TRIGGER WARNING: Please note this story deals with suicide and addiction.
She smoothed out a gather in her pants as she stepped off the lift. She was late, a habit that was unfortunately becoming a trait. It just seemed that wherever she was headed, however early a jump she got on getting there, something along the way managed to send those precious extra minutes into a temporal distortion. Tonight it had been getting the dermal regenerator to take; at least it had given her the appearance of normalcy, reducing the bruise that had spread across her cheek to what might be dismissed as a smudge or bad lighting. There hadn’t been time to even attempt fixing some of the others, but they had been hidden easily enough with a few choice selections in wardrobe.
A strange anxiety started to rise up as she approached the restaurant. The more time she spent with the people on this station, the more she became aware of how far from normal she was and – more surprising – how much she missed it. It was easy to convince oneself it was behavior that came with the uniform, a sometime side effect of being in Starfleet. Only there had been little evidence of the same restlessness she felt here.
A diminutive blonde woman led her back through the restaurant, chatting with patrons as they went. Kyleea was constantly impressed with Bajorans, something in the way they managed to embrace life after decades of Occupation was something to be admired and emulated. She wondered if she would have had the same fortitude if their roles in life had been reversed.
A deceptively large establishment, a busy common area took up most of the restaurant with smaller private circular booths lining the back walls. As she slid into the booth, Dax glanced over with a deliberately neutral gaze.
“What’s wrong?” Kyleea asked, feeling her back tighten.
“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Kira said, forcing a smile. “Should we order?”
“Shakaar wasn’t too happy when she cancelled on him,” Dax added, ignoring Kira’s attempt to stop her.
“Ah, I see. If you’d rather go, we can always…”
“Like I said, nothing to worry about. He’ll get over it.” Kira leaned back in the booth, twirling the stem of her glass of spring wine.
Silence fell between them, and Kyleea felt half a dozen sentences start to form on her lips. Somehow, they all fell flat. A glance at Dax confirmed there was more she was holding back herself.
“Well, if we’re not going to talk about it, can we order?” Dax added finally. “I’m starving.”
Kyleea felt a familiar tension, the kind that grows between friends trying to help friends… with less than cooperation. She had been on Kira’s end of those ministrations too many times. “So, what’s good here?”
“It has been far too long since I’ve had real Bajoran food,” Kyleea remarked, savoring each bite.
“Sadly enough, I’ll have to agree with you on that. You’d think living anywhere in Bajoran space would guarantee it, but this place has quickly become a welcome addition.”
“Well,” Dax added with a smile, “and it doesn’t hurt that they seem to carry the best vintages of Spring Wine, although don’t tell Quark I said so.”
“Mmm, your secret is safe with me,” Kira said with a laugh, but she couldn’t stop herself from glancing at Kyleea as she said it.
“So, Kyleea, tell us more about yourself. Julian said you work on a science ship… Have you ever been to the Enicar system?”
“Is that in Federation territory?” Diam asked, her hand paused over her bowl.
“No, about 400,000 lightyears outside of Cardassian space. Actually, it’s probably one of the farthest places from the Federation that I know of in this quadrant.”
She couldn’t help the sigh that escaped her, lamentably picking at her food. “We really don’t get outside of Federation space.” And that’s part of the problem. Boldly going where everyone has gone before.
“Well, if you get bored, I’m sure I could come up with a story or two…”
“Or four,” Kira interjected nonchalantly.
“… that you might find interesting,” Dax finished, ignoring the comment.
“Thanks, but I think avoiding anything scientifically interesting is supposed to be part of the reason I’m here.”
“Oh, well in that case,” Dax said, her eyes lighting up, “you have to come to the masquerade ball next week.”
“A ball?” She leaned forward towards Kira, keeping Dax in her peripheral vision. “Do people still have those?”
“Absolutely!” Dax answered. “It’ll be perfect, everyone will be dressed up and disguised so you won’t have to worry about who you know and don’t know. And if you’re worried about the dances, I’m sure…”
“Dances? Like with steps and this foot here, this foot there?”
Dax shrugged. “Sure, it’s part of the tradition.”
“Well, then count me out. I wouldn’t want to spoil Julian’s time by creating an epidemic of foot injuries.”
“I can teach you. How’s tomorrow, 2100?”
“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea, Dax. I’ve never really been…”
“Oh, come on. If Julian can teach you springball in less than a day, I can certainly teach you dancing in a week.”
“Nerys…” Kyleea poured her desperation into the appeal.
“Oh, no. Leave me out of this. I learned long ago not to get between Dax and anything to do with a party.”
Kyleea stirred around what was left of her ratamba stew, half wishing she could be transported away and half wishing she hadn’t made such a large deal of protesting in the first place.
“Come on, Diam. At least give it a shot. And if it all works out, I’ve even got a few spare costume patterns filed away as backups that we can have Garak alter for you.”
“Fine, fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you … or your feet.”
“Great! Now, what’s this I hear about you liking Odo?”
Kyleea tossed her napkin onto the table. “Well, let’s just jump right in then.” She glanced up at Kira, a rueful smile on her face.
“I warned you – Dax lives for these sort of things.”
“What can I say, I’m a hopeless romantic,” Dax added quietly. “And when it comes to Odo… well I think he needs a little romance in his life more than he’d like to admit. Frankly, I’m surprised it hasn’t come up before.”
“I’m not,” Diam sighed. “It’s not that hard to convince people you don’t need what’s so obviously missing in your life. And if you’re good enough, you can even manage to convince yourself.” She lifted her glass of spring wine to drink and noticed Kira lost in thought as she chewed a bite of her veklava. From what she understood, the Major knew Odo the best of perhaps anyone, and yet she seemed to be absorbing Dax’s words as completely new information.
“Did you get a chance to talk to him, Nerys?”
“Hmm?” The question broke Kira free from her train of thought. “Oh… I wish I could say things had gone smoothly, but whatever’s caused him to think ill of you, it’s stuck pretty deep. I haven’t seen him that aggravated in a long time; in fact, I think the very fact that he’s unsure exactly why is part of what’s spurring him on.”
“Were you able to tell him about my being … you know?” Diam asked, nodding towards Dax.
“No, some security issue conveniently came up before I could get to that. It’s his way of saying the conversation’s over and I didn’t know if it was the best idea to force the issue at the time.”
Dax, who had been glancing between the two, sat up a little straighter as Kira finished. “About you being what?”
Kyleea sighed and ran a hand over her face to try and smooth away the tension there. Perhaps it had been unrealistic to think of keeping this a secret. She turned to Dax, extending her hand in greeting. “Commander Kyleea Diam, USS Roddenberry. Nice to meet you.”
“Ah, I could see how that would complicate things… and why Julian’s been beaming the past few days. He doesn’t usually get the exclusive draw on things around here. Although I’m surprised I didn’t put two and two together earlier…” Dax started to lean back in the booth but drew herself quickly back, leaning forward and looking over Diam with fresh eyes. “When did you graduate from the Academy?”
“Class of ’60.”
“Hmm, that must be it then. You were practically out the door when I was still getting my feet wet.” Dax bit at her lower lip, searching her memory.
“Small universe,” Nerys added quietly, a smirk forming on her mouth.
“The portion I’ve been seeing of it lately at least. Compared to some of Diam’s former hosts, I feel like I’m treading water sometimes.”
“Good,” Dax said, pushing her plate towards the center of the table. “That means you’ll have plenty of leg muscle built up for dancing.”
Diam lifted her napkin and waved it around. “All right already, consider this my white flag of surrender!”
“Just making sure,” Dax replied innocently. She held the seriousness for a few moments before another idea struck. “Kira, do you know if Odo’s planning on attending the ball? Maybe I should invite him for some lessons as well – it might be the perfect opportunity to show him Diam’s not just some vagrant passing through.”
Kira felt her brow furrow. She wasn’t sure if it was the thought of Odo spending time in a holosuite or the thought of him dancing. But given the icy tone of their conversation this morning, she doubted he would embrace either opportunity. “Not the way he’s been acting lately. You stick to teaching Kyli how to dance; I’ll try and figure out what’s going on with Odo.”
“Any ideas on how you’re going to do that?” Kyleea asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Not the slightest.”
=^=
Even the darkness held questions. She felt uneasy, almost nervous, despite the entertaining, relaxing evening. Nothing had happened to upset her, there was no real reason for apprehension of any sort. And yet, sleep evaded her.
With a sigh, Kyleea pushed herself up out of bed, walking over to the portal of the quarter’s main living area, seeking some form of comfort from the stars. They seemed to reach out to her, somehow closer as she stood on this station. A ship cruised away, crossing her view, and her stomach dropped.
She was homesick. Not for her family living on Bajor VIII, but for the family and home she had created aboard the Roddenberry. Dax, Kira, Bashir… they were quickly becoming good friends, but they hardly knew anything about her. And she was not known for giving up such information freely. It had always been a matter of self-preservation, a form of ensuring her own safety: distance. Now here she was on some Cardassian-built space station with nothing but light years of that distance between herself and home.
It was something Diam had been good at as well. The symbiont’s history had been full of assignments, travel and life away from Trill, away from loved ones. Host and symbiont alike knew the benefits of staying detached from people, knew they would most likely be out of your life in the turn of a shallow breath. Diam was the only one that was always there, the only one that counted.
The sensation and reality of Joining had been documented many times, but for Kyleea there was little truth in any of it. Unlike most Joined Trills, her relationship with the Diam symbiont seemed much like all the others in her life: detached. Despite the ten other lifetimes that were now apart of her, Kyleea herself still felt very much as she had before Joining.
The truth – when she allowed herself to admit it – was that she was afraid of the symbiont, afraid to find out exactly how much of her might be left in the mix if she gave in fully to the Joining. Physically she was every part the Joined Trill, but mentally she had constructed a very high, very thick wall to maintain her own individual control in life. Sometimes I wonder why I was ever Joined in the first place.
“Computer, play the 6th symphony of Jalik Relor’s 2nd Concerto arrangement.”
Slowly music started to softly through the room, dropping gently through the silence. Kyleea leaned her head against the bulkhead, her eyes losing their focus on the stars in front of her as she was reminded of what had made her want to be Joined so badly in the first place.
“Mr. Liselle, I’m waiting for an answer.”
“3.689?”
“Is that your answer, Mr. Liselle, or have you now turned teacher?”
“I… 3.592?”
“Incorrect, Mr. Liselle. You did not account for the added stress on the integrity field. As a result, your ship has been destroyed.” A long pause filled the room. “I suggest you pick up a refresher course and try again next semester.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Dismissed, Cadet.”
She stopped halfway to the gym. Working out frustration tended to end with strained or pulled muscles and the Academy’s medical staff were starting to give her questioning looks and making extra notes in her file during her visits. The only question was… what else could she do?
“Kyle, wait up!”
“Spencer, why do you insist on calling me that?” It was their same argument, one that she did not feel like fueling today.
“Because that is what the first letters of your name spell, isn’t it?” He linked his arm in hers and pointed their direction.
“How about ‘Kyli’? From what I know of you, you’re up to the challenge of an extra syllable.” “Don’t think so. Now come on,” he added, tugging at her to move faster, “we’ll be late!”
Kyleea regarded her friend warily. Spencer Johannason was always on the move, always doing something, always on the edge of somebody’s peripheral radar.
“What now, Spence?”
“The Café’s having an open floor,” he answered excitedly, weaving through other, slower moving cadets.
“In the middle of the day like this? How do they get anyone to come, let alone perform?” She didn’t know how to tell him, but his enthusiasm was having exactly the opposite effect. The Café, loaded with cadets, was not where she wanted to go; she wanted to go to the gym or back to her quarters, anywhere she could go over what had happened.
“Plenty of cadets don’t have classes; besides, what’s the big deal if someone misses one of Old Sneezy’s classes?”
“Spence, I thought…”
“Look, you don’t tell nobody, I don’t tell nobody,” he said lightly. “Besides, you got out of JerHico’s class fast enough.”
“That’s because I was dismissed.”
Spencer stopped short and Kyleea barely avoided knocking him over at full stride. “Whoa… why?”
“I wasn’t certain of my answer.”
“Are you gonna go back? Tell me you’re gonna go back. I mean, come on, you’ve got a shot at being top dog for our class. You drop now and you’re screwed.”
“I don’t have to drop, Spence; JerHico dropped me himse…”
“Ignore JerHico,” Spencer said, moving them through the scattered people on the path again. “As long as you don’t officially drop, you’re still in. So study like hell tonight and go back tomorrow – but right now, let’s get to the Café, okay?”
Kyleea hesitated. Spence was so different when it came to the Academy, he would have had little problem pushing something completely out of his mind for the afternoon. But she knew herself, knew that this thing was going to eat at her all afternoon if she didn’t resolve it… the only thing to figure out was how could she study what she already knew?
“I just need to work out this problem, then I’ll join you.”
Spencer took a few steps before stopping himself. “Well… okay. God only knows you won’t have any fun till you do.” He flashed what had become his trademark – a quirky, knavish smile – and ran the rest of the way to the Café.
Checked, double-checked, and triple-checked. It still came up the same: 3.689.
She hadn’t made a mistake, hadn’t miscalculated. The only thing she had done was let herself be rushed by JerHico, let him unsettle her and shake her confidence. It was one of the most vital elements to being a Starfleet officer, the confidence in your decisions no matter if they turned out to be the right ones or not. The confidence, if the time came, to put the lives of others in your hands. It was also the one thing they couldn’t teach her.
Luna was rising in the night sky by the time she made her way to the Café. Everyone would be long gone by now, but she welcomed it. A quiet table watching the waves of the Bay, a warm hot chocolate in hand…
“Mind if I sit down?”
She looked up to the calm voice and was surprised to recognize the face that went with it. “Jalik Nerashi, what on Earth are you doing here?”
“Actually, it’s Jalik Relor now,” she said, patting her stomach as she sat down.
“Really? I’ve got to admit you were one of the last people I ever expected would try for Joining. How long?”
“About four months, which is not long by any means. I’m still adjusting to having memories of different lifetimes, but Kyli – you can’t imagine what it’s been like! All those random notes that were always floating around in my head… they’re songs now, as if someone took all those little skips and stumbles out of my way. I can hardly play fast enough to get them recorded.”
“Jaly, you’re up!”
Jalik looked over towards the performance area, nodding as she stood back up. “Oh, I’m going to be playing for about an hour. Stick around, would you? We’ve got a lot to catch up on.” She gave Kyleea’s hand a squeeze before rushing to take up her calhoden, a sweet sounding instrument that seemed to be a distant cousin to Terran bagpipes.
And in the hands of Relor, the instrument produced the most peaceful songs Kyleea had ever heard. The notes were strong and certain, proud and humble – everything Kyleea herself was trying to be. When the hour was up, Jalik was peppered with enough requests to keep her playing for three more.
Kyleea slipped out of the growing crowd and headed back to her quarters. If she was to prove to JerHico that she was more than competent enough to be an officer, she was going to have to work on more than just calculations. Then she could graduate. Then maybe, just maybe, she would be up to the challenge of entering the Initiate Program back on Trill.
Indeed, she rallied to finish third in her class at the Academy, managing the Zefram Cochrane Award in the process. JerHico, of course, attributed it all to his teaching.
And while it had been difficult to turn down those she had worked so hard to gain approval from, there had been no surprise or disappointment when the decision was made to return to Trill and enter the Initiate Program.
Except, perhaps, from Kyleea herself.
There she stood, at the entrance to the Symbiosis Commission, questioning every step that had taken her from Earth back to Trill. The assignment she had turned down, the life she had rallied into only to set aside while she pursued this…
Stop! You want to be Joined because you heard Jalik play and you know that she could never play like that before. Being Joined has helped her unlock who she is and standing out here doing nothing is never going to do that.
The sun was shining as Kyleea scanned the cityscape, squinting a bit as light reflected off some of the more recognizable landmark buildings. The heat was slowly seeping deep into her bones, making her shift uncomfortably as she contemplated her next move.
She was stalling. That she could not deny even to herself.
The door behind her opened and a plainly clad woman exited the building, her focus on the datapad she held. Still, one side glance and she would see Kyleea, ask her perhaps if she needed any help…
Inside, the building was dark at first but, as her eyes adjusted, Kyleea made out a small sign pointing the way to the Admissions Council. Her stomach turned – in anticipation? in fear? There was only one way to find out.
The music had stopped and her arm ached from where it had rested against the bulkhead. Ached as she stood in these dark Cardassian quarters.
“Computer, time.”
“0027 hours.”
Kyleea stifled a yawn as she stumbled to bed, remembering how glad she was to have walked through that door almost ten years ago.
=^=
“Computer, one male partner, 1.9 meters in height.”
The person… correction – projection appeared in front of her. She smiled nervously and then punched a few more instructions into her PADD. “Computer, add classroom setting and enable step instructions.
The scene around her morphed into a light airy studio, sunlight streaming in with a warm hardwood beneath her. Outlines of the footsteps shone on the floor in front of her programmed partner, and she took a deep breath as she stepped forward. Part of her didn’t want to be here, alone in a holosuite, when Dax had offered to teach her – but she refused to go in blindly and make a fool of herself in front of actual people.
Besides, she had looked over some of the routines that morning and the instructions seemed easy enough. Left foot, right foot, turn pivot, slide… or was it pivot, slide, turn? Kyleea looked up at her dancing partner and was glad that holographic feet felt no pain.
“Computer, end program.” She slumped to the floor as the scene changed back to the simple, mechanical, methodical logic of a holosuite. This she understood, this jumble of circuitry and algorithms was something she could master. Dancing… dancing was not.
It had started simple enough: a waltz. They had moved on quickly as her confidence buoyed, but this program was obviously not the best holosuite technology had to offer. The partner was precise and smooth, but rigid and boring. The steps … well, she lost track of them every time she tripped over her partner’s feet and the program failed to compensate.
She had changed settings, changed the appearance and height of her partner several times, trying to gain a better balance. In the end, the dips and turns, the spins and stops had done nothing for balance, had aggravated her shoulder, and created a new twinge in her back.
Quark’s was as quiet as she had seen it. There were still a fair amount of customers milling around, but even the Dabo wheel seemed to be churning out only an infrequent yell. The darkness of the establishment enveloped her and she stopped at a small table, just short of the brightness of the Promenade. Her lack of elegance on the dance floor had thrown her into a pensive mood, and she didn’t feel like having anything pull her out of it quite yet.
The Promenade seemed to be endlessly teeming with life. Vibrant slashes of color arrayed the area, hanging from the balcony or ceiling in front of shops and businesses. The energy transferred into the people walking by; some strolled calmly while others walked with determination, eager to get where they were headed. It reminded her yet again how different from a starship it could be.
Starships were places contained by duty, regulated by regimen and duty rosters. Limited by the number of decks and when the next spacedock would occur. And while no two days were ever exactly the same, it was certainly easy enough to fall into routine and expected deviations. Here, with new people circulating through everyday, you never knew quite what to expect.
Must be one hell of a time maintaining security. Her eyes flickered down the Promenade before she turned, easily catching on the sight of the Chief of Station Security making his rounds. A nervous energy started up in her again… only this time there was no sense of satisfaction to it.
She pushed up from the table abruptly before her feet rooted her in place, ignoring the chair as it skidded out from under her and clattered to the floor. This was all quickly becoming beyond her powers of explanation; all she knew was that she could not afford another encounter with Odo, not now, not today. A pair of Bolians skirted to the side as she rushed past them desperate to get down the stairs and escape.
Escape. Find a safe place. Kyleea tried to shake Janbur’s voice from her mind, clutching to the railing at the top of the stairs. A wave of dizziness came over her, forcing her to pause. Why this was happening now, she couldn’t put her finger on; the Balance had been intact since she had started the Askorzik, but something was still throwing it off.
Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Diam looked back to see Odo chewing up the distance with longer strides to make sense of the commotion. The breath caught in her throat and she moved down the stairs, ducking her head away to avoid eye contact.
But the combination of dance lessons that day with springball the past two had only served to reacquaint the Trill with muscles long forgotten by the science officer part of her. A cramp started high and inside, traveling the length of her leg and tripping up her feet as she raced down the stairs.
Her arms stretched forward as she fell, grasping for anything to brace against or slow her fall. But everything twisted away just out of reach. She felt the small of her back connect with the edge of a step as she skidded down like a rag doll, coming to stop just short of the floor.
Quark’s had never been so silent.
Kyleea slowly tried to pull herself up, but the movement set her in motion the last half meter, slamming her shoulders into the floor. She didn’t want to know if anyone had seen her fall. As if anyone within a parsec could have missed it.
She hissed at the pain that shot through her shoulder and tried to ignore the group of people starting to stare.
“Hang on there, Commander. That’s no light fall you’ve had.” It was Julian’s voice, sotto and near by. She felt a pair of arms help her to her feet, and she braced herself against him.
“Really? I hadn’t noticed, Lieutenant.” Diam scanned Quark’s, but there was no sign of Odo or anyone else within ear’s shot. She felt Julian tense at the rebuttal and was about to apologize when another voice cut in.
“My dear, you really should be more careful. A spill like that can be quite detrimental to your wardrobe.”
“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind, Mr. Garak,” she said, looking over at the Cardassian standing beside them. Had he overheard Julian? Somehow, the thought of Garak knowing was not so ominous; he seemed to already be a man practiced at keeping secrets.
“I’m not sure I want to know how the two of you know each other,” Julian said, glancing between them. “Well, come on then, let’s get you to the Infirmary and assess the damage.”
“Slowly, Julian. Slowly.” Kyleea gracelessly hobbled out of Quark’s, clutching his arm.
And never noticed the determined, pensive look of the Changeling coming silently down the stairs after them.
=^=