Chapter Text
"Relax, Miles. You're not on trial."
Given that he has both been on trial and still has memories of a false imprisonment that haunt his dreams occasionally, this isn't as comforting as Miles suspects Keiko intended it to be.
"I know," he says, fiddling with the collar of his shirt. "I just—I don't want to mess this up."
"You won't. Ben's known you for years."
"I shouldn't wear a white shirt," Miles says, reaching for the hem. "I might spill somethin' on it. Hell, what if I spill somethin' on him?"
"I'm pretty sure he's had every drink and condiment spattered on his clothing at some point, especially when he was learning how to cook, or teaching Jake."
"What if someone attacks the station and we don't know because we're in the holosuites watching a baseball game and—"
"Miles Edward O'Brien, you are catastrophising. Stop it."
"But—"
"No buts. Everything is going to be fine. If there is an emergency, Ben will have his combadge on him—he's a responsible captain. But I don't think there will be one."
"Things have been goin' too well since the tribble crisis was sorted. Somethin' should've gone sideways by now."
"Chief!" Kira calls from the other side of the door. "The replicator's acting up again! It's creating random colours of paint, without any containers!"
"There's your disaster," Keiko says sweetly. "Maybe you should leave your dating outfit in here while you go fix the replicator."
Miles will soon be very glad indeed that he followed that advice.
"Dinner's in the stasis unit," Ben tells Jake. "There should be enough for everyone, even if Keiko and Molly and Kira come over and everyone has seconds."
"Kira might have thirds," Jake points out. "She's eating for the baby, too."
"There's probably enough for some people to have thirds," Ben assures him.
"I'm not sure I can manage this on my own," Jake admits. "You're usually here to host if we have parties like this."
"And you've seen me do it enough times you shouldn't have any trouble. Besides, Dax will be here, and she promised she'd help."
Jake still looks nervous, but makes no further argument.
The door chimes, and Ben goes to answer it. Dax and Worf are waiting outside.
"Nice outfit, Benjamin," Jadzia says with a grin.
"Thank you, Dax." He notices the two bulging bags she's carrying, and raises an eyebrow slightly. "What did you bring?"
"Something for the kids to try," she says with a shrug. "You didn't think I wasn't going to spoil them a little, did you? Auntie Jadzia has a reputation to uphold."
Ben laughs.
"Spoil them all you like, Old Man. If you tire them out before I get back, I'll consider tonight a success."
She beams.
"Challenge accepted."
The little ones swarm Dax as soon as they see her, delighted chirps mingling with her laughter. Worf hangs back, looking uncomfortable.
"Are you all right, Mr Worf?"" Ben asks.
"I do not know why I was invited to this gathering," Worf admits. "I am—not adept at dealing with children."
"I'm aware," Ben says, thinking of what he's learned about the Klingon's son, a topic he will not discuss with him right now. "However, as you are also aware, my children are far from ordinary. And they haven't gotten to know you yet. They should, seeing as you're a family friend."
Jessi chooses this moment to chime in from beside them.
"Molly says you nice. Keiko says you good to have in crisis."
A brief, startled look flashes across Worf's features.
"That was—very kind of both of them," he says, looking down at Jessi and almost, but not quite, smiling.
"There you are," Ben says. "You'll be fine." He grins as Worf looks up at him again. "And you can help Jake set the table."
He glowers, but there's no heat in it.
Miles is slightly late, but joins Ben at their reserved table before their drinks arrive. Nothing too strong, at this stage, but they've also paid for someone to bring them refreshments while in the holosuites, if the in-program food isn't sufficient.
It only takes a little alcohol to loosen his tongue.
"I've been nervous about this for days," he admits. "It's stupid, I know—"
"It isn't. Do you think I haven't been?"
"It was your idea," Miles answers honestly. "And you've seemed normal all week—I thought you were handling it well."
"Dax noticed," Ben tells him, "but she would. This is the most spontaneous I've been in some time—And I keep thinking about—" He trails off.
"Kasidy?" Miles guesses. "You know this doesn't mean you can't get back with her if you want to. I told you that."
Ben sighs.
"That's just it. I'm not sure I do want to. I—It's complicated. I don't want to bring down the mood."
"Oh, come on. I'm the one who started us talkin' about anxiety. And we're supposed to be gettin' closer." Do you still love her?"
Ben hesitates.
"Yes, but that doesn't change why we've been unable to see each other."
"If you're worried about how prison might have affected her, I was locked up for twenty years. Kind of."
"That's different." He regards him gravely. "I can't believe you can joke about that. I can't imagine how awful that was for you."
"You only know what the reports said. Julian and the counselor didn't break confidentiality."
"Will you tell me about it?"
"Only if you tell me the truth about your feelings for Kasidy."
Ben takes a sip of his drink.
"It's not just about Kasidy," he says quietly. "It's—What happened with her is tangled up with Eddington's betrayal." I know that's not her fault, but—"
Miles nods his understanding.
"Human brains are ridiculous sometimes. I know that from experience." He scowls. "If I ever see that little rat bastard again, I'll wring his neck for you."
Ben chuckles.
"I appreciate the sentiment, but I'd rather deal with him myself."
"Fair enough."
Ben heaves another sigh.
"I could probably have separated the two by now, if she was here, but she isn't. She hasn't been for months. And so much has happened in that time—the conflict with the Dominion and the Klingons escalating was more than enough to change me, but then—"
"Then we happened." Miles looks down, until his newest partner reaches across the table to cup his face gently.
"Yes. But that wasn't a bad thing. I've told you that before. It was just—momentous. I'm not the same as I was before we went transwarp, and not just because we had children."
Miles can understand that. He's had several experiences over the years that had a similar impact. Including the one he'd promised to open up about.
"Do you still want to hear about what happened with the Argrathi?" he asks.
Ben looks at him seriously.
"Only if you want to talk about it."
Miles hesitates for a moment, then decides he does. It's been months since he discussed this with anyone except the counselor, and he's come to terms with those memories being implanted, but they left a mark on him he can't deny. And Ben has a right to know what exactly he's getting into.
It is becoming easier for Jessi to call themself by their Standard name only. It wraps around everything they are, and will be. And though they will always call their parents Gentle Protector and Patient Guardian, they and their siblings are growing used to Standard names in general, especially since they are communicating more in Standard now than they ever did before they got their PADD voices.
The meal Gentle Protector made for them is wonderful, and it is just as wonderful to be able to join in the conversation, especially with Kira and Keiko at the bigger table and Molly sitting with them and their siblings. Molly loves talking to them, and asking questions.
"Is Mr Garak really iridescent?" she asks now.
Brennan nods before elaborating with their PADD.
"Scales have many colours, like rainbow. Would draw, but bad with crayons."
"I could teach you," Molly says eagerly. "Mommy says I'm real good at drawing and colouring!"
"Would like that," Brennan admits. "Hard to hold small things, though."
"You just need to practice," Molly says. "I used to be bad at drawing, but I practiced lots and got better!"
Brennan's patterns show their uncertainty, but also flickers of hope.
"Can/should try/attempt," Jessi tells them in their own language. "Cannot/will not hurt/cause harm."
Brennan nods at them, then addresses Molly again.
"Will try, later. Would like to make pictures. See many things. Notice things others don't. Want to show."
"Do you see our stripes?" Molly asks. "Mommy says humans have stripes but we can't see them."
"You not see stripes?" Jessi asks, making sure their voice sounds surprised. They hadn't known this before now.
"Nope! Mommy says they're invisible, like your patterns."
"Human eyes very bad, then," Brennan declares. "Like seeing everything."
"You could probly draw real interesting pictures," Molly says, beaming at them.
Their reserved booth has a privacy force-field built in. It's an expensive table to book, but Ben had the latinum, and he's now very glad he made the investment. Miles' story is heart-rending—the clinical language of the reports on his progress during his recovery had mentioned severe mental disturbance, but hallucinating a friend he'd made while imprisoned? A friend he remembered killing? It explains a great deal, and the price of telling it seems rather high given how the conversation had gotten here. Ben wants to hug him rather desperately, but there's a table in the way and moving around it would mean turning off the privacy force-field. He settles for reaching across to take both Miles' hands in his own.
"I'm sorry," he says quietly. "If I'd known—I'd never have asked you to go through that again."
Miles smiles wanly.
"It's fine, really. It still hurts—I still miss him, but it's nothing like when I first came back." His smile fades. "I hope I haven't scared you off."
Ben squeezes his hand gently.
"I'm not going anywhere." He let's go and reaches for his drink, finishing it in one gulp. "I think I owe you one of my heavier stories, to balance the account."
"No—Ben, you don't have to—"
"After that, I think I do. Which would you prefer?" He holds up his left hand. "The full story of what happened during First Contact with the wormhole aliens, or"—He raises his right hand—"What happened to me last year, during the subspace inversion?"
"I—Dax hinted there was more to that incident last year, but she said it wasn't her place to tell."
Ben nods soberly. "Is that your final decision?"
Miles looks torn for a moment, then nods.
"I apologise in advance, if this is gonna be as rough as what I just told you."
"It might be."
This time, his partner reaches across the table. Ben clasps the offered hand, and begins.
"Okay, you can all come out now!" Jadzia calls once she and Worf have finished setting things up.
The children, who were sent into their room while the surprise was being prepared, come scampering out immediately, and all stare at the thing now hanging from the ceiling.
The object is spherical, about half a metre in diameter, and covered in little curled bits of coloured paper.
"Tribble thing?" Ash asks after a moment.
"Good girl!" Jadzia beams.
"Glad they not really get that big," Brennan remarks.
"Agreed," Kira says grimly.
"Why you make fake tribble?" Jessi asks.
"It's not just a fake tribble," Jadzia says, unable to restrain her grin. "It's a piñata!"
"What that?" the twins ask in startled near-unison.
"It's a human party game," Jadzia explains. "You can make them any shape you want, but they have to be mostly hollow inside. Then you fill them with candy or small toys—I collected a bunch of candy from different Earth cultures, some from Trill, some from Bajor—and then all the kids take turns wearing a blindfold and trying to hit it with a stick." She holds up the implement in question. "The one who breaks the piñata usually gets first pick of the candy inside, but I have a special prize for the winner." She holds up the other thing she'd brought, a clear plastic container with several compartments, each filled with fluffy spun sugar. "This," she says as the children all stare at it, "is cotton candy. I have several flavours in here you can try, and the winner is free to share it, of course."
"Wow," Molly says softly. "That's a lot of candy." She turns serious eyes on her younger siblings. "Don't eat too much at once. It'll make your tummy hurt real bad."
Jake chuckles, and Molly turns to him, frowning.
"It's not funny, Jake! They gotta be careful!"
"I'm sorry," Jake says, smiling gently down at her. "It's just—You don't usually hear that from a kid your age."
"I gotta be a good big sister," Molly says seriously.
"You're doing very well, sweetie," Keiko says fondly.
"When we start game?" Ash asks.
"Whenever you like." Jadzia holds out the blindfolds she'd brought. "You have to wear these," she says. "You can uncover your eyes while it's not your turn, but when it is, you have to pull it down over them."
It takes a couple of rounds for them to really get into the swing of things. Ash gets several good hits in, as does Jessi, once they get the idea, but it's ultimately Brennan who strikes the finishing blow, sending a shower of wrapped candies tumbling down around them.
They spend a little time tidying up all the candy and bits of broken piñata, then begin the real fun—sorting through and trying out all the sweets. Brennan does share the cotton candy, and it's an instant hit.
All in all, Jadzia's very pleased with how this plan turned out.
They relocate to the holosuite, Ben carrying the picnic hamper he'd prepared in advance. There's food provided in-program, but Ben's anxiety had manifested as a frenzy of cooking and baking, and it would be a terrible shame if all that effort was wasted.
After the heavy conversation they'd had earlier, watching baseball is a good distraction for both of them. Ben explains some of the particulars of the game that Miles didn't know about as they watch, and he seems interested, though Ben catches him staring into the distance once or twice. He doesn't mind really—getting people who don't know as much as him to take real interest in baseball isn't easy at the best of times. Besides, Miles is at least trying to engage, which is more than most of his Academy friends ever did.
He picked a game that was particularly exciting—two very talented teams whose scores remained fairly even until very near the end—and they're just reaching the point at which the winning team pulled ahead when Ben's world turns white, and he hears his heart beating in a steady rhythm.
"Do you mind?" he demands of the Prophets. "I'm in the middle of something!"
"The Sisko knows how that game ends," a memory of Dax says calmly.
"The Sisko is on a date," Ben points out, "and he would like to get back to it."
"The Sisko must listen." A memory of Miles, this time. "The O'Brien must be told."
"Told what? What was so urgent that you interrupted my date to tell me?"
Memories of his little ones flash across his mind's eye, though none of them speak.
"The Sisko'Briens are of Bajor," says a memory of Kira. "They must be protected."
"What did you call them?" Ben whispers, but his question is ignored.
"The Sisko'Briens are changing the game," says a memory of Jake. "Their influence is already felt."
"They are precious to us," the Dax Prophet says. "Guard them well."
And then he snaps back to reality as the crowd around him cheers loudly. Miles has a hand on his shoulder, as if about to shake him.
"You okay?" he asks when the cheers have died down. "You zoned out for a minute there."
Ben holds back his indignation long enough to order the computer to freeze the program, something he hardly ever does when baseball is involved.
"I just had a visitation," he tells Miles.
"The Prophets?"
Ben nods. "They said to tell you the children need to be protected, that they were of Bajor, and precious to them."
"As if we weren't going to do that anyway," Miles responds in slight annoyance.
"I know, but the emphasis is—ominous."
"You don't seem that worried. Just miffed."
"They called them the Sisko'Briens!" Ben blurts out, unable to hold it back any longer. "They just smashed our names together like—like—"
Well, that is a tidy portmanteau," Miles observes, a playful glint in his eyes. "And there are worse things they could be called."
"I know, but—They have names!"
"And they're collectively Sisko'Briens."
Ben scowls. "Don't you start."
Miles chuckles.
"Relax, Ben, I'm only teasing." His expression turns thoughtful. "Although ..."
"What now?"
"I was just thinking," Miles muses. "The Sisko'Brien Salamanders sounds like an excellent baseball team name."
Ben stares at him for a moment, then smiles.
"You're right. That's brilliant."
Miles chuckles. Ben joins in. Chuckles turn to full-blown laughter, and between that and the deep, passionate kiss they share when they've calmed down, it's several more minutes before Ben has enough breath to unfreeze the program.