Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Growing up, the Siskos went to church.

Even as a child, Ben was never much of a believer in organized religion. It was the 24th century after all. But they were a church-going family. Mama’s daddy had been a pastor in a small church in Houston before she moved to New Orleans for school. It was at her prompting that got them all in the pews on time. 

Sometimes they'd attend more Sundays one year and less the next. Dad was usually busy with the restaurant, especially on Sundays because the after-church crowd would order dish after dish. 

When Mama called him out on it though, Dad always had some excuse. Dad didn't trust Nathan to be able to handle it, or what if they don't get the specials right. Mama would just shake her head in disappointment, but not say a word. She let him get his way because otherwise Dad would be a fidgeting mess until he got back in the kitchen. 

It might not be as often as Mama would have wanted, but the Siskos always found their way into the pews. They attended the ancient New Zion Baptist Church at the corner of Third and LaSalle. As they got older and busier, it was a guarantee they'd at least be there on the major holidays. Cause if they missed a minute of Easter mass…Ben didn't even want to think about how mad Mama would be. 

Toward the end of mass during one of their more frequent years, Ben was finally baptized.

He was 12 and old enough to declare himself a believer, though he wasn't sure. Was it wrong to say yes as he stood in the crisp white gown? He thought it might be, but even so, he waded into the pool of blessed water. 

The preacher’s hands cradled his head as he spoke. Ben focused on the hand on the back of his neck, the fingers pressed into the door behind his ear. He'd watched so many baptisms over the years so he knew what to expect. Some kids splash around, maybe because they were scared or wanted to act up. But Ben? He was calm. He was ready. 

With a deep inhale, Ben was dipped back into the cool water. It ran over him, cleansed him. He was at peace. 

When he sat brought back up, most of the preacher's final words were a muffle in his ears. But as Ben blinked the water out of his eyes, he saw Judith focusing the lense of her holovid camera on him (which she promised not to do, the jerk). Beside her was Mama and Dad.

His blurry vision could make out Joseph with his hands up in praise and the largest smile he’d ever seen on the old man’s face. Rebecca was wiping away her tears of joy very lightly to try not ruining her makeup. Mama's pink blush still smeared though.

As much as Ben doubted, he was glad this all made them happy. It made it all worth it. 

And for the handful of Sundays that Ben continued to go to church, it still offered him a sense of peace as they sang in worship to a God he wasn't sure he believed in.

———

Major Kira had been acting strange toward him ever since he was declared the Emissary. The savior of her people. It was understandable, but it troubled Ben. Most team-building and morale-boosting exercises weren't designed to handle such a delicate situation. So Ben decided to try something a little unorthodox: He invited her to grab drinks at Quark's.

The rest of Ops came too, but only Kira, Dax, and Bashir remained after thirty minutes or so. Kira nursed her drink making attempts to grab Dax's attention. When Ben tried to draw her into conversation, Kira avoided his eyes again and again. With a sigh, Ben took a new approach—they'd play a drinking game.

It was a game Curzon had taught him when they were stationed on the USS Livingston. Hopefully, unlike all those nights out with the Old Man, it wouldn't end in a fight. Instead, he wanted them to leave here seeing more eye to eye than before.

“Dax taught me this game a long time ago, Major. Let's give it a try.”

Dax, hearing her name, looked over from her place a few seats over. She’d been mercilessly teasing Doctor Bashir. “What ga…Benjamin, no.”

"What are we children?" Major Kira crossed her arms. “And if she’s hesitating, I don't think I even want to play.”

Ben's elbows were on the table and he propped his chin on his fist. The slight stubble of his 5 o'clock shadow was scratching against his knuckles. How he longed to grow a goatee again.

But Kira's resistance was all it took for Dax to straddle the nearby chair while a deflated Julian stood maybe to leave, but Ben called over to him.

“We could use another referee. This one,” he pointed to Dax. “Can't be trusted to give a clear call.”

“Excuse me, Benjamin, you're the one—”

“No, excuse me,” said Kira, growing irritated. “I haven't even agreed to this game yet. So someone explain it, please.”

Though Kira’s voice had taken on a no-nonsense tone, she hadn’t directed it at Ben, but at Dax. It was progress.

“The game is called Mind Meld.”

“Like a Vulcan mind meld?” Bashir piped in as he plopped down in the chair he dragged over.

“Yes exactly! But no hand stuff. Unless...,” Dax smirked, waggling her eyebrows, and Ben shot her a look. “Never mind. Anyways, you two will stare into each other’s eyes for 10 seconds. We’ll keep time. Then when we say go, you both say the first word on your mind. If it's the same word or within the same category it counts. If it doesn't, then you both have to drink.”

Kira nodded slowly toward Bashir. “And we’ll need two judges for this?”

“Of course!” Dax grinned. “How else do we make sure the game is fair? A cross-cultural mind meld could get dicey.”

“Alright, let's do this.”

An hour later, when they both shouted “Kai Opaka" with glee, Kira was hit with a fit of giggles that mutated into hiccups.

Her face was red, but not once since the start of the game did she hide her gaze from Ben’s. No more downcast eyes. Hopefully, it stuck because Kira was not the type of woman to do such a thing if it weren’t out of holy deference. It bothered Ben because he was far from holy.

By the night’s end, they were all stupidly drunk on synthale. Kira had gotten comfortable enough with him to argue back like she did before he was named Emissary. She finally saw him as a man again, at least for a few hours. He was glad of it. Ben respected her religion, he really did, but he couldn't be her commander and the equivalent of her Pope. 

As they all walked to the habitat ring, Bashir and the Major were arguing about something up ahead when Jadzia laid a hand on his arm. They paused under the dim lights of the Promenade. 

“I didn't expect you to take a page out of Curzon’s book,” said Jadzia in a hushed tone, a bright pink flush to her cheeks. He’d need to tease her about her new inability to hold her alcohol another night. She continued talking.

“You're much better at this than he was, Ben.”

He laughed in disbelief. “Not by much, Old Man. The night just didn't end in a fistfight or going into a dark corner with someone. But getting drunk with your officers is still not in the command handbook.”

Jadzia hummed her agreement. But it was Dax's sad smile that greeted him when he looked over at the beautiful young woman. Curzon still swam behind her blue eyes. 

“Ben, I…he didn't say it. But Curzon was sorry.”

“For what?” Ben knew what, but he shrugged it off. This wasn't a topic he wanted to discuss ever. “Nothing to be sorry about.” 

This was true because Curzon was dead, Ben would have to take it up with him in the next life. It wasn't Jadzia's burden.

“Ben…there were so many things. You were young and impressionable. I took advantage of you and it was wrong. I should have been better."

“Can't we all? Be better, I mean. And look at you, Old Man, you've already upgraded.” Ben brought her into a short hug and whispered. “Don't worry about it, it's all water under the bridge.”

———

Sarah was Sarah again. Ben watched her hold his toddler self tight against her. Rocking back and forth, back and forth. It soothed him as much as it soothed her. Still, her face was wet with tears. She had been promised salvation. A family. Love. 

She didn’t know who she was anymore after two years so disconnected from her body. What is a soul with no tether? No universe to fall back into like Ben? Sarah had no answers and no one to heed her calls. Or so she thought. 

Ben arrived to answer her prayers or he would someday. He knew it was as inevitable as the door firmly shutting on Sarah’s shuttle toward Australia. She’d be gone as fast and as far as she could go on Earth from their tiny piece of New Orleans. 

Sarah could have gone further, of course, but space was not for her. Not anymore. She'd already given too much to the stars. The baby in her arms wriggled, and Sarah bit her bottom lip hard. She loved him and she loved Joseph. But this wasn't her life. It just wasn't.

Leaning down, Ben brushed his lips against her forehead though it wasn't felt. His grasp of form was an art lost to him. Still, Sarah continued to pray, cradling the human version of him. His child eyes heavy with time already. 

Ben sighed. It was time to go. He stepped through a door and adjusted his uniform as the edge of the universe raced to greet him.

“It's just a uniform, Ben,” Cal had once said. Ben at the time didn’t want to believe that one of his closest, dearest friends could say such a thing. It wasn’t just a uniform, not after everything they’d bled for and cried over.  

The Ben of now and forever no longer had a body. Yet, he still dressed his soul in his uniform as he crossed eternity as easily as making grits on a lazy Sunday morning. 

Stir and stir. Boil the water. Add the stone ground grits. Stir and stir. Even now, so far away, he could hear his dad’s voice. “Easy now with all that salt. I didn’t get this hypertension from nowhere.” 

Ben pinched and reality was nothing more than stray grains of sea salt to wipe off the counter. Spinning the planets into motion was as quick as setting down a full bowl of grits just like Mama used to make. 

But when Ben eventually returned home as promised, he wasn’t sure if he could remember how to breathe. How to be inside a body again. After all, how could a soul stretched across the fabric of reality be condensed back into bone and tissue? 

He’d deal with it when the moment finally arrived. In the meantime, he still wore his uniform. Still wiped the pips on his collar until they shined like stars. 

———

Mama was singing about the stars with her beautiful voice. The restaurant was quiet except for the tapping of silverware and customers chewing. They were a captive audience and Ben was among them. Mama’s deep, soulful voice filled the room. She could have sung professionally, but instead of concert halls, she was out front at Sisko’s. Now how many people in the Quarter said the same thing, but her voice was magic. Ben was sure of it.

“You could be a famous singer, Mama,” Ben said one night as he snuggled up against her on the piano stool. He watched her fingers fly over the keys. Occasionally, he’d get a chance to play a part he learned and they practiced all week. His part would be coming up, but now it was time for a break. 

His mama, Rebecca, grinned and placed her water back on the coaster resting on the top of the piano. She pulled Ben tight against her and she smelled like spun sugar.

“I’m exactly where I want to be, baby. With you and your daddy.” She said with her ruby-lipped smile and gently tapped his nose. “Right here.” 

———

Ben of yesterday had dreamed of his wife and son. It was beautiful. Strange. Because there they were on a beach at night. It definitely wasn’t Gilgo beach because five moons hung across the sky. But his tongue knew the name of the planet, the shape of it though he had never stepped foot on its surface before. Bajor.  

Thousands upon thousands of lanterns floated high in the night sky. It reminded Ben of a festival of lights he’d attended on Earth. The only difference was that this was on a planet wide scale. He stepped forward and stopped in the gritty sand. 

Because there was his wife, but not his wife. Not Jennifer. In the logic of dreams, it was difficult to explain. But he knew who she was to him. His wife was stunningly beautiful though she was different from Jennifer’s breeziness. She had grey in her hair as she fiddled with a paintbrush. Oh, Ben wanted to kiss her. Kasidy. Yes. That was her name. Looking so cute as her tongue poked out the side of her lips as she concentrated and painted on the thin paper of a lantern. 

Ben turned to the boy…no, the man who sat beside her on a blanket. Ben of the dream squinted and realized it was Jake. Even though he was older, his head shaved, there was no mistaking it. His son still looked just like Jennifer. 

“Hey,” said a soft voice beside him. 

His head whipped around to see a tall, lanky Black girl with long box-braids watching him expectantly. She was a teenager, maybe a little older than fifteen or sixteen. While she did not have the distinct nose of a Bajoran, she did have a d'ja pagh on her ear. It sparkled in the thousands of lights above them.

“Houston, do we have a problem?” The girl adjusted her backpack, a rolled-up poster was sticking out of it. “You gotta lay off whatever Auntie Dax gave you. Blood wine can’t be good for the brain.”

Ben’s heart raced. He tried to find the words, but his tongue felt thick and congealed. 

“Oh!” The girl exclaimed as disappointment flooded her features and then she nodded knowingly. Her earring chimed against the ornaments on her braids, “You’re not him yet, are you? Sorry.”

Then Ben woke up with a rattling gasp. The sheets beneath him were soaked and Jake was crying in his crib. Ben rubbed his eyes, trying to cling to the images from the dream, but it slid from him. Forgotten. 

All that was left was the twinge of guilt in his chest when he glanced over at Jennifer trying desperately to get some sleep. He reached over and adjusted her bonnet which had slipped off in the night. Then with a soft sigh, he got up to cradle Jake against his chest until his baby boy calmed. 

———

Sometimes Sarah would sit by him in the holographic clouds of the holosuite. In a sense, a kaleidoscope of memories stacked on top of memories. Ben could go into the stands to be with his family and friends again, but it hurt more somehow. Pretending to be whole again.

Once she’d asked him, the Prophets—all of them, speaking through her, “Is this what living is like?”

“Not all the time, but pretty damn close.”

She stared at him then studied his cobbled together family below. It amused Ben then and now how they hadn’t known nothing about baseball at this point, but still they went wild when Buck Bokai hit a home run. It was good fun. Ben regretted the fact he didn’t encourage them all to do it more before the war. Before all of this. He missed them as much as a spirit could. 

“We see.” Sarah, the Prophets, his mother, his creator, studied him closely. “We begin to understand why you crave it. The linear.”

“Then let me go home before it's too late.”

“...What is late?”

———

Curzon was not like his father. He was foul-mouthed, manipulative, and taller than Ben. Even as a young ensign, Ben had reached his full height and he towered over his own father. Not Curzon though and in a way he leveraged that. 

But Curzon was diplomatic when he needed to be and honorable when the time called for it. He was also charming. Very, very charming. The man didn't need a flute to charm a snake to dance, or spend a long time convincing women, men, or anybody to drop their species’ equivalent of underwear for him. He did it all by himself. 

Ben could think back to every moment Curzon had convinced him or pushed him to do something out of his comfort zone. Curzon always had a glint in his eyes. Sometimes his own machinations, but sometimes he was so full of all the people he was before and all the people he would be after. It only added to Curzon’s charm, those ghosts. 

Those eyes. Back then, Ben never understood what it was about Curzon and later Jadzia and even Ezri that drew him in exactly. But the Ben of forever knew better than anyone now, even a symbiont. In a strange way, Curzon had been his first teacher before the Prophets of what it meant to live a life again and again.

As an ensign stuck on the lower decks, Ben craved to be more. To be somebody. He and Calvin Hudson had a pact that they would both be Admirals by forty. He smiled at the young man he had once been. A damn fool. 

Tall, still a bit gangly. His dark brown skin was smooth with youth, but the laugh lines were already forming as were the creases between his brows. He’d been a hot head and Curzon only fanned the flame. 

Ben could taste the blood coating his mouth. The sharp pain in his rib from a surprise punch he hadn't even thought to block with the alcohol whizzing in his veins.

This was typical. The nights at the bars with Curzon always ended with a pain of some kind. Be it a fight at the bar or a person's nails clutching at him, Ben could expect Curzon’s spurring and encouragement in the background.

Instead of fucking, that night had been a fight. Over what? Young Ben had no idea, but regardless he was pressed back to back with Curzon as a group of Orions surrounded them. It should have been easy enough, but Ben had been too drunk for an accurate assessment. So when he went flying into a table, his jaw aching, it took a long time for him to even lift his head up. 

Curzon’s face came into focus above him. Curzon with that damn grin wide as he held out his hand to help Ben up. The proceeding pats on his back were too hard, a Klingon behavior that leaped out of Curzon whenever they were in a scrap. 

“There you are! You're still in it!” Shouted Curzon as he tackled the guy closest to them. 

Ben of then laughed bitterly. With blood on his teeth, he raised his fists and together they sent the Orions packing. 

The Ben of now and forever laughed heartily.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Judas. 

There was a story in the Bajoran books of prophecies similar to the tale of Judas and Jesus, but a Vedek betraying the Kai didn't have the same weight for Ben. Not the same as a man betraying another God made flesh. If that was what he was now. 

For a handful of silver, Judas had kissed Jesus. Not because it was an easy way to mark him to the hungry Romans, but because he wanted to. Two benefits to his betrayal. A kiss immortalized in silver and silver stained with a kiss. 

Cal had only kissed him twice and Ben wondered if that somehow increased the pain. Or simply darken the stain?

It was a typical night after messing around with Curzon at the bars. Together they were each other’s crutch as they took to the streets, drunk and on the wrong footing. 

Cal tapped his cheek as they spoke in what they thought was a hushed whisper. But Ben of the now and forever could hear how their voices reverberated off the deserted streets at 3 in the morning. Somehow after another wild night, the two drunks made it back to their beds in one piece. 

“Nighty night, Don't let the girlfriends bite.” Cal had slurred as he pulled the covers up to Ben’s shoulders tight. They giggled like they weren’t almost full grown men, but boys at a sleepover. Then Cal leaned down and kissed Ben on the forehead. His full lips were smooth. The moment felt poignant. Charged. They never spoke of it again. 

The next time had been at Ben’s wedding. 

Cal had been one of his groomsmen and he’d been one of his when he married Gretchen. His best man actually. Ben had intended for Cal to be his best man because he knew better than to ask Curzon. The Trill would be at the wedding without a doubt, but Ben knew him well enough to know he would only want to mingle. And planning a Bachelor party? Ha! Jennifer wouldn’t even speak to him again if Ben let the Old Man plan. 

So Cal was who he was going to approach, until Judith pitched a fit to Mama about it. Even at twenty-five, all grown, when his mama gave him that look, Ben was a little boy again. 

“Why you making her cry, Ben?” 

“Mama, please, Judith is too old to be acting like this.”

“Well, she’s hurt, she's not your best person,” said Rebecca who then turned her head to cough. “You’d be hurt too, don’t act like you wouldn’t be.” 

“Are you still sick? Let me go make you some tea.” 

“Boy, if you change the subject one more time….” Rebecca waved a hand at him as she cleared her throat. “Go talk to your sister and tell her she’ll be your best person.”

Like a good son, he begrudgingly did it, and it turned out for the best. 

Though it made the Bachelor party a bit more family friendly, it was a good choice since Curzon was well...Curzon. And Judith was pretty good at party planning. She was a big help at organizing the guests and getting the gifts coordinated. Judith did more than most usually did. Shit, she did more than Ben had for Cal’s wedding. 

And as he stood at the altar, waiting for Jennifer to walk down the aisle, Judith squeezed his arm to ground him. Having her as his best person was a smart decision and he whispered his thanks to Mama as they took to the dance floor. 

The band played long into the night. Jennifer spun around in a silver cocktail dress, her beautiful lips a daring shade of red for the reception. Not a bit of lipstick out of place and yet he still found some staining the white collar of his dress uniform. 

Ben slow danced with Judith and Mama. Even though Dad still couldn't take a night off and cooked for the whole event, Ben eventually made him put down the ladle. His old man then showed off and led everyone in the electric slide.

And when Ben was doing a silly little two-step with Cal, Judith's holovid camera caught the moment when Cal planted a big wet kiss on his cheek. They held each other by the scruff of their necks, foreheads pressed close before parting. Ben went on to tease his drunk ass about it for weeks after. 

In hindsight, it all worked out for the best. It was a good memory of one of the best nights in Ben’s life. But it hurt Ben to revisit the moment when he was human, never mind now. 

It hurt for so many reasons. Cal’s betrayal. Judith's breakdown.

And of course because two months later, Mama was dead.

———

“Bajor. You are of Bajor."

A young Black woman whispered the words. Maybe twenty or so she sat in her bed scribbling into a journal. The words hypnotic, a chant, her movements jerky. Even in paradise, paper was expensive, and yet the woman continued to stab a pen into the pages.

It was Sarah. His mother or she would be soon. 

Her thoughts were erratic and full as she'd been seeking an answer to her troubles. Praying to a God who might have listened if something else hadn’t got there first. 

Ben stepped into the room. For the first time since yesterday and a millenia, he was unsure of himself. There was so much he had to do and so much he still needed to learn, but maybe he could do some good. He concentrated, trying to reconfigure himself into a corporeal shape again, at least his throat. 

But he wasn’t fast enough. He hadn’t considered how the Prophets had already been here. He was still thinking too linearly. For the Prophets had already begun making a home in her mind. Sarah glanced up from the journal in her lap and clamored down from her bed. Reaching out for him desperately. 

His mother’s eyes were beautiful. Brown and full of unshed tears and hope. “You’re here. You came!”

Before he could even attempt to warn her, beg her to not do whatever the Prophets had asked of her. Before he could simply tell her to go anywhere but Australia—Ben was yanked away. 

———

Dax stared at Ben in utter disbelief.

“And? What do you want me to tell you, Dax?” Asked Ben with a chuckle.

“That you miss her. That you can't wait to see her. I don't know. Anything. Kira, O'Brien, Bashir, they're all dying of curiosity and, well, I have to tell them something.”

“Fine, you tell them when she gets back,” said Ben, a grin growing on his face. “I'm going to take her to the holosuite and we're going to watch the seventh game of the 1964 World Series. Ha!”

"You do like her,” said Dax beaming. Her smile was electric and infectious when she got around to telling them all the gossip. 

When she arrived a month later, Ben had everything all set up like he’d told Dax. Kasidy beamed up at him as they walked across the green. 

“The holovids did not do this justice,” said Kasidy with awe laced through her voice as she spun slowly to take in the recreation of the Busch Stadium. 

“No, it didn’t. Which is why I reached out to the African-American museum to see if I could get a copy of their holo-recreation. Now everyone can get a rod if they have a holosuite to use it.”

As Ben set up the picnic blanket, Kasidy searched his face for a moment. “You really love this, huh?”

“Don’t you?”

“Of course, I do. But you really love it. Yeah, the game, but also our history in shaping it.”

“It’s important to remember your roots.” Ben nodded with a smile on his face. “Look at your brother out in Cestus III. Starting a team full of other African-American players, but new folks too. Andorians! Shit, never thought I’d see the day. But there they are still playing, hitting home runs light years from Earth.”

“We’ve come so far,” said Kasidy quietly. “And even further to go.”

“Damn right and we will.” Ben squeezed her hand and then reached over to the basket he had prepped with classic snacks. He handed her a bag of boiled peanuts and took out a cracker jack box for himself. She leaned in and kissed him. It was quick, a peck really, but Ben felt his cheeks go hot. 

“Thank you so much, Ben. When I tell my brother he’s going to be so jealous. I get to see Bobby Gibson pitch in living color.”

Of course after such a long time apart, he and Kasidy didn't just watch the game.

They cuddled and chatted. Paused it occassionally to evaluate a players performance and if they really touched the plate. It was a great time. 

And as the game ended, the holographic crowd in the nosebleeds headed out, and the Cardinals celebrated their World Series win on the mound, Kasidy called out to the computer to pause the game one more time. Then his lap was full of her and they ended up making out like two teenagers. He hadn't felt like this in years. Not since….

At the thought of Jennifer, Ben's chest tightened. He pulled Kasidy closer in a mix of guilt and lust. But he knew Jennifer would laugh at that. “Lust? Come on, Ben, we know it's another 4 letter word starting with an L.” 

Kasidy placed her hands on Ben’s shoulders and leaned back to gaze into his eyes. “You doing alright there? I can hear you thinking.”

“Never been better.” Ben laughed and ran his hands down her back. “Especially with you here.”

“Mhmm, I'll believe it when I see those smoothed out.” Kasidy teased as she ran her fingers over the creases between his brows. 

So Ben made sure she got to see how alright he was. Her smooth brown thighs spread open to the sky, legs rested in his palms. Her fingers were so soft against his head as he hit a home run. 

Later, she would describe the first orgasm he gave her as a kaleidoscope of stars spinning behind her eyes. “Has it ever been like that with anyone else? Cause not for me.” She’d mused, breathless as she laid back on the green grass.

Ben of the now and forever returned back to this moment. He was always there. Feeling Kasidy again. His mouth sweetened with the taste of her. The heat in his cheeks at each of her kisses.

It would be alright. It had to be.  

———

The Pai-Wraiths and their hell were stoked within the fire caves. Dukat clutched at him, red eyes wild with lust-filled madness. His body fell away to ashes and scorched scales. 

Ben closed his eyes and saw water. He was being held by the preacher from his old church. Or was it a version of his dad from a long lost dream? It was hard to tell as the water purified him again. The Black hands of a father cradled his head and dipped him below the waves of a Bajoran sea. The water cool against his dark brown skin was bliss. 

He was in pieces. He was at peace. 

The Prophets all of them met him at the crossroads of the universe. A version of himself watched, spread open his arms, welcoming him home.

Ben screamed with a voice no longer made. 

———

Ben of before, age 24, blinked and blinked again. His hand raised up, shielding his face trying to keep the sand out of his eyes.

But in the distance, he saw himself. Impossible. Yet there he was. Younger. Ben glanced at Jennifer who watched him with her eyebrows raised, waiting for him to finish his sentence. His head whipped back to the mirage. 

That wasn’t him. Who was that? The bundle in their arms, a baby. Its fist reached out, fingers clenching at nothing, but air. The white blanket around them was coming undone, flapping like a bird's wings. The sudden grit on the wind kissed his skin roughly and Jennifer squeezed his hand. “You alright, Ben? You zoned out there for a second.”

“I’m alright, baby. I forgot wh—,” Ben started and went to point toward the horizon and to what he’d seen. Nothing was there. Not anymore. 

———

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“Rebecca, your stepmother, came into my life and she loved you like her own. It made no sense to tell you."

“So you lied to me instead? For my whole life? And she was no step anything. Rebecca was my mama. Sarah…I don’t know who she was."

“Of course, I’m sorry, Ben.”

“Any other secrets you want to share?”

Dad sat there for a long moment. “My gumbo recipe, but I'm taking that to the grave.”

Ben of now and forever watched as his father made his famous gumbo recipe. And he realized he did know it. Not a single ingredient was out of place. Ben followed each step with his own hands, though they touched nothing. Changed nothing.

His dad diced the okra, sauteed the andouille, and delicately peeled back the shrimp shells. The blend of spices was even the same. For as long as Ben had been allowed in the kitchen, it was the exact ratio he'd seen his father add a thousand times.

Then Joseph pretended to add a pinch of something like he always did. Acting as if he knew Ben was there watching over his shoulder, trying to uncover the secret. But the action left Dad's lower lip wobbling as he stepped away from the steaming pot to dry his eyes. Regretting everything he’d withheld from his son, gone with the Prophets but not forgotten. 

There was nothing special about the recipe. 

Nothing except love and maybe Ben had always known that.  

———

“You are the Emissary. I don't know if this is the right thing to do or not.” 

Ben of now and forever watched from the outside. As Kira prayed over his prone body. Prayed hard as only a believer could. A true believer. He existed here now at her beckoning.   

He was once a being of linear time, but now was without a line to follow. Still, he heard her call. It was strange watching this and he bent down beside her. 

He was here. He existed here. He wouldn't die here. Thanks to Kira. 

Though she couldn’t feel it, he placed his hands over hers and prayed as well. Not for himself. He prayed his thanks to Kira. Prayed for her life to unfold as beautifully as she made it. For her life to be full of joy just as the Prophets, as he himself had motioned for it to become. 

A shiver went through her. Her tears and chanting dissolved into hysterical chuckles at first. An awful sound of desperation. But the Ben on the floor heard her. He followed her voice, her laugh. He would never ever tell her that she was the one who led him back home. 

One of Ben’s hands clenched into a fist as consciousness came to the edges of his mind. 

Eventually, Kira calmed. Entranced by the words, the prayers, the meditative quality of her chanting. She was confident her prayers would be answered. A confidence well earned. For he was here. 

“Tell me another story,” whispered the Ben on the floor and Kira gave him a teary smile. 

———

Benny Russell sat at his desk. This story refused to leave him, and he cut into the paper with his fountain pen in irritation. He just needed to get the damn thing out. 

The story was about a woman named Sarah. Who prayed and prayed like a good Christian woman of the church should. Who saw visions of a young, handsome street preacher.

It took her weeks of searching, but eventually, Sarah found his pulpit at the crossroads of Broadway and Seventh Avenue. And when the preacher found her eyes in the crowd, the young preacher knew the love of God for the first time.

Then the Holy Spirit took her. Moved through her for two years to beget a son. A boy who would become one with the stars, born just as perfect as she’d always prayed for. But a bargain struck at a crossroads always came with strings. 

When the Spirit left her, Sarah was left just as empty as the day it entered her. 

With a soft kiss to the handsome preacher and the forehead of her son, Sarah ran out in the middle of the night. Took the train out of New York. Ran as far as she could and was dead by 26. Three years of living with the universe lingering in her head. With their protection gone, she was killed in a collision with oncoming traffic.

Benny crumbled it up and threw it in the trash. He was tempted to light it up with the end of his cigarette. 

What a terrible thing to even write about. 

———

“Oh, on and on and on and on. My cypher keeps moving like a rolling stone.” Mama was clearing out one of the rooms upstairs to set up the nursery for Judith. 

She glanced over from the box she was going through and waved Ben to come closer. “Oh hey baby, want to help me? I need to finish sorting these.”

Dropping his little starship, Ben half-crawled, half-stumbled over to his mama, and waited for instructions cause he was a good boy. She showed him how to make some piles of photographs and papers by size while she continued to hum.  

“You know your great-grandma loved this song. She'd play it every time we were cleaning on Saturday mornings.”

Ben smiled. He loved hearing about his family. They were nice and gave him gifts, but they lived so far away in Texas, he didn't get to see them often. 

Mama jumped right back into the song and Ben stared up at her beautiful face.

“If we were made in his image then call us by our names. Most intellects do not believe in God. But they fear us just the same.”  

“What does that mean?” Asked Ben as he put some of the smaller pieces of paper into the small pile.

Mama smiled, “I'll explain it more when you're older, baby. But it just means we deserve to live because we are made in God’s image.”

Ben nodded knowingly. “That makes sense.”

“I know, don't it? Now, let me see how those piles are looking.”

The song played on and on.

———

This was always meant to happen. A loop of time and space. Never ending. 

It was because he entered the wormhole, they made sure he always entered the wormhole. Dukat always followed, always covetous. He was always of the Pai-Wraiths as much as Ben was always of the Prophets. 

It hurt him sometimes when he rewatched this moment. Sometimes Ben would greet himself. Sometimes he’d participate with another face. 

“Who are you?” He will ask himself again and again.

And he watched himself remind them all of who Benjamin Sisko was and always will be. 

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Ben watched his mama die. 

Rebecca, his mama, the woman who raised him since he was two years old, had been hiding her aggressive heart failure. Ben hadn’t known any of that at the time. It had devastated him, her dying. It still did as Ben of now and forever watched the scene unfold. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ben had wanted to shake his father. How could they be so cruel? 

“Son, she didn’t want you to worry and you were getting married soon. Why ruin a nice time?”

“Her dying ruining—,” said Ben in disbelief, pinching the bridge of his nose trying to stave off a headache. 

“She is not dying. The doctor’s confident this heart will take.” 

“It was rejected, Dad.” He didn’t want to be the bigger man, he didn’t want to be the parent in this situation. All he wanted to do was break down in tears, run into his father’s outstretched arms and sob until his shirt was full of Ben’s tears. But no. He couldn't. “It’s rare, but Mama’s body can’t handle it.” 

Joseph shook his head and shook his hand toward Ben’s face in dismissal, rejecting the very idea. 

———

“I'll never forget you in this damn outfit.” Cal kept saying like a broken record as they got more tipsy and the afternoon wore on. Gretchen and Jennifer were walking arm in arm up ahead as they all navigated through the festival.

Cal eventually shouted up to Jennifer. “Jen, you see what he’s carrying back there in these? Don’t let him out in this get up again or you gonna have to fight some people off.” 

“Hudson!” Gretchen screamed with mock outrage, flinging part of her pretzel at Cal’s head. “We get it. You’re jealous and need to take your flabby ass back to the gym and get like Ben.” 

For all the beers Cal had downed, he was surprisingly fast for a drunk. Too many nights out with Curzon. 

“Who you throwing pretzels at?” He growled, pulling Gretchen into his arms, both of them giggling and swaying.

Jennifer shook her head and though she didn’t show it the way they did, she was just as tipsy as all of them. Always cool, his girl. 

Then she surprised him by pinching his behind. 

“Hey!”

“Tsk, I think Cal’s right, Ben. Those lederhosen need to be indoor clothes only going forward.” 

Ben laughed. He threw his arm over her shoulder and she tucked neat under it, grinning up at him with mischievous, sleepy eyes. 

The air smelled of pretzels and bratwurst. Summer air and yeasty beer. The sun was warm on their backs, the sky clear and the day was still young. They were still young. 

It seemed as if this moment would stretch on forever. What a beautiful day that had been.

———

Ben stood in the middle of his childhood room. Before the baseball posters were taped to the wall, it had been his nursery. His crib sat empty. 

A giggle came from the corner. Whipping around, Ben came face to face with his mother. Sarah. She was rocking him gently, a newborn. The Prophets hadn't left her physical body yet. 

She stared up at Ben. Really stared at him. “We did not understand until we had you, Benjamin. You are of Bajor. 

“I am of Earth too.” Ben shook his head. “I have a life, a timeline. I’m not like you, I want to be there for my son and daughter! I need to hold them! My wife is waiting! Please, I can’t keep doing this.”

"Yes." Sarah’s head tilted in confusion. “You are The Sisko.”

Her mouth hung open and Ben winced as light streamed from her eyes and mouth until the world was blinded white. He expected heat and pain. But no, it was startling and ice cold. It was as if Ben had been thrown into the middle of the ocean in winter. Could he even remember how to swim? 

———

“My life, my destiny. The Prophets saved me, Kasidy. I'm their Emissary and they still have a great deal for me to do. But first, there is much to learn. Things only the Prophets can teach me,” said Benjamin Sisko of Deep Space Nine. 

His dear wife, Kasidy, shook in his arms like a maple leaf. Perhaps this wasn't a dream. Maybe she really was in the white emptiness of the celestial temple stretching out all around them. 

“When will you be back?” She whispered. 

Benjamin Sisko held his wife’s hands tight against his heart. “It's hard to say. Maybe a year, maybe yesterday. But I will be back.” 

“And I will be waiting,” Kasidy said beatifically. She meant it.  

Elim Gardner, Benny’s new editor, dropped the pages on the table. 

“It’s good, Benny, but….” Elim sighed and picked up his dreaded red pen to scribble in another note. 

“But what? Good is good,” Benny said as he cleaned his eyeglasses on his shirt. 

Elim for all his faults was a good man and a damn fine editor. Benny had been skeptical when Julius recommended he meet with his roommate. After what he'd been through, Ben was hesitant to work with a white editor again.

But Elim had no problem working with an African-American man. He saw no issue with the fact Benny wrote stories about African-Americans trekking through space. Strangely, Elim seemed to revel in it, his blue eyes sparkled at the very hint of controversy. And he hadn’t steered Benny wrong yet. 

“It is good. But beatifically? You’re more poetic than that. Give people a story to bite into, it’s the end, for Christ’s sake.”

“That’s what you think,” Benny said with a sly grin, revealing the secret he'd been holding close to his chest.

Elim assessed Benny in his sharp gaze, tapping his red pen all the while. Eventually, he leaned back with an enigmatic smile. “There just might be hope for you yet.” 

Benny laughed.

———

The holographic summer sun shone down on them. They were having a team outing in the holosuite.

Jake and Nog were running up and down the steep stadium stairs but eventually they settled near Bashir. They were talking in hushed voices and probably asking Julian an array of questions. Young man type questions, the things you’d ask an older brother. It warmed Ben’s heart. Though he hoped Julian used some sense before answering every question the two boys had. 

“Can't we have the computer jump us ahead?” Kira asked while fixing her hat and wiping sweat from her brow. 

“And miss all this?” Ben gestured out to the rest of the stands full of holographic people. All of them munching and chatting just like them. “Waiting for the next inning is part of the fun, Major. Now come on, get ready.”

“Ready for what?” Kira glanced at Dax hoping for an answer. But Jake’s head popped up. He must have gotten some of that big lobbed hearing from his little friend.  

“Ah, come on, Dad, no!” Jake yelled up to Ben. 

“Sorry, Jake-o, it's happening.”

“Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” Kira looked between them both. “What?” 

Julian frowned and shrugged, obviously unsure, but Jadzia was giddy with excitement. She shouted, “I’m ready Benjamin!” 

“Old Man, of course you are, the wave is only a vertical worm after all.”

Dax scrunched her nose at him and then grabbed Kira’s hand. “Follow my lead.” 

Kira took a deep breath and gave her a nervous smile. Ben pointed out to the other side of the stadium. It wasn’t his first time watching this game so he knew when and where to expect the wave to start. The holographic crowd on the other side stood in sync and flopped their arms up over their heads. Some were more coordinated than others. 

“We have to do that, sir?” Miles, who had been wrapped up in a conversation with Keiko, squinted up at Ben in alarm. 

Miles reached across Nog and smacked Julian’s arm. “My shoulder’s been acting up. Tell him, tell him.”

Julian had only been half listening but jumped in. “Right?…Oh! Right! His shoulder!” 

“The other one works just fine, Mr. O'Brien. One arm will suffice.”

They messed it up the first time but by the second, they were in sync with the crowd. Nog was very into it, jumping up and down before the wave had even reached them. It was hilarious. He leapt into Jake’s arms and they fell down with laughter, their voices cracking here and there. Ben was glad to see it. Two boys soon-to-be men. He didn't know how many days they'd have left to be children. 

Worf, who had Molly on his shoulders, came back down to their seats from outside of the holosuite. A tray of jumja sticks was precariously in her small arms. “Do not drop it, Molly. Or I will be very displeased,” Worf said.

Molly tapped him on the head with the tray and laughed when Worf answered with a low growl as a joke…hopefully. 

Keiko took the tray and handed it to Miles before Molly practically launched herself into her mother’s arms. “Thank you, Worf. Were you good for Mr. Worf, honey?”

Before Worf or Molly could speak, Miles jumped in. “Oh, so he can miss the...what was it? The wave?” 

“He’ll get his chance, Miles, I’m sure there will be another one, won’t there?” Asked Keiko. Ben shrugged as if he didn’t know, but Kasidy nodded, a conspiratorial, coy smile on her lips. The traitor.

Keiko continued in a teasing tone. “See! Unlike you, Miles, I have been to one of these events before.”

Miles reached out and tickled Keiko's side and then she snatched the jumja sticks out from the tray. 

As the next inning began, Quark and Odo entered the holosuite. Not to watch the game, but the Ferengi had usurped the role of the holosuite’s snack hawker. Quark was all too happy to take their non-holographic slips of money, and he also seemed to enjoy throwing hot dogs at people. 

“You know you don't have to do that. Come relax!” Kira shouted to Odo who was looming over Quark as usual. As they argued about whatever scheme Quark must be planning, Julian waved at Quark.

Then Julian chucked a slip at Quark who caught it with his left hand, then with his right threw Julian’s second hot dog of the afternoon. The doctor caught it with grace.

“I thought you were watching what you ate,” said Dax as she finished Keiko's jumja stick. They were still too sweet for the botanist.  

“True, I did,” Julian replied after swallowing a third of the dog down. “I'll restart tomorrow.”

“He could use some extra pounds on that scrawny frame.” Miles smacked Julian on the back.

“Scrawny? I’ve been told I’m considered svelte, actually.”

Dax and Miles glanced at each other and then both laughed, Bashir did too after he finished chewing his next bite. They'd all thankfully learned to stop choking on the dogs. 

Though Mile's had just finished his own jumja stick, he waved over to the stairs. “I'll take some boiled peanuts, Quark.”

All three of them passed around the bag, munching on the peanuts as the game went on.

When the next wave came around, they were ready. Keiko and Miles on each side held Molly's hands as she swung back and forth between them. Dax and Kira held hands again though it wasn't entirely necessary, but Ben just winked at the Old Man. She wasn't as sly as she thought. 

Ben decided to take a page out of Jadzia's book though and do the same with Kasidy. He reached down and took her smooth hand in his.

Kasidy shot him a skeptical look. “Not my first rodeo, Ben, I got it.”

“I know you do,” replied Ben in a soft, husky whisper. “But maybe I want an excuse to hold your hand.”

Kasidy chuckled and bumped her hip against his. “You don’t need an excuse.”

“I know that too.” He leaned down and gave her a quick kiss just as the other section sat down. The wave approached. 

Worf was muttering “steady, steady” at Jake and Nog who were vibrating with anticipation to leap up.  

When they all did the wave successfully, they cheered now more than they had when Buck hit the home run.

Ben wrapped his arm around Kasidy who tapped the bill of her baseball cap against his. Her eyes glimmered even in its shade. Stars in her eyes. 

By god, he loved this woman. He loved his son. He loved these people. Ben never thought he’d find a family like this again. Never thought he’d love living in the world again.  

The Ben of now and forever and tomorrow loved this moment so much that he visited as often as he could. This was what made all the sacrifice worth it. It had to. 

———

Ben watched his mother die. 

Sarah, his mother, the woman who abandoned him before he was two years old, was dying. Her hovercraft collided and wrapped around a tree. It wasn't her fault. It was an older model with faulty brake systems, but no one would know that for another year. She was one of the unlucky few who died in the meantime. 

“I’m sorry, Sarah.” Ben wanted to heal her, but the Prophets denied him. How could they be so cruel? 

One of Sarah’s eyes was swollen from impact against the steering wheel. Her brown eyes were glassy and slow to find his, but eventually, they did. She was about to die. 

”I got…scared, Benny.” Sarah coughed, blood tinting her teeth red, but she still got some words out in a slurry mess of broken teeth. “I didn’t…I did lo—.”

Her body slumped. The Prophets still wearing his mother’s face sat in the back of the hovercraft. They watched as Ben tried to cradle his mother, but his arms slipped through what she left behind. 

———

He stared down at Jake in his high chair. This wasn’t the first time Ben had been in this moment nor would it be his last. 

There Jennifer was making cute noises of an ancient steam engine. Choo choooo chuga chuga chuga. Those types of trains were long gone. They were so advanced now they slithered like silent snakes across the land. But still, their old sound was common enough for parents to use when trying to get their babies to eat. Funny how that worked, how some things remained while others got forgotten to the sands of time.

Jake gurgled and opened his mouth happily for the train of buttered, sugary grits. Ben had almost broken up with Jennifer the first time she made them like that. Luckily, he could look past those flaws and love her all the same. He just had to make his own batch the right way.

He brushed a hand over her arm in hello. Nothing happened. Of course, she didn’t react, though the hairs on her arms raised, but no shiver, no gasp of acknowledgement. The touch of a god or an angel or whatever her husband was now didn’t mean a damn thing.  

“Do you regret?”

Ben turned toward her. His mothers, his progenitors, himself. “No, I don't.”

“But you dislike what happened.”

“The circumstances.”

“Sarah agreed to your birth. She agreed to hold us.”

“You knew what was going to happen and didn't tell her. You didn't explain what it meant.”

“It meant The Sisko.”

Benjamin sighed. “You took her agency from her. Why didn't you play cupid instead? Why did you rob her? Rob me?”

“Do you regret? Is that the feeling you wish to teach us?”

Ben stared at his Jennifer. At his baby boy. The sun streamed in highlighting Jennifer's beautiful face. The breeze was peaceful as it pushed through the open windows of Judith’s shotgun house. A few days from now they'd say goodbye to his sister and dad. They’d  get packed and leave New Orleans to board the USS Okinawa.

If Ben had known what he knew now, would he have accepted the assignment as XO? Would he have allowed his young family on board if he’d known the dangers of war with the Tzenkethi? 

But nothing stopped the wolf when it came howling. It didn’t douse the flames licking at their heels or the bulkhead falling on Jennifer. And yet, Ben would have to accept it all. If he had a stomach, he'd be sick to the pit of it.

“You are full of linear existence. It would not be here if not for The Sisko,” said Sarah as she morphed to a version of Ben, the Prophets wearing his face. 

He then thought of Sarah. Of Rebecca. His sister Judith. They would not have existed without him. Ben thought of his cobbled together family on the station. On a greater scale, the very existence of Deep Space Nine and even Bajor were in question. Maybe even the whole damn Alpha Quadrant. 

Ben never wanted this burden, but he was stained with it— a birthmark. 

“Then no I don't regret.” Ben watched as Jennifer lifted up Jake and burped him, rocking back and forth on her heels. She talked to their son as he babbled happily, Jake’s small fat fingers playing with her gold hoops.

“No. I can't regret living.” 

———

Ben stopped going to church as often around the age of 16.

He didn’t want to go at all even on the rare times they did head to New Zion Baptist Church as a family. Ben had his girlfriend and his friends down the way who wanted to play ball. He was still trying to convince them to try baseball without any luck. It didn't help that the bat he’d replicated kept snapping in half with even a small whack. 

With the money he’d collected working part-time in the restaurant, he was saving up for the real thing. Even in the heat of the summer, Ben still had some assignments to complete before heading to the Academy in the fall. He was just too busy for church. 

After a long night out with Mama, Dad walked through the kitchen and nodded appreciatively. Ben had been entrusted to watch over the kitchen and do closing duties. So there he was cleaning the floor with a sponge just like they did once a week. Or really Ben since his knees weren’t a mess yet. 

Most kitchens bought a thermal cleansing unit, but not his dad. Oh no, there was something to be learned in hard work, especially in the heart of the kitchen. You treat it like any other room, and all the flavor and magic will die right in the gumbo pot. Overcooked shrimp and slimy okra? That’s from not caring for your kitchen the way you need to care for a woman. With love and respect. 

Ben agreed and thought of Zoey. Love and respect was right. He got the prettiest girl at school to love him. His dad might tell a few fibs here and there, but finding a good woman? His old man knew what he was talking about. After all, he’d found and loved Mama.

As Ben dipped his hands in the soapy water, it became a kind of ritual Ben didn’t let go of. Dipped a hand in, watched the water rise and flow to the ground and soak his knees. 

After he was finished up, they sat together drinking decaf coffee out on the patio. 

“So, you’re a man now. I guess I can’t force your behind to church anymore.”

“Dad, it’s not as if it makes a difference. I still pray. I’ll go sometimes. I’ve been busy.”

“You might not believe it, but great men once sat in those pews. Sang the same hymns. Read from the same Bible. We’re a part of that history now, you going to let that go?” 

“I’m still there, Dad. In spirit, I promise.”

“You better. No son of mine is going to lose sight of the important things.”

His dad smiled with a little sigh and then broke off some of the cold, leftover beignets they'd had in the fridge. Powdered sugar bloomed across the table Ben had just cleaned, but he didn’t care. He bit into his own beignet and then dipped it into his coffee. Ben would need to convince his dad to cut out all the fried foods, late-night beignets included, but it could wait. Right now, there was peace. 

It was quiet. Only a few notes of a saxophone drifted up and over from the club closest to them. The hypnotic jazz leaked out from the club's door. Muffled then a sudden burst of sound as people went in and out. A few loud shouts came on the breeze from Bourbon Street around the way. 

The air was still humid, but a little less so. A couple passed by the closed gate of the restaurant, laughing up a storm and Ben couldn’t keep from laughing along with them. Their glee was so sudden and infectious. His dad joined in and then reached over to pat him on the back. 

“Did I ever tell you about the first time you laughed like that? I said some fool nonsense, but your...mama would laugh and laugh anyway. Then there was you bundled up, a little walnut and you started reaching for her. Your first sounds were all giggles. Kept making a fist as if you were trying to capture the sound for yourself.”

“You never told me that.”

“You just reminded me of it is all.” His dad got a far off look in his eye and took a sip of his coffee with a shrug. “As much as I want to try to freeze time, you won’t be a child forever. But you’ll always be my baby. You know that right?”

Ben nodded and stood, bending to hug his dad. When had he gotten so tall and his old man so short? It startled him, but he soaked it all in. The breeze, the heat, the wetness on his knees still drying. The smell of the powdered sugar and his dad and that cologne he only pulled out for date night’s with Mama.

Time for a moment did freeze. For Ben in this moment and the Ben of forever and the future who watched from the outfield of time and thought. 

Ben and his dad hugged tight beneath the satellites and starships circling above them. The bright pinpricks of stars were still looking down, still strong enough to shine. 

He squeezed his dad tighter, his fist clenched in the shirt of the smaller man’s back. 

Chapter Text

Text Only:

I lay in

the past

a ritual

damned

the moment

I stepped through a door

laid the first stone

in the beginning

of the night

forgotten

waiting

and here I am

my eye on the ball

their blessing

I was the one

the truth

and see how

to catch

really focus

manifest back to

myself as a

patient man

made from my father

rise so high

to promises

and all

the way back home

I went back to time...

the turning point

and if I

do it all again

I can live

Chapter Text

It was Hamaras, the festival of lights on Bajor. 

And it had just been Rebecca Sarah Sisko-Yate’s twelfth birthday. 

As the family of the Emissary, they attended the festival in his absence since he was still walking with the Prophets. Or as Mom grumbled under her breath, “kidnapped by some wormhole aliens, more like it.” 

While Mom had always been weary of all the worship directed towards them, she didn’t seem to hate it when they spent time on Bajor. Especially for big events like this, when their schedules lined up. Sure, the stares were intense, but Becca was used to it. After all, she grew up as one of the Emissary's children.

Grandpa Joe wasn’t up for traveling this year. He’d kissed her forehead and handed her a box of pralines to take with her for the trip. Her own secret stash to tuck away into her backpack. Of course, Jake still found them and took two even though he got his own. 

But it was nice to spend time with Mom and Jake on the long ride to Bajor. Becca didn’t get a chance to see Jake often since he was working at a news service halfway across the quadrant. And she was really excited to see Aunties Kira and Dax, especially because this year was extra special. Becca was going to get to add another chain to her d’jah phah. 

She was twelve years old and closer to being considered an adult, at least on Bajor. The rite of adding a chain was proof of that. Too bad Mom hadn’t gotten the message about that.They still treated her like a little kid who didn’t know a dang thing. 

Though Dad had been from Earth, Becca always felt connected to Bajor too. It was like a tether, a connection to Dad. Almost like she could feel him. She had only heard him in holovids. But on Bajor sometimes it was like she could practically hear his laugh, the sound warm and joyous and right beside her. It was hard to live without him, but she had to keep faith that it wasn't forever.   

But this trip to Bajor seemed different. Becca got a strange feeling. It happened the minute they had stepped off the shuttle transport. She shrugged it off and assumed she'd eaten too much sugar, but it didn't stop.

On the first night of the festival, it came back at a bad time. Becca was smiling out into the crowd when her vision got blurry on the edges. She took a deep breath, her hand faltering mid-wave from her seat on the parade float. It was just a headache, but it made even the flickering of candlelight painful. Eventually, it faded as they neared the end of the route. 

Tons of kids giggled as they ran by their parade float, chasing after them with their sparklers. Auntie Kira always got a bit misty-eyed about that and reached over to squeeze Becca’s shoulder. She never talked too much about what happened during the occupation, but Becca had read up on it. The reminder of the horrors and the dull ache in her skull made Becca tear up too. 

Then on the fourth night of their trip, it returned, thrumming through her constantly. It was close to dread, but that wasn’t right. Dread was like the time Mom found out she got a 42% in Calculus. No, this was something different. Excitement, maybe?

Becca chose to be an adult and ignore it. No reason for a weird, spooky ass feeling to get in the way of their vacation. After they set up a spot on the beach, Mom waved her away. Apparently, getting caught up with the Aunties meant laughing about some stuff she wasn’t “grown enough” to listen to or whatever. 

So Becca played catch with Jake. She wanted to try out the new glove Uncle Julian sent her for her birthday anyway. The leather was stiff, but it was really nice. Cardassian vole leather, or something? Thinking of animal skin freaked her out so she chose to ignore that fact, but his husband’s stitching was real nice. It would be a great glove once she broke it in. 

In the far distance, a few pops went off of fireworks. They were further out from Ashalla, but the sky was still full of lanterns and so far out in the horizon. It was so beautiful, and Becca was glad Dad had bought these forty acres. The beach out back of the small house he’d started planning and Mom completed was their home away from home. It was like Becca had another piece of him here. 

As Becca chucked the ball hard toward Jake, she gasped. A sharp pain raced up her spine. What the heck was that? The ball Jake had returned landed forgotten in the sand by her feet.

“Becca, the ball!” Jake called, pointing down. Her vision swam and she hunched forward. Her big brother ran toward her. Jake was talking, but she couldn't make out the words. But she felt him rubbing her back. 

Eventually, she looked up and her heart stopped. Becca couldn’t help but gasp. All the air seemed to have been sucked out of the quadrant as her eyes focused on a point in the far distance. 

Because right by the shore stood Dad.

Becca didn’t know what to do or what to say. Was she losing it? No. This was Bajor. This was the Prophets, it had to be. Jake turned around, but he couldn’t see what she saw. He yelled out to Mom, but it wasn't necessary because Mom and the Aunties were already running over.

“Baby, you okay, what is it?” Asked Mom, once she’d hurried through the sand. The question was muffled as if she was underwater, their voices far away. She couldn’t focus on the words anyway.

The man in the distance wasn’t a hologram or something, it was him. It had to be. She knew it to her bones. All their questions and concerns grew silent. Even the noise of the ocean and the whistling wind disappeared.

Before she knew it, her feet were pounding against the sand, the grit against her calves hurt. It didn't matter. She had to reach Dad.

Breathless. She came to stand in front of her dad for the first time. The sweat dripping down her forehead, the way her heart pounded didn’t matter. He was back. He was here. 

Dad was taller than she imagined. The holovids didn't do him justice. But he wasn’t fully there yet. Becca didn’t know how to explain it, but he was translucent even in his uniform. Like a ghost from a movie. Strangely, he was also dripping wet. Saltwater pebbled off his dark brown skin and fell into nothingness. His brown eyes were unfocused toward the night.

She tentatively raised her hand and waved it in front of his face, and his eyes snapped to her face. He blinked rapidly. 

“You can see me?” He asked, but his mouth didn’t move. Becca nodded and then she heard his little laugh of disbelief. Again, his mouth was still a firm line. But she heard it. 

His hands were shaking as he tried to touch her face. At first, his touch passed through her, but Becca wasn’t ready to give up. Not ever. 

Becca stretched out her arms as wide as she could and wrapped them around her Dad. She expected to fall through and land right on her face, but instead, he was suddenly solid. Whole.

Becca’s face pressed against the fabric of his old, red uniform. The material was soft and warm.

Behind her, she heard the cries of surprise. “Ben? Ben!” Mom's voice rang out louder than everyone else's screams in the distance. She could now hear the running of her family toward them. Becca looked back at them and then turned to look up at her dad.

Tears streamed down Dad’s face. Ones of joy because he started to laugh. His smile was beautiful, his mouth wide. He was here . His laugh was borderline hysterical, but it made Becca start to giggle. The sounds shook through her to the bone.

He smelled of good cooking and pralines. He smelled like the salt of Bajor. Becca leaned back to look into his face through her tears.

"Hey, Dad. I missed you," she said, her voice cracking.

“Oh baby, I missed you too,” replied Benjamin Sisko, his voice a warm timbre. The Emissary, the captain of Deep Space Nine—her father pulled her into the tightest hug. 

A hug she’d always dreamed of.