Path: mindspring!hydrant.mindspring.com!firehose.mindspring.com!newsfeed.internetmci.com!152.163.199.19!portc03.blue.aol.com!newstf02.news.aol.com!audrey02.news.aol.com!not-for-mail From: odogoddess@aol.com (OdoGoddess) Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Subject: NEW DS9 1/4 [PG] "Good-bye..." (S&D, O/K) Date: 13 Oct 1997 23:49:15 GMT Lines: 249 Message-ID: <19971013234901.TAA25813@ladder02.news.aol.com> NNTP-Posting-Host: ladder02.news.aol.com X-Admin: news@aol.com Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com DS9 [PG] comedy, friendship (Sisko & Dax - Odo/Kira) Good-bye & Good Riddance! by Judith Macquinn (OdoGoddess@aol.com) This story was written in 1995, and originally printed in Outpost 5 Summary: Sisko helps Dax come to terms with losing Deral after "Meridian" while on the station, Odo and Kira try one last ditch effort to rid themselves of the odious Tiron... ---------------------------------- This one takes place (and was written) after the dread 3rd season episode "Meridian". Call it my effort to make lemonade from sour lemons. DISCLAIMER: This non-profit material was produced out of love for Star Trek: Deep Space Nine and is not intended to infringe upon the Star Trek copyrights of Viacom, Paramount Pictures Corporation, nor those of any other legal holders of Star Trek copyrights, in this or any other universe... ---------------------------------- Good-bye and Good Riddance! by Judith Macquinn (OdoGoddess@aol.com) "Commander?" Miles O'Brien's voice brought Benjamin Sisko out of his deep reverie. He was worried about his science officer and friend, Jadzia Dax, and it was beginning to show; this was his second lapse on the Defiant's bridge. "Yes, Chief? What is it?" Sisko asked. "The helio-seismic sensor graphing of the star is finally complete, sir," The engineer responded, adding, "We can get out of here." Technically speaking, such an observation was the bailiswick of the command officer and not his chief engineer, but Sisko forgave him; the last twelve days had been an emotional series of ups and downs, not the least of which was expecting to lose Jadzia Dax to her new love and his home of Meridian, only to discover she had not been able to successfully transition with him and the dimensionally unstable planet. Jadzia had been in her quarters since yesterday afternoon and no enticement had induced her to leave them. Benjamin could not ever recall her, or her previous host, Curzon, for that matter, being so despondent. Having to remain in the system in order to record the star's internal workings in order to realize a future attempt to stabilize the radiation pulses which caused Meridian to appear and disappear, had only made an intolerable situation for Jadzia, even worse. Sisko was glad to hear they could leave, even if it meant cutting their excursion short by a day. "Set coordinates for the wormhole, Chief, and monitor for Jem'Haddar patrols. We don't need to run into the Dominion on our way home," Sisko sat back with satisfaction. The bridge doors slid open and a grave-looking Julian Bashir strode in, stepping directly to Benjamin's chair. He stood at casual attention. "What can I do for you, Doctor?" Commander Sisko asked him evenly. "Jadzia refuses to answer her door, to come out of her room and according to the ship's computer, hasn't eaten since I released her from Sickbay two days ago," Bashir replied succintly, adding, "I have never seen Dax so distraught." "Neither have I, even with Curzon, but I don't see what can be done, aside from honoring her wishes to be left alone," Sisko shrugged, then added, "Unless you have something in mind, Doctor?" Julian frowned slightly, then finally sighed and nodded. "From a medical standpoint, obviously she does have sound reasons for being so depressed, but it's not healthy to close off and to neglect one's bodily needs," his voice dropped to a more conpiratorial level and Sisko had to tilt his head to hear him, "If this same level of depression persists, I'm afraid I'll have to prescribe medication as well as psychiatric evaluation." Sisko sat back, astonished, but maintaining their confidential discussion by whispering, "It's only been a day, Doctor. Don't you think that's a bit premature?" Bashir shook his head, "You don't understand, Commander. It's not just Jadzia, but Dax who suffers. Joined Trill are less able to withstand depression and deprivation due to their converted physical makeup. An unjoined Trill might be able to go without food, but Jadzia is not unjoined. She might feel like fasting, but the creature within her requires steady nutritional levels in order to maintain their mental connection, hence the entire bodies optimum functional level." Benjamin considered this and frowned. "What can we do?" "Well, sir, while I hate advocating a 'break-down-the-door' approach, in this instance, it might become necessary." Julian stepped back now and added quietly, "If she doesn't come out of her room, or at least eat, by this evening, I'm afraid we'll have to take definite action." Sisko nodded at Bashir and the doctor took a seat at an unoccupied console. While he watched, the doctor entered his personal code and activated the monitor, then called up an unblinking display; the ship's replicator logs. (-|-) * * * * * (-|-) * * * * * (-|-) "That's it, I've had it!" This explosive statement by Major Kira Nerys did not really surprise the Chief of Security; she had many reasons to be irritated this afternoon. Odo had been methodically undersigning approved immigration visa's with her for nearly two hours at the Replimat and all the names and numbers were starting to turn into an indistinguishable blur for him, but he nonetheless intended to continue until he had finished the job. Kira had far less patience for this type of tedious administrative work. As expected, the Bajoran's who had escaped during the Cardassian Occupation had been slowly trickling back to their homeworld since the Cardassian's withdrawal. Currently three ships were docked at DS9, carrying several hundred hopeful Bajorans, all desiring at least temporary welcome. Some merely wished to show their children their homeworld, some came to witness a free Bajor, others hoped for permanent homes once again. Unfortunately, the steady numbers gave the station's Liason Officer and the Chief of Security a continual stream of tedious administrative work from hospitality protocol and authorizing reclamation entitlements to residential requisitions and background checks. Over time, Kira and Odo had established a routine in order to accomplish this adjunct of their respective jobs, without unduly affecting their more pressing duties of office, but those duties grew exponentially with the Starfleet Officers on the station's senior staff gone for two weeks on a mapping survey in the Gamma Quadrant and not due back yet until tomorrow evening. Being well accustomed to Kira's moods, the steadier Odo had been expecting her to ask for a break in the seemingly endless signing for the last hour. The Major had been growing increasingly irritated, monosyllabic and occasionally sighing with fatigue, but looking up now, he realized her outburst had little to do with overwork. Tiron, one of Quark's odious business 'associates', and who saw himself as a would-be suitor for Kira, was heading down the ladder of the main Promenade toward the Replimat. The man was a disagreeable nuisance which he and Kira wished would disappear. "Hasn't he had enough?" the Major grumbled now with savage irritation. "What does it take to get a message through to him?" Tiron had first disturbed the pleasant tranquility of Kira's morning coffee break a week and a half ago. She had asked the constable to join her and they had settled in their seats at the Replimat for some relaxing conversation when the annoying alien had stepped up. Ignoring Odo's presence, Tiron had immediately initiated a suggestive monologue of obvious intent. To quell him, the Major had garnered the startled security chief's help by way of introducing him as her lover. Thankfully, Odo had not protested her misrepresentation. In fact, the constable permitted the Major this falsehood, not only because he cared for her deeply, but also because the salaciousness some males displayed to women disgusted him and the thought of it directed at any woman was disturbing. When such attention was directed at Kira Nerys it was almost intolerable. Hence, for the twelve days since the station's Starfleet staff was away, Odo had attended every meal with Kira, walked about the station with her, walked her to her cabin at end of shift, outwardly maintaining the harmless fiction. Unfortunately, Tiron had merely curtailed outright pursuit, maintaining an eye on Kira while managing to avoid the station's loitering and stalking laws. His intent remained disturbingly obvious. Worse, they had discovered yesterday it was Tiron who had paid Quark to create a holo-image of Kira, no doubt for some perverted sex program. Such activity, while offensive, was not, however, illegal and there was little for Kira and Odo to do but try and thwart the man. A small smile curled the edges of Odo's mouth as he remembered the surprise they had set up in Quark's holo-suite. Tiron had thought he would be enjoying the amorous attentions of a holo-program of Kira. What he had encountered was the repulsive head of Quark atop the ravishing body of-- The Major's exasperated tone abruptly cut off his reverie. "That rotten son of a..." Looking up to see Tiron fast approaching their table, Odo sensed rather than saw Kira scoot closer beside him and just managed to avoid an overt reaction when he felt her warm arm insinuate itself beneath his which was resting on the table. He curled his fingers around her hand, a gesture of silent support. "Why, Tiron, are you still on the station?" Kira asked with impressive nonchalance, setting down her signature stylus with a wide, deceptive smile. "Indeed," The alien responded pleasantly. His eyes however, took in only Odo's presence, in particular noting his hand possessively holding Kira's and his eyes narrowed. "I do plan on leaving tomorrow," he finished with a slight widening of the nostrils. "I suppose business is brisk," Kira responded, adding, "Still, if you're into making money, I suppose you have to keep busy, keep moving...miss out on things." She suddenly snuggled her head against the hollow of Odo's neck and sighed contentedly, privately noting Tiron's flaring nostrils with amusement. When she had first deceived him into thinking Odo was her lover, Tiron had quickly insinuated that the security chief could not earn enough to maintain her. This attitude was infuriating to Kira and she'd used every possible opportunity to imply his viewpoint was faulty. "Isn't it sad that Mr. Tiron is so busy, sweetheart?" she practically purred now, smiling as if with privately-shared sensuality up at Odo, who swallowed and took in a breath. The somewhat distracted constable finally managed to say, "Indeed." Odo's eyes remained locked on Tiron, despite the distraction Kira was posing; the alien businessman looked a bit smug to him. If he concentrated too much on what the Major was doing he was likely to lose his composure. She snuggled a bit closer and he forced his thoughts to other things, trying to appear a calm he did not feel. __It's not Kira. It's just a shawl that's draped by your shoulder and around your arm. A nice warm shawl...a very soft...warm...ravishing__ Odo cleared his throat and swallowed again. To Tiron, the constable appeared a bit glassy-eyed. "Well, what brings me here now is pleasure, not business," Tiron replied mildly, turning slightly to look at Kira now. He gave a small, cultured bow in her direction and explained, "Since I will be taking leave of your charming station, I would like both of you to be my guests at a private dinner on my ship tonight." He included Odo with a nod of his head. Kira's eyes widened in surprise and she briefly tightened her grip on Odo's hand. Before either could respond, Tiron added with a silky smile, "And I'm telling you now: I refuse to take 'no' for an answer." (-|-) * * * * * (-|-) * * * * * (-|-) 2B cont'd Path: mindspring!hydrant.mindspring.com!firehose.mindspring.com!newsfeed.internetmci.com!152.163.199.19!portc03.blue.aol.com!newstf02.news.aol.com!audrey01.news.aol.com!not-for-mail From: odogoddess@aol.com (OdoGoddess) Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Subject: NEW DS9 2/4 [PG] "Good-bye..." (S&D, O/K) Date: 13 Oct 1997 23:49:32 GMT Lines: 260 Message-ID: <19971013234900.TAA20367@ladder01.news.aol.com> NNTP-Posting-Host: ladder01.news.aol.com X-Admin: news@aol.com Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com DISCLAIMER: in part one. ---------------------------------- Good-bye and Good Riddance!, pt. 2 by Judith Macquinn (OdoGoddess@aol.com) Jadzia was curled into as tight a ball as she could get on her bunk in her cabin aboard the U.S.S. Defiant. Even the room's dim lighting had been an affront to her senses and so she had shut off her room lights. She wished she could cut off her bunk from the rest of the room and further darken her surroundings. If only, she thought bitterly, I could get away from my thoughts... not even for very long, she pleaded silently. Only a few (SIXTY) years... This thought sent a cold, numbness throughout her. She had yet to think too much about what had happened on Meridian, it was much too traumatic. The horrible moment when Jadzia had realized she was not transitioning with Doral was nearly unbearable. Meridian had started to discorporate around her and she still remained, partly able to see into a fathomless and formless dimension into which Doral and his people and their planet had entered, partly able to make out the darkness of the void around her, empty space where a planet and atmosphere had surrounded her. Where its people had accepted her, where Doral had held her and told her he wanted to spend his life with her. She had grown to love Doral with fierce abandon and the agony of suffocation and imminent death by atmospheric decompression had been nothing compared to the agony within her heart. O'Brien's quick action had pulled her free of the magneto-gravitic disturbance created by Meridian's discorporation and she had found herself screaming and flailing on a biobed in the Infirmary, gasping for air. A quick hypospray from Julian had slipped her into a comforting darkness from which she had been roused several hours later, having been administered to in her unconscious state. Bashir had returned her body's biomolecular structure to it's previous normal state from the drastic revision it had received to attempt the transition with Doral. She had shrugged off his softly spoken attempts at comfort and slipped to her room on Defiant as soon as she'd been able. Now she shut her anguish and grief down, pushing it deep within her...hoping that if they went in far enough, maybe she would stop hurting. (-|-) * * * * * (-|-) * * * * * (-|-) "That does seem rather excessive," Odo pointed out to Kira, who currently sat cross-legged on the floor of his living room. She had come to his quarters less than five minutes past the end of their shift, after unsuccessfully trying to come up with a station emergency which could keep the two of them from dinner with Tiron. That was nearly ninety minutes ago and they'd gone from the creative and impossible to the desperate and improbable to the ludicrous and unlikely. Unfortunately, Tiron had done his homework quite well. He had superciliously told them that when he had informed assistant Ops watch commander Vati and assistant security chief Eddington earlier in the day that he intended on having their supervisor's over for a special dinner on his ship in their honor, both had swiftly (and innocently) assured him that they would see to it that nothing would disturb either the Major or the Chief of Security. Kira shook her head now. "We wouldn't really let an entire crate of voles loose, Odo, just release one or two on top of Quark's dabo table and when the people run screaming and you respond, well...who could say it wasn't more?" she argued, frustrated that between the two of them no viable falsehoods had surfaced. "I won't participate in something that might harm bystanders," Odo replied firmly. Kira sighed, then shrugged. "Alright, what's your idea?" Odo hesitated, then finally essayed, "Perhaps we should concentrate on what you humanoids call 'getting our stories straight'?" The Major sat back against the leg of a large, arachnoid sculpture in the middle of Odo's living room and looked at him in astonishment. "You gave up!" Her tone was accusatory. Odo bristled. "Major, we have less than an hour in which to come up with a sensible and feasible plan, which I have conceded is unlikely in the extreme. That being the case, I suggest we work out simple, but memorable conversational leads to cover any area's which, unfortunately, Tiron is almost certain to try and examine." "We were invited to dinner, Odo, we won't have to talk," Kira said stubbornly. Odo sighed. "I know Tiron and others like him. He will, without doubt, be trying to test us to find out how strong our alliance is." "Our *alliance*?" the Major threw up her hands and snorted, "I think he'll know we have nothing between us if you keep using words like that!" The shapeshifter squared his shoulder's with an air of injured dignity. "You know very well what I mean, Major." Kira sighed, then shook her head and looked up at him. The constable had remained standing by the bulkhead between an unidentifiable potted tree and an obscure pre-Occupation sculpture from Bajor. His soft voice had not hidden his offended sensibilites and the Major suddenly realised that Odo had nothing to gain by this past week and a half of guile and pretense. Yeah, sure except for the glory of your 'cheerful and entertaining' company...guess again, Nerys. She shook her head and then stood with a deep sigh, using the statue leg behind her for balance. Odo watched her, uncertain of her intent now. "I do know what you mean and you're right, constable," Kira said now, coming to stand directly in front of him. Odo's eyes widened slightly and she suppressed a smile at his wariness, so characteristic of him, and taking his hands in both of hers she urged him to come out from between herbage and artwork and sit down on the floor with her. He did so, somewhat diffidently, a rather large frown on his face. "I also think," she continued once they were both sitting eye to eye, "If this is going to work, then for tonight we should try to stop bickering, Odo." "Bickering?" The shapeshifter seemed puzzled. "Bickering," she asserted, adding, "We've been working together for a long time you and I, constable, and our lines of work are stressful and because we do get along so well, we do have a tendency to bicker. Like family members do." Odo tilted his head. His tone was somewhat wounded, "I never thought of us as 'bickering', Major. There is occasionally, perhaps, some matter of contention which " "Bickering, Odo," Kira insisted, adding, "And for tonight, if we're to have any hope of making it through dinner, then it needs to stop. We need to be like one, like a well-oiled machine. At least, if we want to impress Tiron with our unity and make him leave the station once and for all and look somewhere else for a romantic attachment." Odo swallowed. "I'd like that." "Then it's agreed. No bickering. Starting now. And then tomorrow you and I will celebrate our own private dinner," Kira smiled sensually. "We will?" Odo seemed startled. "Yes!" She exclaimed, then shook her head at his imperceptiveness and sighed, explaining, "For getting rid of Tiron. The pest." "Ah," For some reason, the constable seemed a bit crest-fallen. Kira assessed him for a moment. "Odo, is something wrong?" she asked without the slightest subtlety. The shapeshifter simply shook his head. "No." He let her hands go with a small sigh and sat a bit straighter. His tone was even. "So what's our story, Major?" (-|-) * * * * * (-|-) * * * * * (-|-) "Sisko to Dax." The commbadge was a remarkable piece of communications engineering. In Starfleet's early history, there had been heavily trained communications officer's who were needed simply to access, pinpoint, amplify and bring in (coax in, really) the subspace radio signals which had been in use at the time. The twenty-second century on Earth. __I think. Well, give or take a century. What's a hundred years__? "Lieutenant? Please respond." Now the technology had been refined to the point where the commbadge easily had the range and flexibility of the first starship's entire ships communications board. Of course, Earth's planet-wide communication not involving subspace had used devices like the commbadge since the late twentieth century. "Jadzia, it's Benjamin and if you don't respond, I'm going to use my command authorization to open this door." Dax recalled holding a device in her hands, well, actually Emony Dax's hands, which any twentieth or twenty-first century Human would recognize as a telephone. It had been a few years after he'd first been been joined to a host. It had weighed about as much as an Earth grapefruit. __When's the last time I tasted a grapefruit? Was it Tobin who ate them? No, I think it might have been Emony...yes, of course, why else would she have compared them in that manner? Emony was the acrobat, and so very theatrical...what fun she'd had mingling among the early twenty-first century Humans, pretending her spots were merely tatoos...or was that Jadzia__? "Computer. Command Override one-eleven-alpha-delta nine. Open this door." Dax sighed, barely able to care, although his minor sidestep down the last three hundred years of communications had been interesting. __I should write a treatise. Well, Jadzia isn't interested in communications__. Jadzia made a face. [I'm not interested in anything right now, just leave me alone!] She looked up though, to look at the dark and somber face of Benjamin Sisko who watched her worriedly. "Dax, I'm worried about you, old man." Sisko's voice was also somber, but with an undercurrent of concern which Jadzia responded to. She sighed regretting the worry she'd caused him. __Two lives now, my old Human friend. Will Jadzia be the host to attend your funeral or will it be another form of me__? "I'm alright," Jadzia's voice was dull, but she managed a wan smile. "Don't worry about me." "Someone's got to," he insisted, sitting beside her now on the bunk, "Since you obviously aren't making the effort." "I'm fine," Jadzia's voice had no inflection. Sisko eyed her worriedly. "I've brought you steamed aznah and some grapefruit juice," he said unnecessarily, since he'd been carrying a tray since he entered the room. To his surprise, however, Jadzia's eyes lit up with interest. "Grapefruit?" Benjamin smiled, encouraged by this spark of life. "Yes, freshly squeezed." She looked him straight in the eye, saying, "Don't tease me, Benjamin, it's not nice to tease your elders." He smiled and shook his head, "Honestly, Dax, it is. Keiko gave a handful of them to the Chief before the mission. Her fruit tree's are producing at a hardy rate. He gave two to me with best wishes for you. I made the aznah, just the way you like it," Sisko gestured at the lovely flower in the vase on the tray, "Julian supplied the rose. He said you'd know what it meant." A yellow rose...for remembrance, her mind whispered. Jadzia's eyes filled with dumbfounded tears suddenly. She had no idea which of her past symbiont's held this bit of information; it really did not matter in the end. With sudden, wrenching sobs, Jadzia Dax began to weep helplessly. Covering her face with her hands, she allowed the concerned, but understanding Benjamin to put down the tray and put a supportive arm around her shoulders, pulling her close against his broad chest. As her tears and their volume grew into the consummate agony she'd kept reined tight within her, he urged her to release them, gently stroking her hair. Sisko's sad, dark eyes held a level of comprehension that few men could lay claim to. He whispered softly, insistently, "It's alright, old man. I know. It hurts like it's never going to stop, but you've got to let him go." (-|-) * * * * * (-|-) * * * * * (-|-) 2B cont'd Path: mindspring!firehose.mindspring.com!newsfeed.internetmci.com!152.163.199.19!portc03.blue.aol.com!newstf02.news.aol.com!audrey02.news.aol.com!not-for-mail From: odogoddess@aol.com (OdoGoddess) Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Subject: NEW DS9 3/4 [PG] "Good-bye..." (S&D, O/K) Date: 13 Oct 1997 23:49:47 GMT Lines: 289 Message-ID: <19971013234900.TAA25860@ladder02.news.aol.com> NNTP-Posting-Host: ladder02.news.aol.com X-Admin: news@aol.com Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com DISCLAIMER: in part one. ---------------------------------- Good-bye and Good Riddance!, pt. three by Judith Macquinn (OdoGoddess@aol.com) "Thank you, Tiron, this is fine." Kira Nerys' voice held an oddly jovial tone; at least it would have to anyone who knew her well, but the only one at the table who did was Odo. The constable, however, was quite busy trying to figure out a small, but complicated puzzle which his host had provided him with at the start of dinner. "Since Mr. Quark has informed me you don't dine, Mr. Odo." Tiron had said, handing him the game and smiling, "I thought you might appreciate this." Odo found the PADD-encrypted device ingeniously simple, yet deviously complicated to unscramble. It was a Vulcan game called Tr'hoyyk, similar to an old Earth rubicon, but with four dimensions and a continually shifting center of balance. His eyes and hands had yet to stop moving since he'd first started entering instructions on the PADD. Kira eyed him with frustrated irritation. "*Sweetheart*...you're not paying attention to Mr. Tiron's questions," she said between grit teeth and a wide, disarming smile. The constable looked up briefly. "I beg your pardon?" "I said," Kira repeated, setting her fork down and urging him with her eyes, "that you're being rude to our host." Tiron waved a dismissing hand. "Not at all, not at all. Please continue, Mr. Odo, after all," he graced the Major with a smile, "Since your chosen cannot eat, then it falls to the discerning host to provide some form of nourishment nonetheless. In this case, it's food for the mind. Is it not, Mr. Odo?" Odo blinked and looked up again. He had returned his attention to the game immediately after Tiron had waved his hand. "I beg your pardon?" "Please continue," the alien businessman smiled broadly. Kira's nostrils flared with disgust. She did not much appreciate being made to put up with Tiron's innuendo and stilted conversation by herself. Not to mention his idea of dinner. __I've had tastier palukuu! Gamy palukuu, even__. "How's your Delavian souffl,, Major?" Tiron inquired. "Just fine," she managed to reply, around a mouthful of the saltiest, grainiest, mushiest forage she'd ever had the misfortune to stomach. "I'm so glad you like it," He enthused, toasting her with his glass, then sipping at his wine. He smiled at the retiring Dabo girl he had hired for the evening who sat next to him and nodded his head at her. She hadn't spoken since the start of the evening and barely eaten. Kira couldn't recall her ever speaking and she wondered idly if the woman was genetically mute. __Kenara, I think is her name__. The woman smiled at her and raised her own glass. Kira smiled back. __Good idea, wash out this horrid slop__! She'd drunk all of the genuine Bajoran ale which Tiron had provided, however, so was constrained to try the glass of thick, orange liquid which her host had proudly maintained was a Klingon wine of great potency. She shrugged inwardly and took a swallow. Unfortunately, Klingon d'gaHl did not mesh well aesthetically or appetizingly with Delavian souffl,. She managed to force down the swallow and hide her grimace in a smile. "It's nice to see you relaxing, Major. I've noticed how hard you work all this past week," Tiron stated, not noticing her expression. She cleared her throat, still feeling grainy residue on the back part of her tongue. She forced herself to take another swig of d'gaHl. To her surprise, this time it tasted a bit different and she drank a bit more down, this swallow uninfluenced by the earthy-fungal taste of the souffle. __*Not* bad__...she mused. Tiron smiled, pleased, and poured her some more which she sipped, truly appreciating this untainted taste of the d'gaHL, then swiftly halved the glass with gusto. Within seconds, she could feel warm fiery tendrils rush into her veins, race to her fingers and toes and more private regions and begin to glow there. __This is some dinner wine__...! She smiled genuinely now and then looked over to Odo who was engrossed in the fourth level of Tr'Hoyyk. She took one of his hands in hers and sighed. Distracted, the constable looked from the game to his dinner partner. "Huh?" Kira graced him with a lazy smile, murmuring, "You don't know what you're missing, Odo." Her voice was cheerful and sensual. He blinked at this, looked regretfully down at the game, then opted to put the game on hold, setting it down on the empty plate before him. "What is it I'm missing, Kira...sweetheart?" He frowned at his lapse of forgetfulness and noticed to his irritation that Tiron was listening with avid attention. "This d'gaHl," she lifted her glass and Tiron topped it off again with solicitous, if nauseating charm. She barely noticed him, though, promptly halving the drink again with enthusiasm "Oh, it's too bad you can't have any, sweetheart," she exclaimed breathily. "It's wonderful!" Odo eyed the Major carefully. Her eyes seemed a bit bright to him, her face was flushed and her hand on his was a bit clammy. He nodded to Tiron. "Your repast appears to be quite affecting, Tiron." He surreptitiously squeezed Kira's hand three times; this was their prearranged signal to take their leave. To his surprise, the Major frowned at him and shook her head. She murmured soto voce, "I don't feel like going just yet." "Sweetheart," Odo began in a soft, urgent tone, concealing a sinking feeling of concern as he added, "We've taken enough of Mr. Tiron's time here and we both need to get up early." This, was their *second* prearranged signal to take their leave. Kira pulled her hand free with a petulant look. "I want to stay a little longer." "And so you shall, my dear," purred Tiron with unfeigned pleasure, saying to Odo in a conciliatory tone, "Indulge her, Mr. Odo, I'm quite sure it's a rare opportunity for her, indeed for both of you to get out very often. And I had planned on playing the two of you some wonderful old-Earth music I purchased on Orin V. The perfect after-dinner complement." "Yes," Kira suddenly agreed, a gleam in her eye Odo had never seen before, "I feel like dancing." She stood, went to Odo's side, then, to his amazement, ran her hand along his chest possessively, and sighed, "I haven't danced in such a long time, sweetheart." (-|-) * * * * * (-|-) * * * * * (-|-) "How is she?" Bashir sounded a little concerned when Sisko made his way back up to the Defiant's bridge. The commander was moving with a tired trudge rather than his normal stride. "She'll be alright, Doctor. Don't worry," Sisko smiled tiredly at the doctor. "I think she'll be just fine, given a little more time." "But did she eat, sir?" Julian asked with a slight frown, "At least have some " Sisko raised a hand, "Don't worry. She had all the juice. I managed to get a few spoons of aznah in her, too. But I think she'll eat more later." The doctor sighed with relief. "Thank you, sir. I didn't particularly relish the thought of having to pull medical rank on her. Although," he added quickly, in case Sisko misunderstood his reluctance, "I would have if I'd felt it was needed." The commander seemed amused, "I know that, doctor." "Aye, sir," Bashir still seemed a bit discomfited. Sisko nodded at him. He turned to O'Brien who manned his board without sign of having heard a single word of the conversation behind him, but Sisko knew better. He had recognized the look of concern on the ruddy engineer's face when O'Brien had given him the fruit earlier with a helpless shrug as if to say 'there's nothing else I can do, will this help?' Sisko smiled tiredly now. "Chief, what's our ETA to the station?" "One hour, thirty-one minutes, sir," O'Brien replied crisply. "Good," The Commander sighed, then, "Chief?" "Aye, sir?" O'Brien turned around. "Thank you for the grapefruit," Sisko said, adding sincerely, "It was very helpful." The engineer looked taken aback. "Don't mention it, sir." Then he returned his attention to his board with a grateful sigh and smiled to himself. (-|-) * * * * * (-|-) * * * * * (-|-) The Heartbeat's "A Thousand Miles Away". The Avon's "Baby". Elvis Presley's "Love Me Tender". The Dub's "Could This Be Magic?". Shep and The Limelight's "Daddy's Home". Shelley Fabares "Johnny Angel". Johnny Mathis' "Chances Are". The Harptones "On Sunday Afternoon". The Innocent's "A Thousand Stars". Patsy Cline's "Sweet Dreams". The Chantel's "Maybe". The Ink Spots "To Each His Own". The Platter's "My Prayer"...Odo mentally catalogued some of the music he had been stoically dancing to with the Major for the last hour and a half. There were more songs, but he'd missed the first handful of song entries, having been trying without success to dissuade the Major from her inebriated enthusiasm for this dancing idea. Actually, Kira's influence had far less to do with Odo deciding to dance with her than Tiron's provocative method of instruction in what he called "slow-dancing". The constable had swiftly curtailed the lascivious alien's lesson, declaring he understood the basic movements. He had pulled Kira to him with less finesse than the urge to protect her...or perhaps some other indefinable emotion. However, that was a long time back and considering the slow, sensual, intimate execution of this type of dancing, the monotonous mental inventory of song titles was Odo's only defense against the excruciatingly sensual, intimate imagery his mind had stubbornly insisted on providing him with as Kira contentedly sighed and swayed against him, the Klingon d'gaHl having achieved it's intoxicating effects with thorough efficiency. He sighed with relief when Tiron said proudly, "This is the crowning glory of this early twentieth century ensemble. The final song." The Flamingo's "I Only Have Eyes For You" struck up. As the lyrics of this ancient love-song lilted across the hypnotic melody, Odo nearly groaned. __Doesn't this man possess any of that maddening drum-bashing and semi-melodic growling that Doctor Bashir tried to interest me in from the twentieth century Earth? What was that again? Oh, yes...some group named Nirvana.__ It was ironic, he mused as he listened to the words of a centuries-old song of yearning which expressed, with words he could never say so well himself, how he felt about the woman he currently held close. __Were that this was a different...private place. And that I knew, for a certainty that...no__. Odo swallowed and closed his eyes and in a rush of sudden, miserably guilty gratification held Kira closer than before. __Were that you simply felt for me in the way I feel for you...and I wouldn't care if this were a private place or the presentation podium on the Promenade with the entire station's denizen's present__... Odo released a dismal sigh and he pulled back a little as the song continued its powerfully hypnotic influence. "Nerys." His voice was agonized and his eyes held his feelings as he gazed at the Major whose own eyes had drifted closed over an hour before, content in the warm safety of his arms. Tiron, who had been quietly dancing with Kenara, noted this exchange with keen interest. "...Nerys," Odo stopped moving, still trying to get her attention. He swallowed, striving to maintain control of his features. Kira's dark brown eyes opened and she gazed at him with a liquid, tranquil calm. Odo swallowed again and then said with utter sincerity, "Let's get out of here. I'd like to take you home now." She took this abrupt behest without qualms, utterly relaxed by the music and the d'GaHl. "Okay," Kira smiled up at him trustingly and he took her hand in his, turning to Tiron. The alien businessman looked rather depressed, but he seemed sanguine for the first time, his eyes holding neither a simmering jealous rage or burning desire. __So, perhaps not the better man__, Tiron thought now, __but certainly the one she has chosen__... He inclined his head at Odo with a sad look of understanding, of concession. "Go on, Mr. Odo. Take her home." Odo didn't hesitate. He immediately led the Major out of the room and toward the airlock on the yacht. Tiron, meanwhile, stopped dancing as well. The music was winding down anyway, he shrugged negligently, then smiled at the silent Dabo girl. "You know, he really is a lucky man," Tiron informed her. (-|-) * * * * * (-|-) * * * * * (-|-) 2B cont'd Path: mindspring!firehose.mindspring.com!newsfeed.internetmci.com!152.163.199.19!portc03.blue.aol.com!newstf02.news.aol.com!audrey01.news.aol.com!not-for-mail From: odogoddess@aol.com (OdoGoddess) Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Subject: NEW DS9 4/4 [PG] "Good-bye..." (S&D, O/K) Date: 13 Oct 1997 23:49:58 GMT Lines: 144 Message-ID: <19971013234900.TAA20412@ladder01.news.aol.com> NNTP-Posting-Host: ladder01.news.aol.com X-Admin: news@aol.com Organization: AOL http://www.aol.com DISCLAIMER: In part one. ---------------------------------- Good-bye and Good Riddance! by Judith Macquinn (OdoGoddess@aol.com) "You are cleared for docking." The automated docking regulator was balm to Sisko's ears. __This has been the longest, most miserable mission I've taken from this station__. "Chief, set us down next to that yacht," he ordered over the engineer's shoulder, wondering who would own such an obviously lavish pleasure craft. Like most Human males, Sisko truly appreciated a well-built craft. __Whoever it is, they ertainly take good care of it__. "Aye, sir. Setting down now." "Home sweet home, Chief," Sisko murmured without a trace of irony. (-|-) * * * * * (-|-) * * * * * (-|-) Kira slipped and stumbled half-way down the corridor connecting Tiron's yacht to the docking ring airlock. "Sorry," she mumbled against her concerned partner. Then she tripped again and only Odo's swift action saved her from falling; he swept her up and into his arms. Kira's voice was part-inebriated surprise and part-inebriation engendered desire. "*Constable*!" She smiled at Odo as he manfully continued down the passageway, looking about hurriedly, hoping there was no one in the station corridor who would see them. He maneuvered with care past the upraised stanchion which connected the airlock with the docking ring. Odo fully intended to deposit Kira in her cabin, then melt with relief, figuratively speaking as well as literally, in his own cabin. He saw the open corridor ahead which led to the nearest crossover bridge and hurried with his warm, languid burden as if bent on escape. "I'm taking you home, Major. We'll be there soon," he murmured reassuringly. Kira sighed, then lay her head against the hollow of his neck and put her arms around him, burrowing closer, eyes closing in contentment. "Sounds good," she purred, adding sensually, "Sounds *very*, very good..." "Major..." Odo said warningly, thinking, __Soon. We'll get there soon. At this hour, no one should be in the crossover bridge and__ "Constable?" Odo looked up with a sinking feeling of dread to see a bemused Commander Sisko and a very interested-looking Chief O'Brien heading in the opposite direction of the corridor. He swallowed and managed to say, "Commander, er...Mr. O'Brien." Kira suddenly shifted and he adjusted her, pulling her a little closer to him. She nuzzled contentedly against him and sighed. The two Starfleet officers eyed the silky, soft, green dress that clung to Kira's body. Her choice of dinner outfit was somewhat unfortunate, Odo considered. It was slit along the sides and a great deal of thigh was currently revealed. He swallowed again. Before anyone could say anything Kira opened her eyes. "What's stopping you--oh, hello, Commander!" She beamed with bleary pleasure and bestowed a beatific smile on both men, adding happily, "Chief! Oh, you missed a tr..ter...a great dinner. Wonderful wine..." "Good evening, Major," Sisko intoned without a hint of either censure or amusement. O'Brien merely nodded his head. She sighed at them and then said in a regretful, conspiratorial voice, "Sorry, can't talk right now. The constable wants to take me to bed right away." Odo almost winced. His face maintained it's utmost innocent expression. He hoped. "Excuse me, gentlemen," he mumbled urgently, desperation in his tone. "I really need to see the Major to her quarters." "By all means, constable," Sisko inclined his head and gestured for him to go past. The shapeshifter gratefully did so, nearly tripping in his haste. O'Brien watched the pair recede down the corridor. Sisko shook his head. "I suppose things weren't as dull as we thought they'd be while we were away," Miles opined thoughtfully. (-|-) * * * * * (-|-) * * * * * (-|-) Jadzia finished gathering her data discs and then looked about her cabin aboard the Defiant. Everything looked to be in order. Nothing out of place. __Except you__. She frowned at this and then nearly threw the data discs across the room in sudden frustration. She sighed. "Hard isn't it?" Jadzia looked up to see Julian Bashir watching her knowingly from her doorway. She frowned, unhappy, but not wishing to sound waspish. "What's hard, Julian?" "Letting go," Bashir replied simply, adding, "It's the most difficult thing I've had to do as a doctor. Let go. To say good-bye. To understand when my patient just won't be well enough to be happy here anymore and needs to go on." Jadzia frowned at this and then asked him softly, "How do you do it? I mean, when did you learn how?" Bashir's dark, grey eyes grew sad and remote. "I haven't." Abruptly, he shook off his feeling, smiled and said, "Come on, Dax, I feel like a late night bite from the Replimat." She smiled wistfully at her friend. Jadzia's voice was rather sad, but sincere as she nodded at Julian. "That sounds good." "Then let's go," Bashir extended his arm to her and she curled her fingers around his hand, holding it tightly as he walked her out of her room and into the light of the hallway. - the end - ---------------------------------- October 1995. Copyright by Judith Macquinn on story content. Not meant to infringe on copyrights held by Viacom Paramount or any other copyright holders of Star Trek. Please do not reproduce for anything other than personal reading use (including fanzines) without written consent of the author. Comments, questions may be sent to: OdoGoddess@aol.com