DS9 [PG] Letting Down Her Hair (O/K) by Judith Macquinn (OdoGoddess@aol.com) ---------------------------------- Series/Rating: DS9, PG Spoilers: Kira's seventh season hairdo, which everyone can see at Vidiot's site: (www.vidiot.com/st-ds9/images/previews/ds9_551ac.jpg) Archiving: RAFL, my private page ONLY Linking: same as archiving -- please ask first Summary: Odo explains the reason for Kira's new hairdo. NOTE: This is just one possible interpretation and I'm sure TPTB will likely prove me wrong, but the muse blessed me in the middle of the night and needs must I answer her call. ---------------------------------- 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... ---------------------------------- Letting Down Her Hair by Judith Macquinn People wonder I'm quite sure. A few brave souls have inquired about it. Only a few of the Bajorans, mostly those who were in one of the various resistance cells smile wistfully and nod as we pass by. Sometimes they will mouth a Bajoran phrase, but mostly they say nothing, as propriety demands, and yet I still find myself inexplicably exhilarated and uncomfortable at once. Nerys says I am just embarrassed, but she does not understand and I cannot begrudge her this semi-private display of happiness. She is my joy. I watch her now, approaching my office. The heart where I am the head. At least, that is what some of my Bajoran deputies have privately mused when they thought I could not hear them. I have *very* good ears. So in walks my heart. She is the loveliest woman to me. Perhaps this is natural, since she is my chosen, my lover. She blesses me, graces me, with her smile. She has many smiles, but this is my favourite. It says 'good morning'. It fueled many days before we came to be together and it marks me as her dearest friend. I still am her dearest friend, as she is mine. I treasure that about her as much as I cherish our more private intimacies. I find myself oddly moved, exhilarated and, very well, a touch *embarrassed*, at the two small braids painstakenly woven into her hair. It is longer now and those two distracting braids hang alongside her face. On a station with a population in the hundreds, even the thousands when the station is at capacity, and blessed or cursed, depending on ones view, with a plethora of the various races, both Federation, Romulan and even the occasional Dominion ally, it is not at all unusual to see a different hairstyle. Kira is the station commander, a Colonel now, a position I privately felt was long overdue, and no one could begrudge her the choice of doing what she liked with her tresses. She could even shave herself bald. I would not love her less without hair, anymore than I could love her more with it. And yet... The two braids have captured, and held, my attention as she comes to perch before me. Only her morning kiss, another touch of grace I could never have imagined being mine, causes me to blink and meet her loving eyes. I do not know what my own eyes must have said. She occasionally teases me about my "bedroom eyes", but I've no idea what such eyes might disclose. "Don't be embarrassed," she whispers lightly, even though we are alone. This well she knows me, my love. I can't help it. My gaze drops slightly, but I manage to smile and look up at her. "I just can't believe you've ... done this." This time her kiss is longer, deeper, and her gaze sears me with her passion. "Believe it." She hands me a PADD, a signed security report, and stands, heading for the door. She turns at it, the look in her eyes no less passionate, her voice rough with unspoken desire. "I'll see you later ... *constable*." I swallow. I have no need to, but it happened despite myself. Decades of emulation, months of enforced humanity have graced me with a variety of humanoid habits. A shudder runs through me, desire and fear. Both have been close allies since I first realized I loved her. Now they keep me frozen to my chair, recalling the first morning I woke from regeneration to find my beloved's efficient fingers working a tiny braid into her hair. Her smile as I approached was endearingly shy and yet filled with desire. "There's one." was all she said. She did not explain as she hastily fashioned another and then observed the results in the mirror. After this odd display, she took my hand and led me to our breakfast table. She was quite animated as she ate and we discussed the station events and the logistics of our work. I forgot about the braids, assuming it was a new trend she had opted to try. I was never in the resistance. If I had been, my response might have been more auspicious. As it was, we parted after "our morning snuggle" as Nerys liked to describe it, and headed for our respective workstations. Deputy Kanda was the first to comment. He returned from dropping off an incident report to the Colonel, handed me the signed PADD, and nodded in a very odd manner, both respectful and gleeful at once. "My best, sir." "Kanda?" "Los'ko d'kaal." He smiled in reminiscence. "Only ... these hands?" I frowned, attempting a translation of his slippery highlands dialect; Kanda came from Ilvi province, where standard Bajoran was spoken very rapidly and more lyrically than I could ever manage. "Close enough." His smile grew wider and he nodded once more, and exited. Three other similar incidents kept me puzzling out this minor station mystery. It was only when I sat at Quark's, waiting for Nerys after our shifts, that I realized that all four people had been Bajorans, specifically Bajorans in the resistance. And that all four people had seen Kira prior to seeing me that day. The colonel smiled as she exited the turbolift and I watched her, as well as Dol Reni, a shopkeeper in my line of sight, and one of the Bajorans who had repeated the words Kanda had first uttered, except in Dol's more measured Rakantha province tones. Dol beamed, watching her as she headed straight for me, for our table. I also noted the way Nerys walked; erect, almost regal, a proud stride and a pleased expression. Most ignored her after a brief glance; they only saw the station commander. I noticed the woman. I noticed the new ease of movement, and as she slipped into the seat beside me, I noticed those two small, but distracting braids once more. "I grabbed some soup from the replicator in the office," she said a touch apologetically, letting me know we would not be having our usual dinner together. I also noticed her emphasis on 'the' office. 'The', not 'my'. Despite her once avid-desire to be the one who ran the station, she now felt she was merely holding the reins for a man we both missed dearly. A man we both considered a good friend. Thoughts of Sisko fled, however, as she placed a hand on mine. "Would you be terribly disappointed if I just wanted us to go to our quarters ... and go to bed?" I managed to shake my head. I managed to smile at her in a way I hope conveyed my feelings; that I would gladly accede to her wishes. I managed to keep from squeezing her hand and hurrying us both down the Promenade to the turbolift, as I had done half a year ago when we first began our relationship, after I had finally taken her in my arms and showed her how I felt by kissing her ... and she had shown me how she felt by not allowing me to let her go. Her whisper nearly made me forget my noble intentions. "Reminds me of our first time." As I came to learn, some of the same thoughts were going through my love's mind. On the turbolift she lifted my hand to her lips and kissed it, signalling the start of an evening that still fires my imagination. "Los'ko d'kaal." I swallowed. My voice, I knew, was not entirely even. "Only these hands." My beloved nodded, smiled, tears of joy filled her eyes. "Los'ko d'kaal." She repeated, before stepping up and kissing me. It was the 'breep' of the turbolift some moments later that broke us apart, both of us stunned, Nerys breathless and I, burning with equal parts curiousity and desire. We practically ran to our quarters. My shaking hands gained us entrance and she turned to me almost as soon as the doors slid shut. "Los'ko d'kaal." She said one last time before placing my hand alongside her face, atop the braids, I noted. Without prompting I extended my other hand and gently worked one tiny braid loose. As I slowly worked my fingers through the crinkled hair, Nerys sighed. "That was Bareil." I froze. Her eyes held mine. "Los'ko d'kaal." she whispered. I found my place, found my concentration and worked the other braid loose. Her whisper was feather light, oddly breathless, and she trembled as she spoke. "And Shakaar." She took my hands in hers, kissed them once more. "Los'ko d'kaal, Odo. Only *your* hands. They wove their way into my life, but they no longer matter. Only your hands exist for me. And as we weave our lives together, only your hands will ever touch me this way." She slipped my hands to her shoulders and I needed no further instruction. She was in my arms, demanding I claim her. I could do no less. It was much later that Nerys explained to me what a joining entailed in the resistance. Few resistance members joined at all, but those that did rarely had the option of a proper ceremony. The Cardassians did not allow the Bajorans to openly practice their religion. Those in the camps still clung to old traditions, it gave them a little spiritual strength if not much physical comfort, at least that was how I saw it. Those in the resistance were somewhat more liberal, what Kira once called 'more expedient'. If the old ceremonies could not be conducted, then new ones would have to suffice. So the braiding came to be a sign, a pledge, between joined couples in the various resistance cells. They grew their hair long, a gesture of defiance against the Cardassians since they sometimes shaved the Bajorans in the camps and the mines, claiming the need for 'hygiene', but really just an added measure of degredation. It had also been one of the ways of identifying members of the resistance on Bajor, Kira had whispered. Only those who worked on Terok Nor had escaped that particular humiliation, I recalled. Los'ko d'kaal. Most resistance members had lost more than one past love. A pragmatic *and* spiritual people, Bajorans did not disavow past lovers, but considered them part of the tapestry of their lives. Los'ko d'kaal. I understood. I even approved. I blinked. Found myself still holding the PADD, staring unfocused out the doors of my office, lost in my reverie of Bajoran history. Of *our* history. No one noticed. I put the PADD down, found that my hands were trembling. No one noticed that, either. I sat back in my chair and closed my eyes. It was barely the start of my work day. Yet I could already look forward to that night, could see myself entering our quarters, taking my chosen into my arms ... and letting down her hair. ~~ FINIS ~~ ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Completed: September 1998. The characters belong to Viacom/Paramount. The story & situations belong to Judith Macquinn and are not meant to infringe on any legal holders of Star Trek copyright. Please do not reproduce for anything other than personal reading use (including fanzines) without written consent of the author. Comments, questions to: OdoGoddess@aol.com ========================================