Epilogue

Eris paced the observation room impatiently, glancing every so often at the procedure playing out beyond the window. She'd been present for activations before, but they'd never seemed to take this long. The operation table was shielded from her view, but eventually, she noticed a shadow was being cast on the wall by someone sitting up on it. More time passed, and then one of the scientists opened the door to the observation room and asked, "Would you like to see him?"

"He's ready so soon?"

The scientist smiled very slightly. "I've activated Weyoun clones before. They're always very quick to remember everything. A resilient line, if I may say so."

Eris nodded and stepped into the small room used for clone activation. At the sound of her footfalls, the Vorta on the operating table turned his head and fixed his eyes on her face. "Eris," he greeted.

"Weyoun," she returned, slowly approaching him.

He glanced down at himself, taking note of the shapeless grey smock he was covered in, and then offered her a tiny smile. "I apologize that you must see me in such a disheveled state."

"Oh, nonsense," Eris replied, her face expressionless. "That shade of grey is quite becoming on you."

His eyes held amusement as he said, "Try not to flatter me too outrageously, Eris. You know I can tell when you're lying." Weyoun held out his hand to her, and she moved closer, taking it gently. For a moment, he studied their entwined fingers, and then remarked thoughtfully, "I've been told that it's been seven months since my predecessor died."

"Correct."

"I assume you'll tell me what I missed?"

She nodded. "All in good time. Can you stand?"

Weyoun flexed his bare feet and swung his legs a little, shrugged, and then slid off the table. Eris put a hand lightly on his arm in case he needed steadying, and even though it quickly became apparent that he didn't, she maintained the contact.

"Cold floor," he said with a slight grimace.

At that, Eris laughed. "I'd think you would remember that after all the clones you've gone through."

"Oh, do I detect a note of superiority in that tone? I suppose it's because you're only on your fourth? Typical."

"Well, you are rather careless."

"Careless is such a harsh word," he commented, one eyebrow quirked. "What about…daring?"

"Careless."

"Daring."

"Careless. And much more childish than I remember."

He chuckled and carefully pulled her into an embrace, wobbling slightly but staying upright. "I apologize for getting myself killed. How's that as a testament to my maturity?"

Eris smiled and leaned her head against his, cheek to cheek. "You're forgiven. I'm glad you're back."

His eyes gleamed as he considered his new life--his ninth. Nine was a good number. Hopefully he'd get to enjoy it for a long, long time. "You know," Weyoun said, "so am I."