ADVERTISEMENT
 
 
Well, I posted this story recently to ASCEM, where it sank like a
stone ... but I figure that's because most people there aren't
familiar enough with DS9 to "get" this pairing. I know you guys
will, though. :-)

AUTHOR: C. Zdroj
TITLE: The Creative Spark
PART: 1/1
RATING: NC-17
SERIES: DS9
PAIRING: Douglas/Kay from FBtS, AU O/K, if you will ...

SUMMARY: Not an Odo/Kira story in the traditional sense, this
story is based on the characters in the episode "Far Beyond the
Stars." Douglas and Kay deal with their reactions to Benny
Russell's breakdown -- and with their feelings for each other.
Special thanks to Gary, who came up with the notion
that Douglas at one time may have been Kay's writing teacher, and
was good enough to let me use the idea here. The story also
appears in the fanzine "Fragments of Amber" and appears here with
permission of the zine's editor, me. :-)

~~~

The Creative Spark
by C. Zdroj

After the ambulance took Benny away, they were all left in a
state of numbed shock. Kay's ears were still ringing with the
sound of the siren and her mind with the bitter echoes of Benny's
voice as she watched the flashing red lights fade into the
distance. It was too much to wrap her mind around all at once.
She felt herself besmirched with guilt and shame, even though she
knew, intellectually, that she wasn't personally at fault for
what had just happened. Somehow, though, she was implicated in
Benny's breakdown. They all were. She walked back up the steps
and into the office without really seeing anything.

A hand suddenly descended on her shoulder. She looked up into the
apparently concerned eyes of her husband. "Kay?" Julius queried
in that velvet British accent of his. "You all right?"

She shrugged his hand off. "I'll be fine."

Julius stiffened visibly at the rebuff, but Kay made no attempt
to soften the blow.

"Well then -- I'll see you later tonight. I need to meet with
that agent from London."

"Sure," she said. The snide little voice in the back of her mind
added, *You do that.*

He slipped past her to leave. The others in the staff room, if
they had heard the exchange, did not remark on it. Uncomfortable
silence had flooded the tiny work-area, and it was not difficult
to hear the muffled sounds of raised voices coming from Douglas's
office. Kay shot Albert a look. "What's going on?"

Albert shook his head dismissively. "Herb's at it again with
Doug. You know how the two of them are. Bicker like an old
married couple." His fair, open features colored as if he'd just
inadvertently said something embarrassing. Kay allowed herself a
small frown. Everyone in the office knew that her marriage to
Julius was in trouble. Albert hurriedly assembled the last of his
paperwork and stuffed it under one arm. On his way out past her,
he patted her arm consolingly. "Don't worry -- I'm sure that
Benny will be all right."

She nodded and managed a thin smile.

Douglas's secretary, Darlene, was on her way out as well. "Never
a dull moment in this place, is there?" she said as she gathered
her things. Kay noted that Darlene's hands were shaking. She was
obviously in a hurry to leave, but valiantly trying to cover over
her anxiety with humor.

"Guess not," said Kay, "Though I think a little boredom might be
welcome here tomorrow."

"We can hope," said Darlene. Kay watched her slip out the door.
In the silence that followed, the shouting in Douglas's office
grew even louder.

"What do you mean there's no way? We owe it to him to do
something. Surely even you can see that?"

With a tiny sigh, Kay decided it was time to break them up --
again. Herb's heart was in the right place, she knew, but taking
the bulldog approach with Douglas right now wasn't likely to
yield any results. The bickering voices stopped abruptly as soon
as she opened the door. Douglas, tall and stricken-looking, and
Herb, flushed and embarrassed, both met her eyes guiltily before
looking away -- like a couple of kids caught squabbling. "Am I
interrupting something?" she queried.

"I was merely suggesting to our fearless leader here that we
might find some way to publish Benny's story, but he --"

"I told you it wasn't practical," snapped Douglas, "You want the
job of going to Stone and explaining this mess, then be my --"

Kay had moved forward across the room, and placed a hand on
Douglas's arm, silencing him. "I think we should leave this
discussion for later. Everybody's pretty upset right now.
Besides -- we're the only ones left in the office."

Herb looked over at Kay, his gaze coming to rest on her hand
where it was still poised on Doug's arm. He grinned wryly. "See
if you can't talk some sense into him," he advised in his
grumbling way, his eyes still looking daggers at the senior
editor. He turned toward the door, muttering, "no one else can
..." on the way out.

For a long moment Douglas and Kay said nothing, waiting as they
listened to Herb's footfalls recede and grow faint as he left the
office.

Kay watched Doug's impassive profile for a few seconds. Despite
what seemed a perpetually sour expression these days, and a
prickly demeanor to almost everyone who met him, she knew well
that there was a good deal more to Douglas Pabst than initially
met the eye. There was a human being encased in that cynical
demeanor, even though it wasn't always obvious.

She'd been watching his face when Doug announced to the entire
staff that the latest issue of Incredible Tales had been pulped.
They all knew that it had been on account of Benny's story --
specifically because Benny had chosen to make his central
character a Negro. But Douglas had avoided mentioning this fact
directly. He'd talked around it. Was it out of some old-fashioned
sense of civility or propriety that he'd avoided the issue -- or
something more personal -- a genuine desire not to wound Benny
any more than was necessary? Or to soften the blow of having to
fire him? Was it, perhaps, a touch of genuine guilt or a feeling
of being responsible? Douglas Pabst, the hard-nosed workaday
editor, would deny any suggestion of sentiment underlying his
professional actions. He'd cultivated his no-nonsense demeanor
over many years. But Kay knew there was more to what he'd done,
and more to whatever he might be feeling now. But first she had
to brace for his initial, and entirely predictable, response to
her presence.

"There was no need to rescue me," he grated, "especially from
Herb."

"How about from yourself?"

"Oh, please."

"Doug, I saw the way you looked when--"

"Do you think it was my fault?" he demanded, cutting her off.

"It," she knew, meant the whole situation involving Benny. Kay
looked up at her editor. Behind the polished lenses of his
glasses, the blue eyes were intent, deadly serious.

"Is that what Herb said?" she asked.

"No, but he might as well have."

"Doug --"

"I tried, Kay. You have no idea how --" He moved away from her
and began to pace the room. After a few moments, he removed his
glasses to rub tiredly between his brows, just above the bridge
of his nose. "You ... none of you have any idea how difficult it
was to explain -- to justify -- all of this to Stone. I'm the one
who takes the heat for every editorial decision that happens
here."

"Nobody blames you for what happened, Doug," she said quietly. It
was a lame half-truth and she knew it, wincing as she heard
herself say the words, and Douglas's sour expression told her he
wasn't fooled by her sympathy.

"Trying to cheer me up won't work," he told her. "Besides,
shouldn't you be headed home with Julius?" There was a faint hint
of concern in his voice.

"My husband has a business arrangement to attend to," said Kay
sarcastically. "He's not coming home, not tonight, anyway."

"I see," said Douglas slowly. "Are things all right between the
two of you?"

Now it was her turn to get angry. "Ask him," she replied tersely.

"I'll take that as a no."

"Don't start playing marriage counselor with me, Doug."

"I was just concerned. But then, I suppose you don't need that
from me anymore, do you?"

The dig hurt, just as it was meant to, but Kay wasn't one to give
up without a fight. "I don't object to your concern -- I object
to you changing the subject." She sighed and covered her face
with a hand. "Look -- can we start this conversation over?"

"Fine," said Douglas sarcastically, "You go first."

"Let's go get a coffee someplace -- and talk. I mean really
talk."

He met her gaze for a moment, evidently surprised, and then
stared at the floor. "I have work that I should do," he offered,
rather unconvincingly.

"It can wait," she said. "Besides, you're not in any shape to
concentrate on it." Another moment ticked by without a response
from Douglas. "Oh, come on, Doug," Kay pleaded, "Can't we call a
truce? For now?" She saw him, almost imperceptibly, begin to give
way. His shoulders became less rigid as she watched him.

"I'll buy," she offered, a teasing note creeping into her voice.

When he looked up at her again, his features had noticeably
softened. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I'd
be careful about giving your money away right now -- who knows
where your next paycheck will come from?"

"I'll take the chance," she replied, smiling herself. "Let's go."

~~~~

The coffee shop wasn't crowded, and they were able to secure a
table near a window, where they watched the crowds hurrying past.
They were silent for some time, but after their coffee arrived,
Kay stared into her cup only a moment or two before lowering her
voice to ask, "So -- exactly what did Mr. Stone object to? He
must have said."

Douglas sighed. "As if you didn't already know. As if everyone in
the office didn't know. I should have realized how transparent
that fact would be when I tried to explain. Benny was right. The
issue was pulped because his story crossed the color-line."

"I'm sorry, Doug."

He looked away from her, no longer the tough and savvy editor,
but a much more vulnerable and self-doubting man. He seemed
smaller to her, thinner and tired. "So am I," he said after a
moment. "Stone said couldn't believe that I'd let such a thing
get by me. He threatened to replace me. Maybe I should've just
quit, though that would hardly have saved Benny's job. God, what
an ugly business." He put his head briefly into his hands, and
Kay could see plainly that he was distressed. Watching him made
her ache -- this was a side of Douglas that few people saw, but
which she herself knew well. She reached across the table and
covered his hand with her own. He looked up, startled, at the
gesture.

His expression slowly changed as he took her hand, becoming one
of those sharp, discerning gazes that he seemed able to turn on
and off at will -- the type of look that she hadn't seen from him
in quite some while. "What?" she asked, feeling like a schoolgirl
who'd been caught with a cigarette. "What did I do now?"

"Things aren't all right, are they? With you and Julius, I mean.
You're not happy. It's showing in your work."

"I could say the same thing about you," she countered. "How long
has it been since you wrote anything? Not since your divorce was
finalized, I'll bet."

"Fair enough," he sighed, "but I asked you first." There was a
pause. Douglas, as both editor and friend, had never been one to
pull his punches, and he didn't do so now. "Kay -- what's going
on with the two of you?"

She sighed. "Not much, since you ask," she said, with open
hostility in her tone. "We don't actually even write together
these days. The joint byline has become a kind of formality.
We're just editing each other now -- sometimes not even that."

"You never needed a writing partner, you know," he told her.
"Your work was always good." He meant it. And he should know.
He'd been reading her work longer than anyone else. One thing
she'd always admired about Douglas was the fact that he
respected ability no matter who it came from: male or female,
black or white.

Warmed though she was, she avoided his gaze. "I think Julius is
seeing someone else."

Douglas stared at her in disbelief.

"I can't prove it," she shrugged, trying to sound casual, "but
I'm reasonably sure. It wouldn't be the first time."

"What are you going to do?" he demanded.

She looked up guiltily, stunned by his directness. "I ... don't
know." She made her tone deliberately hard. "Live with it, have
an affair -- who knows?" Flippantly as she spoke, it was obvious
she was hurt. "Someone should have warned me years ago about men
who consider the idea of monogamy quaint and old-fashioned. Oh
wait, I seem to recall that you warned me about that."

"I was jealous," Douglas admitted. "I never really thought he'd
..." his voice trailed off. "Why didn't you tell me things were
going so badly?"

"What -- and spoil my professional image?" Kay snorted. "Besides,
I thought everyone had figured it out."

"You know what I mean ... We used to confide in each other."

"Yes. We used to." Kay sighed. "I'm sorry. I meant to cheer you
up. I just -- today with what happened to Benny -- on top of
everything else ... I guess I needed to talk to somebody myself."

Douglas said nothing for a moment. "Why don't you let me walk you
home? It's getting dark."

~~~~

They walked slowly. There were few people about, and the cool
evening air was somewhat calming.

"I don't expect you or anyone else to believe this," said
Douglas, "but I really did want to see Benny's story published. I
took some convincing, I know, and I'm no social do-gooder -- but
that issue was as good as anything we've ever done. Damned shame
to see everyone's work go to waste."

"Did you tell Mr. Stone that?"

"No, because my good friend Herbert is one hundred percent
correct about one thing: I am a coward." He stopped on the
sidewalk, as if waiting to hear the words come echoing back to
him, but the night was still.

"It wasn't your fault. You tried."

Douglas gave a derisive snort. "I'm the editor. Of course it's my
fault."

"No more yours than the rest of us," she said. "We're all to
blame."

"What do you mean?" He sounded puzzled.

"I mean -- we never asked him anything about his life, did we? We
didn't want to know about it. We all know that people like Benny
get treated ... differently. Can't live in the same neighborhoods
or go to the same schools. We wanted him to act just like one of
us, so we could pretend that everything was fine and right with
the world, even though we all know that it isn't. We should have
seen this coming. I mean, we saw him every damned day, but none
of us even knew who he was. And we never bothered to find out."

"We can't change the world, Kay. It is the way it is."

"You didn't always think that."

"Ah, you're recalling an idealistic young writing teacher who
once told you to give voice to the story that's inside you and
clamoring to get out. Unfortunately, that man no longer exists. I
am now just what I look like -- a cynical old editor."

There was a brief silence. They started walking again. After a
while, Kay asked, "Why do you work for a fiction magazine then?"

"Because it's better than cleaning toilets or stringing electric
wire or balancing the books for someone's oil company. That's
why."

"And that's all it is to you -- a job?"

Douglas did not answer.

They stopped abruptly when they realized they had reached a
doorstep, but the wrong one. Without thinking, they had walked to
his apartment building rather than hers. "This is what happens
when you get old," Douglas muttered. "You can't even walk and
think at the same time. Why don't you come up and I'll call you a
cab?"

They ascended the stairs. Four flights up Douglas took out his
key and ushered her inside.

Kay looked around. "I can't believe I've never been here before,"
she said.

"Ah, yes," said Douglas wryly. "The bachelor flat -- abode of the
carefree divorced man. I'm afraid it's a mess. Can I get you a
drink?"

"Why not?"

He flicked on a light and she saw that he was right about the
apartment. It was cramped and untidy and littered with books and
papers. There were dirty dishes in the sink and piles of unwashed
laundry tucked into odd places -- all the usual signs of someone
unused to taking care of himself. Douglas went to a cabinet,
opened a bottle of brandy and poured Kay a drink. She hunted for
a place to sit on the cluttered sofa. Douglas moved a stack of
books aside to make room for her, then handed her the brandy
glass. Pouring a second glass for himself, he stood in a doorway
sipping it. He looked at her earnestly.

"I really wish I could do something to just make this whole thing
go away."

"Doug, it ..." She set the glass down and went to him,
placed her hands on his shoulders, and for a wistful moment, ran
the palm of her hand up and down one of the lapels of his jacket.
"I wish it could have been different. I wish a lot of things were
different."

The moment lingered, longer than it should have, so that when he
leaned down and kissed her lips it didn't seem strange. It was an
impulsive move -- one that he would never have dared just moments
before. Kay put her hands behind his head and leaned into the
embrace, pulling him closer.

Doug broke away from her, staring at the floor, suddenly abashed,
his face flushed. Her arms were still around him. She felt him
tremble slightly. "I can't do this ..." he said softly. "I'm
sorry."

Instead of releasing him, she let her hands travel behind his
shoulders, kissed his cheek and pressed her forehead against his.
"It's my fault," she whispered. "I've been wanting to do this
since I saw the look on your face this morning."

Doug set his drink down. In the silence of the apartment, they
wrapped each other in a slow embrace. She stifled a quiet sob
against the side of his neck, and then felt him gather her close.
There was a moment of silent mutual comforting. What happened
next seemed to flow out of both of them at the same time, as if
they had suddenly fallen into synch with each other's unspoken
thoughts. Her slim hands fell to loosening his tie at the same
moment that his fingers began slowly and meticulously opening the
buttons down the front of her blouse. The clothing fell away from
both of them, along with the layers of professional detachment --
her heavy woolen blouse and skirt crumpling into heaps on the
floor next to his shirt and trousers. She kissed him again,
gently removed his glasses and laid them on a nearby table next
to the half-drained brandy glass, then ran her fingers through
his graying hair, freeing it from the severely combed-back style
until it almost looked soft around his weathered and angular
features. He was much more attractive this way, she thought.
Those eyes ... *bedroom eyes,* said a small voice in the back
of her mind.

"You can't possibly want--" he whispered.

"Yes I do. I have for a long time," she said. Then she kissed
him, pressing the length of her half-clothed body against his, so
that her soft, small breasts were crushed against his chest. A
subtle movement of his hands brushed the thin straps of her slip
from her shoulders, and the plain sheath of silk fell away,
disclosing her body.

They had managed to stumble into the bedroom in the interval, and
Doug's hands moved carefully, reverently, over her bare shoulders
as he looked at her. She held a finger over his lips, and there
were no words as he pressed her down on the mattress and began to
kiss her again.

Her hands traveled down his naked, vulnerable body, which was no
longer young, but somehow the more interesting for that fact. Kay
moved her hips, rubbing herself against him until she heard
Douglas moan in frustration. Her own lack of shyness surprised
her, for she guided his hands over her own body, encouraging his
hesitant but increasingly eager touch. When her hand sought the
erection between his thighs, it seemed an easy and natural
gesture.

She kissed him and opened herself at last, easing him gently into
her. Doug's hips thrust firmly, and she twisted on the bed as he
filled her. Kay's soft little cry of pleasure echoed into the
stillness. Then the only sounds within the tiny rooms were
whispers and gasps and the rustle of sheets, mingled with the
inarticulate little cries of pleasure and astonishment of those
who have not made love in a very long time.

~~~

Later, Kay allowed herself to gaze at Douglas's sleeping
features. The contours of his face were softer in sleep. Kay
stroked his cheek with the back of her hand.

"Doug," she murmured, "Why did you start writing?"

"Hmmm?" he mumbled, coming awake slowly.

"I said, why did you start writing?"

"I don't remember. Escapism, I suppose."

"From reality, you mean?"

"I suppose."

"What made you like my writing?"

"The flawless grammar."

She moved, straddling his narrow hips and leaning down to him.
"No, I mean really."

"Because I knew it would lead to this," he sighed.

"Tell me ..." she whispered, a wicked gleam coming into her eyes.
She kissed him with maddening sensuousness, letting her tongue
slip gently past his lips to make a thorough exploration of his
mouth. She immediately felt the rest of his body react to the
tease. Despite his fatigue from their first encounter, he revived
quickly. She slid slowly down onto him, and was rewarded by a
soft groan. She controlled the pace now, moving her hips with
maddening slowness. His gasps became more audible after a time.
There was something endearing about his sudden helplessness, and
she began to kiss his neck as her hips continued in their
deliberate rhythm. She watched his need and passion intensify as
she moved over his body, until at last he strained against her.
Doug's climax, when it came, sounded like a drawn-out cry of
pain. But Kay recognized prolonged sexual pleasure when she saw
it, and was glad she could give him this, at least.

He drew her down to him and kissed her, passionately, gratefully.
No one who knew Douglas as the editor of Incredible Tales would
ever have guessed what a wonderful kisser he was.

"We should have done this long ago," she whispered.

Kay allowed her fingers to interlace with his. She did it
meditatively, watching as their two hands joined each other. "I
think that shapeshifter has a thing for Major Kira," she said
cryptically.

"What?" Douglas looked puzzled.

"In Benny's story -- you know."

Recognition dawned on his face. Douglas appeared to think the
statement over. "Odo didn't strike me as the romantic type," he
said at last.

"I think he just needs some coaching."

"Hmmm ... well maybe ..." Douglas allowed.

"So why *did* you start writing?" Kay asked again. "You
told me once, years ago."

He smiled. "Ah, back when I was posing as a literary sage. I
believe my answer was something along the lines of: writing
allows you to change the universe, even if only on paper.
Satisfied?"

"Satisfied?" she teased.

His lips twisted into an ironic smile. "Perhaps I should rephrase
that."

"No need. I'm very satisfied right now," said Kay, grinning
lecherously.

Douglas raised an eyebrow. "With me or with my answer?"

Kay looked down into her lover's eyes. "Both," she said.

The End?