A/N: I wasn't quite sure where I was going with this, so I guess this is the product of spontaneous writing :P
The plot line with Kilana was mentioned in the DS9 novel trilogy 'Millennium', I think.
Disclaimer: I cannot remember if I have done a disclaimer or not, so here it is: Star Trek is not mine, neither are Weyoun and Damar, sadly :P
Weyoun wondered if he was doing the right thing. He had not asked the Founder; had not confronted her. But, as he found him asking himself recently, did he even have to tell her? Would she want to know of all his exploits? After all, he was only her adjutant. She was a God; the leader of a brilliant, illustrious cause: the Dominion. Weyoun loved the Dominion more than anything. More than rippleberries, more than kava nuts, and even more than spiting Damar.
He frowned. The Founder obviously had much more important things to do; obviously had prior commitments, and had no time to worry about Weyoun's simple issues. He was only a Vorta. High up in the chain of command, but not exactly possessing massive influence.
He shook his head, as if doing that simple action could clear his head. He decided to retire to his quarters. Once there, he sat down delicately on the couch and looked around the room. Nothing caught his eye. He had already stared out every object of even slight interest in his personal quarters. The Vorta were curious, and Weyoun was very curious, but his mind was too preoccupied to find itself successfully comforted with such trivial things.
Overall, Weyoun was confused. He had never been quite so confused, he didn't think. Of course, he had been perplexed, like when the plan to have Dominion ships come in to the Alpha Quadrant via the wormhole didn't exactly go to plan. He had felt suspicion, well, he still was feeling suspicion, thanks to Damar's conspicuous activities which Weyoun did actually know about.
Rarely, Weyoun had been subjected to bewilderment. He was only a short individual. Thus, many people, both enemies and allies, stood taller than him. That did somewhat... unnerve him. He hadn't been scared as such, but he did have the unpleasant sense of belittlement.
Those emotions, all different sections, different segments of confusion, did not match what he was feeling now.
He sighed, again looked about the room, closed his eyes. The air stilled, but confusion continued to battle with him. It was a sense of alarm, he decided, but only with partial belief.
Opening his purple eyes, he got to his feet and walked around. After a while of pacing, he found the mirror. He looked into it and felt... different when he saw his reflection. Not massively different, but different nonetheless.
He caught sight of his clothes and studied them closely, curiously for some time. His eyebrows drew together in confusion as he plucked inquisitively at the multicoloured patchwork material. With that attraction ceasing to amuse him, he brought his hands up to his head and ran his white fingers through his hair. It was rather thick and impossibly dark, he noticed. But, it wasn't the attributes of his hair that retaining his attention for the longest; it was his eyes.
It was then that he remembered what that Dabo girl had said to him. She had said something about his eyes. Weyoun leant in closer toward the mirror and focused more intently at the reflection of his eyes. Bright, deep purple. No other species - at least that he had met - had eyes like that.
It was times like this that he would curse - to his complete shame - how the Vorta were unable to assess and appreciate aesthetics. Sure, not having the burden of worrying what one looked like and how one would look to other people, had many, many advantages. However, there were downsides, as there so often would be. It made life simpler, and Weyoun knew that. He understood that. The Founders were all-knowing. They had only endowed his people with the most important skills. And, realising true beauty was - for all it merits for both parties - unnecessary in a diplomat. He would never doubt a Founder. Certainly not. Yet, Weyoun did want to experience deeper emotions. Not just suspicion, contempt, annoyance, reverence, power...
Seeing those feminine clothes strewn across the floor of Damar's less than clean quarters at the Headquarters had ignited some sort of spark in the Vorta's head. Some undiscovered spark. Damar had 'lady-friends', as did Dukat. Weyoun, though he did loathe the Cardassians for their carnal ways, did understand the need for companionship. Placing Worf and Ezri in the same cell had been done double reasons. Weyoun had done it, on the one hand, to observe interspecies mating rituals. They had always interested him. However, as he looked back in hindsight, he realised that there was possibly another reason.
Weyoun was not sure about how to proceed with his issue. He left the mirror, and sat back down, literally twiddling his thumbs. A part of him wanted the Founder to call on him; perhaps her gracious presence would manage to set his mind on other things. That was only a small part, though. He wanted to be left alone, but only for a short while, to think. He had done his thinking. Or so he thought.
As Weyoun delved deeper into his mind for recollections on such things: matters of love and companionship and so forth, he found that he was very inexperienced. His second clone did have a relationship with one of Kilana's clones. He didn't know which, and he doubted that he cared. He was only young then. Young and naive. He was sure the relationship was romantic, but the part of his brain that controlled such things was growing stale. In six lifetimes, he had not so much as kissed someone, unless one counted the kiss he had gotten from the Dabo girl a year or two ago.
The other ideas and advice, if it could be called that, were basically made up of the tales Dukat would tell him of his exploits. Well, more like debaucheries. Weyoun shook his head. Dukat was too involved in such things.
Weyoun wondered again. He wondered how to proceed. Of course, he could easily find a female and experiment from then on, but he knew that was against some sort of 'code' and he was in Dominion HQ on Cardassia. Cardassian females were renowned for their aggressiveness, and Weyoun doubted he would be able to endure such things, and that would be even if he could secure one to mate with in the first place. Besides, that Dabo girl that had caught his eye; that had kissed him so sweetly, was not on Cardassia anyway. She would have been on Deep Space Nine, but Weyoun presumed that the safety-conscious Federation would have ordered all civilians to leave the station. Weyoun didn't even know her name. He figured he could probably hack into Deep Space Nine's computer systems and find the staff files for Quark's bar. He would keep that in mind for later. Again, using Cardassian computers to hack Cardassian computers... that did not entirely appeal to him.
The sun of Cardassia was beginning to wane, its poor, orange light fading over the smoky horizon. Weyoun walked to the window of the compound and saw what he always saw those days: the sharply designed, jutting, curved tendrils of Cardassian architecture reaching out to the sky. He abandoned the window and decided to go to bed.
The Female Founder was likely too preoccupied with the illness plighting her race to ask for his help in the near future. Just in case she would call, Weyoun kept the secure commlink between himself and her open at all times; it was imperative at times of dire importance such as this.
That brought another thought to mind as he got ready to sleep. The Female Founder had ordered dozens - if not, hundreds - of loyal Vorta subordinates to death. He had assured he that. He has selected only the best - she was a God, after all - Vorta scientists to search for a cure for the disease in the Great Link, but the Founder had simply ordered that they report their findings and then die. Such an unjust death that would be, Weyoun thought. Their clones would replace them, but it did not make such a happening all right.
He hated to even have such ideas cross his mind, but they did. He didn't want to doubt the Founder, but he wondered if maybe the illness was making her weak. Weak in mind and in judgment. Weyoun shook his head, thoroughly annoyed and even sort of disgusted with himself for having doubted a God's ability.
Whenever one of his own clones died or was killed or deactivated, Weyoun felt something. When Weyoun Six had died a 'traitor', Weyoun Seven did, in a strange sort of way, feel a sense of loss. It was like he was losing a part of himself. And, he wondered exactly how much more of himself he would be willing to lose.