Tyr lay back on his bed and blew out a stream of air. "A universe of people just like Dylan," he lamented. "If the Magog was right and there is a Divine, it must delight in torturing me."
"Speaking of Dylan," Freya prompted, "how do you want to - handle things after this?"
"How did he get involved in this matter?"
"I have the impression Olma - the Olma of your universe - enlisted Dylan's aid. We should…be grateful."
Tyr just looked at her.
Freya half-smiled. "I did grow fond of them, Tyr, and I still think of them fondly."
Tyr smiled. "As do I." He studied the look on her face, then relaxed. "All right, then. We will do what is appropriate. A…final resolution of our differences could wait for another time."
Freya grinned. "I agree."
"All the same, Freya, how did this happen? What did you not tell Captain Sisko?"
"Tyr…"
"You shouldn't hide anything from-"
"Tyr!" Freya snapped, then softened: "From the first moment I first saw you, all I wanted was to be your wife, bear your children, and help you pursue your ambitions. I…I don't care what's brought us back together. As long as I am by your side, nothing else matters."
"If it's really you."
She kissed him. "Does that erase your doubts?" Freya asked. "Or will you need a further demonstration?"
"I don't think good Captain Sisko will permit us that much privacy. But in any event…" He trailed off and thought. Then smiled. "No, you're right. I will accept what has been given….for now."
"That's all I ask, husband."