Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ben couldn’t believe it. Not 2 weeks after they’d taken back the station and already he was leaving for a survey trip. He supposed it made sense, given someone had to check the wreckage of the mines put up by Rom, and Dax had been angling for a chance to investigate any changes in the Wormhole’s energy readings, but it still felt odd to be going. He kept tossing his baseball back and forth in his hands as he waited for O’Brien to say the defiant was ready enough that he could come on board. Even if they hadn’t seen any activity from the dominion in the past two weeks it still felt as though the instant he left the Dominion would try and take the station from him again. It was bad enough going down to Bajor.

Even so, surveys had to be completed, and scientific curiosities sated. Sisko boarded the ship that had been his home for months, hoping against hope that this wasn’t the start of another bloody and grueling span of time. He would be half right.

Soon after he sat down in his chair, Dax came by with a knowing yet sympathetic smile on her face.

“Feels weird to come back here, doesn’t it, Benjamin?” She gently squeezed his shoulder with her hand.

“More than you know, old man.” Sisko shot back the retort, even voice giving away nothing of his nerves. He didn’t need to. Jadzia already knew they were there. She gave another squeeze and then sauntered to her station.

“Well, it’ll only be a little while. And we won’t have to put up with with Garak’s whining this time, a definite plus.” She punctuated this last remark with a cheeky grin and a turn in her chair to face the screen. Nearby, Ensign Nog giggled almost imperceptibly. Despite not facing Worf, Sisko could swear the Klingon cracked up as well.

“Small victories.” Despite himself, Sisko, too, couldn’t help but joke along.

The mission began, for the most part, normal. They collected spare parts of the mines to be studied in case they ever needed to implement that strategy again. They gave the wormhole as wide a berth as they could for the first half, but as they finished with the mines (going by the helpful instruction set given by Rom), they began to inch ever closer. Nothing much of anything happened until, suddenly, a fairly persistent beeping erupted from Dax’s console.

“What is it Lieutenant-Commander?”

“Sensors are reading a massive flux of Gamma Radiation from off the port bow, Captain.” The jokey-fun Dax had melted away to calm, scientific Jadzia, entirely focused on her monitor. “It seems as though there’s an object just floating at the tail edge of the wormhole producing it.”
“What kind of object?”

“Unsure as of yet captain.”

“On screen.” With that, the monitor centered in on a small pod. Or, what Sisko thought to be a pod. From this distance it could have been machine, organic, or even a large splotch on their sensors. The object was pitch black, but flecked with ribbons of green, red, and blue. It looked about the size of a human. At closer inspection, it was almost cocoon shaped.

“Any further data, Dax?”

“The object doesn’t match any registered material, Captain. What’s more, preliminary scans show it to be some kind of liquid.” Dax’s words were quiet, half spoken to herself as if in a trance. To be fair, Sisko himself felt a little entranced by the object, with the shimmering lights coming out of an inky black, shifting constantly as if alive.

“Interesting.” Sisko muttered.

“Captain. I’m reading a life sign coming from the object. Human. Very faint.” That broke the trance. Someone was inside that thing?

“What?”

“Someone must be within the black material. Suggest we pull the pod in with a tractor beam?”

“By all means.”

And so Ben began a whole new line of anxious fiddling. Even in wartime, he was a curious explorer at heart like the rest of his crew. And besides, the gelatinous substance did remind him of the pooled consciousness of the Great Link, so he could justify this as recon. But above all he wanted to know what kind of human - if that really was a human - could be inside that cocoon. As soon as he got O’Brien’s confirmation that the pod was safely aboard, he gave Worf the helm and all but dashed to the decompression chamber, where Julian was already observing the pod.
Or, what was left of it at least. It seemed that once the environmental controls turned on, and the gravity brought the pod down to surface, it had melted away to a puddle on the floor, the human concealed within now revealed. He was a rather lengthy man, pale, aged around 50 or so, vaguely handsome, salt and pepper hair, in a suit styled to the tastes of the 20th-21st centuries.

“Status, Doctor?”

“He’s still alive, but unconscious. His metabolic and heart rates have vastly slowed, as if he were in some kind of stasis coma. The liquid has lost the luster reported before we brought it in, but seems incredibly dense from what I can tell.”

“Is there any way we can wake him up, find out what he was doing out here?”

“I can most likely bring his vitals up with a stimulant but I would prefer not to until we’re in a more controlled environment where I can better monitor his condition.”

“Fine. He remains asleep, for now. Bring him to the sickbay until we can get back to the station. Have someone collect the remaining liquid, as well, and run as many scans on it as you can. I want to know what that is as soon as possible.”

“Understood, sir.”

“We’re about done with the survey for now, so we should be back at the station within the hour. Have him ready to wake up by then.”

“Yes, sir.” Bashir blanched a little at this, but made no comment. Sisko didn’t dislike the doctor, but they had clashed on this in the past. He supposed it was unfair to expect of medical officers the same ‘if it takes 8 hours, do it in 5’ attitude as engineering officers, but often in these situations it was hard to be patient, and Bashir’s...thoroughness could be a frustration.

--

A little less than an hour later, he stepped back onto the station once again, closely following a biobed brought for the unconscious man. This morning, Sisko thought returning to the station would be the end of his anxiety for the day, but now he was buzzing with a whole new anxious energy. So many questions had to be answered but he knew if he asked them too fast he’d be left just as misinformed. Of course, none of this showed beyond a slightly elevated level of brusqueness with the crew, especially Bashir.

Finally, after a strenuous ten minutes, the man was hooked up to an adequate number of monitors and able to be injected with a stimulant. His storm grey eyes fluttered open, and he groggily looked around the room.

“You’re not...Merle…” he mumbled confusedly at Sisko. The bleary eyed expression on this man seemed both endearing and somehow instinctually wrong on some basic level that Ben couldn’t place.

“No. My name is Benjamin Sisko.” Though thrumming with energy, Sisko did his best to keep his voice at its lowest, softest register. This man had just woken up after who knows how many years in stasis. He was going to be confused. “What is your name?”

“John H...John.”

“No surname?” Sisko prompted.

“I...no. I don’t have one.” There was a suspicious pause but again, Sisko had learned his lesson when it came to bedside interrogations, so he didn’t push it.

“We found you floating in a pod of unknown material just outside of a wormhole. Any memory of how you got there?”

“N..No...I shouldn’t even be here. Be...this...where am I?” John picked himself up a bit, confusion in his face quickly turning into panic. Julian managed to push him back down with a gentle nudge on the shoulder.

“Calm down.” Bashir soothed. “You’re on space station Deep Space Nine, in the alpha quadrant. Does that make sense to you?” Bashir had come down and was looking deep into John’s eyes, searching them with medical focus.

“No.” Even in delirious murmuring, the response came flat. Bashir turned to Sisko, concern obvious in his expression. Concern was usually obvious in Bashir’s expression.

“I suggest he stay here overnight. He may have some form of concussion or neurological damage from time spent in stasis. You can ask him a few more questions to keep him talking while I give him some basic once overs to check nerve functions, but he’ll need to be asleep if I have to give him any more intense examinations.” Similar to Jadzia, Bashir also alternated between a fun, naive social side and an authoritative medical side. Sisko knew that in this mode, he had no way to argue, so he nodded and narrowed down his mental list of questions.

“What is the last thing you remember?” he began, taking a seat next to the biobed.

“I was...pursuing a ship. The starblaster I think it was called.” Sisko made a mental note to check on this in the files. “They were following after a material I had need for. Then suddenly a flash, and I was waking up in this...station.” It was very clear that John wasn’t telling the whole truth, but Sisko put pressing this off until the man was more lucid. Meanwhile, Bashir was shining a light in John’s eyes. The irises seemed to shift and glimmer under the light, undulating with the same bands of color as seen in the pod. It was almost hypnotic.

“Were you pursuing this ship in the small pod we found you in?”

“No...the forces I had access to were far greater.” A chill ran down Ben’s spine at the cold pride in John’s voice. Bashir seemed equally perturbed, but went back to light brain scans.

“What happened to separate you from these forces?”

“We both passed through some kind of barrier. I suppose my section of the forces got separated from the rest there, and the two just kept on going...without me.”

“And what was left of your ship went into some sort of stasis mode.”

“I suppose.” John shrugged, seemingly coming more and more to his senses with each question.

“Who is Merle?”

“I...I’m not entirely sure to be honest Mr. Sisko.” The Man’s politeness seemed genuine, and, like his confusion, sparked an odd mix of endearment and fear in Sisko’s heart. “I believe he’s one of the crewmembers aboard the Starblaster. He has contacted me many times up until now.”

“For what purpose?”

“Conversation mostly.” The simple answer confused and intrigued Sisko, but the look on Bashir’s face told him he didn’t have time to press further for now.

“I’ll let you rest for now. Doctor.” Sisko nodded at Bashir.

“I’ll let you know as soon as he’s ready to answer more questions, Captain.”

--

The next morning, Bashir came in early to wake John up again and do a full physical. He had a suspicion that the captain would only wait so long to have his curiosity sated, so he had to be expedient to make sure his strange new patient was 1) functional and 2) not medically proven to be dangerous.

Unfortunately, the physical presented more questions than it answered. To all scanners, John still read as human, but the resemblances stopped there. For starters, despite being quite sprightly and aware this morning, John’s metabolic and heart rates still read as low as your average coma patient. Second, his chest appeared to be pock marked with odd cracks, as if his skin were old clay. Then there were his irises from last night. Finally, and most surprising, was his blood. Though John passed the changeling test - much to Bashir’s relief - it was only because his blood didn’t come out red in the first place. Instead, a slow, black ichor oozed it’s way into the sampler. The ichor, like the pod and John’s irises, gleamed with the occasional stripe of neon. This at least explained his low rates, since there was no way this stuff went through the veins quickly, but it still didn’t explain who - or what - John was.

Worst of all, John found nothing odd with his results.
“Something wrong, doctor?”

“John...what species are you?”

“I believe I’m human...last I checked at least.” Bashir chuckled a bit but was faced with the possibility that this man might genuinely had to have checked if he was human recently.

“Are you quite sure? Because these results don’t seem to be...um...congruent with that.” Normally, Julian would be much more delicate with this. But something about how John was holding himself made the doctor suspect he already knew..

“Oh. I suppose that might make sense.” John’s chuckle affirmed these suspicions. “You see, I am a slightly enhanced version of my former self.” Julian froze up a bit at this. It was highly possible that- but he had never seen genetic enhancements on this level. What benefits could this even give someone?

“Is that so? In what way?” Bashir struggled to keep his voice light and conversational.

“It’s a bit difficult to explain, I’m afraid.” John kept chuckling as though at an inside joke only he understood.

“Try me.” Bashir leaned against a panel and crossed his arms, leaning his beanpole torso in conspiratorially. If this man really was a victim of experimentation like himself, Bashir wanted to help.

“Well, you see, I’m not just the man you see before you.” Classic dramatism of the enhanced. “I expand much further than this normally.” Slightly off kilter but still classic. “You see, Doctor Bashir. I am Everything.” On that last word, John’s voice seemed to multiply, his irises, blood sample, and the sample of goo from the pod (now in a glass jar to the side) all thrumming with an unknown energy.

With that, Bashir made a number of calls upstairs.

Chapter Text

Sisko paced back and forth in the briefing room, looking anywhere but the suited man at the other end of the table. His mind raced with the vast swath of information and the attitude change in John. Was this man a threat? How much power did he have now that he was cut off at the source? Was this all just a trick by Q? Who were the people John was chasing? Should they help him get in contact with this “Merle” or not?

Even if the last one was the affirmative, could they? He had personally checked history logs for Merle Highchurch and the Starblaster to no avail.

“Okay. Take me through this one more time.” All of yesterday’s soothing was gone and replaced with what Dax playfully called the ‘Smoulder Voice.’

“I am a part of a being called the Hunger. I was searching for what I call the Light of Creation to sate this hunger of mine and grow larger. My consciousness must have been separated when I passed through that wormhole of yours.”

“And Merle and the Starblaster?”

“They have been chasing after the Light themselves, I used them to track the light. Merle contacts me often enough that I know him well by now.”

“Any details you can give me to help me see if they’ve passed through here recently?”

“Will you help me find them or will you shoo them away?” John quirked an eyebrow challengingly.

“It depends.” Sisko’s voice was even.

“Fine. Merle is short. Dwarven I believe. With white hair, a big full beard, green eyes with small flecks of yellow and grey in them that kinda brighten when he laughs, tends to go shirtless, well sculpted for his age, pretty sure he has a margaritaville tramp stamp-”

“That’s more than enough to go off of, John.” Ben interrupted before the man could continue any further with this diatribe. Did the man just not hear the words coming out of his own mouth?

“Oh.” John replied with earnest surprise. “Okay.”

“One last question, and please be honest with me, John.” Sisko tried to suppress the oncoming headache. “Why exactly should I help you?”

“To get me out of your hair? Or-” John wisely cut off his own dangerous joke.

“And if doing so would go against my duty as a Starfleet officer?”

“I don’t think it would. From what i’ve absorbed off your database, your creed largely means upholding the status quo and not interfering more than you need to morally or for safety’s sake. I can’t speak for morality because I’m a bit...beyond the topic. But I don’t think I can pose a threat to you right now, and once I’m back with the rest of me I won’t be on this plane anymore. Also, what could be more natural than an organism who eats to grow?”
“Valid points, until you said you were “beyond morality.” Sisko acquiesced a bit.

“In that case think of it this way - until I am gone, you’re stuck with a man who doesn’t understand humanity in the slightest. Since I am determined to get my form back with or without your help, teaching me the finer points of morality would be the wisest course of action for the future.” The playful satisfaction of John’s smile both drew Sisko in and pissed him off.

“Don’t attempt to play with me John. I’ve dealt with omnipotent beings who enjoy goading my sense of morality before, and they ended up very much punched by the end of things.”

“Duly noted. Still, as long as I’m here I would greatly appreciate some guidance. I haven’t held a human form for an extended period of time in a while, so I’m genuinely interested in learning.” John’s expression, though still mirthful, appeared genuine for the time being. Despite all his better judgement, Sisko couldn’t help but be pulled in a bit by John’s demeanor. The way he strung his words together was hypnotic on some basic level, just as the bands of light in his pupils were.

“Fine.” Sisko nodded. “But. We’ll have a probationary run of this for the next month. You’ll be assigned quarters with a security detail outside. Only I, Bashir, Constable Odo, and Major Kira will be allowed inside, and if you leave it will be with one of us. Afterwards we’ll see if I trust you to roam the station on your own.”

“Fair enough.” The falsely dramatic annoyance at these terms was not at all charming, Sisko thought as he punched his badge to open up comms.

“Constable Odo. Let’s see if we can’t find Mr. John some quarters.”

Chapter Text

“Captain are you sure about this?” Odo asked for what felt like the 10th time on the way to John’s quarters. Kira herself had also posed this question before but had nodded solemnly after the 3rd time. Odo was, characteristically these days, harder to convince.

“Yes, Constable. I am” Ben was absolutely not sure about this but that had never stopped him before.

“Are you absolutely sure though? This man could pose any number of security risks.”

“I know, Constable.”
“He could be a member of the Q collective, he could be an augmented Romulan, here to do some work that would solidify an alliance with the dominion, he could be a changeling-”

“Doctor Bashir already conducted a blood screening. He passed.”

“ONLY BECAUSE HIS BLOOD WAS PITCH BLACK, CAPTAIN.” Odo was getting exasperated to the point of yelling, but declined to do so.

“If I may, Captain, the Constable has a point.”

“One that I recognize, Major, but right now it appears that John isn’t lying to us. If he was, why tell such an outrageous story?”

“That’s not as comforting as you think it is.” Odo grumbled. “At best, it simply means the man is delusional.”

“He might be. However, the entire point of this exercise is to assess him as a security risk. So long as he is confined, we will be fine.”

Odo grumbled some more, flat mouth doing its best impression of a disgruntled turtle’s, but he didn’t say any more as they opened the door to reveal Julian playing chess with the risk in question.

“Doctor.” Was all that came out of Sisko’s mouth. He was in shock. He knew the doctor was one for the humanitarian approach. He knew that this had often resulted in a sort of naiveté, only enhanced by Bashir’s attempts to push off any evidence of his own enhancements. But this. This was lunacy.

“Oh, Captain!” Bashir turned to face them with surprise and a little shame on his face. At least he had the good sense to know he’d done something wrong. Odo and Kira each avoided looking at this scene. It had been nice knowing Julian. They’d miss him. John’s expression was notably placid.

“Care to explain what it is you’re doing, Doctor Bashir?” Sisko kept his voice even and calm, which had the desired effect of terrifying Bashir. Even with how much the man had grown in the last few years, and even with his enhancements, Bashir had a sort of youngness to him that made him incredibly susceptible to fear of Sisko. At least, outside of that professional focus which had always been there. So what if Sisko still used this to his advantage at times, it was mostly to protect the good doctor from more messes along the way than anything else.

“Uhm. I came in to take a few follow up tests on John, and he expressed some boredom without anything to engage with, and since I happen to have a chess set in my room, I thought-”

“This is not a hotel, Doctor. If...John wants to ‘engage’ with something, he can search through the information database, or read something on the PADDs we gave him. He does not need the chief medical officer aboard the station to personally attend to him with a game of chess.” Sisko needed a last name for this man. Calling him John felt much too personal.

“Yes, but he seemed to want to practice his game, and to talk, and since the entire point of this exercise is to help him become more human in some way, I thought-” Bashir stumbled over his words.

“You’d put yourself, and possibly the rest of us, at risk?” Bashir didn’t seem to know how to answer that. To be fair, Ben was being a bit dramatic, but sometimes one needs to be.

“Please Captain. Don’t blame the good doctor.” John suddenly spoke up. “I was complaining that the boredom was impinging on my mental state, and he very politely obliged me. My error.” There was a smug politeness to John that reminded Ben of another person on the station, which made sense of why Bashir might be so willing to socialize.

“Very well. Doctor, I assume you are finished with your examinations?” Ben quirked an eyebrow, letting Bashir know he was off the hook, but barely.

“Yes, Captain.” Bashir replied, quickly moving to leave the room.

“Don’t forget your chessboard, doctor.” John called after him.

“Keep it, I’ll pick it up after next visit.” Bashir answered back, not willing to make the embarrassing journey back into the room to collect it.

“Well then.” Ben straightened and turned to John. “John, I’m sure you remember Constable Odo, he will be giving a brief interrogation and one last test to ensure...certain aspects of your identity.”

“Very well. Fire away. Though I suggest we do something to pass the time during the questions. Are you any good at chess, Constable?” John gestured to the board invitingly

“Yes, but I’d rather get right to the questioning.” Odo waved him off.

“Fine.”

The interrogation passed slowly, with the Constable needling at every juncture, trying to get more details than John had previously given, trying to catch him in any unlikely or dubious parts of his story (of which there were many), at one point he tried to change directions and just get a last name out of the man, but John was more reticent to tell him that than anything else. The man was an odd mix of forthright and difficult, weaving his way through the sentences with as much skill as the Constable. It was one of few times Ben had ever seen someone so un-intimidated by Odo.

They also asked some routine questions to see if he was familiar with any of their allies or enemies. They also asked him if he knew any Q’s. Nothing seemed to ring a bell.

Finally, it was time for the last test. Odo explained that he would need skin contact for it to work, and then began to make his hand turn into goop. When nothing happened after a good (and awkward) 20 minutes, they stopped, confirmed at least that John wasn’t some changeling.

As they were preparing to leave, Ben was struck with a thought. No plates or crumbs were found anywhere in the room. In a spurt of curiosity, he quietly checked the food replicator.

“Computer, access replicator logs.”

Accessing….since last clearing of history, one (1) glass of room temperature water has been ordered from this terminal.

“When was the last history clear?”

One week ago.

“Have you not eaten at all since we brought you here?” Ben asked, turning to John

“I do not need to eat, Captain.” John answered simply.

“What do you mean?”

“Food isn’t a necessity for me. I haven’t had this form for very long, and it appears that it doesn’t get very hungry that often.” John chuckled at the irony of the statement.

“Then...that will be your first human lesson. The next time I come here, you will eat a meal.” Ben didn’t entirely know what he was doing, but better he go into this blind than someone like Bashir.

“Very well, Captain.” John quirked his eyebrows a bit, but made no comment. Nor did Kira or Odo, for that matter.

Chapter Text

The food incident was a slight disaster. It turned out that when John said “I don’t need to eat” he meant “I can’t.” The whole thing ended with a dark stain on the table from when the man’s stomach rejected the gumbo, the burger, and then even the saltines that Sisko ordered from the replicator, and returned them as a deep black sludge.
“I apologize Captain. But I did warn you.”

“I...suppose you did.”

So instead of eating, they played chess together, and debated a bit of philosophy back and forth - apparently wherever John was from, they had Nietzche - and some science - apparently they also had a crazy system of physics that included magic - and some baseball - it was lucky he had knowledge of that. Ben also informed him of (some) going ons around the station, like Jadzia and Worf’s wedding.

Sisko didn’t trust him, not by a long shot. But at the same time he got the impression that whatever threat or hidden agenda John might have concealed, it wasn’t one that he could access at the moment. And for his part, John was taking to the ‘human lessons’ quite enthusiastically, specifically the idea of communication. He’d go on long monologues if unimpeded. A lesson Sisko wished he’d learned sooner.

Kira and Odo occasionally came by themselves. Sisko couldn’t exactly spend his entire day talking with John, he had a station to run. Unfortunately, neither could find quite as rich conversation ground. One session, John tried to win over the Major by studying up on the prophets, and attempting to engage her in debate. This ended in an hour long, rather loud exchange of words.

“But if we are to believe the prophecies, and if we are to believe they came from the Prophets themselves directly through the orbs, then how did they not foresee and warn the occupation?”

“The prophecies given to us only apply to us, they never commented on the actions of outside forces on Bajor.”

“Then how is the Captain an Emissary? How did they predict his movements?”

“Maybe his destiny is so intertwined with Bajor that he is considered of our planet?”

This went on for a while, and neither Odo nor Sisko had any intention of stopping it and getting punched by Kira.

Bashir also made his returns, mostly to take blood tests or discuss John’s odd physiology with him. He notably declined to ever take back his chessboard. He also discussed art, science, and philosophy with John, clearly enjoying the reparte and debate. (Garak had seemed rather testy and almost - lonely last Sisko saw him).

Eventually, despite himself, Sisko saw fit to allow John some walking permission around the station. Key word some. He was to be accompanied by a security officer at all times, if not the Captain, or Odo, or at least Worf, who though just married a week previous to this, was still sufficiently terrifying in his marital bliss to keep an eye on John. The main instructions were as follows: do not let him near sensitive systems, do not let him leave your sight, and (and this was an unspoken instruction) do not let him near Jacob Sisko. Every time they passed by him on his way to get some coffee, or to conduct an interview, or to go up to the holosuite, Ben would quickly wave to his son, maybe give a hug if they were close enough, and pointedly not introduce him to John.

“Is that your son, Captain?”

“Yes.” Ben replied, voice drenched in suspicion.

“Have you told him who I am? What I am?”

“Parts.” Jake had been curious about the man they brought on the station, Sisko had had a long day and needed to talk about it.

“I see. Any reason you don’t want me talking to him?”

“None in particular, though if I’m honest I doubt your views would be a good influence.”

“I suppose not.”
--
Meanwhile, Jake was still curious. As was John. It followed that the son of someone like Ben Sisko would be as interesting to talk to as the man himself. And he was always starved for conversation. It happened that, luckily, one of his guards did have a weakness in the form of his wife, Jadzia. Many times as they were walking, Worf would see Jadzia walking to deliver the results of a scan, or take a quick break for lunch after her shift, and would maneuver himself and John over to wherever she was. John didn’t mind. Jadzia herself was incredibly interesting to talk to. In a fit of boredom when all of his ‘watchers’ were on shift, John had read the vast majority of the Starfleet database. The Trill seemed fascinating, with their multiple lifetimes. Nothing compared to his own, but still. She was vibrant and yet analytical, cold and warm at the same time. Very fun to talk to.

At one point, John saw Jake inside of Quark’s as Jadzia’s conversation with Worf had turned from work-related to just plain flirting as it usually did, even when Jadzia tried to include John in the conversation. He took the opportunity proposed by Worf’s blush to quickly dart into the bar and sit down next to Jake, who was having a coffee and talking to a boy in uniform on the other side of him. They were talking about some kind of game of marbles.

“Pardon me, are you Jake Sisko?” Jake turned to him with a curious concern on his face, one which turned into a look of surprise.

“Yeah. Wait. Aren’t you the man that got brought aboard a week ago?”
“Yes. My name is John. Pleasure to meet you.” John held out a hand, which Jake shook eagerly.

“Jake, are you sure you should be talking to him?” The boy on the other side asked. He looked like what the database described as a Ferengi. He also looked about twelve, but that might have just been from the wide eyed nervousness he seemed to exude. “Your dad probably wouldn’t be too thrilled.”

“It’s fine Nog.” Nog acquiesced but still looked nervous.

“Pardon me, but what game were you two just talking about?” Jake’s eyes lit up by that, and he launched into an explanation.

“Oh Dom’Jot. It’s this game where-” Unfortunately, he was interrupted by the Ferengi at the bar.

“Hello, and welcome to Quark’s!” He greeted John in a far-too-magnanimous voice. “Care to order a drink? We’ve got all the most fabulous ales and concoctions this side of-”

“No thank you. As you were saying?” John kept his answer flat.

“Well maybe, you’d like to try out our Dabo tables, one of the girls would be happy to show you the ropes, and maybe even something more.” The Ferengi was being quite insistent now.

“I’m really not interested.” Again, flat answer, no chance to be ‘convinced.’

“If you’re not going to drink or gamble, then maybe you’d like to leave?” All magnanimity immediately dropped, replaced by a sour expression.

John was about to answer when Sisko marched up behind him and said in that calm-but-clearly-meant-to-intimidate voice.

“John, what are you doing?”

“Trying to learn about Dom’Jot, Captain.” John gave his best impression of a sheepish smile.

“You can look it up on the computer, can’t you? No need to go soliciting explanations from random youths in bars?”

“Dad, come on.” Jake tried to reason, but to no avail.

“I trusted you to stay with your security detail, and this is what you do?”
“I apologize. I was just so curious to see what the son of Captain Benjamin Sisko was like. I promise it will never happen again.”

“You’d better hope it doesn’t.” Out of the corner of his eye, John could see the Ferengi bartender with a smirk of utter shadenfreude.

John spent the next week in his room with limited visits by Sisko and the rest as punishment.

--

Luckily for John, humanity had learned a thing or two about forgiveness, and Jake had (somewhat) been able to influence his father’s decision. Soon enough he was back to his status as “wanderer under close supervision” though the Captain himself took on a more active role in said supervision barring any important war meetings.

While they were on the Promenade, Sisko took the opportunity to make rounds and smile warmly at the Bajorans who approached him, making small talk about the surface before moving on. John had noticed in their walks that the Bajorans seemed to have high opinions of Sisko. Which, John supposed, made sense if he were an Emissary.

“Could you explain something for me, Captain?” He asked when the curiosity overtook.

“Yes, John?” Sisko replied, almost seeming defensive.

“What exactly are the duties of an Emissary?”

“The Bajorans regard me as an inbetween between them and the prophets, or the beings within the wormhole. I made contact with said prophets shortly after coming to the station, and said regard has mostly held since. Mostly I give blessings, or wish good fortunes for those who ask for them, as dictated by Bajoran traditions. Occasionally the prophets will give me a vision, or communicate with me.”

“So you’re held in that high regard? That seems quite advantageous to your stay here.” and that was too far. John knew this, but he also knew that if he didn’t make Sisko defensive, he would never explain further. He was much harder to interrogate than those John had experience with.

“It’s not like that. In fact, my superiors dislike the fact that I even engage with the Bajorans on this level, or play into their interpretation of the wormhole. I don’t do this for such...callous reasons.” In the past few weeks, John had learned to distinguish the tone of voice Sisko used when he was in moral outrage. Or maybe when he had to remember to be morally outraged. Either way, it meant a speech. A long one.

“Then why do you?” Sisko stopped short at that question, struggling to answer. John knew Sisko wasn’t so callous as to indulge the Emissary image for strategic benefit. He was a good man, and probably took seriously his duty to Bajor. Probably thought this was his purpose in life. But that was exactly why he asked. John had known and pitied many good men over the course of his life.

Luckily for Sisko, however, he never ended up having to answer. Just as John was about to go into his own morally outraged speech, he got a faraway look in his eye, and went even paler than usual.

“I-John, are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

In a way John had. Standing in the doorway of the temple was a short, stout dwarf with a beard full of flowers and a red jacket. He looked confused, surprised, and as though something was going wrong, which it was.

“Merle?” Was the last thing John said before Sisko put a hand on his shoulder, not seeing the dwarf, and the Hunger collapsed.

Chapter Text

Merle stumbled back to his room on the Starblaster, shirt off, body feeling...weirdly non-murdered for the first time in a decade. His bones felt hollow. So did his skin. This wasn’t right. When he’d gone into Parley, he hadn’t seen the normal high-rise office space that usually accompanied his talks with John. No, he’d seen a massive structure, one surrounded by stars with the kind of architecture that you could tell used to be meant to strike fear into the hearts of...someone. Instead of a negotiating table, he’d been placed within some sort of religious alcove. The other IPRE members might have thought he didn’t notice anything but...he could feel something Pan-Like in that temple. He knew what was up.

But the change in scenery wasn’t what was bothering him. Nor was it entirely that John hadn’t killed him - though somehow that also felt wrong. When he saw John, he’d been talking to someone Merle couldn’t see. Arguing about some kind of...religion? Nothing made sense. Not only that but when John finally saw him, when he passed out and allowed Parley to end, the look on his face was one of such fear and shock...it was unsettling to say the least. What did any of this mean?

Quiet as he could, he knocked on the door to his quarters. He wasn’t quite ready to answer every question the crew had about why he was back early and what small bits of intel he was able to stumble into this time, but it also wouldn’t do to slip into bed only to have Davenport surprised to find him there. Not that boundaries mattered all that much to any of them anymore. But he knew for a fact, due to some mildly-disguised advice from Taako, that Dav usually asked not to be disturbed when Merle was away.

The state of Davenport’s face as he opened the door was enough to tell even Merle why. His bright orange hair was all mussed up, his eyes seemed...dimmer somehow. The IPRE jacket that Dav usually kept in such careful condition, even while everyone else had let theirs get wrinkled or cut into a crop top, was stained, and almost looked to big for him. Unless...was that Merle’s? But beyond that, the look of shock on his face, the widening of Dav’s bleary eyes...well, Merle had already seen that look once already today and he wasn’t a fan of the repeat experience.

“Merle? Wha? How’re...why’re…” Davenport babbled.

“Shhhh, shhh...” Merle tried to soothe. He had no explanations, and he didn’t want to get everyone woken up to puzzle over this just yet. Was this an effective method of figuring things out? No. Did it matter? Also no. So instead, he guided Davenport back to the bed with gentle hands. “Something went wrong with Parley but I’ll tell you in the morning.” Suddenly, Merle felt incredibly tired. Normally, he died in Parley, so he didn’t have to face the strain it put on his body, but this time…

He would have liked to stay awake a little longer to comfort his captain some more. He didn’t like the look on his face. Unfortunately, his body pulled him under as soon as he put head to pillow. Luckily enough, it turned out that Dav really didn’t mind so long as Merle’s body was here. And here it would stay, for now.

When John’s vision eventually returned to him, he noticed a few key things. For starters, Merle wasn’t around anymore. The dwarf was gone. Shit. Secondly, he was in the infirmary, with about 6 people who were all very concerned and very much Not Merle looking down at him. One of them was Sisko who actually looked concerned specifically for him which was. Huh. New.

Another thing that he noticed, after becoming reaccustomed to the Absence of Merle and the Existence of a Caring Sisko was a very peculiar feeling in his abdomen. A kind of tugging. He could hear a weird squelch coming from down there as well. His arms felt weird too, like something was being...passed through them. Like a liquid. As he noticed, he heard a faint beeping coming from the monitors and the Non-Merle and Non-Sisko elements in the room started buzzing around frantically.

“What happened?” He asked, trying to get up but feeling far too heavy.

“You collapsed on the promenade. You mentioned Merle again as well.” Sisko leaned in a bit to allow the doctors around him to busy themselves. John heard them say something about...metabolic rate increase? Did that have anything to do with this sudden feeling in his body?

“I...I saw him, captain. He was standing in the doorway to the temple.” Bashir wormed his way around them to hold something up to John’s forehead, and shone a light in his eyes again. He frowned. So did Sisko, though seemingly for different reasons.

“John. How are you feeling?” Bashir asked, and John could almost swear he saw the gears turn in the good doctor’s head.

“My...midsection...feels odd. And...my arms feel like something is...moving inside them.”

“What do you think it is, Doctor?” Sisko asked, in a low voice that very pointedly did not show the true extent of his concern.

“I don’t entirely know. It’s not like he’s left his quarters much since he got here, and even a visit to Quark’s couldn’t provide for symptoms like he’s just described. If not for that, I’d almost think he had a tic. Of course...with these readings…” Bashir drifted off, eyeing the blood testing device. “I wonder.”

He picked up the device and gave John a quick jab. It...kind of hurt. Which was also new. A bad kind of new. He looked over to watch the goo he expected to come out of his arm from where Bashir had just pricked him. If John were someone else, he might have fainted. It was red.

It was blood.

Julian blanched at this, and tested him again, this time on his leg. That still gave out goo. The doctor huffed, perturbed and confused. It was all John and Sisko could do to just watch him putter around the lab, testing things and likely thinking at warp 9. He pulled out a tricorder and held it over John’s abdomen. The thing beeped tinnily, and Julian’s face finally settled.

“I believe I know what is causing your stomach discomfort, John.” he said, flipping the screen of the tricorder around for his patient to see. “You just grew one.”

--

“So,” Sisko intoned in his Business Voice as they all sat around the table in the wardroom pointedly avoiding looking at where John was scarfing down Zoth-nut stew entirely too quietly, “How did this happen?”

“A better question might be what happened.” Odo piped up. “I looked at the security logs and we have no records of life signs in the place that John reported seeing this...dwarf.”

“I didn’t read any anomalous brain scans on him while we were running tests.”

“Didn’t you also say last time that there was nothing to scan?” An awkward silence followed that, only to be broken by the clink of John’s spoon against bowl as he set it down.

“He was there. I know he was.” The quiet certainty in John’s voice seemed to broker no argument. “I could...feel his presence somehow. Like I was in some...other space. Just out of alignment with the rest of reality.”

“Okay.” Ben scrubbed at his face a bit with his hands, “So if we are saying that Merle was there” he did his best to ignore the dubious he was getting from his senior staff “Then what was this? And why did it coincide with your growing a stomach?”

“Maybe it’s something to do with your physiology?” Dax mused, looking over a PADD with some of Bashir’s notes on them “You were saying during your examination that you used to exist in a different plane...maybe you’re going in and out of phase with our time?”

“Maybe. There’s not exactly enough of me to...go...anymore, though.”

“Well maybe that’s the thing of it. You don’t have nearly as much of that goo in or around you anymore so maybe your body is going through some kind of...settling process to land in our time or phase. Organic material doesn’t exactly do as well when in a state of temporal flux as something else, after all”

“Hey.” Julian interrupted, mock offended and snatching his PADD from her hands. “I’m supposed to be the body scientist here. These are my theories”

“Not unless you have a temporal mechanics degree I don’t know about.” Jadzia laughed as she grabbed back. “Besides, I don’t see you coming up with answers.”

“That still doesn’t answer why I saw Merle though.” John cut through, and they all stopped short, obviously still kind of convinced it was some kind of illusion.

“There is another explanation for that.” Kira piped up, “What if it was the prophets? A ship was near the wormhole at the time. And, I mean if he showed up in the temple, then-”

“Why would the prophets show Merle to me?”

“Well they exist outside of time! Maybe they’re trying to...I don’t know...put you on the path to find him again?” This seemed to shut John up for a few seconds.

“Didn’t you say you used to talk with Merle often in a ‘neutral space’?” Ben asked suddenly, quietly, with that ‘deep in thought’ voice of his. “Maybe this was one of those times.”

“This station is hardly neutral, Captain.” John didn’t add ‘In more ways than one’
“No, but what if, as the Major was saying, the prophets were somehow responsible for some kind of...temporal anomaly within that neutral space? Anchoring it? After all, we don’t know how that space would exist within the confines of our world, much less an alinear existence like that of the prophets.”

“That still doesn’t explain why I have a stomach now.”

“It could.” Julian piped up. “If we think about it the other way around, maybe seeing this Merle was enough of a shock to your system that it caused your body to start...operating again.”

“I’ve had a lot of shocks to my system lately, doctor. None have given me cravings for soup.”

“Yes, but from what you’ve described to me, Merle has been your main point of humanoid contact up until now. Maybe the clashing of these two points...awakened something within you. Perhaps in time from now, more of you will be human.”

“Perhaps.” John fiddled with his spoon, licking for more soup. “All I know is. I haven’t been this...Hungry...in a while.” As he said this, he smiled to himself, as if this were a joke only he was in on, and stole a look at the captain. The almost tender concern on Ben’s face from a while ago had slipped, to be replaced with a different kind. A scared kind.

Perfect.

Chapter Text

John was surprised that this new “Food” thing didn’t hold his focus nearly as long as he thought it would. Sure, he sampled the menu like nobody’s business. Sure, he annoyed Quark with said sampling of the menu, much to his own entertainment - and to the seeming entertainment of the Constable. Still, ironic as it was, food just didn’t seem to sate him beyond the physical after about two weeks.

And beyond that, everyone seemed busy at the moment. Though, by everyone, John supposed he really meant Dax, Sisko, and Bashir. The others still didn’t go out of their way to talk to him. Bashir, despite being a bit...much at times, was the most sorely missed. It felt like he hadn’t seen him in days, not since that dinner in Sisko’s quarters, and that uncomfortable conversation about genetic resequencing. Frankly, John didn’t quite understand the whole thing. He’d gone back after the dinner and Damar’s speech to do research about the Eugenics war, but the ban on genetically enhanced individuals serving in Starfleet still felt a bit trivial.

And, since his primary guides on humanity were all busy, he was stuck at 6am in the replimat without anyone to ask about it. Julian was off, knee-deep in a project with some other genetically enhanced people, apparently trying to get the best results out of these new negotiations with the Dominion using statistics, Ben was looking over their results and relaying advice to Starfleet, and Jadzia was balancing giving her own diplomatic and scientific advice to both of them with her actual duties as chief science officer. He had actually managed to go out for drinks with Chief O’Brien but he was pretty dead set on wistfully waiting for the good doctor to come back to him so it wasn’t exactly an enjoyable evening.

So there he sat, trying to find new ways of eating and experiencing eggs on toast (this time with Kava juice) and wishing to talk to someone about something.

This was, conveniently, when a man who looked to be of Cardassian origin approached him with a glint in his eye and an overly-incidental form of walking.

“Pardon me,” he said in a coy voice that reminded John of his own. “You wouldn’t happen to be ‘John’, would you? The man they found at the edge of the wormhole?”

“Um...yes, I am in fact.” John didn’t like the way the Cardassian was looking at him but it wasn’t as if he could really improvise a cover story at the moment.

“My name is Garak. I believe we have a mutual...friend in Doctor Bashir.” Well that certainly explained some things. Well, nothing really about Garak, but certainly a lot about Doctor Bashir and his taste in friends and, well, ‘friends’.

“Oh, yes of course. How may I help you, Garak?” What could he say? He was bored.

“Well, I’m afraid, the Constable has cancelled our breakfast appointment, something about a Dominion delegation being out of hand, combined with the dear Doctor’s guests making for a ‘security nightmare that isn’t helped by you, Garak,’ I am certain you understand.” John did, but was honestly floored by the fact that Odo ate breakfast with what appeared to be the most suspicious man in the galaxy. “All of this to say, I am rather missing my mealtime conversations this week and, if you don’t mind me saying, you appear to be rather unique among the humans on this station, especially as I’ve seen you here, eating with all manner of senior staff-”

“I have been referred to as a ‘good conversationalist.’” John deflected.

“It certainly appears that way. I was hoping that you and I might pass the time in polite conversation, given that our friends seem to be too busy for us. I have many questions for you, if you don’t mind.” Now this felt familiar, sitting across a table with someone trading questions back and forth. John couldn’t help but feel, though, that the questions Garak would ask would be more incisive than he was used to. Oh, to have a chessboard.

“But of course. I think I’m rather curious about you myself. I have limited knowledge of Cardassia, but just enough to know that your presence on a Bajoran space station under Federation control is odd, to say the least. What do you do here?

“Yes, as much has been told to me. In answering your question, I own a humble tailor’s shop just over there.” He indicated with a coy, practiced smile. “What were you doing just outside the wormhole?” The man practically fluttered his eyelashes as he asked, the cheeky bastard.

“I was having some fun time being in a coma.” John answered in complete and utter honesty. “What did you do before becoming a tailor?”

“Ah.” Garak held up a finger. “That’s not quite an answer and I think you know that as well as I.”

“I was in a coma.” John shrugged. “And as Bashir has no doubt puzzled out to you over Plomeek soup, I don’t quite have much a bodily presence before I woke up on the edge of the wormhole.”

“Fine. I was a gardener.” Garak conceded, even though it was pretty clear that was a lie. Very clever of him. “What were you doing before the coma?” Small victories.

“A gardener? Really? I have a good friend who is very interested in plants. I was chasing him through space shortly before my coma. Where did you do your planting?”

“On Romulus. Who was this friend?”

“A...holy man. Rather short. Romulus, really, well don’t you get around to many enemy planets, isn’t that odd for a humble tailor/gardner?”

“Oh come now, Romulus and Cardassia have never been at war, not even now. Why were you chasing this man?”

“He had something I wanted, so any other careers you’ve found interesting?”

“Oh, a few, but none quite so enjoyable as the Gardening really. A family pastime, you see.” Garak almost snarled on the word ‘family.’ “What did he have?”

“A snack I quite liked.” Technically true. “Why are you asking about my business near the wormhole, anyway?”

“I could ask you quite the same thing! Why this interest specifically in my past careers?”

“Oh, I was just a little curious what actually brought you here and- you think I’m like Odo, don’t you? A shapeshifter?”

“Well, yes, I suppose. Wouldn’t anyone?”

“Fair enough. Well I’m not. Julian tested me himself, I’m a completely different kind of goo.”

“Are you, now. Well, you can’t blame me for being thorough.”

“No, especially not a former intelligence officer like yourself.”

“Oh, really, I assumed from our conversation that you were smarter than this, Mr…”

“Oh, just John. Plain and simple. And it’s no fault of your own. Julian just reads as a man with a love for...espionage.”

“Does he now…”

---

Sisko walked out of the turbolift with a migraine, having just had to talk Dr. Bashir down from tantamount treason. He’d looked over the reports himself, they did sound accurate. They even looked convincing! That still didn’t mean he was going to turn over the Alpha Quadrant but...what if Julian was right? What if he was letting his pride get in the way of saving 900 billion lives? But what if he gave up on his principles to try and save those lives and they ended up all dying anyway because they missed something about Dominion surrender practices or the Cardassian ego?

He was midway through this rumination thought when he saw Odo in his normal spy spot on the Promenade, the one with the best view of the Replimat, Quark’s, the Shuttle Bay 1 doors and Jake and Nog’s old loitering spot. His back was straight as a rod as always and he stared with a certain intensity down at a single replimat table. Sisko stood next to him, not even needing to say anything as the Changeling noticed and incorporated his presence so easily. Odo’s single focus was something Ben admired and, right now, envied.

That was until he took a look at what Odo was staring at. John, still a mystery on the station, was amiably chatting over several empty plates to Garak of all people.

“That’s certainly an interesting pair.” He remarked in that dangerous voice that meant
‘what the fuck are you doing, Constable’ but had very little effect on Odo unless the goo was already rattled.

“It certainly is. I came down from solving that brief Jem’Hadar disturbance to apologize to Garak for cancelling and just found them chatting away.” Odo looked bemused which was troubling.

“And you saw fit not to...intercede?” Ben trusted Odo with his life, and with running the station efficiently. There had been, at most, 2 moments in the history of his time on this station where that hadn’t been the case. This felt...like a third and Ben couldn’t place why.

“Why would I?” he had that confounded look on his face which Sisko usually found a little charming, was unwelcome here.

“Odo, these are the two most suspicious people on the station-”

“Save Quark.”

“- Save Quark. Don’t you think it’s just slightly possible that them talking, especially when we’re trying to teach John how to be a person is a little bit of a bad idea?”

“Captain, first of all, neither of them would ever trust each other. Second of all, John has been able to get me more information on Garak’s personal life by playing this little question game while I listen in than I ever have by interrogating or blackmailing him. And, I’ve learned what some might call a downright uncomfortable amount about John.”

“Such as?”

“That Merle he always talks about? Usually shirtless.”

“Huh.” Sisko said simply, “What about that.”

Chapter Text

The seven members of the Starblaster crew sat silently around what had become a sort of living room over the past...however long they’d been traveling. The room had gone through many iterations. Since it got reset every year, there were always extensive notes (mostly given by Lup and Taako) on where furniture should be this time, with mainstays being: “This couch is a Taako Couch get off of it Merle”, and Lucretia’s Reading Chair, which she somehow knew which one it was every time but Magnus SWORE changed each year. They had probably also done a few iterations multiple times. They had 1½ couches and 3 chairs. There’s only so much you can do with them before you have to repeat OR someone tries to nail one to the ceiling and that never goes well.

In addition to the awkward silence, Merle had noticed that everyone had kind of...avoided eye contact with him for the entire lead up to this meeting. It was kind of odd, now, after so many decades on the same ship and feeling after the first decade that this was his family. Now there was almost a little bit of a space between him and the rest, just the barest, nigh imperceptible inch of distance that wasn’t there before. Not even enough to affect the bond engine, Merle didn’t think. Just enough to sting a little.

He knew why. He supposed it had to be obvious, but still no one would admit that the Parleys were a strain between them. He was constantly going into the den of the enemy, bringing back somewhat important information and having given something away. No one wanted to say it because...it wasn’t like they thought Merle was like...this traitor. Taako would joke that he was a bit too short on straws to be one but, genuinely, none of them thought Merle the type of person to do so, even via slight incompetence.

Still, even the most sensitive could admit that it was just...good strategy to come up with their new schemes to try and fight back after Merle initiated Parley, that way even if he just said what they knew he wouldn’t necessarily give the Hunger an opportunity to circumvent it, or know where the Light was this time. They were being practical.

But this missed eye contact wasn’t practical. They all kind of sensed that they had grown...accustomed to not having Merle around anymore. To not hearing his fucking Fantasy Chesney CD’s in the morning once fall came around. To walking down one morning and seeing clouds in the shape of a shirtless dwarf, and to walking down 2 months later and seeing nothing. At first they’d held vigils to watch for the disappearance, put a lil flower in his spot if they found one for him to maybe find next year. Wish him luck. Now it would just be Davenport, sitting in a chair while off duty, drinking coffee and staring at the cloud with dead eyes.

After 5 years in a row of Parley, the rest of the crew all looked up and realized how quickly they had gotten used to it. To just not hearing from one of the six other voices that had served as their constants for all these years. One of seven red lights had effectively winked out for them and they had just...accepted it and moved on with their work. Never mind that they sometimes joked about how useless Merle was, he was still a member of the team, and an effective one at that. He, despite all evidence to the contrary, was their only medical professional.

Once that realization hit them, it was only a matter of time before they had to sit up and think ‘hey, wait a moment, how in the hell did I ever get used to any of this?’ They had all grown so accustomed to losing their friends, their family, and getting them back again, that they’d also gotten numb to how fucked up their lives were. That they were capable of losing a whole person for most of their year now...how did it get to this point?

Merle was feeling it too. He knew that it probably wasn’t healthy that he was separating himself from his friends, family, and partner, the only people with whom he could have an honest conversation about the above without a brain explosion. He knew that it wasn’t healthy to substitute these interactions with mindfuck chess games played against a genocidal maniac and fount of nihilism. But what exactly was he going to do? The team needed intel, and he was the only one who could get it. So he did.

It was being aware of most of this that Davenport sighed and rolled out some schematics of where they had ended up.

“Okay, team.” They all groaned. “Here’s what we know: this system is actually much simpler in terms of planes than others we’ve visited, featuring mainly a distinction between the corporeal and the non corporeal. It makes up for this in a number of populated planets, which all seem to have discovered interplanetary travel before planar. We-” Davenport flipped the page with a captainly flourish which had somehow survived all these years “Are near this planet, which appears to be entirely composed of goo save for one big rock over here.”

“I call NOT being on the recon team.” Lup raised her hand from where she was sitting cross legged on Taako’s couch. “I had to do it on the last goo planet we went to and I still find jello in my hair.”

“Well.” Davenport continued, a little sheepishly “We don’t actually know if the Light is gonna land on this one. This was just the entrance to the Planar system.” The team groaned again. “I know this is gonna be hard, guys, but it seems like I can probably get a good direction on scanners if it does fall. Just not. Exact Coordinates.”

“In a Real Ass Big Galaxy?”

“Yes Taako.” Davenport looked tired. “In a real ass big galaxy.”

They all looked dejected. If the Hunger got a hold of the light this time, it wouldn’t just be a world or an empty planet. It would be thousands of worlds, maybe even millions. it would get so powerful, so gargantuanly huge that it might be able to just...say to hell with the light of creation and just eat each world on its own...but they didn’t have a clue where to start.

Everyone looked at the floor, except Lucretia. She looked directly at Merle, with the kind of intense stare she usually reserved for her notebooks. She asked the question the rest wanted to ask but were too tired, too scared Merle might vanish if they did.

“What about Parley? Did you learn anything new?” This shouldn’t have been a tense moment but Davenport still found himself holding his breath.

“Uh...yeah. Something...happened to John? I think he was separated from the Hunger. Parley didn’t take place where it usually does it took place on this like...I dunno I think it was a space station? It seemed like he was physically...somewhere.”

“But doesn’t that go against like...the rules of Parley or whatever?” Taako wondered aloud, reclining across his Personal Couch, including Lup’s territory “Like aren’t you supposed to be transported to some neutral space or whatever.”

“Yeah,” Barry added on. “This feels inconsistent.”

“I mean, maybe it’s not. Maybe the ‘neutral space’ just means one on one, with no one interfering. Maybe it just did that office because John...didn’t...have...a body.” Merle trailed off.

“You seem to have thought about this” Magnus furrowed his bushy eyebrows. “Did you get anything else while you were there?”

“Not really, it was pretty quick.” Then Merle remembered how John had looked just before he called out his name “I don’t think he’s alone, though. I couldn’t see anyone else but... It looked like he was talking to someone.”

They were all silent. That was nearly nothing to go on and they all knew it. What could they do? Go looking for some space station halfway across a galaxy so they could maybe find the Hunger and maybe talk on more even footing? That was a long shot.

“Well, if that’s it…” Barry’s voice was almost silent, hating what he was saying “Maybe you should go back into Parley? Try to find out more?”

“I’ve been trying to since the morning after I got back.” Merle said plainly before even a moment of awkward silence. “John doesn’t seem to want to pick up the phone right now.” Merle could have sworn that, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Davenport’s head jerk up, saw a bit of anger flood into the gnome’s eyes. Before he could comment on it, though, Davenport stood, brushed off his jacket, and spoke.

“Okay, we all have work to do to try and figure out where the Light may end up or might already be. We should get to them. I’ll be at the bridge.” As the rest of the team filed out, however, Merle grabbed Davenport by the arm.

“What is it? You got all huffy when I mentioned trying Parley again-”

“You tried again immediately, Merle? What about ‘I can wait till we talk this over?’ What about being responsible about the thing that gets you Killed every year?”

“Hey, come on, you Know I have to do it! It’s for the mission!” Merle retorts with what he’d been telling himself this whole time. It was for the mission. It was for Dav. “It would be selfish to do otherwise.”

“Selfish? How selfish is it to go on your own little adventures and leave us without healing” Davenport knew first aid “How selfish is it to be gone for a year, and barely stick around to help us get our bearings” he’d never been helpful at that “how selfish is it, Merle, to make us sit and just...watch you voluntarily get killed, over and over again, watch you fade like smoke year in and year out and then- and then-”

The captain had originally instituted a no crying policy to try and keep up morale. He had stopped enforcing it after year 10, but he had still refused for years to cry in front of any of the crew. Except Merle.

“And then when I-we FINALLY have a year where you don’t die the first time, instantly give yourself the chance to die again while we have to watch?”

Merle was silent. What could he say? One of two things. One was cruel and unsympathetic, but might make it easier on Davenport this year and then he could apologize later. He could pull his ol’ Toxic Two punch. Tell Davenport not to watch, then.

The other would result in him not being allowed to Parley this year, or perhaps never again, and Davenport would be able to heal a bit in the comfort of Dwarf arms before they all got really dead and it was all Merle’s fault because he couldn’t be cruel to his Captain.

Neither of these happened. Instead, what happened was that Lup came over the intercom saying they had company in the form of a purple, buglike ship. Davenport turned to go, then made one look back at Merle, giving him one last chance to be cruel or kind.

Once again the universe made the choice for him. The ship shook - they were under fire.

“Sounds important.” Merle almost whispered, feeling like a coward.

“This isn’t over.”

And then Merle was alone again.

-----------------
Meanwhile, on a distant and uninhabited Bajoran moon, a dark inky nothing felt the light that it sought land somewhere on the other side of an Opening. Far away for anything but it. It couldn’t reach the light, however, because its center, its brain was missing. Without direction, it bubbled and festered and slowly ATE the moon called Derna, angrily waiting for its mind to return so it could move and claim its prize.

On the station nearby, John looked up from his companionable lunch with Garak and Julian, happily playing third wheel, and smiled as he got the slightest sense where he might get something to help him.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t difficult to figure out where the runabouts were docked. The station was full of very helpful diagrams pointing out exactly how to get to the docking ring from the Promenade. John had actually looked them up out of boredom during what he liked to call his “Probation” period. (“Might as well know what I’m missing” he had answered when Sisko asked him why.)

By this point, he had also gained just enough trust that he could probably ask someone...maybe Dax...to fly with him. At the very least he could reasonably get to a runabout without raising too many eyebrows - or nonexistent goo brows, moreover.

Finding a time was even easier. Ben doubtless would have had questions for him if he asked permission, but he was off at an arraignment of some Cardassian military official. Even better - a tiny, microscopic part of him felt bad at saying that but he didn’t know why - it had gone wrong, so he had yet more time to try and get to the docking ring - or even upper Pylon 3 if he wanted. Unfortunately, this also meant that Jadzia would be off the station to collect the fallen captain. In fact, all three of the high ranking officers who tolerated John were on this rescue mission - though, mercy of small mercies, this also meant Worf would be gone.

Luckily enough, he also knew that it was more than likely Garak knew how to fly a runabout, and that the man would be more agreeable than Dax to leaving the station without direct Starfleet approval.

And if that’s all it would take to get to Upper Pylon 3, steal a runabout, and head through the wormhole to find the Light before seeking out the rest of himself, it would be fine. He could ditch this whole “being a person” thing lickety-split. Unfortunately…

“John, are you sure you’re well? You do realize that this is an absolutely idiotic plan, right?” Garak’s genuine concern for him was, in itself, concerning. If his plan was so flawed as to make the only other morally-dubious-but-still-withstandable person on the station think he was ill...maybe he had been going about this the wrong way.

“Forgive me if I’m not entirely up to date on runabout etiquette or what have you but what exactly is so wrong about it?” Garak nearly spit out his tea.

“My good man, aside from several logistical points which I will do you the courtesy of assuming you’ve realized and have thought around...for starters, you are suggesting both of us give up the moderately good standing we have on this station, steal a runabout, thus making us enemies of Starfleet, and go off into the Wormhole which, you may not have noticed, is controlled by an Empire defended by super soldiers.”

“And?”

“Do you have no self preservation instinct...whatsoever?” John was starting to think they were more different than at first glance.

“In a sense.” At this Garak set down his teacup at a practiced motion that only slightly betrayed his annoyance.

“And what sense is that.” This was by far the most sarcastic fluttering of eyelashes John had ever seen and if he weren’t so genuinely confused right now, he would have found it hilarious.

“You know that snack...or, the thing I’ve been chasing for an untold amount of time?” John stopped himself because the former, frankly, sounded too silly and also brought up thoughts of Merle that he didn’t want to analyze. “I believe it’s on the other side of the wormhole. That is the only way I will be able to return to my previous form and finally leave.”

“Well.” Garak’s eyes widened with mock offense “I had no idea your stop here was so terrible. So sorry to inconvenience you.” If he could, John would have found a way to keep a few consciousnesses alive within the Hunger when he ate this world, and Garak’s was chief among them. His sarcasm was just too entertaining.

It wasn’t entirely sarcasm, however, as Garak had just realized the true extent of what this man was. He’d not had any sort of illusions that John was like other humans, obsessed with ‘friendship’ to the point of naivety. However, he’d thought there was a kindred spirit in there for him, a man who prioritized surviving in this new situation and would make sufficient but not over zealous attempts to achieve his goal. Now he realized that, in spite of his nihilism, John was something much more foolishly dangerous. A zealot.

“Regardless,” Garak chose his words a little more carefully, “Perhaps if you simply tell Sisko you want to explore the Gamma Quadrant, maybe find out more about your human nature.” Garak added a smirk to the end of this, adding some light teasing to throw off any hint of manipulation. Sisko would never say yes to this, he wasn’t a fool. And from that point on whatever...previous form plan John had would be heavily supervised.

John didn’t have any time to retort about Garak and his own ‘human nature,’ however, because just then, a rush of people swarmed one of the docking ports, and out of it hobbled one very bruised Benjamin Sisko.

Now or never. John supposed, getting up from his lunch table and making his way to the infirmary, where he knew there would be a chance to speak with the captain.
--
It seemed that in spite of Sisko’s injured limbs and serious face, there wasn’t too much wrong with him. Julian had performed much of the intensive care work on the ship, and Ben had been unconscious from a fight with a now escaped Prisoner of War. Apparently, they had...history.

This was all explained to John as he stood semi-impatiently at the entrance to the Medbay, waiting to see Ben and ask him about the possibility of exploring the Gamma Quadrant, to “get more in touch with his own humanity.” After all, this was one of the only moments that he could talk to Sisko anymore, when he was forced to sit down for medical purposes.

Finally, the nurse let him in, and he tried not to look too intense in his pace towards the biobed. Sure, he wanted to find the Light, but he didn’t want to let people know it. The result was Bashir being a little touched for a few moments that John seemed to care about the captain to the point of being embarrassed about it.

“He’s fine, now, John.” Bashir gave a wide, knowing grin. John didn’t exactly understand what the smile meant, but he was glad the Doctor wasn’t about to be insistent. To his credit, Sisko did look fine. He sat, straight-backed and resolute on the biobed, rolling his shoulder to test it. His eyebrows raised as he saw John approach.

“John.” His voice was low, as if it hadn’t gotten much use in the past hour.

“Captain. How was the mission?” Ben laughs a little at this.

“Oh, fine.” Ben answered, humor thankfully still a small part of his repertoire.

“What happened, exactly?” With this he tried to pepper in that quality he doesn’t understand, making people want to tell him things. Somehow, it works.

“Well, the uh...prisoner I was with was...insistent that I look at... his case. Somehow acknowledge him as free from wrongdoing. He was also insisted that I admit that he and I were friends, or at least two sides of the same coin, with him just being less...Starfleet than I.” As he explained, the tired look in Ben’s eyes suddenly became familiar to John. Something he’d seen in Merle’s eyes the past few Parley sessions. More than that, the kind of look he’d seen in the mirror the days before he ascended.

Not a look that belonged in the eyes of Benjamin Sisko.

“Well, that’s never going to happen.” John moved to stand leaning against the biobed. “After all, that spot in your life is already taken. By me.” He joked. And the tired grin made him decide not to ask what he wanted to right now. Let the Captain rest.

--
The next day he got a strongly worded reprimand for his idea. Even if they did have the resources to use on this plan, - which they didn’t - the planet that John had pointed out had been under general quarantine for nearly six years. A quarantine Ben had put down himself. John now seriously questioned both his and Garak’s intelligence for this idea, because now there was no way he could get to the docking ring.

A ship went to inspect Derna for military use today. It found something odd.

Chapter Text

It’s funny how much can happen to a person in two weeks. First of all, you could suddenly be tossed back into work when you had 5 straight years of having a break by being dead for most of it. Second, you could be going through an even more tumultuous time with your captain/boyfriend because said relation is simultaneously glad that you aren’t dead, terrified that you are gonna be dead again, and angry at you for dying so much. Third, and some elves would argue, most importantly, you could accidentally burn your crewmate’s favorite couch in a fight with some really angry purple guys.

Merle thought more on this as they all sat in a circle, Taako sitting criss-cross applesauce on the charred remains of a couch that would return in 10 months, glaring at him. Well, at least he was getting eye contact now, even if it was out of bruised faces. The twins both sported matching scars on their cheeks, and Lup was currently leaning against the wall after an ill-advised, but admittedly awesome, maneuver where she literally tore a white tube out of one of the soldiers’ necks with her teeth, only to accidentally ingest some of the fluid that came out. It was making her sick. Barry was peering through broken glasses, which had never happened before, and it didn’t help that his eyes had gone unfocused. Magnus was sporting two black eyes, a recently healed split lip, and was nursing several fractures. Davenport was a little better off, but his hands were still bruised from when one of the soldiers tried to remove him from the wheel, and blood was still drying on his face. Even Lucretia had cuts, her jacket this year rigged into a sling for her broken wrist, which Merle was due to heal in an hour when he got his spell slots back.

Merle, to his credit, had a few scrapes himself. His own pair of shiners, and a frighteningly deep gash in his side which Davenport had insisted on bandaging even as Merle was trying to get him to sit down to take care of a fairly bad head wound with his last healing word. None of it felt like enough, after all it kind of felt like his fault for not getting intel with this new “come back from Parley” alive thing. He’d thought about it many times but...each time he sat down to initiate it he couldn’t get that look Davenport had given him out of his head. Those eyes...so sad and so tired.

So he just sat, staring down at the holy symbol in his lap, not as much of a fan of eye contact as he was a couple weeks ago, hating himself for not being able to say no to that face anymore.

“So. That happened.” The ship was currently in a gaseous nebula, as they’d realized a few days ago that they could avoid the scanners of these purple people in there. It had taken a while to get the last barrage off their tails and then find the nebula itself.

“Let’s just focus on getting our bearings back.” Davenport sighed, having brought navigational data and a link-up to the sensors with him just in case the purple guys decided to go nebula surfing or something. “Focus on what we’ve learned.”

“Okay.” Taako put his hands together. “Yeah, let’s do that. We’re up against what seems like a fuckin space Navy of giant purple scalies with some kind of drug addiction or something going by Lup’s reaction to what we thought were tubes of something else entirely.” They’d had a running pool of bets the past two weeks on what was in those tubes. It greatly increased their morale and the “piss” bet did nothing to flag Lup’s absolutely insane decision to rip it out with her teeth. “This army has nothing to do with the other enemy who we know is doing some weird, probs mondo creepy humanoid shit somewhere else in this giant fucking universe. We have a bunch of injuries, we’re down a couch and Oh! Yeah! We have no fucking clue where the light of creation is. Did I miss anything?” Taako was standing now, shorts stained with charred couch remains.

“We can’t afford to lose here because there’s no way this won’t exponentially increase the hunger’s powers and make it damn near impossible to get out for the rest of this hellish journey?” Barry had actually raised his hand, the little nerd, and Taako angrily high fived it all the same.

“Okay, yes, Taako and Barry, excellent summary of our current state of affairs right now. Thank you So Much. Anything else to add?” Davenport had the bridge of his nose in his fingers, nursing a headache.

“Uhhh…” Magnus meekly raised a hand now “Well, I’ve figured out they fight like...weirdly well.”

“We already knew that, Mango.” Lup mumbled.

“Yeah, no but I mean like. Like I think they’re part of some like program or something cuz they have this like rigid fighting style that’s still super intense. They also seem to be pretty regimented with their teamwork…”

“Point being?”

“Well...not much…” He trailed off awkwardly. “But! I think I might have figured out how to get rid of those invisibility things they have. There’s these things on their armor, these lil’ squares. I think that shorts it out, which might help in the long run.”

“But it’s not just the same ship.” Lucretia spoke up, “That kind of ship...doesn’t look like it’s gonna be alone here. I-” She broke off, looking nervously from Davenport to Taako to Merle “I don’t think we can make it through just on...this.”

“Fucking exactly!” Taako compounded. “What, and pray tell me Cap’n’port, the fuck are we supposed to do about that? Do we even know what we’re-”

“Taako.” Lup stepped in, though the effect was thrown off by her swaying. “That’s enough. You’re not helping.”

“I’m just-”

“STOP.” The room was dead quiet. Twin arguments were rare, but they all knew to avoid them. They also knew that if they did happen, things were going wrong. Well, that was already kind of obvious. Piss bets aside, morale was low. They were starting to get on each others’ nerves and normally that wouldn’t be too big a deal, they could give each other some space but here...at one point, the bond engine had flickered. Flickered. This was going really poorly and it was-It was-

It was Merle’s problem to fix.

“But he’s kind of right. He and Lucretia both are.” Everyone looked at him, and he met all their stares levelly. “We need more intel. I know a way to get that. I say I go back in.” Davenport looked horrified.
Well, too bad.

“Merle- you can’t. Who’s gonna heal us?” That was, perhaps, the first and last time Magnus had ever said that in earnest.

“Dav knows a lot about medicine himself, and so does Barry. Besides, I can get back, I think.” He honestly hadn’t expected that much resistance to his idea. Maybe some from Lucretia and Davenport but...

“‘I think’ doesn’t speak of confidence compadre.” Even Taako sounded concerned. “You know you’re not like...you don’t have to do this.”

“Kinda do, though.” He smiled kind of sadly, but walked down to his normal spot in a way that brooked no argument.

He didn’t even look back at Davenport to see him start, for the first time in front of everyone, to cry.

--
John suddenly stopped laughing, almost forgetting what joke or comical misunderstanding Julian had even made. He was sitting with the assembled senior staff at after dinner drinks and suddenly, he saw something. Or rather, someone.

“Captain?”

“Yes, John?” Sisko said, humor still evident in his voice.

“Remember when you said you wanted to see me conduct a ‘Parley’?”

“Yes.” Sisko’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“Well you just might get to.”

Chapter Text

In which Sisko finds something out about Parley that he didn’t want to know.

Sisko paced around the Ward Room, trying not to be angry at John for being so infuriatingly calm, staring at the seemingly empty seat across from him and face slimmed by the light of the table. He’d been making what seemed like small talk on the way in, asking how Merle’s year had been. He’d seemed put off by the answer.

“So, Merle.” John started pleasantly, folding his hands as if this were some normal meeting. “To what do I owe the pleasure.”

Merle couldn’t see Sisko pacing, but he could sort of tell that there was someone in the room besides himself and John. Two someones, seemingly, because even as John got distracted watching something move back and forth, he seemed more distracted and maybe even scared of two people sitting at the other end of the table.

Those two people were Kira and Odo.

“Well I was hoping we could do our normal thing. You ask me a question, I give you some information, I ask you one, maybe you kill me, maybe you don’t.”

“Haha. I suppose that’s as good a plan as any.” There was something in the way John smiled as he said that, even though Ben didn’t hear what it was in answer to, that made him feel sick to his stomach. It was something that he’d seen a few times now, a grim grin that popped up at seemingly innocuous moments and reminded them all that John was - by his own admission - not really a good person, much as they all might try to change that. Maybe that was a weakness of Federation sensibilities.

Oh if only those sensibilities knew what he was, like Merle did.

“Well, what’s your question, then?” Merle asked, and suddenly John was actually taking him in. He looked pretty banged up, and seemed to have a large bandage around his waist, needing to be changed pretty soon. He also seemed to be covered in flecks of white liquid. His eyes, which had steadily been getting more and more tired over the past few years, now looked kind of dead. He should have used his question for something else but...maybe something had rubbed off on him. Call it morbid curiosity.

“What happened to you?” Merle looked surprised by that, by the slightest indication that John could care about him. Not only that, but Benjamin stopped pacing and just. Stared at him.

“You sure you don’t wanna...I dunno...ask where the light is?”

“Would you tell me?”

“Fair point. Well uh...A lot, I guess. We got attacked by these purple scaley guys who either piss through their necks or are addicted to drugs. I still go with piss bet but-”

“Purple scaley guys?” Where had John heard that before? He looked over to Odo, who looked fairly surprised himself.

“The Jem’Hadar? Huh. I wonder which iteration they’re facing.” Merle was facing off against the Dominion?

“Where are you?” Again, John’s curiosity had started to outweigh his strategic mind somewhat.

“We zapped in near some kind of Goo planet.” Luckily, Merle also had an unstrategic mind. John repeated this back to the others and noticed as Odo’s back stiffened. Funny when the Goo-Man didn’t have a literal spine. Odo started whispering to Kira, obviously trying to make sense of this without John knowing. Ben leaned against the wall, deep in thought.

“Well...uh...what’s your question, then?” Merle took note of how much John’s eyes flicked to where the people he was scared of. He might as well try, right?

“What info can you give me about those purple guys, huh?”

John relayed the message. Kira and Odo bickered further, Odo obviously not trusting Merle with this information while Kira trusted the fact that these people seemed to hate John. Finally, Ben cleared his throat.

“Can he interact with a Padd?”

“Probably, but I don’t know if he can take it back with him.” John didn’t say Because I’m about to kill this man. That seemed to be enough for Ben, however.

“Odo, please make up a pad of intel on the Jem’Hadar and their methods for...level 3 security clearance or lower. Civilian information.” Odo opened and then closed his lipless mouth, leaving Kira in his wake to continue staring ominously at John.

20 minutes later, Odo was back with a Padd which was placed in front of the chair where Merle supposedly was. Everyone but John could see the information being scrolled through on the screen but no one lifting it. Sisko slightly regretted not letting Jadzia sit in as well. John also regretted that Sisko had made that decision.

Merle, meanwhile, frantically absorbed as much as he could of the information on the Padd. Brain suddenly and miraculously free for things like troop movements, strategies, one or two countermeasures that have worked, intel from a number of people about the interior of a prison camp, AND a theoretical way to synthesize the drug they apparently needed to live. Come to think of it...Taako was a transmutation wizard...so if he could give him the recipe he could probably…

“So, are your questions answered?” John was grinning in self-satisfaction.

“Uh...yeah, John. I think they are.” Merle, shocked as he was, was a bit distracted and still reading the PADD. He didn’t notice that John had stood up, nor that his arm was now outstretched, eyes filled with a dark glee that was only missing the darkness of the Hunger. Luckily for Merle, Sisko did notice this, grabbing John’s wrist rather tightly.

“Captain, don’t worry, I’m only ending this Parley session.” John said, thinking that was reassuring, as he continued to try and kill Merle in spite of the hand gripping his arm. Though, strangely, none of his powers seemed to be activating. Why wouldn’t his arm summon up the power within it?

Oh.

Oh No.

This moment of distraction and panic allowed for two things. First, it allowed Odo to walk over and produce a pair of handcuffs from the pocket he had created in his goo...ness. Second, when handcuffed John collapsed from the shock of his discovery, Parley was ended automatically as it had been last time.

--

When John woke up, it was in the Brig. Quite honestly, where he should have gone right off the bat. Kira and Ben were seated there, alongside Bashir. They were all arguing about something but suddenly stopped when they noticed that John was awake.

“Shall I assume, then, that I’ve overstayed my welcome?” He opened, voice croaky and unused.

“No, but you are going to be kept in here until we’re sure you aren’t a danger.”

“I’m going to be in here forever, then.” Ben didn’t find John’s dark humor quite as amusing anymore. “Quite the inconvenience.”

“That’s to be expected after the stunt you pulled.” Kira grumbled to herself. “What were you even thinking?”

“This is just how I always ended Parley.” John shrugged. Ben sighed.

“What happened, John?” Now that was certainly a question. One wherein honest answer would likely result in actually being imprisoned forever.

“I...suppose I fell back on old habits.” It was technically true.

“And what exact guarantee do I have that you won’t fall back on these bad habits ever again?”

“Not much, except that I physically can’t. My powers are gone, Captain.” John smiled sadly at that.

He was in a holding cell for the next two weeks.

Chapter Text

Benny- Ben- Sisko felt like he was losing it. He didn’t know what reality was anymore. If he turned around, he was back in the 20th century, having completely forgotten that his life on DS9 was anything more than a short story written by a man desperately dreaming of progress. Neither world had the stability of knowing what would happen next. What if he fell into a dream while on a mission or during a briefing? What if while he was walking in the street and a daydream got him run over or, worse, made him look just off-kilter enough for those cops to kill him?

That was the other thing. Even when he was solidly in either world, he didn’t want to be. Sure, when he was here he was in a war and hearing news of dead friends each day, considering the possibility that he might die or resign from Starfleet any day now. But… he was away from the war as a poor vet writer in a world that kept saying “we aren’t ready for you to have hope,” not knowing what he was supposed to do, what would get him to the point where he would be listened to. Having to hope that someone at a higher rung wouldn’t be a coward for once in his puny life. At least on the station, he knew that part of his culture’s history was over, and that he was respected as an equal - a superior, actually, by his crew. At least on the station, he knew the people he worked with were honorable men and women. He could easily bank on Odo, who looked like a smoothed out version on Pabst, to be a changeling with a staunch moral code. None of them looked at him with the visceral discomfort of the ‘well meaning white liberal.’

But the other thing that was bothering him, the part of his hallucinatory ordeal that didn’t seem to fit, was the way John kept showing up. Sure, the rest was a trauma he’d have to be in counseling for, but none of it made sense in the context of John.

At first, he’d been innocuous. Just another guy in a suit standing in line for a paper. Sisko had barely noticed him then. Sure, one of the men chatting with Pabst looked kind of familiar, but there were a dozen suits moving through that office and they all had the same bored grey faces. One with odd eyes made no difference. Then, there was the grim-faced witness to the officers waiting outside his office. Looking directly at them all, but doing nothing. Not affecting the world in any meaningful way but there he was, so why did it mean something?

It had become strange once he got uptown. New York City wasn’t segregated legally but it was an unspoken thing - and sometimes a spoken one - that you rarely saw people that pale around here, and definitely not looking on with a vague curiosity as a man preached right outside the subway station. But the Father had started talking directly to Benny so he hadn’t had much time to process it.

From that point on he had started taking more note when the man would show up. A head in the kitchen at Eva’s Diner, a face on the subway, a figure fading into the background as the merits of his story about a black captain had been scrutinised through the eyes of a man more concerned with “will it sell.” It tended to be when he had the thought of the future, of the world he had created. And the pale man didn’t fit in there.

The real kicker had come while he had been dancing with Cassie, flashing between his world and that of his Captain Sisko. While he had collapsed onto the piano, Benny had seen a mirage of John, sitting calmly as he watched them dance. But...no...John was in prison. John was...who was John? Did he even know that as Sisko?

So now he stood, now that Benny Russell had gone to sleep and dreamed of being on the station again, right outside of John’s cell. Kasidy and Bashir were waiting outside, based on the promise that if he had when he was done, he would come to the infirmary and be put under for testing. He needed to know.

“Why captain, what a pleasant surprise!” John was far too happy to see him. “Pull up a chair and let’s chat. I would offer you some refreshment but-” he paused to laugh “I’m afraid my access to a replicator is limited.”

“John.” His voice was choked with fatigue and uncertainty. “I’m not in the mood for this.” With that, John straightened up, face more somber.

“Well, sorry. Two weeks without visitors does things to a person. I’m afraid I’m in a rather foul mood.” He complained by way of apology. “So, if not for my company, why did you come down here?”

“I need to ask you some things.” John straightened up even further, face even more serious.

“About what? Have we gotten some contact from Merle’s ship?”

“No. That’s not it.” Sisko said quietly.

“Then I really don’t know what use I could be to you, Captain.” John’s look was earnest, but Ben had to know.

“It’s about when Merle contacted you. You seemed to be having hallucinations of him. I was wondering if that was an ability of yours, his, or...both.”

“It’s only his power, as far as I know. Even if it wasn’t I don’t...have mine anymore.” John frowned down at his hands. “Why do you ask?” That was quite the question, and Ben really didn’t know if he wanted to answer it truthfully.

“I thought maybe the same had been happening to me.” He answered softly. John’s grey eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I...I’ve been having hallucinations. Of myself and the rest of the crew as people centuries in my culture’s past. But I’m also keep seeing this figure. One that doesn’t belong in the dream at all, who doesn’t interact with anything correctly. And that figure…”

“Is me?” John guessed.

“Yes.”

“And you were wondering if I had caused these hallucinations?”

“Yes.”

“Well.” John grinned uneasily. “I’m sorry to say it’s just not that simple. Though, I do have a theory as to why I’m appearing like that.”

“And what is that?” Ben’s voice was tight, quiet, and tired, and that did something to where John suddenly had a heart.

“It’s because that’s how you think of me. If everyone else gets fit into the world the way they would, but I keep popping up in weird ways, it means that your brain can’t find a place to fit me in. Makes sense when you think about it. I’m from another universe, and I don’t know how I even fit into this world. Much less how I fit into one from its past. Your brain couldn’t find a way either, so it’s just peppering me into the dream.” That could make sense, but it then begged the question of why Benny Russell still needed John in his world. What function did the silent witness of his oppression serve to the man walking in the path of the prophets?

“But Garak doesn’t fit easily into this world and he simply got excluded from the dream altogether. That doesn’t fit your theory.”
“Well maybe Garak just doesn’t matter as much to you.” John answered smugly, lacing a hidden meaning into the phrasing that made the last of Sisko’s hair stand on end.

“Now wait just a-”

“I take it as a compliment, Benny.” John laughed a little, but Sisko was thrown off by the informal address.

“What did you just call me?”

“Benny. I called you-”

“Benny” Suddenly the dream phased out and he was back in his apartment in Harlem, lying in his bed, Cassie’s lovely face just a few inches from his own. “I have to get up for work but come by later and tell me how it goes with your publisher, alright?” She smiled, and suddenly Benny didn’t really care how it went.

“I will.” He said, voice thick with sleep.

“Good.” She kissed him, and then got up to leave. That kiss mark almost felt like a burn, however, as he remembered that his dream had put the pale man in the vocal part of Cassie right before he woke up, rather than Kasidy. What an odd thing. Surely it was random. Surely it meant absolutely nothing.

--

Benny Russell saw the pale man three more times. The first was as they came up with the dream premise to make his story more palatable. It made sense, as John had been talking about dreams last night. Simple mental connection.

The second was more troubling. When the cops had been beating him into the ground, he looked into the sea of concerned faces. None doing anything to help, except for his Cassie, desperately trying to rush toward him and pull the officers off. In the inactive witnesses, though, there was that same grey face, those same grey eyes, watching on without shame, but with idle curiosity and light pity.

The third was in the ambulance. Sisko was lying in a cot, and on either side of him were the Priest and John. The ambulance was moving through space. He had just been told he was the dreamer and the dream. It was brief but he was there. He was the watcher. And the watched.

--

Benjamin Sisko once again stood outside of John’s cell, this time accompanied by a peeved Odo who had already been told in no uncertain terms that Ben was planning on going through with this and there was no objection he could raise that would change that. Sisko let down the forcefield.

“You’re free to return to your quarters, John.” The man in question was eyeing Sisko suspiciously.

“What have I done to merit this new trust, Captain? Surely my insights on your hallucinations can’t have been that helpful.”

“No, but I’ve realized that you don’t necessarily pose as much of a threat if you can’t figure out this world enough to use a phaser.”

“I resent that. I’m a quick study.”

“Maybe so, but I’d much rather have you as a factor by continuing to get you acclimated to your own humanity and keep an eye on you that way than keep you locked up.”

“Fine, then. Your funeral.” John joked as he slipped past Sisko to get himself to a turbolift.

“One more thing. I had to give your quarters to a visiting dignitary. You’ll be moved into a room in habitat ring A, subsection 12. We have a spare room there”

“Oh? That sounds like I’ll be sharing those quarters.” This was the part that Odo hated most of all.

“You will. With me.” John froze in place. “You’ll be in Jake’s old room.”

“Why is that?”

“So I can monitor your progress more closely.”

“Sounds unfair.”

“Yes.” Sisko’s voice was dark and dangerous. “It is.”

Chapter Text

Several weeks later, Captain Sisko entered his quarters, very intent on collapsing on the couch before ordering something from the replicator that tasted nowhere near as good as what he could make with his own two hands, and then getting immediately back to work after his two seconds of sitting with his eyes closed. 

He did not intend to walk into his quarters only to see his very serious partner who, in his exhaustion, he had forgotten would be returning to the station, laughing on the couch he had planned to collapse into, with a man who he still wasn’t sure was safe, with a bottle of wine between them . The two looked up to him and smiled, pausing their conversation. 

“And then he- oh hi Ben.” Kasidy smiled wide, the kind of smile so full of humor that it always set him uncertain if he was being laughed with or at. It was almost always the former, but at this moment he had the sneaking suspicion that the story she was telling was about him. 

John, meanwhile, was definitely laughing at him. He always was, but it was a different kind. Where before it was merely smiling with his eyes like a cat facing a very unaware canary, here it was the drunk, conspiratorial smile of someone who had just heard a very embarrassing story. It was almost a human smile, a human man of odd predisposition nestled into the geometric couch cushions. It was certainly more a human man than had been seen out of John in the past few weeks, if Ben could really say he’d seen the man between his work and his attempts to reckon with his dreams. 

He was almost human, but not quite. 

“Kas, may I speak to you for a moment?” Sisko tried to put on his best ‘definitely very calm but also so so tired’ voice, and she got the hint, following him to his room with only the smallest eye rolling. 

“Yes?” She asked with the kind of humor that told him she wanted an explanation before her amusement became annoyance. 

“Why are you getting drunk with a dangerous being who claims to be, probably is from another universe and has reportedly still not gained too much of an appreciation for human life?” His tone, to his credit, was very forcibly even.

“I don’t know. Why is a dangerous being living in your quarters?” 

“That’s different, I’m on watch with him when he’s around, we’re talking but I’m watching, and I’m not letting myself be vulnerable around him.” 

“Really?” Her voice became dangerously entertained. “Because I was almost certain you still sleep here, unless you really have moved into your office. Besides, I am fully rested and back to a normal, sane work rotation, unlike some people I could mention.”

“That’s-” It was a good argument. “Kas, I have-”

“A lot on your plate. I know. John, the war, the station, Bajor, Jake. Look, Ben, I’m not saying I don’t get that you have responsibilities. Or that you should neglect them. What I am saying, what you know, is that there is more than one way to be vulnerable, and you are right now, and that’s okay. You need to rest. You need to unwind.” Her palm felt warm against his face, and her voice had gone all soft and kind. 

“You’re...probably right.” Kasidy was often right. 

“You know I actually came in here with the intention of telling you that, sealing you in your room, and then leaving, unless you agreed, and then, well, that’s what the wine was for. But you weren’t here and I ended up shouting at John.” She laughed a little, as Sisko laid his head on her shoulder. “He made some offhand joke about eagerly observing how a human could be at his worst, and I just laid into him, asking him where he got off being like that to you , and did he even know what the ordeal with the dreams had done to you . I think he might be a tiny bit scared of me now.”

“Now that I would like to see.” Sisko murmured. “What changed the interaction?”

“Well his first reply, after several minutes of silence, was something along the lines of finally having a compelling reason that you had stayed so seemingly stalwart all these years. I took the compliment.” She laughed again. “And then...very seriously, very surprisingly… he thanked me for it. He was already a little drunk off synthehol I think. And… then he asked me if I had any stories about you… and it went on from there.”

“He thanked you?”

“For… being a person who cared about you. He said it was a reminder of something. I didn’t pry. That’s your job.”

“I suppose it is.” Ben muttered, now very confused and too tired to interpret those statements. “And I should probably go do that, at least, if I’m not working on these projections for the Admiral.” He stood up, a little shaky, but still upright, and walked to the door. 

“I’ll be in your corner. And besides,” Kasidy walked next to him, interlocking their fingers and putting deeply ironic humor into her voice “This is nothing more dangerous than getting drunk at Quark’s.” Ben chuckled despite himself. 

He was still chuckling when they walked into the living room to see John, dazed beyond his drunkenness, smiling wide. “Oh Captain Sisko! And Captain Yates! Come in.” The man gestured to the empty space in front of him. “We have a guest!” John let out a giggle. 

Ben stopped chuckling.

Chapter Text

When Merle initiated Parley, he expected a lot of things. He expected John to be smugly staring at him, asking how his information had helped. He expected John to be menacing, because John was always menacing. He kind of expected - hoped, if he was being cruel - that John would be locked up by this point by whoever had taken him in, if more for their own safety than anything else. 

What he didn’t expect John to be was happy. Sure, he could be smug in the aforementioned way, eager as he gained the advantage in chess, or smile in tight politeness while he pretended their meetings could end any other way. But this was none of those. This was a different kind of happy, a lazy kind of drunk happy that Merle distantly remembered seeing on the faces of his teammates back on the beach. Or. Maybe it was Legato. He couldn’t distinguish them all that well nowadays, just a cluster of times they were all close enough to forgetting what was going on. This was not the point. The point was that he was here for more information and his informant was drunk. 

“Merle!” John exclaimed, eyes brightening from their haze, “It’s been so long! What’s new?” The question felt...genuine, for once. This was more troubling than anything else. 

“Hi, John, I’m back for uh. Hah. Another look at one of those cool information pad thingies. Is there, uh. Any chance the people you’re with are in the room.” Unlike last time, John’s eyes weren’t trained on anyone in the room but him, and lazily so at that. 

“Oh Yes! The Dominion! How’s that been going?” Apparently, contrary to all evidence Merle would say he had collected as the holder of 1,999 party points, John was a Social Drunk. 

“Well, better than it was. We tried to strike a bargain with some, we were able to synthesize the weird white stuff but, they weren’t the kind to bargain, it turned out. The, uh, rest of the strategy guide did work well for us, though.”

“Oh that’s good. That’s good. Should that count as my question? I really wanna know how you’ve been Merle.” John slumped forward a bit, apparently also an emotional drunk. Even like this, however, he towered over the dwarf, weakly reaching forward, and then letting his arm drop.

“I’ve been. I’ve been fine, John.” Merle gave the kind of smile he always gave drunk friends. If he could really count John among them was a thought for a later day. “Though is one of your, uh, associates here?”

“Well, the captain is here, but, ah,” he paused to giggle a little, “He’s a little indisposed at the moment. He’ll probably be back in a moment or two, and can give you your informa- Oh Captain Sisko! And Captain Yates! Come in.” John giggled again as he gestured towards Merle for the sake of someone - or was it several someones - he couldn’t see. “Oh uh..haha...I think he’d like a little bit more information on the Jem’Hadar, nothing classified, I’m certain. Certainly nothing a captain couldn’t handle.” John added such odd emphasis to that, almost flirtation if Merle was reading that right. 

“Really just edge of border stuff and any advice about the composition of your weapons, if you can get it.” Merle hastily said. He watched John, neck arched over the back of a couch, relay his request. 

“He says he has outdated information on where you will and won’t find them given people don’t cross over much these days but he’ll see what he can do. On the second note...apparently weapon composition is a whole thing in this universe.”

“Can you tell him it’s just for a crash course to help us better apply the advice he gave us last time?”

“Mm. It’s still a no. And. Oh. Apparently if he didn’t know me better he’d think this was espionage.”

“How well... does he know you?”

“Is that your question?” John laughed. “Because I think you should go in for more intel than this.” John took a pad that had been left on the couch and handed it to Merle. It had a map, marking off danger zones, which they were apparently very near to the edge of, as was the Light if he remembered clearly. The map even included the location of some kind of… it looked kind of like a tunnel. Merle zoomed in closer. A “Worm-Hole”, similar to interplanar travel in many ways, aside from travel being assisted by non-corporeal beings that sounded a lot like gods. Merle thought about Pan, then went on reading. 

“No, I think I’m good on intel. Do you not want to answer?” John sighed.

“He doesn’t know me well. At least. Not as well as you. Probably for the best.” His voice was very quiet, and he suddenly looked very fragile. John looked behind himself for a moment, and said “Oh come now, you know I’m right, Ben.” Merle almost wanted to hear more despite himself. Almost. But John was distracted, and his hold on the Parley was already even more tenuous than usual. Within an instant, Merle was back on his ship. 

A ship that was hurtling towards the surface of a planet at breakneck speeds.

Chapter Text

In his reading on Cardassians, and his passing conversations with Garak, John had learned many things. One was that they were very fond of heat and dark, to the point where being on a station like this was painful. All too well, now, John understood these predispositions as he tried to drink his coffee through a splitting headache. Part of him knew that he should go to Julian, the man doubtless had some kind of hangover cure, medical or otherwise, but he didn’t feel like being on the receiving end of too much pity today. 

“ Raktajino not suiting you this morning, John?” John stood corrected. Pity would be better than this. 

“Hardly, Constable.” Odo smugly walked around to sit across from him, thin slit of a mouth upturned in that way that told you, without any room for debate, that he saw your suffering and enjoyed it. 

“I’ve heard from the chief that eggs tend to help with hangovers. He has some recipe for it programmed into his replicator, perhaps you could ask him for it.” He said simply.

“Whatever do you mean, Constable?” John forced the formality to convey his vexation with the world. 

“Simply that someone still getting used to having veins again should maybe better monitor his blood alcohol content next time.” Odo changed a select part of himself to become his own cup of Raktajino, as though taunting John. 

“How did you know I-.”

“I’ve pulled enough drunks out of Quark’s in the past to know the symptoms of a hangover. You, specifically, however, gave yourself away not only by your headache but also by your not going to Doctor Bashir for assistance, despite you two being friends, and by being in the replimat rather than in your shared quarters with the Captain, both of which imply a sort of embarrassment about the origins of your symptoms.” He said it all so matter of factly that a lesser man might miss how proud he clearly was at his deductions.

“How quaint. Is that all?” He burbled into his coffee. 

“No.” Odo took a polite sip of himself. “That is, I was merely going to say that I, too, once had to get used to a human body, and did, at one point, become entranced by the numbing effects of alcohol. I would advise against it, if nothing else because I respect Captain Sisko and would not want his ‘insights on humanity’ wasted because you are too drunk to hear them.” All at once, Odo had shown concern for his well being and dismissed that that was what he was doing. It was something to admire in the man, any other day.

“I had no idea we were so similar, Odo.” John muttered this petulantly, slightly relishing the grimace it spread across that unwaverable approximation of a face. 

“John, I may not have respect for every protocol of politeness in my line of work, but I would appreciate a little more decorum than that.” Odo deadpanned. At least, John thought it was deadpan as the Constable reabsorbed the cup and made to leave. “Either way, I would suggest that you go to Bashir for his hangover cure, the Chief is fairly protective of his own. I would also recommend you not try Quark’s any time soon, as he’s in the habit of taking advantage of the easily drunk. Have a nice day.” And with that, he was left again to his miserable spicy coffee. 

Part of him was curious about O’Brien’s hangover cure but agreed with Odo that the chances of the engineer giving it to him were still slim. Especially at this time of day. Instead, he would have to bite the bullet and go to Julian about this. 

He ambled from the replimat, still thinking up exactly what excuses he would make, when he saw a very disconcerted Kira entering the Bajoran temple, seemingly having just gotten back from some sojourn to Bajor. Curiosity piqued, and because he knew the temples to be dark and consistently climate controlled, he followed her inside. 

She approached the dais, and murmured something under her breath in what sounded similar to Bajoran. It sounded almost like a plea. John stood there, unsure how or where to move. The Major reached out for the box atop the dais, but pulled her hand back. She stood there for another few minutes in silence while John tried and failed to will himself out of the room because this was Very Clearly a Private Moment. Then, she turned on her heel and steeled herself before running headlong into him. 

“John! What the hell are you doing here?” Her eyes turned from numb to murderous in a moment. 

“You looked troubled, I wanted to know what was wrong.” It was somewhat true, though he was less of an altruist than it implied. 

“Why?”

“Curious, I suppose.” He shrugged. He’d seen people - mostly Quark - try to lie to her before. It did not end well. 

“Oh, great. Well, be curious somewhere else, I’m not in the mood.” She waved him off and turned back to the dais.

“Oh, of course. Though. I would like to know how your recent trip to Bajor went?” He noticed her shoulders tense. “Not well, I take it.”

“No, John, Obviously not well. I...I discovered some things that. Change how I see someone I thought I knew. Change a lot about my life, actually.” Ah. 

“Not measuring up to your expectations, then? Less heroic or self sacrificial?” Her head snapped around.

“How-?”

“I haven’t spoken to you much Major, and that fact alone might tell me that you have a very developed sense of morality. You are under no illusions, as far as you know. I have...crossed paths with a number of such people, and each has had a situation where they have been surprised that they still had rose-colored glasses to shatter.” Her back was still a tense line. “I also know what it is like to see someone morally disappointed.”

“And what was your advice to those people?” Her voice was even. It did not allow him an inch but it also did not push him further back. 

“At first? That in the grand scheme of things, morality really doesn’t matter.” Kira laughed.

“And once they slapped you across the face for that?” They never did, because John found them willing and broken, but the Major didn’t need to know that. 

“That people can do anything if given the proper motivation.” He had meant that differently at the time, meant to show them the truth that existence had hidden from them all. Kira also didn’t need to know this. 

“You know what makes it all so much worse? Someone terrible, worse than you, sent me on this whole fact finding mission promising he would ‘rid me of any barriers from the truth.” An interesting parallel, nothing more. 

“And?”

“Part of me almost thinks, in a way completely different than he intended, he was right.” 

Now that was concerning.

Chapter Text

Merle stumbled back into consciousness, blurry vision coming into focus. He could have sworn he’d died on impact, but evidently he’d been wrong, as they weren’t on the pristine bridge of the Starblaster. No such luck. In fact, the Starblaster is looking even further from pristine than last he’d checked. Not quite the destruction they’d faced on the Judge Plane, but far from good. 

Crawling out of the near-wreck, Merle saw more of their situation and forget ‘far from good.’ good was about ten planar systems back. More than that if he were honest. Not only was their craft in bad enough condition that only the Light, which they weren’t even close to, could fix it, but they were down personnel. Magnus had beefed it a few weeks ago, after a particularly harsh hit to the back of the head. It had taken all of them to finally get the last purple soldier off their ship after that. 

To his left, he saw Lup kneeling over her brother, speaking softly, likely explaining what happened and taking his arcane focus. Even after all this time, both still did this after the other’s death whenever they could. Merle couldn’t decide if it was cute or creepy. Probably a little of both. 

Lucretia seemed knocked out, but clutching to life. Barry was patching her up to the best of his ability, but his glasses had long since been vaporized and all he had was the last of the medical supplies they’d traded for a week ago. Merle tried to reach out to the plane, find some god to barter with like he usually did when Pan wasn’t a presence, but the ‘deities’ in this planar system were a bit more capricious. It wasn’t that they couldn’t heal his friends, it was just a trouble making them want to, and they really didn’t want to today. 

Davenport was sitting on the nose of his broken ship, looking up at the rocks of the cavern they’d dropped into with tired eyes and a bloody nose. Merle knew he was calculating how fast they could feasibly repair their ship and get back to looking for the light. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts he didn’t even notice when Merle sidled up beside him, not until the dwarf put a hand on his shoulder and he jumped. 

“Merle! You-” 

“Woah, woah, Cap’n.” Merle tried his best to smile. “You’re good. Just settle down.” 

“I thought you were- I was sure you would be dead.” 

“I’m just full of surprises this time around.”

“I. I guess so.” Something broke in Davenport’s voice.

Merle put his forehead to the gnome’s, tried to transfer what comfort he could to his captain. He thought it was working, until Davenport disentangled himself abruptly. 

“Sorry.” 

“No, Merle, look.” There was a small group of humanoids coming out of a nearby cave, emaciated and damaged, and very suspicious. Their leader seemed to be a man with shoulder length brown fur-hair, and a series of tattoos running down his face and arms. 

“Who are you? Why are you here?” The man spoke with the anger of someone who is rarely anything else. 

“Travelers, nothing more.” Merle answered vaguely, slipping off the nose of the craft. Who knew if these people had space travel? Vaguery was the best he could do. “This is uh…” He realized too late that this would also necessitate coming up with a cover story. 

“We don’t get travelers, but you’re definitely off worlders.” He rolled his eyes “Who are you.” 

“We’re a group of explorers-” Davenport started into his whole schpeal but was summarily interrupted.

“Oh, great. More ‘explorers.’ Here to remove more of our forces from us? What better way to end up victorious than just send soldiers into someone else’s war, right ? I should shoot you where you stand.” Before he could, the man was trapped in unseen binding. Merle and Davenport turned around to see a very pissed off Lup, dual wielding her and her brothers’ arcane foci, one glowing with the aura of the ‘Hold Person’ spell.

“I would suggest you not do that.” Her voice was dark. The three other soldiers went for their weapons, but stopped when Lup’s other focus crackled with fire magic. Over the near-century, her reaction to her brother dying hadn’t so much lessened as been transmuted. Where before she would explode in a flame that took down all around her, now she shot one straight comet through the next five obstacles, fire bottled up and turned into a much colder, more efficient kind of destruction. “Now, one of your lackeys is going to explain who the others are, and then answer the very simple questions my Captain has, or I will kill all of you. Is that clear?” 

They nodded, almost stumbling over one another to answer her until suddenly, they were all interrupted by a weak voice and an elven figure stepping by its sister’s side.  

“Lulu what the fuck, why did you take my staff?” Lup faltered for a moment at the voice, caught between focused, grieving anger and the absence of that grief. However, it wasn’t enough to break concentration. 

“Don’t call me that.” She maintained her dangerous voice, “Just take mine and ready magic missile. Kind of in the middle of something.”

“Ugh. Fine.” Taako caught the offered focus with a casual grace that belied the fact he was swaying slightly. 

___

An hour later, they had their answers and a direction in which to head. Until around five years ago, all of the denizens of this planet, the Ennis and the Nol-Ennis, were prisoners, sent here for their refusal to stop fighting an ancient war. Their punishment for their wrath had been to eternally fight said war, never able to die and be released. Needless to say, the parallels were uncomfortable. One day, a group of spacefarers fell to the planet, shot down by the same defense grid that had disabled the Starblaster. One of them died on impact, and was revived by the same microbes that had revived Taako, and indeed all of the denizens of this planet. The other three had offered to get all of them off of the planet if the two factions could cooperate long enough for their rescue party to arrive. They would be allowed to die off on separate planets. The peace talks had dissolved almost immediately. Eventually, the group was rescued, but their physician discovered that those revived by the microbes could only survive on the planet. This included the dead off-worlder, who had decided to be left behind.

Left to her own devices, the woman had set about trying to end the fighting. She had been a spiritual leader before she arrived, but also seemed perfectly accustomed to roughing it. No one paid her much mind, as she mostly approached with words and wisdom, neither of which did anything on the field of battle. Eventually, an Ennis joined her. And then a Nol-Ennis. And then a few more from each side. Not enough to make much of a difference. In order to be a part of this new group, you had to disavow violence, and that was untenable.

Until the Light of the Prophets came. That was what the woman had called it, some aspect of her faith, though even she did not seem to fully understand its origins, it being more powerful than “the other orbs.” With it, she and her band of pacifists had been able to lure more and more people away from fighting. Give up your weapons, and you could have fresh food again, warmth again. A petty bribe. Now there were only a few left carrying out the war. Four on the side of the Nol-Ennis, four on the side of the Ennis. Though, one of them said with a gleam in his eye, it was said the Ennis only had three now. 

Hearing that last bit, the crew of the Starblaster had looked amongst themselves, nodded, and asked directions to this peaceful encampment. 

Which was how they arrived at the camp, faced by two dozen hardened warriors trying very hard not to fall back on instinct, and one dark skinned woman in the garb of a priestess, if incredibly dirtied, smiling serenely. 

“Hello, my name is Opaka Sulan. I assume you’ve crashed here?” 

“Uh. Yes.” Davenport croaked out, trying not to make it too obvious how surprised he was at the woman’s demeanor. 

“And that some of your companions had to be revived with the microbes in the atmosphere?”

“Yeah still weirded out by that just b-t-dubs.” Taako called from the back of the traveling party, and Lucretia nodded in vigorous agreement.

“And that you heard of our miracle Light of the Prophets?”

“Yes-”

“Wonderful. You are welcome here, all of you.” She smiled, and walked over to a broken ship, pulling out a glowing box that held the Light. “I was about to enquire some food, if you would like. It’s nothing too much, as the prophets would not approve of extravagant demands, but it will be enough to sustain you.”

“Thank you, but, uh...Opaka?” It had been a while since Davenport had needed to play Diplomat. “We need to talk to you about your...Light. In Private.” Opaka seemed almost resigned, sad, in a way.

“Very well. We shall walk north and speak there. Nima, if you would?” A woman with dark hair, the only one with a weapon, took her place beside the Light, staring in solemn silence. 

“I apologize, but in order to prevent monopolization, it is important that I make sure the Light is guarded at all times.” 

“Of course.” Davenport nodded. “If you want, one of us could stay behind to help.”

“I’d be down with that.” Lup spoke up, clearly still a little adrenalized from the Taako-dying-but-not-really of it all. She nodded silently to Davenport in the “I will get information” kind of way.

“Very well. Come with me.” She smiled. 

Once they were far enough away, Opaka sighed again and turned around. 

“I know you are here for the light. I know that you are the...ones who look after it.” There was something sad in her voice. Sad and certain. 

“How?” Said each of them at once, at wildly different volumes and with wildly different amounts of profanity thrown in. 

“The people I come from, the Bajorans, we believe our gods to be Prophets, and often in my life they have given me senses of when a tide would change. When I received the light, I thought it a gift from them, and called it as such, after all, I had known that soon my quest to give these people peace would come to fruition. It felt like a miracle. Before all I had was Nima and a few others. Now I have so many, all learning to live in peace again. However, more and more over the past months since then, I have felt that this miracle is not mine, that the light was not mine to wield, not forever. It got strongest right before you arrived.”

“So you’ll help us?” The feeling of joy after so many weeks, months, years of hardship, that they would get the Light this soon after finding it, was overwhelming. It was also short lived as each noticed the expression on Opaka’s face. 

“I will, as that is the Will of the Prophets, but I have one request. A plea, really.” Ah. Of course. 

__

Meanwhile, back at the camp, Lup fidgeted next to Nima, who stood next to the Light of Creation with a sort of meditative ease. 

“So, you and Opaka, huh?” She joked to ease her own tension.

“Yes.”

“How’d that happen?” Lup didn’t exactly know what she was implying, but talking was better than nothing. 

“If you are asking why I left the Ennis, it is because Opaka seemed a far better leader than my former one, Shel-la. He was given an opportunity by the off-worlders not only to escape but to die, and he gave it up, just because he wanted to win against the Nol-Ennis. He put his own ancient pride before the fatigued soldiers who died in pain with him, for him, every day. I couldn’t forgive him for that, but I had nowhere else to go.”

“Until you met Opaka.”

“At first, I thought her promises of peace were no better than Shel-la’s promises of victory. But then…” She trailed off, lost in thought, “Then, she came to both camps with a simple message. I will be waiting for you at the site where you last had hope for peace, come and speak with me if you would like. No one took her up on it, but she still waited, still kept her promise. She kept this up for a full year, and I was curious, so I snuck out one night, and found her. She was bone thin and exhausted, with bags under her eyes. She must have starved to death five times before I got there. I offered her food and she just. Smiled at me, and thanked me, and assured me that she didn’t want me going hungry on her account. Still, I insisted, and she eventually accepted a portion of what I had. We talked for a while, and then I went back to the Ennis camp. But I came back the next day, with a little more food, and we talked some more, and that kept happening until eventually I stopped going back to the Ennis and started looking for food for her on my own.”

“That must have been hard. This seems a pretty dry planet.”

“Yes but it was worth it. It was all worth it to see her on the day the Light arrived. She was so happy, in her way. I would have starved even more than I did before to see her like she was. She was so excited to finally be able to heal and feed . That’s the kind of leader, of person I wanted with me. Someone who cares about her people not in some dumb line of pride, but for their wellbeing. ”

__

“What is your plea , then, Opaka?” Merle asked uneasily, not knowing what kind of quid-pro-quo they would receive from someone who claimed they knew the Light needed to be used by them. 

“Peace within this camp is maintained right now almost solely by the presence of the Light and the resources it provides. I would assume you all know a little of how to use it, but I do not, save for food, water, and shelter. If it is removed abruptly, the fighting will start again, and these people will fall right back into their old patterns.” She spoke with a kind of certainty that unsettled all of them. 

“So you want us to help you use the Light to make more resources, or ways to change things around you for better land? So you’re in a better place when we leave, so you have time to get them to be peaceful before things get hard again?” Barry took a stab in the dark.

“No. I want you to help me use the Light to remove the microbes from our bloodstreams.” Her expression was hard. “In other words, I want you to allow us all to die.”

Chapter Text

“So, what exactly is the point of this exercise again?” John asked, back rather uncomfortable against the cold metal of the stands, and picked at the glove Sisko had given him. 

“Well, the aim of the game is essentially to get as many runners around the diamond as you can-” Sisko looked to be about to get into a very long winded and very abstract explanation, so John cut him off. 

“No, I know what baseball is. Or, at least...conceptually I do.” He added sheepishly “I mean why are we watching this game?”

“It’s a lesson in humanity, and I, by order of both Doctor Bashir and Captain Yates, need a break. ” Sisko added the last part bitterly, as if being away from his desk were a personal offense. Not one he seemed to feel too harshly, though, as he got up and cheered for about the dozenth time. 

“ How exactly is a game that your species barely plays anymore a lesson in humanity?”

“Well, think about it. As a game, it shows our tendency to do things just for the fun of them. It’s also a testament to our building of intricate rule systems just...so that we can excel in a challenge.”

“I mean sure but...doing things for the fun of them can only get you so far.” John tried not to let too much ennui creep into his voice, so as not to prompt a lecture. “I mean, sure, we may play for the joy of the game, and that’s great and all but...what comes after?” It seemed like Sisko had had a similar conversation before.

“But that’s the point, John.” Ben leaned back against the stands, arms outstretched at either side. “Once the game is over it’s...over. You can have another game, sure, but it will never be the same, the bat will never hit the ball the same again.”

“So that’s it? Just infinite baseball?” 

“Well, no, but the play of the game in the individual moment is what’s important here, the lived experience rather than...the result. Do you...understand?” 

“I...do” John settled on uncertainly, “But I don’t know if I can... entirely agree.” John found that his conversations with Sisko went better if he did not start with his entire philosophy thesis. 

“How so?” Sisko challenged, and John prepared himself for an argument.

“It’s just...it’s been a while since I could even consider the...smaller machinations of something like this without just...getting swept away by the whole.” It was odd, talking about his discoveries like this.

“I’m guessing you weren’t a sports fan before all this?”

“Not particularly, but it was more than that. Even...even the things I did like...eventually just felt too, uh. Small for me.” John remembered having many books on philosophy on his shelf. Ironically, once they had helped him reach his epiphany he hadn’t needed them anymore. His last days before ascending had been spent largely just sleeping and doing vocal training. He didn’t like how Sisko was looking at him as though this were something sad rather than a simple fact.

“I think I understand that.” He nodded, like this was a human truth. “The year after my wife died, I near completely lost my interest in baseball. It just seemed...so pointless to find joy in something like that in a world without her in it.” John noticed his eyes nearly glittering in the faux sunset, and pushed down the associated feelings to focus on his curiosity.

“You seem to like it well enough now. What happened?” 

“Well, even though I didn’t get anything out of it, my son still did. Seeing him happy, seeing the joy whenever I took him to a game...gave me a reason to keep doing it. Eventually, I started liking it again - after I spoke with a counselor for a while and realized the actual root of my fading enjoyment.” He said this like it was supposed to imply something, but John didn’t understand what. 

“I don’t exactly think the same could happen in my situation.”

“Maybe not, but eventually, you may find something new.” Sisko’s eyes were now entirely on the game, fully invested and wide-grinned.

“Like what?” Not really much call for philosophers during war. Sisko looked up, into the air, and grinned with a kind of mischief.

“I don’t know. Maybe it will pop,” And here, Sisko maneuvered John’s gloved hand, “Out of the sky.” Sisko laughed then, which John, to his memory, had never heard before. He put a hand on John’s shoulder, as if to say ‘good job.’ It was a warm laugh and a warm hand that made things go a bit...weird for him. He thought he might be sick. 

After a few minutes, Sisko pulled back, and John thought he looked a bit sick, too. 

That was the last time John heard the man laugh.

Chapter Text

“Computer? Erase that entire personal log.” 

John leaned back against the door of his room where he’d been sitting for the past twenty minutes. He had been resting his eyes, not out of fatigue but out of boredom and annoyance. Garak had reneged on their breakfasts with the Constable for the past week, and Sisko had been doing some ‘vitally important security operation,’ spurred by their apparent losses in the war. Meanwhile, these same losses were causing the senior staff to break down on their own, grief mixing with anger at neutrality and some spurious actions by their fearless leader mixed with concern for that same leader. He’d gone an entire lunch with Julian where the man had so clearly wanted to scream at the captain, but been unable to fully explain for what. All of these things were important, and John was privy to almost none of them. 

In fury, he’d gone to Garak this afternoon, hoping someone would answer his questions. The man had been in the middle of fixing a split lip the origins of which he refused to confirm. The last dregs of brown blood had stayed on his lip for a few seconds, dark enough to be somewhat familiar. John had asked him rapidly what was going on on the station, why everyone was avoiding talking about anything. Garak had seemed amused in a sort of terrible way that John had so often been on the other side of. He’d smiled with a sort of applied sadness and answered that it wasn’t his place to tell - it was, in fact, a classified matter, it appeared - but that John might be able to find out from Sisko. 

Unfortunately, Sisko had been called into an all-day comms link with Starfleet command about a changing diplomatic relationship, if his sources (Bashir) were to be believed. All he could do was wait for Ben to get back. So he had returned, and, in a foolish attempt to ease his now loud mind, had decided to try sleeping. This had had mixed results. The issue at hand was no longer a curiosity he was being kept away from, but an active tension in his only points of contact. If it went on like this, he would have to resort to talking to Quark. This was not an enjoyable prospect. He had woken up 20 minutes ago to Sisko talking to someone rather loudly. Talking to himself. John had been about to leave his room, let the Captain know he might be overheard, when he started to actually overhear. 

“ It was like I had stepped through a door and locked it behind me: I was going to bring the Romulans into the war.”

“My father used to say that the road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

“People are dying out there, every day! Entire worlds are struggling for their freedom. And here I am, still worrying about the finer points of morality.”

This was not the Ben Sisko that John knew. Well, it was, but it also wasn’t. This was a Sisko that John rarely saw, the one embroiled in war not against ideals, but against a terrible force. Not just against him, but against something that was killing his friends and loved ones. This Sisko did not have the time to question every move for Federation morality, and so instead insisted that he had it. This was Sisko facing off against a threat. 

This was the Sisko that would have met him at full power, in something like Parley. 

Only after the last words were uttered did John have the courage to come out of hiding. He didn’t say anything, just passed into Sisko’s line of vision, let the captain come back to reality. What was there really to say?

“John,” Ben broke out of his stupor, not quite having the energy to yell in surprise. “Where- How much-”

“In my room, and quite a lot.” John kept as quiet as Sisko. He had his answers.

“Ah.” Sisko was quiet for a while. He looked off into the middle distance, hunched over with the weight of a quarter of the galaxy on his shoulders. “You understand that none of this can leave my quarters.”

“Of course, Captain.” Formality was safe, as was avoiding eye contact. 

“I’ll imagine you have something to say.” Oh he could say so much. He could be cruel. He could be glib. He could joke about mentors in matters of humanity and decency, he could mock all he had read about Starfleet and the Federation. He could be kind in his own way, he could say that no one could be truly moral. He could be philosophical, bring up Vulcan edicts like ‘needs of the many’, or his own thoughts on Apocalyptic Morality and the notion of the ‘greater good’. He could say infinite things, make infinite choices in this singular moment faced with another person. The moment stretched on for eternity.  

“John?” John realized that he had been pondering his options in silence for several minutes and not looking anywhere near the Captain. He forced himself to look up, deciding he would choose what to say as he said it. 

Now, he looked into the eyes of the Sisko that he had seen before. The Sisko after the other one had left, the Sisko exhausted by his own energy in thinking like someone in the middle of a war, moral enough to be aware of whatever he’d just done. This was the Sisko that knew himself too well, that softly spoke of an old sadness in the fading afternoon light. This was Sisko beaten down, time and time again. This was the Sisko that tried and wanted desperately to be all that Starfleet said a Captain should be, and became so in his very doubt that he was. This was Sisko on the biobed, questioning himself constantly because it was quiet enough to do so. 

This was the Sisko that made John feel the presence of his own organs in his body. 

“Nothing, actually.” John quietly replied. “Nothing at all.”

___

Two weeks later, John sat in Quark’s, perfectly serene with the air of someone who had no idea what illegal deals might be made on a station like this. Garak, as was his prerogative, sat with him, the two sharing a bottle of Qanar. The drink tasted horrible to John, to most humans, because it was sour, bitter, and as thick as molasses. However, the general aversion to it as a Cardassian drink provided the two outcasts a veneer of disgusted privacy when Garak pulled a similar bottle from his coat, suggesting the two take it to his quarters as Quark was one to ban outside drinks and this was a particularly good vintage. Many would make spurious claims to one another about what happened after that, all of which both men would deny when asked, especially when asked grumpily by Dr. Bashir. The claims were, after all, completely wrong about what the two were doing. 

This would be obvious if any of these gossiping heads took more than a moment to look at the liquid in that bottle. Sure, it was housed in a Qanar bottle, sure it was just as dark and thick, but on closer inspection, the parts of the liquid that caught the light held odd, pulsing bands of red, yellow, green, and blue. To John, merely watching the liquid pour into easily pocketable vials was beautiful, and he never wanted to know what Garak had done to snatch the sample casing out from under Julian’s nose. 

He also wasn’t interested in knowing exactly why Garak had so many hyposprays in almost invisible spots around his quarters. On both counts, John had his suspicions - Garak had more than one ulterior motive for how much time spent in the Medical Bay, but if the coy lizard wanted to test Julian’s genetically enhanced eyes, it was his own choice.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Garak asked as he loaded the first vial into the hypospray. John knew this was all out of deeply ingrained manners, and he appreciated it. 

“Very much so. Will you be available for another handoff next week?” John kept his entire focus on the vial, having to keep himself from salivating. 

“John, there are only so many samples of the fluid from your pod in the Medical Bay. We need to space it out, or Julian will notice. ”

“ Will. You. Be. Available?” His voice caught. Garak didn’t flinch, not even when John greedily took the hypospray from his hands. John did not know what favor Garak would eventually collect from him for all this, but he did not particularly care.

“Yes.” 

“Thank you.” John smiled easily, and pressed the device to his neck as Garak had shown him. All at once, he was Hungry and Sated, and finally, he was in Control.

The Hunger was coming back.

Chapter Text

Dax dashed into Sisko’s office with the kind of excited smile unique to Jadzia in the symbiont line. It was nice to see on her after so many weeks of pragmatism and Kurzon-like aggression. This was the Jadzia of scientific discovery, getting things right and having fun while doing it. 

“I’ve figured it out!” She placed both hands on the desk and intoned conspiratorially. 

“What exactly have you figured out?” He gazed up tiredly from the PADD he’d been reading, but warmly, welcoming this Dax back into the fold. He so missed being able to guide and learn from his officers like this, his peacetime duties.

“How to observe John’s ‘Parleys,’ maybe actually see this ‘Merle,’ get a better read on the whole situation.” Intriguing, if true. 

“How?”

“Well, I was going over the neurological scans from the first time he says he saw Merle on the stations, and then I compared them with the scans we took while he was in the hold, and the scans that we took before when he first arrived on the station.”

“The ones where he didn’t have a brain pattern?”

“Exactly. But for some minutes while he was out cold on that biobed, he did have one. For a few moments, he had two, and then the first one faded, but the other one stayed on. That first one was probably Merle’s.” Sisko was starting to see where she was going with this, but didn’t want to rob Jadzia of the chance to explain her idea fully. He knew she missed this as much as he did. “ So, whatever Merle is doing is probably similar to inborn psionics, like a mind meld or betazoid telepathy, just over much larger distances, and much more potent. It could potentially be recorded or projected using neurological probes, translating the information being received by it to a visual image.”

“Do we have software complex enough for that?”

“Well, at first, I thought that was a problem too, until a few weeks ago, Julian showed us a new Holoprogram sent to him by his friend. One of the characters in it was complex enough to be self aware, and transfer himself to other programs.” Sisko would have to have a word with Julian about introducing malignant software into the holosuites. 

“And?”

“ And that reminded me of that incident two years ago, when all of our patterns got trapped in the holosuites. At the time, as an emergency transfer, our brain patterns were stored throughout the station.” Sisko remembered the incident, though of course none of them had been particularly conscious for it, aside from Bashir. He raised an eyebrow in lieu of asking how this incident helped, given the entire point was that brain patterns contained inordinate amounts of data. “ But, if I and the chief were given time, we could code up a translation solution that would condense just the code for John’s perceptual filters, and the aspect of Merle’s pattern being imprinted to something that the holosuite can record, and, hopefully, project in a holosuite.”

“I see. Certainly a fascinating possibility.”

__

John would not say he was nervous about this medical check-up. Honestly, it was hard to feel much these days, most of it blotted out by his connection to the Hunger. He still had to eat and sleep, his blood still flowed - though, apparently, slower than normal - all redundancies, his body newly unused to the bond. His mind had changed, though. Doubts were mingled in not only with his own consciousness, but the consciousnesses of all those in the Hunger on Derna. Also, he tended to wake up with goo in his mouth and throat. 

John was not nervous, but Julian said specifically that he was doing a checkup on his neural patterns to have them sent to Dax to test some new software she and O’Brien were working on. This could potentially reveal what he was doing before he was ready, and return him to constant scrutiny out of ‘concern.’ Not only that, it would likely implicate Garak, which, when added to the aforementioned scrutiny, would completely bar him from any further shipments of Hunger, or access to Derna whatsoever.

Much as he suspected, Julian was perturbed by his muted response to stimulus, and the relative faintness of John’s vitals and brain pattern. His brow creased in professional, astute concern. 

“Perhaps it’s all just equalizing?” John proposed, logicking out non-worrying explanations faster than a Vulcan. 

“How do you mean?” Julian sounded dubious. 

“I’ve been overstimulated for the past few months, what with all of these new experiences and...body parts. Perhaps this low is just because I’m suddenly bereft of new. ”

“While I appreciate your...attempts to dissuade my worry, John, that’s not actually how. Um.” Bashir looked to be desperately looking for a polite way to say something “Anything works. I think I should do a more in depth scan. There might be something actually wrong with you.”

“Doctor I feel fine.” He did feel fine, just not the kind of fine that Bashir would appreciate.

“Yes, John, I believe you.” Julian said in a quiet, soothing tone that set what was left of John’s nerves on edge. “It is my job to make sure you stay that way. That’s why I’m recommending a full Cranial Nerve Exam and a blood screening, just in case.” He smiled in the way of a doctor with a good bedside manner and a history with difficult patients. John’s equal distaste for pity and discovery made him recoil from that smile, but he knew that if he didn’t acquiesce, it would damn him to suspicion. 

Luckily, at that moment, something pinged on the still-attached monitors. A sudden surge of psionic energy, a new brain pattern, appeared on the sensor. 

“See? I was right, completely nor-” John was halfway through continuing to make his very bad case before he saw Merle right next to him. “Oh. I see.” Bashir, meanwhile, seemed to already know what was going on, sighing and tapping his comm badge while looking at John in a universal symbol of “ We will get back to this. ”

“Bashir to Dax, it seems that the test of your perceptual recorder will be more practical than we thought.”

__

Parley did not go as planned that day. 

Oh, they got the recording they wanted. Ben was even able to watch the actual Parley, situated in the holodeck. They’d decided, since it was clearly a program capable of handling complex information, to use Vic’s. The connection was not perfect yet, and so Merle had flickered in and out, not consistently there, and his words at times had to be input by Vic. The recording, however, was near perfect. Sisko had been watching it on repeat in his office, all the while John was, once again, knocked out in a holding cell, courtesy of Commander Worf.

A blood test had been administered. His blood was almost black again. John was reverting. John had chosen to revert, it seems. 

Had he been a fool?

__

When Merle had initiated Parley, he had been hoping to get information on the planet they were stuck on, maybe some research given he’d recognized the names of the people who’d been stranded on the planet from the people whom John had discussed. This was how he had justified leaving as he stared down at Davenport’s face, always more open in sleep than he ever was awake and on duty. 

Appearing in some sort of medical bay, and then being led by John, fitted with some kind of brain-scanner and oddly curious about the whole thing, to a room completely unfitting of the space-agey setting Merle had come to expect. It was kind of like one of the performance spaces back at the Legato, all mood lighting, fancy tables and fancier booze. There was even a stage. Merle wondered if John came here in his off hours from being menacing. Standing behind the bar, talking with an unseen someone who seemed to be giving him trouble, was the first person besides John that Merle had ever seen in Parley. He was human, middle aged, and wore a nice looking suit. He smiled easily, offering a seat a little ways away from the person he was talking to. 

“Hi.” He said easily, smiling like nothing was weird. “Name’s Vic Fontaine. Before you ask, reason you can see me is I’m not actually sentient. Well, not fully. I’m technically just a hologram, like the rest of the projected stuff around here. And uh, I’m just here to translate for the captain in case the connection goes down.”

“Sisko can see Merle?” John perked up in concern at that, unused to having an audience. 

“Yeah, some kind of, ah, perceptual thing Commander Dax is pullin’. Just ignore me, though. Not even here. Oh and uh, chin up, fella. You’re among friends. Also, next time? Please wear a shirt. We’re a respectable establishment.” He gave a wink to Merle that Merle did not even want to pretend he understood, and walked back. There were two glasses of water between them, making the space feel all too much like the old ‘normal’ parley spot. 

John wasted his question on the usual request for a status update. Merle told the truth that they were stuck on a planet with people who couldn’t die, but withheld - as best he could - any mention of the light. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Vic in deep conversation with the unseen Sisko. 

“This planet, is it just outside the wormhole, with a sort of defense grid orbiting it?” John asked, finally.

“Think so, but we went down during our last parley a few weeks ago. We’ve been trying to repair the Starblaster ever since.”

“Supposedly that will take a while. Do you want shuttle assistance? They’ve already figured out how to beam people off-” 

“I think we’ve got that handled.” No matter what these people were like he could not risk John coming in close contact with the light. “Our ship is really very important to our ongoing team effectiveness and, uh, we’d rather see if we can repair it first.” None of this was specifically a lie. 

“Very well. Do you have any questions for me?” Merle had a list in his head and in his pocket of questions to ask, but something in the placid tone of John’s delivery gave him the sudden sinking feeling that he wasn’t leaving this Parley alive. Something had changed, and this ‘Captain Sisko’ had no idea. Sisko had been indirectly good to him and his crew so far, it was time to repay the favor. 

“Yeah. Just one question, John. Are you my friend?” Everything paused. Vic looked up in abject shock, and he looked to be the kind of man rarely shocked. The polite, patient smile dropped from John’s face. He stood up, and, though he didn’t fully reach out his arm, it was clear from his eyes, pooling and radiating with darkness banded in neon, that he was about to kill Merle. 

Suddenly, though, he stopped. He shook his head, and the darkness vanished from his eyes. In that moment, Merle thought, hoped, he was wrong. That this was still the John who could get drunk and be aware of himself. 

“What am I doing?” More foolish hope, especially as he turned to look plaintively at where Merle guessed that Sisko was sitting. “Merle… to have friendship. It requires you to…” he trailed off a little, “ Love someone, and be invested in some kind of shared happiness.” John turned back to Merle now, almost angry, “And these things, Merle, love, happiness, they’re all so... small.” He looked down at his glass of water. “They last a second in the grand scheme of things, Merle, and I just don’t- What brings you joy, Merle? Please, just give me a freebie.” The way John kept saying his name, Merle, Merle, Merle, it was like John was trying to remember something. Like he was trying to force himself back into what felt like a recent role. This reminded Merle of two things. 

The first was every milliliter of pain John had inflicted on Merle and the people he loved for the past 80 odd years. The deaths, the consumption of everyone they loved, the isolation, and the despair. It reminded him that John was responsible, in a way, for every hardship they endured on this plane of existence, because he was the reason they had to go tearing off through space all the time. He also remembered all that was indirect, Merle’s own reticence to communicate with his loved ones, his self blame and isolation, his toxicity, the deaths of Taako and Lucretia and Magnus. The wars being fought by he and his crewmates, and the war apparently being fought on this plane. 

The second thing was this. 

“What brings me joy is... life. I think you can find joy anywhere in life. I think…” He thought of tears mixing with wine on a starry night, the first time he had gotten the captain to kiss him. “I think it’s a conscious choice. I think you choose joy, in life.” Smiling at his little family and hoping, rebelliously, that they could face down the big bad. “And no matter how bad things are, no matter how crummy, no matter how dark, no matter how many times some guy named John kills your ass” John chuckled a bit. It was a nice chuckle. 

“You find joy. I’ve found joy, honest to Pan, getting to know you.” Heat came to Merle’s cheeks but he kept going. “I’ve found joy playing chess with you, learning more about this plane with you. I didn’t enjoy, y’know, gettin’ my ass killed but. I find joy in whatever I do. I don’t always do things right, or smart or strategic. But, whatever I do, I find joy in it. At the end of the day, all you got is the joy you had, the joy you found, and the joy you gave other people.”

What Merle could not see was the tears in Sisko’s eyes. He could, however, see the tears in Vic’s, and the dull sadness in John’s as his fingers passed along one of the tables.

“Y’know, I think there was a time where I had joy, once. Where I experienced fleeting happiness, or anger, or sadness but… eventually…” He trailed off, looking distantly at the bar, “Merle, I…” Merle felt like John wasn’t talking to him, not fully. “I used to spend my days... considering the nature of time and existence. Maybe that brought me joy, once, but… unlike everybody else who ever thought about those questions, I solved it,” He approached the bar again, not looking at Merle or Sisko. “I saw the fullness of time. I pondered eternity and… was the first person, and only person to successfully visualize its treacherous arc.” It was like telling this story was making John remember it all. But worse, it was like he needed that. He calmed himself a little, then chose one of the seats, turning himself towards Merle. 

“You’re a man of the cloth, Merle, certainly you’ve wondered too about what awaits our consciousness after death or--” He paused to laugh, coldly, “What am I saying? I’ve given you a first hand experience a few times by now!” He seemed like he wanted to laugh more, but must have looked to the right to see a very unamused expression. 

“I’ve known other people to think of it as peaceful oblivion, others an eternity with loving gods, others still cycling through other living beings. All of these choices, these small interactions are fine on their own, but eternally, Merle, Eternally? Any of these would be maddening and hopeless. Even a bliss forever would become a hell to you eventually.” Here, John turned back, once again plaintive, as if wishing he didn’t believe what he was saying. “And all of it is too uncertain to even taunt you with its ambivalence. Even then, before that eternity, you have other painful infinities. So yes, existence, Merle, life, Merle-” He seemed militant in emphasizing that he was only talking to Merle, like he couldn’t face that Sisko was there, was his witness, not in rhetoric. “Is horrible. To Exist, to Live, is horrible. ” John sat down and caught his breath. The monster was out, at least in words. Even if Merle couldn’t convince John of his own humanity, at least he had likely made Sisko fully realize the flipside enough to be safe. It was time to be done with this, and let Davenport slap him for risking himself again. John had given him and out. 

“I don’t think I want to hang out with you, anymore, John. I think I’m gonna go, and you can stay here, wallow, or not, and then one day, maybe, you can apologize to me and tell me you were wrong.” Merle pushed himself off the barstool, ready to be placed back in his bedroll as John came back to his own reality. 

He didn’t. His loose grip on the bar tightened, and he trembled slightly. 

“I’m sorry you feel that way.” John’s voice was placid again, but he made eye contact with no one. “Very few people who I’ve talked about this with haven’t listened. Way back when, Everyone listened. Our shared vexation with life covered the world like a blanket. Every bird in the sky and every tree in every forest and every blade of grass and grain of sand shared our fury. It changed us.” This was no longer a confession. It was a brag. John turned to face him and he was smiling. Wide. 

“You called us the Hunger, and that is...accurate, though we’re more like dissatisfaction. Refusal to get caught up in minutiae. But soon, Merle?” He came in close, dropping to his knees, gripping Merle’s hand tightly in his own, his voice multiplying, “ Ȳ̶̫ȯ̵͍̣͐̔ư̷͚̣̭̑̀ ̷̛̣̖͕̎̈̓ẅ̴̡̺͖̬̏͛̐i̸̮̹̋͋͛̑ͅḽ̷̱̺͓̃̆̇l̵̲̮̮̯̆ ̸̗͉͔̗͠c̷͚̍̈́̓̂a̷̹͚̞͒͂͌̎ḻ̶̥͂͐͝l̵̫͔͉͜ ̵̛͎̰̲ͅu̷͍̖̍͘͝ṡ̴̯̫͍̓̎͝ ̶̱͎͈͘̚͝a̶̟̫̟̥͐ṡ̶̺ċ̴͕̱̓̾ͅe̸̱͆ǹ̸̢̗͚̙̋͒̽d̶͔͑̏͆͝ã̸̹̑͘n̵̜̱̤̔̐t̵̹͓͊͠.̸̦̩͆̈́̃̔ ” Merle knew he didn’t have long. He had to make his last words count. 

“Kiss my ass you sanctimonious bastard.” John cocked his head, still smiling, eyes full of malice and darkness. 

“Huh. I can still feel sadness, I suppose.” And then John’s hands flared to life, and Merle died.

Chapter Text

When Davenport woke up that morning, he expected to have a set of very long conversations. One would be with Opaka, asking her for the millionth time if she was certain there was no other way, but before that he would talk with the crew of the Starblaster, debating for the millionth time if it was ethically reasonable to kill these people if they asked and then telling them to do work with the light, priorities to fix their ship and find out if re-coding life was even possible. Before all of that though, he had to talk to Merle, he had to see what he thought of all of this. The Captain rolled over in his bedroll, ready to wake up the dwarf and pull him sleepily off to some corner where they could talk in private. 

His hand passed through a cloud. 

Davenport should have been angry. He should have shouted, would have had full rights to wave his hands through the Merle-shaped space and dissipate it if he could, it would serve Merle right to take his body for granted like that again. He wanted to be angry, to cry and scream at someone that this wasn’t fair, that Merle couldn’t just decide to get intel at the possible cost of his life, even if he tended to survive this year. Instead, however, his body was used to the routine by now. He sat up, cross legged, and began watching over Merle’s not-a-body. 

Rather than have a meeting, the remaining four crewmembers woke up in staggered sets to find their fearless captain in a position they had all seen before, even if they were reticent to admit it. Even as his professional walls had crumbled, even as “Dav’s” and “Dad’n’port’s” replaced “Captain” or even “Cap’n’port’s,” Davenport never really liked it known that he was having a rough time of it. Much as they all wanted to help, they also wanted to give him space, especially when it came to Merle. So, in turn, each of them did their little part. Barry handed him his thermos in caffeine addict solidarity, using up the last of their supplies for the year. Lup ruffled his hair and gave him a soft pat on the cheek. Taako affectionately told him not to slack off all day, and then affectionately kicked a rock into the Merle shaped cloud. Lucretia sat by him in comfortable silence for a while before going to help Taako fix the ship. 

However, someone else came to sit by him before he could join the repair crew. Opaka, serene and spiritual as ever, watched the amorphous blob of Merle’s not-a-body with placid curiosity. 

“His pagh must be strong to have the ability to project himself so far.” 

“ Pagh ?”  

“Oh, I apologize.” She smiled. “ Pagh is a word my culture uses to signify one’s spiritual essence. It encapsulates their destiny, their soul, and” she indicated Merle’s form “One’s force of will.”

“Oh.” He nodded, “I suppose that would make sense for him. He’s, uh, very strong willed.”

“I would expect you all would have to be, from what Lucretia told me of your journey.”

“I guess we would. This ability of his, though, was um. Taught.” He didn’t talk about Merle’s Parley, why was he doing it now? “We came to this one world that had solved all war by coming up with a system that required people to humble themselves as an act of good faith. They agreed to teach it, but only to Merle, I think they thought that as a person of faith he was the only one who could understand it.” The explanation poured out of him. 

“Were they right?” That question stumped him. Did he understand any of it? Did Merle? After all, he was using it in a completely different way than what the Monastery had told him. He used it for recon and information rather than peace or diplomacy. As far as Davenport knew, at least. 

He was about to insist that he did understand it to some extent when out of the corner of his eye he noticed the smoke start to dissipate. It happened more slowly than usual, Merle’s form visibly coming undone from the inside out, and yet still it was too fast for Davenport to do anything about it. All he could do was sit back and watch as the last small comfort from this year slipping away into the permanent gloom of the prison planetoid. 

“No.” The sullen syllable came out of his lips a few minutes later, anger unlocked. “No I don’t fucking understand it. Not where he’s concerned.”

“What about it do you not understand, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“It’s the- why is it always framed as noble when someone gives their life? In some instances, sure! Save a lot of people but you die, it was the only way. Great. Real sad. But that doesn’t mean every single self sacrifice is equal or necessary. ”

“That may be true. Though perhaps it is merely acting on a principle that, as some would say it, ‘the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one.’” She said this with a familiar kind of air about her. One that calmly listened to his worries and tried to rearrange them into humor, or, in this case, hope. Normally, that would soothe him, but now it just allowed him to get angrier. 

“But who is he to decide what those needs are? Who is anyone to decide what those needs are without even consulting the person who would have the need in the first place?”

“Even if that right should rarely be given, it often is in the name of the greater good.” Davenport let out a bitter laugh.

“‘Greater good’ oh fuck greater good. I and my crew have had enough greater good for a lifetime or two. I am sick of the greater good. Especially from you, come to think of it! What. What gives you the right to say that killing off not just yourself but your community is some kind of greater good? Do you even know what it’s like to make that sacrifice? How could you look them in the eye and say that their dying is for the greater good?” Something sad and wistful came over Opaka’s face at that moment.

“Because I already have.” She said it so quietly that, in his anger, Davenport almost didn’t hear it. “Until less than a year before I came to this planet, my homeworld, Bajor, was subject to a brutal occupation by a race called the Cardassians. That we were able to survive, to mount up an effective resistance, has been attributed almost entirely to the strength of the Bajoran faith in the prophets, and by extension, their faith in me as their spiritual leader. The Cardassians knew this, and also knew that I had access to knowledge about some of the rebels, the location of a base in Kendra Valley. So, they approached me with...the prefect called it an “offer.” Either I give them the location of the rebels, or they systematically slaughter the civilian population of that region. So, I considered it, asked guidance of the prophets, and then sent them the coordinates of the rebels, one of which was my son . ” She told the story in an even tone, softly, like she was telling a secret. “The result was the Kendra Valley Massacre, famous both for the implicated betrayal of a low-level Vedek, who took my secret to his grave, and for the sheer bloodiness of the whole affair. But the civilians were safe.”

“I-” Davenport didn’t know what to say. Opaka smiled sadly again.

“I don’t tell you this to defend myself, or Merle. Nor do I wish you to feel guilt or pity. I merely wish to show that I do understand. No one has the right to make that decision. No one should ever make that decision. Sometimes, however, we are forced to make that decision. So we do the best we can.” 

Davenport wanted to say many things at this point. He wanted to say that this situation was different, that Merle’s situation was different. He wanted to say that no one was making them choose, that there was no ‘prefect’ here to give her that choice. He wanted to say that she was wrong. He said none of this, though. And Opaka understood. 

Slowly, tenderly, she brought her hand up to his ear, finger and thumb at some unseen pressure point. As she did, her eyes lit up with a kind of realization that she wouldn’t explain. Or couldn’t, as immediately after, Barry came over to tell them that they had found a way to do as Opaka asked. 

__

“So that way, we can disable the microorganisms quickly, simultaneously, for all three groups, by sort of...redefining the parameters under which they were created.” 

“We’re basically hacking the atmosphere.” Lup smiled proudly at Barry. “So that the organisms already in your bodies will focus only on replacing the organs you’ve already lost, and removing the genetic ‘code’ that jumpstarts your bodies back to life.”

“So there is no way to make it immediate, to disable them completely?” 

“If there is, I’m not researching it. We don’t do that kind of thing.” Lup answered flatly. “Sorry, sorta made everyone take a vow about it.”

“I understand such codes of conduct.” Opaka sounded frustrated, almost angry. “I have been faced with them before. However, surely you can see there are extenuating circumstances- No, of course you don’t.” This was an old anger. 

“Opaka…” Davenport tried “Surely it’s more compassionate to let them live for now knowing this is the last life than to just kill them off immediately-”

“Captain, if you were given an option where you and your crew could die permanently, knowing that the fight would end, would you not take it?” It was a difficult question.

“Possibly but-”

“And if you said yes, and then had to choose between dying immediately, but with little to no pain or awareness, or ending your journey infected on a plague-ridden planet, so that you would die, but slowly and painfully, watching the people that you have come to care for suffer or turn against one another in the absence of shared purpose, which would you choose then?”

“I-”

“Because that is what will happen here. One of the remaining soldiers will die, Zlangco and Shel-la will take it as a sign that they can finally win, and then they will attack us. Even if they die off first, in the absence of the resources provided by the Light of the Prophets, tensions will flare up again. People will grow hungry and turn against one another, only this time they will be able to settle old scores permanently. Those are the options.” She shook as she said this.

“There is a third possibility.” Nima, who had somehow managed to erase her rather large presence within the room, suddenly spoke up. “There is always the chance that permanent death may drive one side to us, as they would be at a disadvantage. The others, having no one to fight, or facing against the combined forces of the Ennis and the Nol-Ennis, could follow suit. And, if we are able to make enough resources to last for a while, I see no reason that tensions would arise so immediately.” She slowly drew closer to Opaka’s trembling form. 

“You cannot know for certain like I do.” Opaka said quietly.

“Are the prophets telling you this future?” Nima asked gently.

“No, they do not need to.”

“Then, perhaps you should have more faith in us.” Opaka smiled, seemingly in spite of herself.

“And if you are wrong? If they turn against me when I give away what I told them was our salvation, right as they are returned to mortality?”

“Then I shall stand with you, as I did with the woman I joined before the Light of the Prophets found her, the woman so stubbornly hopeful that she died of starvation several times over without giving up her offer of peace.” Nima put her hand to Opaka’s cheek. “You should meet her some time, you’d like her.” 

“My.” Opaka blinked. “I really have let you down, haven’t I?”

“Yes.” Nima answered bluntly, “However, I shall stay with you, as I know you thought you were acting for the greater good.” In spite of himself, Davenport flinched at that final phrase.

__

Two weeks later, the Starblaster was repaired, and the Ennis and Nol-Ennis returned to mortality. Opaka had kept her word and given them the Light of Creation, explaining in simple terms to the assorted crowd why it was being done, what was happening, and her hope that the community they had built was strong enough to stay together. After their initial shock, most had nodded. The rest nodded when Nima sent a harsh glare their way. 

Hope. The word echoed in Davenport’s ears as he strapped into his chair, doing his normal preflight check. Lup had, as she often did while outrunning the hunger, tied herself to one of the struts that held up the gangplank, ready to shoot a fireball at the planetoid’s defense grid. Lucretia and Taako were still planetside, knowing that if they left the planet’s atmosphere, they would die. Much as they were used to it, they both had decided they would rather help the newly mortal. 

As they approached lift-off, Davenport thought of some hopes for next cycle. He hoped he would get the opportunity to pull Merle aside. He hoped he could explain in no uncertain terms that Merle, at least for now, was better put to use with them than without them, and why exactly it upset him. He hoped he would be able to handle Merle continuing to insist on Parley. He hoped the exchange would end with one of the wine bottles due to appear in the hold once they got to the next planar system. He hoped it might end even more happily than that.

He hoped all of this as he came to the realization that his nose was bleeding, right up to a sudden pain, right up to the memory of the crash, of shrapnel entering the back of his skull, and of waking up two minutes later thinking “it must have just been a bad cut instead.”

He hoped this even as he woozily called out to Barry, telling him to take the controls, and then collapsing unceremoniously onto the floor.

Oh well he thought as he lay hopeful and dying There’s always next cycle. 

__

“Got it.” Lup announced tiredly as she walked out of Lucretia’s room, carrying a torn page. “Had to read it a couple times, but it’s well within my level of expertise.”

“You sure about this?” Barry asked, eyes darting briefly away from the viewscreen. 

“I mean, it’s not like we really have any other choice. If Merle got killed in Parley, that means something’s changed with the Hunger, it’s revving up again. But we can’t leave unless we know this plane will be alright, and that means knowing exactly what’s going on. But, if the Hunger is back we can’t risk going to check because we have the light. I just hope Merle’s mentioning of their Captain is enough knowledge to locate him.” 

“It should be. I just-”

“I know. Rancid vibes on this by association. Don’t worry, though, I end the spell, so I’m definitely coming back. No clouds.”

“Don’t even joke about that.” It wasn’t so much an admonishment as a plea. 

“I’m not.” Lup kissed his cheek and gave him a hug before sitting down in shotgun and initiating the Dream spell.

Barry didn’t know how Davenport got anything done, because it took all of his willpower not to spend the next two hours just staring at Lup to make sure she was still there.

Chapter Text

Benjamin Sisko collapsed into bed, another interrogation gone absolutely wrong. John was even worse than he’d been when they’d found him. At least back then, he was hiding it. At least back then, Ben could lie to himself. That was how John had put it at least, he thought as sleep took him. 

“Oh come now, Ben.” John had taken to a familiar address “Are you truly angry at what I’ve done? Or that you couldn’t see it coming?”

“Neither.” 

“Or maybe you’re angry that your three months of trying to change my mind couldn’t do anything in the face of my conviction.” 

“I’m not angry.” He’d lied, and John’s face had filled with sympathy. 

“ You really shouldn’t blame yourself, Captain. It’s as I said. Living is torture, and I’ve wanted out for a very long time now. You never could have succeeded.” He was about to retort when suddenly John’s face paused. In fact, everything in the room paused except for him and the form of a woman with blonde hair and long pointed ears, wearing a short cut red robe.

“Captain Sisko, I presu- Oh Yikes. That’s like...real not good, huh?” She asked with an unfamiliar kind of candor. 

“I suppose you could say that. Who are you?” Sisko was used to strange dreams by now, and he was getting a little tired of them. Especially at a time like this. 

“OH! I’m Lup. I’m on the Starblaster, which - wait do you know what that is? I don’t remember how much Merle says that guy in the cell told you.”

“...Somewhat. I know it’s a ship that John was chasing for years, I know you were trying to stop him.”

“Yeah, key phrase trying. Anyway, good on you for getting him in that cell. I assume you finally caught him in all his weird vore-y glory?” 

“Well I did...witness him killing Merle, yes?”

“Ah. Yeah it’s. Rough. Do you know how he got that way?”

“No, I don’t. Though I think...I think he must have taken some of the inky substance we found with him, gotten closer to the Hunger. That is my Doctor’s theory, at least.”

“Oh that? That stuff... is The Hunger, actually. John is...John’s just sort of the Nucleus as far as we can gather.”

“Huh. Good to know.”

“I’m surprised though. He looks...weaker than I thought he’d be.”

“Is that so?” There was a forced evenness in Sisko’s voice. 

“Speaking of which, what’s your plan for him?”

“As of yet, we don’t know. Imprisoning him seems to be our best bet for now, as death sentences are not...looked on well in our society.”

“Normally, I’d say nice, but when you’re dealing with this guy…” She drifted off, first suggestively, but then in thought. “Unless…”

“Unless?”

“Unless...Well, the rest of the Hunger’s gotta be somewhere, and I’ve been thinking it’s weird we haven’t been attacked by the rest of it yet. Y’know how he’s the nucleus? Well I think the fact that he is here must mean something. Might be why the Hunger isn’t up and attem.”

“Because without John, it’s braindead.”

“Oh, it’s not quite that. The hunger is waiting on John - or, the head - to tell it where to go, but that head is tenuously connected at best and thinking of completely different things at worst. It’s confused. ” Realisation dawned on Ben’s face. 

“And if he dies, the Hunger gets full control of itself.”

“So you can’t kill him.”

“We can’t kill him.” Ben sat down.

“I’m sorry.” Lup put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “But if you hold on to him...we might be able to end this anyway. Without John acting as the head, the Hunger won’t follow us into the next plane, so we can get the Light of Creation out of here. Stop disrupting your shit.”

“I...how certain are you of this?”

“Like...90%?” She paused. “Okay like 85% but, y’know, it’s a strong 85.”

“That’s not a lot to go on.”

“It’s all you’ve got. All we’ve got. You have to trust me.” She was starting to flicker, and he felt his grip on this dream fading by the moment.

“I suppose I do, don’t I?” Sisko shook her outstretched hand as both faded. It would be difficult to convince Starfleet to go along with this plan, especially if he said where he got it, but he would try. Besides, maybe it would give him some time to keep working on John. If he could just convince him there was another wa-

“Odo to Sisko,” The changeling’s gruff voice came over the intercom as Sisko was jolted into consciousness. “We have a security breach. John escaped, and he had help.”

Chapter Text

When Elim Garak was dragged into the security office, thrown into a holding cell, and asked to explain himself, he would insist that all he did was for the greater good. At least, the specific parts for which he was under arrest. Odo would let out a low, disbelieving grunt, and Sisko would look very much like a man who was trying incredibly hard not to punch him. Again. Garak would almost consider making a jab about it, reminding Sisko he knew what it was like. He would decide against it, and instead obligingly begin his tale. 

__

All of this had begun two weeks ago, in the Replimat. He had noticed that John hadn’t been joining his lunches with Doctor Bashir as of late, and had pondered aloud as to his absence. The doctor had frozen up rather oddly at this, and said that he was in the holding cell, Garak had asked how long this incarceration, as there had been others, was to last. Julian had said, more to his soup than his friend, “Permanently, most likely. At least, once they decide on where to put him.”

“I was not aware that the Federation was in the business of indefinite detentions. ” Garak had stressed the last phrase, drawing the obvious connection to the Cardassians.

“We aren’t, however there are… extenuating circumstances.” Julian had seemed uncharacteristically averse to talking, which indicated that he was keeping vital information. 

“I would think so. Well, I shudder to think what John could have done to create such extenuating circumstances.” Garak would like to think that his performative mode of speech was a boon to him, especially in getting the good doctor to elaborate. 

“He...uh...killed someone, I suppose is the best way to describe it.” 

“Doctor, many people on this station alone have ‘killed someone,’ and none have faced permanent incarceration. Lengthy, perhaps, but not permanent.” Not even me he had not said, as it rarely went well to remind Julian of his past. 

“It...it has more to do with... how he killed them. He used… well I would assume he used the power he talked about. It seems his connection with the...Hunger, I think he calls it? He used it during the last of his conversations with that Merle fellow and...he killed him.” 

“And so Starfleet is now concerned that he poses an unacceptable risk.”

“In essence, yes.” 

“And why, and forgive me for asking Doctor, does Starfleet not just try to kill him?” Garak had anticipated that Bashir’s answer, as usual, would be an impassioned speech about the intrinsic value of life, that the Federation had abandoned capital punishment centuries ago. Bashir had not given the anticipated response.

“We have received... information that suggests that if John dies it could be...worse in the long run.” Julian had sounded...tired. 

“How? And from whom?” The immediate questions had come, followed by “If you are allowed to share, that is.”

“Well, the captain received a...telepathic communique from a woman claiming to be a traveling companion of Merle’s - she knew enough about him, John, and the intel we’d given to verify it - and basically...explained a lot of what John hadn’t told us.” 

__

“I assume that both of you know the content of that conversation already, so I will skip a bit forward here. Suffice it to say, the good doctor explained specifically that it is your belief John’s separated existence from this “Hunger” could prevent both from reaching the next plane, and set out a plan of action with this “Lup” that took this as fact.”

Sisko would nod at this, and likely plan to have a conversation with Bashir about what the good doctor was allowed to “explain” to Garak. Garak would feel a pang of pity, and move on.

__

Garak would like to say that, in the years since the occupation, he had taken admirably little advantage of certain vulnerabilities he knew still existed in Cardassian hardware. Of course, he would be perfectly willing now to inform Chief O’Brien of the specific back door he had used to access the files on John. The fact of the matter was, however, that his conversation with Julian had left Garak more than a little concerned, and he’d wanted to see for himself what kind of ‘unacceptable risk’ John presented.

What he had seen in the Holo-Recording was...well, it was disturbing to say the least. Not only had the murder been a rather grisly affair, and John’s abilities certainly intimidating, but John himself had been quite the scene. It was unknowable what someone that...blasé about existence and importance in and of itself, not to mention someone who ascribed to that so zealously, might do if given the chance. 

Less disturbing had been the scientific reports filed over the past almost-year by Dax and Bashir. The connections between John and this ‘Hunger’ - which had been connected to odd reports from Derna - in both biology and presence had been a most interesting read, and the Doctor had many theories on what might affect it all. Garak had also been struck by Dax’s burgeoning new theory about the theoretical extent to which John, the ‘Starblaster’, as it had been called, and the ‘Light of Creation,” reset at the beginning of each proposed cycle. 

__

“Please, get to the point, Garak,” Odo would grumble.

__

What Garak had found truly outrageous, however, was the log and recommendation file he had found written by the Captain as to Starfleet’s plans for John.

__

“I mean, truly, Captain, I knew you took responsibility for his humanity, but it was a rather risky proposal to suggest maintaining an enclosure on the station.” Garak would say, emboldened enough to prod. 

“I was suggesting the possibility that the risk of moving John might be too great, not that I should look after him.” Sisko would reply in a dangerously even voice that made Garak’s bottom lip twitch even now. 

“Yes,” Garak would say, “The doctor reasoned as much when I brought my concerns to him, as well. Of course, I didn’t say what information I had at the time.”

__

Julian’s exhaustion from earlier had seemed to multiply when he looked up from his research to answer Garak’s questions. All of the old samples he had taken were spread across his desk, and he was surrounded by PADDs all scrolling through collections of data which Garak could only assume was on John. 

“So,” Garak had said, voice growing louder with irritation, “Because of the possibility that John might escape custody in transit to a more secure location, we are all in danger in the case that he escapes here and decides to go on a little consumptive rampage.”

“Captain Sisko is merely trying to weigh the risks to the greater population, Garak, before something happens.” The Doctor’s throat had sounded scratchy with underuse. “I would think you could understand that.” 

“What I understand, Doctor, which no one else seems to is that the greater population would likely be served if someone removed the risk point blank. ” He had sounded intentionally petulant, inviting debate that never came. 

“Maybe, but if this Lup is right, we may not want to risk killing him and then having no way to understand nor deal with...the rest of him.” Julian had indicated his desk as if to say ‘what do you think I’ve been doing for the past four hours, you idiot.’ Garak had thought back to the reports, where a much less exhausted Julian had made a note to check on John’s rather faint brain patterns after Parley. 

“Now that is curious.” Garak had pondered aloud, moving closer to the desk.

“What is, Garak?” Bashir had replied distantly, returning to his work.

“That’s the second time today I’ve suggested to you that Starfleet ought to consider killing John, and yet you’ve not uttered a peep about your duty to preserve life. Why is that, Doctor? Abandoning your Hippocratic Oath?”

“No.” Julian had croaked out far too slowly “However, in light of the...circumstances around John’s outburst, I cannot responsibly fail to consider the possibility that he may pose a greater danger than we are able to predict, and that destroying this ‘Hunger’ may...have to result in him as a casualty. I, we may have to accept that John as an individual is...beyond our help. Maybe he always was.”

“Not a very Starfleet stance, Doctor.” Garak had kept a teasing lilt in his voice, though not an unkind one. 

“Possibly not.” Bashir had murmured softly, before adding with a bitter chuckle, “Though I would think that would make you proud of me, Garak? For finally putting your lesson about sentimentality being a weakness to good use?”

“Ordinarily, it would.” Garak had inched closer to where the Doctor was sitting, leaning in gently. “Though I fear my lessons are being put to use in the wrong direction. ”

“How so? Because they don’t result in your desired outcome?” Bashir had been wry.

“Because you missed the point, Doctor. I told you that alongside the object lesson that the weakness brought by sentimentality can get you killed. You, meanwhile, are cutting yourself off from that weakness to further endanger yourself in the process.” Garak had put a hand on the Doctor’s shoulder before smiling gently and leaving the man to stew in those words. 

Garak would never admit that, in a way, what he planned to do after that was incredibly sentimental. 

__

Garak would promise that he would tell the Constable after his story was done the exact workaround he had been saving to confuse both the energy barrier for John’s holding cell and set up a remote transport sequence in the USS Rio Grande without anyone noticing. Suffice to say he had long anticipated incarceration during his time on Terok Nor, and a remote transport code was easy to program once one spent long enough issued with a comm badge, and even longer with someone else’s, such as Bashir’s. He would also, of course, tell Odo how he had overridden the docking clamps, it was all truly very simple work, barely even worth calling it hacking. 

The important thing here was that, during Odo’s rare off hours, Garak had snuck into the security office, politely removed the officer on duty from consciousness, and then had opened John’s holding cell. 

“Garak.” The man had echoed, voice like seven different voices at once. “What a pleasant surprise. What brings you here?” He had been far too happy for a man in prison.

“Get up, and come with me.”

“Why?” He had been reclining, but the sight was anything but relaxing. John’s face had seemed to shift under him now, as if that liquid was replacing his innards. He’d had...more eyes than most humans. 

“I’m collecting on a favor. ” In spite of Garak’s precautions, they had precious few seconds.

“It seems more that you’re doing me a favor.” John had said, getting up like he had nowhere to be in a hurry. 

“Oh trust me, I’m getting something out of this. Rio Grande, 2 to beam up, Energize. ” Garak had grabbed onto John’s arm, fairly confident that the transporter would be able to parse the odd biosigns.

“What exactly is that?” John hadn’t even been phased, just entertained as he sat in the co-pilot chair, form undulating unsettlingly, eyes wrapped in black streaked in neon. 

“Simple.” Garak had said, putting some far less simple instructions into the controls “I get you to Derna, you rejoin...whatever the rest of you is, you leave this universe without a second look.”

John had been amused. He had remained amused until the moment he beamed off of the Rio Grande and onto the surface of Derna. 

Even from far away, watching the man sink into the tumorous pool, Garak had been glad that he wasn’t wherever the Hunger was headed next. 

__

“After that, I merely waited until I was collected by the Defiant.” Garak would conclude, hands folded politely in his lap. “I understand that I went against many wishes in this case, but I need it understood that I couldn’t stand by and let Starfleet risk the entire Alpha Quadrant, the Galaxy, on the risks posed to other hypothetical possibilities or realities. Arrest me if you must, but I did what I had to.” This, possibly, would be laying it on thick. 

“No.” Odo would interject, “No, I don’t entirely believe it. Even if you feared for your own safety, it would be easier to cut and run, use those workarounds for yourself than it would be to break John out and get him to leave. There’s something you’re not telling us.”

“Constable, so suspicious.” Odo would remain in unamused silence. “Very well. There is more to this story, but” He would pause to look meaningfully at Sisko “You may not want to hear it.”

“Go ahead.” Sisko would finally sit down, eyes dull.

__

The truth of the matter actually began in Garak’s shop around two months ago. He had been mending - and here, staring at Sisko, he would add a nigh imperceptible pause before his fib - a coat when John had rushed in demanding to know what was wrong with the Senior Staff, insinuating that Garak would know anything about such things. Garak had said as much, and told John that if he really wanted to know, he should ask Sisko, given it was Garak’s understanding the two were... sharing quarters. John had left, and, for the rest of the afternoon, Garak had thought very little of the encounter.

Until, that is, John rushed back into his shop at around one in the morning, possibly a little drunk off of whatever had been served at that gathering in the Ward Room that night - to celebrate the Romulan entrance into the war, if Garak remembered correctly. The man had been in a state to say the least, rambling and stumbling, clutching at his abdomen like he was trying to rip off some kind of enormous leech. Garak would have called the doctor if John had not insisted against it so strenuously. Or, moreover, if his answers to Garak’s questions had not been so… strange. 

“John, please.” Garak had tried to soothe, holding the rather tall human by the shoulders and looking very intensely into his eyes, much as one might do for a panicking friend or subject of interrogation, “What is it that you need.” Quietly, he had also readied his com to ping the good doctor.

“I-I need *hic* I need to get it out, get them out. ” John had moaned, definitely drunk and fumbling with his clothing. 

“Get what out?” Just a few more moments and he could call Bashir.

“ These,” John had grabbed angrily at his own stomach, “They’re too...too small and complicated and shifting... they...they move so independently of me and they make me feel sick. ” Garak had not fully comprehended what John meant, the man had such odd takes on anatomy, after all, but he suddenly got the impression that medical help was not what the man needed. Or, perhaps it was just an artful description of nausea. 

“Alcohol will do that, my friend.” Garak had said, with what he thought was a very proficient mask of friendliness.

“No...it’s...it’s not that, they...they move even without the *hic* drink...they pulse and they make and...and they flow and they’re...so tiny... everything’s so tiny, but they all think it’s so big…” At this point, John had started to cry, a display which had made Garak very uncomfortable, he was ready to admit. 

“Should we get you to the medbay? Or perhaps to your quarters?” Artful though John had been in his descriptions, Garak much preferred to hear it away from his display clothing. 

“Yeah...there’s...maybe...Garak I need you to get something from Bashir for me. It’s a sample. Black goo, ribbons of neon, maybe if I drink it I can…” John had drifted through thoughts as Garak propped him up against the wall to call the medbay. 

“We can discuss that in the morning.” Garak had smiled patiently in that way one only smiles at the drunk “I believe, my friend, that you have enough in your system for now.”

__

As it turned out, when John had returned to him in the morning sporting a nasty-yet-curable hangover, the request for the sample had been in earnest. Garak had almost flat out refused, he was no thief - And here, Odo would make a derisive ‘certainly not’ - but had agreed when, somber and stoic, John had explained his reasoning. Garak was not the type to accept a plan given by someone with nothing to lose, but someone refusing to lose more, well, that was alright with him. 

John was just such a person, at the time. In quiet tones that morning, he had told Garak that his outburst the previous night had been the build up of a kind of disquiet with his newfound existence. He did not want to go into detail, nor to delve further into his comments, which Garak respected. However, John did disclose that, as his familiarity with his mortal body increased, so too did his discomfort. Alcohol seemed to numb it, make him less aware of it all, but he did not wish to sacrifice his dignity for an experiment in humanity. Therefore, if there was a way to push him further back onto the scale of his old self, he would very much like to make an attempt. All of this had made sense to Garak, especially in the light of morning and hindsight. 

Still, had it not been for the fact that he was rather short on owed favors or goodwill at the time, he may not have agreed to this so readily, even in exchange for more information on what exactly the substance was.

__

The task of retrieving the fluids was slightly more simple than John or Garak had expected, merely due to Garak’s qualifications and - and here he would take a pause - dynamic with Doctor Bashir. Certain attempts to make the overlaps in their respective schedules more...mutually convenient had led to Garak having a general notion of when the man would and would not be in his office, and the layout of where he tended to put things. The subject was best not dwelled upon, but suffice is to say that the ‘social visit and dropping off some new literature’ story fed to Doctor Girani had been accepted easily enough. It had also turned out that there was more than one casing, and so Garak had decided to take one and pull a similar such heist later on, once Julian had read or discarded the fiction.

The task was so easy, in fact, that it was not until John’s requests for more hyposprays had gone from biweekly, to weekly, to daily, that Garak began to suspect he had entered into a bargain that was more trouble than it was worth. He had brought this up to John, thinking him reasonable, but had been waved off with an odd mix of desperation and disaffected charm.

He had tried a second time, in spite of himself. Though Garak prided himself on his ability to keep a professional distance and make rational decisions for his own survival, he also saw just a little too much of someone familiar in John’s actions. Addiction was rather an unpleasant fate, even when it is a path one, in some way, has chosen. Though it had nearly cost Garak his life, he had to admit he had been grateful the doctor had so stubbornly helped him to break free of the implant.

Perhaps, had he been Doctor Bashir, he would have tried to convince John a third time. 

__

“So there you have the real story. I endangered the entire galaxy because I felt sentiment, familiarity with his predicament, and wanted a favor. I then endangered a hypothetical reality to fix my mistake. Simple guilty conscience. You can understand that, can’t you, Captain?” Garak would act almost like he wanted to be punched, and so Sisko would not punch him. “Does that explain everything, gentlemen?”

“Not... quite. ” Sisko would answer in a dangerously quiet voice which would make Garak wish he would yell, “You wouldn’t have done this if you didn’t have some way of guaranteeing his cooperation, and he definitely would not have refrained from causing a little damage to this reality of his own volition. How did you manage that?” Sisko would sound so sure of the latter, as he was so sure of a lot of things. 

“He asked me quite the same thing.”

__

“Why exactly should I not destroy you once I go down there then.” John had smiled smugly when he said it, and Garak had had a feeling that he knew what his role should be, the little ant proudly standing up to the boot and getting kicked all the same. That was not a role Elim Garak played. 

“Easy.” He had said, grabbing John’s arm again and jabbing him rather hard with a hypospray. “ This.” It had taken a few moments, but soon the amused look had vanished, and been replaced by stony realization. 

“ W ha t did y ou do” John’s voice(s) had faltered, many eyes flashing in and out of their blackened state. 

“Well, John, you surprisingly still have blood. Or at least, your body still recognizes it as blood.” Garak had held up the other thing he had pilfered from Doctor Bashir, a vial of O negative human blood. However, that was not the only thing in the vial, as the blood had turned a sickly brown, as though spoiled. “This works excellently for the conveyance of a number of mutagenic viruses and poisons through your systems.”

“ Y ou ’l l kil l me .” John had choked out. 

“Possibly.” Garak had said with his characteristic ‘kind’ smile, “However, if you rejoin the Hunger and leave this reality fast enough, it is my understanding that you should be reset to your factory settings in the process.”

“ S houl d?”

“I had very little time to check over Dax’s theories, I’m afraid. I’m also rather afraid that, even with your unique physiology, you’ve very little time left, so I suggest you get a move on. Would you like some help getting to the surface?” Garak set a timer for the transporter pad, shifting John’s position so that the horror in the shape of a man was sitting on it. 

“No I...w hy did yo u?” And at this, Garak came in very close.

“Because, my good man. Even while you might know how to live in an infinite existence, I know how to survive .” 

This was the last thing John had heard before the transporter activated. 

__

“So.” Garak would say, finally done telling the truth of the matter - and honestly questioning why people bothered with the truth - “Sabotage, Release of prisoners, conspiracy, damage of property, smuggling, theft, and possible endangerment of other realities. How much jail time does that add up to, in the eyes of the Federation?” He would ask this politely, amusedly, and unapologetically. Sisko would sigh. 

“Given the...theoretical nature of the incident, with other realities, and with not only the War itself but your involvement in it until present, Starfleet has decided to commute a life sentence, in repayment for further help ending the war.” Here, Odo would scoff. “This is entirely dependent on how useful you prove to us, or more so, to me.” The captain would sound more tired than angry, but the threat would still be appreciated. “You will still be in here for...a while, to say the least, and after the war...I don’t know what will happen. It will depend on how it ends for us. And on if you give us all of your remaining back doors into our system.” 

“Quite a light sentence. I hear Starfleet has been in the business of indefinite detentions as of late.” Garak would not mean to be hurtful, he just would be. “Did you vouch for me, Captain?”

“No.” Sisko would reply with the air of a man telling someone exactly who they owed their life to. “It was Doctor Bashir.”

“Ah,” Garak would reply, without emotion, “Did he now.”

“See that you don’t let him down.”

And so, Garak would be left alone to wonder how he had gotten so sentimental. 

__

Later, unbeknownst to Garak, Odo, or anyone, Captain Benjamin Sisko would return to his quarters, and very calmly sit on the bed that belonged first to his son, and then to his...to John. He would calmly pick up the baseball replicated to match the one John had caught in the holosuite, and he would very calmly throw it against the wall, watching it bounce back to him. 

He would very calmly think about what he had seen that day, as he scrambled to stop John and Garak from leaving, stop John from rejoining the Hunger. He would very calmly recall, as he had rushed to the Defiant, that the station had been, for a few moments, enveloped by a dark cloud filled with neon and eyes. He would very calmly recall all of the eyes searching for someone on the promenade, and landing on him. He would very calmly recall those eyes blinking before sliding off the station, through the wormhole, and out of existence.

He would very calmly wonder how John was doing in whichever reality he landed in, how the team tasked with stopping him were doing.

He would very calmly tell himself that it shouldn’t matter to him if the man, the monster that John was was okay.

Funny how calm we can be while lying to ourselves.

Chapter Text

Benjamin Sisko had - for the moment - left the flow of linear time. This was good, especially in the capacity that it meant he was not dead, but it was also confusing for everyone involved, including the ones who had made it happen. The Prophets, after all, still had very little notion of what it meant for something to be temporary, especially if that something was also them. However, Sisko was, for many reasons, reticent to leave the whole of linear existence behind permanently, so the whole conception for him was just a bit off. 

“The Sisko will walk the path.” Was all the Prophets could say when he asked how long this would take. He asked no further follow up questions, but got the sense that where the path “ended” was where he would end up when he returned to linearity.

The path itself wasn’t so much a path as it was a sense. His form turned corners he didn’t see. Every so often, he would come about a pocket of time. 

Sometimes, he would walk through moments from his childhood, his marriage, or his time on the station. Sometimes, he would walk through moments after he returned, a version of the universe that knew where he was, and where he could watch Jake get older and move on, knowing his father was there and loved him. Kasidy would smile at him and say he was “still a bit off.” 

Sometimes, he would walk through the memories of people he loved. He saw Kira’s memories from the Resistance, all three Daxes honing their crafts, and Odo learning his existence. He saw Kasidy boarding her ship for the first time. He saw Jennifer’s death through Jake’s eyes, twice, and had to sit down while the other prophets huddled around him and urged him forward. 

“The Sisko must walk the path.” One said. “The Sisko must move past time, must move past this. ” 

“Is that what this is all for? To move me past linearity?” If that was the case, then why the memories where Jake said he was home already?

“It is to allow you to choose to, if you so wish.” They disappeared after saying so. 

At one point, he stumbled into a memory...no, no it wasn’t a memory. It was a pocket of time made to look like a memory. He was on a beach, but not the one where he met Jennifer, though that felt like the Only Beach sometimes. It was empty except for the two suns that set in the distance, mirroring the two figures sitting on the dunes. Like Sisko, neither were really dressed for the beach. One was decked in armor, though it did look like said armor was made of wood and covering a ‘hawaiian t-shirt’, as they were once called, barely buttoned. The other was in a suit, though he’d rolled up the sleeves. 

He walked towards the figures to get a lay of the land, figure out why the Prophets sent him here, when suddenly the one in the suit turned towards him, and a pair of grey eyes widened, and suddenly he was running. A voice in his head, one that sounded like the man he ran to but Wrong, told him to move past this. He ignored it. 

“John!” 

Now, what he did when he reached the man who had Duped Him into believing he could change might seem odd, but it must be understood that he had been unable to hug people in real time as of late. 

“Ben- I mean Sisko- I mean Captain!” John stammered out as the man in question held onto him tightly, seemingly ignoring the evil he had done. “What are you doing here?”

“I ah...it’s a long story. I’ve been separated from linear time for the moment.”

“Did you do this...intentionally?” John asked, eyebrow quirked. Ben had missed this. Linear. 

“I...Sort of?” This answered exactly nothing, but something in Ben seemed to calm down to the point of lucidity, and he inched away a little. However, he still kept a grip on John’s shoulders, almost as if making sure he couldn’t leave. “John...what happened to you? ” John became instantly uncomfortable.

“Probably what you were hoping would happen. Eventually, Merle and the rest...caught up with me, stopped me. Actually, I think Garak’s whole poison thing probably helped, too. You really should give the man a medal.” he laughed awkwardly, and Sisko got a pang of that afternoon in the holosuite. 

“I’ll pass it along, but that’s not what I meant. What...what happened that made you want to...return to this?”

“I told you. I was always going to-”

“No, you didn’t, and you weren’t.” Sisko’s voice cut through the rationalisation.

“Fine. I...I got scared. I got scared because I didn’t know how to... be. How to interact with people, when all of those interactions require choices and make impacts. I’d forgotten so much at that point, but it took knowing you to realize that. Merle…” John gestured to the shorter man next to them, watching the whole exchange in silent wonder, “Merle and his compatriots...helped me remember.”

“By beating your ass in, but yeah.” Merle added sheepishly. Ben looked to John, and he didn’t look very beaten up. He looked...tired. Tired but happy. It was a good look on him. 

“You... also helped me to remember.” John cautiously brought a hand up to Sisko’s arm. 

“Then...you’re ready to be human? That’s...that’s wonderful, John.” Ben couldn’t help the sad smile that crossed his features, nor that John caught it, and held a little tighter onto Ben’s wrist.

“I...know you can’t exactly forgive me for what I’ve done. You shouldn’t, either.”

“No. I can’t. Not...not yet at least.” This wasn’t his first penitent betrayal. “Maybe...maybe someday? Given time and...given you show that you can change?” John’s eyes widened, and then became very, very sad. He laughed a little.

“Oh. Oh silly me, I. I probably should have been more clear. Ben, this...this is my death. When those suns set...I’ll disappear.”

“I see.” Sisko’s throat suddenly felt very dry. 

“Hey, hey, we don’t know that for certain. ” Merle interrupted, moving his tiny form in between the two of them. 

“It’s pretty likely, Merle. You guys...pretty much killed me. I don’t know exactly how I’m supposed to walk out of this.” John’s hand still gripped onto Sisko’s arm but it was more awkward.

“Yeah, but...let’s not treat it like a done deal, okay? Let’s just...uh...let’s just sit down for a while, okay?” 

And so they did. They sat, and talked, and filled each other in on what had happened since their last meeting. John was sad to hear of Jadzia’s passing, but happy to know Garak had been karmically punished for the whole “breaking him out of prison” thing. Ben was…interested, but not happy in what John had been doing over the years, but intrigued by what had happened when John had invoked Parley, and fascinated by the whole of the Starblaster’s journey. Both were flat out disgusted when Merle talked about the vines covering the Bank of Goldcliffe in lurid detail. They talked, and laughed, and eventually the laughter died down as much as the sunlight did. The suns set to darkness and John looked like he might cry either out of grief or relief, but before either type of tear could come out of him, Merle stood up.

“Alright, I’m not that good at goodbyes, especially ones like this, so. I’m gonna go now. Cap’n?” Ben looked up from where he was leaning back next to John. “It was good to finally meet ya. Hope this...weird time thing goes well for ya, an’. Take care, and take care of him, alright? Even if just for a couple moments.”

“Of course.” Sisko shook the Dwarf’s proffered hand. 

“An’ John?”

“I was wrong and I’m sorry?” John phrased it like a question, but Merle shook his head and hugged him. It was a little awkward, what with the height difference and all, but it was also warm, and John was coming to find that he liked it when people hugged him. He reached down so he could hug Merle properly, for far longer than any normal person would hug for, and far tighter than that.

“I’m gonna go kick the rest of your ass, but. Yeah. I’ll miss you, you bastard.” Merle wiped a tear off as he pulled away, smiling, and waved goodbye as he faded out. John stared at his hands for a few moments, which had just been full of dwarf, and then looked to Ben. 

“Well, I think that’s your cue. Unless you’d like to stay behind and check I’m really dead. That might be for the best, actually.” Ben took that moment to look John over again. 

He looked so much older, even by the standard of how much time had passed for him. Maybe especially, given the extenuating circumstances Merle mentioned. He was also much more frail, bones jutting out, as if something had been siphoning his food as of late, like a giant tapeworm. His eyes still glittered with those bands of gold, red, green, but they had shone differently in the dusklight. Now, they were just part of him, like they’d been at the beginning. Now they reached for him not out of hunger, but out of...something else. 

“You don’t have to go.” He said before he knew what was going on. “You could always...come with me.”

“Would...would that even work?” John asked, confused.

“I don’t know. This hasn’t exactly been explained to me but- maybe-.” The Sisko must leave this behind. It cannot walk the path with you. The voice in his head sounded...unsure, but maybe that was for the best. So much of his path was still so uncertain now. “But if your choices are either to try something that might not work and might kill you, or definitely die here, we might as well try, right?” He quirked an eyebrow playfully, and John smiled. 

“I suppose you’re right.” They walked back to where Sisko had entered the beach, only for John to stop him right before they crossed the rippling threshold where the scene ended. 

“You know, whatever happens, it won’t hurt.” Ben took his hand comfortingly.

“Oh that’s not it. In fact, I’d welcome it. It’s...I’ve done so much wrong, Ben, and...and I have no right to any of this. I...this is some sort of step in your victory and I...I kind of put a wrench in all that.”

“John-”

“No, let me finish. Morally, I deserve none of this, so I’ll be fine if- if nothing comes of it but. I think I just need to try this once, before I go.” Before Sisko could ask what, John leaned forward and kissed him gently. It was barely even a kiss, just a few seconds of pale lips pressed to his, gone just as he was getting used to them. 

In another story, Sisko would have pushed back in and initiated a much deeper kiss, but that was not the bond they had, though he still didn’t pull away. Even if this did work, he wouldn’t do much about that kiss for a while yet. Not till he was sure John was ready to do the work reciprocation entailed. Besides, he had a family to be getting back to, eventually. Instead, Ben merely blinked twice.

“Are you ready?” He eventually said when he had processed what had happened. 

“Yes. I...I think I am.”

When John had become The Hunger, it had in part been due to the ennui at an eternity that could not be perceived. When he had returned to The Hunger after months of humanity, it had been in part because he could not bear the effect he, or any human, had on other people. 

Now, years later, with time to think on it and someone with the good sense to punch him very hard in the face, he took Ben’s hand, and followed him right into an unknown eternity.