Disclaimer: I do not own anything but the OCs. All rights to Paramount, please don't sue me, thanks.
Thank you so much to Fameanon for helping me write this.
Letant cursed loudly as the man in that ridiculous hat had the gall to kick him through the portal. He had already been robbed of oblivion, and now this upstart entity disrespected his person! This day was getting worse by the minute.
He opened his eyes to a haze of white nothing, and he took in a deep breath, finding the air was warm and fresh.
"Why do you yearn for oblivion?"
He turned and saw Martok staring at him. But then, it couldn't possibly be Martok. The expression was far too calm and detached for this to be the fiery Klingon warrior he knew.
"Who are you? What am I doing here?"
"He is aggressive." A figure much like Gelnon stood behind him, and he was suddenly on the ship of the Honored Dead. "Argumentative."
"He does not believe his actions are worth reward," said another figure, this one shaped like Strom.
From nowhere appeared the man he knew as Ben Sisko, former captain or commander of Deep space 9. He had a broad toothy smile, very different than the shadows and images of the people around him who spoke.
"Senator Letant, long time no see," Ben said in greeting, and suddenly they were in a bistro restaurant on what Letant assumed was Earth, and the image of, or real Captain Sisko (Letant didn't know exactly) was serving him a food concoction that was not completely without charm, nothing he'd ever tasted. It smelled rather good.
"Are you…" Letant started, looking between him and the food.
"I am," Ben replied with a smile. "And the others are the Prophets, or, as you might consider them, the wormhole aliens."
Letant became aware that the patrons around him were all looking at him, each carrying a face out of his past, from long ago, to most recently on the Klingon ship. He swallowed hard and placed his napkin in his lap.
"This isn't comfortable for you." Ben sat down, spooning out jambalaya onto Letant's plate.
"I should be…."
"He craves oblivion." The image of Sopek interjected him, as an image of a Jem'Hadar warrior approached from his side. "He is corporeal and linear."
Ben smiled. "He is, but he can learn." The captain scooped food onto his own plate. "It may help you to understand why you are here."
Letant tried to focus on the food, taking a fork and spooning some into his mouth. "I am here because no good deed goes unpunished."
Sisko laughed. "You always had a quick wit." He leaned back and considered the Romulan. "You aided in saving Bajor, not because you had orders, or particularly trusted us. You aided us because it was the right thing to do. Your aid helped save the Prophets, and Bajor, and millions of lives."
Letant shrunk a little. This was not the way of his people. Romulans didn't hand out awards and medals like Klingons. You did your duty and that was it, and he could see Sisko smiling at him even as he thought this. And then Letant laughed.
"Thousands of people lost their lives in this war, and where is their end of the rainbow gift? I did nothing more or less than my duty," he insisted, becoming uncharacteristically emotional. "Whole planets were scorched in the name of the Dominion, and innocent beings snuffed out like so much cheap garbage." He stood up abruptly and suddenly they were all back on the Bird of Prey he captained at the Battle of Cardassia. "I didn't save…" he choked out. "I deserve oblivion!" He slammed his fists into the console.
"He is injured." A man who looked like the Praetor of the Romulan Empire appeared beside him.
"He bleeds inside, even as he laughs." An image of Kira Nerys spoke.
"Senator, what you did is so much more than the standard call of service," Sisko said gently, appearing in the comms officer's chair. "You are a testament to Romulus, to your people, to our alliance as beings who did not deserve the shackles of the Dominion."
One shaped like Miral turned around from the weapons station. "He is not the first to be rewarded for his honor, and he will not be the last."
Sisko's Prophet mother slowly approached Letant, and all the bluster and pomp faded from his face as she took him in her arms, like a mother holding her child. "Rest, child of Bajor. Close your eyes. Do what you have never been able to do in your life." She stroked his hair down, holding him in her arms as his body slowly gave in to her. "Trust."
Then all things went dark.
…
Ziyal had been given a vision to prepare a room in the royal castle. The Prophets had instructed her that she was to return to the room at midnight, and she obeyed their wish. When she arrived she saw a man,presumably naked under the thick furry blankets, laying on his stomach like a baby who had been placed in a crib. She didn't recognize his face at first, but as she walked around the bed she understood this was the man from her vision.
Ziyal brought in paint and supplies, and sitting by a window, she lit a candle and painted through the night. She knew the look of a person so exhausted the only thing to cure it was that kind of deep sleep. The half-Cardassian woman cleared her schedule for the next day, ready to help the man acclimate to his new surroundings. It was good to have a new person in the world, and it would be interesting to see how a Romulan would fit into a world of Cardassians, half-Cardassians, and Bajorans. If the Prophets willed it, she believed it would be amazing.
Letant drifted awake, stretching luxuriously under thick, furry blanket. His sleep had been the best he had had in ages, not since he was a much younger man and used alcohol and women as sleep aids. But even that rest could not compare to the rest he had experienced.
He opened his eyes, blinking in the soft morning light that drifted through his window and spilled across his sheets. He heard the swishing of water and a soft rustling to his left, and looked over to see a young Cardassian-Bajoran hybrid painting by the window, her face the very picture of serenity.
"You will pardon me, madam," he grumbled, and she looked up at him with a soft smile. "Usually I have no qualms about appearing naked before a beautiful woman, but...I should like to know who you are and where I am before I attempt anything."
Ziyal carefully put down her painting and smoothed out her dress as she stood, "I'm Tora Ziyal." She said softly, figuring a man like Letant would know who that was. His eyes told her that he did know and she nodded. "Yes, his daughter and yes, the Prophets brought me here after Damar shot me."
Her soft voice and gentle demeanor put Letant at ease, for reasons he could not comprehend. "Everyone here is…." He didn't want to say dead, but he didn't know how to ask what he was asking.
"Everyone here is getting the chance they didn't get in life," Ziyal replied, still smiling. "Millions of Bajorans, Cardassians, and others were cut off too soon thanks to the Occupation and the Dominion war. Here, we all get to live the life we were denied." She walked over to the wardrobe and gathered clothes for Letant. "You will too."
Letant's lips pursed, and he found himself shaking internally. He was not a young man when he died. He had lived his whole life and then some, outliving all his enemies, which is more than any Romulan needed or deserved. His eyes followed her as she gathered supplies for him. "The bathroom is through those double doors. There are soaps, perfumes, hair products for Romulans, and everything you need to get yourself together," she explained. "I have arranged a private breakfast on the terrace for you so you can ask as many questions as you want. Your valet will bring you when you are ready – just pull the chord next to your bed and he will come fetch you."
Letant sat up, keeping his groin well covered. "If this is some kind of heaven, then what kind of heaven could it possibly be for a servant?"
"For some people, Letant, service is the fulfillment of life and love. I think you know that, as according to what I have been told, you served your people your whole life."
That stung, and he could tell his thoughts showed on his face. Ziyal did not linger, but rather left him to his own devices.
"Time to get cleaned up old boy," he told himself once she was gone. "I apparently have a whole new bloody life to live."
