Chapter Text
His warmth envelopes you, wrapping around your consciousness like silk; soft and warm, yet binding. His voice, smooth yet gravel-edged like a stone polished by water over time, echoed in your mind, even when you weren’t aware you were still listening. You clung to it subconsciously, helplessly, as though it were a lifeline and not a leash.
The cups sat on the table, empty, forgotten. The dim light cascading over the porcelain. Outside the window, the stars hung motionless in the velvet void. Somewhere, one of those dots was Earth. But not your Earth. Not the one you knew
You tried to ground yourself, to claw out of the mental ravine you were slipping into—but everything around you whispered ‘you don’t belong’. The stark minimalism of Cardassian architecture, brutal in its symmetry. The chilling quietness of the ship. The continuous hum of alien technology. And him… his silhouette impossible to ignore, not quite right in your mind’s eye. His ridged features, reptilian calm… familiar now, yes, but still foreign. Still alien.
But wasn’t it you who was out of place?
You hardly heard him at first. your own mind louder than his voice.
“Hm?” you murmured, blinking slowly, pulled halfway back to reality. Your body still felt heavy from your emotional collapse earlier, and the hour was well past late, relative to your body clock.
“I said, you look tired,” he repeated, softer this time, like velvet. “You should rest.”
You nodded numbly, your limbs slow, your spirit slower. “Yeah… I should probably get back to my room. Don’t want to take too much of your important time…” You tried for a polite smile, but it barely reached your eyes. Your mind still churned with questions about the three missing centuries, but they’d have to wait.
“Nonsense.” His tone was lightly chiding. “You’ve told me how much you dislike that room. You deserve comfort after everything you’ve endured.”
Your lips parted to protest, but he was already standing, already making the decision for you in that caretaker way that left little room for debate but not with cruelty.
“So I’ll stay…?” You said a bit confused on an alternative.
“Yes,” he interjected smoothly, almost like he’d rehearsed it. “You’ll be staying in my quarters. If, of course, you’re comfortable with that?”
You hesitated. But he was the only familiarity you had in this strange chapter of your life. The idea of returning to your quarters—sterile, cold, and filled with the haunting nothingness of a place that never knew you—was unbearable. His quarters, for all their alien geometry, had been shaped by him. They had… warmth. Like one of those 80’s penthouse suites. Tasteful, brooding, filled with the low glow of lights that never fully illuminated the shadows. Like a cool breeze on a warm summer night.
He smiled with that disarming gentleness. “Do not fret, dear. I will take the couch. You may have the bed.”
You blinked. “Are you sure? I mean-”
“You are my guest. You are…” He paused, tilting his head. “Important.”
And that was that.
The black silk sheets were soft, heavy with the scent of him—clean, faintly spiced, like old paper and something metallic. It felt like you were intruding, curling into a space that wasn’t yours. But his voice and presence lingered like incense, inviting you to sink in. The mattress was firm but welcoming, warmed by electric blankets, a quiet heat that reminded you of terrariums and basking reptiles.
You drifted near instantly, sleep came quickly.
Then came the nightmare, the same nightmare you had earlier that day that brought you to his quarters.
It started as a whimper in the dark, then bloomed into something consuming—faces of the dead, voices of the past, the crushing weight of time. centuries between you and the world you once loved. You couldn’t go back. There was no ‘home’ left for you to come back to. Truly and utterly alone.
You shot awake, gasping.
The room was still. Dim. His presence—gentle, but firm. A cool hand on your shoulder. Your wild eyes met his.
“Are you alright…?” Dukat's voice was low, urgent but laced with something else, something sincere. Concern. Those piercing blue eyes searched yours. His ridged brow furrowed, even a small frown.
Your body betrayed you before your mind could react. You reached for him. You needed something. Needed someone. Your forehead pressed against his chest—cool and smooth like marble. A silent, broken sob escaped you, but you couldn’t summon the strength to weep again. Not fully. Not now.
He didn’t pull away. His arm slipped around you, a careful cradling. Not possessive. Protective. Accepting you into his hold immediately
“I’m fine,” you lied, breath hitching. “Just… a dream.”
Neither of you moved to let go. His presence, his cold blood, his textured skin, his silence everything was beautifully silent
“I’m here,” he said softly.
And then he moved, with slow, deliberate grace, his limbs sliding away from your body. You almost miss the coolness of his warmth. But he is climbing under the covers beside you. Not touching yet, not truly—but close enough. A quiet presence nothing too intimate. Just enough to say you are safe. His sheer size compared to an average or even above average human was still immense, and that radiated a sense of security.
You exchanged a few weak sentences, he picked it up to make you feel better, a few half-hearted jabs at each other, broken laughter seeping through. “I see you are really enjoying my bed, you went out like a light when you hit the pillow. Though I never knew that humans made so many small noises in their sleep. You’re even noisy while you sleep.” He chuckled low and amused. His hands behind his head against the headboard. You didn’t know what you’d said in return, a small jab at his Cardassian physique maybe but it felt real to talk to him.
Drifting again, in and out of conversation. You fell asleep again, this time a-lot more relaxed with his presence by your side.
your breath steadying, body still curled slightly toward him, though a respectful distance remained between you. He closed his eyes aswell, as he got comfortable.
But peace is never permanent.
Not long after, he felt a subtle shift in your breathing. faint tension in your limbs. Even in slumber, your body was betraying you again, caught in the unseen grip of another nightmare.
A quiet whimper escaped your lips.
Dukat froze, his eyes opening in the dimness, instantly alert. He could feel your distress like static in the air between you. Even in this quiet, cloistered space, with all his calculated calm, it struck him with an unfamiliar urgency.
You twitched again, brow furrowing, your mouth murmuring sounds that had no shape but were full of ache. Then, without waking, your body moved.
You turned fully into him.
Not halfway. Not hesitantly.
You pressed into his chest with unconscious desperation, curling into his cool torso like a fox burrowing into a hole for warmth. Searching for a heartbeat in the dark. Your fingers found the fabric of his black silk robe he still had on and clutched—lightly, instinctively. Seeking an anchor. His arms wrapped around your frame with the precision of someone who had once held power over empires—but now held something softer, more fragile.
And then… you relaxed.
Like a leaf sinking gently to the bottom of a quiet stream.
Your muscles softened. Your breathing evened. A soft exhale escaped you, warm against his skin. A sound of surrender. Trust.
Dukat watched you.
the weight of the moment falling on him with a silent, terrible beauty.
He felt he had been blessed by your arrival. An easy challenge. A change of pace. Someone real. Albeit human.
In this dim-lit room, surrounded by the cold vacuum of space and centuries that divided your worlds, he felt something crack inside his chest. Not shatter—just a fracture. Subtle. Dangerous.
You didn’t know what he’d done. What he was. What he was capable of
But you had chosen him. Or more specifically, the universe chose him for you and graciously lead you to him. Still, even in close contact, and getting to know him. You chose him.
Or rather, your brokenness had.
Still… that was enough. You were more than enough
He lowered his head slowly, almost reverently, until his chin brushed against your hair—soft, slightly messy, still carrying the faintest scent of you, something so human. His breath caught for half a moment. He hadn’t meant to get this close. Not truly. Not like this. Not yet. But now that he was here, he couldn’t pull away.
His arms drew you in more tightly, one hand splayed across your back, the other cradling your shoulder with the kind of gentleness that felt foreign to him, practiced only in theory, in half-remembered tenderness. But with you, it felt instinctive. Necessary. You didn’t stir—maybe asleep, or simply trusting enough not to tense, not to flinch. He exhaled into the stillness between you, letting your warmth slowly radiate through him like sunlight breaking over frost.
He hadn’t realized how cold he was until now.
Not the cold of skin of his scales—but the deeper, marrow-deep kind. The kind that settles in over years, in long hallways of sterile command rooms and colder choices. The kind that comes from silence after battles, from the echo of footfalls down corridors when there's no one waiting at the end. That was the cold he’d grown used to. The kind he’d convinced himself he didn’t feel anymore.
But you—fragile, infuriatingly inquisitive you—brought heat into that void. Into him.
It soaked into his bones with alarming gentleness, like a balm he hadn't asked for but couldn’t turn away from. He could feel your heart, steady against his chest. Your breath, warm against his exposed collar. Your very presence seemed to whisper that maybe, just for this moment, he didn’t have to be on guard. Maybe he could be just a man—not a soldier, not a symbol, not the architect of Cardassia’s survival.
His hand shifted slightly, fingertips grazing your spine with barely-there pressure, as though grounding himself in the proof that you were real. That you were here. He could feel something unraveling inside him—quietly, gently. A pressure he hadn’t even known he’d been holding all this time.
You made him feel... undone. And he wasn't sure if it terrified him or healed him.
So he stayed like that, unmoving, selfishly gathering every ounce of warmth your body offered, memorizing it, soaking it in as though it could protect him from the inevitable chill of whatever would come next.
Because deep down, he knew: this kind of warmth never lasted.
And yet—he held on anyway.
His thoughts came in a whisper, not quite words. Not yet.
‘You trust too easily. Though, that is a very rare quality to have… a quality I enjoy in you. Forgive me for my bluntness but your vulnerability is pulling me to you…’ his internal voice addressed you
he was eternally grateful that he hadn’t needed to manipulate you much at all. You were open—unguarded in your grief, raw in your honesty. So real. You were untouched by the politics and history that shadowed his name. And you gave him something no one else had in years.
A genuine want, a need for him
‘It seemed to me that no one would be this comfortable without a little… persuasion… and yet here you are. Sleeping peacefully in a ‘monsters’ arms…’ quoting the words countless of people have called him
’If you ever knew the truth—‘
‘Would you still hold me like this?’
He didn’t dare move. Even to breathe felt sacrilegious.
But something inside him, buried under years of performance and pride, ached at the thought of hurting you. Of losing this.
This warmth.
This fragile, beautiful illusion.
The universe swore he didn’t deserve it.
But gods, he wanted it.
No. He needed it. He did deserve it.
‘I deserve this’
His hand moved slowly—gentle fingers brushing your back. Steady. Like the sweep of a lighthouse light in the fog. His body adjusted, curling slightly around yours, shielding you from a world that had already taken too much. Even if you had just arrived in it.
His eyes remained open, watching the shadows shift on the sheets. And still, he whispered it in his mind, again and again.
‘I deserve this. You deserve this’
He believed it to be true, but maybe if he said it enough, it would actually become true.
He didn’t lie when he said he would take care of everything. He would protect you. Because you believed in him.
Because you needed him.
Because… he needed you too.
'Perhaps...' he thought, 'this is what salvation feels like…'
The hours passed you woke slowly, your senses coming back in fragments—first to the soft hush of recycled air, the distant, ever-present thrum of the ship’s engines vibrating gently beneath the floor. Then to the coolness of the silk sheets draped around you, and the subtle, unnerving realization that he was no longer beside you.
The space where Dukat had been was cold now.
Your hand drifted to the spot, your fingertips brushing against the indentation in the mattress left by his form. The scent of him still lingered—paper, spice, a faint, clean metal tang. You closed your eyes for a moment, inhaling, grounding yourself in it. The only thing the stabilises your jumbled mind, in any emotional comfort. You felt like you were getting attached too easily. But who else was there for you? But you seriously had to get your head on right you told yourself.
The dream was gone, but the ache remained.
You sat up slowly. The room was as you remembered—dim, warm, the walls bathed in amber light that never quite reached the corners. You could still see traces of him: a folded robe on the chair, a half-full glass on the bedside table, and at the foot of the bed, a low table had been rolled in, holding a tray with covered dishes and a slim, rectangular datapad resting against a folded napkin.
The note was displayed in your native tongue elegantly translated from Cardassian:
“I was called to attend to ship matters. Eat before it gets cold. I had the kitchen prepare something more suited to your human palate. My officer Damar will escort you. He’s blunt, but you’ll be safe. – Dukat.”
You stared at the note for a long moment. “Damar,” you muttered. You vaguely remembered the name from one of Dukat’s earlier interactions when you were being escorted through the corridors, but you were too disoriented to remember. He was one of the Cardassians with the suspicious eyes.
A sharp chime interrupted your thoughts.
The door slid open with an efficient hiss before you could answer.
The man who entered was tall though shorter than Dukat and less lean (from all that alcohol), dressed in the standard Cardassian military uniform, his ridged neck, rectangular face and sharp cheekbones. Casting shadows under the sterile corridor lights behind him.
“Human,” he said flatly.
You blinked. “I… good morning?”
Damar didn’t move. He looked at you like one might look at a puzzle with a missing piece. Distain and distrust is more like it
“Dukat instructed me to accompany you during your… tour of the ship.”
“Tour?”
“You’ve been confined to quarters long enough.” His voice held a hint of sarcasm. “He thought you’d appreciate the gesture. Though I’m not convinced.”
You glanced at the untouched breakfast. The tray was heavy with some kind of egg-like protein dish, delicately crisped, and a bowl of dark, roasted roots that smelled faintly of smoked tea and fennel. A hunk of dark bread, too. You weren’t sure how hungry you were, but you ate anyway.
Damar stood silently by the door, practically scoffing every few seconds, quite impatiently, arms crossed, as you finished in silence.
The corridors of the ship were long and quiet, broken only by the distant hiss of doors sliding open and closed, clicking of boots and hum of the internal systems. Cardassians you passed gave you sidelong glances—some confused, others suspicious, and a few openly hostile. No one greeted you.
You kept your gaze low, but you felt every stare like a needle in your spine.
“Do they all think I’m a threat?” you asked finally, stupid question you already knew the answer.
Damar didn’t answer right away.
“You’re a human with no documentation, no history, and no explanation. That somehow ended up in Cardassian space in a Starfleet vessel”
“So… yes.”
He didn’t deny it. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy that liked talking to people he didn’t trust.
Continuing the tour, Damar, having a schedule like the rest of the crew, gets hungry. Which leads you two to going to the mess hall. You know you wouldn’t eat. But seeing food might help the anxious gnaw in your stomach.
The mess hall was a cold, metallic place—high ceilings, harsh lighting, long rows of tables bolted to the floor. It was less a place for comfort and more for fueling the machine.
When you walked in, the entire room slowed. Forks paused halfway to mouths. Conversations dipped in volume.
You sat quietly, Damar beside you like a silent wall.
But walls don’t stop whispers.
“Why is it here?”
“They have been chatting up our Gul. Probably another comfort toy.”
“Federation spy.”
They didn’t bother to hide their voices, and Damar didn’t bother to hide how much he hated this assignment. Sitting far away as possible at the table you were both seated, turning his body away from you. One officer stood and approached. Two others followed.
“Got yourself a pet now, Damar?” he sneered. “Or did Dukat forget which side he’s on?”
Damar’s hand moved toward his hip slowly, deliberately. “Walk away, Rel.”
But Rel wasn’t interested in Damar. He looked at you. “You’re real quiet. Spies usually are. Just here to watch? Gather intel? Seduce the Gul with that human body of yours?”
You stiffened. “I’m not—”
The tray in front of you clattered violently to the floor as Rel knocked it aside. Luckily the tray was empty.
Your hands clenched.
“I said,” Damar stepping forward now, spoke “walk away.”
The other two crew members behind Rel began to corner both of you. Rel gets in Damars face. The others nearly get their hands on you
Before Rel could speak—before the situation could turn—
“Enough.”
Dukat’s voice rang like a thunderclap through the room.
He strode into the hall, flanked by two guards, but he didn’t need them. The sheer authority in his voice brought the entire mess to a halt.
He didn’t yell. He didn’t need to. But it definitely was a loud booming voice.
His eyes landed on Rel, and for a moment, you thought the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.
“You shame this uniform,” Dukat said quietly. “You shame me. You will report for discipline. And you—” his gaze swept across the watching crowd, “—will remember who I am, and what it means when someone bears my protection.”
Silence.
“Dismissed.”
The mess hall emptied swiftly. Damar didn’t speak, but he gave Dukat a curt nod and you a blank glance before following the others out.
Dukat’s expression softened as he turned back to you. “I will throughly discipline them. You shouldn’t have had to endure that.”
“I didn’t say anything,” you whispered. “I didn’t do anything—”
“I know, I know… You don’t have to,” he said gently placing hand on your shoulder. “Sometimes, being seen is threat enough.”
Later back in his quarters
You had found out how to use a sonic shower, which was actually quite nice as it got all the dirt and sweat from small crevices. You felt rejuvenated, you needed that.
You sat on the couch again like the night before, staring a bit blankly at the cup of tea in-front of you while Dukat moved around in the quarters.
The atmosphere had changed from the near scuff in the mess hall earlier. He’d dimmed the lights and traded his uniform for something simpler—still dark, but comfortable and relaxed. He looked… at ease. Though there was a twitch in his face when he thought about what happened in the mess hall.
He was preparing a meal carefully for you two. Looking up to watch him set it up. Him in a sweater was… domestic.
You sipped from your cup, fingers idly tracing the rim as you stared into the rippling liquid.
"You were telling me about Humans last night before I..." Your voice trailed off. You didn’t want to say broke down hysterically—that kind of vulnerability sat uncomfortably on your tongue.
Dukat gave a slow, understanding nod, his voice smooth and velvety, like polished obsidian. “Yes. We were discussing your species... adventurous nature.”
You tilted your head, brow furrowing faintly. “And you said our people never really got along, did they?”
He exhaled through his nose in something like a sigh, his movements elegant and practiced as he pauses while setting things down. “You have to understand, dear… we Cardassians value structure. Privacy. Discipline. Humans, for all their charm, are—how do I put this delicately—relentlessly curious.” His ridged fingers gestured with a graceful flick.
“It’s not ill-intentioned, but they tend to push themselves into places they weren’t invited. Borders, governments, even personal lives.”
Your ears perked up slightly, eyes following the way his long tail shifted behind him as he moved—more expressive than you'd expect.
“I didn’t realize we came across that way,” you murmured. “I mean… humans back in my time liked to learn. To connect.”
“And that,” Dukat said warmly, “is precisely where the misunderstandings begin. Cardassians… we value stability above all else. Your people, however, they thrive in disruption. It’s not malicious, of course. Merely... naive.”
You nodded slowly, watching the way he spoke, how his eyes softened when he looked at you. You didn’t hear the lie in his words. Why would you?
“And we just... kept bothering you?”
“Endlessly,” he said, with a soft sigh, turning to glance out a nearby viewport as if recalling painful memories. “Always asking questions. Demanding explanations. Interfering. They couldn’t help themselves. Curious species, as I said. Endearing, in its own way.”
You bit your lip. “I guess we’re a little nosy…”
He turned back to you, eyes softening. “You’re inquisitive. There’s a difference. And it’s not always a bad thing. It’s how your species evolved, isn’t it? Us Cardassians are just… better in some aspects.”
“Yeah... always poking at things.” You hesitated, then asked, “So, we started all the wars?”
He smiled, just enough to soften the blow. “No, not all. But many could have been avoided if your people had listened. We tried to warn them, you know. Many times. But they always wanted more. Answers. Access. Rights to places they didn’t understand.”
Dukat’s expression turned just the slightest bit wistful, as though you’d touched something deeper in him. “Some do understand. Individuals. They try. But your kind... you have a need to understand, even if it means tearing things open to see what’s inside. Curiosity can be a beautiful thing—when it’s controlled.”
You hesitated before speaking again. “But... what about Cardassians? What are you curious about?”
That made him smile again, broader this time, with something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “Oh, we’re definitely curious,” he said. “But we ask different questions. We study patterns. History. Loyalty. We want to understand how things function, how order is maintained. Your people want to know why something breathes. We want to know how to keep it breathing… efficiently.”
That didn’t sound entirely comforting, but it fascinated you.
“Though, personally… I’m curious about you. You give me a sense of fulfilment that I’m helping. I can’t help but wonder what else you can make me feel…”
You felt your face heat up. Gulping down a throat of tea. Damn it he was smooth with it. You didn’t know aliens would be this charming. Maybe Cardassians are better at some things than Humans.
(Lord I’m bricked up)
He smirked. Devilishly, a short chuckle from his lips and with that— he sipped from his own glass on the dinner table, the conversation hanging delicately in the air between you, like a thread stretched taut between two opposing stars.
Clearing your throat, forcing yourself to make no kind of eye contact. But you could feel that cat eyed gaze on you.
“Tell me more about Cardassian customs…” you spoke finally.
He smiled faintly, touched by your curiosity for his people once again. “We place high value on routine. Hierarchy. Ritual. A shared meal, for example, is not just food—it’s an acknowledgment of mutual trust. Sleeping quarters are private, sacred. To share them is…” He trailed off, searching for the right word. “Significant.”
You raised an eyebrow. “So I’ve been… significant…?”
“More than I expected.” He chuckled quietly.
Coming over to you after finally setting everything down on the dinner table. Guiding you to the table and pulling your chair out for you.
Sitting down and picking up the cutlery that looked closest to a fork you hovered it over your plate. “Why me? I mean, I kind of feel like I'm leeching off you for help. And people still think I’m a spy—“
He didn’t hesitate to cut you off. “Because you’re real. Unshaped by this world. Untouched by propaganda. You’re not an officer. Not a pawn. You are… yourself. It’s rare. And it’s precious.”
You felt the words settle in your chest, warm and heavy.
The dinner continued.
“And you?” you asked, voice softer now. “What were you before all this?”
He looked at you, really looked.
“A man who made choices,” he said. “Some I believed were for the good of Cardassia. Some… for myself. I’ve worn many titles. Not all of them honorable.”
“But now?”
He leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Now, I am something else. Because you are here.”
Another involuntary blush across your face
"And who do you want to be now...? Not to rush—Have you thought about what you want in this future?"
You swallowed hard. “I don't know, there's really no one left.”
He looked at you with something unspoken in his eyes.
“You have me.”