DS9 - And now the scheduled update, oops
Apr. 20th, 2014 11:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seikilosTitle: Addendum: 5x14 "In Purgatory's Shadow"
Fandom: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Gen
Rating & Warnings: PG (references to slavery, death)
Words: 824
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.
Summary: Ziyal has many reasons to stay on DS9.
Author's Notes: This is a rewrite of the scene where Dukat and Ziyal part. Originally, the only reason given for Ziyal wanting to stay on DS9 was that she was waiting for Garak. That really didn't jive with me, though (and it was pretty damn sexist): surely Ziyal would have all kinds of reasons behind her decision. And so this is what came out of that thought.
Tora Ziyal had done many difficult things in the course of her life. She had buried her mother and been left completely alone at age thirteen to live however she could. She'd survived a Breen mining camp for six years with only distant hope of rescue.
Disobeying her father's wishes wasn't comparable to those parts of her life—it couldn't possibly be. But that didn't make acting against him easy.
"Ziyal, you have to trust me," her father said, and even if it had been a long time since she'd last seen him, it wouldn't have taken any degree of familiarity to tell he was very, very displeased with her. "Things are going to change on Cardassia."
She loved her father, she truly did, but to hear such astonishing naiveté coming from him of all people was so absurd, she nearly laughed as she asked, "What things?"
It was a mistake and an obvious one. She could see nearly all that was left of his patience erode as he bit out, "I don't have time to explain. You're leaving. Now."
He turned to step into the shuttle, assuming she would follow like one of his soldiers. There was no question in his mind that she would do anything else.
"I can't go."
He spun around, fast and tight and furious, but she stood her ground.
"It's him, isn't it?" he accused. "That despicable tailor. You don't want to leave because you're waiting for him?"
She shook her head. "It's not just Garak. It's Major Kira and Jadzia and Julian . . . and everyone else on the station. I have a home here, Father. I can't abandon them now when they've been so good to me."
"Your home is on Cardassia," he insisted. He wasn't shouting, but his jaw was as tight as a Breen's fist.
And he still didn't understand. "I have you on Cardassia. That's all. I love you, Father, but . . . but you can't be a home for me. DS9 can, and it is. I feel safe here."
He stared down at her, a slash of a line between his brows. "There is a Dominion fleet on its way here."
"I know."
How could she explain it to him? Her father wasn't always safe—the work he did was often very dangerous—but he had never been powerless. She had. There had never been a place for her on Bajor or Cardassia; she had been a hated outcast on both worlds. And the Breen camp . . . that had been no better than living among the Pah-Wraiths.
But on DS9, there were people who liked her. She made the Bajorans uncomfortable for the most part, it was true, but the others didn't care. And she had friends here, real ones, who weren't interested in what she could get or do for them—they liked her for who she was.
They were people here who would fight for her, and for their sakes, she would do anything.
"I don't care," she went on. She couldn't find the words to explain her thoughts to her father, but she did know how to explain this. "I can't turn my back on them now. There might not be much I can do to help them, but" —she smiled a little, a twitch of an expression— "I can at least be an extra pair of hands."
She could carry cargo or use a dermal regenerator or shoot a gun. It didn't much matter to her. All that did was that she stay here.
"This is ridiculous." Her father shifted his weight from one foot to the other; his patience was going again. He'd tried for her sake, but— "Are these people truly more important to you than obeying your father?"
She couldn't answer that. She couldn't disappoint him with the truth.
Even if she didn't speak, he saw her answer all the same. His anger was plain in his glare, in the dent in his cheek that appeared when someone was behaving poorly, in the way the tendons and ridges of his neck stood out. Anger, she could bear. She knew very well how to stand it. But the way he pulled back from her, putting physical and emotional distance between them—she had no defences against such a terrible loss, and that one gesture nearly made her recant her decision on the spot.
"So be it." Her father's voice was low with betrayal, and oh, it hurt. "Stay here if that's what you want. Stay here and be damned."
He turned his back on her and left her standing alone in the corridor, her fingers half-curled and her limbs trembling at the sight of him walking away. She knew she was doing the right thing—there was no question of her making any other choice. She could only hope that when this was all over, if they were both still alive, he would forgive her for her defiance.
Fandom: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Gen
Rating & Warnings: PG (references to slavery, death)
Words: 824
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.
Summary: Ziyal has many reasons to stay on DS9.
Author's Notes: This is a rewrite of the scene where Dukat and Ziyal part. Originally, the only reason given for Ziyal wanting to stay on DS9 was that she was waiting for Garak. That really didn't jive with me, though (and it was pretty damn sexist): surely Ziyal would have all kinds of reasons behind her decision. And so this is what came out of that thought.
Tora Ziyal had done many difficult things in the course of her life. She had buried her mother and been left completely alone at age thirteen to live however she could. She'd survived a Breen mining camp for six years with only distant hope of rescue.
Disobeying her father's wishes wasn't comparable to those parts of her life—it couldn't possibly be. But that didn't make acting against him easy.
"Ziyal, you have to trust me," her father said, and even if it had been a long time since she'd last seen him, it wouldn't have taken any degree of familiarity to tell he was very, very displeased with her. "Things are going to change on Cardassia."
She loved her father, she truly did, but to hear such astonishing naiveté coming from him of all people was so absurd, she nearly laughed as she asked, "What things?"
It was a mistake and an obvious one. She could see nearly all that was left of his patience erode as he bit out, "I don't have time to explain. You're leaving. Now."
He turned to step into the shuttle, assuming she would follow like one of his soldiers. There was no question in his mind that she would do anything else.
"I can't go."
He spun around, fast and tight and furious, but she stood her ground.
"It's him, isn't it?" he accused. "That despicable tailor. You don't want to leave because you're waiting for him?"
She shook her head. "It's not just Garak. It's Major Kira and Jadzia and Julian . . . and everyone else on the station. I have a home here, Father. I can't abandon them now when they've been so good to me."
"Your home is on Cardassia," he insisted. He wasn't shouting, but his jaw was as tight as a Breen's fist.
And he still didn't understand. "I have you on Cardassia. That's all. I love you, Father, but . . . but you can't be a home for me. DS9 can, and it is. I feel safe here."
He stared down at her, a slash of a line between his brows. "There is a Dominion fleet on its way here."
"I know."
How could she explain it to him? Her father wasn't always safe—the work he did was often very dangerous—but he had never been powerless. She had. There had never been a place for her on Bajor or Cardassia; she had been a hated outcast on both worlds. And the Breen camp . . . that had been no better than living among the Pah-Wraiths.
But on DS9, there were people who liked her. She made the Bajorans uncomfortable for the most part, it was true, but the others didn't care. And she had friends here, real ones, who weren't interested in what she could get or do for them—they liked her for who she was.
They were people here who would fight for her, and for their sakes, she would do anything.
"I don't care," she went on. She couldn't find the words to explain her thoughts to her father, but she did know how to explain this. "I can't turn my back on them now. There might not be much I can do to help them, but" —she smiled a little, a twitch of an expression— "I can at least be an extra pair of hands."
She could carry cargo or use a dermal regenerator or shoot a gun. It didn't much matter to her. All that did was that she stay here.
"This is ridiculous." Her father shifted his weight from one foot to the other; his patience was going again. He'd tried for her sake, but— "Are these people truly more important to you than obeying your father?"
She couldn't answer that. She couldn't disappoint him with the truth.
Even if she didn't speak, he saw her answer all the same. His anger was plain in his glare, in the dent in his cheek that appeared when someone was behaving poorly, in the way the tendons and ridges of his neck stood out. Anger, she could bear. She knew very well how to stand it. But the way he pulled back from her, putting physical and emotional distance between them—she had no defences against such a terrible loss, and that one gesture nearly made her recant her decision on the spot.
"So be it." Her father's voice was low with betrayal, and oh, it hurt. "Stay here if that's what you want. Stay here and be damned."
He turned his back on her and left her standing alone in the corridor, her fingers half-curled and her limbs trembling at the sight of him walking away. She knew she was doing the right thing—there was no question of her making any other choice. She could only hope that when this was all over, if they were both still alive, he would forgive her for her defiance.
