office used to be.

Chris looks around his feet. Bits of wood and leather mingle with futuristic shrapnel.

Alone with a pile of rubble. Almost feels like home.

Chris scoffs at himself.

Looking more closely, Chris spots the corner of a picture. Moving the broken panel above it, he finds himself looking upon an image of Kira and Odo. The smiles on their faces push him further into a lonely corner of his mind.

Dammit. Why do I do this to myself?

Chris thinks back to his mood in the morning—before being stopped by the Bajoran priest. His heart had been filled with foolish hopes that his new life might include Kira Nerys as more than just some tour guide appointed by the Prophets.

"Who the hell was I kidding?"

Chris warps his upper lip in a sneer of self-loathing as he angrily shoves debris around with his foot. He is disgusted by his own naivety.

"Sir?" a voice behind Chris interrupts his thoughts. "I need you to step out; we need to begin our investigation."

Without turning to face the man who spoke, Chris nods and points to the floor. "She'll want that photo salvaged."

Chris steps out of the office and two men in clean-suits make their way in with their equipment. He surveys Ops one more time, searching for a familiar face. Finding none, he makes his way to the turbolift.

While Chris' trip from Quark's to Ops had been a frantic dash to see Kira after the explosion, his return is a sulking meander. He continues to berate himself, paying no attention to the station which amazed and fascinated him only an hour before.

After seeing his new body this morning, and Kira's smile at his silly posing, Chris had convinced himself that his centuries with the Prophets was like aging to perfection in a celestial wine cellar. Now he feels like ancient parchment that crumbles with every step.

Wandering back to Quark's bar, Chris trudges in and takes a seat.

"Where have you been?!" Quark says as he rushes over. "Is everyone OK up there? You don't look like everyone's OK."

Chris chews his lip and nods. "I believe the casualties were just chairs, a desk, and a baseball."

"Sisko's baseball?"

"Seriously?" Chris glances up from his defeated slouch. "You're worried about the damn ball?"

"If everyone's OK what should I be worried about?" Quark leans back from the counter to better assess Chris' posture and expression. "Ohhh, I see now. I don't care what you said yesterday, you're hooked."

Chris nods slowly as he stares at the counter.

"Didn't quite get the hero's welcome you were hoping for, did you."

Chris' nod gives way to a shake.

Quark shakes his head. "Only one thing to do now…" He ducks down to retrieve a bottle and two glasses. He pours them half-full of something green then raises one for a toast. "To the one thing men can always count on: heartbreak."

"Wow, Quark. You really know how to cheer a man up." Chris' sarcasm is thick.

"I don't do cheer," Quark speaks flatly. "This is about harsh reality." The Ferengi throws his glass back and consumes the contents in one gulp. "If it's cheer you want, you'll have to talk to that Vic fellow everyone swoons over."

Chris eyes the glass in front of him. "No, Quark; you're right. This is about harsh reality." He lifts his glass and copies Quark's actions. His face immediately sours. "Holy… this stuff is horrible."

Quark stares blankly at the Dabo table, lost in thoughts of failed business ventures past. "Harsh reality doesn't deserve the good stuff... unless you're buying."

As Chris hunches over and stares at his empty glass, he considers how easily reality can fracture and distort. Jumble thoughts, memories, and emotions enough and it's easy to believe almost anything if you want it badly enough. The distorted images of the bar beyond the multi-faceted glass are replaced with several reflections of his own brooding face as Quark refills it.

"Wanna know another harsh reality, Quark?" Chris begins as he raises the glass of foul liquid. "Whoever tried to kill her is still out there. Regardless of how she feels about me, she's in danger. And like it or not, I still care."

Chris empties his glass with another disgusted face.

Quark shakes his head. "I thought you knew all about these people. You know Kira can take care of herself. Now that they've stuck their necks out, you should feel sorry for them."

"I know she can take care of herself," Chris says as he sets his glass down, "but will that count for anything if a traitor in a security uniform gets the drop on her?"

Quark's smug grin fades and he shakes his head slowly. "You know who they are?"

"I found out about the bomb from a vision the orb gave me," Chris nods. "Kira knows about the Andorian, but I'm the only one who can identify the officer."

Quark leans on the bar to speak to Chris more directly. "You're starting to sound dangerously like wanting to get involved in this mess. You'd get yourself killed—and for what? You know she'll never care for anyone but Odo."

"I don't get it, Quark. Why does she act like he'll come back any minute? In the memories the Prophets gave me, it seemed like he was going to be gone for, well… forever."

"The odds of him coming back are pretty slim—not that there's a wager on it."

Chris rolls his eyes and lets out a sigh. "It doesn't matter; she hates me."

"Granted, she wasn't the happiest with you yesterday, but… you saved her life. That's gotta be worth som…"

Chris looks up meekly. "I tried to kiss her."

"You what?!"

"OK, I didn't really try… but I wanted to. She could tell."

Quark puts a hand on his forehead. "Oh boy."

"I messed up."

Quark nods in agreement.

"If not for the Prophets, she'd have nothing to do with me. She may not—even with that. But… I have to get involved—or at least try. I care what happens to her. I just hope she'll let me stay close enough to be able to say 'hey, that's the bad guy'. Happy ending, right?"

Quark shakes his head. "It's never that simple. Situations like this… people get hurt."

Chris thinks about his past life. Overweight techies weren't exactly known for heroism outside of video games. He's never been in a fight; he's never held a gun. As Quark predicts, Chris could very well get himself killed if he puts himself anywhere near a dangerous situation. Chris has heard a saying that there's a fine line between brave and stupid, and he's pretty sure what he's about to throw himself into is unquestionably stupid.

"So, Quark. Have you got a holosuite program that can show me how to use a phaser?"

Quark stops wiping the bar and does a double-take at Chris. "You're serious."

Chris shrugs. "You're right; I don't know what could happen. But I'm going to do whatever I can to help. It might not hurt to know how to use one—just in case."

Quark drops his rag and rolls his eyes. "It's your funeral."

As Chris follows Quark to a vacant holosuite, he tries to recall all the times he's seen them used: a baseball game, combat training, spy stories… He has no idea how holosuites work, so he's anxious about how real or disorienting it may be. Chris hesitates in the doorway.

"You're the one that wanted to do this," Quark says from inside. "Are you coming in or not?"

"I've just… never been in one of these before."

"But your memories…"

"I know, I know. I'm just nervous."

"If you're nervous about the holosuite," Quark rolls his eyes, "I can't wait to see you try to handle a phaser."

Chris finally steps inside and the door closes behind him. Quark presses some buttons on a small device and their surroundings suddenly change.

"Whoa!" Chris exclaims. He throws his arms out for balance as the new, larger space disorients him.

Quark laughs. "Oh… the look on your face! Please tell me before you try a transporter—I want to sell tickets."

"This isn't funny," Chris scoffs.

"It most certainly is," Quark chuckles.

Chris' equilibrium recovers and he surveys their location. They're in the demonstration range that Quark used in an episode where his cousin persuaded him to work with an arms dealer. The room is full of large, fantastic weapons.

"Shit, Quark. I said a phaser, not heavy artillery."

"Hold on, hold on," Quark mutters and presses more buttons. "There; better?"

The display of impressive weaponry is replaced by a single table of small arms. Chris recognizes a Federation and Bajoran phaser as he approaches it. Some of the other weapons look familiar, but the majority look completely foreign.

"Where do you want to start?" Quark asks.

Chris plucks the Bajoran weapon from the table, but Quark quickly yanks it out of his hand.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!" Quark yells as he smacks Chris' hand. "Point, not grab! Are you trying to kill me?!"

"But this is a holosuite, Quark! There are safeties, right?"

Quark's expression makes it clear that the sight of Chris grabbing a weapon made him forget the fact. He tries to play it off. "Safety… cannot be stressed enough. Treat every holosuite as if the safeties are disabled," Quark says as he recklessly shakes the phaser at Chris.

Chris rolls his eyes and snatches the weapon back from Quark. He's completely lost as he looks over the controls.

"Now… that thing on the side is the safety—I think," Quark begins. "The two buttons on top change the power setting, and…" He cocks his head to the side. "Or is that dispersion?"

Chris groans in frustration.

I am so getting myself killed.

Chris points the weapon towards the open end of the demonstration range. "Just give me something to shoot."

A moment later, Vic Fontaine appears in front of Chris.

Chris is shocked. "You use Vic as a target?!"

"That wasn't me!" Quark exclaims, glancing between his control device and Vic.

"Hey, pally," Vic says to Chris. "I just had to step in. You're way outta your league—with these thugs and with the girl."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Vic," Chris says with heavy sarcasm. "I thought you were supposed to be inspirational."

"Look, pal, Nerys is one tough broad. A loose cannon like you won't help anything 'cept gettin' someone killed—namely yourself."

"I know it's risky; I don't want to hear it. And the last thing I need is a sappy song, so don't even…"

"Sappy? You've got some nerve, pal." Vic appears flustered. "You may not wanna hear it, but you're gonna listen. Nog told me what he's heard: that you've got a thing for Nerys—and that she's not having it. You're hurt; I get that. But don't let it blind you into going off and doing something that'll only get you or someone else killed."

"Wait; you mentioned 'thugs'. You're a holosuite program. How do you know what's going on?"

"My pal Nog tells me everything. And ever since they started leaving my program running 24/7, I read station reports to pass the time."

Vic unfolds a newspaper he's been holding to show the headline: "Explosion Rocks the Colonel's Socks!"

Chris rolls his eyes.

"A bomb?" Vic says. "Sounds like we're dealing with some dangerous fellas."

"I don't know what you learned from Nog, or your newspaper there, but Kira's after these 'fellas' because they're out to kill Odo. I fully understand how serious this is."

Vic puts a hand on his forehead and widens his eyes. "My good pal Odo? You know, I had to work real hard to get those two to see what was right in front of their noses. Those two got somethin' special."

Chris slacks his shoulders and closes his eyes.

Vic picks up on the reaction. "Oh, this is deep. You know about them, and you're still in here practicing to play hero? Nerys is one broad that doesn't need saving, and her heart's already spoken for."

Chris' response is to return to the table and stare at the weapons intensely. Vic looks to Quark for some indication of Chris' sanity. Quark shrugs.

"Pally… you're doing the wrong thing for the wrong reason."

Chris smacks the table with his fist. "Well I'm sure as hell not going to stand by and do nothing!"

Vic and Quark both jump as Chris' outburst echoes through the chamber.

"Look," Chris says, lowering his voice, "I'm not trying to be a hero, but I'm the only one who's seen one of the 'fellas' that's trying to hurt Nerys. I know she loves Odo; I get it. But if she gets hurt because one of these things is lying around and I don't know how to use it… I will never, never forgive myself."

There's an awkward silence as everyone in the room begins to fully understand each other.

Vic approaches the table, pointing. "Well in that case, pally, you need to pay close attention to this little number here."

"There's no safety on the Klingon ones," Quark adds, "so be careful with those."