~~~

Postscript
by Mark Russel Stanley

~~~

My life after DS9 unfolded as I never could have imagined.

I could have stayed there, with Ezri, trying to relive Jadzia's life
with her... fooling myself and everyone.

Instead, I went to Cardassia.

On the surface, I was the pretty alien prize of a professor of Hebitian
literature at New Lakarian University... at least for a time. Only
Garak called me pretty after I passed sixty.

I taught xenomicrobiology and immunology seminars at the graduate
level, and practised at a hospital that took alien patients.

At the same time I was the mitigating influence behind the new
Cardassia. I involved myself in rebuilding and maintaining a fascist
state, arguing with Garak over the problems that had caused its fall
the first time. He always listened to me, even implemented my wishes
occasionally -- he guaranteed the protection of political criticism in
academic discourse, for example. It was partly selfish, of course... he
enjoyed arguing with me in the faculty lounge.

Finally, I was a spy. Garak knew, I'm sure, that I was working both for
him and for Section 31, loyal only to my conscience, choosing sides as
my own ethics dictated.

I loved him... I still love him. We both knew we could trust each other
in that, even if the spy game put us at odds occasionally.

In the end, I can't be sorry for what I've done.

He knew... I could feel it in the set of his shoulders as I embraced
him from behind, a sob escaping from deep within my chest as I slid the
knife between his ribs. He turned around, smiled sadly, and kissed my
forehead gently. "I understand," he whispered as he sank to his knees.

~~~

The End
Mark

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Warning: death story