Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.
Vamshi hurried to the airlock fifteen minutes before Weyoun's ship was due to depart. She carried with her the gray box full of things she wanted to give to the Vorta, and she felt silly for even doing this. But still, she walked on through the corridors to Lower Pylon 3.
After ten minutes of pacing in front of the circular airlock, he finally rounded the corner with his Jem'Hadar guards. The guards hung back at his command, but when he approached her, she pulled him and the box further down the corridor so that the guards were out of sight. She turned to him.
"I want you to have this," she whispered, nodding to the box. "I explain everything in there."
He bent down and reached for the lid, but she gently grabbed his wrist and shook her head. "Not here...when you're alone."
He nodded and looked down at his wrist, which she hadn't released. Instead, she pulled him closer and held him tenderly to her chest.
"You're sure you won't come with us?" He looked up at her expectantly, knowing she was going to refuse, yet still hoping she might say yes.
Pain shot into her eyes, and he frowned. "Don't tempt me, Weyoun," she said in a pained voice. She closed her eyes and her expression softened. "Please."
He bowed his head in defeat, but she lifted his chin.
"I want you to swear to me, Weyoun. Swear to me now that we will meet again."
His back straightened and he nodded. "I swear to you on my life that we will meet again."
"Good," she whispered back, and he could see her resolve hardening. "And when we do...I'm not leaving you ever again."
A tear trickled down his cheek, but she kissed it away before it got very far. Her lips lingered on his skin for a few moments, but she finally pulled away and gazed into his eyes. She glanced at his neck and smiled when she saw the leather string peeking out beneath his shirt.
"Whenever you feel lonely or unloved or unappreciated, or if you simply need cheering up," she murmured softly, looping a finger under the string and pulling out the wooden pendant, "take this out and hold it. And think of me when you do. Remember that across all those stars...there's someone here, thinking of you, someone who cares deeply about you. Will you do that for me?"
"Of course," he breathed back, holding the pendant firmly in his fist. He tucked it beneath his clothing again, and she pulled him close again.
"Come on...you need to go," she whispered after a few moments. "Your ship is waiting for you."
He nodded in resignation and prepared to call the guards when she pressed a finger to his lips. Faster than he could blink, she kissed him.
Their lips only connected for a split second, but to Weyoun, it felt like eternity. She pulled away and looked away in shame, and he reached up and touched his lips. That was the third time she had done that, and it exhilarated him. He quickly looked around and noted that the corridor was still deserted, and he quickly kissed her on the cheek.
Vamshi turned back to him with a strange expression, and then kissed him back on the cheek, but harder.
She pulled away. "I'm going to miss you. This is going to hurt us both, but like I said...we will meet again."
He nodded and softly called for the guards to pick up the box and put it in his quarters, and they obeyed. He gave her one last loving glance, then walked into the airlock and didn't look back.
...
Weyoun opened the lid of the box with trepidation, eager to find out what Vamshi had given him, yet frightened by what the box might contain.
The first item on top was a PADD, which he picked up and read.
My dearest Weyoun,
I put together a collection of items for you to take back to Cardassia Prime. Some are things you unfortunately left behind when the Dominion withdrew from Deep Space 9, but the other things are items I made for you. I'll explain each item along the way, because everything is in here for a reason.
He looked back down at the box and pulled out the first thing he saw: one of his gray undershirts that he had left in Bashir's quarters.
I realize by now you must have plenty of clothing, but I wanted you to know that Bashir gave me two of these when he left your stuff in my possession. I have the other one, and it's laying on the bed right now, because it comforts me to have an item of yours with me.
A tear trickled down his cheek and he breathed in slowly. Composing himself, he looked at the next item.
These reams of cloth are actually quite beautiful, you just don't know it, Weyoun. I can't help but wonder why you chose them, if perhaps, deep inside you, a tiny, primal sense of aesthetics is longing to break free. Or perhaps you saw other people buying it and bought it too, then tried to assess why people were so attracted to the pattern or the color or whatever. The latter strikes me as more likely. I like the purple silk one the best, because it matches your eyes perfectly.
He reached up and touched the delicate skin beneath his eye, hardly believing what he was reading.
Yes, Weyoun, your eyes. The eyes that pierced me through when you stared at me all those times. The eyes that lit up with joy when you played all your scales correctly. The eyes that looked on me with love and devotion when I had given you nothing in return. I know their color by heart now, having stared into them for hours on end. One of my favorite pastimes.
A dark eyebrow shot up at the last sentence, and he could barely hear the defective voice in his head murmuring in triumph. He ignored it and moved on to the next item.
I want you to know that I got your art piece that you sent me all those months ago. It's hanging on my wall right now, and it doesn't go with anything else in my room. But I don't give a damn about that, because it's the most wonderful material gift I've ever received in my life. Just the sight of it makes me smile. I can tell you put a lot of effort into it, and I can't tell you how proud I am of you, baby. You never cease to amaze me.
He couldn't hold back the gut-wrenching sob that racked his body at that paragraph. The tears streamed down his cheeks in small rivers, and he closed his eyes and calmed the gasps that escaped his lips. The box was full of the good art supplies Vamshi had gotten from Ziyal, and the next paragraph made him cry even harder.
So I've included these art supplies for you. I bought them from Ziyal, and I want you to keep working on your artwork. Don't worry about theory or aesthetics. You can worry about that when we meet again. For now, I want you to make whatever you want. Whatever comes to your heart, put it down on paper, or mold it into clay. True art comes from deep inside you, and even if its the most ugly thing on the planet, if you made it, and there is meaning behind it, its the most beautiful thing in the universe.
He put the PADD down lest he loose his composure completely, and he stood and ordered water from the replicator.
When we meet again. Not if, when.
He didn't stop drinking until the glass was empty, and he wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve. He dashed away the tears on his cheeks and sat back down, ready to move on to the next to last item. When he saw it, he gasped.
A trio of drawings in a jet black threesome frame sat in the bottom of the box. The first drawing was in charcoal, the second in colored pencil, and last in graphite. He stopped trying to compose himself as he stared at the frame, and the tears blurred his vision.
The first drawing was of him and Vamshi, sitting on a couch, staring at each other contentedly. Her hand rested on top of his, and he could see the devotion in his gaze as he stared at her. Her eyes were filled with the most amazing expression of endearment and affection.
The second was just of him, and the setting bemused him. His chest was bare, and a pair of light gray wings sprouted from his back. He was leaning casually on a balcony, staring off into the distance. The entire piece was done in soft pastel colors, and his eyes lept out at him. He frowned in confusion and studied the last panel.
It was of him and Vamshi again, only this time, they were in each others' arms. His eyes were closed, and his head was resting on her chest. She was looking down on him with the most tender expression on her face, and she was carefully brushing a stray lock of hair out of his face.
It's amazing how easy it was to draw your image, Weyoun. I never had to struggle to remember a single detail; your image is so imprinted on my mind that if someone asked me here and now to sketch you, I'd get every feature perfect...well, as perfect as a mediocre artist such as myself could hope to get.
You just don't know what a beautiful creature you are. Physically, you are like unto an angel, something out of a dream perhaps. Oh, we made you well, didn't we? There were probably scores of women on Deep Space 9 who would have loved to have spent as much time with you as I did, but no! You are mine!
Oh...those three words make me so happy. There are few collections of words that would make me happier than that trio: you are mine. Did I ever tell you how happy I was that I could say that? Damn it, I never told you. I never told you a lot of things...
My darling, my dearest, most precious Weyoun...you have no idea the things I want to say to you and share with you and teach you. I want to hold you in my arms for all eternity and let you share the very existence of the universe with me. You hold in your heart such amazing devotion and care for me...I don't know how to repay you. This box of trinkets is little compensation, but I hope its a start. Go ahead and look at the last item.
He obeyed and took a small stack of papers out of the box. It was a score of music, and he frowned at the title. But once he put it through the Universal Translator, he broke down into sobs.
Eros Pines
to my Psyche
He glanced back down at the PADD.
Did it ever occur to you that this song might be for you? Why do you think I was so eager for you to hear it, or that I played it around you so much? I poured my heart into that song, tried to put to music a fraction of the emotions I feel for you. It was the hardest thing in my life to do, but then again, it was so easy. The notes flowed from me so naturally, and once I started, I didn't stop. It took me six hours to put that piece together, and I consider it time well spent.
As for the dedication, well...if I had the power, I'd tell the west wind to pick you up and drop you off at my front door. What a wonderful gift that would be...So, in a way, I guess you are my Psyche. I like the sound of that.
Her Psyche. Did she really mean it? Was he really the one she loved so deeply that she was willing to give him everything, to give him her world just to be close to him? His mind told him that was ridiculous, but his heart...
He collapsed onto all fours and dug his fingernails into the carpet. His heart was breaking, ripping itself to shreds, and yet it soared as it shattered into a million pieces. For the first time, he tried to come to terms with the nagging realization that had plagued him since the night he had first fallen asleep in her arms.
She loved him.
Even as he tried to reconcile himself with the fact, his mind immediately rejected the very notion. Gods don't love their servants, the servants love and serve their gods! It was the order of things! There was no way, absolutely no way she could ever love him, love a servant, a lowly Vorta. That...that was...impossible.
You coward, the voice in his head spat as him as his mind succumbed to a whirlpool of confusion. Running away from your feelings when she just opened her heart to you. You make me sick.
"Go away," he murmured softly yet emphatically to that voice.
Stop acting like a child and analyze your feelings, Weyoun. What feelings come to you when you think of the Female Founder? Trepidation? Fear? Disappointment, perhaps?
He reluctantly agreed with the voice.
Do you feel that way when you think about Vamshi? Do you fear her?
No, he told himself. I feel happy when I think of her.
She's a Founder, and yet she's your friend.
Yes, she is a Founder...but it wouldn't be right for her to love me! That goes against the order of things!
Are you really going to deny yourself this for the order of things? Do you really want to stay 'just friends' with Vamshi forever, or do you want more?
I shouldn't want more. I should be grateful for what I already have.
Whoever said you weren't grateful for what she's already given you? But you know that she wants to give you so much more.
It's not right, he told himself weakly, knowing his words were becoming empty. It wouldn't be right for me to accept it.
If she asked for your love, would you really withhold it from her?
No...I would give her my all.
His heart soared at the thought, then sank again when the reality came crashing down. She was far away, and there was little chance he would see her again. He nearly cried at that as he packed the items back into the box and snapped the lid back on. He shoved it under his bed until he could find a better place for it.
She told you when, not if...you swore on your life you'd see her again. She's going to hold you to that.
A tiny glimmer of hope entered his heart, and he filed the defective, dangerous conversation away into the back of his mind for now, then laid down and fell into a dreamless sleep.
…
Damar strode into Central Command, a glass of kanar in one hand, the bottle in the other. As had become his habit, he looked at Weyoun and tried to examine his emotions. The Vorta was hard at work at a console, and his face was completely blasé. Damar was a little disappointed; the Vorta were always extremely focused and rarely let their emotions show, and it was satisfying to see Weyoun's emotional mask start to crack. But today he looked completely normal, as cool and collected as he always had been. There was no trace of grief in his glance as Weyoun looked his way, only the slight scowl of disgust that the Vorta always greeted him with when he was late.
"I was busy last night...must have overslept," he murmured quickly. The Vorta simply gave him a narrow-eyed smile and a nod, then returned to his work. Damar didn't bother saying with what or with whom he was busy last night, but then, Weyoun never did understand the allure of sensual pleasures.
"Where's the Founder?" he asked offhandedly to the Vorta, who raised his eyebrows.
"It's not really any of your concern, now is it?" he replied softly, not even taking his eyes off his work. "If you must know, she's in her quarters."
Damar chuckled and raised the glass to his lips. "Maybe she's hiding a Vorta in there..." he muttered to himself so softly that only Weyoun heard. He knew he was pushing it, but he couldn't resist pushing Weyoun's buttons. He had seen the way the Changeling had greeted Weyoun at the airlock, the tight, almost desperate embrace they shared. He knew the Vorta was enthralled with Vamshi, but it seemed he was determined to hide whatever feelings he had toward her.
"I highly doubt that," Weyoun replied coolly, and Damar could hear the underlying threat in his voice. He decided to drop the subject.
Weyoun smiled at the little victory; not only did he manage to hide his feelings and keep his composure after that remark that was obviously in reference to Vamshi, he also had managed to shut the Cardassian up for once. He chose a neutral subject and he played the chatty Vorta like his normal self, much to Damar's bemusement, he was sure. It wasn't a week ago that he had acted so quiet and sullen. Only in the silence of his quarters under cover of darkness would he dare let his emotions show. There were nights he cried himself to sleep, but the next morning he freshened himself up and walked out of his quarters clean, tidy and composed. No one would know his terrible secret: a Founder was in love with him, and, in the bottom of his heart...he loved her back.