Sisko found himself in a gray zone. His father was here, as was his sister, Judith...and someone else. His beloved Jennifer smiled at him and he took a step to her, then stopped. Where was Jake?

He felt relieved as he suddenly realized he must be dead and Jake wasn't here. That meant he was still alive as was only right. He was young with his life ahead of him and a name to carry on. He hoped others had also survived, though. He hoped no one else was in a gray zone, too. He wondered if all of Ops had been destroyed and he felt a pang of remorse at the thought of all the dead, all the horrible injuries Bashir would have to treat...if he was still alive, that was...but that was a dim concern now as he looked at these people he loved and had missed so much.

He turned now to his father and sister and wife. They simply waited and he stepped up and held out his arms to gather them to him. They came without hesitation.

He was joyful. He was with loved ones. His elation at being with them was not mitigated by the fact that it meant he was dead. He was with loved ones. He was joyful. He was not alone.

O'Brien found himself in a gray zone. He was alone.

He began to walk and explore, trying not to analyze, because he had a growing sense that he was a man with no future...a man who was dead.

As he searched, he decided he was glad that he was alone, that Keiko wasn't here. He wanted her alive and safe and taking care of their little girl. He felt a pang of regret at causing them both pain, but then he remembered that he had been "dead" once before and knew his strong-willed wife would be all right. That time he and Bashir had been declared dead and if Sisko and Dax had not rescued him in time, he really would have been from a deadly virus.

An odd feeling swept through him as he remembered that he had actually been "killed" more than once in his career. He had killed his own replicant once and even seen his own death during an odd temporal shift caused by the artificial quantum singularity engine design of a renegade Romulan warbird interacting with his irradiated body. In fact, what he thought of as the "real" version of him had actually died during that incident and a "future" version of him had returned to live his life.

Like I told myself then, I hate temporal physics. But I'm that future version of me, I have been since then. So really I died long ago. So this should be familiar, shouldn't it?

Indeed, many strange things had happened to him in his life...now he would be able to reflect on them in this gray zone.

Bashir found himself in the gray zone. He was in the middle of dreaming about a routine operation when the ship exploded and suddenly he was in the middle of one now. But it was not Ensign Pauley he was working on, it was Jadzia Dax.

She was smiling up at him, lovely eyes full of an incredible amount of love and peace and as his hands continued to slip inside her, searching for and finding the symbiont, she closed her eyes and tears of joy dripped down her cheeks. Julian blinked his own tears away as he suddenly realized he was not in his surgical garb, but was wearing a robe...and Jadzia looked much older, perhaps sixty or so years of age.

This was a ceremony; the symbiont transference that Trill undertook at the end of life. He was removing the symbiont to pass it to another host...a pretty young Trill woman with lustrous blonde hair who was looking at him trustingly in the bed beside them. He was so startled that he nearly dropped the symbiont in which resided the memories of a woman he loved

dearly, a good friend and cherished colleague.

As he stood there, he realized his actions were both killing Jadzia and bringing her a renewed and continued life in the body of the young Trill woman next to them. He looked at his friend, looked over at the young Trill and swallowed.

Both women merely waited for Bashir to complete the ceremony he had begun in the gray zone.

Worf found himself in the gray zone. He had been playing baseball in the holosuite, pitching the ball, annoyed that the Ferengi who had rented the room had refused to refund or credit the hour. Jake Sisko was supposed to be playing with him, but was recovering in his quarters from a mental attack some energy alien had recently subjected him to. So instead of losing out, he opted to try the game alone.

As he started his wind up, a horrible sound thundered around him and for a moment he felt he could see the entire reverse-image of the universe, a swirling mass of inverted darkness and light then it pulled him in it's maw and he was spat into the gray zone, bat'leth in hand.

It cleaved the Klingon before him nearly in two. He looked oddly familiar, then Worf realized it was Duras, the man who had killed K'eylar, mother of his son. Klingons did not stop to question battle, Worf merely wrenched the weapon, heard the wet grating sound of gristle and bone separating, saw the life dim in Duras' eyes and smiled tightly.

Then he pulled the weapon from the dead man and blood flowed free. He watched it, stunned, as it seemed to penetrate the 'floor' of the gray zone. Yet when he bent to wet his fingers they passed through it, through the oddly permeable surface of the gray zone. Was he in the Black Fleet? If the station had been destroyed by their enemies, by the Jem'Hadar or by Cardassians or by other Klingons, then it was an honorable death, earning him a place there. He felt incredibly honored, incredibly proud. I am a warrior...

Yet this place was annoyingly gray. The sameness of it disturbed him. The dead body before him seemed to sift through the gray air and he backed away. Quicksand...his mind whispered, recalling this substance he had never seen, but understood instinctively that it might not be safe to be too close. The body slowly faded into the gray air.

He frowned. He straightened. He swung his bat'leth as yet another Klingon charged him and there was no more time to wonder where he was or how he got there or why he fought or what the gray zone was.

Elsewhere and otherwhen...

Jake Sisko was resting in his room, a little annoyed at missing out on the baseball game he had wanted to play with Worf, but still feeling a touch out of sorts from Onaya's ill-intentioned influence when the ship had emerged from the wormhole and exploded. With a sickening, lunging, rushing sensation, as if a hideously living, howling cyclone had slurped him into it's maw to deposit him elsewhere, he found himself watching...and listening instead.

As Odo and Jadzia argued, their voices unclear...

What is going on? He wanted to ask, to demand, but they would not or could not see him or hear him and when they turned around he noted they were not the people he knew, but the people he would know and his mind turned from this to see...

His father wrapped in the arms of his mother, their passion an almost living thing surrounding them...

...mother...a bewildered Jake rejoiced and bowed his head and...

...Major Kira touched her forehead to his and held him close because his father had died...

Dad? But...and the flame of shameful heat as he remembered how he had told her once that he was in love with her...and his gratitude at her kindness about his boyish crush and her current gentle manner, but dad couldn't be dead, he just couldn't because he'd just been talking with...

...Chief O'Brien who now was smiling and explaining things to him. He always had taken the time, even when he was busy. It had been the chief who explained how to tell his father he could never join Starfleet...

...and later clapping him on the back after he had saved his life But I had to, he had wanted to say, you have a wife and a little girl. But he said I had my whole life and he had lived and I have a wife...a wife? What is wrong with me? I don't remember, but I must be sick...Onaya! It's Onaya...did she come back? Is she draining the rest of what I have? I didn't see her but...I need to call doctor--

Bashir showing him how to perform, no, not a medical procedure, but how to pull a coin out of Morn's ear and his devilishly, boyish grin, seeming to not be old enough to be a doctor...

Maybe he could tell me if I'm dead...and the thought did not disturb or frighten as he found himself looking at the fiercesome warrior swinging a bat'leth right at him and Jake ducked and threw up his hands...

...and found himself dropping the hand he held. The woman beside him instantly stopped. "Jake?"

He ignored her worried question to assess himself. Had the damage Onaya caused returned? Her influence seemed surreal now, but the time she'd asserted it had been devastating. He checked his nose, but found it drip- free. So what had happened?

He blinked and looked into the face of the loveliest woman he'd yet to see. She was Bajoran. He could tell by her nose and earring. She was gracious. He could tell by the expectant look in her eyes. She was caring. He could tell by her tone of voice. She was also married, he noted, seeing the intricately engraved golden band on the finger of her left hand - Human-style. Why was he walking with her? What was that awful sensation he'd experienced? Had he somehow walked to the holosuite in a mental daze?

"Computer?" Obediently a whistle sounded. The woman simply watched him. "End program."

"Specify."

"End program Sisko Beta Two."

"That program is not running."

"End any program running."

"Sisko Lambda Alpha Mu-twelve discontinued. Do you wish to save current settings?"

"Yes."

"Working. Program terminated."

He smiled apologetically at this pretty holo-generated woman, then frowned as she did not disappear.

"Computer, why wasn't program terminated as requested?"

"Accessing. Program was terminated as requested."

"Please check your error-circuitry."

"Working. There is no error."

The woman sighed and suddenly spoke up. "Computer, stand-by."

"Standing by."

Jake turned to her and she frowned at him. "Okay, Jake, that's enough. Just forget about your story, forget about the computer, just try to relax. That's why we came out here, remember?"

"Actually..."

"Let it go, Jake. Just for a while. You were going stir-crazy. You'll figure out the sub-plot and you know you can't force it. Just let it go for right now. Stop worrying about it."

He frowned. "Story? What story?"

She smiled at this, obviously taking it for acquiescence. "That's more like it. Now come on, sweetheart, walk with me. I missed our morning walk."

He looked around and suddenly realized he was on Earth. He was in the woods near his ancestral home in the bayous of Louisiana. He put out a hand to steady himself against a tree trunk.

As the rough trunk caressed his fingertips, he also realized he was no longer eighteen. His hands were those of an older man, one who used his hands a lot. He was also married. An intricately engraved wedding band gleamed on his left hand. It matched that of the woman before him and he looked up at her in stunned comprehension.

Quark was walking to the station security office when the ship exploded. Actually he felt a little like exploding himself; he was blistering mad.

He had returned from his lunch break to find his dabo table had been locked down by order of the chief of station security. This personage was actually waiting for him, he saw, waiting as if a potentate waiting in state for a visit from a peasant...him. The tall, whip-thin, beige form of Odo was leaning a hand against the open security office door, a smug and expectant expression on his face. This made the Ferengi even madder and he strode forward with greater determination to have it out. Then the ship exploded outside the station.

Quark's feet seemed glued to the ground, incredibly heavy. He nearly fell, staggered by the immense pull of inertia as a sickening feeling overtook him and a horrifying noise surrounded him like a living storm had sucked him into it's maw. He threw out a hand in supplication to the Grand Auctioneer of the Great Ferengi Accounting House because he fully expected to find himself there.

He knew for a certainty that something catastrophic had happened. He had either suffered a fatal tympanic aneurysm or the station had suffered a massive explosion. He threw out his other hand to add to his groveling appeal, but this hand held a cudgel of hardwood and it hit the Ferengi man before him in the shins.

Before he could apologize in horror and confusion--surely he would now be sentenced to a life of miserable poverty in his next incarnation, he just knew it!--the man spoke, a bored and tired look on his face.

"Hit me all you like, Uncle Quark, but I still can't tell you what we found on the New Deneb colony, profit or no profit, office of the Grand Nagus or no office of the Grand Nagus."

Quark put the cudgel down and realized that it felt familiar to his hand. But his hand did not look familiar. What he could see of his fingers were warped, slightly twisted, evidence of the same joint-disease that his father had suffered and his father before him. The men in their family were prone to it and it was not medically curable, although treatment could alleviate the pain, itching and stiffness that came with it. His own father had spent a great deal of money on those treatments, he recalled now, frowning.

His hand was also covered with jewelry, glittering rings on every gnarled finger, a fortune of gems imbedded in each ring, a garish display of ostentatious wealth. The sight made him start to calculate, then drool. And the bracelets! Each of pure latinum, pure gold, pure toranium...how did he come to be wearing them?

The cudgel suddenly made him blink. It was the staff of the Grand Nagus. Why did he hold it? And what had that insolent Ferengi called him?

He looked up at the man and noted the Captain's insignia on the commbadge which rested on a very crisp Starfleet uniform. He looked up further, into the man's face and blinked again as he recognized it, despite the wrongness of the years it held. This was Rom, his nephew. An older Rom with the bearing of a life-long Starfleet officer.

Quark's tone was questioning, bewildered at events. "Rom? What happened to you boy?"

Rom simply rolled his eyes. "Forget it, Uncle Quark, I'm not going to fall for that sad look and senile routine of yours. It won't work. Fine! You haven't wanted to tell me where you've been all these years I was looking for you-- my father's last wish was to see you, but obviously you don't care about all that! Keep your secrets! But I can't tell you what happened at New Deneb and that's that! And until I get the Kentucky to Starbase 87, you'll just have to put up with these 'wretched' accommodations as you put it. It's a standard V.I.P. suite. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to see to my ship and my crew."

Odo had been waiting for Quark, fully expecting a run-in with him over his actions regarding the dabo table that Grek supposedly had "resurfaced". Every time Quark "resurfaced" a gaming table, the constable grew wary, aware of the Ferengi penchant for attempting some form of public deception, except this time someone had saved him the trouble of checking surreptitiously; Morn was still lumbering angrily away toward the turbo- lift, having informed him of the Ferengi's new attempt at cheating his customers.

Not that it will stop him from frequenting the place and downing more than his share of Quark's stock, Odo snorted as he watched Quark angrily exit his bar and head toward him. He already had little doubt the "resurfacing" of the table had been accomplished to slant the odds in favor of the house, Morn had merely confirmed his suspicions. As head of station security, it was his job to investigate, but this saved him a great deal of time. He had simply shut down the gaming in the bar until such time as he could have the table thoroughly checked.

As Quark stepped onto the Promenade and turned toward him, he placed his hand against the frame of the open doorway to the security office. The cool metal seemed to steel his resolve to be as completely unaccommodating to the Ferengi as possible. He might not be an enemy, he might not be totally irredeemable, but he was still a Ferengi in Odo's eyes. Those selfsame eyes watched the bartender striding toward him. Then the ship outside the station exploded.

As the constable watched in horrified fascination, Quark seemed to age before his eyes. Between one step and the next he grew incredibly old, wizened and a staff appeared in one gnarled hand, holding his hunched figure up before it disappeared and a sickening sense of vertigo besieged him.

A horrible sound seemed to swirl around him and through him and he squinted against the wind he was fully expecting to assault him in this sudden, unexpected storm. Odo struggled to think logically--perhaps an atmospheric breach had occurred? Then he abruptly found himself in the throes of uncontrollable, undeniable sexual pleasure.

He could feel his partner's fingers urging him from his slow and careful movement into a deeper, much faster action. His face was buried in a woman's neck and an odd plethora of sensations were assaulting him. The air seemed thick, heavy with an unaccustomed alien essence and to his surprise, he could feel a rapid thrumming sensation in his ears.

Liquid filled his nose, further surprising him and his eyes began to water. He had no time to ponder these strange happenings because his partner suddenly slid a hand down between them and gently held him, cupping the heavy warmth suspended below the part of him inside her.

Odo dimly understood now what the term 'delirium' meant as he was abruptly transported to a new level of insensibility. He felt his entire body would go liquid for a moment and he fought this with horror, but the friction was beating him. An indescribable feeling swept through him, centered at the point where he and his as-yet unseen lover were connected and spreading outward and upward along his spine. The sensation was nothing so simple as an external regression, but internalized, an inexorable increase of intense pleasure that made him feel as if the part of him inside her would surely burst. Then it did.

He stilled, stiffened, helpless to stop his strangled groan as a series of incredible sensations swept through him, making him shudder and fight to breath, (when had he ever needed to breathe?) but he did not lose cohesion. Instead he found himself collapsing atop his partner in a rather undignified manner, unable to support his weight any longer.

She moaned, sighed deeply, contentedly, and gathered him closer and he lay against her wondering what the odd whistling sound he could hear was. Odo allowed himself to simply rest now, utterly dazed. He tried to analyze what had just occurred. While he knew full well he had undeniably completed a sexual act with a woman, he remained shattered by the suddenness of the bewildering events. What had happened?

He blinked and focused past the warm female shoulder his nose was dripping on...obviously part of him had lost cohesion. He frowned, too exhausted to right this embarrassing problem, but she did not seem to notice or mind. He saw now he was not on the Promenade, but in a private bedroom and blinked again. Was this a Ferengi trick? He recoiled at the thought that Quark was capable of doing such a heinous thing, but then his partner silently stroked his hair, his back, soothing him, comforting. Was it Lwaxana? He submitted to this attentive touch; after all, what they had just shared was far more intimate than what she was now doing. But was it Lwaxana?

His wife was a Betazoid, a strong telepath. It was possible she was visiting him with some form of mental imagery--a gift of sorts, although he would speak with her privately about the appropriate time to give such a gift. Despite the fact that they were married, there was a time and place for such activity; his normally well-reasoned thoughts were scattered and confused now, but still rapid-fire. Was Lwaxana capable of visiting such a private vision on him? He did not think so, although he did not discount it.

They had come to what he thought was a clear and working understanding of one another; she loved him and he had come to care for her, perhaps not with the ardent intensity of a humanoid, but enough to ask her to marry him. He had reasoned this was the most efficacious way to annul her unhappy marriage and enable her to keep her child (their child, his mind teased now) and she had agreed, deeply touched at his genuine concern. If he was to be honest, and Odo was unfailingly so, he had found himself deeply missing her presence after she left for her homeworld of Betazed, regretting his reticence. Her stay on the station had been brief, too brief, he reflected now. Perhaps she had sensed his regret at her absence and returned?

A flare of baffled hope and warm reproof in equal measure built within him and he tried to clear his head, but his surroundings remained. He hoped he wasn't still standing at the door to the security office on the Promenade with a blank look on his face, in the throes of this odd mental image. But why would Lwaxana send him this vision on the Promenade?

The whistling sound finally wound down and he suddenly realized with horror that the sound was his own breathing! On the shock of this discovery, his partner urged him to bring his head up from her very warm and female shoulder, gently wiped his nose off and smiled at him with loving regard. Her face was deeply familiar and he blinked with shock. It was Kira...but it wasn't Kira.

This new shock made him utterly forget about the fact that he was breathing, that his nose had actually been dripping due to physiological humanoid reasons, not merely because his face had lost cohesion. As she gentle wiped the sweat from his face, Odo noted now that this woman's hair was long, a dusty brown shade with flecks of golden red, and her features weren't quite like Kira's, although her eyes were identical. Would Lwaxana give him a vision of this? He blinked again, finding his voice.

"Kira?"

"I thought we agreed you wouldn't call me that," she pouted. Her voice, he noted, was not Kira's, containing a deeper, more sultry timbre. "That's her, not me...remember? And I especially don't want to hear it in here."

"Kira...?"

She frowned at this and her expression grew irritated and incongruently, made her look even more like the Kira he knew. "All right, that's it! You can sleep by yourself tonight."

"Wait..." he considered his words, realized it sounded as if he was trying to placate her and dropped his hand. She waited and he finally shrugged and essayed, "I...guess I forgot." His tone was uncertain and she shook her head.

"I'll bet."

"Med Base Two to Doctor Kira."

He blinked at this sudden, baffling interruption, gasped as she unceremoniously slipped free of him, making him realize anew that somehow, someway, he was in a humanoid body. She did not notice his baffled look as she reached for a computer touch plate by the bed and tapped it.

"Go ahead."

"Doctor, we need your help at the Academy medical facilities. There's been a shuttle accident."

Odo frowned at this--Academy? Was he on Bajor? Earth? How did he get there? This Kira was a doctor? Why was he there? Was his miraculous conversion being studied?

"On my way."

"We'll beam you right over."

"Belay that, I just...stepped out of a bath. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Acknowledged."

She turned to him, even as she sat up and began slipping into a rumpled uniform on the floor. It was, he noted, rimmed with blue piping, the preferred color of Starfleet sciences staff; she was in Starfleet.

"We'll discuss your poor memory later."

He blinked at her decisive tone, as well as her nudity. While he was not well-versed in humanoid bedroom behavior, her nonchalance told him many things; the analytical part of his mind continued to operate despite the strangeness of the circumstances and surroundings he found himself in. This woman, who claimed to be one of Kira's relatives, was so unconcerned as to indicate she had been nude in his presence many times. It also indicated a sexual relationship between them of an ongoing nature.

Lastly, if this was reality and not some Betazoid-induced vision or other hallucination, it also meant that he had just committed adultery...a punishable crime on both Betazed and Bajor. Worse, it invalidated his claim of being Lwaxana's husband, as well as her claim for keeping her son and could throw all manner of legal difficulties into their recent marriage. He hoped against hope that this odd vision would end. Kira stood, smiled at him, then leaned down to kiss him. He pulled back, upset at himself and this situation. She frowned.

"Like that, huh? Well, when I'm done we'll talk all you like...grandsire." This last was obviously meant as a jibe, but it merely made him blink and think some more, not really noticing as she stepped out of the room.

The main thing that should have occurred to him immediately, suddenly did; this Kira seemed to be in her thirties and resembled Kira. The most obvious answer was that this was Kira's daughter...in some future reality. This meant (if this really was reality, his mind insisted) that at least thirty years had passed since the time he had been standing at the door to the security office. If thirty years had passed, then the son Lwaxana was to bear...their son...was also at least thirty and well able to father children which would, indeed, make him a grandsire. He blinked.

A grandsire? He felt entirely inadequate to the task. Only recently had he allowed himself to think of becoming a father, even if it was in name only, to Lwaxana's child...their child. Now a grandsire? He blinked again and began to feel nearly as woozy as he had when he'd first found himself in this strange vision/reality.

"Incoming message for Odo of Bajor."

He frowned. "Who is the message from?"

"Dax of Trill."

"Dax?"

"Correct."

"Stand-by please."

"Standing by."

He sat up, realized anew he was wearing nothing and noting now that his body was definitely not Bajoran. He knew; he had practiced forming one until he could form himself complete with clothing countless years ago. There were minor anatomical differences in this body, but it responded well enough, very like the one he was more familiar with. Except this one had a small patch of soft golden-brown hair, lightly shot with silver, upon which nestled an obviously functional male appendage below which accompanying reproductive organs rested within a warm and heavy sac.

Looking further up he discovered a navel indentation and on his chest a pair of small brown nubs were tightly crinkled. He frowned, unconsciously ran a hand through his hair, and remembered a call waited for him, perhaps one that would explain the strange events that had happened to him. Suddenly he recalled the time Doctor Bashir had nearly succumbed to a Lethean's telepathically-induced coma and wondered if he was not experiencing something similar. Would Quark have sent a Lethean assassin after him? He wouldn't put it past the Ferengi. Perhaps the call was the doctor and Jadzia's way of trying to reach him? He still did not wish to greet them naked, he decided now.

He searched for clothing, found a rumpled pair of trousers and a silken shirt that could only be for him and slipped them on, not without some difficulty. Then he went to the commpanel, finding the sensation of his bare toes on plush carpeting an intriguing one.

"Relay message to this terminal."

"Working."

The terminal lit up and he found himself looking into the face of a young woman who looked nothing like the Dax he knew. But she obviously knew him, judging by her smile.

"Constable?"

"Yes?"

"Still used to hearing that old title, huh? I can't seem to think of you as anything else, though. Comes from Jadzia...my previous host to you. My name is Larissa."

He recalled now that Trill took on the last name of their symbiont. Jadzia's daughter would have taken the last name of Jadzia's family, not her symbiont. This young woman was the next host of the Dax line. Jadzia is dead, he lamented silently. His silence made the Trill woman's gaze soften.

"Listen, do you know why I'm calling you, Odo?"

"No."

"Well, there's someone here who might just have the answer to that." She pulled back to reveal a dark-skinned middle-aged Human man who beamed at him. Odo knew him instantly and his face actually lit up with relief and no small measure of pleased recognition.

"Jake!"

"In the flesh. You haven't changed a bit, Odo. Well, except for the moustache.."

"Moustache?" He touched his face, surprised to discover that he did have hair on his upper lip. Jake and Dax smiled at this.

"Looks good on you. Dashing."

"Jake, what is going on?"

"Still the constable, eh? Well, tell me, if you don't mind, what is the last thing you remember clearly of DS9?"

His answer was immediate and relief began flooding him; perhaps they did have answers that would explain all this. "My security office. I was waiting for Quark to show up and complain because I had shut down his dabo table."

"And just now you found yourself--doing what?"

Odo blinked. His thoughts raced as he tried to decide what to say, then opted for honesty, despite the shame it caused him. "I...I, uh, found myself making love to a woman."

Jake's eyes lifted, but Dax merely nodded. "I bet that came as a shock."

"Rather."

"Well, we're not asking to be nosy, but Jake here found himself suddenly fifty-one and walking with his wife...and the minute before that he had been an eighteen year old boy in his quarters on the station. So he did the logical thing--he tried to figure out just what was going on and to that end he asked his computer to tell him where the senior staff was. That inquiry led him to me and after listening to him, as well as doing a spot of research, I think we figured this out."

"Go on."

"Have you accessed historical records for the last stardate you remember?"

"No, I...haven't had the time."

"My, my, a lucky man...and some little lady is a lucky woman," Dax quipped, reminding Odo of the impishness Jadzia had displayed from time to time. She smiled to remove any resentment on his part. "Well, you don't have to bother. What you remember of DS9 was just over thirty-three years ago, constable."

"Thirty-three?"

"His hearings still good and he was having sex so I guess they're not the first things to go," Larissa said jokingly to Jake. Despite his age, Jake hung his head and smiled shyly, as if he was a teenager still, unused to the repartee of a seasoned adult, particularly that of the joined and confident Dax. This simple action jolted Odo, making him believe for the first time that he was really in the future. A future where he was a humanoid, though?

"Larissa, if you please...do you know--"

"Why you're on Earth? Kira Lindel's graduation from Starfleet Medical Academy is upcoming. You planned on attending, actually we all did."

"Kira Lindel?" He added another name and more questions to his mental inventory, then nodded. "Thank you for enlightening me, but I meant to ask if you knew--"

"You've been dating Lindel for a few months...since you met for the Colonel, I mean, the Major's death remembrance."

Odo could not help the gasp which escaped him. His voice was a whisper of sound. "Kira's... dead?"

"Yes, she's dead. Twenty-one years now."

He managed to gather his thoughts. "I see...and I appreciate this information, as well, but Dax...I need to know why...when...how I became a humanoid."

Jake's brows lifted and Larissa smiled sadly. "Are you sure you want to know, old friend?" Odo nodded. Her smile disappeared and she considered her words, finally opting for simple candor. "Your people changed you. It was punishment for siding with us humanoids against them."

"I see." His throat felt dry, a sensation he had never truly appreciated until now. He was uncertain how to take this startling information, stunned that such a thing was capable at all, much less that his people should have such incredible power, be so advanced...

"Are you all right, Odo?"

He met Larissa's eyes then and nodded. "I'm fine. This is all very...unexpected. But I--" he stopped as odd, irrelevant questions began filling his mind.

"Go on." What to say? He couldn't very well ask why he was still-- "You're wondering about yourself, aren't you?"

He nodded and Larissa smiled gently. "Odo, you might remember being several decades old previously, but Julian Bashir determined when you were made Human that you were physiologically young, your body was barely past adolescence. Your face never changed because the Founders wanted your face to stay that way-- you yourself said it was a punishment of sorts-- but you were given a healthy young body with all your mind intact, your experiences. So right now you're physically in your early fifties, mentally is a different story."

"I see." That would explain things...

"Probably the first time you actually match up mentally and physically, I imagine."

His blue gaze was mildly indignant before he noted the incongruous quirk of her lips, which did not match her expressive features quite well, but recalled dozens of instances to Odo. So very like Jadzia...

She seemed to know what he thought and smiled a bit regretfully. "There's more to come, I'm afraid," she sighed. "Let me explain everything as much as I remember. For me this is history passed on by Jadzia. Jadzia wasn't on the station when things happened. Do you remember where I was when you last were on the station?"

"You...or rather, Jadzia had gone to Trill, one of her sisters had given birth," he responded immediately.

"A timely vacation as it turns out. An unexpected Romulan ship emerged from the Bajoran wormhole and exploded before the event horizon sealed up. Near as Starfleet could figure from the records from the Bajoran fleet and a passing Cardassian frigate far enough away to not be damaged and still witness things, the ship was one of the ones in Enabran Tain's joint fleet of Romulan/Cardassian war ships, the Lia'Thul. The thing is, the artificial quantum singularity in its engine core reacted with the wormhole's gravitational pull in an unexpected way: it caused an explosive implosion in the space immediately surrounding for a space two lengths and widths of the event horizon. It engulfed DS9. The station disappeared from space for about seven weeks, then reappeared, not much the worse for wear, but some of the people in it didn't reappear--"

"Explosive implosion?"

To his surprise, Larissa smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, Jadzia was the scientist. I'm a psychologist and I flunked quantum physics. Anyway, the explosion caused a subspace temporal shock wave. It catapulted you and Jake here forward in time."

Odo considered this, then frowned. "What about the rest?"

"Maybe you should have a seat, constable."

"Tell me."

Jake took a breath, then shook his head. "My dad died five years ago, fighting the Cardassian/Romulan conflict caused by the dormant cascading Cardassian Pandrome virus that took most of the Bajorans that were from the Occupation era...including Major Kira. She died right before the conflict. The chief died with dad. Worf died on the station during a Romulan boarding siege and Doctor Bashir just passed away a few months ago."

"Not long after my joining ceremony," added Larissa with a regretful sigh. Odo thought of all this, then cleared his throat.

"And...Lwaxana? My wife?"

Jake and Larissa exchanged a look, and Dax stepped up as if she would reach through the viewscreen and place a comforting hand on his arm. "Ambassador-emeritus Lwaxana Troi died about ten years ago in her home on Betazed with her loving husband...you...and your two sons at her side. Jadzia went to the funeral and so did I. So did Jake, but he doesn't remember right now. It was a very moving ceremony."

His mouth fell open and his in-drawn breath was loud in the silence. Me...and our...

"Sons?" His voice was the faintest whisper. "So I remain in this marriage?" ...loving husband? He blinked and looked up. They simply waited for this news to sink in. Jake shrugged apologetically.

"I'm sorry, Odo, but we don't have time for--"

"Quark! What about Quark?" Odo demanded now, interrupting Jake's speech as he remembered what he last saw of the station. "And Garak?"

"I don't know what happened to either of them."

"I suppose it no longer matters."

Jake sighed. "We have to find him, Odo, and Garak, too. You see, they're some of the people who didn't reappear in real time when the station came back thirty-three years ago. As near as Dax can figure it, it's because they weren't physically there, but they should be here and now in this timeline, it's what she calls...what was it?"

"Not me, Jadzia, and she would have said we are experiencing an unaffected temporal string. That doesn't matter, what matters is finding them. We have to get them back, for that matter, we have to get back to the wormhole in a few weeks time, too, or we might not reappear again either."

"The last, I take it, Hurrik?"

"It will continue to be passed on. Only one of every four Bajoran infants survives. The encapsulated polyreplicating dormant viral sequence ensured no scientist found any form of vaccine for several months...just long enough to ensure our ascendancy in this sector. "

"Best laid plans and all," Garak murmured thoughtfully, his deep-set eyes troubled. It seemed, sometimes, that he was doomed to remember every success and forget every failure...and such an attitude led to cocky self- assurance that could well bring any man down. He turned to look at the tailor's mannequin in his office and studied it. He'd brought it with him when he established his office on Cardassia Prime some ten years back. It reminded him of his greatest success of all...and his most heartfelt failure.

And all thought me a simple tailor...never conceding once how a man could be ever so much more...how plans are best in the long-term and not in increments of time measured as months or years. What I began so long ago has ripened on the vine...so why is it I find I do not care for that taste of it's fruit?

He shook these thoughts from his head, tried to shake off the odd bout of melancholy, which seemed lately to assail him without seeming purpose, but failed. He sighed.

"Hurrik, the report on the New Deneb colony...condense it to statistical data...leave it on my desk."

'Your command is my will, m'lord."

The old-fashioned Cardassian reply made Garak sigh in appreciation, but it was short-lived. Who cared anymore about the old-fashioned ways? The empire had been shaved to it's parings and only some seeds--the promise of it's future in the eyes of the young who looked to those like him for guidance--and the core remained. And is that all I am? Something to be discarded? Or am I the gardener who prepares the soil for the seeds? What is it they want me to be?

He leveled a blue-eyed, still-sharp gaze on the extremely young and extremely attractive adjutant and felt a disappointingly brief surge of warmth in his loins. Pity. Such a waste. My appetites remained to this stage...only to rot on the vine while my machinations ripened into what is at-best sour-sweet fruit. Best had I bitten deeply when I had teeth and the fruit held better quality...

Gentle, gray Cardassian eyes assessed this particular head of his Empire, felt a surge of joy, of love, leap in his heart; so he had not escaped notice by his silver-haired master. He set the data padd before Garak, lightly tapped a function control sequence and leaned close enogh to whisper warmly, "I anticipated your need, m'lord. It is ready to be...read."

"Your wife, Hurrik...is she well?" The data padd remained ignored.

"Quite hale, m'lord. So too our sons. You are gracious to inquire."

"My own died, you know."

"No, sir, my sympathies."

"They arrive forty years too late, Hurrik, but better late than never I always say."

"As m'lord wills."

"She used to make wine...she knew when the fruit was just right, squeezed and strained and distilled it with her own strong, graceful hands." Garak found his eyes filling with unaccustomed tears. "I used to tell her...used to watch her so that I could learn her secret. She always said it was in knowing when the fruit was ripe and sweet...and when it was better left on the vine."

"A goodly woman, m'lord, my grief rests with her."

Garak blinked. "So too does mine, Hurrik."

"Your will is mine own, m'lord."

This outdated response was two-fold. Gray eyes watched blue ones, judging, waiting...sincere enough to have driven his silver-haired leader to his knees if he'd been younger. The mesmerizing smile did not reach his blue eyes in the manner of old. His voice was mild though, and reminiscent of the man he had once been for far too long.

"It too arrives late, Hurrik. But it remains appreciated."

****************

IN THE GREY ZONE...

"It seems I just got here myself, son. But I didn't did I?"

"No, Dad." Sisko's voice was tight as he strained to keep his joy contained...and his sorrow. When will iI see Jake again?

"It takes a bit of getting used to, but it's not bad, Benjamin."

"No." He looked around again, noted with some amusement that his sister and mother were talking to Jennifer, the three women conferring as of old. His heart seemed to fill with love, with joy.

"How's Jake?"

"Eh?"

"Your boy. My grandson. How is he now?"

"He's great. He...well, he got involved with a bad woman recently, but fortunately I broke it up." He frowned at the thought that Jake was now alone and without his guidance in matters of the heart...or any other matters.

"All grown up, my grandson."

Sisko nodded, frowned. "Dad, when did you...how..."

"You know I stopped asking questions not long after I got here. When I saw your sister and my brother--"

"Uncle Levi is here?"

"He'll be around. He goes off with that wife of his...I always said even in death he'd be making hay with her. Little did I know I was right!"

The two men laughed at this and Benjamin relaxed and forgot all about asking where he was or what the gray zone was or anything else except the joy he found in being among those he loved...

Kira barely remembered her mother's face but now she wondered how she could ever have forgotten. She looks just like me...

"Nerys...my flower." Her mother's arms stretched open wide and Kira clung to her, abruptly overjoyed and unable to articulate all her feelings. She pulled back to look at her. A brief image had flashed in her mind, a child's memory of a thin face, haggard features, but warm and loving eyes. Those eyes had been sad, but this woman was not sad. Nor was she thin. Here in the gray zone she was healthy and vibrant and her smile was the same one Kira Nerys had planted in her heart, stamped in her mind and carried as her most precious and cherished keepsake.

"It seems we just got here, but to look at you, girl, I can see we did not."

She turned, saw the tightly curled hair she remembered so well. "Father!" He accepted her embrace as readily as her mother. "Oh, father...I needed you so many times..."

He held her tighter, then pulled back. Dark brown eyes, so like her own, gazed on his daughter with great joy and a touch of stern reproach. "Someone else needed you, Nerys, as well...but you couldn't be there."

She felt suddenly inadequate to meeting anyone else besides those she loved most, those she held in her heart, even if she was dead and about to meet the Prophets. But wait...maybe these are the Prophets...

"Do I look like a Prophet, child?" her father chided and she wasn't surprised that he knew or sensed her thoughts.

"No, father. But I've...well, the wormhole..."she sighed, suddenly inarticulate in the face of knowledge that neither of her parents knew of the wormhole, of the Celestial Temple, or of the timeless entities that lived within it. "I--"

"So you've met them before."

She looked at him then and he nodded. "Here there is no need for explanations. Except for one."

"One?"

"The one who waits to meet you."

"Yarrin? Delv?" Kira remembered two of her older brothers who had died during the Occupation now, but her father kindly shook his head. "I've missed them all...missed you." Her eyes filled with tears and she wondered at the normalcy of all her feelings and responses. It seemed as if nothing had really changed and yet...she was dead. And were these Prophets? She studied her father's well-remembered face and hugged him once more, felt the wonderful reassuring sturdiness of his response.

"The Prophets work in mysterious ways, Nerys."

"Yes, father." She sighed, pulled back. "I'm just glad to see you again-- it's been so long."

"And yet it seems like a moment ago."

This familiar voice made her turn and she felt as if she was disappearing into the grayness around her. Her voice caught in her throat and she puzzled at how this could be if she was truly dead.

"Bareil..."

He'd been walking for what felt like an eternity-- and maybe it was, his mind teased in an unwelcome fashion-- when he noted another person, a man, curled up in a ball on the floor, perhaps sleeping, perhaps something else. It did not matter. He was not alone. Intense relief flooded Miles O'Brien.

He noted now, as he knelt by the person, that the 'floor' of this place was not an actual surface. It was more like firm gray air. It had substance, he could feel it, but it had no actual mass. He could not see it, although it was there. It was like some sort of force field.

O'Brien began trying to figure out the physics of this place while he bent over the form on the floor. He carefully touched the man's arm who clenched in tighter at the sensation, curling into an almost fetal position.

He nudged the man carefully, waited. After a moment he heard an oddly familiar voice murmur sleepily, "...what?"

Then the man uncurled, looked up at him and he found himself looking down at himself in the gray zone.

Worf did not think or analyze or make discoveries or ask questions or consider in any detail whatsoever about where he had found himself. He only knew there were clashing blades, fallen foes, his young untiring body, strong and victorious, and a battle worth the singing of a thousand songs...a million...

Worf fought on...and on...never tiring...vanquishing his enemies both old and new. It was glorious!

Bashir had completed the ceremony. The implantation was perfect. The young blonde woman seemingly disappeared, leaving him grieving...leaving him joyous.

Dax would live. Therefore Jadzia would, too. But really it was just her mind which would continue to live on in the new host-- the woman Jadzia was would die soon...and nothing he could do would stop that death.

"It's best this way, Julian," she had whispered, touching his face over and over as the tears had streamed down, unchecked and helpless. She had continued to do so until she no longer had the strength to hold her hand up and then her hand had slipped to his and he had held it, bringing it to his lips to kiss it tenderly from time to time, sitting with her, keeping watch. It was all he could do.

And she died there. And he had mourned. Time seemed endless in the gray zone and he felt his grief was a merciless thing without bottom. There was no beginning, no end only pain. He had loved her his whole life and now her life was over and he still went on. No one had ever filled the void he felt. He had sought to fill it many times, found only fleeting pleasure...unsatisfying in the end. And after her death, he was too old...he knew he would never find anything but companionship at best, and while pleasing, it was not nearly enough...who will I tell my news to? Who will I talk to? Who will listen?

'You were the only one that cared...in my whole life...and I never even told you how much I loved you...how much I...valued what we had..."

"Is that how I taught you, Julian?"

He lifted his head now from where he'd had it, pressed against Jadzia's unmoving body and was surprised to find her body was gone. He looked up to the owner of the voice to find Jadzia standing before him...but she was different; younger, healthy and whole, looking as beautiful as when they'd first met and his boyish heart had catapulted into orbit at the sight of her. She's the loveliest woman I've ever met...he smiled, remembering his own aged appearance, lifting a hand and feeling shocked to see it was unmarked, unlined.

Julian Bashir stared at his hands, felt his face. I'm young...he looked to the amused looking Jadzia and was hard-pressed to think of anything intelligent to say. She seemed to know this. "It's a different time...different space...different reality, I suppose."

"I was dead. I thought..."

"Maybe. Maybe not. As I said, it's...different here."

"But you aren't. You're lovely Jadzia." he meant it.

"And you are still gallant as ever."

"What is this...are we--?"

"Dead? Maybe. Maybe not. Does it matter?"

He choked back a laugh, suddenly remembering how the best years of his life had been by this very woman's side. Everything he did for a long time had been to impress her into his bed, then to impress her into his heart, until finally he did what he did because it was what he did best and had found that that had impressed her most of all.

"Maybe it doesn't. Oh, Jadzia..."

She stepped closer, took his hands in hers, making him stand. She nodded at him.

"Why are we here?"

"I don't think we are."

"I'm sorry?"

"Don't be sorry," she advised before slipping her arms around him and pressing her lips to his. "Just be glad."

THE HUNT FOR YESTERDAY...

"According to Starfleet, Captain Rom ordered records on New Deneb encoded and sealed. He's returning to Earth...apparently they were diverted. Originally the Kentucky was to report to Starbase 87, but new orders were sent. They'll be here in four days."

Jake and Larissa exchanged a look, excited. "Rom can take us back to Bajor sector."

"What of Garak?" Odo asked, feeling much more comfortable in the simple woven Bajoran outfit he had replicated. Thanks to his investigative skills, everyone had been accounted for...except the Cardassian. Perhaps it was some human tendency, but the ex-Changeling had the sneaking suspicion the tailor was involved in matters far more than his absence would indicate. Perhaps his absence does indicate...

"No word. No trace, constable," Jake sighed.

"Better not call me that. I'm not anymore, not here." Odo looked to the bathroom doorway, but Lindel was not in sight.

She had come back after several hours, rumpled and exhausted. During her absence Jake and Larissa had beamed over and joined their investigation to Odo's. She had not been surprised to see the pair, merely hugging Jake and asking about his wife and getting his assurances, before turning to her lover, patently ignoring Larissa to give Odo a light, but definitely passionate kiss and suddenly declaring her need to shower. She had not noticed Odo's dull red flush of embarrassment or the considering looks the other two had given her as she had stepped into the bedroom and shut the door behind her.

Dax had finally nodded, but Jake's brows remained knitted at this, suddenly perplexed. "You know, I just realized I know what everyone else has said and done, but you Odo. What are you doing here?"

"I wish I knew," the Changeling murmured unhappily. Dax smiled at this, then nudged Jake back to his work at the commpanel and turned to Odo.

"Maybe we should talk."

This was the last thing Odo wanted to do, but she urged him outside. A bright, cold and windy day met them; Kira's housing was in Oakland, not far to the Academy by public transit. Odo found his eyes watering in the stiff, icy breeze, a heretofore unexperienced phenomenon. He found himself shivering.

"She still thinks I'm interested in you. I'm sure you told her about me."

Odo looked up at this, astonished. "Me? You?"

"Yeah, you and me, who else is out here?" she said, then sighed and started walking along the path. "I told you it was just a matter of comforting gone too far after Kira's memorial, that she wouldn't let you go, but...well, it doesn't matter and might not help this situation, but if she does anything to hurt you, I swear I'll--"

"Larissa, I have no idea what you mean, or what might have happened between us or even why you feel this conversation is necessary, but I know I'd rather not complicate this situation any more than it need be. It's already very convoluted."

"Spoken like the constable."

He shrugged at this. "I suppose. My mind is still thirty-three years back, Dax, not in the here and now. For all intents and purposes, I am the constable."

"Then I want to know one thing, constable, for me-- why did you never once in all those years consider me, Jadzia that is, as a partner...a possible lover?"

He stilled, no longer feeling shocked or even astonished, just waiting desperately, fruitlessly, for the holosuite program to end. It didn't. He was standing, a Human man in his fifties in Oakland on Earth by a Trill who had just confessed her previous host had--

"Did Jadzia...love me?"

Larissa smiled at this concise query, so very like Odo, and gently reached up to touch his face. He let her. "She did. Once or twice anyway. It was always at the wrong time, though, and she would never have traded your friendship for anything transitory."

A soft sound escaped him. "And you..."

"I know how she felt obviously. We, you and I that is, discussed it when I asked if you would take part in my zhian'tara."

"Your zhian'tara?"

"It's in a couple of weeks. Or it was supposed to be. I didn't know all this would happen, so maybe I should reschedule. But I had really wanted to have you...and Jake, be a part of it."

Odo chose to ignore this and returned the topic to their original point. "What...what was it I told you?"

Larissa sighed. "That you'd have to ask Lindel."

Odo considered this, shook his head. However had he gotten involved with Lindel? It was baffling. She was far too young for him...their entire relationship thus far had been purely physical. Did he become so shallow after he was turned into a Human? Or was their relationship a portion of that foolishness that seemed to take place to some men at a certain age? He'd seen it many times, but was aghast now at the thought it might happen to him.

"So I was involved with her since...?"

"No, you mistake me. When you said you'd have to ask her, it was your way of telling me you had made your choice and that it was Lindel. That was about two weeks ago and you came straight here after that from Trill. I...well, time for confessions I guess. I came to a conference on Mars. That's why Jake found me right away. You had come for the recitation ceremony for Jadzia and...stayed for awhile. I was hoping you would come to your senses."

Odo's eyes closed, feeling them burn along with the flush of agitated color that rushed to his face...my Human face...he sighed, opened his eyes. Larissa merely waited.

"This must be very difficult for you. I'm sorry." his voice was small and tight.

"Not really. I can see things aren't going the way they should. Maybe it's good this happened. Get her out of your system."

"Larissa..." he looked down at her, noting it was odd to see how slight she was in comparison to her previous host. "Why...I mean...you can't be interested in me. I'm...well.. Larissa, are you sure this isn't just some of Jadzia's memories that were passed on affecting you?"

"First of all, I will tell you again, the first time for you, but let's not quibble, that Lindel was just memories affecting you. That you just...transferred what you felt for Kira into her daughter. I've seen the pictures, she looks very like her. It's not all that hard to fathom."

"But...I'm an old man--"

Her fingers slipped up to still his lips. They're so warm....this thought was not incongruous; Odo recalled how cool Jadzia's fingers had always been. She stepped closer still.

"Look at me."

He considered this request, studied her. "Yes?"

"How old do you think I am?"

He looked her up and down once more, suddenly uncertain. He had only met a few Trill in his life, at least the life he remembered to now and to his eyes, she could either be in her late-thirties or her forties. This made his eyes widen suddenly.

"But...when did you say you were joined?"

"About seven months ago."

"But..."

"I didn't expect to ever be chosen, Odo. I worked at the commission and had graduated the course, but joinings came and went around me and about eight years ago I gave up waiting. Then I was chosen for Dax on my forty- third birthday." When he said nothing, merely considered this, she sighed and her hand slipped to his chest. It felt warm there, too, and he suddenly noticed he was still shivering with the cold. "So...you feel fifty-or-so. It's not so old, then is it, old man?"

At the sound of this old nickname Odo remembered his captain of so long ago and smiled. He shook his head. "No. I guess it's not."

"Lindel on the other hand is twenty-four."

"Twenty-four?!"

"So which is more mismatched, constable? She's in her first year rotation of medical internship here with another three to go, five if she chooses surgery."

"I..."

"On the other hand, I graduated eighteen years ago from the university at Theris on the northern continent of Trill. I studied on Betazed for awhile where we all-- your wife and you and your sons and I-- first met, I might add, and I had found you a charming man then, but then after my joining...when Jadzia's memories were passed on...her own zhian'tara...my first impression of you slipped into place when you came to the recitation ceremony. Believe me, I wondered if it wasn't just Jadzia, but it's not, although I know she would be pleased. So I approached you...I thought, I hoped you might feel the same...and you as much as said there was but a single obstacle."

"Lindel."

"Actually, Kira herself. Her memories. You loved her deeply. After the ambassador's death your feelings remained. You regretted what happened with her...you...I think you blamed yourself, felt guilty for having left the system as if you could fight some virus! Not that you didn't love Lwaxana in your fashion, but even when we met...well, that doesn't matter right now, but I can't help question your feelings for Lindel. You shared something out of grief...and that is the most fragile type of relationship. While I don't question what you feel for her, I do question how lasting, how true it is."

"Dax..." He sighed. "I don't even remember how I feel for her...or for you."

"Please and I'm not begging, I'm asking--just consider what I've said-- think about committing to my zhian'tara, we'll have these seven weeks together at least, whatever happens. Please don't waste them."

"I don't know if this is wise--"

"There's no timeline to change, constable. None of what will happen has happened yet."

He considered this peculiar statement, saw the logic in it and nodded. She touched his face again and they both turned back...and found themselves being studied by Kira Lindel. Her brows were knit in a familiar way to Odo; Kira Nerys had worn it once or twice: disapproval.

"Hurrik, you will take the Reprisal and head for New Deneb, on cloak past our primary boundaries. There is far more than what they say happening out there."

"M'lord, your will is mine."

Garak noted the young man hurry from the room. He turned back to his review of the many encrypted reports his desk was laden with. Is this what I wanted? Buried in briefings...tending to the tedious...much in the manner of old, if I am to be honest. Is this what I wanted? His commlink blared to life, the full and rich resonant Cardassian a rare and pleasing sound to his ears. It was his under-secretary, a young and intelligent woman named Thiren.

"M'lord...a message has reached our tertiary communication relays. It's also backed to a subspace inquiry."

"About?"

"Yourself, m'lord."

"Who inquires?"

"M'lord a private citizen."

"Name?"

"No name given, it might be a joke."

"A joke?"

"First, it says some foolishness about the wormhole, Lord Garak. And in the place of their name they signed in Cardassian."

"What did they sign?"

"Nothing, sir."

"Odo?"

"Yes, sir."

Garak was astounded. "Transfer that inquiry to my commpanel."

"Right away, m'lord."

He read the message cautiously. His graying brows lifted in wonder. To his surprise, he felt excitement begin to course through him. He hadn't had that feeling in years; it was surprisingly welcome. Not only that, he wanted to keep it, hold it close to him so it would never slip away again and leave him old...and bereft. He slammed his fist on the commlink.

"Thiren!"

"M'Lord?"

"Recall Hurrik immediately. Tell him to prepare the ship for travel to sector Four instead."

"Right away, Lord Garak."

Perhaps it is not too late for things to be righted...

Lindel waited until Jake and Larissa had excused themselves, citing a need to 'stretch their legs a bit'. She wore a robe, hair wet, obviously having finished her shower. Odo waited with dread. She had merely walked back into her residence and the two had reluctantly followed her. Once inside Dax had stepped to Jake and suggested they leave the two alone.

To his surprise however, instead of venting her spleen, she merely tucked a wayward strand of his hair back behind an ear, nuzzled him. He was hard pressed not to pull away, if only because it would have seemed strange, but he knew he had to tell her--

"If you don't hurry, we'll be late to the restaurant."Her words were muffled against his chest. "And I have good news for you."

Odo swallowed, felt his stomach clench a little, both at the mention of food since he suddenly realized he might be hungry which would explain the odd feelings he had, and also because of what he had to say. "Kira, we need to talk."

She stiffened in his arms. "Kira is it?"

"It's your name, it always will be...and I will always remember what we've had, but--"

Lindel pulled back from him now, fire in her eyes...so like Kira's...I see why I embroiled myself in this...folly. I believe Larissa was correct. "It's her, isn't it? She followed you here and you feel an obligation."

"No. I have an obligation. I'm going to attend her zhian'tara. It's an obligation I can't set aside even if it makes you uncomfortable."

"I thought we settled this?" Her voice grew a touch petulant, then dismissive. "Besides, didn't you already deny her request?"

Suddenly Odo knew in his heart (and he now understood this human euphemism with stark clarity) the truth his future self had probably already decided...already learned, even as he sighed. "No. And it was unjust of you to make such a request. Dax is...one of my dearest comrades. Jadzia was a special person to me and her new host contains the essence of that person. We saved each others lives a long time ago. I won't ignore her request now."

"You admired her...you didn't love her...that's what you said."

"Whatever I said," he murmured, aware this was also true. "I said in order to placate your feelings...in order not to hurt you or make you..."

"You lied."

"No. It wasn't a lie. I do admire her. And I...was unaware of the depth of her feeling...I thought her attention was because of what happened before with her previous host...that her current interest was partly that and partly an attempt to...flatter an old man."

'But you're not old! And I don't care about what you did before."

'But don't you see? It's who I am."

Her face grew stubborn, reminding him yet again of Kira Nerys. "No, you're not. You haven't been that station constable for ages. Besides you could do more...better! That's what I was going to surprise you with, but I'll tell you now-- I talked to the Admiral...she agreed and if you see her tomorrow, you could start lecturing at the Academy next term. Just a trial, but I know you could--"

Odo turned away, upset. She frowned, turned him around. "What?"

"I...I can't...I just can't, Kira."

"It's her," she said knowingly, sadly. "No matter what you say, I know it's her."

"Then I won't say anything." His murmur was tired and regretful and no longer looking forward to trying eating as he had been. I wish I could...dissolve as of old. There was something so refreshing in formlessness.

Kira Lindel's eyes filled with tears as she noted his stubborn posture, completely unaware that her mother had once smiled knowingly when she had been presented with it. Lindel did not respond in this way, not having the benefit of years of knowing Odo...although she had known of him, and of course they had shared a tumultuous fortnight. What she did now would have scandalized her mother.

Odo stiffened in surprise as she took his face in hers and kissed him. It was deep, almost smothering, and she extended it, drove it home until he stopped trying to pull free, until his heart began to hammer...until she felt his body begin to respond. She pulled back then and watched as he fought to catch his breath.

"Good-bye, Odo."

IN THE GRAY ZONE...

After a time which seemed like no time at all, Benjamin found his thoughts straying from the relaxed conversation with his father and thinking of Jennifer.

In the manner of all things in the Gray Zone, thoughts led to actualities...or perhaps tricks of a distinctly different light as he smiled and patted his father's shoulder and headed for where he knew he suddenly badly needed to go. Jennifer waited for him at his family home, just where he knew he'd find her. She waited patiently, calmly...beautiful as ever...

He said nothing. Words became unnecessary. Their eyes remained locked for what felt like an eternity...and perhaps it was. Time didn't matter here. All that mattered was how they felt. All that existed of a sudden was each other...and a universe of unsated passion...stemming from what had existed between them and been so brutally truncated...how long ago? No time at all, she's just as I remember...

Benjamin found Jennifer in his arms. No one...no one...I never found her in anyone else. Then he stopped thinking and worshiped her with his body...his lips...

Kira was wrapped in Bareil's embrace.

Her astonishment on seeing him was fleeting...already forgotten. Seemingly without thought, independent of action she had found them making love...endlessly...time ceased to matter. It seemed as if they'd never been apart, as if...well, I'm dead now so I guess it makes sense, her mind stubbornly quipped. Then she'd stopped thinking, rediscovering anew what her body still remembered...the touch of her lover most spiritual.

It was as she remembered it, his skin, his scent, in this gray zone that Kira was no longer afraid of.

"There is nothing to fear, Nerys..."

She allowed herself to believe, to be carried along. Much as in life where she'd had little choice over her path, merely opting to traverse it as best she could, Kira Nerys now did in what she knew was her death. It was nothing at all like she imagined...and yet very like. Her loved ones (Prophets?) surrounded her. Answers came and questions raised and more answers. The sudden realization struck her that she was making love with a dead man...but I'm dead, too...

"It will come to make sense, Nerys."

She smiled at this pronouncement, so like him and began to kiss him avidly, pushing aside the questions, recalling now how cryptic he'd been in life. Why should it be any different now?

Kira assessed Bareil, wondered how she had gone so long without hearing his voice, seeing his face, feeling his touch. It was as if they'd never been apart, yet the knowledge of where they were and what they did remained. She opted for a single truth instead of many questions. "I've missed you."

He smiled ruefully. "I left you in capable hands, in the heart of a good man. But then you never could seem to listen to your pagh, you always followed your borhya."

"And I had a restless borhya at that."

"You still do, Nerys. It pushes you from truth and makes you seek what is already right in front of you."

"I'm with a good man--I mean, I was...oh, sweet Prophets...this is so confusing!"

"It needn't be. You're here now. That is all that matters."

"Bareil..."

"I meant what I said. We walk in the light of the Prophets and their ways are mysterious. I did not question them in life...why should I now?"

"I was never a cleric. Even if I was, I never could understand your interpretations of the Prophecies...remember?"

"I'm not speaking of prophecy, but of truth. Your abandoned son is such a truth, Nerys."

Kira sat up at this, feeling a bit uncomfortable. She never told anyone of her son, the only ones who knew were of the Shakaar and she felt only three people still living held the knowledge; she'd never even told Bareil, but now he knew. "I...I wanted to raise him, but I couldn't. Shakaar contacted Belig and they found him a good family...on Earth, but at least he was free. That's all I cared about, that he was safe and free."

"Perfectly understandable, Nerys."

"It's the truth."

"The love Odo feels for you is yet another such truth, but as I said, you follow not your pagh, but your borhya."

"Odo...?"

Kira sat...stunned, and looked to find her erstwhile lover smiling gently, merely waiting, incongruously dressed now. Her mind skated around the concept and instead found herself wondering about how Bareil had dressed. She looked down, noted that they both were dressed now. Her mind returned to his statement and nearly fled again...it was oddly frightening, as peculiar and inexplicable as this gray zone she was in. She had survived the Occupation because of her ability to focus beyond that which disturbed her. Did the thought that Odo might have loved her truly disturb her so? She considered this.

"Why are you telling me this now? I mean...there's nothing I can do. I'm dead."

"Are you?"

She snorted indelicately. "Bareil, you are dead, no offense...I saw it happen. If you're here and I'm here and I trust that I am, then...I'm dead, too.

Bareil gently took her hand in his. "The Prophets work in mysterious ways, Nerys."

"I hate temporal physics!"

This echoed unexpectedly throughout the gray zone both O'Brien's were in.

Miles turned to Miles. "I take it more of us will show up?"

"We died more than once didn't we?"

"Well, there was that replicant."

"And the me you saw die before you came and switched with me and I actually did."

"And the Harvesters...but that was faked, we didn't really."

"Came pretty damn close."

"I'm glad Keiko isn't here."

"I'm sure she's fine. Her and Molly. Dear God, I missed them more than anything after I got here."

"Been here that long?"

"You should know."

"Which one are you?"

"I hate temporal physics!!"

The two lovers were entwined in each other.

For Julian time itself had ceased to matter...and in the gray zone, perhaps it did not. He only knew this moment might never come again, or it might continue for eternity. In either case, he was glad to be with the one person who he had never stopped loving, never stopped needing in his life, the one who had been the core of the lives of the original denizens of DS9, even long after several had scattered to all corners of the Quadrant.

Jadzia managed to get all or most of them together every three or four years...right up until her death, and even that she offered to share with all who still survived. No one but he and Odo had chosen to come; it was a solemn and transcendent experience, a celebration of her life as the new host and she bonded, then chose. He had accepted her request, her last request, for him to perform the transference and now...his mind flashed back to the beginning, the very beginning of his passion for this woman.

Fitting somehow he would sate his passion now and not while they both lived. How did I die?... Fitting that he would find her just as he imagined at that time. If I died before...how could I know when she died? He struggled to make sense of things, feeling a touch of disgust that he would even be making such an attempt when he had everything he'd once wanted right before him. But for some reason he could not remember specifics of his life after...after...after what? What troubled him so? Was it her relationship with Worf?

Jadzia Dax had never ceased learning and acquiring knowledge...or partners. It was practically a Trill tradition, Julian thought now; by their very nature joined Trill were acquiring information and knowledge. She and Worf had shared a steamy relationship...or were they still sharing? Julian felt distinctly odd, even as Jadzia wordlessly urged him to greater heights of a purely physical pleasure he had difficulty reconciling. We're both dead...how can we...His mind shied from this. How do I know we're dead?

"Why are you fighting this?"

Echoes from the past slammed into Bashir as the words, spoken once by another Jadzia Dax, one he had created from his own imagination, were said against his ear. Could this be another imaginary thing? Had those energy creatures returned? He recalled now they said they would and...they did, you senile old thing...but...but he was not old. He pulled back to look into Jadzia's face. Her calm blue eyes studied him and he frowned. She's young. I'm young. Perhaps we can be what we like here. Wherever 'here' is.

"Julian, are you planning on wasting this time, as well?"

He blinked. It made sense, he nodded. In the smoldering ashes of what had been Bajor sector, there was precious little that survived, including relationships. Opposing postings, familial obligations, the drawing of new lines; it had torn stronger bonds apart than simple friendship...but they'd never had a simple friendship at all...and Bajor isn't ashes...what the devil is wrong with my mind?

Julian pushed this from his thoughts now as Dax stroked his face, gentled him back from his uncertain rigidity, carressed his face and recalled him to the present and away from some hideous future and some puzzling past. Into the now...into her loving, waiting gaze.

"I love you." His voice was calm and certain and she smiled at him.

"I love you."

...into her wonderfully warm and willing body until all uncertainty, all fear, all thought vanished, but what existed between them in the gray zone.

THE HUNT FOR YESTERDAY...

The Sisko estate was much as Odo remembered it from his one brief visit to New Orleans. He hadn't seen much of Earth that time, a brief aerial tour of San Francisco and a few evenings at the Sisko restaurant. The day before their departure, the captain had invited him on an outing through the still-infamous French Quarter and capped it up with a quick glimpse of his homestead. Now he had learned it quite well, discovering it with senses he'd never had before.

The smells were what affected him most; the lush scent of magnolia, of ivy, of honeysuckle. The rich smells of the food and the heavy smell of the rain which had rarely stopped falling since their arrival. In the last three days he had learned the value of good footwear and dry socks, of a good slicker and of pockets. He had discovered he enjoyed the different tastes and textures of creole and that cajun affected him rather adversely. He had made all these discoveries in the company of a cheerful and unhurried Larissa Dax who patiently answered his questions while their various search engines continued on Jake's impressive computer.

A typical writer, he saved, no he *hoarded* information in case it proved useful at some later date for some new story. Loading everything to a secondary system, he had purged his entire main system and begun tracking various people the three had sat late into the first night listing. His lovely wife, Tris, had cheerfully fussed over dinner and kept any curiousity over matters to herself; she was quite used to Jake's occasional writing sprees and took this all as something of a more extensive one. In any case, it saved them a great deal of explaining.

After a practically sleepless night of checking and rechecking with the computer, despite knowing it would inform them of anything within their search engines, the three finally realized they needed to simply wait, either for the computer to finish it's task. Three days later, Odo found himself walking with Larissa in the wet garden during one of the rare dryspells which had followed a downpour. He stopped to stare at a fragile and delicate-looking vine of honeysuckle and began wondering why the plant was called that. Larissa touched his arm lightly, a gesture he'd already gotten used to from her which indicated without words that she wondered what was on his mind.

He nodded at the vine. "I know you said that was honeysuckle, correct?"

"Yes."

He looked at her. "Why is it called that?"

To his surprise, she clasped a small yellow flower by the base and plucked it off the vine. He felt mildly appalled. "Larissa?"

"Here." She put the base of the flower against his lips, part of her thumb and finger against them, too, and ordered, "Suck the end."

He extended his tongue to the flower and his eyes widened. He did as instructed and was rewarded with a fresh, sweet taste unlike anything he'd experienced thus far. Before he could chew on the flower, Larissa moved it away. She looked at the poor blossom, then opted to place it in her hair by one temple. It looked good there, he conceded.

"How did anyone find that out, though?" He wondered aloud. "And what was the flower called before they did?"

Larissa smiled at his charmingly innocent question and took his hand in hers. "Come on, I'd like to see that old wishing tree Jake told us about." He allowed himself to be pulled along the path.

Jake Sisko sat in troubled reverie.

He had suffered the dreams again that night. Odo and Jadzia, arguing. The chief, his father and mother, the Major and that vedek she's once dated...it was a jumble of images which left him feeling tired rather than well-rested even though he slept for several hours. Was it all just the strain of what had happened and what they were trying to accomplish? Or was something else taking place? Had they overlooked something?

The dreams last night had been even stronger. His father shaking him, insisting that he complete his story. But for the first time, Jake had no story to tell. What was happening was far more intricate than any plot he could unfold.

"You need to finish it, Jako. You need to set it straight. I don't want to die for nothing...and I don't want to have lived for nothing either. Only you can do it. The constable can help you...and the old man."

He'd sat straight up in bed, Tris waking instantly, but he'd reassured her things were fine. She'd tried to gentle him into a lovemaking session, but he'd slipped free from her, too dazed and troubled to think of such matters, although a part of his mind told him this was an opportunity not to be missed while he was here. This thought troubled him most of all. Why was he here? Why hadn't he stayed on the station he still remembered as his home? Why had Dax returned to Trill and why was Odo a retired ambassador for the Federation? He could not imagine either of them away from DS9. What had happened to their lives to bring them all together at this critical junture, this unaltered temporal string? What was it he wasn't seeing that needed doing which only the three of them could do?

To Odo's bemusement, being with Larissa was not the assault on his senses he had initially felt it would be. Being with her was...relaxing. She never made him feel ridiculous, although sometimes he felt very awkward with his body and his seemingly hourly findings in regards to it. She never even made him feel nervous, at least after their first walk during which he'd trembled, both from the cold and his worry that she would, for some reason, attempt to begin a physical relationship. Why he had assumed this, he did not know, although he knew she did wish to start one with him. However, she had merely shown him the surroundings, pointing out items she knew and speaking of events she recalled from her past hosts. She'd spoken of her zhian'tara and the things she wanted to ask her different hosts, answered a few of his initially timid questions about some of his physical findings with a concise, understanding, and unembarrassed detail that reminded him of Jadzia. Near the end of this momentous outing, despite his chilled feet and slight headache, he had realized that he had never enjoyed a walk with anyone more.

"Thank you," he'd said in his simple way and to his utter lack of surprise, found she understood his intention.

She took his hand in hers, noted how cold it was, looked down at his feet and marched him directly to the house where she'd removed his wet shoes, replicated a pair of socks and a towel and dried his feet briskly before giving him the socks. All done without a word, Odo nonetheless got the message conveyed; humanoids and wet feet did not bode well for health reasons. He looked down now at the thick rubber boots he'd obtained since then, looked back up and realized they'd reached the tree.

It was a huge, magnificent willow, it's wet, droopy limbs evocative of melancholy to his eyes. He'd never seen a tree like it before. Larissa was delighted. "It's wonderful. So old. It must be a hundred." She drew in a deep appreciative breath. "I think I can even smell Tris' bouillabaise from here. I wonder how many meals this old tree has smelled."

Odo frowned. "Tree's don't smell things, do they?"

She smiled up at him. "Just a figure of speech, ambassador. I'm just thinking of all the changes it must have seen over time."

Odo did not hear this, having started at the title she'd off-handedly used. "So I was an ambassador?"

Larissa looked stricken. "Odo...I'm sorry. Habit I guess. When I as on Betazed, I got into the habit."

"You know so much about me," he murmured now, accepting that he had started the conversation and therefore should carry it to whatever conclusion it reached. "I don't know very much about you. But I think I must have...before all this."

"Yes. We were good friends. At least I like to think so. You would call me on occasion. Usually in regards to Ramis or more rarely, Kesper."

He frowned, then swallowed. "My sons, I take it?"

"Yes. Kesper Troi Je'yal. Ramis Odo Troi. Ramis, of course, looks more like you. And is twice as stubborn" She smiled to take the sting out of her words, but she noted now that he was trembling. "You're not cold, are you?" He shook his head. "Too much? I'm sorry. I'll keep quiet."

He turned to her. "No. Seven weeks is a long time. I suppose I'm lucky I haven't heard from them before this. I didn't even think to ask until you suddenly gave me their names. I didn't even check the computer records. Maybe I really was an ambassador because I'm not thinking like a constable." He sighed, ran a hand through his hair without even realizing it. His eyes widened. "Good lord, how do I know if I used to call them with any frequency? Won't they think it's strange not to hear from me? What will I say to their questions, if they ask me anything?" He paused in consternation and whispered fiercely, "I can't be the father they knew."

"Maybe not, but you can be who you are now--a decent and honorable man-- and they'll recognize it, because that's what you were before this, too."

"Larissa..." he drew in a breath, closed his eyes and admitted softly, "I'm afraid."

She merely nodded, then took his hand in hers. "I think we all are. It's like we have the most important job in the world to do and we don't know if we have the right tools."

"No, I'm not worried about that. I'm afraid of what happens afterward...to the Odo I will be...the one you'll be left with. I don't want him to discredit what I've done with his life."

"But it's your life, too. Or it will be."

"This is like a dream, but I don't wake." He blinked and murmured, "I'm growing used to that now. To all of this; sleeping, walking, eating, coughing..."

"It must be very strange."

"And will I remember? Did you?"

"I did and I didn't. I knew something would happen, but I didn't remember what. I don't know if you did or not or if anyone else did. You might have but kept silent so as not to disturb the timestream. We were so glad to have the station return that...well...a lot of questions weren't asked. The thing is...this is all past that timestream so what we do now won't matter, unless we don't return and bring those missing people with us."

He considered this. "You never explained why you were there at the time of the reversion."

She smiled. "Jadzia was a scientist remember? She warped back on the Oedipus and took command of the team studying the phenomenon. She was just about in ground zero when...the coalescence began."

"The station came back."

"All around me...her. We took a census, mourned the missing and chalked it up to another strange day by the wormhole." Larissa sighed.

"The wormhole. It might have had something to do with things." He suddenly frowned. "Or perhaps the Prophets... you said you were studying the event?"

"Yes?"

"Can you explain what happened to the wormhole itself after the event?"

"Of course-- the entrance collapsed, not a total collapse, but it settled into what we call an unstable microsis; too small for anything but a microprobe and too chancy to risk anything but a compressed tachyon signal. We couldn't even send a transporter beam. We tried with the Excalibur, but...they lost three crewmen in the attempt."

"The Excalibur...that's right, they're negotiating-- were negotiating-- with the Dosi."

"Fifteen Federation ships were trapped in the Gamma Quadrant. Their crews are still there. Last communication package we received was that three ships headed back and the others opted to establish roots on an old Yaderan colony...a place Dax visited with you once."

"Taya." Odo recalled the little girl, a hologram, who he had fashioned himself into a top for a few years-- a few decades ago--and blinked.

"Yes. I remember her, too." Larissa smiled. "The colony was far from Dominion space, if you recall. It was why the colony was established there. Anyway, it was decided to be a suitable place. That's all I know."

"We have to reverse the collapse, Larissa," he murmured tightly. "I don't know how I know this, but I do. If we don't...something even worse could happen than what's already taken place."

She frowned. "But if we do, that would change the timestream. It would change all of this...maybe everything."

"But if we don't then the Bajoran sector is in ruins...everything Captain Sisko worked for, it collapses."

"Odo, maybe that's meant to happen."

"Maybe...but not like this." His mouth firmed. "And maybe fifteen ships and their crews don't have to be stranded to an uncertain future."

"Add this to your calculations," she finally sighed. He looked at her. "We were on the brink of war with the Jem'Hadar. The collapse ended that threat and the threat of the Dominion. How many will die if we return that threat and it's likely consequences?"

Despite the horror in this thought, he turned on his heel and headed back to the house. "I need to talk to Jake."

"He won't remember anymore than you do, Odo." Larissa pointed out.

"Maybe not. But he is the son of the Emissary...and I suddenly think it's no coincidence that he should find himself here, with me and you close by at this moment in time and be the first to start piecing things together."

Jake was coming much to the same conclusion, but the thought troubled him, much as it had when his body had been eighteen as well as his mind. He was the son of the Emissary, a living religious icon. While it rarely came up except during some of his fathers missions or sometimes when they ate together in the Replimat and a Bajoran would step up and make a request, the concept troubled Jake greatly.

He had not joined Starfleet because it was too much like his father. He had found, though, that the culture of Bajor was far more to his personal comfort than even that on Earth, although he never forgot his roots and where he stemmed from. Jake liked Bajoran women (I even married one...) and he had been startled to discover that some had found him interesting not because of his boyish charm, but rather because he was the son of the Emissary. What did that really mean though? What role did the son of the Emissary play in the life of the Emissary? He had never done anything of value, never really helped his father or saved anyone's life but once-- and while the chief had been grateful not to be roasted in a jefferies tube, Jake had not considered that momentous, but rather a natural decision to make. He was no hero, no special person, just a kid who aspired to be a writer. It was his father who was special, who was...blessed in some indefinable way.

He sighed now, decided to try checking the computer once more, but before Jake could activate his computer console, it lit up in the image of the Starfleet logo. The soothing female voice spoke. "Incoming message from the U.S.S. Kentucky. Reply to civilian subspace commchannel Terra LNO-12."

"On-line."

The screen cleared up and to his delight, he found himself looking into the face of an old friend. "Nog!"

"That's captain to you!" his old friend said delightedly, then he sobered. "Jake, I'm heading back, but I'm afraid I need to ask a favor of you."

"Go on. I've got one to ask of you, too."

"Well, it's my uncle."

"Quark's with you?"

"Yes, funny isn't it? Out of our lives all these years and now all of a sudden I find him," the Ferengi captain sighed. "Something is definitely wrong. He's not talking about acquisitions or profit-margins or even trying to bribe my helmsman into changing the ships heading. He's very quiet, very confused, asking about the station and his old bar as if he was still back in that time and even asking how he got so old. I'm afraid it's some sign of illness, but our ship's doctor insists there's nothing wrong, that maybe it's a sign of incipient senility; I don't know, I haven't seen him in so many years...if you could ask around and see if there's a good Ferengi specialist I'd appreciate it. Maybe he's come down with something."

"I'll do that, Nog, but I think something else is going on." Just as he said this, the doorway opened and he turned to note Odo and Larissa entering the house. They set aside their boots and slickers by the doorway and he smiled, then gestured them over. "Glad you're back. There's someone who has questions about current events just like us."

Garak sat in the chair reserved for him, watched the various junior officers flitting to and fro at their stations and sighed. It was not like he'd once imagined while cutting and sewing and fitting, at that time dreading the sameness of each day and imagining this very spot he now occupied.

Bright young eyes and fresh young bodies jumped to do his bidding, to answer his questions, to see to his needs. He detested it. Worse, he did not know the reason for his dislike. It was what he had worked for. It was what he got. So why was it so tedious, so monotonous, so boring? It was almost as if he had worked his fingers til they bled in order to win a prize...and what he'd won was salt. Is this how I end up? Hailed as the conqueror of Bajor and despising myself?

Was that even possible? He'd never truly despised himself, although he had endured periods when he'd grown weary of tailoring, but then some fresh new adventure would take place or some new element of the unknown would happen and as if by magic, he would find himself directly involved, sometimes he would involve himself, but either way, it had been refreshing. Now he had rebuilt his homeworld from the ashes into a formidable army, withstood the Jem'Hadar that had remained on this side of the wormhole and even sent a message to the Founders by way of a simple repeating message: "They are dead. You are dead. Your people are doomed if you ever return." He knew it would mean something to a certain Founder he had once had the pleasure of meeting. It certainly had given him no small amount of pleasure to send his message.

Even more pleasant was the thought of the virus they'd developed against the Jem'Hadar. A virus that ate any non-genetic structure in the bloodstream, such as Ketrecel White. He didn't bother to tell the Founders of the jakmanite-suffusion beam he'd helped develop which would distort any silicate-based creature's cellular structure, such as protoplasmic silicoid shapeshifters. This was a suprise he had intended on waiting to use if the wormhole ever re-opened, or if the Trill scientists ever successfully completed their thus-far unsuccessful artificial wormhole experiments. But now...the closure of the original passage had seemingly answered the Federations prayers while dooming Bajor to obscurity and him to boredom.

Well, Bajor he could care less of, but this was not how Garak intended on living the rest of his life! He looked around the bridge once more and several junior officers moved a bit faster. A few looked at him questioningly, awaiting his command. But what else can I do?

Hurrik assessed his liege. "How may I serve you, m'lord?"

Garak smiled, a small, weary smile and sighed. "Have my sewing kit brought to me, Hurrik. I feel the need to...create something."

IN THE GRAY ZONE...

Benjamin held Jennifer in loves aftermath. Words had not been necessary. Now he thought of all the events, the things which had transpired since he'd last seen her and was angered. He had been ready to die with her, but the choice had been ripped from him. So many things had been taken or changed, the only constant which remained was Jake...and you ignored him for three years, didn't you?

"Being hard on yourself, Ben." He looked into her loving eyes and smiled. "It's true, but I have reason to. After you died..." His throat closed off the words and he suddenly held her tight to him, rocked with the intensity of the feelings which slammed into him mercilessly. "I loved you so much, Jennifer. You spoiled me for other women. I never found anyone who could measure up."

"Did a lot of measuring, did you?"

He pulled back and for once, his feelings sat easily on him. "No. There was one who turned out to not even be real and...another who turned out to be a traitor. But I wasn't serious about either of them. I was only attracted by the fact that something about them reminded me of you."

"Or maybe of you."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't think it was me you were looking for, Ben, in those women. What you hoped to find was you. The you that you were with me. The you that you lost when you lost me. Although you never really lost me, you know." She stroked his face and he burrowed into her touch, buried his face in her neck.

"Say what you will but I couldn't be with you so that was a hell in itself. My only glimpse of heaven has been Jake. He is the best gift you ever gave me, Jen."

"How is our poet?"

He pulled back. "You know he writes?"

She smiled. "Ben, he was writing since he was eight. Little poems, but he begged me not to tell you. Said it didn't sound 'Starfleet' enough, but they were good. They showed promise. I told him to keep it up. My favorite uncle was a writer. It may not be Starfleet, but they have their place in our world."

Sisko considered this, frowned now. "Well, he didn't choose Starfleet after all. And he is a writer now. But it's that same need to write that caused two..." he paused suddenly, then finished, "caused two of the more pivotal events in our lives."

'What is it, Ben?"

"He was writing during the wormhole's inversion but if I hadn't made him come with me...I would have died then. It wasn't him, it was me."

"But you didn't. Does it matter?"

"Maybe. He wrote in that future. A book I just realized he started after this Onaya woman affected him." Sisko frowned. "And that's the other thing. If he didn't have that talent, Onaya wouldn't have looked twice at him. As it was she activated that area of his brain and started draining him like some sort of mental vampire. If I hadn't returned..." He closed his eyes and admitted, "our son would have died. And so would I. I'm sorry, Jen. He's a man now and I have trouble sometimes knowing when to step back and when to interfere."

"Sounds like you did good, he's still alive."

"Yes, but now I can't do anything."

"Except be with me. You said it-- he's a man now. He needs to see to his life and you to yours."

"But..." He did not point out that they were dead; it seemed pointless, but her words left him with a distinctly odd feeling.

"Let's focus on what we have here, Ben. This is an important time...for both of us."

As of old, his wife held a wisdom Benjamin Sisko could not argue with.

"So what happened after you left me?"

"I went back. Life went on...so to speak. Sorry."

"Don't apologize. I'd have done the same for you."

"You are me."

"I'm a bit younger."

"Miles!"

"Miles, yerself. And ye are, ye know."

"We are."

"Aye." A beat. "So how is Molly?"

"Beautiful. Reading, starting to write, asking all sorts of questions on the computer. I think she'll be an engineer maybe."

"Or a botanist like Keiko?"

"Well, at least she got to go on...and the rest." He frowned. "At least I hope. Dear God, what if the rest died, too?"

"I'd think they'd be here. Where was Keiko?"

"With Molly on Earth. They went to visit Keiko's father."

"Good."

"But the rest of the crew, except for Dax, they were all on the station."

"Then they must be somewhere here, too."

"Why here?"

"Why not here?"

"Where is here?"

"I never could figure that out."

A pause.

"I hate temporal physics!"

As the strident sound of clanging blades became a symphony to him, a new presence installed itself at his back. Not like an enemy, but helping him protect this unprotected aspect. He could feel the occasional touch of shoulder, arm or hip and hear the grunts of battle behind him. For some reason, he did not worry over his helper's integrity; he knew his strength was now doubled with a new ally to help in his neverending battle of all battles. Worf howled a victory cry and was pleased...and shocked...to hear it redoubled from his thus-far unseen comrade-at-arms.

He whirled after dispatching yet another opponent to look upon the fiercesome warrior behind him. It couldn't be, but it was. She neatly slashed down a charging Klingon brute and then fixed a heart-stoppingly familiar and oh-so-wicked gaze on him. The most infuriating woman he had ever known...as well as one of the most beautiful. The mother of his son.

"K'ehylar..."

Kira Nerys sat alone with her troubled thoughts. As in the manner of things here, all had withdrawn from her until she found herself meditating on her life, on her death...on her friends and those she loved. Did she love Odo? She conceded that she did; she loved him deeply. But was it a romantic love? Or was it the love she held for her older brothers, her father? She always thought of him as a part of her, her right hand, she felt safer when he was there just as when she was younger she'd felt safer in the presence of her elder brothers. Was it possible that he loved her? Romantically? Did it matter since she was dead? Was he?

"I like this place, too. Helps me to think."

She looked over, unsurprised to find a new friend...and an old one. "Li."

"Nerys. You seem a bit different. Maybe it's the hair. A bit longer. Those shoes aren't regulation, though, or are they?"

Kira snorted as she considered the heels she had taken to wearing after fighting Klingons and Jem'Hadar one too many times. "They are when you want to stab through Klingon leather or kick invading Jem'Hadar troops where it actually hurts them."

"Still fighting your wars. But I sense you're troubled by something else."

She sighed, nodded. "An old friend. You remember the constable."

"Oh yes. He was very helpful when you stepped down to take the administrative post on Bajor. Although it couldn't have been easy for him. One minute I was a rescued prisoner of the Cardassians, the next I was his Navark, giving him orders."

"Odo doesn't care about rank and order, Li. You didn't get to know him all that well."

"Yes, well, I think I learned enough while I was on the station."

"He loves me. At least, I learned he might have."

"I think it's safe to say he did." Li sat back, hands supporting him as he stretched in this non-place and then smiled at the look she gave him. "What, you didn't know all this time?"

"And you did?"

"I had suspicions."

"Did he say anything?"

"I think the exact words that come to mind you already heard, Nerys."

"Li, don't play games with me. We're both dead." She smiled impishly.

"And still irreverent, I can see. No, I was coming to see you on the morning you were packing to leave. I didn't come in though. I figured I'd leave you to hash it out with him."

"What are you talking about?"

Li shrugged, sat up. "Before I could announce myself, I heard Odo shouting through the doorway. I think half the Habitat Ring might have heard him. He was telling you to fight for what you believed in. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I never heard him speaking like that to anyone else."

"No, he saves his outbursts for special friends." She smiled in remembrance.

"Really? Who else has he shouted at like that?" Li looked off as if thinking hard and Nerys looked back at him.

"Well, he...he--" she paused. Her head tilted, then she frowned. "Actually, I don't think I've ever heard him shout at anyone else except for lawbreakers."

"Did he feel you were breaking the law?"

"Of course not! He knew I had no choice, he was just being pig-headed." She sighed. "And he didn't want me to leave."

"Why?"

"Well, because he knew I was good at my job."

"Ah, so he really, really values Bajoran bureaucracy then."

"Li!'

"Sorry, Nerys," he said most unapologetically, then shrugged. "You must be very special to make such a mild-mannered constable shout like that. Either that or he was suffering caffeine withdrawal."

"Odo doesn't drink."

"Maybe his blood sugar was low."

"Odo doesn't eat."

"Maybe his shoes were too tight."

"Odo doesn't really wear anything, Li."

"Ah, so he walks around naked?"

"Li...!"

"So you see why I didn't come in. I figured you might want to have it out in privacy."

"Yes well..." Kira paused while she remembered how their conversation had been interrupted by someone, everyone else. "You should have come right on in, Li. Everyone else on the station did."

"And so you never resolved your little spat?"

"It wasn't a spat. It was just Odo's way of telling me he'd miss me."

"Because he couldn't just tell you?"

"Something like that."

"But why? Had you given him reason to think you'd be offended if he told you he cared?"

"Of course not!" Kira pulled her knees up and hugged them. "Odo knows me better than that. Besides, it's not possible."

"Why?"

"Well, for one thing he just got married before I wound up here."

"That only proves he's capable of caring for someone."

"Well, if he'd loved me, don't you think I'd have seen it by now?"

"Tell me, old friend-- how long have I been dead in your reckoning?"

She frowned. "Three years, Li. Why?"

"Because it wasn't anger I heard in that man's voice shouting loud enough to be heard through those damnable Cardassian doors on Terok Nor, Nerys; it was anguish. Anguish that you were leaving. Anguish that maybe he wouldn't see you again. That type of sentiment doesn't just slip away or fade. Did you never talk about things, about how you both felt?"

"No. After...well, not long after that he learned I'd lied to him about something I did when I was in the Shakaar. Our friendship was strained for a while."

"But you patched it up?"

"No, it just kind of went back to where it had been...I got involved with Bareil...then, well after he died, I sort of pulled away from everyone, including Odo. He gave me the distance. We just started regaining our friendship when he pulled away again. I mean, he even went and got himself married before I could even talk to him. He surprised everyone with that stunt."

"Stunt? You don't think he loves the woman he married?"

Kira snorted. "Not likely. She was chasing him down like a crazed razor- cat hunter on the sight of spoor. He did what he could to stay away from her when he first saw her."

"But he married her anyway?"

"Well, they did say he came up with the idea to marry her so she could keep her baby. I didn't entirely understand the thing, but..."

"It made sense to you then, since obviously he couldn't possibly love the woman."

"Right."

Li smiled. "And if he couldn't love her, then how could he love anyone?"

"Li...Odo's not like that. He doesn't think that way!"

"Really?" Li sat straighter. "How does he think then Nerys, since you know him so well?" She glared at him and he smiled. "I'm waiting."

"Well, maybe he does think that way...who would know? But not about Lwaxana."

"Lwaxana?"

"The pregnant ambassador he married."

"Ah...the baby wasn't his then?"

"Odo?" Kira snorted again. "Not likely unless some new scientific advance was made that I don't know about letting silicone and iron-based lifeforms mix."

Li considered this, nodded a little sadly, then sighed. "Poor constable."

Nerys turned at this and frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Li merely shook his head. "He has to pretend to look like us and act like us, but when he actually starts to feel like us, to want the same things, the door of possibility is slammed in his face, even by those who profess to know him." He took her hand and squeezed it. "Nerys, the man that shouted at you in rage...in passion...was just that; a man-- whatever made him, silicone or carbon or energy or water, that man has feelings-- and if I could hear them through the bulkhead and if I can see them in the actions that you've cited...why can't you?"

THE HUNT FOR YESTERDAY...

"Now why am I not surprised?"

Quark's voice was twice as gravelly as Zek's Odo noted. And he's twice as stooped and gnarled...

"What brings you here, constable?"

Larissa smiled at the Ferengi's suspicious manner. He had placed both hands around the head of the solid, golden cudgel which marked him as Grand Nagus (or at least a wanna-be) at first sight of Odo. Jake was in Tokyo; he had taken it upon himself to find and convince Keiko and Molly O'Brien to accompany them to the old station, even if he had to lie. Odo didn't think Mrs. O'Brien would require an elaborate scheme; she had always seemed a sensible woman in his estimation. Tris had gladly gone with her husband, citing a need to travel. So now he stood with a Trill at his side who he was chagrined to realize he was starting to find a charming companion. This thought made him scowl for benefit of mixed company and he tried to deliver a semblance of his normal tone for the elderly Nagus.

"I always keep an eye on Ferengi, Quark, you know that."

Odo managed to infuse a gruff tone in his voice, but really the gravelly timbre was also partly due to the sudden tightness in his throat at seeing his old foil in such a frail and elderly condition.

"How's that wife of yours? Still keeping you out of trouble?"

At this Odo sighed. "Lwaxana died ten years ago, Quark."

"I see. And finally turned your attention on pretty young Trill, I see, like I used to encourage you to do."

The Ferengi ogled Larissa. Despite his advanced age, he obviously still appreciated life fully. Larissa smiled at Quark and waggled her brows at Odo, who gave her a small, tight smile in return. "I guess we've been found out, constable."

"Well, happy for you both and all, but my idiot grandson dragged me all this way after promising to take me to New Deneb. There was profit at New Deneb. But then this thing happened and now I'm here and I'm old and...say...you look the same Odo. But you added hair to your face. Do you know what that means to a Ferengi? You'd cut it off if you did." He turned to his nephew, the long-suffering Captain Nog, without pausing to draw breath, "Boy! I'm losing latinum as we speak. What the credit voucher are we doing here?"

"If you don't take a breath and listen, Quark, you'll lose a lot more than latinum,"Odo quipped now, irritated at the Ferengi's continued penchant for financial gains and added, "please come with us. We need to tell you something."

"Hurrik, speed to the station?"

"Ten hours, sir."

"Excellent. Once we arrive, hold steady at the coordinates."

"Your will is mine own, m'lord."

Garak smiled at his second in command and turned his eyes to the viewscreen. He could not see the station yet. What a grandiose expression...the station. It was a floating, leaky hulk. After the strange events that had occurred thirty-three years ago, after the wormhole was collapsed and the rejoicing over the end of the Dominion threat and the sobering reality of commerce now gone had taken it's place...

Starfleet never allocated more funds to the station. Bajor had other things to concern themselves with. DS9 never truly recovered from the events...and a plain, simple tailor had been able to glean the situation to it's full advantage, to take certain credit and no one alive had been able to disprove his claims.

So why is it I am not satisfied now? The deities must be laughing...I only find peace and contentment when I am sewing. The junior officers on the bridge exchanged brief glances as their head of state, the gray haired leader in the command chair began to chuckle, then to laugh, but no one said anything. The silence was telling enough.

The Kentucky was large; an exploratory science vessel, and the accommodations were very comfortable. To Odo's chagrin, Larissa had requested adjoining quarters for them and to his embarrassment, Captain Nog had flashed him a grin, rubbed his ear briefly and merely nodded at his yeoman to see to her request.

Quark hadn't bothered to needle him, the elder Ferengi was still unclear about things, perhaps a touch of the senility Nog had mentioned, or perhaps not liking the fact that what they were doing did not involve profit. In all, the condition of his old foil bothered Odo more than anything. I can imagine him earning enough to buy his office, but surely there is more in his life than acquisition? He was quite taken with that Cardassian woman, and he even married a Klingon briefly. But then who am I to be wondering about his romantic life?

Jake had still not returned from his self-imposed mission and the rest were merely waiting now, half in hope, half in dread of the task which awaited them. The Ferengi's feeble sounding utterance interrupted his thoughts.

"So what have you been doing with yourself, Ambassador?"

Quark's quavering voice troubled him more than anything. Is this what he would have had to look forward to if he remained a Changeling? Watching the people he knew and cared for grow old and infirm and eventually die? He was suddenly glad that he had been punished with humanity by his people. But I still outlived her....

"Still think of her, eh? She was a beautiful woman."

To his surprise, Odo did not anger at the Ferengi's offhand tone. It did not matter in this elsewhere and otherwhen if the truth came out. He merely nodded.

"Yes, she was."

IN THE GRAY ZONE...

"He said I was pretty. It was the first thing he ever told me." Kira sighed.

"An observant man."

Kira smiled at her mother. "He was...is. Prophets I hope he's all right."

"Would it matter? You are here. He is there."

"But if he's alive then the rest...they're safe." Kira clung to this thought.

"Ah, so he is that powerful this shapeshifting friend of yours?"

Kira frowned. "No, of course not, but...well--" she sighed. "I always felt safe if he was...if he was there. He never let me down, never let any of us down."

"I see." Mother assessed daughter then she clucked her tongue and shook her head. "You cut your hair, Nerys. It was so beautiful."

"Honestly, mother--I didn't have time for it."

"So you cut it off."

"Well, yes."

"You made time for romance I see. That Bareil is handsome and wise."

"Yes, we were very happy."

"But the Prophets decreed something other for you." Kira nodded. "A good thing then that you can be together again."

Kira nodded again...but her expression remained troubled now.

Worf was stunned. His beloved bat'leth fell from his nerveless fingers. The ring of steel and the battle he had been immersed in seemed to fade into the very grayness of this place. All else took second place to the presence of his mate.

"Is it really you?"

K'Ehylar smiled. "Still don't trust your senses old man?"

"I am not old!" He scowled, then a soft smile filtered through his beard. "You are the same. It is you."

"Or as much of me as there is," she sighed.

He ignored this. "Then we are in Stovol'kor."

"Maybe we're where we want to be."

"Our son is orphaned." Worf was momentarily pensive, then his shoulders straightened. "He is in good hands. My mother will care for him."

"He needs his father."

"He needed his mother."

"I couldn't help that, Worf. I didn't want to leave him-- to leave you-- but the choice was taken away."

"And the choice was taken from me, as well. But at least we were both killed by an honored enemy...we've earned a place here."

"What an interesting concept...Stovol'kor, you say?"

"Did you not recognize it when you arrived?"

"Arrived?"

He frowned now. "When you got here, K'ehylar. Has it been so long that you don't remember?"

"Long? How long has it been, Worf?"

He considered this and sighed. "Five years."

"And you've missed me this time?"

He frowned again, stung. "Of course, K'ehylar. You are my mate, the mother of my son."

"Alexander."

He waited, but she said nothing further and he finally relented from his questions. This place was not conducive to conversation, even though the battle had receded. This troubled him; he wanted to re-enter that fray. Her words cut through the ringing of the blood, the distant ringing of the battle he wanted to re-enter.

"It was an interesting battle. I wonder why a battle after death?"

Worf looked surprised, then shrugged. "It is true, you were raised among Humans, you would not understand." And he sat then, K'ehylar joining him after a few moments and he began reciting the histories like a weaver of tales.

"Miles?"

"Miles?"

"It just occurred...maybe this is some strange temporal thing. I mean look at us--we've experienced more than our share of them."

"True...but what would this be then?"

"A temporal loop?"

"Nah, that wouldn't put us here, in this gray place. We'd be on the station."

"A subspace inversion effect?"

"That would explain this place, but the both of us wouldn't be here, just one of us and the rest of the crew as well."

"A spatial anomoly?"

"Maybe...but why would the both of us be here in this gray place? Wouldn't the whole station be affected?" A beat.

"I hate temporal physics!!"

Julian woke in the gray zone to find himself once more holding the hand of the dead Jadzia. The shock of it was mind-numbing, the pain staggering. And he was no longer so youthful, so easily able to adjust to the sudden twists and turns of this thick gray place. His mouth firmed then.

I was old once before...but that was a dream, much like this is probably a dream. And in that dream, the people I know and care for, they were trying to help me. He looked to the dead woman whose cold hand he held in his own painful wrinkled one and frowned. But the only one I've seen is Jadzia. Where are O'Brien and the major? Where are Captain Sisko and constable Odo? Where are the people who were the mainstay of my early and so formative life? I cannot believe I am here alone...

"You aren't, my dear doctor."

He turned to find his old nemesis, a cheerful smile and affable expression on his familiar face much as he remembered him. He wore his typical well- tailored outfit and the slick black hair Bashir knew well. When we were young men...

"But we are young men, Julian."

He lifted his hands and noted once more that Jadzia was gone...and so was his pathetic withered body. He was as he had been when he last remembered...so long ago. What is wrong with me?

Bashir did not hesitate to ask. "Garak what happened? What's wrong with me? Is this a dream?"

"Or an illusion? Nothing is wrong with you, doctor. As for what happened, let's just say if a part of me hadn't died at the same time, I wouldn't be here now either."

Sisko sought his son. He knew it was selfish, he knew it was wrong to not be glad he was alive, but despite the increasing joy he found in this gray zone, a part of him wanted to know Jake was alright...would be alright. Jennifer did not gainsay him. Her gentle smile was as he remembered.

"I miss him, too."

"Somehow there's got to be a way to reach him...or maybe just for us to see him."

"I sense him...I sense my boy. He's thinking of you, too."

"Missing me?" Benjamin sighed. "He missed you for years. It was only recently that he started--"

"To forget me?" her gentle smile increased. There was no blame or rancor in it.

"Never that, Jen. He started to accept it and to make something of himself, to define what he wanted and to stick with it. That's when he started to write and to be at peace with himself. Before that he was aimless and bored and getting into all sorts of trouble. I was praying for when he'd join Starfleet and find some purpose to his life. He found it on his own though."

"I knew you'd manage, Ben, if you just stopped looking at Jake like a smaller version of yourself."

He looked up at this. "But he is...and he isn't...a version of both of us."

"Jake may never be in Starfleet, Ben, but he is still your son. You still love your father, don't you?"

"Of course."

"He never went to Starfleet either."

"True enough. But then he never had the opportunities I did. Granddad would never have forgiven him if he'd shut down the business he'd built in his lifetime."

"Well, Starfleet isn't a business, just an organization. Both of us were cogs within it...and look where it got me, Ben."

He looked at his wife, took her hand in his. "I never forgot that day, Jen. It was burned into my mind, my memories. But then the Prophets--"

His wife tilted her head assessingly. "Prophets, Ben?"

A wash of ice and flames rushed through him, the sensation familiar; he had experienced it during his first trip through the wormhole...when the hyperphysical aliens who lived inside had chosen to appear to him. "The Prophets. Dear God...that ship exploded near the mouth of the wormhole. And then nothing seemed to matter except this...here...Jen...can you tell me, am I dead?"

"I don't know. What is death, Ben?"

Benjamin Sisko looked into his wife's eyes and read the truth in their depths. Somehow, in someway, this timeless place had locked him into what he knew and felt to be familiar. But their surroundings remained, a fractured landscape of old memory and gray zone. It should have told him at once, but the presence of his loved ones, of what he knew and what he remembered and all the accompanying emotions had effectively blinded him. I'm not dead...not yet...but I might become that way until I can figure this out. If that explosion engulfed the station, it would surely have affected the wormhole...affected the aliens within it, the Prophets...in their own way, perhaps the explosion damaged them...or maybe just damaged their home. A sudden and catastrophic event; what would that mean to an entity outside of time--and what do I, their Emissary have to do?

"Sometimes one man is insufficient to a task, Ben. Like in Starfleet, the organization is only as great as all it's parts. Some are more prominent than others. Some are hidden but of great importance, like the cogs within a great machine. Still others grease the wheels and keep things operational."

"Jen..." he looked at her with sorrow, but also hope. Someday he would be united with her, but for now, this manifestation was not the woman he loved.

"But I am. I am what you made me. As such, I do love you. I understand what this means now."

He conceded this was probably true. Whatever had happened to the wormhole, it had affected the Prophets in such a way as to affect not only the surroundings, but their interactions. He had been brought...were others here? Or was he alone in his suddenly monumental task?

"What about my people, Jen?"

"Are they your people, Ben? Or their own? How much of what made them and brought them to this place belongs to you and how much belongs to them?"

He considered this. "All of what they are."

She nodded. "They must come to your discovery...or their own...in this entity you call time which holds you within it."

"But how long will that take?" And was time fluid to them, just as it was to the Prophets who originally had no concept of it? Or were they trapped in their own version of what death meant to them? How much time would they need to come to their realization of what happened? How much time would it take?

Jen squeezed the hand he still held and he was startled to feel his body's response. Somehow, in some fundamental way, she was Jennifer Sisko. He would never have responded otherwise. He kissed her hand and was rewarded with a smile.

"As long as it takes."

THE HUNT FOR YESTERDAY...

"It's just that I find it no mere coincidence, Jake."

"You might be right, constable, but...I honestly feel we're doing the right thing...going back...trying to return."

He had successfully wrangled Keiko and Molly...now a stunningly beautiful chief medical officer--and new mother-- stationed at Utopia Planitia into coming on this fool's errand. Jake had returned to find Odo agitated and voicing concerns he himself had been suppressing from the others.

Odo stood and began to pace, feeling the now-familiar slow roil inside him which he had read about in Chief O'Brien's novels. The Humans called it 'stomach-turning' and he knew now what that meant. His insides churned with his emotional state, something he had never experienced as a Changeling-- but then his feelings were now also worn openly instead of sifting through his body in gentle (and not so gentle) internal waves. Another thing he had gotten used to... Larissa stopped his train of thought with her quiet voice.

"Jake...Odo feels we need to do more than just go back and return to the right temporal frame, body and mind...he thinks we need to figure out how to re-open the wormhole...and change this history."

"It's more than a feeling. It's the only thing that makes sense," Odo insisted now, sitting back down by Jake's side at the dining table in his quarters aboard the Kentucky. His eyes bore into Jakes. "I find it hard