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puckyess · 3 years

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You won’t regret it | Pat Moynihan

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“Ten” your friend, Kat says with a smirk on her face.

You vaguely register that her remark is directed at you. “What?”

“That’s the tenth time you’ve locked eyes with Moyni” she says, now nodding over to where he was still watching your group, more specifically, you.

There was a smile on his face and he was still talking to the couple of guys around him, but his eyes never left you. Every time you glanced in his direction that night they had always been on you. But neither of you made a move toward each other. You just continued to share curious looks from opposite ends of the room.

“That is so not true”, you say lamely, turning your attention back to your friend.

Of course she calls you out, claiming that the first time was when you guys had first walked in the door, the second when you were in the kitchen with Mike, then out on the balcony, when Tyce came up and hugged you. She trailed off but she had made her point clear.

You roll your eyes, “Fine, I'll go say hi, but that's it” you tell her. The grin on her face was enough to say she was appeased by your answer, even if it was reluctant.

Taking in a steadying breath and an equally big gulp of your drink, you turn around only to find the boy you were looking for no longer there. A frown settled in your features, a tap on the shoulder has you spinning the other way.

“Hi, I’m Pat” he says, holding his hand out to you.

You look down at his hand with an eyebrow quarked and a hint of a smirk plays at the corner of your mouth. But you extend your own hand nonetheless and it earns a bright smile from him. His hand is warm and as cliche as it sounds, your hand fits perfectly in his. He shakes it up and down and the whole scene makes you giggle.

“You’re laughing at me, what’s so funny” he asks, still not letting go of your hand.

His smile lets you know he’s just teasing and you already feel so comfortable with him. “I’ve just never shaken someone’s hand in the middle of a party” you say motioning to where your hands are still connected.

It’s hard to tell with the glow of the multicolored lights but you swear you see him blush as he releases your hand with a little squeeze. He plays it well, “Well now you have, I’m honored to be your first” he says. and now it’s your turn to blush.

Normally this is where you’d go to look away but something about the way he says it, with a hint of insinuation, a challenge to see if you’ll comment that has you maintaining eye contact as you take a sip of your drink. Who was this guy and how did he manage to have your stomach in knots and make you feel at ease all at the same time?

He asks for your name then and it takes you a second to realize that you haven’t known this man for more than 10 minutes because it feels like you’re already good friends.

“Y/N” you tell him, extending your hand to him with a smirk. He picks up on you mirroring his action from moments ago and tips his head back in an easy laugh that you join him in. You wouldn’t mind hearing that sound more often.

Just as your hands connect once again, one of his teammates barrels over and throws an arm around his shoulders. “Moyni! There you are! We’ve been looking for you” he calls over the noise of the room and based on the eye roll from Pat and the shit eating grin on his buddy’s face, you would guess that his friends knew exactly where he was.

“I’ve been gone for what, all of 5 minutes? Can you guys not handle being alone that long?”

The boy holds his arms up in defense, “Hey don't shoot the messenger, Tyce sent me. You guys are up next”. Pat glances back to where his teammate is waiting at the pong table with a smirk and gives you an apologetic smile.

“It was nice meeting you, Y/N. I’ll see you around” he calls as he’s pulled away. The wink he shoots you over his shoulder replays in your mind as you lay in bed that night.

The next few days pass by pretty uneventful, until Wednesday that is. You’re eating dinner with your roommate, Kat when your phone lights up on the table. You have this thing with your friends where if you’re out to dinner, phone’s stay in the middle of the table so that you can all enjoy the present with each other.

You ignore it, listening to Kat tell you about the plans for that weekend. When it lights up again, you give it a look but your will power holds steady and you continue to listen to your friend. When it lights up a third time though Kat pauses and gives you a look. “Who is that?”

Her guess is as good as yours though. The person who normally would be blowing up your phone is sitting across from you. “I don't know” you say honestly.

She rolls her eyes, making a move for your phone and her face lights up when she reads through the notifications. She hums, “It seems a certain Mr. Moynihan has taken an interest in you”

At the sound of his name your hand shoots out to snatch the phone from her, quickly scanning the screen.

3m ago Twitter: @pmoynihan19 has followed you

2m ago Instagram: @patrickmoynihan_ has requested to follow you

2m ago Instagram: @patrickmoynihan_ wants to send you a message

“The boy works fast” your friend chirps, a smug smile on her face.

You somehow manage to hear her over the sound of your heart beating in your ears. “It’s been four days, I'd hardly call that fast” you say as you swipe up to unlock your phone.

“What’re you doing?” Kat asks, narrowing her eyes.

The alarm in her voice makes your thumb hover over the twitter app. “I’m following him back?”

She grabs your phone again and you know it’s no use to try and get it back so you sit back in your seat with your arms crossed, waiting for her explanation.

“You can't follow him back right away, are you crazy?”

You raise an eyebrow at her, “and why not? You said it yourself, he’s clearly interested. And if I remember correctly, you were the one who was excited for me 30 seconds ago”.

“Well that was before I knew this was the first time he was making contact with you since the party! You said it yourself, four days is hardly fast. Make him wait a day or two before you follow him back” she says, throwing your words back at you.

You think about what she said and while you hated to play games, you did have to say she had a pretty good track record with these kinds of things. Or at least more experience in this area than you did.

“You know I'm right,” she quips, knowing you’re mulling over her words.

“Fine,” you say finally, “I'll wait one day. But that’s it”.

“You’ll thank me later” she smirks over her wine glass.

“You don't even like Chipotle” you muttered to yourself as you pulled into their parking lot. You were one of the few people who was not a Chipotle fiend but for some reason you had been craving it all day long. And after the day you had been having you made the logical decision to not cook tonight.

Unfortunately, your boss had kept you a little longer after work and you hadn’t been able to beat the dinner rush like you had hoped you would. You let out a sigh, taking your place in line alongside the slew of college kids looking for their fix. With the line moving unbelievably slow, you pull out your phone and answer a few texts and then aimlessly catch up on social media.

“Burrito or Bowl?” the worker asks you and you tuck your phone away, reciting your order.

When it comes time to pay you go to hand him your card but he shakes his head, “You’re all set” he says, sliding your bowl across the counter. “Moyni already paid for you”.

You look down at the shiny silver lid and there’s a simple message scrawled on the lid “hi Y/N :) - Pat”.

Your card is still in the air and your jaw is practically on the floor. “How…”

“He’s over there,” he says motioning over to a table. Your eyes follow and soon you’re walking over toward a table full of hockey players.

When he spots you his face lights up and he removes himself from the group. “I shouldn’t have bought your Chipotle” he tells you and your smile falls. Was this some kind of joke?

“What?”

“I'm mad at you ya know” he continues, but he wears a smile that says otherwise.

He gives you a little nudge with his arm, hands in his pockets. “I followed your socials, why didn’t you follow me back? Did you see my message too?” he asks, completely calling you out.

You can hear some of the guys snickering and you can't tell if it’s for your benefit or his, but it makes you extremely aware of your current situation. Curse your friend for getting you into this, if you had just followed him back last night this wouldn't be happening.

Lie and deny chants the little devil sitting on your shoulder. “I haven't been on social media lately” you offer lamely.

“That’s a lie, you were just on instagram” he states, his smile growing wider. He was clearly enjoying watching you squirm.

Your face starts to flush, getting caught in your own lie. “How do you know?”

He reaches up and taps the side of his glasses with his finger, which you have to say make him look even more attractive if that was possible.

You tip your head back and groan. You were still wearing your bluelight glasses from work. You wore them so often these days that you forgot you were wearing them at all. “You can see the reflection huh?”

His smile is softer now as he nods. “I could see you scrolling from a mile away and still not following me back” he tsks.

“I was advised not to,” you tell him honestly, throwing your friend under the bus.

“By who? It was Kat wasn't it? I'm going to have to have a word with her'' he teases.

“You and me both” you mumble.

He laughs and you’re relieved that he’s not mad or annoyed at your foolishness.

“I was hoping the Chipotle might persuade you,” he jokes.

“Thank you for this” you say, motioning to the bowl in your hand, “I really needed this today”.

A hint of color dusts his cheeks and then they lift into yet another warm smile as he says, “of course. I’ll let you go eat it while it’s still warm”.

You send one last thank you his way and then reluctantly walk away.

“Remember to follow me back, Y/N! You won't regret it!” he calls after you as you walk out the door.

Your friend was going to hear it for this one.

Pat’s words echo in your ears as you get ready for bed that night. “You wont’ regret it”. A cute, friendly, easy going hockey player; he had “regret” written all over him. But there was also something else there, something that made you feel excited and comfortable to be yourself. And that’s what had you throwing caution to the wind when you hit the follow button on twitter and then again on instagram.

You chewed on your lip as you opened his DM and chuckled at his message. It was simple, yet effective.

Hi, I’m Pat

🤝

You type out an equally short response.

Y/N

🤝

The bubbles pop up immediately.

It took you long enough

You shook your head as you read it, the boy was honest you had to give him that. You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t throw a little sarcasm in there, chirping his incredibly fast response was a good start.

I could say the same to you

The bubbles pop up again and then disappear and you hope that he catches your sarcasm and doesn't just think you’re being rude.

I could reply slower if that’s really what you want…

You hate that you can hear him saying it, were you really falling this fast?

Not at all.

Yes, yes you were.

You lean against the counter with your mug, letting the warm steam fan your face. “Alright, why are you looking at me like that?” you ask Kat finally.

“Well I was going to say someone’s in an awfully good mood today, but I take it back. You do realize today is Friday right?”

You ignore her comment, but answer her question. “I do, I called off today”.

“And why is that?” she asks. She gets a weird smile on her face like she knows something you don’t and you don’t like it.

You narrow your eyes on her suspiciously. “What’s going on? Do you have something you need to tell me?”

She jumps off the couch, excited all of a sudden. “Do YOU have something you need to tell ME?”

“What? No! Seriously what’s up?”

She practically explodes then. “Were you with Moyni last night?”

You flush at the mere thought of that. No you weren’t with him in the sense that she meant, but had you spent the wee hours of the night talking to him? Maybe.

She catches it and screeches. “I knew it! I told Tyce this morning and he didn’t believe me-”

You cut her off in the middle of her excited rant, “Wait, you what?”

She takes a breath then and backtracks, still pacing around the apartment. “I was facetiming Tyce this morning and Moyni walked in all smiley asking for something and T chirped him asking how he was in such a good mood when he was up so late last night and asked who he was talking to. And boy did he blush like you just did”, she was down right gleeful telling the story.

“Anyway, Moyni tried to deny it, but Tyce was like ‘no dude I could hear you talking through the wall so who was it’. And he wouldn't say. And that’s when I was like wait, I didn’t hear you leave for work today and you never miss so you had to have had a long night and so I told Tyce I bet she was over there last night and now you’re all bright eyed and bushy tailed, like glowing actually and that only comes from one thing…”

By the time she finished her storytelling you were feeding off her energy. “Ok that is so NOT what happened” you laugh at the disappointed look on her face, “But. He DID ask me to come to his game tonight”. You try to act casual but the minute she lets out a squeal, you do too. You can’t believe you had become one of those girls, but you were just so damn happy.

“What?! When?! How?! Ok, rewind, spill!” She finally settles herself on the couch, somewhat patiently waiting for you to dish out the details of last night.

Between the lack of sleep and the adrenaline coursing through your veins all night, your nerves were shot. Pat and Tyce had managed to get yours and Kat’s seats not only next to each other, but with the best of views of both the ice and them. Watching warmups was fun, seeing the guys interact and show off a bit for your own personal entertainment.

The game delivered too. The goofiness, relaxed form the guys had taken during warmups was gone as their competitive sides came out and they battled for the win. Having someone to cheer for on the ice and your best friend by your side made it that much better. You even caught Pat glance up into your section once or twice and you could see that smile even through his cage.

In all it was the perfect night but this side, well you’ve never done this side of it before. You’ve never been on the side that waits for a player after the game. You’ve never been part of that group.

You stood next to Kat as she easily mingled with some of the girls and players that had formed a group near you. You only really knew Tyce and Parker and neither of them were part of the circle.

Groups had never really been your thing, you were more of a listener than someone who could handle the spotlight. You were often talked over or couldn’t really get your words out the way you wanted to so you kept quiet. In your usual friend group it was fine, you still felt part of the group, but tonight not so much.

Everyone around you seemed to know each other and had no problem interacting. You watch as the conversation bounces from person to person until you almost zone out.

That all changes when Pat makes his way into the group. He seems to be looking for someone, maybe even you but your small frame is hidden behind the wall of guys. You catch the warm smile he throws at you across the group of people engaged in conversation and asks if you saw his goal, a moment that you did in fact see and you respond without hesitation.

It’s like he flips a switch in you. You’re no longer uncomfortable on the outskirts with his attention on you. It’s as if there’s not a whole conversation going on around you with the way he talks to you, singling you out in the best way.

He nods his head to the side, motioning for you to follow him. “This is better, it’s quieter and you looked like you could use a break” he jokes once you’ve moved away from the noise of the group.

You grimace at whatever must’ve given you away. “I looked that bad huh?” you tease him.

He doesn't comment, just shrugs. “Don’t get me wrong, I love being around everyone and the energy is great but I also know that sometimes after a whole night of being wound up it can be nice to step away for a bit”

His response surprises you, you weren’t expecting something so honest and sentimental. “Thank you for that. It was a pretty crazy night. Fun, but crazy!”

At that he grins. “The boys were pretty chippy tonight yeah? There’s a little extra bite there when we play BC”.

“I could tell, you were really running your mouth out there”

He laughs, “I was doing no such thing”

“So all that pushing and shoving happened for no reason? You were such an instigator, not saying it’s a bad thing but you should own up”

“Yeah Moyni, own up” Tyce says siddling up next to him.

Pat just shakes his head. “Butt out Tycer you don't even know what we’re talking about”.

“Well of course I don't, how could I when you two wandered off to have your own little conversation” he points out with a smirk.

Pat catches you rolling your eyes at him and starts to laugh. “Relax, Y/N here was just telling me what a loud mouth I have and now she knows I get it from my roommate” he says, throwing an arm around you and pulling you into him, “Isn’t that right Y/N?”

You were very aware of the weight of his arm on your shoulders as well as the heat of his still warm body with yours turned into him. It didn't help the warmth that was spreading across your face nor did the sly smiles from both of your roommates.

“Those weren't my exact words, Pat” you said poking his side.

The movement of him reacting to your little jab has him pulling you further into him to where you have to put a hand on his chest to keep from completely falling into him. You can feel his heart beating surprisingly fast and you look up at him.

He gives you a soft smile and the whole moment is ruined by Tyce making gagging sounds and Kat hitting him. “Ow! What was that for?” he asks obliviously.

She rolls her eyes. “You are such an ass sometimes, Tyce. Let the kids have their moment, come on”. She turns to you and Pat, “You’ll have to excuse my child of a boyfriend” she says glaring at Tyce and pulling him away from you two.

Pat laughs it off, “Well then… What do you say to doing this all over tomorrow for game 2?”

“Hmmm. I think I can swing that”

“You won’t regret it,” he says, giving you a squeeze.

Somehow Pat managed to weasel his way into different parts of your life. What started as showing up to his games turned into hanging out after, going out to party on Saturday turned into nights in, homework sessions turned into brunch dates. You hung out whenever your schedules allowed but less that, there was no contact in between. It left you feeling confused until you were with him again and then you forgot all about it.

“Are you home yet?”

“No, Pat, for the tenth time; I’m on my way home from the gym. You’re a country away from me right now, why do you care when I’m home? Aren’t you supposed to be playing hockey or something?” you tease him, wedging the phone between your shoulder and the side of your face.

“I thought you went to the gym right after work on Wednesdays? It’s like 7 o'clock there now isn't it?” he asks confused.

You chuckle into the phone as you get out of the car and grab your bag. “Should I be worried you know my schedule?”

“You always make me wait after practice to get food with you after your workout on Wednesdays, thank you very much. That’s how I know your schedule. You’re also just a very predictable human” he chirps you right back.

“Stop rolling your eyes at me” he says almost as if on cue.

“Like I said, a country away and you’re still a pain in my ass, Pat” and just like he could see you rolling your eyes at him, he can see your smile too.

“I actually do have to go to practice, there’s something waiting for you when you get home!” he rushes and then hangs up without even giving you the chance to say goodbye.

You sigh as you unlock your door. You really did miss him and you really needed to get a grip. He had been gone less than a week and you were already moping...moping over someone who wasn’t even yours to mope over.

“You want to tell me how you manage to have someone so wrapped around your finger from thousands of miles away?” Kat’s voice makes you jump as she walks into the kitchen with you.

“What?” you ask her confused.

There’s a grin on her face as she nods to the island where there’s a Chick-fil-a bag and a card waiting for you.

“Ohmygod, he didn’t”

“Ohhh, but he did! Now open it, you’re lucky I haven’t read it already”. She’s almost more excited than you are.

You were trying to not get worked up over what the little note could possibly say, but it was hard not to when he had clearly been excited about it all day- and made a point to ask you about it multiple times that day.

“Hi, Y/N, you’re halfway there! Have some nugs for me and remember...treat yo self! I’ll see you soon. - Yours, Pat”

You’re smiling like an idiot as you read the words, his words over and over.

“What does it say? You know what, just give it to me” she says, snatching the small piece of paper from you.

“Awhhhh what does it mean? Halfway to what?”

You couldn’t get rid of the grin on your face if you tried. “Halfway through the week. Pat and I always get dinner after his practice and my workout on Wednesdays to celebrate.”

“Well shit, where’s my Moyni? I’m going to have to train Tyce better. What about the ‘treat yo self’? Is that an inside joke too?”

You shake your head remembering the first time it came up. “He asked me where I wanted to go and for once I was actually able to make a decision and I chose Chic-fil-a because I was craving it. He gave me a hard time about choosing fried chicken right after I had worked out and I waved a nugget in his face before popping it in my mouth and saying I earned it and was going to treat myself. It’s dumb…” you trail off.

“It’s not dumb if it makes you smile like that. I’m just mad he didn’t send any for me”.

“How did he get it here if you didn’t pick it up?”

“He sent Tyce over with the bag and card before you got here” she answers.

“It sounds like it’s Tyce you should be mad at” you point out.

She agrees and runs off to her room to reprimand him.

You sit down with your bag and note and take a selfie to send him. I’m one happy girl. The only thing missing is you.

After you send it, you wonder if maybe it’s too much and then you remember that he arranged for his teammate to deliver you chicken nuggets and a handwritten note simply because it was your Wednesday tradition and you feel like it was just right.

Pat’s giddy mood carries into practice and overflows once he gets back to the locker room and checks his phone for any indication that you had gotten his surprise. He had told Tyce to drop it off and was going to kill him if he didn’t follow through.

When your smiling face holding up both the red and white bag and the little note fills his screen, he can’t help but match your grin.

I’m one happy girl. The only thing missing is you.

- The nuggets are my replacement! At least they can’t chirp you for ruining your workout (;

Haha I would take a few chirps to have you sitting across from me.

- We both know you wouldn’t be able to handle that 😅

Ummm false. But thank you! Tyce is a good messenger

- You didn’t think just because I was in a different country I’d forget about our Wednesday tradition, now did you?

Never.

“What’s got you smiling at your phone like that, Moyni? Could it be your….girlfriend?” Trevor shouts extra loud, making sure the locker room hears him, earning some chuckles and shouts from the guys.

Pat doesn’t embarrass easily, he just rolls his eyes at his teammate. “Don’t have a girlfriend, Z”

The couple guys around him laugh at his denial and Trevor steps in front of him, stomping his foot with his hands on his hips. “Give me the phone, Moyni”

Pat stops untying his skates and looks up to see a very sassy Trevor Zegras waiting on his demand. “Hand it over, Mister Moynihan”.

Pat shakes his head, but hands over his phone. He knew Trevor was immature enough to not let up and honestly he wasn’t ashamed of anything that was said.

Surprisingly he doesn’t broadcast the messages to the locker room like Pat was sure he would. Instead, it was a lot of mumbling as he read through what had his buddy all keyed up.

“Mhmm”

“Yup”

“I see”

Finally he handed the phone back to Pat and clapped him on the shoulder. “Well, buddy. I’m afraid you are one sick puppy”.

Trevor was known for saying things that just didn’t make sense and this definitely made the list. “Dude what? That’s what you got from my messages? Were you looking at the right thing?”

“Yup. One love sick puppy” is all he quips before walking away

You had been on pins and needles all day and you knew exactly why- the World Juniors final roster was supposed to be announced anytime now.

You knew in your heart that Pat would make the team but it would make you both feel a helluva lot better if you could see it in writing, this year especially. Not only had he not made it last year but you swore every other day you saw someone was getting sent home because of the virus. It didn’t make dealing with the waiting process any easier.

In the few texts and facetimes Pat had been able to squeeze in since camp started, you both carried positive energy but you could tell he was holding back. He would light up when he talked about the guys and odd little activities they were required to participate in like superlative voting and bob ross painting nights. You knew he was having a blast being back with his old buddies, especially after all of the quarantine and protocols they had to go through.

There was something else there though whenever you brought up how he was doing personally. Pat was a positive guy, the glue guy of the locker room. He liked to keep things lighthearted and loved to make everyone around him smile. So when his own smile doesn't quite reach his eyes you know something is up.

“You’re holding out on me, Pat. What’s up?”

“Nothing’s up, I just missed you”.

“I know what you’re trying to do here, but telling me you miss me is not going to distract me from the fact that you keep dancing around my question,” you try to give him a little grin but the way he’s acting makes you worry.

“Do you know when the roster comes out?”

He lets out a sigh and rolls over from his back to his stomach, hugging the pillow and propping the camera up again. His hair is adorably messed up and his glasses make him look incredibly soft and boyfriend like. You almost forget you even asked him anything as you memorize him through the screen until his voice cracks through the silence.

“I don’t know if I want to know when it comes out” he admits.

His answer confuses you. “Why would you not want to know?”

“Because then this all could come to an end and I don't want it to end”.

Your eyebrows furrow and you frown at him. “What do you mean, Pat? All of what and why is it ending?”

“This”, he says motioning with his arm, as if that’s supposed to help you. “Camp, the guys, this team. I don’t want it to be over”.

Your expression softens when you finally realize what he was talking about and it breaks your heart.

“Pat”.

“What if I don’t make it again this year, Y/N?” he asks quietly, almost as if he’s afraid if he says it too loud it might come true.

“Come on, Pat, you know that’s not going to happen. You’re going to make the team.” You don’t know how you can convince him to not doubt himself because if you were being honest, you had thought he was a lock to make it last year, before you even knew him, and he had been cut.

As if hearing your thoughts he says, “yeah, but I thought I would make it last year too and that backfired and there’s even better players here this year”

“Where is the confident guy that stuck his hand out in the middle of a party to introduce himself? The guy that has a smile or a smirk on his face 100% of the time? I miss him. You’re allowed to have doubts and worries, but not on this. I won’t have it. You are going to make this team Patrick Moynihan, I believe in you bub”.

He’s silent for a moment too long and you think maybe you stepped over a line somewhere, but then that smile that you love so much makes an appearance.

“Wow, you’re going soft on me, Y/N”

You roll your eyes, but your grin matches his, “As much as I said I wanted to see that smirk of yours…”

At that he lets out a chuckle and your Pat is back. “Really though, thank you. You make a pretty good glue guy with that pep talk.”

“That’s what I’m here for. Now get to bed, Mister. You’ve got a big day tomorrow”.

Apparently your speech had worked because he says, “Call me tomorrow, you wont regret it”

Exactly 12 hours later you’re impatiently doing just that. “Come on, Pat, answer your damn phone”.

“Did you need something?” and even almost 3,000 miles away you can see the way the right side of his pulls up into a smirk that drives you crazy.

“Do you have something to tell me?” you drawl out, despite the burst of energy you had.

He hums in response. “Nope. Can’t think of anything”.

“Pat you made the team!” you practically scream into the phone, too excited to play his games. You chant it as you jump around your room, probably pissing off your downstairs neighbors to no end but you didn’t even care.

He laughs at how excited you are and you can hear how much lighter it sounds from last night.

It’s like he reads your mind because he says, “you’re going to royally piss off your neighbors if you keep jumping around like that”

“I don’t care, you made the damn team, Pat! I’m so happy for you, so proud of you. I hate that I can’t actually be there with you”. And it was true. You hadn’t noticed how strong your...whatever it was with Pat had grown, how close you two had become until he was gone. You hadn't even been apart from him for 2 weeks yet and yet you’re pretty sure you missed him the second you sent him off on his way to Michigan. And now that he made the team, you wouldn't see him for at least another month.

“I know, I wish you were here with me too. You’d love it here.”

You’re surprised at his admission, you had expected him to chirp you for being soft again but his comment was anything but and you have to pull yourself together because you absolutely cannot let him see you tear up or he would definitely deliver on that chirp.

“Well as much as I want to see you, I better not see you until next year”

He scrunches up his nose at that. “It sounds so long when you say it like that”. It almost sounds like he’s whining and for once you actually love the sound of it.

“You better bring me a souvenir too. I like gold in case you were wondering”.

“I’m sure you do”

“I can always ask Zegras” you tease.

“You’re lucky you’re a country away from me, Y/N” he threatens and you swear his voice is three levels deeper but you try to not let him see the way it’s affecting you.

“And what is it exactly that you’d do, Pat”

“You’ll see. You might want to take it back though, you’ll regret it if you don’t”. His words are a contrast to the ones he left you with last night, a promise and a threat all rolled into one.

Missing Pat made the anticipation for World Juniors that much better. The content that USA was pushing was something you looked forward to seeing everyday. You loved getting a glimpse into the guys Pat had history with and could see why he had formed such a bond with them.

The newest little piece of the team media was an interview from Landon Slaggert. With him being Pat’s roommate for the duration of their tournament, you had gotten to know him pretty well. He would usually pop into Pat’s facetimes and give him a hard time for a few minutes before giving him the room.

The interview was pretty standard, asking a little bit about his draft experience, the hurdles of the college season, college in general, but then it turned interesting.

“So what’s one thing you learned about your roommate, Patrick Moynihan, that you didn't know before having spent so much time with him in this setting?”

Slaggert gets a big grin on his face and now your interest is piqued.

“Well I knew him pretty well before since we were teammates in the NTDP program, uh but I probably figured out that he’s more of a girlfriend guy than he is a single guy. He likes having a girlfriend, so that’s one thing I learned about him”.

To say you were not expecting to hear that response was an understatement. Your jaw fell on the floor and your heart followed. Girlfriend guy? Who the hell was his girlfriend. You didn’t know whether to feel pissed or sad, but settled on hurt.

You shook your head at yourself and willed the tears welling in your eyes to go away. You should’ve known that after months of being with him and never actually being with him that he was never yours. This information shouldn’t even affect you, much less hurt you and yet it did.

The worst part was he hadn’t even told you about her. You thought you would at least give yourself credit as being an important person in his life, someone that you at least had shared almost everything with. And he hadn’t bothered to share this huge part of him with you. The more you thought about it, the more worked up you got.

It’s like he could sense he was in trouble because your phone lights up with his face. You’re in no state to talk to him, so you hit ignore. He was persistent you had to give him that as he gave it five more tries followed by a slew of text messages that ranged from “why are you ignoring me” to ok “im getting pissed”.

Hah. He was getting pissed, what did he have to be upset about. He finally gives it a rest even though part of you wishes he hadn't.

The words “you won't regret it” taunted you. You knew better and played with fire anyway.

“Damnit Pat'' you curse him as he stumbles and loses the puck. It seemed that every time the puck was anywhere near his stick tonight he’d turn it over. He wasn’t himself out there. He was trying to overcompensate in all the wrong places and it was noticeable.

With no fans in the stands you could hear him getting an earful when he hopped back over the boards. “Next shift Pat, next shift” you mumbled like he could hear you.

The period couldn’t end soon enough after back to back unanswered goals from Germany. You watched as the boys made a beeline for the locker room, one in particular making your heart squeeze as he hung his head.

As mixed up as you were about your emotions for him, he was still one of your closest friends and you knew he was blaming himself for the mistakes that had led to chances and goals. He was normally the guy to lift everyone up and keep them focused on the prize. You knew better than anyone how his energy affected a room. It was hard to see him like this, you only hoped he would find it in himself to get through the last period.

With your heart in your throat, you willed the third period to be better for him. It could have been worse but it still wasn't pretty. He was only in the box once but he didn't see the ice too much after that. You didn’t really blame the coach on that one with Pat playing more as a liability tonight than someone who could help them win the game. Regardless, you saw the way his shoulders slumped on the bench despite doing his best to congratulate his teammates.

Luckily USA ended up pulling out the win. As selfish as it was, you felt like you had something to do with the way Pat played tonight and you knew you needed to fix things with him. It was unfair for you to ignore someone who had no idea there were unsaid expectations.

When the phone rings more than the usual three it takes him to answer, you begin to worry.

“So now you want to talk to me? Save yourself the lecture, Y/N I'm not in the mood.”

You knew you deserved it, but it was the first time he was anything but nice to you and it made you flinch.

He sighs. “M’sorry, I’m just not having the best time lately” he apologies.

You can hear how tired he is and you would bet that he's running his hand through his hair and over his face.

“Does it have anything to do with the game?”

His end of the phone is silent. You knew he didn’t necessarily prefer to talk about losses even though they claimed his brain.

“I didn't think you’d watch the game”

“Well you must not know me then. I’d never miss one of your games”

“Even when you’re mad at me?”

“I’m not mad, Pat. Not at you anyway.”

“Well you could’ve fooled me. Who are you mad at then if it’s not me? Because you’ve been completely ignoring me and I don’t even know why. I don’t know how I’ve managed to piss you off 3000 miles away”

“I’m not mad at you, Pat! You’ve done nothing wrong. I’m mad at myself.”

His mood instantly shifts when he hears that. He’s always been such a good listener and shoulder for you to lean on.

“Why is that? What’s going on honey? Hang up the phone and Facetime me. I need to see you.”

Hearing the pet name makes your heart ache even more than it already does and makes you equally as confused. You have to pull the phone away from your ear just so that he doesn't hear your sharp intake of breath as you grasp for any kind of solid ground, your head spinning. Your phone begins to vibrate against your chest like it’s trying to soothe your heart.

“Hey, Y/N, look at me. Are you okay?”

For the first time since meeting him at that party months ago, you can't bring yourself to look at him.

Even without seeing his face you know his lips are turned down into a frown and his eyes are full of concern. The loaded question hangs in the air, waiting to tip the balance of your life and this relationship. How could you be okay when the person you felt the most for had someone else, someone he hadn't even bothered to tell you about.

“When were you going to tell me you had a girlfriend?” you ask him, trying to muster a smile for his benefit but there’s so much hurt in your voice and sadness in your eyes that there’s no use.

You expect him to play it off, act like he was going to tell you all along. What you don’t expect is for him to turn red and start scratching the back of his neck. And suddenly you have a very bad feeling. If he was acting like this, it must be more serious than you thought.

“What? What girlfriend would you be referring to now?”

He’s acting goofy and it’s not adding up. Your eyes narrow in on him through the screen. What was he up to?

“The girlfriend that was mentioned by your roommate in an interview? Are you seriously going to keep lying? It’s bad enough that you didn’t tell me about her in the first place”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, come again?” He still had that stupid look on his face like he was in on some big secret and it was really starting to aggravate you.

“The interview of Landon that USA posted. They asked him if he learned anything new about his roommate and the first thing he came up with was how you’re some big girlfriend guy, Pat. So cut the crap, who is she?” you deadpan.

He scoots closer to the camera, still with that smug look and says “He did what now?”

Apparently you had to spell it out for him. “Do you have a girlfriend or not, Pat? Why are you dancing around the question?”

“No, I don’t have a girlfriend. Yet.” he tells you, rocking back in his chair.

Now you were more confused than ever. “What?”

“Unless you want to change that?” he pauses, waiting for you to connect the dots. “You see, I’ve been waiting and waiting on this girl to finally give me a chance but I couldn’t tell if she was interested in me. Until now, when she’s 3000 miles away from me and is pissed over a comment Slaggs made in an interview about a girlfriend that I don’t even have.”

You knew he was saying words and all the right ones too, but you just couldn’t comprehend what he was actually saying. So you echo the only word your brain seemed to know, “What?”

“It’s you, Y/N! You’re the girl.” he laughs.

“But….since when? When did you know?”

“Since the night I shook your hand at that party. All the guys knew I had the biggest thing for you, they’ve been giving me a hard time for not making a move.”

“That was the first night we officially met” You said finally putting it all together, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t know how you felt and we were good friends, I didn’t want to mess that up” he shrugs like it’s no big deal.

You sit back in your own seat now and take in all that he’s revealed in the last few minutes. This much you could understand because it’s exactly why you hadn’t said anything yourself.

“So Slaggs outed your secret huh” you tease him and he’s relieved to see a smile finally grace your face.

“I really didn't know about the interview, but I guess I’m going to have to thank him for that later”

You raise your eyebrow at him and even in another country he can see the troublemaker gleam to your eyes. “Thank him? You think this ends well for you, bud?”

He looks way too smug for your liking, “Of course it does, I’ve finally got the girl of my dreams and I’m on my way to a gold medal”

“And what makes you so sure that I’m yours”

“Just say yes, Y/N. You won’t regret it”.

#pat moynihan #trevor zegras #providence college

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kiranxrys · 4 years

Text

hmm... ds9 characters by which kate bush song i think they are:

julian - the man with the child in his eyes

kira - hounds of love

jadzia - jig of life

ezri - cloudbusting

garak - waking the witch

sisko - hello earth

miles - this woman’s work

worf - army dreamers

nog - running up that hill

jake - breathing

odo - suspended in gaffa

quark - wuthering heights

and actually you know what not that anyone cares but over 1000 words of ridiculous over-analyzing explanations under the cut bc i feel like it

julian - the man with the child in his eyes

bush wrote the song about a man in whom a younger protagonist notices a youthful quality, a sort of childlike awe for the world. this really speaks to me about julian’s character, who seems to repress this side of himself throughout the show in order to earn the respect of others. to me he really is “the man with the child in his eyes”. it’s also a very sweet and loving song that reflects the way i feel about his character.

kira - hounds of love

hounds of love definitely has a more romantic leaning, filled with a girl’s story from uncertainty about love to embracing it joyfully. analyzing this from kira’s perspective, though, to me this might be more of a story about her uncertainty with vulnerability, “what was following [her]” that she was “hiding from” being her trauma and her past. the song is upbeat and gives the sense of entering a new, exciting world filled with possibility. that’s kira’s path of recovery starting from the beginning of the story to me. particularly bush’s final cries of “i need love” ring true for me for kira. she is entirely mature and strong and experienced at the start of ds9. her journey is about learning to let go.

jadzia - jig of life

jadzia’s bush song being jig of life is a bit ironic, in a sense, as jig of life is about survival. jig of life is about fighting to let your future self live even when the present seems hopeless. maybe that’s what makes it so powerful to me as a song for jadzia. the song describes the future life and children she never got to have (or maybe did, depending on your AU ideas). the desperate cry of jig of life’s protagonist’s future self “never, never, never, never, never let me go! [...] let me live!”, as well as the song’s exploration of time and different versions of oneself really speaks to me for jadzia’s character.

ezri - cloudbusting

what initially drew me to this song in ezri’s regard was its strange optimism given the subject matter. without getting into the historical specifics, bush wrote the song from the perspective of the son of a psychoanalyst, exploring the memories of his eccentric and troubled father. looking more closely, i would say the concept of having someone else “here in my head” connects to her struggles with becoming joined to the dax symbiot. i like the idea how “everytime it rains” (every time things get dark) that voice is there for her “like the sun coming out”. the declaration “i just know that something good is going to happen” rings true for me for ezri.

garak - waking the witch

waking the witch is one of bush’s weirder songs, it’s very disjointed and confused in a striking kind of way, a stage in bush’s story of a girl drowning and lost at sea. the protagonist in waking the witch is this girl who, in a strange hallucination, finds herself on trial for witchcraft. the song deals with guilt and innocence as a threatening, demonic voice presses the protagonist for a confession. several key emotions connect this song with garak for me - guilt, paranoia, fear, hopelessness as she finds “a stone around [her] leg” that drags her down. “i question your innocence”, the voice tells her. “guilty, guilty, guilty!” declare the court. “well, are you responsible for your actions?” the voice asks. meanwhile the protagonist pleads (“bless me father for i have sinned” - perhaps a connection to tain, “help me, help me baby, talk to me, talk to me, please talk to me” - this terrified desperation reminds me of garak in his darkest moments). waking the witch to me represents garak’s inner turmoil and sense of guilt.

sisko - hello earth

oof, hello earth. this song is a true masterpiece. like waking the witch and jig of life, it’s a part of the story of the drowning girl. hello earth is towards the end of the story, as she struggles to survive. the awe for the world and the sense of detachment between the protagonist and her physical universe in the song reminds me of sisko’s connection to the prophets. he “[watches] storms start to form over” his country (in this case, ds9, bajor, the alpha quadrant) but “can’t do anything, just watch them swing with the wind out to sea”. when voices demand of the protagonist to “get out of the waves, get out of the water”, to me that is benjamin’s loved ones pleading with him to return from the figurative world of the prophets. “murderer! murderer of calm!” voices accuse. i interpret this as sisko’s guilt over the regrettable things he has had do over the years, such as the events of in the pale moonlight. the song ends with a phrase, spoken by bush in german - “deeper, deeper, somewhere in the depth there is light”. sisko has this determined optimism, this conviction in what he stands for and what he can achieve.

miles - this woman’s work

this woman’s work is a song in which a husband fears for his wife as she gives birth to their baby, looking back on their time together and finding regret. you can see the connection here. but while the idea of “i know you have a little life in you yet, i know you have a lot of strength left” can be read as being directed at keiko, i think it can also apply to miles himself. it may be a bit of a joke, but christ, miles has gone through the most - ‘hard time’, especially, comes to mind. even before the dominion war, he’s been through horrific conflict, but he still holds on and keeps fighting with his determined attitude. he’s a repressed person. “[he] should be crying but [he] just can’t let it show”. he’s still clinging to life, even after all this time.

worf - army dreamers

army dreamers is a war song. it’s also a war song about a younger soldier, told from the perspective of his mother, who has died. she imagines what her son could’ve been, wondering what she could’ve done to save him from this fate. on one hand, this does connect for me to worf’s continuous ‘loss’ (of both people and things) throughout his time in both tng and ds9. but i think in a way worf also is, or is afraid of being, the young soldier in the story. army dreamers connects to klingon warriorship and the horrific loss of war - “oh, what a waste of all them army dreamers”. of any kate bush song, this was the one in which i felt him the most.

nog - running up that hill

god, running up that hill. truly peak kate bush. there’s a lot here that i connect to nog. first of all, running up that hill is a song that carries so much weight, seems to touch upon themes of great burdens and struggles, something nog certainly experiences. but bush’s intended meaning with the song was a reflection upon how people from different groups (here men and women) struggle to understand each other, and if only they could “get [god] to swap [their] places”. this speaks to me of nog’s experience as a ferengi, the first ferengi in starfleet. if only those around him could understand him better - this goes both for being ferengi and for being traumatized - he would be running up that hill “with no problems”.

jake - breathing

breathing is one of my favourite bush songs of all time. it’s a true masterpiece. here she takes on the persona of a baby in its mother’s womb, aware of a world outside that has descended into nuclear destruction and the horrors former generations have inflicted upon the earth. jake is the face of the next generation in ds9, growing from child to adult, but if the dominion war goes wrong, what world will he be left with by those who came before? at the end of breathing, bush’s protagonist, joined by other voices, desperately pleads with those above - “oh, god, please leave us something to breathe!”. i connect this song to jake’s place as this next generation, as well as (unlike nog) an outsider in the war.

odo - suspended in gaffa

i deliberated for a long time about which kate bush song could fit odo’s story. i chose suspended in gaffa because it explores a concept of experiencing something wondrous (in this case, witnessing god) and then not being able to experience it again, trapped by one’s unworthiness. the song’s protagonist is desperate to be rewarded - “can i have it all now?” i connect this with odo’s intrinsic desire and struggle to experience the great link, to be with his people, as well as other aspects like to be accepted by others and at peace with himself.

quark - wuthering heights

yeah.

#did i really just write 1.5k of analyzing how kate bush lyrics connect to star trek lmao #if you (like most people) don't listen to kate bush IM SORRY but i hope at least you found this interesting dsjksjksk #just trust that i'm right on this okay #ds9 #analysis #cami.txt

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oathkeeper-of-tarth · 4 years

Text

After The Dawn

Hello, hello! I am indeed still around, and sometimes even do non-work-related stuff. About, oh, 2 years ago, this got sent in as a prompt, so have a little 4 times + 1 thing, for the occasion of me processing my recent DS9 comfort-rewatch (by which I of course mean “mostly spending a lot of time gazing adoringly at Kira Nerys and crying”). As far as I recall, I’ve never actually posted anything from my giant decade plus WIP pile of Trek stuff, so this is a first - I hope it doesn’t disappoint.

The prompt was “five different sunlights”. So here are five snapshots of Kira Nerys from joining the resistance to DS9 and beyond, ~4400 words. Veers into Kira/Jadzia because I’m hilariously predictable. Also includes brief appearances by (in order): Lupaza, Furel, Shakaar, Damar, Garak, Kaksidy, and Jake. Mentions of several others.

Contains discussion of the occupation of Bajor and canon character deaths, but nothing explicit I can think of to warn about.

---

After The Dawn

1. 2356

The raid was long over but her fingers still shook – cold, always because of the cold, never from fear. Every so often they would twitch more decisively, as if recalling the sensation of the phaser rifle she was just barely big enough to hold jerking to life in her grip. But then they’d travel to her right ear of their own accord, tracing the lines of her new earring. A proper d’ja pagh all of her own, with the symbol of the Kira family emblazoned in the metal – echoing the beautiful engraving she’d always admired on her father’s.

Lupaza had worked through the night to make it for her, by the feeble light of one of their few still-working heaters, with skill that seemed otherworldly to Kira (who, though by far the youngest among them, knew better than to ask about anyone’s life before joining a resistance cell). Lupaza, who had looked at the scrawny thirteen-year-old hanging around their camp, and who’d chosen to believe in her, and speak up for her. Who’d presented her handiwork to ‘their newest member’ at sunrise, during the change of guard at the mouth of their current cavern hideout, letting the winter light glimmer on its silvery surface for all to see. And Kira had beamed at her, not caring about who’d been around to witness it or how young it may have made her look.

I’m in the Resistance, she wanted to shout over and over again until the reality truly set in, flooded and near-overwhelmed by the newfound sense of belonging and pride and brightly burning defiance mixing in her chest.

Again and again her fingers went – over the cuff hugging the shell of her ear snugly, down the single deceptively delicate chain, to the simple but beautiful main piece. She could almost believe it was still warm to the touch, heated by the orange-glow burn of Bajor’s atmosphere on Cardassian hull metal – made from stolen Bajoran ore, mined with stolen Bajoran labour. It was only right and just that it be returned this way. The rest of the beritium hull salvage they’d stripped from the ship would be used for lining the walls of their hideout, shielding them from sensor sweeps and the bite of the winter cold alike. But this small bit of it was a shield all Kira’s own.

It was a comforting presence, a slight but grounding weight with a depth of meaning that its size belied. Lupaza smiled at her fascination and distraction every time she happened to pass by, promising she’d get used to it. Furel agreed, for once without a trace of a joke in his voice, and slapped a hand on her bony shoulder with a gruff: “You’ve more than earned it, kid.”

Shakaar himself, in between whatever it was his leaderly duties entailed, took a moment to consider her. “It suits you,” was all he said on the matter, though if he meant the earring or the phaser Kira had for the first time stuck in her own belt instead of giving it back after cleaning was anyone’s guess. Then, turning to leave, he added, “Good job out there.”

There was something like sadness behind all of their eyes. Kira chose not to see it, or dwell on it.

She was in the Resistance.

She didn't even know if any of her (many) shots during the ambush had found their mark, but it didn't seem to matter. She could, she would help protect her father and his little garden, scrounged up, cobbled together, but growing. Protect her remaining brother, for the one she had failed to. She would honour her mother, the bravest woman I've ever known, Nerys. She saved us all, at great cost to herself.

Whenever her fingers floated back down and twitched for want of a rifle trigger again, she told herself to be patient. There would be more work for her, more chances to be useful, more chances to prove herself. No more sitting idly by, and no more fear.

2. 2369

Even after weeks on the station Kira had yet to manage to sleep through an entire night, but she sincerely doubted it was the bed's fault. Sure, the Cardassian-designed beds in the Cardassian-designed quarters on the Cardassian-designed station left much to be desired, but they certainly beat the ground of a half-frozen cave. And yet here she was, with endless damn bunking arrangements as one of the most frequently brought-up complaints among the crew body. Why and how those PADDs always seemed to end up on her desk was anyone's guess. She'd been prepared for a more administrative role, yes, but…

“The time is oh-six-hundred hours,” the computer helpfully informed her.

Kira huffed, and tossed aside another PADD with a blinking Request denied, then shrugged on her uniform jacket and made to leave her quarters for a quick breakfast.

It was still an odd thought that took getting used to: her quarters – hers alone; a viewport in the bulkhead, allowing her to see the stars and, when the rotation was right, Bajor’s own familiar sun from a very new perspective. Regular meals thanks to Federation engineers patching up Cardassian replicators and whipping them into shape. Shops and eateries opening on the Promenade. The ruinous mess the Cardassians left behind them slowly coming together again into something functional. Kira permitted herself a wry twist of the mouth at the thought – hopefully the planet the station had formerly orbited could manage to do the same.

The discovery of the wormhole brought fascinating, colourful crowds to the station so quickly and in such volumes, she didn't envy Odo at all. Even the small segment of the Promenade she saw on her way from her quarters to the replimat was enough to reinforce, every morning, that this was no longer Terok Nor: grey in every way imaginable, filled with throngs of terrified, beaten-down Bajoran workers and their Cardassian overseers, delighting in the former’s disposability.

The small but lively, chattering crowd in the replimat seemed to underscore all of her thoughts – no more waiting in line for gruel with the exhausted shift that had just left ore processing.

“Good morning!”

Instead, a friendly Federation face. The pattern of spots that ran down the sides of Lieutenant Dax’s face and down her neck was fascinating to Kira still – not Bajoran, and certainly not the grey, flared bony Cardassian necks that had made up most of Kira's world up until not so very long ago. She had to stop herself from staring often, even though, judging by that smirk, the Lieutenant did not seem to mind. She appeared to relish attention in general, of all kinds. Kira ducked her head, and tried to focus on the replicator instead.

“Something wrong? Quark interfering with the menus again?” Dax was right behind her, peeking over her shoulder, eyebrow raised, and smiling. Somehow she always seemed to be doing that.

“Oh, no, nothing like that, thankfully. Still not quite used to this, is all.” She shuffled her feet and made no real move to complete an order.

“Hm. Well, if I may, Major, I’d recommend the raktajino for early morning starts like this.”

“Raktajino?” Kira repeated oafishly, biting back the Early!? her mind had immediately supplied.

“Klingon coffee. Try it – I think you’ll like it.”

Kira was sceptical, but Dax seemed to be very sincere – so after a few button presses she found herself holding a large mug of something hot, dark, and quite thick. She wrinkled her nose and took a sip.

“It’s, uh… strong.”

“Hits the spot, right?”

The crooked, almost sly smile on the Lieutenant’s face was contagious. Kira didn’t even feel like bringing up growing up under an occupation-enforced famine as an excuse for her own lack of a developed or sophisticated palate or culinary taste in general.

The drink did have a real kick to it, and Kira took another sip. “Yeah, it does.”

“Just don’t go overboard with them – let me tell you, I made some grave mistakes there right after I became a host. Curzon,” Dax smirked, shaking her head, then waved at the table they’d found themselves next to. “Mind if I join you?”

Kira thought about it, but only for a moment.

“Not at all, Lieutenant.”

And ah, there it was then, as soon as they sat down: the small, incessant, bitter sting of you knew what they were doing to us and you sat by and did nothing that insisted on making itself known at very inopportune times. It was, however, becoming more bearable by the day and with every individual met, every new reassurance that they were here now, despite everything, to make a good start. Together.

When the Cardassians came they were helpful and charming too, nagged the little voice at the back of her mind. But this couldn’t be like that, and just looking at Dax was enough to… well, perhaps Kira was being a naive fool, but there seemed to be ground to build here, and she found herself willing to try. And after all, she knew she herself was ready to do anything, to lay her life down for Bajor. She just needed to be pointed the right way – or, rather, she needed to be able to point herself the right way. Now that knowing who the enemy was and who the enemy could turn out to be had gotten more complicated. Still, if nothing else: she wouldn’t let it be a repeat of anything, and she was prepared to be a thorn in anyone’s side, Federation or provisional government or otherwise, for as long as was necessary.

“You seem to be mulling over something grim already. Everything alright?”

The concern was genuine enough, but Kira had no idea how to even begin to explain all of it, even if she’d wanted to.

“Just thinking about some complaints about quarters I need to handle,” she lied smoothly – or what she hoped was smooth, anyway.

Dax caught on, and backed off. Lifetimes of experience to thank – or perhaps Kira was just that easy to read. A transcript of Trakor’s annotated ninth prophecy just waiting on a lectern, as Lupaza would say.

“Sure. Let me know if I can help.”

“With station admin? Aren’t you a science officer?”

“Absolutely. But it's in all our best interests to get this place running as smoothly as possible as fast as possible, right?”

Kira narrowed her eyes at her, entirely unconvinced. “Right.”

“Fine,” Dax threw her hands up in the air in a very silly, exaggerated gesture, “I admit it, I’m after juicy gossip. There’s bound to be quarter reassignment requests in there! What could be juicier?”

Kira couldn’t help but bark out a laugh, then. “You are ridiculous.”

Dax grinned right back. “Glad to be of help. Let’s get to Ops, you can tell me all about it on the way.”

When Kira got to her feet, both she herself and the entire day – if it could truly be called that on a space station – felt somehow lighter already.

3. 2372

It was swelteringly hot under the sun of some new, as of yet unnamed planet, in the midst of a survey mission that had already gone on longer than scheduled. Hardly Kira’s idea of a good – or productive – time.

The place was an unpleasant dustbowl broken up by stray glass-encrusted rock here and there, and Kira was surrounded by a bunch of bustling, tricorder-armed Starfleet explorer types she would have sneered at, not so long ago – but many of whom she’d now consider fast friends. She’d hardly consider herself an ideal choice for helming this particular mission, but Sisko had been insistent, and so here she was. It would appear that, if nothing else, it gave her time to indulge in reverie – a truly rare occurrence.

The unfamiliar stars of the Gamma Quadrant, unimaginably far from everything she’d ever known, could now be reached within seconds, thanks to the wormhole – more proof of how the Prophets kept looking out for Bajor in sometimes quite unexpected ways. And Kira, as Bajor’s official representative on the mission, was determined to do her best to facilitate and build upon their efforts.

“Take a look at this, Major!” It was Dax calling her over, her tricorder beeping over some bizarre green-magenta form of plant life she found beneath a rocky outcrop a little off the not-so-alien dirt path Kira was stomping down.

“What've you got for me, Lieutenant?”

“Some kind of elaborate root system stretches on for more than a kilometer underground, running beneath the very acidic soil, with an impressive – and perfectly symmetrical – array of large tubers.”

Kira shot the sensor readings a look. “Huh, could’ve fed a whole resistance cell for an entire winter on nothing but a few of those.”

She frowned as soon as the words left her mouth – Jadzia Dax, decorated Starfleet science officer and dedicated, studious initiate who’d earned the approval of the strict Trill Symbiosis Commission, certainly hadn’t had such prosaic, practical implications of her findings in mind. For a very, very brief moment, Kira felt a sting of embarrassment – but then her mind snapped decisively back into its standard guarded, resolute position: she had nothing to be embarrassed about.

Dax, as had somehow become a somewhat frustrating habit of hers, seemed to be able to encompass Kira’s entire internal dialogue with a glance. But somehow she did it… gently, without making Kira feel small or inadequate in any way. No smug Starfleet superiority here, even with all the accumulated bragging rights of all the lifetimes under her belt. And – perhaps most importantly – no trace of pity to be found. Instead, a wellspring of enthusiasm.

“Their composition is interesting, I agree. Starchy, and rich in several key proteins – this has potential for significant contributions to agriculture. I bet Keiko will love to get her hands on this – see what she can set up in one of the hydroponics bays.”

Her smile was as bright as the orange-tinted light of the unfamiliar sun, but Kira took up the challenge of matching it.

Jadzia leaned in, almost conspiratorially, “Help me catalogue it?”

“I, uh, don’t really know what the procedure–”

“No worries, I’ll walk you right through it. It’s fun!” Kira’s scepticism must have been written all over her face. “I swear it is! I’m not just saying that, you’ll see.”

“Not to mention,” Jadzia winked, “it’ll get us under some nice shade and right next to a cooling unit.”

“You are incorrigible.”

“And you love it.”

Kira couldn’t disagree.

4. 2375

The weak, grey light of Cardassia Prime’s sun filtered through the slits in the cellar windows – if they could even be called that.

Another very literally bleak dawn. No contact with the Federation. No hope of reinforcements, or extraction, or help of any kind. Negligible chances of news from Deep Space 9, of the fleet, of Odo’s health, of anything at all. And here, far behind enemy lines, Kira and her unlikely comrades presumed dead, their network of allies and carefully-hidden carefully-built-up resources destroyed, all three (three) survivors hidden away in the capital of a people she’d once have termed her worst enemies, relying on the goodwill of an old woman.

Kira, a veteran of hopeless causes, had been in worse spots – but not many.

Whatever Damar’s less… pleasant compatriots had thought, she found no joy in any of it. Not even a flutter of satisfaction at all the irony the situation was positively dripping with. It was enough that it meant that twice now she’d been witness to oppression and destruction on an immense scale – civilisation-ending, one might term it. It was wearing, and wearying, no matter who it happened to.

Would she have cheered for the destruction of Cardassia as little as a handful of years ago? Perhaps, if it would have meant Bajor being left alone. The moral quandary aspect certainly wasn’t something she wanted to be thinking about at the moment.

While the others seemed to still be asleep, Kira lay on her back on one of the thin blankets Mila had provided them, and thumbed almost idly through a list of signals intercepted nearby, identifying potential sabotage targets. There were still things three people with extremely limited resources could do to make themselves useful - or disruptive, depending on your perspective.

Two Jem’Hadar barracks complexes (a hatchery would be better, and far less dangerous). A comms central (they might not have the proper tools available to make it truly worth the risk). Long-term storage warehouses (they needed to maximise short-term effects on the Dominion occupiers, not minimise the chances of Cardassia’s eventual recovery). Weapons manufacturing plants (tempting security gaps during shift changes, but still far too well-guarded for the three of them to take on alone). A power distribution junction (...remote, potentially high-impact, and definitely worth looking into). Kira made a note to ask Garak for any further details he could muster about it.

She should have, perhaps, been saving her strength, getting what rest she could while she could. Restless, that was what she was, even with all her experience and her awareness that so, so much of a resistance fight was simply spent waiting, biding time. With another brief glance around the murky room, she gave up even the pretense of repose, and got up to stretch her legs and pace out her nerves.

Garak was asleep in his corner, or at least pretending to be. Whatever suited his purposes best.

“Commander,” came a low murmur from the other side of the room: Damar, sitting up on his own improvised bed, very much awake. The Starfleet rank still sounded strange to her, but Kira could appreciate the way Damar made sure to respect it from the start, and never allowed himself a slip. “There’s something I’ve wanted to talk to you about. If you have a moment.”

“Somehow I have both far too much and far too little time these days. What is it?” She asked quietly, stepping closer, though the chances of Garak actually sleeping through whatever their conversation was going to be were negligibly low – as were the chances of him ‘waking up’ before they were done.

“I know it might not make much difference. And I do not ask for your forgiveness, or understanding. But I wanted – no, needed to tell you this. I'm sorry – for what I did to Ziyal.”

Her mood miraculously sank even lower. “For murdering her, you mean,” Kira didn’t even try to hold back the bite, nor had she ever been one for softening any blows.

Damar’s lips twisted. “You are right to call it what it was. Hiding from the truth won’t accomplish anything anymore. I killed her, and I deeply regret it.”

Kira said nothing, and Damar continued. “I’m not asking you for anything, believe me. But I hope… she can become a herald, of sorts. Her presence can live on in our alliance, a spirit of cooperation, and a new dawn for both our peoples.”

It was hardly the first time Damar made her think there could be a future for Cardassia after everything, one of reinvention and coexistence. Even Kira, with her underdeveloped imagination (Jadzia's efforts notwithstanding – ah, there was the stab of that hastily half-handled grief), could let herself imagine it.

Kira nodded, and pursed her mouth. Forgiveness wasn’t something she felt was hers to give, even if she wanted to. Maybe it wasn’t anyone’s.

“Nice speech, Damar,” she said, flatly. Ground out, almost. “It’ll be good for you, to’ve had the practice.” Then, after a moment of consideration of what she was prepared to give: “I hope I'll get to hear you make more of those someday soon. And I hope Cardassia will get to hear them, too.”

It only took another tragically small circle paced before the weight in the room became unbearable. Kira decided to make for their somewhat improvised refresher and what little privacy could be scrounged up – and caught Garak watching her, lying motionless but as alert as ever.

She silently met his eyes, then turned away.

5. 2376

The first day of her long-awaited leave dawned beautiful and clear. It seemed a small thing, to be sure – but perhaps the Prophets, prompted by their Emissary, had had a hand in making it so. No matter the reason, the sun shone on a Bajor that was growing prosperous and whole in ways Kira had feared it wouldn’t ever be again.

The document that had just brought peace to two quadrants of the galaxy was called the Treaty of Bajor. There was talk, increasingly common and growing louder, of reactivating Bajor's suspended Federation membership application, and Kira had been made aware of the validity of her Starfleet field commission and the implications on her future career. The Vedek Assembly would be announcing their choice of the new Kai within the week. The soil beneath her feet was healthy, fertile, fully reclamated and ready for planting. There were now schoolchildren on Bajor who had never lived under the occupation.

And there was Kira, who had helped liberate it, and hadn’t lived on it since.

This was the first time she’d returned to her home planet after the formal end of hostilities with the Dominion, and all that that had entailed. The light of B’hava’el was strong but not harsh – the same sun Kira had spent most of her life under, but that had never hit her more differently than it felt now. B’hava’el, that she had now seen from so much closer and so much further away – had, in a horrifying, memorable incident, helped prevent the destruction of, even. Her! Not just scrappy little Nerys from the Shakaar resistance cell anymore, small enough to slip through narrow passages in the labyrinthine caves of the Dahkur province and gaps in the Cardassian sensor nets alike.

She was Colonel Kira Nerys, commander of Deep Space 9, and, as a dear lost friend had made sure she was aware a while ago, a public figure in her own right. Ah– her own importance was something she would need to confront some other time, perhaps, right after she somehow went head to head with her grief. Ezri had been dropping some suggestions, in her capacity as a counselor, for all of the senior staff and beyond. It would be foolish not to consider her recommendations, both as the commanding officer and as a friend.

Kira was well aware she had lost so much and so many. And she could sit down and catalogue the losses on a PADD, like freighter cargo inventory, but what for? She had gained, too, and lost again, and gained yet more. Like waves and eddies, pulling along a lightship on its way through the stars.

“Prophets help me if I try being a poet, too,” Kira mumbled to herself. Maybe she would take up writing tortured metaphors about the Prophets watching over and guiding ancient Bajoran star sailors on their journey all the way to Cardassia, for better or worse.

A stray breeze toyed with the chain of her earring, carrying the scent of ripening moba fruit, and as she crested the hill, the outline of a house well under construction came into view.

“I'm sorry, what was that?” Kasidy asked from just behind her, Jake right at her side, holding her arm.

“Just thinking aloud. Nothing important. Anyway… where did you want to start?”

Her two companions caught up to her quickly enough. The gasps of surprised joy at the sight of all the progress that had been made on the house were by themselves more than worth the trip planetside.

“Well,” Kasidy began, “we have all the plumbing specifications and details all worked out thanks to the local architect you recommended – thanks again, by the way. I think… the kitchen should be first.”

It was an obvious tribute. A longing and anticipation there, too. Kira's heart ached just a bit stronger then, for a beat or two. She nodded, scrolling down a PADD loaded with floor plans and interior concepts. “I know some people who can help with that, too. Ceramics and pottery artisans, and a few others. I’ve got some favours to call in.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Kasidy started, but didn’t get too far.

“Yes I do, Kas. We’re going to see this through, and we’re going to see it done properly.”

“Only the best for the Emissary?” Jake asked, pointedly. There wasn’t bitterness there, though Kira would have understood it, and perhaps expected it, from a young man longing for the return of his father.

“For a dear friend and his family,” Kira corrected. “But – yes, I’m sure they’ll be happy and honoured to contribute. Now, Julian and Ezri will be down with the next transport, just in time to meet us for dinner in the village. We have a few hours to handle things here, check on the progress so far, make notes – any complaints or requests you might have. Remember, I’m here to make sure they listen to you.”

They started down the path into the almost startlingly green valley, Kira catching herself marvelling along the way at the visibility of all the growth and healing made possible by the hard, dedicated work of so many. Who knew what could be in store for an old civilisation of artists, architects, and philosophers, forced to reinvent itself, and the sometimes tenuous connections to vast stretches of heritage that Kira herself had grasped at in various ways for most of her life, born into struggle and desperate, determined rebellion, like so many others.

Well. Nothing to stop her from trying her hand at poetry, after all.

She felt her lips twist wryly at the private joke – she knew her place and her strengths. And she thought she could say she knew herself, too – precious knowledge, by any accounting. She knew there'd be no rest for her, not really, as long as there was something to be done for Bajor, and for her station, and for her unlikely family, wherever they might end up, scattered among and beyond the stars.

But Kira allowed herself a moment, gazing up in what she imagined might be the direction of the wormhole’s entrance.

#kira nerys #star trek #ds9 #deep space nine #fandom: oath to the prophets #oathkeeper writes things #fanfiction #my fic #this is far from polished but #I'M PROCESSING #bless you angry space wife #always and forever #i'm also gonna tag the #kiradax #though i was using #jadzia x kira #really struggling to properly tag this

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yandere-oppai · 4 years

Text

My Omega

Yandere! Omega! Kirishima x Reader

Forced Partnership (pt.2)

Words:1900

Warnings: Mentions of non-cons

Note: Not beta-read

The calm before the storm. Next chapter is all yandere behavior

----

The week of the incident was the first rut you’d experienced while off of strong medication. At that point, you knew everyone on the girl’s floor of your dorm knew what you are (and then passed it on to the rest of your class). A filthy mongrel who was dangerous to be around. You didn’t need them to say this. When you walked back into class on the first day you knew your thoughts to be true. Wherever you went, your class quieted. Like your presence sucked all of the fun out of the room. They felt as though they had to stay on edge. And maybe they had the right to be.

“(L/n)-san?” your head shot up from your desk. The week of silence had made it so that you thirsted after any type of attention.

“O-oh, yes? That’s me!” You stuttered and made your way over to the girl in the doorway of the classroom.

“Some guys are looking for you. They’re in the courtyard,” she said before taking off. Well, that was incredibly vague. But at this point, it beat eating lunch alone in an empty classroom.

You made your way outside the school building and to the back courtyard. Sure enough, as you rounded the corner, there were two people there. But when you looked at the style and color of one of the pair’s hair, you quickly tried to hide back behind the corner. But it was too late, you were spotted.

“Oi! I saw you! Get your ass back here!” A scream sounded from around the corner. You sheepishly stepped out from around the corner and made your way over to the two. As you got closer a realization hit you.

“Hey, you’re the explosion kid from the sports festival,” you couldn’t help but say. He let out a hissy ‘tch’ which took you aback. It wasn’t like you said anything wrong.

“Oh sure you recognize me, but not the one you forcefully claimed,” he said pulling the second boy from behind his back. Making his face flush in embarrassment.

“H-hello I’m Kir-” You didn’t let him finish.

“I’m sorry! I took advantage of you in an altered state and shouldn’t have done so! I hope you can forgive me and we can move on!” You yelled with a bowed head. This outburst took both of them by surprise and made them pause.

“Y-you...YOU IDIOT!” Came the blonde’s yell followed by him bashing you on the back of the head. You doubled over, clutching the back of your head as you looked back up at the two. “You call that taking responsibility for what you’ve done?! Just leaving a newly claimed omega unprotected and unscented?! Do you even have a brain in there?!”

“W-What?” You questioned. He took his friend by the upper arm and shoved him towards your figure.

“This is Kirishima, he’s your mate now. Take responsibility and keep the other annoying alphas away from him. If you don’t, I’m not afraid to harm an extra,” he threatened before leaving you and Kirishima behind.

His face was still bright red. And when you looked up at him in a questioning manner he just let out a nervous chuckle and pointed after his friend.

“That was Bakugo.”

At first, it was a little unsettling to have an omega waiting for you before and after class to walk with you to wherever you needed to go. And it was more strange for you to awkwardly comply with his requests of waiting after school for his hero courses to end. His reasoning was that the two of you could use the bonding time. Because, as he put it, the two of you would be spending so much time together. At least until the mark wore off.

From what you learned, a newly marked mate emitted a strong fragrant scent. Possibly attracting nearby alphas. The only way to dull the smell is for an alpha to have their scent cover it up. Leading to you agreeing to be his temporary mate. The guilt would eat at you if you left him defenseless to another alphas pheromones. Quirks wouldn’t help at that point.

So, casual hangouts turned into forming a bit of a fondness for the boy. Less in a romantic way and more in a close friend kind of way. And his friends seemed to adopt you into their group as well. While eating lunch you were able to goof and joke around with the Baku-squad like you’d known them for ages. When none of you had classes or training, you’d stop by their dorm to hang out and watch a movie or two. It was fun if you took away the reason why you were so keen on being with the group. Since your last rut, your class had practically disregarded you as existing. The class had practically shunned you so even working with someone on group projects seemed like pulling teeth. It was only about two months later that you got a reason why.

Ectoplasm-sensei had asked you and another girl to put back some study material in one of the storage rooms. She seemed to be keeping her distance, which ticked you off. After all this time of being classmates, you’d think they all know how non-violent you were. When something had been tipping off the top shelf. Almost falling on her, you reached over her head to stop it from cracking her skull. But all she did was flinch and tell you to get away from her. At that point, you snapped.

“If you would take your head out of your ass, you’d know I was trying to help you!” Your voice rose. He flinched at your tone but returned your glare.

“Well, maybe I don’t want your kind of help,” she shot back. There was so much venom in her voice that you thought she was going to bite at any moment.

“What do you mean my kind of help?” you replied, edge not hidden in your voice.

“You know what I mean. The ‘help’ of a filthy alpha,” your eyes widened. “Don’t look at me like that. I know how you all think. The easiest way to solve a problem is to claim whatever you want and disregard others’ opinions. Yeah, I heard about what you did to Kirishima. How you forced yourself on him. I thought you were better than that (y/n). I really did.”

Your lip quivered as you thought of how to reply. But you couldn’t refute what she said. You knew what she said was true, but it still stung.

“I didn’t ask to be born like this!” You yelled and took off out of the hall.

When you made it back to your dorm you locked yourself in your room. Then shot a quick text to Kirishima saying you won’t be able to hang with him this weekend like you’d both planned. You then tossed the phone on your desk and nuzzled into the thick blankets on your bed. When you started crying you couldn’t stop. The guilt that you felt the day you claimed Kirishima came back tenfold. Leading you to have the same passing thoughts you’d had since childhood.

‘Alphas give omegas no choice. I gave Kirishima no choice. I forced myself onto him and made him cling to me. I’m the villain. I’m useless. I bring nothing to this world. It would’ve been better if I just never existed.’

It felt like you only blinked before you were awakened to quick sharp knocks were sounding at your door. Your head was fogged as you made your way over to the door. When you opened it you were immediately smothered in a hug. You sobered up quickly and struggled for a second before recognizing the familiar vanilla scent. Weaker than the first time you met him. The mark must be fading. He finally pulled away and shocked you up and down with an agitated look.

“Are you crazy!? You tell me out of the blue that we’re not meeting after school and proceed to ignore my calls and texts. What happened??” He said as he nudged the door closed.

“It’s nothing. How did you get here, I thought sneaking out was against the rules?” You asked.

“Don’t give me that bullshit. I’m your mate. I know you best,” he ignored your question. “I want to know what made you cry. Your eyes look raw and red. Please tell me.”

His voice was quiet now. Soft and comforting. Which made you realise just how much you bonded with him. You took him by the hand and sat him down on your bed. You let the silence overtake both of you. He let you take your time getting on with explaining.

“I-” you started. “I’m not a burden to you right?” your voice quivered. Kirishima looked shocked. Like he’d just been shot.

“What?! No! Who made you think like that?” He questioned frantically. This made you chuckle sadly.

“No one did Kiri. I’ve always had these thoughts. Since I was young I knew that alphas and omegas are two different beings. One with more manipulation power compared to the other. So, when I marked you, while you were in heat. I was taking away your chance to choose a partner for yourself,” you started to tear up again. “And I lost control. I could’ve heart you.”

You were bawling again. Violent sobs wracking your body. Kirishima immediately took you into his arms and held you close. Allowing you to get his shirt soggy. He let you cry while he stroked your back. His comforting was nice, it made you stop sooner than expected. When the cries turned to hiccups he began to speak.

“You were never manipulating me (y/n), in fact I was happy you were the one to find me in the nurse’s office,” you paused for a moment. “Before that, I had a huge crush on you. During the sports festival, I noticed you manning one of the booths after my match against Bakugo. One of the kids there had lost your mom and you gave him a free scoop of ice cream to cheer him up. It was sweet how you even told him cheezy jokes so that he’d stop crying and would instead be weirded out by you. It made me laugh. And when you used your quark to stretch your neck over the crowd to find his parents? It was the manliest thing I’d seen that day. Even with the quirks, I’d seen that day. So I guess subconsciously that day in Recovery Girl’s office, I knew you were the best choice to help me. So I didn’t fight as hard against my urges as I could’ve. If anything, I’m the one in the wrong,” He finished.

You sat there for a moment, taking in what you said. You were partially his choice. You weren’t completely in the wrong. You both had a hand in the claiming of Kirishima. Both of you participating in a claim. Just as relationships should be. You were yet again overcome with emotion. But happier ones. After all, a huge weight was lifted off your shoulders. You both sat clutching at each other. You now mumbling small ‘thank yous’ and him with a smile on his face. Maybe being an alpha wasn’t so bad. Maybe all of them weren’t bad. Maybe you weren’t bad.

#yandere #kirishima eijirou #yandere x reader #reader x yandere #yandere kirishima #Omega! Kirishima #Alpha! reader #a/o/b dynamics #a/o dynamics #yandere bnha #Bnha #boku no hero academia #yandere boku no hero academia

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wittywallflower · 4 years

Text

Merry Pranksters - Miles wants to play a practical joke on Julian while the doctor is off the station and asks Garak, of all people, for help.

(3,6k words, Miles & Garak gen fic)

Garak was just about to close up for the day when Miles O'Brien appeared quite unexpectedly. He was an infrequent visitor in the shop. The chief tended to leave sartorial considerations to his wife when he could get away with it. Outside of his holosuite costumes, that is, and in those cases he usually discussed things thoroughly with the doctor before letting Julian make the actual arrangements with the tailor.

"Good evening, Chief O'Brien," Garak greeted him as pleasantly as any customer. "How are those trousers I mended working out for you?"

"Fine, fine. Good as new," Miles said, but nothing more.

"Was there something you need?”

"You, uh... you want to help me prank Julian?" Miles asked.

-------------------------------------------------------

"Good evening, Chief O'Brien," Garak greeted him pleasantly. "How are those trousers I mended working out for you?"

"Fine, fine. Good as new," Miles said, but nothing more.

"Was there something you need? Don't tell me young Miss Molly had another growth spurt again so soon? That would be most inconvenient to Mrs. O'Brien. I believe she said they would be on Bajor this month? There aren't many clothing shops in the mountains of Ray'laht."

Miles was surprised, and not sure how he felt about the Cardassian talking so familiarly, and knowledgeably, about his family like that. But of course Garak would know a bit about it. Keiko liked the man, naturally would she would chat with him whenever Molly's pants were getting too short again and she had need of his services. Keiko was a nice, engaging woman and most people liked talking to her. Miles wouldn't have guessed Garak would care enough to listen, but then the man was or used to be a spy. He probably filed away any bit of intel, no matter how innocuous, just in case it came in handy later.

"Not that I am aware of yet," Miles answered, and huffed a laugh. "Won't be long though, the way she's growing."

Now that he thought of it, though, he could remember Julian mentioning that Cardassians were real big on family and loved children. Both apparently being big themes in the books Julian read and discussed with Garak. Julian, bless him, didn't try to get Miles to read any of it, limiting himself to the very broadest strokes of the stories when recounting his weekly lunches with the tailor. And Molly was adorable enough to win hearts wherever she went. It was possible that Garak not only knew but had a genuine friendly interest (as well as a professional one) in not just Molly's measurements but things like her favorite colors and what she liked to do for play. Some of the stain-resistant fabrics Garak had tracked down were a godsend, given how much the girl loved to paint.

Miles might not spend more time with Garak than he had to, but that didn't mean the man was entirely removed from his life. Even if Julian wasn't friends with the man, he would still be there on the station. In his tailor shop, discussing orchids with Keiko and making a mental note that young Miss Molly O'Brien detested knitted sweaters and broke out all over in itchy hives no matter how soft the wool.

Garak looked at the human and tried not to grin widely at the man's reticence, knowing the chief would only interpret it poorly. Garak simply enjoyed drawing information out of people otherwise reluctant to give it away. That's what had made him so good at procuring information for the Order. An honest zeal for the work.

"I stand at the ready when she does," Garak said with his blandest salesman smile. Which was really the only one the chief was likely to trust. "I was just about to close up for the night, if there's no assistance I can offer...."

He trailed off, eyes widened expectantly. Obviously the human had a reason to come here. O'Brien more than most was no fan of Cardassian company. With any other potential customers Garak would have set up an appointment for the following day. But if the chief was here for a fitting it wouldn't take long and Garak suspected O'Brien would be just as happy to have to over and done with quickly.

Miles didn't immediately answer and Garak began to turn away before the chief spoke up.

"You, uh... you want to help me prank Julian?" he asked.

"Pardon me?" Garak's tone and expression were a little too politely confused by half.

"You know, a practical joke."

O'Brien didn't believe for one second that the savvy ex-spy had lived among humans for so long without learning about pranks. In fact, he was damn sure a species as naturally devious as Cardassians was already intimately familiar with the concept, so he didn't elaborate.

"Julian's back from his conference tomorrow," he said instead, "Thought we could arrange a little 'surprise' for him."

"We? As in you and I?"

"Sure! Pranks are more fun with an accomplice," Miles said with a slight smile, and squinted speculatively at him. "And you seem like you might know a thing or two about being a co-conspirator."

Garak didn't insult the chief with his usual protestations that he was just a plain and simple tailor who couldn't possibly conspire against a soul, except perhaps his fractious supplier of Orellian brocade. In truth, the oft-repeated denial of his former career was getting a little tired. One should endeavor not to repeat the same lie too many times. And he was quite sure no one else found it as amusing as Julian did.

"Why me?" he asked. The two men did not have a habit of spending time in each other's company.

"Why not you?"

Miles tried not to get annoyed by the interrogation. He knew it was only annoying because he didn't want to explain himself. He had made the decision to try to be more friendly towards Garak, to reach out and include him in some shenanigans. It was his own fault if that gave the fellow a chance to get under his skin.

And it was a fair question after all, given the usually chilly civility between them.

"Dax and I have pranked Julian a dozen times already," Miles said. "Who else am I going to ask? Sisko? He's my commanding officer. Worf's barely got a sense of humor. And Odo is the station's head of security."

"You expect to engage in acts of dubious legality then?" Garak raised his brow ridges as if scandalized, but there was definitely a hint of mischief in his gaze.

"I expect Odo would find breaking into Julian's quarters a bit dubious, yes." Miles nodded.

Hmm, interesting. Garak was already intrigued by the novelty of the situation. The chief inviting Garak of all people into his fun. There was a 'why' to be discovered there and Garak did enjoy a mystery. But even if there were any reason to suspect the chief's motives might be nefarious, the chance to snoop around the doctor's quarters a bit would still be impossible to resist.

"Actually Quark is pretty good at schemes," Miles continued on through the list, "but there's no latinum in this for him so he wont bother himself. And the Major... well, she's had a hard life. A real rough time growing up. I'm not sure she would see the point in this sort of... silliness. And it occurs to me now that might be true for you too." Miles finished awkwardly. "I mean, I understand if you aren't interested."

Miles, with the natural intuition of a man of similar age who had seen his fair share of trouble, had guessed that Garak had been through a lot in his life. Even if he didn't have any idea what exactly. Garak didn't worry about anything Julian might have told Miles about the former spy's life simply because Garak hadn't told Julian much of anything that could be confirmed as truth. Station gossip surprisingly didn't have much to say about him beyond the painfully unimaginative: that he was still a spy, loyal to Cardassia, in service of the Obsidian Order, here to steal highly classified information and disrupt Federation efforts. Largely negative, but not so bad as to stop the gruff human engineer from sympathizing where he thought they might have common ground of being victims of trauma. Garak could almost feel a sort of... camaraderie with him for it.

"Why Chief, are you implying that I'm no fun?" Garak pivoted, a playful smile served with the joke. Easing their mutual discomfort at the near brush with emotional honesty, and signaling his acceptance of the scheme.

Miles barked an honest laugh at that and grinned back, relieved and, yes, a little amused by the Cardassian.

"I'll get what we need while you close up shop. Meet me at my quarters and we'll walk over to Julian's together."

When he received a nod of acquiescence, Miles left, cheerfully whistling on his way down the Promenade.

Garak was quite sure O'Brien knew he was just as capable of breaking into crew quarters as the engineer. But the former spy lurking around on a habitat level not his own would definitely draw some suspicion from station security. He did have a history of going where he wasn't authorized to be when the situation called for it and a door lock had never stopped that. In the chief's company his presence was less likely to be questioned, but Garak knew how to handle any potential run-ins with Odo regardless.

"Hey," O'Brien greeted him when Garak arrived at the chief's quarters with a parcel under his arm. "What's that?"

"My excuse for being on this level this time of night." Garak handed the package to Miles. "For Miss Molly. They'll be a little big yet, but that hardly matters with pajamas."

"What, did you sew these in the 10 minutes since I left you?" Miles asked with mild astonishment.

"I already had the pattern cut and fabric pinned," Garak said with a dismissive wave. "they were just waiting for the updated inseam measurement. It hardly took a moment to run my handheld seamer over it all."

Huh. Prepared for anything, this one, Miles thought as he accepted the parcel with a nod of thanks and set it down next to two Starfleet issue canvas duffle bags. One of which he hefted, the other he handed to Garak.

"Shall we?"

They made short work of the walk to the doctor's quarters and even shorter work of bypassing Julian's lock code to let themselves in.

Garak crossed to a table where he could set down the bag he held. Next to a pair of data padds that he made sure to 'accidentally' bump so as to activate their screens, which he then just happened to glance at long enough to make note of their contents. All of which would have gone unnoticed even if the room had been crowded with people. Garak was very discreet.

"What's the plan, Mister O'Brien?" He asked, opening the bag to pull out its contents. Which he stared at thoughtfully a moment before he gave up guessing and turned to ask an explanation. "With all these...pieces of paper?"

The bag was crammed full with short stacks of small slips of paper in various neon hues.

"They're called Post-Its, or sticky notes back home. Not exactly a novel concept, I've seen similar things around the galaxy. They mostly fell out of fashion on Earth in the 21st century when people started carrying electronic devices everywhere. You write notes on them: reminders, messages, shopping lists. They have adhesive on the back so you can stick them wherever you need and they come in bright colors so you can't miss seeing them."

"So we're going to... write notes to the doctor on these little squares?" Garak ask skeptically. That didn't seem terribly amusing but then, it would matter a great deal what exactly was written.

"No." Miles eyes suddenly gleamed with a light that bore ill tidings for Julian Bashir. "We are going to stick every single one of these little squares to every single surface we can reach until the whole room is covered with them." As Garak caught on and began to smile, Miles smiled back. "Though, now you mention it.... it could be funny to write stuff on 'em."

"Not all of them surely?" Garak asked.

O'Brien eyed his own bag crammed full of as many Post-Its as he could replicate. His hand cramped at just the idea of all that writing and he made a face.

"Because" Garak hastened to suggest, no more enamored with the thought of that task than the chief, "I really think it would be more amusing to write only on a select few of them. Say, give each word of a sentence its own square and scatter the message around the room. This would force him to examine every last one if he wants to be sure he's found all them."

"Garak, that's brilliant!" Miles grinned. Okay, maybe now he could see how Julian found Garak's devious mind enjoyable instead of just worrisome. "He won't be able to resist finding the clues so he cant just sweep everything into the recycler, he'll have to leave it all up and stare at it until he solves the puzzle."

Miles chortled, pulling out a cube of sticky notes and handing it to Garak.

"You think up a message, I'll try to find you a pen."

"No need, Chief." Garak pulled an elegant looking pen from a discreet pocket in his trousers.

"You just carry a fountain pen around with you?" Miles asked.

Plenty of people still enjoyed the tactile feeling of writing, Jake Sisko to name one, but who actually carried such an old-fashioned writing implement? Most everything on the station could be handled through a computer or padd. And even a standard ink stylus would work more reliably than a fussy fountain pen. They never leaked and stained your uniform, for one.

"A tailor is always prepared for anything," Garak said with a smirk, unknowingly echoing Miles' earlier thought.

Miles shook his head but he was still smiling as he turned away to start covering Julian's chair.

They were both accustomed to working with brisk efficiency so it didn't take as long as either expected to work their way around the room in opposite directions, covering everything in a kaleidoscope of neon paper. Still, it would have bordered on tedious if Miles hadn't broken the silence with a few stories of past pranks. Garak warmed up to the subject as he came to find the other man could be delightfully inventive in his mischief. The prank they were currently engaged in, while diverting, was not particularly impressive by Garak's estimation. The chief agreed.

"This is a pretty amateur effort, if I'm honest," Miles said over his shoulder as he lined the doorway to Julian's bedroom with bright blue squares. "But it was all spur of the moment. I didn't have the time to plan anything more elaborate before tomorrow. Besides, Keiko would have words for me if she came home to find i blew a bunch of latinum to play a joke on Julian. This only cost me replicator credits."

Garak could understand the pressure of a deadline, and a budget. Sometimes an uncomplicated plan was best when one was in a pinch.

"I think the doctor will be amused, regardless of the simplicity," he offered as reassurance to Miles. "And if he happens to return exhausted from his travels, it will be a kindness for him that it's not something a great deal more involved."

Garak was thinking of one of the stories Miles had just shared about locking a particularly annoying Enterprise crewmate in the holodeck for several hours to play out an especially embarrassing scenario.

Miles for his part was thinking how interesting it was for Garak to be so considerate of Julian's comfort like that. The doctor was known for his abundance (some might say excess) of energy; all bounce-and-go. He wasn't exactly the type you'd ever think of as being in need of a nap. Fretting that someone would have a proper chance to rest after a long trip... that spoke of a certain level of caring, in his experience. What level exactly Miles wasn't ready to hazard a guess at. He couldn't read the Cardassian in the best of times, let alone when they were both at work with their backs to each other.

Huh. Willingly turning his back on a Cardassian, a known operative of the Obsidian Order, alone and in close quarters with no witnesses. Miles could honestly say he didn't trust the man. If Quark had a pool going, O'Brien would lay a bet that Garak had at least 2 weapons hidden on his person at any time. But he somehow knew Garak's deceit did not extend to doing violence in this sort of innocuous situation.

Their final task was to cover the shelving along one wall, full of Bashir's books and belongings. They worked their way up from the floor, with some discussion as to how to wrap oddly-shaped knick-knacks, until they reached the top shelf. And its lumpy, rather disreputable looking occupant.

O'Brien eyed it dubiously.

"I don't think Julian will thank us for messing with Kukalaka. The adhesive on these things is pretty weak but still... that bear is half dust, held together by nostalgia and stubbornness. I don't want to try sticking anything to that threadbare fur."

Garak regarded the teddy bear, largely ignored on his previous visit (intrusion) in the doctor's quarters. The chief was obviously well familiar with the toy and what it meant to Julian. Miles didn't offer further information but Garak could read between the lines and tell it important. Very important indeed. Sudden inspiration suppressed the burning curiosity he knew wouldn't be satisfied in the moment anyway.

"I think we can include... Kukalaka, is it? in on the fun without harming him," Garak smiled at the chief.

While O'Brien finished the rest of the shelf, Garak grabbed a cube of notes and began layering them until he had a large multi-colored sheet. Very carefully (the chief was right, the adhesive barely stuck to anything) he began to fold his creation. Spare minutes later Kukalaka was the proud possessor of a very dapper, day-glo hat. All sticky edges safely folded and tucked away.

"Huh, I didn't know you could do origami." O'Brien remarked as he took in Garak's handiwork.

"I'm afraid I'm not familiar with the term."

"Oh, its an art form from Earth's Japanese culture. Folding paper to create shapes, usually animals and flowers and the like."

"And hats?"

"And hats." Miles chuckled. "I'm not too bad at it myself. Keiko taught me, thinking with all the fiddly engineering work I do my fingers would be good at it. She was right, like she usually is."

"I would imagine several society with advanced paper industries have developed similar arts," Garak said, always interesting in cross-comparing cultures. "I'll have to ask Mrs. O'Brien to tell me more about this origami sometime."

"You should," Miles' smile was... actually genuinely friendly. It was not a sight Garak was used to seeing. "She'd enjoy talking to you about it."

They both looked around for a long moment, feeling satisfaction at the visible results of their efforts. Nearly every surface was decked in bright colors. They didn't have enough supplies to completely cover the walls so they settled for framing the doorways and viewport, and covering all the wall art. An armchair was a violent neon purple, the low table before it a yellow that hurt Garak's eyes to look at directly. The replicator in the wall was ringed in concentric stripes and Julian's desk was covered in no less than 5 different eye-searing shades.

"I wish I could see his face when he walks in," Miles chortled, almost boyish in his glee.

"I can send you the feed from my hidden surveillance devices," Garak offered with a straight face and level tone.

Any other day that line, delivered with that sort of aplomb, would have left O'Brien with a suspicious, questioning glare. Such a thing was by no means beyond Garak's capabilities or outside his morals, they both knew that. But, despite himself, the unique experience of spending this time with the chief did not lend itself to Garal projecting his usual aura of danger cloaked in affability. The engineer looked him over and he could practically see Garak radiating with a energy of what he could only describe of as.... fun.

So Miles didn't bother to take the joke seriously. Even if it was true and Garak did have illegal surveillance equipment set up, the chief would never actually get confirmation or proof of it so it didn't bear worrying about right now. If, later, Miles decided it was a credible threat he would mention it to Julian.

"C'mon," Miles said, almost going as far as giving the man a good-natured slap on the back but definitely smart enough not to push his luck. "I'll buy us a round at Quark's in the name of a job well done."

"I don't think we've ever had a drink together, Chief," Garak couldn't help but point out, because it was in his nature to stir the pot, to provoke a reaction just to see what he would get.

Miles shrugged that off, knowing it was true enough. But the whole night had been unprecedented anyway, and he for one had worked up a thirst.

"You can relieve Quark of some of that overstock of kanar he's always complaining about taking up space in his store room. The more you drink, the less I have to listen to him whinge about it," the human said.

Garak accepted that, and the offer of a drink; oddly more comfortable for it to be a matter of selfishness on O'Brien's part rather than an honest gesture of kindness from an acquaintance. What sort of life left a man unable to trust motives that weren't entirely devious and self-serving? Miles shook the thought off as they headed for the Promenade and the bar. He was much too tired to go digging around in anyone's psyche right now, much less the enigma of a man beside him.

#yes this is silly but whatever #I just wanted them to be friends #their respective skillsets would make them super talented at hijinks #star trek deep space 9 #ds9 fic #star trek ds9 #miles o'brien #elim garak #deep space nine #ds9 #star trek fic

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goose-books · 4 years

Note

🖊

ty anon!!! i did caelum yesterday, so today i might as well do dawn, since she’s his counterpart!

(both of them hail from quark, an urban fantasy set in NYC. dawn andrews is the chosen one. against her will. she has student loans)

dawn was the one who set off caelum’s prophetic visions in the first place, when both of them were seven. not on purpose; she literally just looked him in the eyes and he dropped like a sack of wet cement.

their parents separated them immediately because Prophets Are Dangerous. dawn has low-key been thinking about caelum for all fourteen years since.

when i say “low-key,” i mean that when she was a little kid, she started writing him letters, even though she couldn’t send them, with the hope that SOMEDAY she would get to talk to him again. as she got older, she realized the futility of it, but she kept writing the letters as a sort of therapeutic thing - pretending to talk to some imaginary caelum was easier than talking to herself, you know?

before meeting caelum, she lived in... a strange little city elsewhere. after that whole deal, her parents moved her to NYC.

she always felt a little lonely, being a neurodivergent kid who literally came from another world. she doesn’t make friends very well :/

adhd legend. forgot her own address and birthday at least once each

dawn does art! she does art. that is her Thing. she’s majoring in the visual arts, particularly drawing, though she also paints.

she got her start when she was in middle school and drew anime girls every day.

she still never considered that she might be a little bit gay.

(lesbian icon, even if she doesn’t know it yet. gaydhd. both caelum and dawn have their own “wait shit i’m gay” arcs. dawn gets an enemies-to-friends-to-lovers plotline with the jerkass motorcycle butch shapeshifter she meets in her quest)

she also runs a fake fortune-telling booth! call it caelum’s influence, but she’s obsessed with the idea of clairvoyance. she does tarot and palm readings and stuff like that. all totally fake, but she has fun and tries to spread optimism!

she actually made her own tarot deck! she keeps pulling the wheel of fortune, on which she drew some pretty lady in a long black dress that she saw in a dream she had.

but that doesn’t mean anything, probably

there’s this museum in new york city (the natural history museum) that has a GIANT blue whale model hanging from the ceiling. dawn has been obsessed with it since she was small. it literally is a giant fiberglass whale model at the museum but she feels very attached to it? it comforts her. when her parents would take her to the museum as a kid, she would lie down on the floor under it (f for everyone trying to walk around her, i guess) and feel really really safe. she still considers it her Safe Place in her head

copes via humor. copes via humor. copes via humor oh my GOD. dawns will say “is anyone else gonna make a joke about the very real danger we’re in?” and not wait for an answer

she ALSO didn’t have a name for like two or three years she was “shadowgirl” or “lightbringer” in my head (for different plot-related reasons). or “the virgo.” max leak the canon quark astrology signs challenge

has fun socks. likes rick astley. i love her

#max.txt #quark tag #dawn andrews #ive had the quark characters for so long i love them. so much. so so much can you guys tell #thank u for asking and letting me ramble o7 #asks #Anonymous

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edosianorchids901 · 5 years

Note

Hi! If you're still doing the Garashir prompts, how about number 91. "I can't breathe."? Either angsty or fluffy would be fine by me, so whatever you feel like writing. Thank you so much!

Thank you so much for the prompt!!

Read on AO3 - if Tumblr mobile formatting is acting up, this is likely your best bet

The walls loomed, tipped, collapsed.

Garak clutched the edge of his table. Deep breaths, in andout. That was all he needed. Deep breaths.

As if I haven’t spenthours forcing myself to take deep breaths, he thought. The entire dayconsisted of one deep breath after another.

Just breathe. Just calm down. Just relax. The asinineplatitudes given by those who’d never endured true panic, never known thecrushing weight of rubble. Rubble didn’t care how deeply you breathed, howloudly you screamed. It was immutable, oppressive, eternal.

But now, the rubble existed only in his mind. When he lookedup, his shop walls stood innocently in place. He waited, challenging them tomove in again.

They remained still, and Garak bent over his work. The fabriccaught on his trembling fingers. Something exploded in his chest and he hurledboth dress and tailoring tool onto the table.

The tool skidded across the smooth surface before crashingagainst a bolt of cloth with a satisfying thud. The dress, however, simply fluttereddownward, brushed against the table edge, hung there for a mere second, andthen slid lifelessly to the floor.

“If that isn’t typical,” Garak muttered. He bit back theseething mass of rage, fingers digging into his thigh. A true Obsidian Orderagent wouldn’t allow himself to knocked off his place by a disobedient garment.

And yet, the dress seemed to mock him from the floor. You can’t even control fabric. How can youever hope to control yourself?

“Perhaps I’m not a true agent anymore,” he said to the inertpile of cloth. “Perhaps I never was. After all, didn’t I repeatedly fall preyto sentiment? And now… I’m certainly not doing much to serve my people thesedays.”

Informing on them, yes. Fighting against them, yes. Killingthem all, yes.

Serving them? No.

“Elim?”

Garak jerked his head up. How had he missed the footsteps?“Ah, Julian.”

Deep furrows carved into Julian’s brow. He strode throughthe shop and pressed his fingertips to Garak’s temple. “God, your pulse isracing again. Are you all right?”

“Perfectly fine.” No time for weakness. “Whatever are youdoing here? It’s late.”

“Precisely. It’s late, and you never came home.”

Ah. That. Garak wriggled out from under Julian’sministrations and scooped the dress off the floor. He deposited the outfit onthe table—more calmly this time—and gathered errant scraps of cloth. “I wasworking.”

“You looked like you were talking to a dress.”

“Yes, well, it’s like plants. The clothes grow better if youtalk to them.” The stranglehold on his throat refused to ease. He shook thescraps out and laid them on the table one by one, then neatly folded them.

“That’s…nice,” Julian said in that I’m not entirely sure if you’re joking tone. “But really. It’sincredibly late, and you need rest. You’re under a lot of stress lately—”

“Oh, am I? I hadn’t noticed.” Really. What was it withhumans and their constant need to state the obvious?

“—under a lot of stress lately,” Julian pressed on, “andit’s important that you rest. You’ll never recover otherwise.”

Recovery. Another odd human concept. As a Cardassian, therewas no recovering from those sorts of memories. One either integrated theexperiences into their proper place and went on with life…or one didn’t.

Perhaps that was what Julian meant by recovery. Theexperiences couldn’t be erased, not even by humans’ fading memories. Butlearning to live with those memories, to continue with life…that was a necessary,if uncomfortable, process.

Garak added another folded scrap to the stack. “Sleep evadesme these days, my dear, as I believe you well know.”

“Garak.” Julian leaned against the table, and Garak edgedaway. “I know you’re not sleeping well, but that’s exactly why you need to comehome. Even if you can’t actually sleep, the rest will be beneficial. It’sbetter for you than spending all night…”

Being completelymiserable and questioning why I’m alive? “Brooding?”

“Well…yes.”

Garak sighed. Not many options left at this point. Oh, hecould always create a scene with Julian, the same sort of thing he’d done toEzri. But that hadn’t been fair to her at all, and lashing out at Julian wouldbe horrifically cruel. The good doctor was only trying to help, annoying thoughit was.

Yet perhaps a fight was preferable to admitting why hecouldn’t go home.

Ridiculous. Pullyourself together, Elim.

“Yes, of course. You’re quite right.” The rest would benefithim, leave him fresh for the miseries of the next day. If only he couldactually make it to their quarters.

Julian’s shoulders relaxed and a smile played on his face.“Good. I’m sure you didn’t eat, so we’ll have dinner before bed.”

“And kanar.” Goodness, he needed kanar. He brieflyconsidered raiding Quark’s private stock. The bar was closed at present, butbetween one ex-spy and one genetically enhanced doctor, they could defeat Rom’selaborate locking mechanism.

“Did you have your session with Ezri?” Julian asked,breaking Garak’s criminal contemplations. “I sent you a message earlier askinghow it went, but you never responded.”

A sharp twisting pain stabbed Garak’s stomach. He tipped hishead back and studied the empty walkways on the Promenade’s second level. Not only a traitor to my people, but aterrible partner. I suppose it’s true to form. “My apologies.”

“I was worried.” Julian touched a warm hand to the small ofGarak’s back as they walked. A sweet gesture, one he didn’t deserve after hisnegligence. “It’s not like you to completely vanish.”

“You could have come to check on me.” The nearer they drewto the lift, the more his restless energy sought an outlet, a target. “It’s notas though my shop is a great distance from the Infirmary.”

He winced at his own tone. Julian, however, merely looked athim. “What’s going on?” he asked with his usual disarming directness. “Is itjust the decryptions? Or has something else happened?”

“Does something else need to happen?”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Ah, humans. Such a narrow view of ‘answers’.”

The lift doors parted like the maw of a great beast. For afraction of a second, Garak’s steps faltered. But no, he wouldn’t allow himselfto be defeated again.

He passed into the abyss, into the dark cage of metal andcircuitry. Each breath echoed in his ears. His head roared, heart pounded,hands quaked.

And then the doors to the trap sealed shut. They’d neveropen again. He’d die here, in this box. And he wasn’t just trapped in the box,in this coffin. No, the entire stationwas a trap, a metal monstrosity suspended in vacuum. There was no air outthere, no air in here, and he couldn’t breathe—

“Stop!” He slammed his hand against the door. Everythingfell away around him, leaving only his frantic breaths, only darkness, only thewalls closing in, crushing him…

“Computer, emergency override, open lift doors.” Handscaught him, pulled at him. “Garak, come on. Garak.”

He surrendered to those hands, just as he’d done in thecrawlspace at Internment Camp 371. There was an odd lurch, a sense of being lifted,and then he was on solid ground again.

“Elim, look at me.” A warm hand on his cheek. “Garak, I’mhere. You’re safe.”

Julian. Yes. “I can’t breathe.”

“You’re all right, you’re not trapped. We’re back on thePromenade.”

The Promenade. He blinked, twisted. The lift lurked behindthem, doors frozen open by Julian’s emergency override. The damned contraptionstill looked like it wanted to eat him. It was at an odd angle now, though.Sideways.

Oh. It’s me, not thelift. I collapsed again. Lovely. He splayed a hand against the cold deckand pushed into a seated position. Julian knelt beside him, expression almoststubbornly professional. “Easy, Garak,” he said, grasping Garak’s shoulders.“Not too fast.”

“I believe I’m somewhat better now.” His heart still thumpeddramatically, and his breaths raced as if he’d just flowed through acomplicated series of stratagems. And his head…oh,how it ached. But the walls remained stationary.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Garak?” Julian’s voicethrummed with barely suppressed fury. “Why didn’t you tell me you were havingtrouble with the lifts?”

All my lessonscertainly haven’t gone to waste. He’s getting quite good at this. “Why doyou assume I was having trouble prior to this?”

That earned a look that the doctor usually reserved for hisworst patients. Which was perfectly fair, in truth. “You should have told me.How many times did you try?”

The tightness in Garak’s chest finally eased, and he manageda deep breath. The air filled his lungs, clearing his head. “Three, but thiswas my best attempt. I actually managed to stay in until it began moving. Quiteremarkable, to say the least.”

Julian caught his arms and tugged. “Come on. Get up.”

Absolutely not. Garak rocked his weight back and remainedfirmly in place. “I’m not up to another try, Doctor. I believe I’ll just sleephere tonight.”

“Do you really think I’d try to shove you back into a small,dark space?” Julian gave another pull, and Garak didn’t resist this time. “I’mnot forcing you to come home, but I’m also not gonna leave you sleeping on thedeck. You’ll give yourself hypothermia.”

Another annoyingly fair point. Garak let himself meltagainst the doctor’s side. “So, where are we going?”

“As you pointed out earlier, I happen to have an Infirmarynot too far away.” The gently teasing note returned to Julian’s voice, and herubbed Garak’s arm. “An Infirmary with lots of beds.”

That was certainly a better alternative than another trip inthat damned coffin of a lift. Garak leaned closer, greedily absorbing the warmcomfort that Julian so freely offered. “Lead the way, then.”

#garashir #garak x bashir #elim garak #julian bashir #star trek #deep space nine #ds9 #plain simple writing

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platypus-quacks-too · 5 years

Text

*Deep breathe*

Here we are. Roughly 16 hours later, a storm of emotions still going on, sleepless, here I am. One last time. Not that I think the world needs to read my stance, but I need to write down as much as I can. Shall we go? Let’s go.

* As you probably understood at this point, I loved it. Was it perfect? No. Did I wish [lists of stuff]? Yes. Do I agree with those couple of things we all know? Controversial but I am okay. But just like the overall show, the final balance is good. I am good. I say goodbye with happy tears. That was really all I wanted.

* I am SO relieved they won in the end. Of course we all dreamed of it, it seemed close but... you can never tell. At a certain point I had convinced only Amy would have won, or some sort similar odd thing. I was just extremely happy when they received that call. My babies. I am so proud.

* We were all Leonard slapping Sheldon LOL Filed under: the things I didn’t know I wanted until I saw them

* First tweepadock in the room: Amy’s makeover. Now, if you are around these places long enough, you probably remember I’ve never been a fan of this idea. Remember, when Mayim said she would have liked an Ugly Duckling sort or plot? Or like when two days ago I published a story with the same identical premise, but took a whole different stance? (I swear I was unspoiled!!! Steve, stop lurking our fics LOL). The plot twist here? I actually enjoyed what they have done. Look, I think Amy is a phenomenal person, who doesn’t need to be defined by what she wears. I love herstyle, I love her grandma’s clothes. Sheldon thinks the same (and he explicitly said it <3). But... I understand it can be tricky to find the right balance between how one is and how you appears. Sometimes you try to be prettier (whatever this means) more for yourself than the others. At a certain point, Amy says a very powerful thing: she won’t change back because of her man. People’s comments may have triggered her change at first, but she ultimately did it for herself. And the change itself? Except for the first outfit (it was cool, but it wasn’t much her), all the other clothes fit her so well. It was different, but it was still Amy. A prouder, even more confident, fiercer Amy. I love it. (Don’t get me started on the short hair because- well, you know).

* No, really, I love short-haired Amy.

* THE ELEVATOR. It had become some sort of recurring joke the fact they would fix it in the last episode and well, when it turned out it was effectively so I was WOW. I loved that in the short presence in the show it has already managed to be the center of some funny scene. The bit alone with everyonetrying to fit in? Classical physical comedy and I loved it so much.

* I liked they returned to the Cheesecake factory one last time. * ‘You made sex as many times as my fingers’ ‘These times more, the new avengers trailer’ Bring me the fic of Sheldon worked up by the Avengers trailer, please and thank you. Also I appreciate they addressed shamy coitus one last time at least.

* Amy casually wearing her nobel dress home and longing on the couch barefoot and with her tiara is my aesthetic. The bit when she stops Sheldon before putting it on? Awwww. My girl. That’s my girl.

* Aaaand second tweepadock: Penny’s pregnancy. This, I definitely didn’t see it coming. For one side, I am not a fan of a whole season telling us she doesn’t want them and suddenly she is pregnant. It’s Bernadette all over again. On the other side, just like Bernie... she seems to have changed her mind somehow? Look, I think they would have done better if she remained childless. On the other hand, please always remind that whenever you defend the right of a woman to not wanting babies, you have to defend her right to change her mind too. It happens. One way and the other. Was this absolutely some fanservice to make fans happy? Yes. There’s something wrong with this? No. If this week taught me something is that fanservice is not the evil thing people like to tell. As long as you show me these characters are happy with that... screw whatever, they’re happy. And yes, at the end the mention of the smart and beautiful babies made me cry, okay?

* Again on the pregnancy department: we didn't have any announcement for Shamy. And I am okay with this. Honestly, they had so much going on already that this would have been a little too much. And anyway, we know for sure these babies exist, I am happy. Also, I am 100% confident that the fact a show over the their father's childhood is still on air will mean we will know some more about them sooner or later. So, it's okay. Sure, I wish we had seen their reactions. But they cannot ruin a dream if it remains so, no?

* And to close the babies realm, Halley and Michale!!! That was unexpected. Awwww. Especially Halley is so cute. Does she look a lot like the actress playing young Bernie in YS? Lovely, lovely.

* Are we all ignoring the highly disturbing and LOL fact that Amy for a long second implied Penny's baby was Sheldon's? I was WTF Amyyyy!!!! I am still elaborating.

* Last tweepadock in the room: ranu. A tiny part of me still hoped something could change, but nope... but at least they didn't put him with some random character thrown there at the last minute, so as long it will stated otherwise, he reunited with Anu some time later and I will fight whoever says otherwise.

* Buffy LOL Silly, unexpected last cameo. It was fun though. When Sheldon interrupted his Nobel speech to acknowledge her I cracked LOL

* 139 and half hours. It gets even funnier the moment you know it’s the total sum of running time of the whole series.

* Amy's speech was short but great. I am so proud of both, but I am so proud of her. I loved she had her chance to be an amazing example for women. Kids, look at her, she is great. * And tbh they were both so gorgeous and proud and beautiful.

* My shamy heart exploded when Sheldon looked at Amy and told her I love you in front of the whole world. Their eyes. Their faces as they come close. The little kiss, that was so sweet. There’s a brief moment right before that he looks at her and his eyes sparkle. Gooddamn, my babies won the Nobel and this came out their love. How glorious is this?

* Finally, Sheldon's speech. I have so many feelings about it. I truly think it was a turning point for him. Sure, he changed and grown so much over the years. But I felt like he truly, totally, absolutely embraced the best part of himself on that stage. The part that loves and ultimately brought him there. He sincerely thanks all the people in his live, he truly acknowledge them. It was moving, sweet, and glorious. I am grateful the last scene of the show is actually a big I love you these characters tell each other. A tribute to friendship, love, and the families you make along the road. Can you believe that Sheldon Lee Cooper very last line in the show is ‘Thank you’?

* A small parenthesis about that last scene at the end of YS (fun, I said the same thing last year LOL). It connected and mirrored perfectly the main show’s ending. Sheldon wants the lonely neutrino wins. It turns out, the aggregating quarks win. I admit this was where I truly lost it and started to cry. As I saw the younger versions of my beloved (one day you’ll hear my ted talk about how perfect everyone is and LITTLE AMY READING LITTLE PRAIRIE BOOK fadjkfsjkfsekjfsk) - anyway, as I saw them and Shedon’s closing words. Ugh. They are quarks. Filed under, why I love this dumb show(s).

* Last. The tag. Oh my. You know, sometimes I dreamed about the very end. It was usually something very close to this. All of them around that table, eating or playing, together and happy. Sometimes the kids were also in the picture, sometimes they don’t (I’d say it was both true and false, as baby Lenny was actually there in Penny’s belly).(Oh, Penny also wears the same tank top she has in her very first scene). And when I saw that right in front of me, with that beautiful version of the theme on the background... simply the seven (and a half) of them, happy and in love and successful (shamy’s medals!!!) There wasn’t a better way to end it. It was the only right way to end it. Thank you. Goodbye, my friends.

#The Big Bang Theory #shamy #lenny #howardette #ranu #unrequested opinion

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trillscienceofficer · 6 years

Text

yes hello today I cranked out ~1500 words of sad kiradax + kiraezri fic based on this post that I guess is going to be the first Trek fic I publish anywhere. Set technically after 7x07 but it’s an AU, so

fair warning there are probably some mistakes. feedback is very welcome.

---

“If Worf hadn’t come along, it would’ve been you.”

Kira blinks. It takes a couple of seconds for the words to register, and during that time Ezri’s smile fades and her eyes widen almost comically. Like the words she just said are as unexpected for her as they are for Kira.

“I need to go,” Ezri mumbles, and she’s on her feet so quickly that the chair almost topples down behind her. Ezri doesn’t raise her gaze towards Kira as she skirts the table and rushes towards the door.

Kira watches her leave Quark’s, and blinks again a couple of times before a shout of ‘dabo’ pierces the fog that has settled in her mind.

It would’ve been you.

Ezri must’ve been confused, Kira thinks while walking towards her quarters. Another one of those moments when the memories of Dax’s past hosts mix up and she can’t unravel the knot of who thought what.

Jadzia’s smirk flashes in her mind just as Kira reaches the turbolift, and she closes her eyes, the heavy familiar weight of her absence settling around her guts.

It would’ve been you.

“Habitat ring,” Kira spits out, wishing she would stop thinking about it already.

The turbolift whirrs and clunks then sets in motion. Kira leans with her back against the metal.

It would’ve been you.

It’s not until later, when Kira has revisited all the memories of Jadzia already worn frayed by grief, asking herself if she had been making the wrong assumptions all along, that she’s able to make sense of those words.

It would’ve been you.

“If you’d asked, I would’ve said yes,” Kira whispers in the dark of quarters.

A sob wracks her chest and she clamps a hand on her mouth.

Odo finds her not long after, still unable to stop crying and incapable of explaining what’s wrong. It’s all too much, too unfair—

Like losing Jadzia a second time.

Exhausted, Kira falls asleep in Odo’s arms well into the night, but she finds no rest in her dreams.

Kira marches into the Station Counselor’s office more than ready to get this over with. The massive headache she’s woken up with has not dissipated during the morning service, and her mood is less than conciliatory.

All of it must be obvious on her face because as she steps in Ezri freezes behind her desk like a startled hyurin, eyes unblinking. Kira waits until the doors hiss closed behind her before speaking.

“Is it true?” she says, not caring if it sounds menacing. “What you said last night. Is it true?”

Ezri stays still for a long time, and Kira thinks she’ll feign ignorance. But then she deflates, and diverts her eyes towards the surface of the desk. “I think so. But I wasn’t supposed to tell you.”

“Why,” Kira asks hoarsely.

“I didn’t— Jadzia didn’t want to put you in a difficult position.”

“And what does that mean?”

“There just never was a good moment to tell you.” Ezri looks up at her, and her expression is so miserable that it makes Kira pause. “There was Bareil, and then he died and you grieved him for months. Then there was Lenara and I was— I mean it was Jadzia’s turn to be heartbroken. And then Shakaar.” Ezri shakes her head. “The timing was never right.”

Kira almost sways. Prophets. She needs to sit down.

There’s a couch against the wall in front of Ezri’s desk, and Kira takes her place there, leaning with her elbows on her knees and taking her head in both hands.

It’s worse than she thought. It’s been years. Years of not realizing what was in front her eyes. She can picture Jadzia’s smile like she was in front of her, cracking a joke. She’d cry again, if she had any tears left from last night.

She hears Ezri moving closer, then stopping short in front of her.

Kira lifts her head up to look at her. “I didn’t know,” she whispers, voice grating on her throat.

“That was part of the reason I didn’t tell you before and I shouldn’t have told you last night,” Ezri replies with a frown. She crouches down in front of Kira before continuing. “And, because the timing still isn’t right.”

“Then why did you?”

Ezri sighs, and stares the floor in front of her before answering. “We were reminiscing and you were laughing and I— the words just came out. I’m sorry.”

Kira closes her eyes and exhales. When she opens them again Ezri is still there, waiting. This girl— she couldn’t be more different than Jadzia, with her round face, her scruffy hair and her rambling. But she’s so still, and the way she’s looking at her now—

It’s so sudden that Kira swears she hears the click inside her head, and all her hostility dissipates like morning frost under the sun. It’s her. The young Trill before her really is Dax.

Kira lets out a startled laugh, and Ezri’s alarmed expression only causes her to laugh more until they’re both guffawing without knowing why.

The moment winds down and they stare at each other in awkward silence; Kira’s mind is blank, the headache only making it all worse. It’s Ezri that breaks the stillness, and hesitantly lays a hand on Kira’s knee.

“I really didn’t want you to know, especially not like this.”

Kira sighs. “You were right. It’s still not a good time.”

“I know,” she says and looks away, hurt.

“Ezri,” Kira leans in, and cups Ezri’s cheek with her hand. “I know you’re Dax, but you’re not Jadzia. Now it’s not a good moment for you, either.”

Ezri only glances at Kira for a moment, eyes bright. “I know that too. It’s just— not that easy to learn the distinction.” She makes a face. “At least it’s out in the open now.”

Kira takes back her hand and chuckles. It’s all so damn complicated with Dax. Kira doesn’t know how Sisko ever coped with them.

“I wish so many things had gone differently,” Kira says in the end.

Ezri nods. “Me too.”

“I really had no idea that Jadzia—” Kira trails off, hesitant to qualify the feelings of her dead friend.

“Loved you?” Ezri concludes for her. She remains silent for a moment, eyes losing focus. “I think she was afraid of not being the right person for you, because there were parts of you she knew she couldn’t understand fully. She didn’t want to force it.”

Kira’s jaw clenches. “Between me and her I don’t know who was blinder.”

“The timing—”

“— wasn’t right. Yeah.” Kira wipes her eyes with a hand.

Ezri squeezes her knee with a hand, and Kira can’t help but smile in return.

“You must be tired of squatting like that. You can sit here too you know.”

Ezri complies and plops down on the couch on Kira’s left side, crossing her feet under her legs.

“What do we do now?” Ezri asks. Kira can’t sense any particular expectation in her tone.

“Live with the consequences?” Kira deadpans, then she turns towards Ezri with a smirk.

Ezri laughs, but soon she sobers up, looking in the distance with hunched shoulders.

“You and Jadzia— you both found other relationships that made you happy. You have Odo. Don’t worry too much about what could’ve been, if you can.”

Kira’s chest tightens. Ezri is trying so hard.

“Is that the counselor speaking?”

“I heard I did a passable job lately,” Ezri replies, pursing her lips.

Kira chuckles. “I suppose we should both follow your advice. We can only go forward.”

“You see, I wasn’t wrong. You’d really make a good counselor,” Ezri says with a small smile.

Kira can’t help but laugh. Dax and their humor— never the same and yet always there. Still smiling, Kira leans back on the couch and closes her eyes.

“If I were the counselor,” she says, “I would get a more comfortable couch.”

“Oh, the chair behind the desk is terrible too, but the budget doesn’t allow for replacements. I’m stuck with all this old and uncomfortable Cardassian furniture.” Ezri pauses. “Hmm. There’s a metaphor in there somewhere.”

Kira’s eyes flutter open, and she stares at Ezri for a long moment. She could reply that there’s a lot of unwanted and ugly Cardassian junk in her head too, but her heart is always twice as heavy when the small frame of Ezri’s shoulders sag.

“Ezri,” she murmurs, and reaches out to cup her cheek with her hand once again.

Ezri covers Kira’s hand with her own, and the corners of her mouth turn up. “Nerys, don’t worry about me. I’m ok.” Her lips flatten, and she raises her eyes to look at Kira. “Alright maybe I’m not ok. But I will be.”

Kira can only grin at that declaration of defiance. Both of them will be ok, she’s sure of it.

Later, Ezri accompanies her to the door. Kira sees her linking her hands behind her back and her restless gaze well before she stops to voice her question.

“Would you— would you still meet me at Quark’s like we were doing before—”

“Of course,” Kira says gently.

Ezri looks up at her. “If you need more time to process—”

“I will take it, I promise.” Kira hesitates. It’s probably too soon to say out loud what’s going on in her mind, but she’s been cautious enough for one lifetime. “Talking to you helps, too.”

The bashful smile Ezri gives her in return remains with her even after the doors of the Station Counselor’s office close behind her.

It would’ve been you.

If speaking her mind was a bad idea Kira can’t bring herself to care.

(end.)

* Memory Beta informs me that a hyurin is a small bajoran rodent.

#this is not... deep or anything just me being sad about dax #and also kira being sad about dax #not posting it to ao3 bc it needs a beta #kiradax #kiraezri #actual trek content #rip mobile users #actual trek fic #ds9 #kira nerys #ezri dax #jadzia dax #or the ghost thereof

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vortaesthetic · 6 years

Text

Come Dancing (1/2)

(Go peek under the cut!)

Weyoun 6 peered at himself in the mirror as hard as he could, examining the shape of his face and the nature of his features. Without a sense of aesthetics, he was lost. He could only describe himself in a very broad, generalist sense. The most accurate description he could make of himself would check the box on every other Vorta male he knew.

He had two eyes, with violet irises that were much larger than typical humanoid eyes, as all Vorta do. His eyelashes and eyebrows were dark. He had elongated, ridged ears, the same auditory amplifying nodes that were the trait of all Vorta. His skin tone was pale. His nose and jaw were of typical humanoid shape. He was shorter than most men on the station. His features appeared to be consistent with that of a middle-aged man.

He didn't understand.

How did one decide what was 'beautiful' or 'handsome?' The physical qualifiers for that seemed to change depending on the species. According to what he'd read, it also had to do with confidence. With other things like wealth or youth. Charisma.

This wasn't telling him anything. He could stare at himself all day and not find out a thing.

Besides, he remembers what her friends said about him during the occupation. He remembers overhearing them talking about him, sauced with liquor. How they disliked talking to him. How 'plastic' his smile was. How 'creepy' he was. How they wanted to wipe the smile of of his 'ugly little face.' They compared him disfavorably to some manner of rodent to uproarious laughter.

No...

He couldn't be a good looking person. The odds were stacked against his favor. He didn't look at all like any of the other people she's dated. They were strong, noble types. Young, vigorous, or brilliant. People always spoke of how charming and young Bashir was or how stalwart and honorable Worf was.

Were there any superlatives that applied to him? Any good ones? He couldn't think of any.

He thought of what that one officer at the bar had told him a few nights ago. He'd accused him of "robbing the cradle," which was obviously meant to imply that Six was too old or poorly matched to be in a relationship with Dax. Yes, he understood the man had been jealous...but was there not a certain grain of truth to it? He hadn't been the first one to say such a thing, either. He likely would not be the last.

What was age to either of them, anyway? This body was a scant year old, but the mind it housed has been around for many lifetimes. Dax was over three-hundred years old, but Ezri was in her twenties. Age as a number had ceased to have meaning. But other people wouldn’t think that way.

Six turned to the side then, shrugging out of his jacket to analyze his physique. He wasn't muscular or toned like the other men that he'd seen. Just as he pinched the soft skin at his hip, Ezri came barging in.

"Uh, Six...What are you doing?"

"N-nothing," he cried as he spun around, pulling his undershirt back into place. He tried to effect a casual style and posture, the effect ruined by his fluster. "Ah, Zee! Welcome home. How was your day? I trust it went well..."

"Morn was being difficult again," Ezri sighed, shrugging out of her stiff uniform top down to her long-sleeved undershirt, slinging her dress blacks onto the back of the settee where Six snatched it up, popping it in the washbasket. "Quark said something today that got him all up in a tizzy, so we had to unpack that. And that's what gets me, he's not even my patient! His mom is! I swear."

She had to laugh at Six's extreme fastidiousness; however much he had deviated from the mold, his extreme attachment or orderliness was still very much a part of him, as was his extreme curiosity and his genetically engineered proclivity for subtle and ambiguous facial expressions. As sweet and earnest as he was, he was also like reading an enigma tale, full of twisted knots of guilt and frustration and veiled motives. But she meant that in the best possible way. He was her Younie, a sweet and gentle jumble of nerves and hopefulness and insecurities.

Despite his helpfulness-- cleaning their quarters, having dinner ready for her-- it was obvious that there was something bothering him.

He wouldn't be trying so hard to hide it, otherwise.

They sat at the table, working on dinner together. He asked about the station gossip of the day, what their friends were up to...he seemed to want her to keep her on her toes. Odd.

““Speaking of what’s going on, I have heard that there’s going to be a little gala at Vic’s at the end of the week. Courtesy of Quark and the Bajoran War Orphans Fund,” she says as she polishes off the rest of her bowl of fried azna.

“You don’t suppose Quark knows that we’re aware that that’s not a real charity?”

“No, and we’re not going to tell him we know, either. It’s like an in-joke at this point. He pays enough to the magistrate in fines that some of it actually does go to charity, so it works out. Just think about it...drinks, dinner...a little bit of dancing...”

“From the sound of it, you’ve thought about it a lot.”

“Maybe,” she teased, moving over to join him on the couch. “We’ve been cooped up for a week. Don’t you think it would be nice to get out? Spend some time with our friends, get some fresh air? Allow me to show you off?”

Weyoun blushed. She spoke of showing him off as if he were some sort of prize.

“If that’s what you want, I have no problem with that--”

“No problem? I thought you’d be a little more enthusiastic about it,” She quipped coyly, slipping her fingertip just under the collar of his shirt and teasing him with the softest of touches on his collarbone. “It’s not like we’re going to a trial. Just a night out on the town. Dinner, dancing...something special at the end, maybe. Just for you.”

“I don’t have anything to wear, but I suppose I could talk to Garak.”

“You do that,” she says, pecking him softly on the corner of his lips, reveling in the hot blush that colored his cheeks and the hitching of his breath. “It’s a date! No backing out! You’re going to have a great time, I promise.”

“As long as you’re there, how could it be anything but? I look forward to it, Zee. I would be honored to accompany you.”

“Sweeter words have never been spoken,” she teased as she moved in to claim his lips in another kiss. Everything sort of melted away after that, a sunburn of bliss that had faded out everything he’d been worried about and gotten him drunk on her. Her soft touches, her sensual whispers... the way she bit her lip. Her eyes. The way she could cut through his dissembling layers down to the heart of things and render him defenseless. If he was a code, she had the key.

She was incredible. Like nothing else he’d ever experienced before in life. He knew without doubt that there would only ever be one Ezri Dax and she had inexplicably picked him.

He was apparently pleasing enough to her. That was all he needed to know for now.

(1/2)

#weyezri #weyoun #weyoun 6 #ezri dax #dribble drabble #i'm going to make weyezri happen whether you like it or not

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ameerawritesstuff · 6 years

Note

I can't decide! 51 through 54 struck me h a r d. If you wanted to do any of them that would be amazing. 51: “ I want to take care of you. ” 52: “ Can we cuddle? ” 53: “ It’s lonely here without you. ” 54: “ I can’t stand the thought of loosing you. ”

I DID THEM ALL BECAUSE YES

51 “I Want To Take Care of You”

“I want to take care of you.” When Garak said that, Julian was sure he was joking. “Therefore, I volunteered for the job.”

“What job?” Julian asked in tired confusion. He had just woken up to Garak in his quarters (again) and now the Cardassian was going on about taking care of him?

“The Senior Staff of this station has reached the consensus that you need to take a break from work.” Garak said happily. “I said I would be happy to ensure you rest.”

“You’re joking.” Julian laughed. When Garak’s face didn’t change, Julian’s eyes grew wide. “You’re serious?!”

“Yes, doctor.” Garak smiled.

“You’re telling me Commander Sisko asked you to…” Julian shook his head. “I don’t even know what to call this.”

“It was really Commander Dax and Chief O’Brien who felt there was a need.” Garak admitted. “And, again, no one asked me. I volunteered.”

“I don’t need a babysitter.” Julian frowned.

“You were imprisoned for a month, replaced by a changeling, and then had your most closely-guarded secret revealed to the world.” Garak challenged. “Not to mention, your father was just sent to prison. You’ve been advised to take some time off, but you haven’t.”

“So now you’re going to ensure I do nothing productive?” Julian groaned.

“I’m going to ensure that you actually relax for once.” Garak said as he moved to the side of Julian’s bed. “Now, what can I do for you.”

“I don’t suppose you can simply leave me alone?” Julian sighed. “But, honestly, Garak, this is unnecessary.”

“Humor me then.” Garak smiled and he sat down on the edge of the bed. “I’ll admit that this is for my own good as well as yours.” Julian looked at Garak in confusion and the Cardassian looked regretful. “I should have taken care of you earlier, so I’m trying to make up for how greatly I’ve failed you.”

“You saved us all from the prison camp.” Julian said. “It’s not your fault that you didn’t know about the changeling. You came when I needed you and you saved me.” He tried to soothe Garak with a warm smile, but Garak simply looked away.

“It’s not just that.” Garak whispered. “I should have stopped Zimmerman.” Garak gave Julian a pained expression. “I should have protected you.”

“You didn’t know I needed protecting.” Julian chuckled, not really understanding.

“But I should have.” Garak said. “You are very dear to me, and yet I have failed you again and again.” Julian found himself placing his hand on top of Garak’s.

“Garak, you have never failed me.” Julian said firmly. “You say I’m dear to you, that’s all I’ve wanted.” Garak looked deep into Julian’s eyes and Julian could feel the two of them closing the gap between them. It was slow and subtle, but Julian felt the electricity in the air before a kiss.

“Well, I can still take care of you now.” Garak said quickly as he stood up, stopping their lips from every touching. “Wait right here and I’ll prepare breakfast for you.” Julian was left alone in bed, blinking in confusion as he wondered what just happened?

52 “Can We Cuddle?”

“Can we cuddle?” Julian asked as if he was more desperate than he was. “To huddle for warmth, I mean.” He was only a bit chilly himself, nothing too uncomfortable, but he knew Garak must be freezing and was too prideful to ask.

“That would probably be prudent.” Garak nodded stiffly, clearly trying to keep himself from shivering. Julian walked over to the cot in their crashed runabout and motioned for Garak to lie down first.

“Don’t fight me on this,” Julian began once he was lying on top of Garak. “But I’m going to ask you to take off the survival jacket.” Garak gave Julian a horrified look. “Just so we can both use it as a blanket! It will keep us both warmer that way in the long run.” Garak frowned but awkwardly moved himself out of the jacket and then quickly draped it over the two of them.

“That’s better.” Julian smiled as he lay his head on Garak’s chest. “Are you tired? We can try to go to sleep if you’d like.”

“There is no way I will be able to sleep when it’s this c-c-cold.” Garak looked angry at himself for letting his teeth chatter.

“Good, because I’m wide awake myself.” Julian smiled, trying his best to make Garak feel better. “You know, I never got to tell you my thoughts on He Falters.” It had been a Cardassian play that Garak had recommended to Julian a little while ago, but they hadn’t had the chance to discuss it.

“A cautionary tale.” Garak nodded.

“A tragedy.” Julian clarified. “Dronar is ultimately punished for sacrificing so much for his wife.” Garak let out the long suffering sigh he always let out when he was about to correct Julian. Julian rather liked feeling it from Garak’s chest.

“Dronar is punished for lying.” Garak shook his head. “He should have reported his wife as insane when she first started to go mad.”

“She would have been disowned by her father!” Julian argued. “Her father’s approval meant everything to her.”

“So you viewed his defense of her as sentimental…” Garak chuckled. “My dear, he only wants to keep the connection to his father-in-law due to the man’s status.”

“That was an element.” Julian conceded. “But by the end when Dronar is arrested, he would have been released if he’d revealed her madness necessitating him stealing the medicine.”

“It still would have been stealing.” Garak scoffed.

“No room for compassion in the Cardassian heart?” Julian smirked.

“None.” Garak said stoically.

“That means you’re not cuddling with me now because I asked.” Julian challenged. “If you’re truly self-serving, you just admitted that you’re doing this for your own benefit.”

“It’s no secret that I’m cold.” Garak scowled. “And since we can’t be rescued until after the storm passes, I’m doing my best to survive.”

“But it was my suggestion.” Julian countered with a smirk. “You were too proud to ask despite having the greater need. So if everything you do is without compassion, that means you had a selfish motivation for remaining cold as well.” Julian sighed and clicked his tongue. “Now, what could that reason be?”

“Don’t forget that we Cardassians are also naturally xenophobic.” Garak said with amusement. “Perhaps the idea of letting a Human be so close to me is just too repulsive.”

“Even though my being Human means I’m a better heat source?”

“While the heat is lovely, there’s still a certain mammalian stench that…” Garak inhaled deeply and shook his head. “Frankly, is unmistakable.”

“Unmistakable doesn’t mean unpleasant.” Julian grinned. He then noticed he could hear how fast Garak’s heartbeat was as he lay there on his chest. He glanced at Garak’s face and saw that his scales had changed color ever so slightly to a pale blue. Julian blinked in surprise and then smirked. “Garak… are you aroused right now?”

“Really, doctor!” Garak said as if he were horribly offended. Still, he didn’t deny it.

“You are, aren’t you!” Julian accused with laughter.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Garak said, looking a bit miffed.

“Garak, it’s alright.” Julian said softly as he raised his hand to Garak’s cheek. Garak’s eyes were wide with surprise as Julian pulled him into a kiss. “We have to do something to pass the time, right?” Julian purred.

“Hmm?” Garak’s eyes had slipped closed and his scales had flushed a dark shade almost like charcoal.

“After all, you said you couldn’t sleep.” Julian continued as he moved his hand down Garak’s chest.

“I suppose we might as well.” Garak breathed as he moved his own hand down Julian’s back. The frigid air of the shuttle was all but forgotten.

53 “It’s Lonely Here Without You”

My Dear Garak,

It’s lonely here without you. Without everyone. I was lonely before Ezri left, to tell the truth, but it solidified how much I was using her to fill the void.

Nerys and I get drinks and reminisce about old times at Quark’s. It ends up making me more depressed somehow. I’ve been trying to spend more time with Jake as well; I can’t imagine the pain he’s going through. Kassidy is great for him, and I think her pregnancy gives him a nice distraction that makes him feel closer to his father, but it’s clear he’s hurting.

I’m not trying to burden you with my woes, you certainly have enough of your own as you rebuild. I’m just trying to say that you’re missed and if you ever have reason to visit, well, I’d be more than delighted to see you.

Miles actually was here last week for a few days. He said it was to help his replacement get used to this “Cardie Bastard” but I think he secretly missed DS9. We played darts and a few holoprograms but it actually didn’t feel like enough.

What I’m trying to say is that I miss you, Garak. I would even if everyone else was still here. I hardly go to the replimat anymore since it feels wrong to eat there without you. How pathetic is that? I’ve turned one of the most generic parts of the station into “our place.” I even reread The Never-Ending Sacrifice, I’ve been thinking about you so much. I still find it to be one of the most tedious things I’ve ever read, but I enjoyed imagining your criticisms of my thoughts.

I don’t know what I’m trying to say exactly. Please write back?

Always,

Julian Bashir

54 “I Can’t Stand The Thought of Losing You”

“I can’t stand the thought of losing you.” Julian smiled as he stroked Garak’s hair. “Now that we’re finally together, I don’t ever want to leave this bed.”

“Fear of losing you is what motivated this in the first place.” Garak smiled back. “When the Defiant went off to find the Founders… it seemed as if you wouldn’t come back at first.”

“But I did.” Julian reminded and then lay a soft kiss on Garak’s cheek. “And you were here to greet me.” Julian bit his lip. “And the Founders are willing to negotiate, so everything worked out.”

“You really think it’s going to be that easy?” Garak frowned. “I don’t trust those violet eyed tyrants and you shouldn’t either.”

“I never said I trusted them.” Julian protested. “I just don’t want a war and it seems like they don’t either.”

“And how much are you willing to sacrifice in order to prevent a war?” Garak pressed.

“Do we have to talk about this?” Julian whined. “We’re finally together and all you want to talk about is our impending doom?”

“I never said ‘impending doom’.” Garak countered. “But it’s interesting that you did.”

“I don’t know what’s going to happen.” Julian sighed. “But I do know, without a doubt, that we’ll face whatever it is together and I’m not going to leave your side.” They kissed after he made that promise. A promise Julian would have kept even after Garak lay their lifeless on the floor, if Commander Sisko hadn’t pulled him away.

When Julian woke up from the simulation, all he could think about was Garak.

#star trek ds9 #Garak/Bashir #garak x bashir #garashir #prompted writing #fanfic #fanfiction #fic

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autieami-blog · 6 years

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Matters of Faith: Chapter 1 (a DS9 fic)

Yoooo I’m posting the first chapter (1,700 words) of a new fic below--

It takes place during the Dominion occupation of DS9. It follows a Vorta who comes to Bajor as a Dominion representative. Themes are religion, free will, ethics, found families, Kira being sarcastic, Odo being grumpy, the Vorta being very confused, cute little kids, and emotional turmoil.

Chapter 1 of like, 5 or 6 total probably?

Matters of Faith, chapter 1: The Dominion Walks Into a Bar

The bar was dimly lit. It always was, these days. Supposedly to save money on lighting costs, but Kira suspected that the real reason Quark kept the place so dark was so that he didn’t have to see the bragging, swaggering Cardassians and the sulking Jem’Hadar littering the tables that had been so recently filled by laughing Bajorans, talkative Humans, Andorians and Bolians trading jokes and playing Dabbo.

Or perhaps she was injecting too much of her own mood into it, and Quark was just staying true to his miserly ways. Either way, she didn’t mind the shadows obscuring the ugly faces of the occupying force.

“Something on your mind, Major?” a gravelly voice said, interrupting her thoughts. She turned to smile at Odo, sitting next to her at the bar.

“I’ll give you three guesses what,” she said, taking a sip of her drink.

“Mmm. The color of the decorations for next year’s Gratitude Festival on Bajor?” he deadpanned.

Kira snorted with laughter. A Jem’Hadar at a nearby table gave her a disapproving glare, and her smile faded.

“I wonder if we’ll have one,” she said quietly.

Odo wrinkled his brow. “Why wouldn’t there be one? Has the Dominion shown any sign of opposing it? I can talk to Weyoun if so.”

“Not yet,” she shook her head, earring jangling. “But you know how it is with takeovers. The Cardassians made sure one of their top priorities was cutting down on religious observances. You can’t have a slave thinking anything more than the day’s labor exists. They might start thinking there are more important things than bowing down to their scaly masters,” she replied bitterly.

Odo grunted and turned to look at the entrance.

A Vorta stood in the doorway, tailed by a group of hulking Jem’Hadar. The Vorta, who looked ludicrously small next to the soldiers, looked around the room until her gaze fell on Odo and Kira with a benevolent smile.

“Oh, joy. Another visitor come to lick your boots,” Kira said, rolling her eyes. “I think an important duty has just come up for me on the other side of the station.”

Odo raised an eyebrow. “I thought you found watching it amusing.”

“Oh, I do, but the entertainment value doesn’t make up for the sickening factor.”

Kira started to push back her chair and leave, but the Vorta had already waved her attendant Jem’Hadar off to another table and was approaching them, hands clasped behind her back.

Odo cast a beseeching glance at Kira, who sighed in defeat and remained sitting, as the Vorta bowed her head in greeting.

“Hello Constable, Major. Might I have the honor of joining you?”

“Pull up a chair and join the party,” Kira said in a tone that sounded like an invitation to a funeral.

“Thank you so much,” the Vorta said, seating herself carefully on a stool beside them.

A low growl came from the table where the newly arrived Jem’Hadar sat. A stocky soldier glared at the three of them, before turning his head away with a sneer.

The Vorta gave a tinkling laugh. “I do apologize for Lorin’Lar. I’m afraid he disapproves of my talking to the False Founder. He disapproves of most things, though, so it’s nothing personal.”

“How reassuring,” Kira said sarcastically.

The Vorta smiled beatifically. Kira wondered if oblivion to insult was programmed into the Vortan genetic code, or if it was just a cultivated talent.

Odo steepled his fingers and gave the Vorta the sternly unamused look he reserved for suspects and people he disliked. “Who are you, and why are you here?”

“What can I get you?” Quark interrupted as he came up to them and leaned on the bar with an elbow.

The Vorta tilted her head in thought. “Hmm. Do you have anything with a good texture?” she asked.

Quark grinned, showing off a row of crooked, pointy teeth. “I have just the thing. Renarian whisky. As smooth on the tongue as a lie.” He filled a glass from behind the counter with a bottle of treacly greenish liquid, and set in on the bar with a flourish before moving off to serve another group of customers.

“Vorta can’t taste much, so we mainly go in for interesting textures,” the Vorta said by way of explanation as she took a careful sip. “You should try Icthian Swampbrew sometime. It feels just like you’re drinking fur.”

Kira suppressed a shudder.

The Vorta took another sip of her glass, then placed it on the bar and clapped her hands together. “So! Who I am and why I’m here.”

Odo crossed his arms “I’m waiting.”

“My name is Dorriv. I have the honor to be a Dominion Representative to the wonderful planet of Bajor. After a brief stop at this station, I’ll be heading planetside to greet our new allies, and to oversee some minor technological manufacturing issues that have arisen because of the Federation’s lack of support. While I’m on the station, I could hardly pass up the opportunity to meet you, Odo.”

“What a surprise,” Kira muttered under her breath.

“Sarcasm, I assume, Major.” Dorriv chuckled. “You forget that we Vorta have even better hearing than your Ferengi.”

“They’re not ‘our’ Ferengi” Odo said with irritation.

“And thank goodness for that!” Quark called from the other side of the room where he was polishing a tabletop.

Kira wondered, silently this time, why two of the most annoying species had been given such good hearing.

“Anyway, as I was saying,” Dorriv continued. “I’ve never had the opportunity to meet a Founder, having been cloned in the Alpha Quadrant, so I’m not going to miss the opportunity to meet one now, even if he is misguided.”

“You’ve met him. Congratulation,” Odo said.

“Thank you!” Dorriv beamed. “I wanted to ask you about your side of the story. I’m trying to learn more about my faith and deepen my understanding of the Founders, so I thought that perhaps you could explain why you’ve decided to forsake the truth.”

“What, the Dominion hasn’t come up with some propaganda-soaked explanation for that yet?” Kira said with a laugh as Odo snorted.

“Of course they have,” Dorriv said. “You’ve been sadly led astray by the devious and hurtful solids, and it’s proof of just how amoral and wicked the enemies of the Dominion are that they could corrupt even a lonely Founder. But you will in time, inevitably, come to see the goodness and superiority of the Dominion and rejoin the fold.”

Kira grinned wickedly. “Poor Odo. I never knew how much we evil solids had corrupted you.”

“I’ve hardly been brainwashed,” Odo growled.

“Of course not, of course not” Dorriv said, sounding like she was reassuring a child. “And so I would like to hear your side of the story.”

“So you can better understand what went wrong?” Kira asked innocently.

“Exactly,” Dorriv replied.

Odo gave the jerk of his head that was his equivalent of rolling his eyes. “Do you believe the Founders always speak the truth?”

“Of course,” she nodded immediately.

“Did the Founders tell you that all Founders were infallible?” he continued.

Dorriv was slower to reply this time.

“Founders may, on rare occasion, be misled. That has been proven by yourself.” she finally said.

“Did they tell you all Founders were infallible?” he pressed.

The Vorta twisted her glass nervously in her hands. “I was cloned in this quadrant. I only know the new rules,” she said defensively.

Odo slammed his hands on the bar. Kira blinked and Dorriv jumped in her seat. At the tables around them, startled patrons looked up briefly, then slowly returned to their drinks and conversations.

“Did the Founders,” Odo growled, his voice filled with contempt as he leaned forward and stared at the Vorta, a single strand of hair falling in front of the dark shadows around his unblinking eyes, “ever tell the Vorta that all Founders were infallible.”

Dorriv squirmed in her seat like a fugitive being grilled. Kira almost—almost—felt sorry for her.

“Yes,” Dorriv finally whispered.

“So they lied to you,” Odo said.

Dorriv started to protest, to make excuses, but Odo cut her off.

“So they lied,” he said.

Dorriv closed her eyes.

“Yes,” she said flatly.

Odo started to speak, when a heavy hand clamped on his shoulder. Turning, he stared into the craggy face of a Jem’Hadar.

“You will leave the Vorta alone, false god,” Lorin’Lar snarled.

“I thought you jarheads were supposed to worship the Founders,” Kira snapped, dark eyes flashing.

“It’s quite alright, Lorin’Lar,” Dorriv spoke up. “You may leave us.”

The Jem’Hadar still glared at Odo, without moving.

“Lorin’Lar!” Dorriv said, frowning sternly. “You will leave.”

The soldier turned and stomped off, heavy feet banging against the floor.

Dorriv sighed. “My apologies. I’m still trying to housetrain that one.” Her hands trembled ever so slightly as she took another sip from her glass, but her gaze was steady again.

Odo grunted. “This conversation has gone on long enough. I have duties to return to. Good day, Major. Dorriv,” he said, saying the Vorta’s name like an insult.

Kira lingered behind as she watched him leave step into the light of the Promenade and walk out of sight.

She turned to Dorriv with an incredulous smile. “You sure don’t act as worshipful as the other Vorta.”

Dorriv frowned. “I know. I’ve been watching the Founder when the others talk to him, and he always seems so uncomfortable. I thought addressing him more casually might make him feel more comfortable. Do you think I went too far? I hope I didn’t offend him. Should I apologize?” she said, wringing her fingers and looking at Kira with confused eyes. “Should I-“

Kira held up her hands to cut the Vorta off and shook her head, laughing. “I’m sure Odo preferred it.”

Dorriv sighed in relief.

“But,” Kira continued, her smile hardening, “you’re still a sycophantic little toady who would burn an orphanage if told to. You’re just trying to pretend you’re not. Cut the crap and think about what he said. Do you want to unflinchingly serve gods that lied to you?” Kira pushed her stool back and walked out without looking back.

The Vorta stared after her for a minute with thoughtful eyes. Finally, she picked up her drink, swirled it lazily, and finished it.

#ds9 #writing #star trek #fanfic #vorta #dominion #founders #odo #kira #jemhadar #i hope its good i honestly have no idea #matters of faith #fic

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aion-rsa · 4 years

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Star Trek: Discovery Season 3 Episode 1 Easter Eggs and References

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This Star Trek: Discovery article contains spoilers for the Season 3 premiere.

You’d think that a new Star Trek series set centuries and centuries beyond any of the shows and movies wouldn’t have that many references to the series and films that came before, right? Well, Star Trek: Discovery Season 3 might be set in a brand new time period — the year 3188 to be precise — but the narrative is built atop the layered history of Trek’s future history super carefully. Showrunner Michelle Paradise and Alex Kurtzman have mentioned several times that 930 years from 2257 puts them well past the constraints of canon, and yet, the debut episode of Discovery Season 3, demonstrates a meticulous understanding of where this show came from, and a desire to keep everything about the larger story of Star Trek, as tightly knit as possible.

In other words, there were a lot more Easter eggs and references in the newest Discovery episode than you might think. Here’s every Easter egg and reference we caught in the first episode of Star Trek: Discovery Season 3, “That Hope Is You, Part 1.”

The saucer of a Federation starship

The first thing we see as Book flies his impressive starship in an attempt to outrun Cosmo, is the wrecked saucer section of what looks like a Starfleet ship. The dead giveaway is the letters “NCC.” Was this a Federation ship from the 31st century? The 30th? Even older? We don’t know, and we probably never will. Every wondered what “NCC” stands for? Well, it’s never actually been established in canon, but in the early days of The Original Series it was designed as an homage to American ships having an “NCC” as part of their registry and Russian vessels using “CCC.” Some apocryphal books claim “NCC” stands for “Naval Construction Class” or “Naval Construction Contract Number.” Basically, the idea that Starfleet still views itself as a kind of Navy would support this theory, but since it’s not actually a Navy, that also doesn’t make a lot of sense.

Space-time anomaly detected

Book’s onboard ship computer tells him that a “space-time anomaly” is detected. This anomaly is the wormhole created by Burnham and the time crystals from the Discovery Season 2 finale, “Such Sweet Sorrow Part 2.”

3188

Burnham lands in the year 3188, which is actually one year further than most fans guessed. Discovery jumped from the year 2257, which means we thought 930 years later would be 3187. But, as we learn later, Burnham also didn’t land on the planet Terralysium, even though that was her destination. Terraylsium was first seen in the Discovery Season 2 episode “New Eden.” Book tells Burnham the planet she ended up on is actually called Hima. Terralysium was in the Beta Quadrant. We have no idea where Hima is.

Burnham is happy there is life

You might wondering why Burnham is so happy that the computer says “Multiple life signs detected.” Well, the whole point to jumping in the future was that in all other scenarios, both Spock and Burnham’s mom, Gabrielle Burnham, saw a future in which an A.I. called Control had eradicated all sentient life in the galaxy. Clearly, that didn’t happen. Which means Burnham’s mission was successful. This is why later, she says, “I saved all the things.”

The last Red Signal is for Spock!

As the computer tells Burnham the wormhole is closing, she frantically sends an energy signal through the wormhole. This is the last of the seven red signals from Discovery Season 2. In “Such Sweet Sorrow Part 2,” Spock waited for four months to see the Red Signal, which was a message from Burnham that the crew had made it through the wormhole safely. Basically, this scene happens “at the same time” as the final scene onboard the Enterprise in the Season 2 finale.

“Delta shield”

As Burnham goes through her inventory she mentions her “emergency ration pack,” her “phaser,” and her “Delta shield.” The Delta shield is her Starfleet badge. Fans have referred to this symbol as a “Delta shield” for years, but it’s never been uttered on screen.

New opening credits

The Discovery opening credits have changed again! Here are the most significant changes

The generic male-ish face now appears to be more female.

There is a line of Starfleet robots. Will they have a larger role to play later in the season?

In the first two seasons, the image of the Discovery-era phaser morphed into the TOS-era phaser. But now, it becomes a FUTURE PHASER.

Book’s ship is in the opening credits.

The new “future” Starfleet logo appears twice—nce by itself, and again, in the transporter. In season 2, a Section 31 badge appeared during this segment.

Michael busts out some Suus Mahna

While fighting Book, Burnham seems to employ at least a few moves from the Vulcan martial art known as Suus Mahna. This martial art originates in the prequel series Enterprise, but we first saw Burnham do it in “Context Is For Kings” in Season 1 of Discovery. We also saw two Synths practice Suus Mahna in the Star Trek: Picard Season 1, episode 9, “Et Arcadia Ego Part 1.”

The nearest natural wormhole could be a DS9 reference

Book mentions that “the nearest natural wormhole is 100 lightyears from here.” This could reference the Bajorian wormhole from Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. After all, there aren’t that many stable wormholes. That said, technically, the Bajorian wormhole isn’t “natural” since it was constructed by the Prophets, but from Book’s point of view, that might not matter.

The Gorn destroyed subspace

Book says: “Wasn’t bad enough for you that the Gorn destroyed two lightyears of subspace?” This references two things at the same time. First, obviously, the Gorn, the lizard-race first seen in the Star Trek: The Original Series episode “Arena,” and subsequently referenced in nearly every new Trek series, including several references in Star Trek: Picard. But, the mention of the Gorn having destroyed subspace means that parts of the interstellar communication network have been obliterated. Subspace is how people get messages around the galaxy in Star Trek. If parts of subspace are destroyed, this could explain why, the Federation representative, Aditya Sahil (Adil Hussian) mentions that long-range sensors “failed, years ago.”

Book references Scotty….and Tilly’s other best friend

When Book says he wants to “whip-up a dilithium recrystalizier,” he’s referencing the idea of dilithium crystals being reconstructed artificially. In Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home, Scotty does this to help get a stolen Klingon Bird-of-Prey home. And, in the Short Treks episode “Runaway,” Tilly meets Po, the Queen of Xahea, who also invents this technology.

Benemite and Quantum Slipstream Drive

Book also wonders if there is some “Benemite lying around.” This references the Voyager episode “Timeless,” in which the crew tried to build a Quantum Slipstream Drive. Basically, if Book had a Quantum Slipstream Drive, he could get around a lot faster.

Tachyon Solar Sails

Book says “tachyon solar sails are slow as shit.” This references the DS9 episode “Explorers,” which sees Ben Sisko building an ancient ship that runs on tachyons solar sails.

Don’t Even Get Me Started On Trilithium

Book completes his rant on different types of Star Trek propulsion and fuel by saying “don’t even get me started on trilithium.” This seems to be kind of a joke. In the TNG episode “Starship Mine,” Trilithium resin was kind of a waste byproduct of the warp engines that could be stolen and turned into a weapon. But in the film Generations, trilithium was something described as a “nuclear inhibitor,” meaning it could make stars implode. So, which is it? Both? Also a form of fuel for space propulsion? Don’t get Book started.

Orions and Andorians

Burnham is shocked that the Orions and the Andorians are working together. The green-skinned Orions originate in the very first (filmed) Star Trek episode ever, “The Cage,” though their culture was later fully explained in the Enterprise episode “Bound.” Orions have appeared in the Discovery era in the Season 1 finale, and also in the Short Treks episode “The Escape Artist.” The blue-skinned Andorians originate in the TOS episode “Journey To Babel.” Why is Burnham surprised the Andorians and the Orions are working together in some kind of official capacity? Well, the Andorians are founding members of the Federation. The Orions, meanwhile, were, at least in Burnham’s time, never part of the Federation.

Burnham is basically selling Star Trek collectables

Book tells the Andorian that “there’s a real market for this stuff,” when he’s trying to sell Burnham’s tricorder. This seems like a wink to the idea that vintage props from TOS or TNG are worth a lot of money IRL. Basically, what Burnham has is a vintage Star Trek prop.

Portable Transporter!

Burnham is wowed by the personal transporters. In the TNG episode “Captain’s Holiday,” time-traveling aliens from the 27th century called Vorgons, appeared to have similar types of transporters.

Burnham says Tilly can’t do space drugs

While trying to get her to talk, Burnham is hit with some form of future narcotic that makes her a slap-happy. She says that the drug makes her talkative and then says “I have a friend with red hair, you cannot give her any.” This references Tilly, of course, but more specifically, the idea that Tilly did some space drugs in the Discovery Season 1 finale, “Will You Take My Hand?”

Aliens rebooted from TNG and DS9

The mercenary who is pursuing Book appears to be a Yridian. In TNG, these aliens were mostly thought of as “information brokers,” notably in the episodes “The Chase” and “Birthright Part 1.” Meanwhile, at least one alien who is in pursuit of Burnham and Book is very clearly a Lurian. The famous patron of Quark’s Bar in DS9 – Morn – was a Lurian. He’s the guy with the long face.

Book references the biggest plot arc from Star Trek: Enterprise

After Book and Burnham have a frank conversation about time travel, Book says: “All time travel technology was destroyed after the temporal wars. Outlawed.” The Temporal Wars references the Temporal Cold War in Enterprise, and probably, the outright Temporal War that happened at the end of Enterprise Season 3 and the beginning of Season 4 in the episodes “Storm Front Parts 1 and 2.” One fashion from the Temporal War Cold War came from the 31st Century, about a hundred years or so before 3188.

Aditya Sahil references Spock

When Burnham meets Aditya Sahil, a Federation liaison in this time period, they have a serious chat about just how long it might take for the USS Discovery to actually show up. He says: “By the laws of temporal mechanics, they could arrive tomorrow…” And Burnham says: “Or in a thousand years.” This references a similar speech from Spock in the TOS episode “City on the Edge of Forever.” Like Burnham and the Discovery crew, Spock and Kirk are separated by time travel wonkiness. Spock says: “There is a theory. There could be some logic to the belief that time is fluid, like a river, with currents, eddies, backwash.” But later, Spock points out that “we can’t be too sure of our facts.” Even the earliest Star Trek time travel episodes dealt with people arriving at their temporal location at different times than people who were “right behind” them in the time portal.

Federation Flag

The episode ends with Burnham and Sahil raising the flag of the United Federation of Planets. We already saw this flag in the trailers, but it’s worth noting that it does appear to have fewer stars on it than the flag from the era of TNG and Picard. Sahil tells Burnham he has been watching this post for 40 years, which seems to imply that this Federation flag is at least 40 years old, if not older. So, the question is, how accurate is the flag? Did the Federation start losing members before the Burn? Or is this flag pre-Burn?

At this point, we don’t know. But because Season 3 of Discovery is all about rediscovering the Federation, this flag might be the visual representation of not just the themes of the season, but the literal plot too.

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Star Trek: Discovery Season 3 airs new episodes on Thursdays on CBS All Access.

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