Authors' note: This story takes place 61 years in the future, and the flashbacks take place somewhere between six months to a year after the events of "Tears of the Prophets."
**********
--Evelyn Waugh
**********
"Mam?"
"Yes?" Tolor Anta didn't look down at her daughter Nerys, her
attention occupied by her cooking. Her turn to host family gatherings
never failed to throw her into a panic for weeks in advance. She always
prayed that her spot on the rotation would fall upon a smaller, more casual
gathering like a birthday or a minor holiday, but no such luck this year.
She'd drawn the annual family reunion. Sighing as she cast a resigned
glance over her chaotic kitchen, she again bemoaned the unfortunate truth
that she wasn't nearly as adept a cook as her mother or her sisters. Or
her brother, for that matter. Or her aunts or uncles or her
grandmother...in fact, she was probably the worst hostess in the entire
family. It made no difference, no one cared that her soup was watery and
her bread was flat. They always complimented her on her hospitality and
smiled through mouthfuls of cake so dry it would choke a fish.
Nerys, a tall and very precocious eleven, was sitting in the bay
window looking out at the yard where the family was gathered. Anta could
hear their laughter and shouts as the children batted springballs against
the lawn shed and the clink of glasses as her family chatted amongst
themselves. "Is Grandma Nerys okay?" The girl's voice was concerned.
Anta's brow creased and she laid down her knife to stand behind her
daughter. She looked out the window to where her grandmother sat a bit
apart from her family in her favorite lawn chair, her legs crossed and her
gaze fixed out towards the lake at the edge of the Tolor property. "She
isn't saying much."
"Perhaps she's just tired, dear. She's not as young as she used
to be," Anta said, attempting a small joke. It was a frequent comment
among the family that their formidable matriarch seemed to defy the effects
of time, growing more forceful as she approached the century mark...yet her
namesake great-granddaughter was correct, today she seemed smaller, older.
She always seems out of sorts at the reunion, a small voice in Anta's head
spoke up. She frowned...that was true. She'd never realized the
connection before. Anta laid a hand on Nerys' shoulder. "Have you spoken
to her today?"
Nerys shrugged. "Started to, but she didn't seem to want to
talk. She's always quiet at the reunion." The girl said this so
matter-of-factly that Anta felt a flash of guilt that she'd never noticed
it herself before now.
"I wonder why?" Anta mused.
Nerys shrugged again and hopped off the windowbay, clearly having
pursued this topic as much as she intended to. She grabbed a glass of tea
and bounded out the door to join her cousins. Anta went back to slicing
vegetables, feeling vaguely troubled. It's not any kind of sad
anniversary, she thought. Grandpa died in the wintertime, their wedding
had been in the spring, his birthday was right before the Gratitude
Festival. Well, perhaps she'll tell us someday. She put the matter out of
her mind, not knowing that her questions would be answered sooner than she
thought.
***********
Anta breathed a sigh of immense relief when dinner was finally
over, and (miracle of miracles) it had actually been palatable. The plates
had been all but licked clean and she'd been showered with even more
effusive praise than usual.
"Good show, Anta," said her uncle Antos (after whom she had been
named), strolling up to her as she stood leaning in the backyard doorway.
"I believe you're improving with age."
She swatted at him. "Thanks for reminding me of my rapidly
approaching death, Antos." She smiled at him, then her eyes fell on her
grandmother, still sitting a bit apart in her chair and not speaking. "Did
she eat anything?" she asked softly.
Antos cast a glance at his mother and sighed. "I don't think so.
But she's always a bit melancholy this time of year. I think she just
doesn't like autumn."
Anta threw up her hands. "Does everyone know about Grandma's
moods but me?"
"Well, you've always been a little obtuse, Anta." Their chuckles
were interrupted as Anta's mother approached them, a serious expression on
her face.
"Mom wants to have a family meeting tonight," she announced
without preamble.
"A family meeting?" Antos said, puzzled. "Prophets, Zia, we
haven't had one of those since..."
Jadzia nodded. "Since she and Dad told us that he was sick."
The three exchanged an alarmed glance. "She said not to worry, she just
had something she wanted to share with us." She moved away to spread the
word, leaving her brother and daughter in considerably darker spirits than
she'd found them.
*************
Hours later, the children piled into beds for naps and the dishes
washed and put away, everyone moved to Anta's large sitting room where
Dora Nerys was already ensconced in her favorite chair. She watched as her
family gathered slowly around her, not speaking much. Their faces were so
familiar and dear to her...and their names all had meaning, though they
didn't all know it. Her three sons, Pohl, Rian and Antos, knew the legacy
their names gave them...their long-dead uncles and a mayrtred Vedek who'd
been special to their mother. Her daughter Jadzia knew the origin of her
unusual name, just as she maintained a friendship with the being who had
used it for a short time. Her grandchildren bore the names of other family
members, both her own and her late husband's. Nerys' eyes could not help
but linger, as they always seemed to, upon her enigmatic youngest daughter.
She would never in a million years have spoken it aloud, but to herself she
could admit that she was her favorite. So strong, so reserved, with a
intellect as sharp as a blade and a dry wit to match. Nerys wasn't blind,
she knew the reason she favored this child over her others...and who she
reminded her of. It was only fitting that this woman was the only one of
her children who did not know for whom she had been named...but tonight,
Itala would find out, as would everyone else. It was time, time for them
to hear and know the truth of the events that had comprised such an
important part of her life; and she had decided long ago that she must
speak of him at least once before she died.
Three sons, two daughters. Seven granddaughters, five grandsons.
Eighteen great-grandchildren and counting...two more expected next year, in
fact. A kind and loving husband, now ten years with the Prophets. Much
prosperity and health, very little in the way of misfortune and sorrow.
Life had given the woman once known as Kira Nerys much to be thankful for
and many years of happiness, yet there was not a day that went by that she
did not feel horribly cheated; a feeling that was even more excruciating on
this particular day. Time had not healed her pain any more than it had
faded her love, and in that she again felt cheated...for how often,
afterwards, had she been reassured that she would feel better with time?
The faces of her children and grandchildren now gathered around her were
somber and expectant...no doubt they were bracing for bad news. She
reassured them with a smile as she began to speak.
"You all look so frightened," she said. "Don't be. I'm not
sick, no one has died, there is no crisis, everything is fine." Everyone
in the room relaxed. "I've called you here because...well, because it's
time I told you a story, one that I've never shared with anyone...not even
my husband, though I do think that he guessed at bits of it."
"A story, Mom?" Rian said, puzzled.
"That's right, dear. I'm sure that most of you have noticed that
I...tend to be a bit depressed around this time of year." Much nodding
greeted this statement, except from her granddaughter Anta, who heaved a
deep sigh and shook her head. Poor thing probably never noticed, Nerys
thought. She's just as obtuse as I used to...she stopped that thought
midway and forced her mind back to the task at hand. One word at time,
Nerys. "There is a reason for it, and by the time I'm through I hope you
will all understand."
She stood up, a small but stately woman of a hearty 98 years of
age, her figure as trim and her posture as straight as when she'd worn a
uniform. She went to the window and stared up at the night sky, imagining
that she could see the wormhole opening from here. Make a wish, she
thought to herself, and never mind being careful what you wish for. "What
I'm going to say may be difficult for you to hear. I only ask that you
hear it all the way through before you react." Her descendants exchanged
worried glances. Pohl, her eldest and most sympathetic child, spoke up.
"Go on, Mother. It sounds like, whatever it is, you've wanted to
tell us for a long time."
She nodded, turning back to face them. "The most important thing
to remember is that I love all of you with all my heart, and that's the
truth. I wouldn't trade the joy you have given me for anything in the
universe...but the truth is..." She took a deep breath and sat down again,
not trusting her legs to support her while she relived a time she'd tried
very hard to put behind her. "I did not love my husband." She waited,
dreading the reaction...and she could not have been more shocked when there
was none. She hurried to amend her statement. "Oh, I was extremely fond
of him, of course! I couldn't have gotten along without him and I had a
great deal of affection for him. Jadin was good and kind and wonderfully
supportive, and he gave me all of you...but I was not in love with him."
Rian cleared his throat and glanced around. "Mother...you say
that as if you think it's news to us."
She frowned. "Isn't it?"
"We lived with you, remember?" Jadzia said with a smile.
"But..." Nerys was spluttering with confusion. She'd prepared
for anger and resentment and feelings of betrayal, but not for this. "You
were just children!"
"We're not children anymore," came Itala's low, calm voice. She
was perched on the window ledge, her arms crossed over her chest and the
moonlight streaming through the window behind her making of her form a dim
outline from which her sparkling blue eyes shone like diamonds. It was
either the will of the Prophets or one of their cruel jokes that Nerys' DNA
combined with that of her completely Bajoran husband should produce a woman
who so evocatively recalled the form and face and even some of the
mannerisms of one so completely unrelated to her. Perhaps it is the will
of the Prophets, Nerys thought...that I should never forget. As if I could
ever forget, even though at times I might wish to. Itala continued. "It
was always clear...to me, at least, that you and Dad were friends and
partners and companions, but not much more." She leaned forward, the gleam
of expectation in those eyes. "Are you finally going to tell us why that
is?" she asked, curiosity in her voice.
Nerys smiled, feeling tears touch the corners of her eyes. "Yes,
dear. I am." You could have heard a pin drop in the room. Everyone
leaned forward, drinks and snacks forgotten.
"I'm going to tell you a story about myself, and about someone
that I knew a very long time ago. When I say his name it won't be familiar
to you, though in a perfect world it would be...he should have been a great
hero, and would have been if he'd gotten the chance." She stared at her
hands and drew a deep, shaky breath. "His name was Odo...Odo Ital." All
eyes flicked briefly to Itala's face, which broke into a small smile as a
long-wondered-about puzzle finally made sense. "He was the only man I ever
truly loved." She paused, wondering how to continue, how in the world to
make them see how it had been.
"You all know of my time in the Militia, and on the station. You
all know Dax, and some of you have met a few of my other friends from that
time. Admiral Sisko, Doctor Bashir. None of them understood, not really,
my desire not to speak of Odo, though they honored it as best they could.
At times I've often felt a pretender, telling all of you grand tales of my
adventures during the Dominion War and my years on Deep Space Nine...all
the while leaving out any mention of the most significant person in my life
at that time. I've felt too that I was cheating him somehow by not
speaking of him...I hope he understands. I'm sure he does, he always
understood me even when no one else did." She dashed at her eyes and went
on.
"Odo was Chief of Security on the station. You might not know
his name but I'm sure you've all heard of the Changeling who lived there,
the renegade." Most of her enthralled listeners nodded...their history
lessons of the Dominion War had mentioned him in passing. A brief smile
passed across Nerys' face. "That was my Odo. He was my best friend. I
could tell him anything, and I often did. We had our ups and down, of
course, but he was like a strong wall at my back. Little did I realize he
was in love with me." She shuddered. "I try not to think about the fact
that if I hadn't been so blind, we might have had years together instead of
just a few short months. The fact is that he hid his feelings very well,
calmly watching me have relationships with other men, behaving in all ways
as a friend. Over the years he became as necessary to me as the very air
in my lungs.
When I finally learned how he felt, at first it confused me. I
wasn't terribly sure about my feelings for him at that time either. Then
the war intervened, and things got complicated...then suddenly, as if by
magic, they weren't complicated. They were clear as a summer sky, and I
finally knew how I felt about him, how I had always felt, deep in my pagh."
Her voice cracked a bit and she cleared her throat forcefully. "Being
loved by him and loving him in return...well, I'm no poet, I don't have the
words to describe how it was. It was like being let out of a prison I
hadn't realized I was trapped in, it was like finding the last puzzle
piece, it was like..." She shook her head. "I don't know what it was
like. All I know is that I loved him desperately, and I've never
experienced that kind of total intimacy, before or since." She paused, her
hands clenched together and her head bowed.
Itala spoke up from her corner perch. "Mom...is today some kind
of anniversary for you? Is that why you're sad this time of year?"
Nerys nodded, feeling the old pain swell in her chest as strong
and as vengeful as it had been when it was first born. "Yes, it is. You
see, Odo died 61 years ago today...and I've never really found a way to
deal with it."
*************
"What about the invitations?"
"Why do we need invitations?"
"How are people going to know to come otherwise?"
"Let's just grab the first thirty people we see off the Promenade
and drag them in."
She realized he was teasing her. "We should make a list." She
picked up a PADD from the bedside table.
"Not another list, Nerys!"
"This is how it's done."
"Says who?"
"Says...I don't know, the Orb of Wedding Plans!" she said,
laughing. She was lying in his arms in a guest cabin aboard the USS
Constantinople, which was ferrying them home to DS9 from a Dominion War
strategy conference on Vulcan. Their wedding, still several months away,
was a favorite topic these days. Though never one for planning fancy
social events, Kira felt herself drawn into all the details...encouraged by
Sisko and Bashir, both of whom were mad for a grand spectacle on the
station. Odo went along with whatever she suggested, smiling placidly and
often reaffirming that he didn't care what else happened as long as she was
marrying him.
"Hmm, I'm not familiar with that Orb."
"Oh, the Cardassians missed that one. It's one of the
lesser-known Orbs."
"You have consulted this Orb?"
"Absolutely. It said I'm supposed to have eight bridesmaids
dressed as Orion slave girls."
"Quark will like that."
"And you're supposed to wear nothing but a big red ribbon."
"Did it say where I am to place this ribbon?"
"Now that, I think, is up to you." She tossed the PADD aside,
stopping his low chuckles with her mouth on his. As she felt his hands
moving over her and his warmth enveloping her, her clothes seeming to
almost melt off her body, all thoughts of bridesmaids and invitations were
forgotten...for the moment.
**************
Kira snapped into consciousness, not quite sure what had awakened
her until it recurred a mere second later. A red-alert klaxon. She
launched herself out of bed and scrabbled for her uniform, lying discarded
on the floor. "What's going on?" she barked at Odo, who was already at the
comm panel.
"I don't know." The ship rocked suddenly, throwing Kira against
the table. "That was a torpedo hit," he muttered.
"We're under attack?" she cried, shocked. "We're far from
Dominion territory!"
"The Founders have a funny way of determining on their own what
is and isn't their territory." The ship rocked again and Kira felt
explosions through the deckplates.
"We've got to get out of here!" she cried over the klaxons and
the muted rumble of the ship's disintegration.
Indeed, not a second later the captain's voice came over the
comm. "Abandon ship! Repeat, abandon ship! All hands to emergency pods!"
Odo grabbed Kira's arm and they ran from their quarters. The
hall was full of smoke and running people. Both of them fell automatically
into officer-mode, shepherding civilians and confused crewmen. The ship
never stopped shuddering and pitching, it was difficult to keep one's feet.
"We don't have much time!" she shouted to him over the din. He nodded and
they hurried down the hallway to their escape pods.
A door opened to Kira's right and she found herself surrounded by
children and one harried-looking woman, apparently their teacher. The
children were frantic and screaming and running in all
directions...fighting back panic, Kira began herding them towards the
escape pods, Odo hurrying behind her and urging them onwards. The teacher,
carrying a crying little girl, turned to Kira with a stricken look on her
face. "My God!" she cried. "Some of the children are in the arboretum!"
Kira's stomach dropped...if there was one thing the Occupation had
instilled in her, it was to safeguard the lives of children above all else.
"I'll get them," Odo called to her. "You make sure they get to
the pods safely!" Kira nodded even as terror rose in her at the prospect
of losing sight of him. He started back the way they'd come but she
grabbed the front of his uniform and pulled him back.
"Please be careful," she said. Their eyes locked for a moment, a
gaze so intense Kira wondered that it didn't burn straight through her
pupils into her brain.
"I will," he said. He grasped the back of her neck and kissed
her, a desperate urgency behind his mouth. Kira's fingers clutched at the
shoulder of his uniform. "I love you," she felt him breathe quickly
against her ear as he pulled away and ran down the hall. Turning back to
the children and away from him was beyond difficult, but she did it...and
got her reward as she ushered the teacher and the children safely into the
escape pod. She stood outside the door, waiting with mounting panic for
him to come around the corner with the missing children, ignoring the
teacher and a few other crewmembers as they urged her to get inside the
pod.
She swayed slightly on her feet with relief when at last he did
appear, carrying one child with three others running before him. Kira
handed them through to the teacher, sparing Odo a brief smile before he
turned her around and pushed her ahead of him into the escape pod.
When viewed through her memory, the next few seconds always
slowed to a crawl, sparing her no amount of detail as she watched the
moment unfold in her mind's eye. She saw herself boarding the pod, she saw
herself turning around, hand extended to pull him in after her, she saw him
step forward, one foot through the hatch...then, like the very breath of
the Prophets, she saw the entire corridor explode in a massive plasma
burst. It engulfed the bulkheads and raged through the hatches...his eyes
met hers for a mere fraction of a second and then he was torn away from the
hatch by the force of the explosion. She saw her own shocked face and
heard her own scream as he vanished into that firestorm.
She would not remember later, but the schoolteacher later told
Sisko that Kira had tried to climb back through the hatch into the corridor
and had to be restrained as the pod was sealed and launched. Kira did
remember being held back and watching, too horrified and drenched with
shock and grief to even make a sound, as the Constantinople exploded and
faded away into nothingness. She saw the Cardassian ship that had attacked
them retreating, and soon saw why as the Hood and the Sutherland came out
of warp near the wreckage.
Kira shrugged the schoolteacher's arms from around her shoulders
and fell to her knees in the small pod, her eyes closing as she tried to
say the death litany...but the words would not come. She sagged, her
entire body numb, and then her eyes fell upon the floor near the hatch.
There, just inside the hatch, was a small pool of a familiar golden
gelatinous substance. A low moan beginning in the back of her throat, she
scrabbled on her knees towards it. It was part of him, left behind as the
explosion liquified him and tore him apart. As the other occupants of the
pod watched in silence, she reached down and scooped it up into her hand,
her breath tearing in and out of her mouth. She stared at this small
piece, all she had left of him, as it slowly darkened and then fell away
into a fine black ash that she clutched into her fist, careful not to let a
single grain fall to the floor. She slowly drew the fist to her chest and
began to cry, quietly and helplessly, the sobs muted and the tears flowing
down her cheeks to dampen her uniform.
***********
Nerys could hear some in the room sniffling, even as her own eyes
remained dry. She had cried oceans' worth of tears since that day but it
hadn't helped, for it was a sadness too deep for tears. She paused for a
moment to collect her thoughts. "Nothing was the same for me after that.
My friends tried to console me and I appreciated their efforts, but I
didn't want to be consoled. I'd lost so many people in my life; my
parents, my brothers, friends, lovers...and all of those losses were
devastating, yet none of it prepared me for what it would be like to lose
him. He had become to me the better part of myself, all the joy and the
honor and the happiness, and when he left he took all of that with him. It
was as if I was no longer myself, as if part of my pagh died when he
died...and perhaps, in a way, it did.
I'd spent most of my life dealing with loss, but it never
occurred to me that there were some things that a person just doesn't
recover from." She paused. "I never recovered from Odo's death, not
really. I tried, mind you. I tried to do what I was told. Keep plugging
away, stiff upper lip...and my personal favorite, 'life must go on.'"
She sniffed. "I don't if it must, but it certainly does.
A few months after the funeral I put in for a transfer. I
couldn't stay on that station, not with him gone. Every place I went I'd
see his face, I'd hear his voice, I'd remember a conversation we'd had in
this turbolift or a drink we'd shared at that table at the Replimat. I
took a post at Militia headquarters and I worked there for three years. My
friends would visit from the station and no one would mention him at all.
I threw myself into my job and gradually, I healed as much as I could."
She smiled. "Then I met your father. He was so sweet and kind, and hurt
in his own way."
"From the war," Rian put in.
"Yes. I think we sensed those open wounds in each other. He
talked about his and was able to heal...but I never breathed a word of
mine."
Jadzia sighed. "You never told Dad about Odo?"
Nerys shook her head slowly. "Since I left DS9, I have not
spoken a word of him to anyone, not even our mutual friends." She thought
for a moment. "I think Jadin knew, somewhere, that I could never really
love him...and I think he sensed at least part of the reason why. Prophets
bless him, he never pressed me about it, he never asked me to tell him, he
just accepted what I was able to give him and was happy. I guess I loved
him for that." She looked up and smiled again at her listeners. "Then you
all began to come along, and I was able to partly fill that gaping hole in
my pagh with my love for my children."
Pohl reached up and grasped her hand. "But only partly." There
was no trace of bitterness in his voice, just sadness.
"Yes, darling, only partly. As much as I love my family, nothing
could ever replace him. He made me whole, and I'll never be whole again
until I can be with him." She looked up and her eyes fell on Itala. She
stood and crossed the room to lay a hand on her daughter's cheek.
"When you were born," she said softly, "I took one look in your
eyes and I knew that I had to name you after him...you look like him, you
see. Sometimes I look at you and it's so strong it makes me gasp...the way
you stand, the way you speak, even the way you think. I know it's just
coincidence, a random expression of genes...but sometimes, when I'm feeling
whimsical or especially lonesome, I find myself thinking that the part of
him that lives in me somehow found its way into you, Itala. That's not to
take away from your father, for he was a wonderful parent and he loved you
very much...but I can't help but see Odo's shadow on your face, and I can't
explain how that could be. Can you understand that?"
Itala nodded with a small, sweet smile. "Yes, Mom, I understand.
I'd..." She looked away for a moment. "I'd be happy to think that I
remind you of someone you loved so much."
"I wish I could have met him," Rian said. Murmurs of agreement.
Nerys turned around in a circle and looked at each face in turn, tears
springing to her eyes.
"You all have no idea how much it means to me that you feel that
way," she choked out. "I was so afraid that you'd...well, that you'd think
it was a betrayal of your father, or even of you."
"Mom, the most important thing is not to betray yourself," Itala
said. Nerys whirled around to stare at her, her lower lip trembling.
"Prophets, Itala..." Itala sat up straighter, her expression
concerned.
"What, Mom? What'd I say?"
Nerys drew in a deep breath and regained control. "Nothing,
dear...it's just that Odo said those exact words to me, a long time ago."
Everyone sighed a little, and Nerys made her way back to her chair.
"Well...that's the story, my dears. I know some of you have suspected that
there was some missing piece to my life that I didn't share with
anyone...now you know everything." She paused. "Do you have any questions
you'd like me to answer for you?"
"I do," Itala said. Everyone turned to look at her. "What did
you do with his ashes? That little bit that you were able to save."
Nerys nodded, staring once again at her tightly interlaced
fingers, praying she could still get through this without breaking down.
It had already been a very near thing a few times. "In my special trunk,
the one with the Bajoran seal on it, there are a lot of things that will
come to you all after I am gone. In the corner is a sealed duranium box.
Inside the box is everything I saved of his, of ours. My betrothal
bracelet that he gave me, some souvenirs from trips we took together, a
necklace he gave me...and a small case that contains an urn. Inside are
his ashes." She allowed another shudder to pass over her unremarked.
"While I live, no one will disturb that box. After I am gone...Itala will
open the box, and the five of you may do with those items what you think
fit." She stood up and went again to the window, looking up to where she
knew the wormhole lay dormant, waiting for someone to knock upon its gates
and demand entrance. "There is only one request I would make of you. My
life for the last sixty years has been given to my work and my family, and
given gladly...but in another very real sense, it's also been spent
waiting. Since that horrible day when the Constantinople was destroyed, I
have been waiting to be with him again. All I ask is that you consider
that."
************
"We might as well get it over with, Itala."
She glanced at her brother, then nervously back at the duranium
box before her. Inside was waiting the only tangible evidence of a man
they hadn't known existed until ten years ago. Since that day, the whole
family had heard from Nerys many more stories about Odo and their time on
Deep Space Nine, but she steadfastly refused to open the box and show them
anything that was inside. It would wait until she was gone, she said.
And now she was. Three days before, Dora Nerys had died
peacefully of a brain embolism while weeding her garden. It was how she
had always hoped she'd die, quickly, painlessly and without illness. All
other arrangements had been taken care of, the body had been cremated, the
memorial service had been this morning...attendance had been in the
hundreds. Now only this task remained. Nerys' five children had come to
know Odo through their mother's stories, and they couldn't help but be
touched by her love for him, which still burned as brightly after 70 years
and shone clearly through the stories she told. One might say they had
come to love him a little bit themselves.
Itala nodded, then picked up the desealer and opened the box.
They craned their necks as she reached inside to withdraw the objects
within. The first was a PADD. "They're pictures," she breathed. At last
they would see what he'd looked like. Itala activated the PADD and they
were greeted by the sight of their mother, young and beautiful in her
wine-red Militia uniform and beaming a wide happy smile...she was standing
in a meadow, looked like Bajor, in the arms of a man who could only be Odo.
They studied his face with the curiosity of those who had, until this
moment, only heard descriptions. "Prophets, Itala," Jadzia breathed. "Mom
was right...you *do* look like him."
Itala nodded, staring into a pair of deepset blue eyes much like
her own. "That is very strange," she said. They sat round the table
examining item after item...letters, more pictures, a necklace packed in a
box with a holorod (they made plans to run the program as soon as they had
the chance), and many other items of personal significance. Nerys, at some
point since telling them her long-held secret, had placed a PADD in the box
that explained the items and their origins. They read the stories on the
PADD with growing excitement as they touched the items in the box...it was
as if they had finally been given concrete proof of the reality of a
relationship which, at times, had seemed to them like a fairy tale or a
mythical love story. But it was real, it had happened, and their mother
had lived it.
Finally they found the golden urn, five faces sobering as Itala
lifted it carefully from the box. "Here it is," she said. No further
comment was necessary. They rose, as one, to walk slowly into the living
room of their parents' house. Sitting incongruously in the middle of the
dining room table was their mother's simple urn, all that was left of the
strong-willed fiery woman who had borne and raised them. Itala set the
small golden urn down next to it and looked up at her brothers and sister.
They all nodded to each other...they were in agreement. Antos reached out
and opened the top of his mother's urn. Itala, in one swift motion,
emptied into it the contents of the small gold urn. Antos closed the lid
and hugged the urn to his chest. "What now?" he whispered.
"Now we do as Mom wanted. We bury the urn with her parents and
her brothers and Dad."
"What about Odo?" Jadzia whispered.
Itala nodded towards the large urn. "They're together now, just
as they should have been." No one needed to be told that she meant more
than just their ashes mixing in a single urn.
"Do you really believe that?" Rian murmured.
"Yes, I do. They were denied a life together, so I have to
believe they'll be given the afterlife together." She smiled. "I believe
that's justice...and so, I think, will the Prophets."
"I caught him with an unseen hook and an invisible line, which was long
enough to let him wander to the ends of the world...and still so short as
to bring him back with a twitch upon the thread."