Author's note: A little behind schedule with my posting here, but the good news is you'll get chapter 7 early! And a rating warning-the end of this chapter probably pushes the PG-13 boundary into R for sex. I don't think it's terribly graphic, and I struggled with what to rate this fic because of this one scene. So I'm keeping the PG-13 rating, but if reading about sex isn't your thing, just be aware that it's at the end of this chapter.

6

60,056-60,059 (Kurillian Calendar)

They married once the rain and hail stopped pounding the continent. Eris's parents took a shuttle from Pegrill to attend the small ceremony, at which they, and the three witnesses to the marriage, were the only attendees. Weyoun and Eris wore the traditional matrimonial blue robes and were wed under the auspices of the Founders in the Tir District temple, surrounded by the temple's only illumination of flickering candlelight. Afterwards they went out to dinner with Eris's parents, their knees touching under the table as they ate. At home—the new flat that they'd been getting ready for the past several months—Eris flipped on the lights, looked at Weyoun, and promptly turned them off again. The bed, luckily, was unpacked, set up, and free of boxes, and their robes, though full of formal lacing and pins, came off easily enough.

The next two years were good; maybe the best of Weyoun's life. He and Eris had a happy marriage, not without its difficulties, of course, but waking up every morning and seeing her in bed beside him, and knowing that she'd always be there, filled him with endless surprise that such a simple thing could be so fulfilling.

Both of them excelled in their careers. Eris was on tenure-track and would achieve it before she was forty, a rare honor at Tira University. Meanwhile, Weyoun knew that the time was approaching that he would want to make the leap from political aide to politician, and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he wanted to be one of Tira Exarchate's senators. It was common for aides to move out of the exarchate they'd been employed in when they finally ran for office—he wasn't going to do that. All of his ties were to Tira, and even the ones he'd tried to divest himself of felt like they mattered in this case. Besides, Tira was the most powerful of the exarchates; not only was the capital city there, but it was resource rich and more highly populated. Even as a newly-elected junior senator in Tira Exarchate, he'd have more clout than many senior senators.

That gave him a choice of which seat to pursue. He'd never run against Foros; he owed the man too much and considered him too good of a friend to even entertain the idea. That left the seats belonging to Soltoi and Tira Exarchate's other junior senator, Nesenoi, a nonagenarian who had joined the Council later in her life. Nesenoi's term expired in two more years; Soltoi's in three, and even if the order had been reversed, he still thought he'd probably choose Nesenoi as an opponent.

Then, something happened to make up his mind definitively, something which he kept to himself until he was sure enough of the veracity of the rumors that it warranted a discussion. And the discussion itself couldn't be rushed into, so he kept things to himself until the moment felt right to bring them out into the open.

That moment suddenly occurred one night about halfway through the monsoon. An event honoring one of Eris's colleagues was being held at Tira University and propriety and etiquette made their attendance necessary. He couldn't have said what it was, exactly, that made it so imperative to raise this issue at that particular moment; all he knew was that as he got dressed, the urge to ask Eris felt too strong to let it go.

So, he announced, "I need your opinion on something."

"The brown jacket; it shows off your build," Eris said from the other room, where she'd disappeared to only moments before.

"No, that's not—" He stopped and glanced in the mirror, having already donned said jacket. "Does it?"

She peeked into the bedroom, her arms twisted behind her head as she tried to button the back of her dress. "Of course; it's a very flattering fit. But that wasn't what you needed my opinion on?" she added, raising an eyebrow from beneath the shadow of her raised elbow.

He gave her a look of fond exasperation and moved to her side, gently pulling her hands away from the buttons. "Rumors are flying that Nesenoi's going to be announcing her early retirement in the next few days—which means there will be an open election for her seat this cycle."

"Oh? Why is she retiring?"

"They say she wants to spend more time with her family."

"Oh," Eris replied delicately.

Weyoun laughed. "Though in this case, it's probably true. The woman's in her nineties. If I were her, I'd seize on my twilight years and spend them with my family, too." Finishing with the buttons, he planted a quick kiss on her neck just where the collar ended, then moved to face her.

She smiled slightly. "I'll remember you said that once you're a venerable, elderly senator."

"I'm sure you will," Weyoun replied. "And that's what I wanted to ask you. I want to run for her seat in the open election." He tilted his head at her, studying her for a reaction. "What do you think?"

Her expression was thoughtful. "Does it matter what I think?" she asked, not unkindly.

"Obviously."

After a moment of reflection, she reached forward and buttoned his jacket for him. "I have to admit, I'm a little surprised that you're trying for that seat."

Weyoun watched her, hearing more in her words than what she was saying. "You thought I'd run against Soltoi."

Glancing up at him, she replied, "I thought it was a distinct possibility. As long as she's in office, she's always going to be a threat to you."

With a shrug, he replied, "I've considered it. But I don't think I could win against her."

"If anyone could, it's you."

"Your faith in me is touching." When she rolled her eyes good-naturedly, he took her hand. "Anyway, this might be foolish, but it doesn't feel…right to run against her. It has the air of vendetta to it."

Raising her eyebrows, Eris remarked, "Now, that surprises me even more."

"Why?"

She smiled slightly. "Don't take this the wrong way, but when it comes to your career, you aren't the most…principled man."

A breath of laughter escaped him. "My dear, when it comes to your career, you aren't the most principled woman."

"Poaching one's colleagues' postgraduate students is standard procedure," she said dismissively. "But I suppose that makes us well suited, then," she added with a sly smile.

Putting a hand to her face briefly, he said, "Now, that I already knew." He held her gaze for a moment, then straightened his shoulders and grinned. "Anyway, in my case, it's never too late to develop principles, is it?"

"Not that I'm aware of." She kissed him softly. "And I'm glad I married a politician with some, even if they've been very slow in appearing."

"Technically I'm not a politician."

"Not yet." When Weyoun raised an eyebrow at Eris, she smiled at him and added, "You've always wanted this. How could I say no?"

Catching her hand in his, he said, surprise coloring his tone, "That's it? You're not concerned about how this is going to affect our lives? The toll it's going to take?"

"Do you want me to be?" Eris asked, and he was reminded of the night, several years ago, when she'd said she was going to be thousands of kilometers away for four and a half months and he'd been openly happy for her.

"No," he replied. "No, of course not. I just want to make sure you understand how invasive it will be in our lives, even after I'm elected."

With a laugh, she asked, "Are you sure about it?"

"The benefits to the job will be rather one-sided, I'm afraid. You'll mostly experience the inconveniences."

She took his other hand. "I know. And I know it's easy to say that I'm ready for it right now when I really have no idea what it entails. I suppose a politician's spouse is never really prepared for it. But I told you, I know you've always wanted this. I married you fully anticipating being a senator's wife."

For a moment, he just looked at her, her eye level several centimeters below his without her shoes on, the dark green of her dress bringing out the marble whiteness of her skin. "Have I told you recently that I love you?" he finally asked.

"Not since yesterday," she replied with a small, crooked smile. "By the way, you're rather sure of yourself, aren't you? 'Even after you're elected'?"

"I've been told before that I have a streak of over-confidence."

"Mm. One of the qualities I love most about you." She kissed him slowly, and he leaned his forehead against hers. "We should go. I'm depending on these people for tenure, after all—it wouldn't do to be late."

Taking a step back, he remarked, "You'd get tenure even if you never showed up at any of these events. You're quite the celebrity in academic circles."

"Your flattery is shameless."

"I've always had a talent for it."

With a laugh, she took his hand and said, "Let's go. You never know, you might even meet some potential donors for your campaign."

Squeezing her fingers, he replied, "Oh, I'm counting on it."

She arched an eyebrow at him, as though she knew that he'd wanted it to come off as a joke—but that she also knew that it wasn't. Academics had voted overwhelmingly for Foros in his last senate run. As his protégé, Weyoun was hoping for more than just their electoral support; he wanted their monetary support as well. And even if the election wasn't for five months, it was never too early to start sending out feelers for donors.

Nesenoi's announcement came within a few weeks and surprised no one by the time it was formally made. Weyoun had quietly asked Foros what his opinion on the matter was, and his employer was firmly in support of him trying for the seat. "Though," Foros had said with a smile, "I won't be happy to have to find another senior aide."

"I can get a list together for you of candidates," Weyoun had replied immediately—eager, as always, to be helpful. Foros had only laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.

Obviously, no one would be allowed to publicly declare their candidacies until three months before the election. Paperwork needed to be filed sooner, but that deadline hadn't arrived yet, either. Which was why, a few days after Nesenoi's announcement, the last thing he expected to hear, coming from his office door, was a voice saying, "I hear you're running for office."

Looking up from his padd, Weyoun found himself meeting the gaze of his one-time colleague in Soltoi's offices. "Kilana Yeroi," he said, leaning forward in his chair. "I can't imagine where you would have heard that, considering campaign season doesn't begin for another month."

She glanced over her shoulder, towards Rayik's desk. "What would a publicity staffer be without her sources?"

He snorted quietly. Rayik. What a surprise. However, he said, "You heard correctly."

She pursed her lips, smiling, and stepped through the door. Looking around the office—Weyoun could practically see her rein in the urge to remark upon its relative size (much smaller) compared to the one he'd had while he'd been on Soltoi's staff—she smoothed her shirt over her stomach and hips, accentuating her figure. His expression tightened fractionally. "Do you think you can win?" she asked.

He watched her, his eyes narrowed slightly. "I wouldn't be running if I didn't think I could win."

"Hm." Raising her eyebrows, she circled the desk. Weyoun clasped his hands on his desk and stared at them, a smile of mild exasperation on his face, waiting for her to finish her circuit. When she had, she perched on the desk in front of him, twisting her upper body towards him and crossing her arms over her chest. "No, I don't suppose you would be."

"Are you here for any particular reason, Kilana?" Weyoun asked.

Kilana reached out and picked up an arrowhead from his desk—a gift from Dala that Eris had brought back—and studied it for a moment before he plucked it out of her hands and replaced it. The action made Kilana smile. "You need staff," she said, "and I'm looking for a change of offices."

With a laugh, Weyoun leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. "Oh?"

"You sound skeptical."

"We didn't exactly get along when we were both working for Soltoi."

"Not exactly," she agreed with an incline of her head.

Weyoun raised an eyebrow. "Then what is it that makes you think I'd ever hire you onto my staff?"

She gave him that carefully crafted, coquettish smile of hers. "Because I'm good at what I do. Because I have the contacts in the media that you need, and because you'll really need them once Soltoi starts coming after you."

Staring at her for a moment, he finally replied, "Not to disparage your…no doubt impressive talents, but if you were really as sought after as you say you are, then you could get a job with anyone. You wouldn't need to come to me." He flicked his eyes from her head to her feet and added, "I don't think I'm your type of employer."

Kilana pursed her lips in a smile. "Confident, influential, and handsome?"

"Merely a prospective senator, was what I was thinking," Weyoun replied.

"Modest, as well. What a winning combination."

Feeling his patience begin to fray slightly, he said, "If you're looking for a new job, Miss Yeroi, I suggest you discuss it with Loura Thelesoi."

"Oh, please," Kilana scoffed. "Thelesoi couldn't win against Parnon. I highly doubt she can win against you."

"You're that confident in my prospects?"

"No more than you," she shot back shrewdly.

He narrowed his eyes. "Why do you really want to work for me? I know you, Kilana. You're good enough to find a position in a more promising office."

One corner of Kilana's lips turned upwards and she slid off the desk. "You haven't invited me to sit down."

With a snort, he said flatly, "Where are my manners?"

Kilana's sardonic smile grew and she seated herself in the office's one extra chair. Folding her hands in her lap, she said, "Promise me that you'll at least give my application some consideration."

He looked at her and gave her a sincere look, which he doubted she'd find convincing. "Of course."

The expression on her face confirmed that his false sincerity didn't fool her, but she didn't call him out. Instead, she leaned back and stared at him for a long moment, before finally saying, "You stood up to Soltoi when the rest of us have always been afraid to. I admire that."

"She offered me a choice," Weyoun said coolly. "All I did was avail myself of one of the options presented to me."

Kilana pursed her lips in amusement. "I'm sure you did. That must be why Soltoi spent the six weeks following your resignation trying to ruin your career in the Complex." When Weyoun didn't respond, she smiled slightly. "It's not an easy thing to stand up to her."

"And you think that by working for me, you will be?" he asked.

Her smile grew pleasant, though it was a smile that didn't reach past the surface of her expression. "Yes. She's just as intent on making sure you lose your campaign as she was on ensuring that she won her own two years ago."

Abruptly, he turned his gaze to the padd he'd been studying before she came in. "Then I pity her. I'm certainly not running as some sort of revenge on Soltoi."

"No? Well, you should be. Because she's out for your blood, Weyoun."

"You're not telling me anything that I don't know. Anyway, I dealt with this once already, so I have a certain amount of preparation this time."

Kilana smiled mockingly. "Of course. Weyoun Uldron is always prepared for everything."

"One of my finest qualities."

"I can't help wondering what you think the others are."

He didn't take the bait. "You seem unusually churlish today, Yeroi. I always thought one of your better qualities was your disingenuous genialness."

She didn't rise to the bait, either. Instead, she unexpectedly asked, "You're married now, aren't you?" Giving him a pleasant look with just the barest hint of a hard edge, she added, "Arethoi, correct?"

He watched her coldly and without blinking. "Yes. Happily."

"Hm. What a fateful hearing Hellad was for you." Nothing in her voice gave him the impression that she thought this was a particularly good thing. She glanced around his office, then said idly, "I was going to get married. That is, until Soltoi kept me working impossible hours and I was only home a few days a week, and then only to go to bed. And at the end of it, did I get rewarded for the work I'd put in?"

"It's not my problem or concern that Soltoi broke up your engagement," Weyoun said, turning his attention back to his work. "Or that you got passed over for a promotion."

She started to glare at him, then smoothed her expression to something more agreeable. "I don't need it to be. What I'm telling you is that you may not be out for revenge against Soltoi, but I am. You think I'm churlish? I'm angry. And there's no better motivation than anger and vengeance."

For a long moment, he watched her unblinkingly, considering this. She had a point. But then again, there was the issue of the thorny professional relationship between the two of them, and that stopped him, at the last second, from telling her he'd consider it. "I don't think so," he said. "Thank you, though, for your offer."

Kilana bowed her head, a shadow of irritation passing across her face. "Of course." She turned to leave his office, but then hesitated in the doorway and turned to face him again. "I should mention that I have some information on Soltoi that might interest you."

Weyoun angled his head and narrowed his eyes at her. "Information?" So. This was the real reason she thought he'd hire her. Everything else had been prelude.

Taking a step back inside, she said, "Yes. Information of such a nature that if Soltoi were to come after you, threatening to go public with it would make her stop."

An amused smile crept onto his face. "Are you actually bribing me?" he asked.

"The thought had certainly occurred to me. But no. I'd like to think of it more as me doing you a favor."

"And me owing you one."

Kilana shrugged. "Yes, I suppose."

For a long moment, Weyoun studied her, keeping his face carefully blank. The idea of working with Yeroi every day was somewhat distasteful, but he couldn't deny that she was good at her job. And if she really did know something that would keep Soltoi at bay… "What's the information?" he finally asked.

She smiled. "Are you offering me a job?"

Giving her a commanding stare, he said, "Bring me the information tomorrow, and I'll think about it."

Her expression tightened momentarily, then relaxed into her charming smile. "I'll see you then," she replied, with the air of someone who knew she was about to get exactly what she wanted.

He hired her. At least, he gave her the promise of an eventual hiring, once he could officially do so, and his word was good. The padd she handed him the following morning, detailing a fifty-year-old scandal that had been cleverly covered up, impressed him, not so much for its manipulation possibilities—though that was certainly part of it—but because of the fact that Kilana was good enough to have dug all of it up. Some of it, he was sure, had been deeply buried and heavily encrypted; some of the people she'd surely spoken with retired, and her methods probably hadn't all been strictly legal. But holding the padd in his hand, understanding, suddenly, so much about Soltoi that he never had, he found that he didn't care. The story was shocking in many ways and there was no mystery why it had been covered up. Having read through it, he knew he'd never be able to look at Soltoi the same way again. If any of it got out, her career would be over.

The need to use it never became explicit, though; a few dropped hints that someone in the Complex knew something was enough to keep the campaign at merely its normal levels of incivility.

As it turned out, Kilana was the only staff that he hired for his campaign. However, Leto took on the role of his senior aide in everything but name, and Eris…Eris gave him everything she could and more, and he tried to express how much it meant to him every time he put his arms around her, because he knew words never could.

And he won. At the end of election night, with all Tira Exarchate districts reporting, he had secured fifty-one percent of the vote, making him Senator-elect Uldron. His friends and staff, such as it was, had gathered in Foros's offices to watch election returns, and they were so boisterous that when Tira's governor put an interface call through to congratulate him, he had trouble hearing the man. Deimos and Rayik had procured enough rippleberry wine to get all of them well and truly inebriated, though the two of them partook the most, followed by Kilana, who had the most genuine smile on her face that Weyoun had ever seen. Eris held his hand tightly and waited until they got home, in the small hours of the morning, to put her arms around his neck and kiss him gently.

In one week, he would take up his post, and he would use the time to move into his new offices (fourth floor, tiny, and vacated by a newly-reelected senator from Dessa Exarchate), hire a full staff, and formalize the staffing decisions he'd already made. To that end, he sought out Leto while she was taking her lunch break, catching her in the corridor outside the canteen as she was returning to Foros's office.

Immediately, he handed her a bottle of rippleberry wine, and Leto gave him a questioning look. "What's this?" she asked him, then, with a bright grin, added, "Senator?"

"Senator-elect. For a few more days, at least," he corrected her, returning the smile. "And that's for all your help on my campaign."

She stared at it, scanning the label. "I don't know anything about wine, so you could have gotten me something cheap…but knowing you, this is an excellent year."

"Guilty as charged."

Smiling and shaking her head, she replied, "Thank you—but I was happy to help. Though that's not to say that I won't need to drink this entirely in one sitting. I still haven't recovered from the final debate."

"Having been on both sides of that wall, I'm inclined to think that the aides backstage have it much worse than the candidates," he said. "You were indispensable, though." She waved away the compliment, and Weyoun gave her a more serious look. "Leto, I wanted to ask you something."

Tilting her head at him and looking honestly puzzled by his tone, she said, "Go on."

"I was wondering if you'd come work for me." He watched her, gauging her reaction. "I need a senior aide and I can't think of anyone better suited for the job."

Leto stared at him, her eyes wide. "You're not joking?"

"Not at all." He stared at her seriously. "I've checked with Foros already and he says he's thrilled to accept your resignation so I can hire you. Though he's obviously thrilled to keep you on his staff if you'd rather not come work for me."

Her eyes were still wide, but there was a delighted smile spreading across her face. "No, I—Founders." She drew in a deep breath. "This is the last thing I expected. It was one thing to help you during the campaign, but— You know I don't have a university degree, don't you? Foros hired me directly out of school."

"It doesn't matter to me. Does it to you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No." She laughed. "No, of course it doesn't." Then, in a formal tone that was marred slightly by the bubbly happiness beneath it, she said, "Senator Uldron, it would be an honor to accept the position of senior aide in your office."

He held out a hand and she clasped it firmly, and then Weyoun said, "The first thing I plan on doing is increasing protections for historical sites in Tira Exarchate."

Leto grinned. "I'll start working on it right away."

"And," he added, his mind whirring into action, "I need to get on the spaceflight committee. The sequestrists are stalling. The entire project's being held up."

At that, Leto rolled her eyes and said, "You'd think they'd be more excited about getting into space now. Everyone else is happy about the radio signal."

The radio signal that she was referring to had been picked up only weeks previously; an anomalous burst of static in an otherwise normal stream of satellite data. Someone at Ground Control had noticed it and, not knowing what to make of it, sent it over to Tira University's astronomy department, where preliminary reports had quickly leaked out that it appeared to be a fragment of an artificial signal. There was too much degradation to reconstruct it, but the idea that intelligent life somewhere else in the universe had produced it had quickly swept any number of emotions across the entire planet—excitement, anxiety, fear, exhilaration. Everyone had felt some combination of them. Weyoun had been working on spaceflight for so long that he couldn't be anything but thrilled. Besides, he had Deimos supplying him with information that the general public wasn't privy to. Information about where that signal had come from (close), when it had been produced (within the last fifty years, probably more recently), and the sector of space that it had originated from (a strip of the night sky that included the Nebula).

"They don't want to believe that there's anyone out there besides the Founders," Weyoun said. "It's understandable."

"Maybe."

With a thin smile, he remarked, "Deimos would have said 'maybe the Founders produced it'."

Leto rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Deimos has an overactive imagination, and it's why he works for the science lobby instead of in a senatorial office." When he laughed, she smiled slightly, then asked, "Who are you planning on displacing from the implementation committee? They're all pretty firmly entrenched."

"I'll get one of the sequestrists out," he said. "It doesn't matter which one." Clasping his hands behind his back, he added, "There are only enough of them to slow things down, and they won't be able to keep me off the committee if I want to be there badly enough."

"Not if Foros and Deimos want you there badly enough, too," she remarked.

"My thoughts exactly." He narrowed his eyes, looking off into the distance at the hive of activity that was the canteen's outer corridor. "This isn't just about scientific discovery. If we don't start mining Soura's dilithium deposits, there are going to be energy shortages all over Kurill."

Shaking her head and shifting the bottle in her hands, Leto said, "Some people don't want to believe there's anything out there besides the Founders, and some people don't want to believe that the Pegrill dilithium seam is actually several hundred kilometers shorter than it was supposed to be. I suppose we all cling to something, it's just that most of us aren't in a position of power for that clinging to be dangerous."

Raising an eyebrow at her, Weyoun said, "And you thought I might care that you didn't go to university."

With a grin, she replied, "Foros always said I was more insightful than a good number of senators on the Council. Flattery, of course, but I can't pretend I didn't appreciate it."

"It's not just flattery." Weyoun returned her smile and clapped her on the shoulder lightly. "I'm sure Foros has already told you this, but—you're going to be an impressive senator someday."

She colored slightly, two faint splotches of purple appearing in her cheeks, before bowing her head momentarily. "You're my benefactor now, so I suppose I need to learn how to gracefully accept a compliment from you."

In answer, he just smiled, and was about to take his leave of her, when she mused, "That signal—it really is a shame it's so badly distorted. I'd like to know what it said. Maybe we could have sent something back."

Weyoun hesitated, knowing he should agree with her and walk away. But there was something else that he knew, something speculative, which the lead researcher at Tira University's astronomy department had only shared after much cajoling and a little ego-stroking. Even Deimos hadn't known this tidbit, though he'd planted the idea in Weyoun's mind when he'd remarked on the oddness of the signal's transmission frequency. The information wasn't something Weyoun would tell just anyone—it was alarmist, for one thing, and any combination of alarmist and conjectural tended to be a bad thing—but Leto, as his soon-to-be senior aide, was someone he had to trust.

"They couldn't reconstruct it enough to decipher the content," he agreed, "but they pieced together part of it. It was broadcast on a wide-spectrum frequency. That's why we picked it up at all—our orbital listening posts aren't advanced enough to pull anything more focused out of the background radiation."

Leto shook her head. "I'm not sure I understand. How does that tell us anything? What does it mean?"

He put his hands behind his back again, met her eyes, and lowered his voice. "Of course there's no way to know with any certainty. But on that frequency—it was a distress call."

Every bit of good humor fled from her face. Crossing her arms over her chest, holding the bottle of wine by its neck, she repeated, "A distress call?"

Her body language was unmistakable—the idea disturbed her; maybe she didn't want to know this, but Weyoun nevertheless said, "Yes. Someone was calling for help."

For a long moment, she didn't say anything. He regretted telling her. Then, with a hesitancy that suggested she didn't want to know the answer, she asked, "Do you think they got it?"

Weyoun gazed past her down the corridor. The crowds were thinning as the lunch hour passed, but groups of aides, runners, and senators were still clumped at tables throughout the canteen, or standing in the hall talking. He was sure most of them felt that their conversations were earth-shattering, but he doubted any of them really were. Maybe this one wasn't either. Still, how odd, to contemplate and discover that one's species wasn't alone in the universe, only to find out in the same moment that there was something else out there, something that could prompt a desperate cry for help on a frequency that everyone in the cosmological neighborhood would hear, but which no one would be able to understand. "For their sake," he finally said, "I hope so."

There was a crispness to the northern air that mid-continental Tira never experienced; a bite that could turn to hoar frost at night and trace the newly-budded leaves on the trees in silvered ice crystals. Already those leaves had lost the brightness of the early dry season, deepening to a fuller green and spreading wide to catch the sun's rays as the northern hemisphere tilted away from it.

"How long have you been planning this, just out of curiosity?"

Weyoun breathed deeply, then turned away from the surrounding woodlands to look at Eris. "Months," he said cheerfully. "I would have surprised you completely but I've always rather gotten the sense that you don't care for surprises."

With a smile, she replied, "Nice surprises are fine. But I wouldn't have been able to take two weeks off on short notice." She glanced over at him and smiled brightly, adjusting the strap of her bag across her shoulder. "Two weeks with you in a high-end resort where no one can contact us unless we initiate it—it almost seems too good to be true."

"Well, it seemed to me that we've been married four years and we should probably take a vacation together at some point." Birds called all around them and monkeys chattered in the branches above as they walked up the wooded path towards the cabin they'd rented for the next two weeks. The resort, and surrounding area, was called Loravin, and it was idyllic—gently rolling hills, wooded with broad, leafy deciduous trees and cut through with clear, cold rills. The area was famed for its bird-watching, fishing, and hiking. The resort was famed for its dedication to maintaining the privacy of its guests. And after his first few months of senatorial duties, Weyoun was more than ready to take a vacation.

Within another few minutes, they reached their lodgings for the next two weeks. The cabin, a two bedroom, one-storey affair ringed by a deck, was set at the crown of a low hill with tall trees surrounding it. Several wide wooden chairs sat out on the deck near the front door, and the inside was furnished in a similar style.

The two of them unpacked, explored the forest immediately around the cabin, and then returned to prepare dinner from the fully stocked kitchen. Later, after a long dinner and a bottle or two of rippleberry wine, Eris moved towards the door and opened it, staring out into the darkness. "Weyoun," she said softly, sounding breathless. "Turn the light off and come out here." He did as she asked, mystified, and felt his way through the dark to the living room. Her form, standing in the doorway, was a black silhouette, and he joined her. "Look," she said.

The two of them stepped through the door and he looked where she was indicating: up towards the sky. The sight made him draw in a small, sharp breath of surprise. Instead of the matte purplish-black of the night sky that he'd always looked up into, he saw a deep, inky expanse, and within it, a haze of white light, stretching in a band across the sky. Stars, he realized. He was seeing stars for the first time in his life. "That's the galaxy," he whispered unnecessarily, feeling suddenly as though the still hush of the night shouldn't be broken.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Eris asked, her own face turned upwards.

He just nodded. All the spaceflight legislation had made him think about space in terms of numbers and variables; practicalities and technicalities, and then that radio signal had made him wonder what they were getting into by going there. He'd forgotten—no, he'd never known—that space could be…poetry, or music, or—something that he didn't have the vocabulary to describe. There was suddenly something in him; an expanse of inexpressible feeling in his chest, and the closest thing to it that he'd ever experienced was…was—

Weyoun glanced towards Eris and he could just make out the familiar, beautiful lines and curves of her face, and the barest shine of her eyes. Taking her hand tightly, he said, "Very beautiful."

She turned to him and squeezed his hand. "I'm glad we came here."

The two of them stood on the deck in the dark stillness, silent and listening to the polyphonic calls of night herons and owls while they stared up at the sky. The depth to it, and the white band of the galaxy as they looked inwards towards its center, felt like infinite possibility. He wondered if somewhere else up in that milky strip of stars, another being on some other planet was staring up at it, feeling the same sense of awe.

"Let's sit down," Eris finally said, pulling him towards the two chairs that were on the deck. They settled in and the scope of the night seemed to pull back in towards them, shrinking down to a scale that he could understand. He didn't feel quite so small, at least, as he kept his hand linked with his wife's.

After a few moments, Eris made a small noise of recognition and said, pointing again, "Look how bright the Nebula is." She was right; with both moons down and no other lights in the sky, the Nebula looked like a glowing ember set against the hazy white of the galaxy.

He'd never really thought of the Nebula as a place before, but now, seeing it there, the obvious felt like a revelation—it was. That hypothetical being that he'd imagined could be in the Nebula, staring at Kurill's sun just as he was staring towards it.

"Do you think the Founders really come from there?" he asked. It was part of the legend, though in recent centuries the importance of that aspect of the story had waned.

She glanced at him. "I don't know," she mused. "Honestly, I always wondered about that. It seems so…obvious. If you were an ancient Vorta, and you knew the Founders came from space, where else would you choose?"

"Soura's dark side," Weyoun smirked.

Giving him a stern look, she said, "You shouldn't joke about the Founders."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

She looked back towards the sky. "It just seems very…convenient."

"Not to mention there are those questionable modern attempts to pin down the legendary past to a specific location. You wouldn't know anything about that," Weyoun remarked solicitously, grinning.

"My clever husband," she said airily, and he leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Do you believe that they came from there?" she asked, turning the question back towards him.

Running his thumb over the back of her hand, he said, "I've never given it all that much thought before now."

"And what are you thinking now?"

He remained silent while he mulled over it. "Now…it isn't that difficult to imagine the Founders looking towards us the same way we're looking towards the Nebula, is it?"

Nearby, a night heron called, and the sound of its wings rustling past as it launched itself from a tree distracted them for a moment. Just when he thought she wasn't going to answer, Eris replied quietly, "No." Then, she seemed to shake something off. "It's close, isn't it? I mean, astronomically speaking?"

Weyoun disentangled his hand from hers to put an arm around her, and he rubbed her back between her shoulder blades. He realized that he was glad to be talking about something concrete. "Two light years, according to Deimos. I suppose that's considered close."

Eris nodded thoughtfully. "Not that I know anything about space travel, but it certainly seems feasible that gods could cross two light years."

At that, he glanced at her. "Well, hopefully we're all about to know a lot more about space travel." When Eris looked at him, an eyebrow arched questioningly, he went on, "Deimos told me the other day that the first manned orbitals are going to be launched within a year. They'll orbit Kurill and if that goes well, a docking platform will be installed on the satellite station."

Eris's grin flashed even in the darkness. "Weyoun—that's amazing. You're responsible for that."

"Foros is mostly responsible for it," he demurred.

Turning to him and taking his hand again, she replied, "Foros started it but you kept pushing. And you're the one that got the refining restrictions loosened so the orbital fuel could be manufactured more quickly."

A smile twitched at Weyoun's mouth. "I love it when you start talking legislative hearings."

She snorted when he buried his face in the crook of her neck and kissed her collarbone. "I know just how to get you into bed."

With a chuckle, he sat back up, eyeing her body and toying with the short, feathery hair at the nape of her neck. "Not that it's ever been that difficult for you."

It was impossible to read the look in her eyes in the darkness, but the hand that she slid across his leg to his inner thigh, her fingers inching upwards, left no doubt as to what she was thinking. Her voice lowered to a purr. "I'm irresistible, you're saying?"

He gave a low laugh and turned to completely face her, easing a knee between her legs and letting go of her hand to run his up her arm to her shoulder, the close-cut fabric of her shirt bunching under his palm, the skin underneath it feeling tantalizingly close and unreachable at the same time. "Do I need to say it?"

"It never hurts," she replied, her voice still a purr. When he started to move his hand to her side, brushing his fingers across the front of her shirt, she slid into his lap, straddling him, her legs hanging off the back of the chair. "Though," she added, kissing his temple lingeringly, then moving down the side of his face, "at the moment, I must say that it's clear enough without you saying it."

"Delicately put," he murmured, unbuttoning the front of her shirt, unclasping her underwear, and putting his hands on her bare skin.

She shivered at his touch just as her lips finally found his. Their kiss was shot through with hunger that deepened when Eris worked his shirt off; and the coolness of the night air heightened his awareness of the heat of her body. He slipped her shirt off her shoulders and then slowly kissed the newly bared skin there, wanting to savor this night, and his desire, until it became impossible to do so any longer.

Her fingers traced delicate lines down his back and she pushed her hips slowly into his, smiling and resting her forehead against his when the pressure drew a groan from him. "Bedroom?" she breathed.

"Mm." He put a hand on her neck, his fingers in her hair, and kissed her deeply. "Not yet." The way she shifted her hips almost made him rethink that, but he distracted himself with the rest of her body, running his hands over her slender curves.

Eventually he slid his hands under her buttocks and lifted her momentarily while he stood up. She dropped her feet lightly to the wooden deck and hooked two fingers into the waist of his trousers, pulling him inside and into the bedroom, where the rest of their clothing seemed utterly unnecessary. Time seemed to slow and it was enough, for awhile, to lie there with her, their fingers tracing lines of desire on each other's skin. He caught her lower lip in his teeth lightly as he broke a deep kiss, then pressed his lips to her neck and the back of her delicately ribbed ear.

"Weyoun," she murmured. When he made an indistinct noise in response, continuing to kiss her neck and the back of her ear, she asked, "Weyoun, what do you think about having a child?" He raised his head and propped himself up on one elbow, surprised by the seriousness of the question, and she slid an arm around his neck, her fingers skimming his shoulders. "It might be a good time to start trying," she said. Then, she added, "We have over three years before you run for re-election."

There was no question in his mind, and he answered without even thinking about it. "Yes. It's a wonderful idea."

"Really?"

He leaned in to kiss her collarbone, then her breasts, as she sighed in contentment. "Of course," he finally replied, as he ran a hand down her body and rested it on her hip. "But what about you? If we time it wrong you'll have to take an excavation season off."

"We'll have to make sure we don't time it wrong, then." A seductive smile crept onto her face and she kissed his ear, then bit it gently. "It's going to require a time commitment either way. Especially the…preparations."

"I'll clear my schedule," he replied, and she drew in a sharp breath of pleasure as his hand wandered from her hip.

"Not to discourage you," she murmured, sliding her hands down his back, "but my hormone patch still has another two weeks on it."

He kissed her, parting her lips with his tongue, and she responded enthusiastically. "Practice," he managed to reply, and she laughed, which turned into a gasp as he allowed his lips to explore other parts of her anatomy. She shifted after a few minutes so that they were face to face again and he was looking into her eyes. The sight of them stilled him for a moment, and he raised a hand to her face. "I love you," he said feelingly. "You know that, don't you?"

Eris covered his hand with hers and leaned into his palm cupped over her cheek. "Of course I know." Smiling softly, she added, "This is…perfect."

"What?"

"All of this. You and me. Here. Anywhere. I never thought I'd feel that way." She traced a line down his chest with her finger and then flattened her hand over his heart.

"Well, that's clearer," he murmured, leaning in to kiss her again. When she pulled back a little, he gave her a questioning look, and she reached under her upper arm and pulled off a small, clear patch, about the size of a fingernail.

Holding it up, the adhesive keeping it stuck to her thumb, she asked, "You're sure about children?"

"Absolutely," he replied, his eyes on the hormone patch.

She reached over the side of the bed and flicked it away. "Just to give the decision some symbolic significance," she said with a smile, putting her hands to his face and running her fingers through his hair. It felt electric—symbolic significance, indeed. This time, when he moved to kiss her, she met him halfway, and he wrapped his arms around her, molding their bodies together. Every piece of scientific research had shown that the likelihood that they'd conceive a child tonight was so minuscule that it might as well be impossible—but he didn't see that there was any reason not to try, and maybe more than once.

He knew what Eris meant. The two of them, together—it was a precious thing that he'd never expected to have, and he thanked the Founders before losing himself in the yawning vastness of yearning between him and his wife.