This is a what-if, and is not intended in any way to be definitive or canonical. The last season sparked my imagination, and here lies the result. What if Dukat had gone back to Cardassia when the Honshu was attacked? What if he blamed Damar for Ziyal's death, and so never launched his vendetta against Bajor? What if the Changeling capacity for Linking is more extensive than what has been shown so far? The following story is definitely improbable, but no matter. Stand by for rampant speculation. May you be as entertained reading it as I was writing it.

Copyright Statement: The story is mine, the characters are theirs. The loose jumping-off points I used are also Paramount's. This story is intended as entertainment, nothing more, and you may print and download to your hearts content as long as you leave this statement and my name on it. Don't post, print other than for your own use or archive it without asking me. We now return you to your regular programming.

Phoenix

Free! The intoxicating awareness that he was once again master of his own destiny filled Dukat as he piloted the shuttle away from the crippled Honshu. It had been almost too easy to make his escape in the chaos following the attack. The force screen sealing his cell had gone down in a shower of sparks, and there were no guards to be seen- only a single crewman, easily disposed of. A Cardassian crew would never have allowed him to get away so easily- and with a prisoner as well! His victory was only made sweeter by the knowledge that he would not return to Cardassia empty-handed.

Sisko was still and quiet on the floor of the shuttle behind him, his uniform charred down one side where the plasma breach had caught him. Dukat was fairly sure that his arm was broken on that side as well, so he had not bothered to restrain him. The possibility that his prisoner might awake at any time and attempt to do him harm only heightened Dukat's hyperaware state. He laid in a course for Prime and scanned the Honshu. Satisfied that it posed no further threat, he turned to his prisoner. Luckily, Sisko's injuries were not life-threatening, and Dukat did not do much to alleviate them. Pain and immobility would provide him with a far greater advantage than more obvious forms of restraint, and he found that he was looking forward to seeing how Sisko would react to the changed situation. The man had done what he could to make Dukat's captivity bearable, and now that the tables were turned, the favor would be returned. Dukat limited his attentions to a simple dermal regenerator and a splint.Then he settled himself in the pilot's chair to wait.

Sisko stirred and tried to sit up. Dukat jolted back to consciousness as his prisoner moved--he did not remember the moment when he had crossed the boundary between sleep and waking. Only the surprise at awakening remained. For the first time in a long time, he did not remember dreaming and his body felt better for the rest. The sounds behind the pilot's chair told him Sisko was not well, and Dukat grimaced before getting to his feet to deal with the problem. The injured man did not truly wake though, and Dukat was soon contemplating the stars ahead again, and wondering just what sort of welcome awaited him on Cardassia. He had set the communications array to monitor Cardassian channels as he set the course before, but nothing of any import had reached this far out, leaving Dukat to his own devices. What his experience told him was not encouraging, even allowing for his total lack of knowledge of the course events had taken since his capture.

When Sisko woke again, Dukat was deeply asleep. He did not wake as his prisoner awkwardly climbed to his feet. Seeing his chance, Sisko made his way painfully to the weapons locker. As he quietly tried to pull it open, a loud beeping came from the pilot's console and Dukat jumped to his feet. He pulled a phaser from his belt to cover Sisko.

"Good morning, Benjamin!" Dukat said, trying not to blink as the light assaulted his eyes. "Did you sleep well?" Though he was still groggy, the Cardassian felt better than he had in weeks. No faces, no half-heard voices had invaded his sleep.

"Where are we, Dukat?" Sisko asked. "What happened?" Suddenly, the human's face went slack, and he would have fallen had Dukat not leaped forward in time to catch him. Sisko found himself in one of the chairs as the dizziness faded, a concerned Dukat standing over him.

"Careful, Benjamin," he said. "I was able to heal most of the plasma burns, but your arm was beyond my skills." The Cardassian went to the replicator and requested a glass of water, then came back and handed it to his prisoner.

"Thank you," Sisko said as he took it and drank thirstily. The regenerator may have been able to take care of the worst of the burns, but the awful dehydration that went with such injuries was unabated. He held out the empty glass to Dukat. "Could I have some more?"

Dukat smiled. "Of course," he said kindly as he complied with the request. When Sisko held out the glass a third time though, Dukat shook his head. "I'm sorry, Benjamin, but I think you should wait a bit. You were very sick last night." At Sisko's look of surprise he went on. "You don't remember? It was quite an event, I assure you."

"I'm sorry to have been so much trouble," Sisko said. "Oh, not at all!" Dukat said. "It was my privilege to care for the Emissary!"

"I assume we're on our way to Cardassia?" Sisko asked, ignoring the barb.

Dukat leaned back in his chair, a self-satisfied smile on his face. "Of course." Blue eyes met brown ones unflinchingly. "However, I'm sure you're not nearly so eager to make the trip as I am. I could be persuaded to misplace my prisoner- for a price."

Sisko kept the sudden hope from his face and voice. "What do you want, Dukat?"

"Oh, nothing that would compromise your loyalty to Starfleet, I assure you." Dukat's look of wounded innocence made Sisko faintly ill. "I simply want to know the present state of Cardassian affairs." He leaned forward. "I'm sure the lack of information was simply an oversight. The hospital staff did so worry about upsetting me, even after I assured them how unnecessary it was."

A chuckle escaped Sisko as he regarded his captor, quickly stifled at the faintly menacing look it provoked from Dukat. "I'm sure things have gone on as they always do. What with the war, we don't get much news about Cardassia."

Dukat swivelled in the pilot's chair to look out at the stars."I'm sure there has been diplomatic contact with the Federation since my capture, Benjamin, and I thought we were friends, when circumstances permit."

Sisko paused, thinking furiously. He couldn't give Dukat what he wanted, but this would likely be his last chance for escape before they reached Cardassian territory. He could see cracks opening in the fragile rapport that had begun in the Honshu's brig. "Weyoun has been in contact with the diplomatic corps, but I don't have any specifics."

Dukat sighed. "And who speaks for Cardassia?" He was tiring of the game. He turned to face Sisko.

Sisko smiled, his dark eyes wide and innocent. "I don't know."

Suddenly, he found himself pressed up against the back of the chair, Dukat's arm across his throat and the piercing eyes boring into his. "This is ridiculous and you know it! I am neither mad, nor a fool!" As quickly as it had happened, the attack was over. Dukat stood above Sisko, looking sadly down at him. "If that is to be your attitude, I suppose things will have to continue as they are."

Sisko met the blue eyes unflinchingly, but said nothing in reply. Not another word was spoken until they came upon the ship.

Dukat was acutely aware of appearances as he approached the lone warship. The information he had been able to glean from its transmissions told him what he needed to know. The thought of Damar as head of Cardassia had nearly blinded him with rage, but years of discipline and the necessity for action allowed him control. He could still feel it like fire in his veins, sharpening his wits and sight, but the lightheadedness, the almost overwhelming urge to put his fist through something had gone. He would deal with Damar later.

Sisko froze as he heard the transmission. Dukat's back was to him, but he saw the news go through the Cardassian as clearly as if they had been face to face. He looked quickly around the cramped ship for something to defend himself, should the need arise. Of course there was nothing. Dukat had been quite thorough when he secured the shuttle. He listened to the calm, melodious voice go through the ritual of identification and clearance codes, and relaxed his guard somewhat, realizing that Dukat was not going to explode in violence. Only when the little shuttle was being tractored into the bay--the commander was taking no chances, proper codes or no--did Dukat turn to his prisoner. "You knew about this all along, didn't you?" Dukat said evenly.

Sisko returned his level gaze, but said nothing. They sat there, regarding each other a moment, then Dukat broke the silence. "Pity--I never truly considered us to be enemies", he allowed the indignation smoldering behind the calm facade to lance out through his eyes. "Until now." He turned his back to Sisko, staring out at the stars. "You force me to take a course I would rather have avoided."

Not another word was spoken until the shuttle bumped to a halt in the bay. Dukat lowered the door to reveal an armed security squad. Two of them stepped forward and took charge of Sisko, and another two started towards Dukat, who stopped them with an upraised hand. The former ruler of Cardassia advanced until he stood in front of the junior glin in charge of the team.

"Just what do you think you're doing?"

The glin was obviously intimidated--whether from Dukat's glare or his identity was not clear, but he tried valiantly not to show it and to salvage the situation. "My orders are to escort you and the Federation prisoner to a holding cell, sir!"

If Dukat was surprised, his face did not reveal it, but his anger was plain for the entire shuttlebay to see. " *My* prisoner you may take, glin--but you will escort *me* to your commanding officer." His words were controlled, soft, like the calm before a storm. They had the desired effect. The glin gestured to his team, and they escorted Sisko from the bay, leaving only Dukat, the glin, and two armed guards. Dukat eyed the guards angrily, and turned to the glin. "Shall we?" he said, gesturing toward the bay door.

Once in the corridor, he fell in step beside the officer, ignoring the guards. By the time they reached the commander's office, Dukat was frustrated, angry, and apprehensive, though you wouldn't have known it to look at him. Glin Tarel had obviously been instructed to tell his prisoner nothing--his name and the commander's had been the only things Dukat had managed to learn, in fact. His apprehension and indignation grew as the trio accompanied him into Gul Marik's office.

Dukat wasted no time, knowing that if he did not seize the moment immediately, he would find himself in a cell. He prayed that Marik would be reasonable. He walked up to the desk and stood in front of it, carefully, so as not to alarm the guards. "What is the meaning of this treatment, Gul Marik?" he said to the officer behind the desk.

The gul regarded Dukat for a moment. "I should think that that would be obvious, sir", she returned. "What is less so is why you allowed yourself to be captured."

"Captured?" Dukat repeated, an incredulous smile spreading across his face. "I was under the impression that I was returning home." Deliberately, he sat, uninvited, in one of the chairs in front of the desk. The smile never left his face. The fact that the commander was female was the first hopeful sign he had had in a very long time.

Gul Marik smiled back. Her curiosity had been piqued the moment the first hail had come in from the shuttle. She decided to indulge it. After all, there was plenty of time to get her prisoner to the brig. With a curt nod, she dismissed Glin Tarel and the guards. As the door slid shut, she went to the replicator. "Can I offer you anything? A glass of kanaar, perhaps?"

"Thank you, yes" answered Dukat. "I'll have a mug of korsha."

Marik's eyes danced. "Surely it's a little late in the day for breakfast?"

Dukat chuckled. "If you had any idea what I have been living on for the past few months, you wouldn't be surprised, Marik! I managed to find something on the replicator menu--a Terran drink called dashi. It at least smelled right, but it just wasn't the same." His face twisted in disgust. "Have you ever tried coffee?"

Marik shook her head. "I can't say I have."

Dukat raised a finger and inclined his head. "Don't."

Soon they were both sitting with drinks before them. Pleasantries over, Marik wasted no time. "So--why did you return?"

Dukat's eyeridges rose at the directness--almost rudeness, of the commander. He took a sip of broth, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. "I got an opportunity, and I took it," he answered. "Why did you attempt to detain me?" he asked in turn.

Marik sighed. "You do realize you're responsible for the loss of Terok Nor, and the wormhole." she said.

Why was she being so forthcoming? Dukat wondered. Furiously his mind turned over faces he had seen. Did he know her from somewhere? Was she simple? Entranced by his comeliness? He realized she was speaking again, asking him what had happened. For once, Dukat realized, the truth might actually serve him better than an evasion. So he told it, leaving out only the reason for his capture on Terok Nor. When he had finished, they both sat in silence for a moment.

Marik finally broke it. "An interesting story" she said. She held up a hand at the crackling glare Dukat could not stop in time. "And it fits the established facts as we know them." She set her empty mug on the desk and leaned back in her chair. "The attack on the Honshu was fortuitous, it seems--for you, and for Cardassia."

Dukat kept silent. What was she doing? What did she mean? Marik waited a moment, then continued. "What do you know of the situation on Cardassia?"

Dukat shook his head. What was going on? his mind screamed. She knew how little he knew. She had to! "My information is somewhat limited", he allowed, a self deprecating smile accompanying his guarded words.

Marik's smile disappeared. "Don't play games with me, Dukat," she said. "Do you know the course the war has taken, or don't you?"

Dukat sighed, playing for time. "I know that our position is much weaker than it was, that there has been a change of government, and that we are still allied with the Dominion."

"All setbacks that you bear responsibility for." she answered.

So this was it, Dukat thought, finally something made sense, finally there was a part of the situation he could turn to his advantage. "So that's the official version, is it?"

Marik nodded. "Do you dispute it?"

"Of course" Dukat answered. So this was to be his trial. "A captured commander makes a very convenient scapegoat, wouldn't you say?" "Especially one who lost the same territory. Twice." Dukat leaned forward in his chair, a nasty smile on his lips. "Gul, I told you what happened, and you know the official version of events. We can sit here all day debating the story, or you can get to the point. You either believe what I told you, or you don't." Inwardly, he was shaking, dreading the command that would bring the guards back into the room, but there was no other choice. If he stalled any longer, she would assume guilt. He knew it in his bones.

Marik changed tacks so suddenly, Dukat was stunned. "What is your assessment of Gul Damar?"

"A good second, he carries out his orders without hesitation, and without question. A trifle lacking in imagination perhaps."

"But as head of the State?" Marik pressed.

Dukat smiled, shaking his head. "Inadequate to the task."

Marik smiled, Dukat noted with some relief. Obviously, that was the answer she had been looking for.

"And what solution would you propose to our present dilemma?"

The smile remained on Dukat's lips. "I would have to know the situation before I could comment intelligently." He sat back, knowing that the razorsnake was at Marik's feet now.

Marik nodded, smiling back. "All right, Dukat. You shall. Since the loss of Terok Nor, we have gained no territory, made no advances whatsoever. Oh, there have been raids, such as the one that destroyed the Honshu, but nothing more. It appears that the war is being conducted almost entirely by diplomatic means. I think we both know that it is far past the time for that sort of approach."

Dukat leaned his chin on his closed fist, listening. "So the Vorta is the real power." He would strangle Damar when he finally got hold of him! He would feel each individual vertebra in his neck-

Marik was speaking again, answering him. "So it would appear. Which means that there is no one strong enough to give Cardassia the leadership we so badly need. If we allow the Federation to recover, with their greater resource base, we will surely lose this war." She leaned forward again. "So I ask you again, Dukat. What would you do?"

Aside from killing Damar? Dukat did not allow himself to dwell on that. "What is our fleet strength, and what territory do we still hold?"

* * *

Sisko stretched his arm experimentally as the medic put her instruments away. "Thank you" he said with a smile. The medic nodded politely, but said nothing. She had said very little the whole time she had been in his cell, beyond the requirements of the job. She didn't linger after it was done either, and Sisko soon found himself alone, with only a silent Cardassian guard for company. His attempts at conversation with him fared no better, and soon Sisko was sitting glumly on the bunk with only his thoughts to occupy him. He ran back over the trip to the cell, the time in the shuttlecraft, but could find nothing in the situation that could be turned to his advantage. He had to escape--but how?

Dukat's step was light as he walked down the corridor to the holding cells. His change in fortune seemed assured. The remainder of the afternoon with Marik had passed quickly, and his unexpected ally had shown herself to be an excellent tactician. It had occurred to Dukat that she could easily have become the leader Cardassia needed, but she lacked the proper connections necessary to the post. He would see to it that she did not remedy that situation once he regained power, but honor demanded a suitable reward for such loyalty. He thought on the options as he made his way through the Security section.

Sisko looked up as Dukat swaggered into the holding area. *Come to gloat, have we?* he thought disgustedly as he smiled in welcome. At this point, even Dukat's company was better than nothing.

"You're looking much better, Captain!" Dukat said expansively. "I trust you've been well treated?" Honor also demanded that he return the hospitality Sisko had shown him when the situation had been reversed.

Sisko nodded, and raised his healed arm. "I can't complain." *No you can't, can you?* Dukat thought warily. He had not forgotten Sisko's help--or hindrance. But his smile was genuine enough as he regarded his adversary behind the force screen. "I do apologize for the accommodations, but one can't be too careful in wartime." His gaze became questioning. "Unless you'd like to give me your parole?"

Sisko briefly considered doing just that, but shook his head. "I think you know that's impossible, Dukat." Escape was not worth his honor.

The disappointment was plain on Dukat's face. "Ah well...I was hoping to show you Cardassian hospitality as befits a fellow officer, but I see that's impossible." His voice trailed off. This was pointless. The Terran would never be reasonable, could never make the best of a bad situation. Even for Ziyal's sake, he dared do no more.

"You could always let me go." Sisko said with a smile.

Dukat chuckled and shook his head. "If I did so, you may be sure that I would face a rather less pleasant form of hospitality."

"I see you've managed to stay out of a cell so far," Sisko answered.

"Yes, I have, haven't I?" Dukat's smile took on an edge of smugness. "Is there anything I can get for you, Captain?" The reversal was apparent to both of them.

"My ship would be nice."

"I'm sure it would." Dukat turned to go. "If you need anything I *can* provide, please don't hesitate to ask, Captain," he said. "Good day". He nodded politely to the man in the cell and went back to the quarters he had been assigned.

They were well into Cardassian space when the call from Weyoun came. Briefly, Dukat wondered who had notified him of his whereabouts as he waited for the signal to be put through.

The smile was as annoying as ever when the hated face appeared. "Ah, Dukat! So glad you were able to rejoin us!"

Dukat forced an answering smile, wishing he could reach through the screen and strangle the Vorta. "Yes. You certainly didn't waste any time securing my release, did you?"

The wounded look Weyoun gave him in return was as false as the welcome. "I was hardly in a position to do so, and it turned out that my help wasn't needed after all."

"Yes." Dukat answered. "Apparently not." He sat back in his chair. "So. How goes the war? I trust Damar is providing you with adequate military support?"

Weyoun's face showed almost theatrical disappointment, Dukat noted with amusement. "I'm afraid not." he said sadly. "He has his strengths, but supreme command is beyond him, I fear."

"So you need me again?" Dukat said bluntly.

The short burst of laughter was as false as the smile. "Need you?" Weyoun repeated through it. "You will make a useful addition to the war effort, but we have the situation well in hand, I assure you."

Dukat nodded sagely. "Of course. And the fact that we have gained no advantage since my capture is purely coincidental. I'm sure there is a sound tactical reason for our apparent inactivity."

"I hear you bring us a prize", Weyoun interrupted Dukat's merciless assessment.

Dukat nodded, a satisfied smile on his face. "Yes--I was able to bring Captain Sisko with me when I escaped. I trust you will have suitable accommodations prepared for him by the time I arrive?"

The saccharine smile was back. Dukat felt faintly ill as he listened to the rest of Weyoun's inanities, but the feeling was tempered with a rising sense of exultation as his tentative position grew stronger. He signed off, feeling better than he had in months.

By the time the little ship entered orbit around Prime, news of Dukat's return had become common knowledge. As he stepped off the transporter pad, a fitting entourage had assembled to greet him. Weyoun stepped forward first, both hands extended in greeting. Dukat allowed him to take one of his hands in his, hiding his disgust at the touch for the sake of the public display of reconciliation. He had not forgotten the attempt to place responsibility for the loss of Terok Nor squarely on his shoulders, and he welcomed the chance to put it behind him. Damar and the Founder followed as Weyoun led them all to a briefing room off the main hall.

Dukat's smile was genuine as he graciously accepted his accolades, and contemplated his next move. He thought he saw his wife in the crowd, and Damar was looking decidedly uncomfortable. Dukat took the chance to clap him on the shoulder while they were still in view of the assembly, and was amused at his ill concealed look of relief. Fool. There would be plenty of time to settle the score later. After he had gotten the situation back under control, there would be time for everything.

As soon as the door closed, the Founder began. Weyoun stood off to the side. His worshipful attitude was as annoying as ever, thought Dukat scornfully. Slaves were all the same in the end, even slaves as capable as the Vorta. He looked closely at hir as s/he spoke. Appearances were so important, especially now, but he listened with half an ear as s/he went through the chain of events since the loss of Terok Nor. Marik had already provided him with a far better synopsis than s/he was doing, but hir words gave him a chance to assess the other occupants of the room. Damar looked calm, but the underlying exhaustion and fear he had been living with were apparent to his commander. Weyoun was a closed book, as usual, but the current state of affairs spoke for itself. Dukat anticipated no trouble there. The Founder was another matter. S/he looked well--faded was the only description that sprang to mind. Dukat wondered what that meant as he listened. The Jem 'Hadar guards were silent and unobtrusive next to the door. There were no others, which was puzzling. He pricked up his ears as she mentioned Sisko.

"-has been removed to a holding area. I congratulate you on your resourcefulness in securing him for us. Has he provided you with any information yet?" S/he looked at Dukat expectantly.

"No. He hasn't exactly been forthcoming. I postponed a formal interrogation until my return. Facilities were rather limited aboard the Rin'cha and I didn't want to damage him unnecessarily." Dukat leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "I also have established a certain amount of trust between us and I saw no reason to damage it. It might prove useful later."

Damar snorted derisively at this, and Dukat looked over at his second. "Do you find something amusing, Damar?"

The officer looked back like a cargo vessel caught by a warbird. "No, Sir!"

Dukat smiled nastily. "Come now, Damar, you can be frank with us. What is your assessment?"

The stricken look intensified. "I don't see how a Federation officer's trust could be useful to us. Surely a member of an inferior race would yield such information as they have to a trained Cardassian interrogator quite quickly." Damar managed to hold his gaze level with Dukat's as he spoke.

*And that is why you will never gain command* thought Dukat. "Is that truly the only use you can see for such a prisoner?" he asked, regret tinging his clear voice. Damar kept silent. "No matter" Dukat said, turning back to the Founder. "I believe his interrogation is scheduled to begin quite soon--I spoke with the intelligence officer before we made orbit and apprised him of the situation."

The Founder nodded. "And he, in turn, informed us. We had something a bit different in mind, however."

"Such as?" Dukat prompted.

The wintry smile s/he gave back was completely alien. "We have methods of discovering the truth that are far more effective than simple pain. Give him to me and you will know everything he does in a very short time, with no physical damage to him whatsoever."

*And of course you will share this knowledge freely with us* Dukat thought cynically. But he smiled amiably as he spoke. "Are you familiar with Cardassian methods? Pain is, after all, only one method of extracting information. Perhaps a joint effort would serve us both better. I am sure we have much to teach each other."

The smile broadened, setting Dukat's teeth on edge. "Yes, we definitely should collaborate on this matter", s/he said. "The measure of rapport you have with the Captain will be most useful for our purposes." S/he rose smoothly from hir seat. "I have made the necessary preparations, and will expect you tomorrow." With that, s/he left the room, followed by Weyoun and the silent Jem 'Hadar.

Dukat was seething from this cavalier treatment, but said nothing as s/he left. "Damar, a moment, if you please" he said softly as his second made to follow the others.

Damar started guiltily at the request, but turned to face his commander squarely. "Yes, Sir?" he said.

"Walk with me, if you would", Dukat ordered, rising and moving towards the door. Damar followed obediently as his commander led them outside, away from any listening devices. Dukat made reassuring conversation as they walked, and watched Damar relax with a calculating eye. He didn't mention the war except in the most general of terms until they were in an open expanse of meadow off the main headquarters building.

Damar looked back on the conversation later with relief, and no small amount of confusion. Dukat had asked about his experience of command, and had verified what Weyoun and the Founder had told him about the war. Damar had answered forthrightly, as the good subordinate he had always been. When Dukat had gone on to detailed questions about Cardassian strategies and political affairs, however, Damar knew his answers had disappointed his commander. More worrying still, the easy working relationship they had shared was different, though Damar could not say how. No matter how he examined their conversation, the sense of wrongness slipped away as he tried to focus on it, leaving him with intangibles. Had the quality of Dukat's gaze been a little more distant, his almost unconscious comradely slap on the back a little forced? When they had parted on the other side of the field, Damar realized that no mention at all had been made of Ziyal. Now that knowledge sent a shiver up his spine as he sat alone in the officer's club, a half empty bottle of kanaar on the table in front of him. He didn't sleep well that night.

* * *

Dukat had been waiting for this moment a long time. He strode confidently in his front door, knowing that this time the house would not be empty and silent. He wasn't disappointed. His children exploded into the reception room as he entered. The loudness and enthusiasm of their welcome might not have been proper behavior for Cardassian children, but he revelled in it, swinging his youngest daughter up into his arms as he made his way to a seat. They all gathered round him, competing energetically for his attention. How clever she was, he thought briefly as he took control of the chaos, going from youngest to oldest as he caught up on his childrens' lives. Peripherally, he was aware that she had not yet made her appearance, which made him both grateful and apprehensive. What would she do this time?

At dinner, she finally made her entrance. How beautiful she was, Dukat thought absently as they all took their places at the large table. Her jet hair was intricately arranged, and the dress she wore had obviously been chosen with him in mind. It was cut low in front, and the bodice hugged her torso like a second skin. Curved panels of shimmering black, vaguely reminiscent of his uniform, accented the swell of her breasts, and the skirt was made of the same shimmering panels, sweeping from her small waist to the floor. Mentally, Dukat chuckled. Did she really think it would be that easy?

As she tried to step forward into his arms, he gracefully took her hand, kissing it gallantly as he led her to her seat. She was far too well bred to show her disappointment in front of the children. Dukat gave her nothing beyond what civility demanded throughout the meal, allowing the children to dominate the conversation. The rest of the evening followed the same pattern, and Dukat had the double pleasure of watching his wife squirm as he enjoyed the company of his children at long last. He would never forgive her for attempting to deprive him of them, or for abandoning him when he needed her the most.

At last, when he had personally tucked the whole brood into their beds, solemnly assuring them that he would indeed be there in the morning, they were alone. She knew better than to attempt to touch him again, but was heartened when he did not refuse the glass of kanaar she brought to him. She was not surprised when he did not take a seat on the couch beside her. He held the glass up to the light, admiring the deep red-black color. He crossed to the oval window, drinking in the view of the distant sea. It had been a long time since he had stood here, like this, and he let the familiarity of it wash over him. Silently, she waited for him to speak. Minutes passed, and with them, her anger and humiliation grew. He was enjoying this! Suddenly, the anger was gone, a chilling clarity in its place. He could play this adolescent game for as long as he liked. His position was still far too tenuous to repudiate her, at least in public, and his duties would undoubtedly soon call him away. They always did. Uncomfortable though it was, at least this cold silence was an honest expression of what was between them. As always, the children were the only connection they had.

"We need to talk." He broke the silence at last, as if divining her train of thought.

*Oh really?* she thought sarcastically. "Yes, we do." she answered.

She had never looked more desirable to him than at that moment, he thought, though what lay behind those shuttered eyes would poison if he touched it. Life would have been less complicated if she had stayed away, but he could not afford to be publicly estranged from her. Regardless of the personal consequences, her presence would enable him to better serve Cardassia. But how to begin? He could simply order her to do what he wished, and he knew that she would comply without protest, but he wanted more than that. Once he had at least had, if not her love, her admiration. When that had faded to contentment instead of deepening into love, he knew that he had been at least partly to blame. He had accepted it as part of a soldier's life, a sacrifice to Cardassia that he had to make. In those days, she had accepted it too, and if they had not been close, they had at least been united in the bonds of duty.

Ziyal had changed all of that irrevocably. What he had done was painfully obvious as soon as they had crossed the threshold. She had been as controlled in her anger as he, no raised voices had disturbed the household, but by morning, there was no longer anything between them worthy of the name of marriage. He remembered her telling him that, her voice cold as she had stood by the window, silhouetted in the fragile light of dawn. She had treated Ziyal as if she didn't exist, and had refused to be seen with either of them in public. As soon as she could arrange it she had left, taking the rest of the children with her.

Now it was too late. Dukat realized now, sitting silently in the same room with the woman who had given him, if not her love, at least her devotion, that he had asked too much of her then, and should not have been surprised at her actions. If there had been betrayal, it had been his doing as much as hers. Suddenly, he was deeply, bitterly ashamed, not for Ziyal, or even for Naprem, but for what he had asked, no--demanded of his wife.

"Can we begin again?" he asked softly.

Her eyes widened. Whatever she had been expecting from him, this she had not prepared for. She knew what her answer must be, though, she had been through all the reasons before his feet had touched Cardassian soil again. She returned his gaze steadily. She had never expected that light in his eyes to ever be there for her again. It took all her will not to dissolve into tears. She did not know if what was in her heart was love, at least it did not feel the same as the bright flame she had brought to their marriage when the dashing young officer had stolen her heart, but it would have to be enough. He needed her, Cardassia needed her to be by his side, and her duty was clear. She had not expected to enjoy doing it. She stood and went to her husband wordlessly. He opened his arms to receive her, and they stood for a moment, just holding each other. Dukat realized suddenly that he could not remember the last time he had held his wife like this. For the second time that evening, he was ashamed. How could he have forgotten how good this felt? It seemed the most natural thing in the world to kiss her then, and he did. It was like drowning, like surfacing after a long sleep, and it made him whole again at last.

* * *

Weyoun was studying something on the table when Dukat entered the briefing room, a lightness to his step that had not been there before. "You're late" Weyoun said. Dukat's good mood was making him uneasy.

Somehow the Vorta's smile was not as irritating, the situation not nearly as hopeless. Dukat smiled expansively. "I didn't miss anything important, I trust?"

"Nothing we couldn't handle without you," Weyoun answered. Dukat saw Damar sitting at the other end of the table then. His second looked terrible, Dukat noted with satisfaction. He would have to do something about that in a day or so, he decided. Damar was still necessary. He would never be able to look at the man without seeing Ziyal's dead face, but the crushing grief, the shadows were easier. He could do what he needed for Cardassia now. He looked around the room, but Weyoun and Damar were the only occupants.

"I believe I had business with the Founder--surely I'm not that late?" Dukat sat down at the head of the table. He watched with satisfaction as Weyoun forced a smile.

"Certainly not!" Weyoun said sarcastically. "Only you would keep a God waiting, Dukat. I'll inform hir that you have arrived." His hand moved to the communicator switch.

* * *

Major Kira Nerys sat behind the big desk in the commander's office, lost in thought. Ever since the fruitless search for the Honshu, she had been in constant motion, trying to fill the void left by Sisko's disappearance. She did not allow herself to think of what the loss of the Emissary meant for her, or for Bajor. Starfleet had thankfully been far too busy to send a replacement, so at least she didn't have to contend with yet another Federation officer who had no understanding of Bajor and the situation, but she still had the doubled workload, and her own grief. What would Sisko have done in this position? The Alliance had made no real move to resume the war, they had only engaged in whirlwind attacks like the one that had taken the Honshu. Diplomatic channels were still open, but Damar and Weyoun were the only faces ever connected with them. Kira took that as a welcome confirmation that Dukat had died with the Honshu. If only Sisko had not been a part of the price of that monster's death!

Kira sighed, and began to go through the routine communications logs. There were the usual messages from Starfleet--the receipt of her reports, their reports on enemy activity.

The beep of the communicator was a welcome respite. "Kira here."

Dax's face appeared on the screen. "You've got a call from an Akima Torel. Very strange signal. Audio only and she refuses to talk to anyone but you."

Kira sat up expectantly. At last! Perhaps now she could do something useful instead of sitting and waiting as both the Bajoran government and Starfleet had insisted. "Put her through."

The screen blanked. "Kira?"

"I'm here, Akima." Kira said. "Have you found anything?"

"Not exactly--that is, nothing about your commander. But Dukat's back on Cardassia Prime."

Damn! "Are you sure?" Kira demanded. "How do you know?"

"Oh, the whole planet knows," said the disembodied voice. "His return was broadcast, public welcoming ceremony and all."

"No sign of Sisko?" Kira asked.

"No," said Akima. "I'm sorry Kira."

After she cut transmission, Kira sat back wearily, drained and empty. So that was that. The Emissary was gone, but the former Prefect still lived. She couldn't think of a worse omen for Bajor.

* * *

On the station, Garak jolted himself from sleep. It took a moment to register the solidity of the room, the safety of his quarters. He could still see Dukat's grinning face, could still hear the hated voice asking questions that had no answers. Quickly, before the images could fade, he lay back, bringing the mental disciplines he had practiced since childhood to bear, beckoning back the twilight state between sleep and waking. When he opened his eyes again, his purpose was clear. He gathered together the few things he would need and headed for the runabout pads

* * *

Odo felt himself slipping away into something larger than himself. How he had craved this feeling! He could sense hir, even over the immense distance that separated them. With strange doubled perception, he could feel the void that separated them, could sense hir golden substance. As sight disappeared into sensation, he fought his desires and deepest instincts, tried to remain separate. It was too strong. He felt himself dissolving into the Link. As the wave broke over his head, shame and ecstasy were one. The universe was one. When he came back to himself, aeons had passed in the space of seconds. The feeling of timelessness was precious, almost as precious as the Link, and the familiar feeling of being beyond everyday concerns was like balm. Garak's face and Dukat's were petty annoyances, and he brushed them aside impatiently. Then Kira's accusing face surfaced in his memory, and with it, realization and a crippling shame. He rose in a golden column from the floor of his quarters and solidified into his familiar humanoid shape. He was amazed at the effort it took to do so, and a bit frightened. What had happened to him? "Computer. Time." "It is 0430 hours," said the flat voice. The panic receded. Whatever had happened, it hadn't taken long. He realized belatedly that he was still in his quarters alone, after all, so he hadn't been insensible long enough to be missed. His investigator's brain took over then, gathering the pieces of the experience and searching for the pattern to them.

* * *

Sisko awoke in his cell. A vague nightmarish feeling pursued him from slumber, but it parted like gossamer as he tried to focus on it. A tray of unappealing food lay on the opposite bunk, as it had every time he had awakened since his arrival on Cardassia. He had never seen the hand that placed it there, in fact, he had seen no one since he had been placed here. Unlike a standard holding cell, this prison had four solid walls, but Sisko knew that the sense of isolation was only an illusion, one he had been unable to break. He had tried feigning sleep, determined to see whoever fed him, but they had known, and had simply waited each time until he truly slept. He had long ago lost track of time, but refused to lose hold of reality as well. Sooner or later, there would be a chance for escape. There had to be. All he could do was wait for the opportunity and make the most of it when it appeared.

* * *

The Founder's eyes snapped open, and s/he regarded the still sleeping Dukat with disgust. Weyoun shrank back as hir gaze fixed on him, but thankfully, there was no malice there. S/he quietly went to the door, motioning for him to follow.

S/he did not speak until the door was closed and they were alone. "He will not serve our purpose."

Weyoun waited for more, but the Founder stood silent. He silently cursed Dukat, but being in the presence of a God was worth the uncertainty and he schooled his thoughts to obedience.

"No matter," s/he said at last. "When he wakes, send him back to the tasks he knows. I am dealing with Sisko myself."

"Yes, Founder," said Weyoun ingratiatingly. "What else would you have of me?" S/he looked right through him, and Weyoun cursed his impertinence.

"When I have need of you, I will call you. Do as you are bid." S/he glided to the door and was gone.

Weyoun went back to the other room, where Dukat was groggily attempting to sit up

. "Where is she?" he asked impatiently.

Weyoun swallowed his fury at the impolite request. "That is none of your concern," he answered silkily. "I believe you have a staff meeting in half an hour's time?"

"What?" Dukat quickly grabbed his cuirass, forcing his sleep numbed hands to fasten it. "This was only supposed to take an hour or so!"

"We ran into some unforeseen complications," Weyoun answered smoothly. "Now you really don't have time to stand here asking foolish questions. I suggest you get back to your duties." The door slid shut behind him before Dukat could object further.

Strange the path Destiny took, mused Dukat as he made his way through the cavernous corridors of Central Command. Only a few days ago, he had been fighting for his very sanity, if not his life. Already, the joy of yesterday seemed dreamlike, sucked dry by the events of today. He wished he had the time to untangle the strange images left from the Founder's experiment, but duty called. He vaguely remembered Sisko's face, and rough rock walls, but no more. He locked the odd experience away, resolving to try and deal with it when he had a chance.

The day gave him none. Damar had done what he could to rebuild the fleet, but he had shown no imagination in the task, and considering the state of Cardassian resources, as well as the fact that the wormhole was closed to them, imagination was definitely what was called for. Before he finally ended his day, in quarters in the Command Center, not at home, he had already addressed the Cardassian people, calling for austerity measures. Even with all unnecessary travel prohibited, and all vehicles confiscated for their raw materials, he knew that they would not be able to rebuild on their own. The recruiting centers were overflowing with volunteers, but even when they were trained as adequately as time permitted, what good would they be without ships to carry them? The Dominion was making up the lack, breeding Jem 'Hadar and building ships, but they were supplying very little to their Cardassian allies. Dukat had spent a rushed hour going through the records from Damar's tenure in office. His second had dutifully sent requests for the aid Cardassia was entitled to as a member of the Dominion, but had done nothing when those transmissions had been ignored. Inexorably, control of the war, and inevitably, control of the Cardassian government, was passing to the Dominion. Now, in quarters, the enormity of the task at hand seemed overwhelming. He lay down wearily, pondering the problem.

Unbidden, the image of Garak filled his mind. He sat up, shaking his head angrily, but stopped as vague memories of his earlier experience began to surface. He pushed the image of Garak aside, and began to trace Sisko back. A rough cavern, the shuttle he had taken from the Honshu-- Madness, Sisko's accusations and his own insane answers. Cardboard images of Damar, Weyoun, Kira echoing the images from the hospital--He sat up, shaking, as the carefully reconstructed facade of sanity--not quite reality yet, began to waver. What had s/he done to him? He began to understand the vague malaise that had poisoned the remainder of his day, and that he had kept at bay as he worked. It had started with the Founder's experiments. He had accepted the vague explanation s/he had given him, but now he was not at all sure what he had agreed to. His first impulse was to go to hir and demand an explanation in full. Instead, he went to the tiny washroom and splashed cold water on his face. The shock of it helped, and he felt his mind begin to clear. As it did, he realized that, while he would never get answers from hir, he would never submit himself to hir experiments again. Back in the main room, he sank to the floor, calming his mind as he had done since Ziyal's death. It took longer this time, but he gained control eventually. It was a long time before he slept, and the ghosts of dreams followed him through to morning.

* * *

Garak shook himself as he felt sleep try to claim him. He thought longingly of the hypospray and the stimulants he had brought with him, but made no move to get them. Instead, he requested a particularly loud Klingon opera and set the volume to cycle randomly. He was only a short distance from Prime now, and he would soon need all the help the drugs could give him.

Garak had spent the first part of his journey in meditation, and what he had found had confirmed his earlier conviction that he dared not sleep, especially now, so close to his home. The disorientation the Founder had used to gain entry to his mind had probably limited the information s/he had been able to recover from him, but he could not be sure. He knew that he would not be able to keep his position hidden if s/he tried again. As he drew nearer to Prime, the task of evading detection grew ever more challenging. It was time to find another mode of transport.

The transporter beam faded, and Garak looked carefully around the small cargo bay. His sensor readings had been correct. It was completely empty. He tugged impatiently at his trousers. It had been a long time since he had worn a standard uniform and he had forgotten just how uncomfortable the tight bodysuit could be. He wished briefly that he had had the time to alter them properly as he went to the hatch and keyed in an access code. Ah, well, the sooner he got to Prime and took care of his business, the sooner he could get back into comfortable clothing. He trained the disruptor in his hand on the hatch as it opened. Methodically, he shot the two Lisepians, spaced the bodies, and took possession of their tiny ship. Far behind, the abandoned runabout continued on its course.

Discretion won out in the end. Transport to the orbital station was easy once the codes were verified, and Garak materialized in yet another empty cargo bay. He wiped the transport log of his arrival before leaving, and transmitted the code that would wipe the Lisepian ship's memory core. An empty ship in orbit was more of a trail than he would normally allow himself, but at least it ended there. He could almost hear Tain's dry voice lecturing him for his sloppiness, but there was no time for more. He shouldered the small bag he had brought from the runabout and transported himself to the surface. There was nothing he could do about the departure log. He only prayed that no one would take any notice of the routine comings and goings from the station.

Garak materialized in yet another cargo bay in the capital. This time, he left the log intact. Sorting his transport out from the routine traffic would be possible--if one knew when and where to look. No sense in leaving a loose end between the station and here, and in any case, the trail would end here. He exited the bay and disappeared into the city. When he got to the public transport station, he cursed briefly under his breath. the sign read "Closed To All Nonessential Transport". He skimmed the lengthy official text below, and knew he couldn't risk fabricating a clearance this time. He resigned himself to the dangerous walk to Central Command.

By the time he reached the imposing building and found an unobtrusive way inside, his exhaustion was becoming a serious problem. He stopped briefly in a storage closet to remedy the problem, at least temporarily. The settings on the hypospray danced before his eyes, and he checked them twice before giving himself the stimulant. Immediately, his vision cleared up. The situation didn't feel nearly so hopeless. He reminded himself sternly that the rising sense of exultation was artificial, that he still had a long way to go and a very limited time in which to accomplish his purpose. He pulled a tricorder from his bag and began to scan.

He hit the side of the instrument in frustration. That was all he needed! The readout showed a Founder in the room with him. He set the instrument to scan for human life signs. Only a few, far below him in the holding area. That reading made sense. By the time he had finished scanning for Orions, Breen, and Horta, all with predictable and intelligible results, he was beginning to get angry. He scanned again for a Founder. Again, the reading didn't make sense. Then, the pieces fell into place. He put his bag on the floor and scanned it. Yes. A golden aura briefly surrounded it, and began to grow and change. Odo now stood beside the contents of the bag. He looked at the hypospray and the small box marked with the insignia of Starfleet Medical, the small assortment of weapons and tools tumbled around it with eyes instead of his Changeling senses.

"Good afternoon, Constable," Garak greeted his unexpected companion. "Did you enjoy the trip?"

"No," said Odo.

"How long were you intending to continue this little charade," Garak asked, "If you don't mind telling me, that is."

"Until I found out just what you were up to," Odo answered, his annoyance plain.

"I thought a trip home would do me good," said Garak. "It has been a long time."

"Come on, Garak!" said Odo. "You haven't slept since we left the station, and you won't be able to keep it up much longer." He eyed the pile of drugs on the floor meaningfully. "Why not save us both some trouble and tell me what is going on?"

"If I knew, I'd tell you," said Garak thoughtfully. "I had a very strange experience on the station, and decided to get to the bottom of it."

Odo snorted. "By coming to the one place in the Galaxy where you'd be shot on sight?"

"You do cut right to the heart of things, don't you?" Garak said. "Would you believe me if I said I had no choice?"

The look on Odo's face was unreadable, but his silence was telling.

"And just how did you know I was leaving?" he asked. "You were in the middle of one of your regeneration periods, I believe?"

"Why were you looking for a Changeling?" Odo countered. "You found one, after all."

"They seem to have an interest in me," Garak said. "Did she send you to watch me?"

"She came to you too, didn't she?" Odo replied. Their eyes met and understanding passed between them.

"Is it common for your people to Link over such distances?" Garak asked.

Odo shrugged. "I'm not sure", he answered. "Obviously there were possibilities in the Link that I wasn't told about."

"And it therefore seems possible to hide information within the Link", Garak said. "That could be useful".

"Possible for an experienced Changeling, you mean", Odo pointed out.

Garak began to scan again. There! Many levels up and over, but there was another Changeling life sign. Garak noted the location with annoyance. It was coming from the Command Center level. They would have to wait until it moved to a more accessible location and time was not a luxury Garak had.

Odo had no need of a tricorder to know where s/he was. He had been aware of hir since he left the station, and he knew s/he shared that awareness. He realized now that he could sense his people, at least the ones he had touched before, whenever he chose. It had been there all along, like an extra pair of eyes he had not known he possessed until now. He was drawn to hir like a moth to a flame, and he had to allow that sense to guide him, but Garak must not be discovered.

* * *

Dukat was already in the briefing room when Weyoun arrived, seated at the head of the table, a cup beaded with moisture in his hand. The Vorta pasted a welcoming smile on his face and sat at the center of the table.

"Glad to see you could make the time for this meeting," Dukat said easily. "I trust the Founder will be here shortly?"

Weyoun swallowed his anger, never letting it reach his face. "Only you would attempt to dictate to a God, Dukat," he answered. "What is the purpose of this..meeting?" He sat back, waiting for an answer.

"My purpose is for the Founder", Dukat said.

Weyoun took a deep breath before speaking. He would not allow this tiresome little man to anger him! "And the Vorta are the Voice of the Founders", he finally said.

Just then, the dull patterned door slid open and Damar entered, slightly out of breath, his uniform fastened crookedly. Dukat noted his disarray with a mixture of impatience and satisfaction. He really would have to speak to his second today, hand over some of the more routine--and reassuring--tasks to him. This sort of behavior in front of the Vorta would never do. Revenge would come later, and out of nowhere, just as Ziyal's death had come to him.

"I prefer to deal with the source", Dukat answered, sipping his korsha and setting the cup on the table before him. He laced his fingers behind his head, leaning back. "Good morning, Damar", he said, as his second sat down at his right hand.

Weyoun didn't trust himself to speak for a moment. Dukat's arrogance had become worse, if anything, in the time he had been gone. When this war was over, he would be dealt with! He used that knowledge to calm himself.

"There are a few routine matters to be taken care of though", Dukat's voice broke the silence. "I see our requests for raw materials, as per our agreement with the Dominion, have not been filled yet. I'm sure this is just an oversight, but nevertheless, our ability to continue to uphold our responsibilities will be compromised if we do not receive them soon."

"With the wormhole closed to us, I'm afraid that our own resource base is limited", Weyoun answered. "Our first priority has been the manufacture of the White, I'm afraid".

The door opened again, revealing the Founder. S/he glided into the room noiselessly, hir orange draperies flowing around hir. The alien face took in the scene impassively as Weyoun quickly rose to his feet.

Dukat kept his seat, with a look silently telling Damar to do the same.

"Odo is on Prime" S/he said flatly.

"That's impossible!" Dukat erupted.

"He is here", s/he repeated. "He is not to be harmed. He has come to rejoin his people."

"Would you care to explain how he got past the combined defenses of the Dominion and Cardassia without detection?" Dukat asked, incredulous.

"That is not important", s/he said. "You will inform security to allow him passage here."

"At once, Founder!" Weyoun said, reaching for the communicator switch and giving the necessary orders.

"A moment, if you please!" Dukat made no move to do the same. "I would--"

Just then, the door opened a third time. Odo strode in, dressed in the same orange draperies the Founder wore.

"You will leave us", The Founder ordered.

"I will not!" Dukat said angrily.

Weyoun started for the door. "The Founder has spoken!" he hissed. "We serve the Dominion! Come, we will discuss your requests and leave the Founders to their business!"

Dukat made no move to leave.

The Founder turned hir unreal face towards him. "There will be time for your concerns later, Dukat. We will return shortly." With that, s/he left, Odo at her side.

They found an unoccupied room close by. "So. You have returned". The Changeling regarded him with hir stiff gaze. "I have been expecting you".

*Liar*. Odo's investigator's mind automatically noted the falsehood and filed it away. A few short months ago he would not have been able to detect the startled surprise s/he had briefly radiated, or the loneliness that surrounded hir like a grey cloud. Until he had linked with hir, he had not realized that he had spent his own life in that same dull fog. Even now, the desire to share himself with hir was almost overwhelming. Suddenly, he realized the power his lifelong experience, combined with the knowledge s/he hirself had given him, gave him now. In the weeks following the Dominion defeat at Deep Space Nine, his separateness had clawed at him. His need to recapture the newfound clarity of the Link had driven him inward. He had pursued his memories of the experience with the same singlemindedness he brought to every other aspect of his life, and if he had not recaptured the same transcendental joy of being one with his own kind, he had found peace, of a sort, and a dawning understanding of both modes of existence he knew s/he didn't share.

"I had no choice", he answered hir. He watched the relief and anticipation race through hir with satisfaction, and a little sadness. He hoped Garak was making the most of his opportunity as he continued to lead hir down the path he chose. Hesitantly, he held his hand out to hir, locking the knowledge he dared not share away.

There was barely enough time to wonder whether his untutored effort would be enough before s/he had flowed across the room and was upon him. Gratefully, Odo let himself dissolve into hir. Once, when he had still been imprisoned in human form, he had gone kayaking with O'Brien. In his inexperience, he had capsized the frail craft. Amid the terror of falling, and the cold embrace of the river, he had somehow felt at one with something larger than himself. As time slowed, he had let himself be taken by the current, miraculously, he now realized, avoiding rocks and making his way to the surface by instinct. The experience was a pale echo of what he felt now, and he offered it up to hir as proof of his inexperience. He could feel hir delight and hir sense of superiority as s/he brought the example in line with the reality. Humbly he accepted hir corrections, giving hir the adoration s/he craved. S/he did not look deeper in hir need, but Odo knew it was only a matter of time before s/he did.

As s/he satisfied hir craving for union, Odo carefully separated his awareness. As he willingly gave hir what s/he wanted, he carefully began exploring the limits of their union. Slowly he began to see that it was not as complete as s/he had led him to believe. He became even more aware of the slender connection that he realized had been there from their first Linking. He swallowed his anger as he discovered the extent of hir control over him, and the hidden parts of hir he had not Linked with. Cautiously, he extended his awareness, trying to see what s/he was keeping from him. It was difficult to concentrate on his task and the soaring joy of the link around the anger. The image of Sisko filled his mind as he probed deeper, mingling with other images. He seized on the Captain's location in quiet triumph.

Suddenly, painfully, he was slammed back into his separate body, and he found himself on the floor in his natural form. Unwillingly, he assumed his humanoid form and rose to face hir. The smooth, impassive face told him nothing, but then, he no longer needed or expected it to.

"You did not come to rejoin us", s/he said flatly. "Why are you here?"

Odo found his suspicions confirmed, and the effectiveness of his defenses against hir as well. S/he did not know everything he did--for once! How much had s/he discovered during their Link? He dropped his gaze to the floor, buying time before he answered. "I don't know." Hesitantly, he met hir eyes again. Suspicion and contempt warred with need in hir gaze. "I don't belong with the Solids, and I will not continue to allow you to use me as you have."

The suspicion remained, but the contempt was gone, replaced by surprise, and perhaps a little confusion. "Used you?" s/he asked.

Odo met hir eyes steadily. "You need contact with our kind. You used me to get it, but you weren't satisfied with that, were you? You never told me that we could Link across such vast distances."

Was that shock in hir eyes? "You had no need of the knowledge", s/he slowly answered. "In time, I would have taught you the skill. It is not so simple as what we have done."

*Oh no?* Odo had extended himself across the room, then withdrew before s/he could react. "I don't find it all that difficult, now that I've had an example to follow." S/he shimmered briefly at the intrusion. The trapped look on hir face was all the confirmation Odo needed.

* * *

Sisko was roughly shaken awake. He rolled over and found himself face to face with Dukat.

The Cardassian smiled down at him "Ah, Benjamin! Glad to find you awake. I trust you're enjoying your stay?"

Sisko blinked sleep from his eyes and sat up blearily. What was it this time, he wondered?

Dukat didn't keep him in suspense for long. "I think it's time we had a little chat", he said personably, perching on the edge of the cot that filled half of Sisko's tiny cell.

"If it's about the Federation, or the war, you're wasting your time, Dukat", Sisko said.

The hurt look Dukat gave him in reply was unconvincing. "Benjamin! It saddens me to think that after all we've been through together, you don't think we have anything else to talk about."

*We don't* Sisko thought privately as he settled back against the wall. "What did you have in mind, then", he said.

Dukat speared him with that ice-blue gaze. "Changelings".

* * *

Garak cautiously made his way down the corridor toward the underground detention cells. It was cold down here in the lower levels of Central Command Headquarters, and he shivered slightly in the dimness. How he detested this ridiculous fetish the Central Command seemed to have about making things unpleasant at this level, even for the guards! No wonder this was considered punishment duty! Surely it was only necessary to lower the temperature inside the cells--now if *he* were in charge--

Garak realized he was beginning to babble, if only in his mind. He could feel the fatigue creeping over him again, but nothing he did down here would pass unseen. He had left the hypospray with the rest of his gear hidden on a less secure level anyway. The dose he had taken before his descent would have to do. He passed through the checkpoint without trouble. The ident he had forged at an upper level terminal was perfectly valid. The demise of the Obsidian Order certainly hadn't done Cardassian security protocols any good, he thought disgustedly. Dukat had much to answer for, if Cardassia survived the Dominion.

He came to the corridor Sisko's cell was on. He had to go to the guardroom to find the soldier who was supposed to be posted there. Considering the cold, Garak could understand, but it was another sign of the sloppiness that was tolerated since the takeover. The guard was obviously bored and gave the release order only a cursory glance before returning it to Garak and accompanying him to the cell. He tapped out the lockcode and didn't even wait for the cell door to open before he was on his way back to the warmth of the guardroom. Garak let him go without comment, making a mental note to stop at a terminal and put him on report before he left Prime.

He forgot his disgust as the door slid open to reveal Sisko--and Dukat!

The Ruler of Cardassia rose from his cramped position on the tiny cot. "Garak! How good of you to join us!" He reached for his sidearm.

Garak did the same and both stood for a moment, weapons levelled.

Dukat smiled and sat back down, keeping the disruptor trained on Garak. "Shall we wait for the guard? I'm sure they have another cell available."

Sisko had been watching this unexpected turn of events with interest. He shook himself, wondering if this was just another of the strange dreams he had been having since his arrival.

The movement attracted Dukat's attention, though his eyes never moved from Garak. "I wouldn't get any ideas if I were you, Captain", he said.

"I was just wondering when I was going to wake up", Sisko answered cryptically.

Garak's face turned smug. "Having trouble with your Dominion allies, Dukat?" he asked.

"Now why would you think that?"

The surprised tone in Dukat's voice was almost convincing, Garak thought. "Well, security here certainly isn't what it once was", Garak answered. "And your materials shortage is painfully obvious, as is the lack of a strong Cardassian presence on the front lines. It seems your short sightedness has served your allies well. How does it feel, Dukat, knowing that you will be remembered as the man who gave Cardassia to the Dominion?"

"I can't say the opinion of a traitor and an outcast carries much weight", Dukat retorted. "Tell me, tailor, what have you done to serve your world in this time of crisis?"

"I'm here, aren't I?" Garak's disruptor never wavered, nor did his smug smile. "At least I didn't give myself to a Founder as you did. Tell me, Dukat, was s/he to your taste, or were you to hirs?"

Sisko had taken in Garak's condition, and if his dreams had been anything like Sisko's the reason was clear. Many things were becoming clear now, in this small room in the presence of two deadly enemies. Dreams and waking suddenly made a strange pattern, a familiar feeling that he had--Odo! He remembered the strange experience they had shared, the Linking that had led to the revelation of Odo's past as Security Chief under Dukat. The presence of the Founder in his dreams was the last piece to fall into place. "I don't think s/he was to anyone's taste", he said quietly, hoping to defuse the rising anger that would not serve any of them. "But we all have been useful to hir." He had their attention, their quarrel pushed aside as understanding dawned. "It's time we made use of hir, don't you think?"

Garak nodded, smiling, as he looked expectantly at Dukat. "An excellent idea, Captain", he said. "But there are far more comfortable places to discuss this, don't you think?

Dukat lowered the disruptor. Garak mirrored his movement. "I assume you've already taken care of accomodations for our guest", Dukat asked as he put the weapon away. "I'll draft a release order, under a suitable name, of course, and-"

"No need", Garak broke in, producing a PADD with the necessary document. He looked around the cramped cell, shivering slightly in the cold. "Shall we?"

* * *

Damar sat down on a sun warmed bench in the compound gratefully. He was exhausted, the result of sleepless nights, but almost at peace as he waited for his Gul as ordered. He had followed his orders to the letter, hammering out the details of their materials request with Weyoun. There was another purpose behind Dukat's request, but he was content to wait until it was revealed to him. The important thing was, he had Dukat's trust again! He could feel it!

The hand at his shoulder woke him from his unintended slumber and he opened his eyes to see Dukat standing over him. Damar scrambled to his feet, blinking in the sunlight.

"Sit down." Dukat said as he sank down onto the bench with a contented sigh. The warmth was pleasant, and it matched the inner warmth of knowing that he held the key to Cardassia's future once more. Time enough for Damar and that fool Garak when it was assured. "I trust our rights under the agreement will be honored this time?" he asked.

"Delivery should begin tomorrow", Damar answered as he settled back in his place. "The metals will be in the first shipment."

"Excellent!" said Dukat. "I knew I could count on you, Damar." He was warmed further by the look of pure adoration his second gave him. "And the Founder?"

"Still with Odo", Damar said, unsuccessfully hiding his disgust. "I posted the guard as ordered, and will be notified the moment they leave the room."

*If they leave by the door* Dukat thought privately. "Keep me informed, but don't alert them to our surveillance", he ordered. He turned to face his second squarely. "You don't look well, Damar. Is everything all right?"

"Yes sir!" Damar pulled himself upright, returning Dukat's gaze forthrightly.

"Have you eaten today?" Dukat asked, amused.

"No sir", Damar answered, puzzled.

"Then join me for dinner." It was not a request. Damar followed his Gul to the refectory, puzzled, but blissful. Apparently he had been forgiven. He wondered what he had done to restore himself to Dukat's good graces.

Later that evening, they sat in Dukat's quarters at Central Command. A half empty bottle of kanaar and a couple of short glasses, partly full of the red-black paca variety Dukat favored occupied the table between them. Both men were companionably drunk by now. Dukat fixed his unsteady gaze on his second. By now, the younger man was completely at ease, and Dukat knew that Damar was his again, would do anything he asked of him. He would never see the blow coming, when Dukat chose to deliver it. But for now, he was necessary.

"What happened to our Klingon vessel, Damar?" he asked.

"Examined, the data recorded in the Central Archive, and then broken up for scrap when the shortages began", Damar said sadly.

"A pity", Dukat echoed. "Few Cardassians have lived as we have."

His second nodded drunkenly. "Few of us remember what it is to be Cardassian. It is just as you said, sir."

"Ohh" Dukat waggled a finger at Damar. "No "sir" here, remember? We have lived too long in uncertain times together for that, my friend." He smiled as Damar glowed at the familiar tone. "But we will make them remember, won't we? Destiny has handed us that task, as well as the means to accomplish it." He lifted his glass of kanaar in salute. "You don't see it, do you?" Dukat asked sadly. Damar's face was a study in confusion. "We control more territory than the Cardassian State has ever had."

"Yes", Damar agreed. "But only so long as the Dominion allows it." His mouth twisted as he spat the name.

"You hate them too, don't you?" Dukat asked. "You will have your chance Damar, I promise you that." He put the glass down and leaned forward over the table, his eyes commanding Damar's attention. "Consider the Dominion's position, now that the Federation controls the wormhole. Consider the Federation's position. They have already sent out indications that they would sue for peace, if it were possible. What does that suggest to you, Damar?"

"That they are the weaker race." Damar answered, hoping that that was the answer his Gul wanted.

It was not. Dukat's face fell. "And nothing more?" He waited. The silence grew uncomfortable. "Tell me, Damar, what would happen if the Jem 'Hadar were to be deprived of the White, with the wormhole closed to them?"

Damar's eyes grew faraway as he considered. "They would destroy whatever they could before they fell, especially if we were the cause."

"But the Vorta and the few Founders trapped on this side of the wormhole would then be helpless, would they not?" Dukat was patient, though a child of ten should have grasped the implications by now. "And there is no need for us to be the cause, not when the Federation would gladly do the deed for us, if they knew where and how to strike at the White production facilities." At last the light dawned. "Can I count on you to do what is necessary, Damar?"

"Yes".

"Then rest, my friend" Dukat said. "I will need you tomorrow." He watched as his second rose unsteadily and made his way to the door.

* * *

The door chime bleeped in Marik's quarters. She resisted the urge to pull the blankets over her head and got up to answer it, throwing a robe over her sleepshirt.

"Enter" she called.

Dukat did so, stopping in the center of the living room. He carried a large basket on his left arm, the contents covered with a cloth. "I apologize for disturbing you so early, Marik", he said. "It's a beautiful morning, would you care to join me for breakfast?"

Her first impulse was to refuse, it was far too early, but he was, after all, the Head of the State, and she knew his invitation had nothing to do with the scenery or food. She dressed quickly and went out into the morning with him.

They walked across the large parade ground, behind the main building, to a small aircar. Dukat motioned her inside, put his basket on the floor in the rear of the craft, then quickly took off, heading out of the capital.

"I see the shortages are not as bad as the official reports would have us believe", Marik said dryly, after she had settled herself in one of the seats.

Dukat chuckled, his hands busy at the controls. "You are direct, aren't you," he said. "I find that to be one of your best qualities, Marik."

His fingers danced through the sequence of clearance codes that allowed them to leave the capital. They were flying over the last of the buildings now, heading toward the T'Lantha Recreation Area. He set the autopilot as the last obstacle was passed, and turned to face his companion.

"The subterfuge was necessary, I assure you. I need your help, Marik. The future of the State may depend on it."

Marik eyed the bulkheads around her significantly, but said nothing.

"You needn't worry," said Dukat, following her gaze. "I spent several hours making sure all listening devices in this vehicle were disabled."

"What do you want of me?"

* * *

Garak rose to his feet as sleep tried to find him again. He walked briskly around the small room, then stopped, looking blearily out the window that faced the trees that surrounded the tiny cabin. Soon he would have to resort to the stimulant again, he knew.

Sisko had watched this same pattern long enough for it to have become familiar. When they had first arrived, Garak had joined him in the task of securing the small building against intruders, and then he had gone to the computer. The primitive interface had not allowed the former Obsidian Order agent to do much, and Garak had soon tired of the same error messages as his fatigue grew. Sisko's attempts to engage him in conversation had been accepted almost gratefully at first, but the pauses had become longer and longer as Garak's attention wandered.

"Garak," Sisko tried to attract the exhausted Cardassian's attention again. He got up and went to stand beside him. Still no response. He reached over and tapped him on the shoulder.

Garak started violently, throwing off the light touch. "Yes, Captain?" Garak said in a normal voice, as if nothing were amiss.

"You have to sleep", Sisko said.

Garak sighed and went to the table where the bag he had acquired to replace the one Odo had left behind was. He fumbled at the flap, looking for his hypospray.

"That isn't a good idea right now", Sisko put his hand on the flap.

"Do you mind?" said Garak indignantly. "I think falling asleep would be a far worse choice."

"How long do you think you can keep this up?" Sisko asked.

"As long as necessary, Captain", Garak said. "I really don't have any other choice."

"In the morning, we're going to have to get out of here, find Odo, and get off planet", Sisko said. " We've got to get that information back to the Federation, and I'll need you functioning then."

"I will be", said Garak shortly, patting the little bag on the table gently. "I'm glad to see that you don't trust him either", he continued. If only he could keep the man talking! The small hours before dawn were always the worst. He had meant to put off his next dose for as long as possible. He knew that waiting would enhance the drug's effects nad tomorrow, all his cunning would be needed if they were to get away.

"Only to a point", Sisko answered. "He needs at least one of us to make it back."

A surprised smile crossed Garak's face. "Very astute, Captain!" he said. "I'm sure we both know who that one will be." He stared at his hands on the tabletop, then jerked himself to his feet as he felt himself begin to drift. "Actually, this is quite a lovely place", he said in desperation. "It's a pity you won't have the chance to see it properly."

"I've seen enough of Cardassia for one trip", said Sisko. "Maybe another time."

"Perhaps." To Garak's horror, he found himself drifting again. He saw the tabletop rising up to meet him and realized, just before sleep claimed him, that there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop it.

Sisko settled himself to wait for dawn. It was a calculated risk, allowing Garak to sleep, but Dukat's aircar was the only quick way out of this place, and he would need Garak's alert, aware help to capture it and get it back to the capital.

* * *

Slowly, awareness of Garak diffused through the two Linked Founders. S/he seized upon the knowledge triumphantly, and the nearness of him. The two took to the ventilation shafts, mindful of the guards outside, and headed for the aircar pad.

"Wouldn't it be easier to take a form that could go there itself, instead of an aircar?" Odo asked. He sat forward in his seat, eager to hear hir answer. He still wore the orange draperies of a Founder.

S/he exulted at the thirst for knowledge that radiated from him. At last! Now it would be possible to show him the true glory of what it meant to be a Founder, now that he had finally stopped behaving like a willful child! "Easier, yes, but not better. It is our responsibility not to remind the Solids of their limitations." S/he fed clearance codes and course adjustments into the board as they talked. "And you forget our purpose. We will need to bring them back with us."

As s/he spoke, Odo travelled along his awareness and sensed Sisko as well.

S/he smiled as he did so, pleased at his quickness. "It seems that our Cardassian allies are not as capable as they claim".

The lights of the capital gave way to the unrelieved blackness of the night darkened surface, and the pale starlight above. Odo felt himself expand, as he had when s/he came to him on Terok Nor. The blackness of his life among the Solids, or the cold starlight of the Great Link? Which was his true home?

* * *

Dukat set the aircar down some distance from the cabin. He opened the hatch and picked up the basket that had served as both disguise and a means to feed his prisoners, then stepped out into the leaf-scented morning. Marik followed him down the stony path, over the ridge separating them from the cabin, and down through the spikeleaf trees that surrounded the small domed structure. All was silent. They stepped through the open door into the empty room.

"It appears your bird has flown", Marik observed. She turned and went back outside, standing silently to listen for a moment. Nothing.

Dukat set the basket on the table carefully, resisting the impulse to throw it against the wall, then went to join Marik. She was standing beside a flattened patch of vegetation in the clearing, just large enough to have been made by an aircar. He looked out across the hillside that sloped down toward the capital and sighed.

"So it would seem ", he said at last. So the tailor had eluded him again. "Would you care for some breakfast, Marik?"

* * *

Sisko stared out the oval port into the nothingness of space. It had all happened so fast! He must have dozed, for he woke to Odo's hand on his shoulder. There was no mistaking the orange draperies he wore, nor the presence of the Founder beside him. Before he coud react, his hands had been imprisoned in Odo's substance, and he and Garak had been roughly bundled into the waiting aircar. There was no mistaking the look of betrayal Garak gave him as he realized he was helpless.

The flight to the capital had been made in silence, Odo between them, his substance holding both tightly. But when the aircar had landed, he suddenly let go of them and sprang on his fellow Founder. Garak had calmly pulled a small disruptor from the top of his uniform boot and had waited for a clear shot. Sisko jumped for the controls and got the tiny craft airborne again. The two Founders had separated, and Garak and Sisko had ducked as each flew against a bulkhead. For an instant, Odo's face had appeared, cartoonlike, from one of the gelatinous forms. That was all the information Garak needed. Quickly, he shot hir, opened the hatch and threw hir from the craft, then he took the controls from Sisko and flew them to the cargo port. From there, they had gone to an orbital station and stolen a small ship. Now Garak slept heavily and Sisko and Odo were alone with their thoughts. He felt the dreamlike quality of the last few days slipping away at last, falling behind them as they ran for the border between Cardassian space and home. Only the information Dukat had provided them with seemed real. He felt the other realities he had been living in, sleeping and waking, merge into the one he had always assumed he lived in as he thought of the report he must make to Starfleet, the mission ahead. It was like waking, he realized now as his senses returned and with them, anger at being so manipulated.

Odo sat silently as well, grateful that Garak, who was far too perceptive, was asleep, and wishing Sisko was as well. He could feel the Link spanning out behind him, and he knew s/he could feel it too. He had felt hir change as s/he fell. At least he didn't have the death of another of his people on his hands, but the pain of separation was worse punishment, now that he had lived as his people did, if only for a little while. Once the White facilities were destroyed, that haven would be forever closed to him. The first Founder had died almost by accident, but this betrayal would be deliberate and unforgivable. He looked out on the cold stars, and wondered if he would survive the choice he had been forced into.

THE END