Fate

A/N: I didn’t have a chance to have this chapter betad. If you’d like to volunteer for the job, be my guest! Thanks! And, thanks for being patient if you’re reading!

Fallon had done what he ordered her to, though without Angel in her sight, it didn’t make her feel better. She didn’t know if Dukat would kill her or not. She was an illegitimate child, maybe a political threat. The idea upset her so much that she vomited in the toilet and lost the food that she’d replicated for herself. To make things worse, there was no clock in the room and the computer refused to respond to her questions. It could’ve been a few hours or a few minutes and given her state, she wouldn’t have known the difference.

Finally, as she was beating a track into the floor with her pacing, she heard the doors opened and turned to see Dukat—with her daughter. Angel slept in his arms, oblivious to the discomfort and worry her mother had been experiencing. Immediately Fallon stepped closer but a single look from Dukat stopped her. Anxious, she watched as his attention returned to the child in his arms. His hand came up and gently pet over her dark hair.

“You may come with me to put her to bed.”

The words were extremely quiet but she heard him and followed him when he left the room. Fallon didn’t take the opportunity to enjoy being out of captivity, she was more concerned with Angel, if she was okay, where she would sleep, if she was hungry…

The room Dukat had for her was a smaller guest room or office, it was rather barren of anything so it was hard to tell. But, a simple, makeshift larger crib had been set up for her. Dukat handled the snoozing baby as if he had years of experience at it (and he probably did) as he put her in the crib. Angel hardly stirred and laid on her side, a soft sigh exhaling from her puffy little lips. Without waiting for permission from Dukat, Fallon moved forward and gripped the edges, looking in at her daughter for any sign at all that she’d been hurt. She hadn’t, though Dukat seemingly cared.

Fallon felt his hand on her arm soon after she ever so gently touched the small child’s head. Reluctantly, Fallon followed Dukat’s motion and silently left the room. Angel needed her sleep anyway and, she appeared to be fine. Then again who could say? She wasn’t a doctor, and she really wasn’t sure what Dukat was capable of. Once they were outside, the woman looked up at Dukat.

“Thank you for taking care of her.” Fallon said quietly once the doors were shut. She didn’t want to wake the sleeping child. Dukat was silent as he studied her. The way he looked at her, as if he were picking out the parts of her that was the same, was unnerving. Her eyes were still the same, just framed by darker hair. Had the shape of her face changed any? Fallon didn’t think so. Yet, he looked at her as if he were trying to decide if he knew her or not. She imagined a datapadd in his mind as he fingered and dragged the parts of her that he knew onto a blank template. It wasn’t a pleasant thought, though she had to wonder if he was displeased with the parts he didn’t recognize.

“She is a beautiful little girl.” Finally the Cardassian spoke, and she swallowed down some surprise. Looking at him, she breathed in a somewhat unsteady breath.

“Yes, she is. It was my hope that on Bajor, she might be better accepted than on Earth.” It sounded like an odd statement, but a lot of Bajoran/Cardassian babies were born due to the Occupation, these children, now older, might sympathize with hers and give her little Angel a support group. At least, that had been her plan. But, she had made a lot of plans, and it seemed like none of them would come to be.

Fallon watched him before breathing in and glancing around the room. Her attention was drawn back to the man who, no matter where he was in a room, was the center of it.

“Mixie-“

“Fallon.”

The instant reply was a trigger reaction and she breathed in. “That isn’t my life anymore. I don’t answer to that name and I am no longer that woman. Do you understand?” It was surprisingly bold, considering, and when she watch his expression reconsidered the bold approach.

“Let’s play a game.”

Fallon watched as the question seemed to throw him off, though, in true Dukat fashion, he took the offer. Pleased to see him recline on the couch and wait for her to elaborate, she smiled again and breathed out. “You ask a question, and I answer, then I ask a question and you answer.” After a moment, Dukat gave a nod.

“Why did you name her Angel?” That wasn’t the first question she expected, but she welcomed it. Her daughter’s name was much easier than some of the questions she expected the Cardassian to ask. Fallon shrugged. “I thought it was pretty. When I had her, the doctor put her in my arms and I just thought she was the most beautiful little thing I had ever seen.” The woman admitted. It was so much easier to say it in this detached way. When she sealed up that part of her life, when she changed her name and she moved and she started over, it almost was like she wasn’t telling her own history, but someone else’s. Somehow, that was comforting.

“How did you get off the planet?” Now it was Fallon’s turn to ask a question. That was particularly curious as they weren’t that advanced.

“Where we were, it was just a part of their culture. Those were the convicts and only a portion of their planet belonged to them. The rest is more advanced—advanced enough that I was able to get a distress call out. A Cardassian transport got it and picked me up.” Dukat replied and Fallon could tell by his tone that there was more to it than that. Though, she wasn’t sure that she wanted to know.

Dukat stood up and crossed his arms before looking out of the darkened window and watching white flash intermittently on the black background.

“Why did you leave?” The question came from the windows, across the couch and glass-like coffee table, then finally to the stool beside the replicator that she was perched on. Looking at him, Fallon realized how small the room was.

He asked before, but they both knew that the answer she gave wouldn’t be enough for him. The answer had been enough for her for the last three years.

Fallon swiveled slightly in the bar-stool style chair as she thought about the answer. “I was protecting myself. I had to leave.” Fallon replied and nodded some. That was the answer she told herself anyway. But, she had thought it through a lot as she made the transition to her new life. She had to leave. She had made herself love Dukat, and she couldn’t let that decide her life.

“Protecting yourself from what?!” Dukat asked, sounding somewhat surprised and disbelieving that she had anything to protect herself from. The man rose up some, and she shook her head. “That isn’t how you play.” Fallon replied in a matter of fact tone, though she knew that he didn’t care about any rules. Without a murmur, the tall, elegantly formed Cardassian crossed through the room before reaching the stool she had stiffened on top of.

Dukat’s form easily towered over hers, making Fallon feel as small as she once did in a not so far away lifetime ago. Looking up at him, the woman was forced to lean back as his hands maneuvered to her knees and shifted them apart. This act, so intimate in nature and so bold, made something shift inside of her.

“No,” Fallon surprised herself with the heaviness of the word. The single word was like a skipping stone, clumsily thrown and breaking the water with a blunt ‘gomp’ before disrupting the sediment below. She questioned how well the no would be received.

“I’m married, and I’m not some little girl.” She put her hands on his uniformed chest and pushed some. “And you can’t push me around anymore.” Moving her legs, she shifted until Fallon freed herself from him and went to the windows. It was no safer there, but she felt like she could escape. If it weren’t for Angel, she felt like she could take flight right out into space. It was all an illusion, of course, but it was nice nonetheless. Feeling a presence at her back, she closed her eyes when his hands came up to her arms.

“You were married,” The words were soft and punctuated as Dukat’s hands smoothed over her arms and moved down to her waist. She tried to step away, but Dukat’s hands were solid anchors on her that kept her against him. “You were married,” His repeated whisper sent shivers down Fallon’s spine, forcing her eyelids to shut despite her best effort not to be affected. Dukat’s hands slowly crawled from her waist so that his fingers stretched over her abdomen and the area just beneath her navel. “Mixie, you aren’t married anymore.” Cool lips touched under her ear. She tried not to listen to what he said, but she couldn’t ignore the truth. Ujan was dead. This whole future and this whole life that she had carefully made for herself had slipped out of her fingers in the matter of a day. It was as frustrating as grasping a grease covered balloon ball.

Those thoughts were so consuming that she hardly noticed when he nudged her head to the side and began placing kisses on the smooth skin of her neck. She did notice when his voice, a very quiet sound but one that caught her attention nonetheless, emitted from beside her ear. “Say your name.” His lips and tongue stroked the sensitive parts of her ear. Fallon shivered, and Mixie tried, feebly, to pull from his grip.

“Fallon,” The word wavered and became flat before it was fully breathed out of her mouth. Her back curled slightly when she felt him hug her body closer to his hard, uniformed chest. How many times had her body been pressed to that uniform, or a uniform like that, in the past? She could’ve sworn that the shape of the uniform had left permanent indentions in her back those years ago.

“Your REAL name,” The whisper was insistent against her head and she could feel his cooler breath on her skin and the parts of her ear made more sensitive from his attention. Sucking her lips between her teeth, she closed her eyes and tried not to be affected by him. It wasn’t until she felt his hand slowly trailing further down, closer to the one place that would empower him more should he reacquaint himself with it.

Sucking in air suddenly, Mixie turned her head to him. “Mixie,” She whispered. Her face was next to his before she reached down and grasped his wrist. “My name is Mixie,” This time it was more measured and controlled, not shoved out in a single woosh of breath.

Dukat slowly turned her around before finding her lips with his own and giving her a tender kiss. She lost and he won this battle, though Mixie thought she knew that as soon as his hands his hands touched her waist. Now, it was cemented, cured and he was free to enjoy his victory. When his hands rested once again on her arms and his turned into kisses, Mixie began returning them almost out of habit. Ujan and she used to kiss like this, these sweet and tender kisses. When they kissed, she thought of the next century and how they’d be together.

The thought made her jerk back involuntarily and duck her head. Knowing that Ujan was gone and she was kissing another man was a punch in the figurative stomach. “Please, I can’t do this.” But, she could’ve vomited right then. The man in front of her gave a sigh that was restrained, but tolerant enough. “Alright,” He replied and placed one last kiss to her forehead.

“You’ll be sleeping in my bed though, with me.” Mixie looked up to object but shut her mouth again when she saw his firm expression. He wouldn’t take no, she knew that look. But, one thing she was firm about too was that he wouldn’t take her.