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The runabout is quiet, but comfortably so. The engines hum, low and throbbing, but they are so constant that they are almost unnoticed. Jadzia leans over in her chair and keys in coordinates, pushing her seat backwards to check the navigational array. Beside her, Kira is curled up on a standard-issue cot; her breathing is slow and steady, and Dax is going through her routines just a little bit slower than usual, in an attempt not to wake up her sleeping friend. Jadzia frowns at the monitor - there's an anomaly of some kind up ahead. She halts the runabout, and the hum of the engine shifts to a whine. Kira stirs, just a little, her breath jolting as she shifts in her sleep.
Kira is beautiful in the dim light of the runabout, Jadzia thinks. Her hair is ruffled, ever so slightly, and her face is perhaps the most tranquil it’s been since she first transferred to the station. Jadzia stares at the sleeping woman for just a beat too long, contemplating the arc of the Bajoran nose as a faint blush spreads over her cheeks, the tips of her ears. She's lost in thought when the console beeps, and she turns back to the viewscreen, biting her cheek and silently cursing herself for getting distracted. There is the anomaly, up ahead, and it is much more incongruent than it ought to have been. It is a planet where there should be empty space. There is no sun, no other planets in the vicinity, but there is a single, lonely planet. Jadzia scans the surface, nose wrinkling as she notes the familiar concentrations of elements. She reluctantly reaches a hand over to shake Kira awake. Kira’s eyes fly open, panic crossing her face for the briefest moment, and then she blinks a few times, sitting up as her eyes adjust to the harsh light of the runabout.
“Where are we?”
Her words are slurred, just a little, and Dax laughs, raising her eyebrows.
“We’re in the Gamma Quadrant, remember? Delivering supplies to the Tellarians?”
She points at the screen, flourishing for dramatic effect.
“And that, my friend, is a planet that seems to have gone rogue.”
Kira frowns, considering the planet. “Looks kind of like Bajor. It could be from another dimension, or maybe it was under some kind of cloak, or maybe our sensors couldn’t read it?” She yawns, swinging her legs over the edge of the cot, and walks over to the replicator - perhaps ‘stumbles’ would be a better synonym - leaning against the wall as she orders a raktajino. The machine whirrs to life, and the coffee materializes. Kira rapidly picks up the mug, blowing on the coffee to cool it down. Jadzia watches, smiling at the way Kira puffs out her cheeks. It’s familiar, endearing, even. It makes her heart swell, not that she’d admit it. She'd be perfectly content to stay here forever, in this moment, watching one of her closest friends burn her tongue on a scalding hot drink.
“You gonna beam down?”
Kira’s voice interrupts the string of thoughts racing around Dax’s head; the Trill quickly wipes the smile from her face, chewing on her lip in a way that she hopes looks thoughtful and not thirsty.
“It could be dangerous.” She ponders for a beat longer. “Although, when has that ever stopped me in the past?”
This time, Kira is the one to smile. “I’ll come with you,” she says. “Don’t want you running off with any more random citizens.”
It’s a joke, of course - a dig at Jadzia’s habit of romancing any alien she can find - but somehow, it feels a bit more meaningful, perhaps a touch of….jealousy? Jadzia internally smacks herself. She’s projecting again. She gives her head an imperceptible shake, as if to rid it of the rapturous blush she can feel creeping across her cheeks again. She turns her head in a movement she's hoping looks natural and waggles her eyebrows at Kira.
“Well, as long as you’re with me, how could I possibly do such a ridiculous thing?”
Her mouth quirks into a smile as she delivers the line. She knows that Kira can hear the jest in her voice; she can only hope that she’s not broadcasting anything more personal in her tone. It's a friendly rapport, banter, says the voice in the back of her head. Nothing more. But Kira laughs, a real laugh, and Jadzia’s heart beats just a little bit faster. She quickly turns away and begins pressing buttons on the control panel, guiding their runabout to safety, programming it to tell the Captain where they are, checking the atmosphere and the coordinates and the power they’ll need to make it to the planet’s surface. It's not unwarranted - it's protocol, and it's a necessary step before they transport to a foreign planet. But still, the timing is just a touch off, and it's clear that she's using the console as an excuse to hide her face. She steps back, giving the screen another once-over, before stepping onto the transporter pad. Kira hops up next to her, sighing reluctantly as she puts her coffee back into the replicator. Dax is the one to give the command, her voice suddenly loud in the near-silence of the runabout.
“Two to beam down.”
They flicker out of existence.
Somewhere, on the planet below them, they shimmer into creation, born anew of atoms and molecules and sudden desert heat. They blink, the two of them, in the harsh light. There shouldn’t be such brightness, Jadzia thinks confusedly, because there is no star; but it doesn’t seem important, not right now. Kira’s hand flies up to her forehead, trying and failing in shielding her eyes, while Dax simply squints into the sun, her brow wrinkling. She is genetically predisposed to adapt quickly to the bright conditions, she supposes, and it is only a few seconds before her eyes adjust. And then - she is not quite sure if they have in fact adjusted, because she is staring out at the city in front of them, a metropolis of impossible size that seems to go on for forever. Rounded buildings and tall spires and houses built into hills are covering every inch of land in view. They are on a hill, and as Jadzia turns her head, she takes in the city upon city upon city that spreads over the horizon. It seems impossible.
A moment later, she hears Kira gasp as she finally begins to take in the landscape before her. She spins, slowly, eyes wandering over the jumble of metal and stone and unidentifiable building material. She is smiling, faintly, and Jadzia has to do everything in her power to keep from staring, because in the daylight, the Major’s hair is golden and radiant and soft, and it frames her face in something that is almost a halo. She looks like an angel, and for some reason, there are tears forming in her eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks, and her hands go up to her chest. Dax doesn’t understand the emotions spreading over the Bajoran's face, until she hears Kira whisper, softly, “It’s home.” And then she remembers, all in a rush, that this is what Bajor looked like, before the occupation and the strip mining, before the slave camps, before it was left a hollow shell. Kira is sobbing now, quietly, hands clutched to her chest, her face an inscrutable blend of joy and loss, and Jadzia doesn’t know what to do. Seven lifetimes, and she has no idea what to say. So she doesn’t say anything. She puts a hand out, tentatively, and rests it on Kira’s arm, and Kira smiles at her, angelic, beautiful, and her face is streaked with tears but she’s beaming, the happiest that perhaps she’s ever been. The sun is bright, but her smile is brighter, and she throws herself forward, pulling Jadzia into a hug. They stand there, holding tight to each other, and the galaxy seems to slow around them.
They pull apart, after a long, hesitant moment, and then they look at each other. Both of them are golden in the light, the joy, they are transcendent and Kira reaches up a hand to Dax’s cheek to wipe away tears that Jadzia hadn’t realized that she had been crying.
“Kira. Nerys. I—”
“I know,” Kira whispers, and as Jadzia stares into the eyes of the woman she cares about more than anything else in the quadrant she finds them staring back, damp with tears, glistening in the light, and she understands everything.
"You're beautiful," says Jadzia, the words falling from her lips without her even needing to think them. It's the truth. It's always been the truth. "You're so beautiful."
Kira smiles, covering her mouth with one hand, embarrassed at the compliment, and if Jadzia didn't know better she'd think the woman was giggling.
"Thank you," she breathes. "You're beautiful too. You've always been so, so beautiful."
And then Kira leans in, and Jadzia's heart is racing, and they meet in the middle, their lips saying everything that their voices could not. It's soft at first, tentative, and Jadzia isn't quite sure whether the giddiness is Kira's or her own. This isn’t how she had imagined their first kiss, not at all, but it’s perfect, and as she traces the outline of Kira’s cheek with the tips of her fingers she knows that this moment will stay with her always, no matter how many lives will come after this, because she has never felt more in love in any of her many lives.