Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

She couldn’t quite remember when she’d first come to realize it, other than that she was far too young for it, but her mother hated her.

While her father had always been there when Amy needed him, her mother was distant, cold, and standoffish. She often snapped easily, taking the frustration out on her through mostly verbal means, leaving Amy’s father, Taggert, to comfort her in the aftermath.

But Amy, being so young and stubborn to change that, had made attempt after attempt to win her mother’s approval and love. Doing everything in her power to make herself more ‘normal’, or ‘better’ so to speak. But her mother always managed to find some little fault, a crack in her, a flaw.

You’re too sensitive, had been her go-to. And maybe she was. Maybe she did need to grow thicker skin and suck it up. Her father had been adamant she didn’t, that her sensitivity was a perfectly normal part of her. But the more Amy looked at it, she found herself agreeing more with her mother than her father.

She could lose control over the smallest things. Something was too bright, or loud, or scratchy, or just that it was downright uncomfortable. She soon learned that these episodes of extreme emotional reaction to such forms of discomfort were called ‘meltdowns’. And she quickly got to figure out ways to deal with them; comfortable clothes made of fabrics she could tolerate, listening to music or noise, little fidgets made of knickknacks she found on walks or that her father got her. 

Why can’t you be like your brother? was the second. Her brother Leo had joined Starfleet when Amy was seven, excelling in science and medicine. Amy always heard about the great things he did from their mother and it made her push harder, doubling down on herself. Things due in a week were done the same day and turned in the next, she’d stay up late until her father forced her to go to sleep working on homework. Often skipping meals to do so.

She needed to lose weight anyway.

Science and math had been her weakest points, so having a sibling who excelled in the subjects helped her along with fixing that.

No one wants to hear about that, had been her third. All she had wanted to do was share the thing she’d learned about or that she was interested in or show off something neat she’d found. And then it would loop back to her emotional sensitivity. 

Don’t mope, suck it up, you should’ve seen it coming.

She’d always call up Leo to talk about it afterward. And he would always pick up. Leo and Taggert where always there for her. 

The weirdest one by a long shot though had been around her teeth, specifically her outré canines.

They bend the wrong way.

They’re too sharp.

They don’t even look human.

So she found ways to keep them hidden. Her smile became smaller and less frequent. She’d keep her mouth small when she talked. Kept a hand over her mouth when she laughed. Anything to keep them hidden.

A couple of peers at school had ended up jokingly asking if she was ‘part Ferengi or something’ once when she slipped up in covering. Although that more or less unintentionally led her to discovering a new comfort food than make her feel more insecure. 

“Tube grubs?” 

“Please, dad! It’ll just be once.”

He quickly caved and managed to find some with Leo’s help. Everyone at school said they’d probably tasted terrible, like mud or a swamp full of chemicals, but that hadn’t deterred her. Leo managed to find a couple of different kinds and lo n behold, a new comfort was found in the taste of salty mac and cheese in the form of said grubs.

But even then, her insecurities about her teeth and smile prevailed when school photos came out. Her father and brother assured her there was nothing wrong with it, but she fervently disagreed. Any time she’d smile, her eyes would go all squinty and she felt she looked like a ‘blobfish out of its natural environment’. 

“Amy, you don’t look like a bloated fish corpse when you smile, you just look happy.” Her father had said. 

She still didn’t believe him.

And things didn’t get any better from there, as she soon found herself in a counselor's office after a hospital visit for a near concussion incident. 

Before the incident, she had been a rather… pudgy child. 

‘Lack of blood sugar’, they’d said. 

‘Bullshit’. She’d thought.

And so, there she was in the office, curled up on the right end of the couch, eyes glazed over and red, wrapped in dark circles, hugging her legs to her chest; and terrified. So fucking terrified.

You live in paradise, there should be no reason for this.

The counselor got to hear everything, and so did her father on the drive home. And for the longest time, she couldn’t stop crying. Her father reassured her, helped her through it, and did everything in his power to make her feel even the tiniest bit better.

Her mother was, as always, little help. “At least you’re not like your aunt.” She’d said over dinner four months later. 

Her aunt was a larger woman, with a warm smile and sweet-hearted disposition. Amy’s uncle often called her ‘Hyena’ for her laugh. Their Vulcan partner calling them both ‘k’diwa’. Her aunt was a fashion designer who lived over in Germany with Amy’s uncles, and Amy loved when they’d visit.

“Jessica!” Her father snapped. Amy couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her father angry, if ever.

“What? It’s true.”

“No, it is not,” Her father breathed in, turning to Amy gently. “Why don’t you take your dinner upstairs and eat it in the loft.” Amy nodded, went upstairs, and finished what she felt she could.

She could still hear them argue.

Sliding a hand up under her shirt, she flattened her hand against her rib cage. In four months she’d made little progress, but there was still a difference. Four months ago, her ribs would’ve been flush against her hand, now they were behind at least a couple of inches of skin. But they still poked through…

Progress is progress. No matter how slow. She told herself. In for five, out for five, dry, rinse, and repeat.

And she had made progress. Both in figuring herself out and healing the parts that had been broken. As a young girl, her clothes had been mostly dresses, now it was t-shirts, turtlenecks, and sweaters. She still had a couple of dresses, gifts from her aunt, but she rarely wore them. She wanted to, so badly, but every time she looked at them there was always something holding her back, telling her it would make her weak. So she’d just throw on a sweater and call it good instead.

Progress is progress.

But unfortunately, progress could be halted and it was. Three weeks after that and a couple dozen arguments between her parents later, her mother left. Left in a blaze of rage, verbal disparage, and hatred. But as thankful as Amy was that her mother was gone, a part of her mourned. 

Mourned all that could have been and at all that never was. 

The incident had caused so much turmoil, so much complication that she ended up curled in bed for most of the following days, in the dark of her room, filling the pages of her newest sketchbook with scribbles and masses of colors to try and get what was stuck inside out. 

Jessica’s family hadn’t been any help, throwing out accusations in the rare times their paths crossed. All they did was make things worse, made Amy blame herself, and made Taggert more befuddled.

For the first time in a while, he didn’t know what to do.

So for nearly a month that was how it was. Amy in her room, curled up in the dark, her father downstairs not knowing what to do to help her. She’d only ever leave her room to get something to eat or drink or some other basic necessity.

Then Leo dropped the name. ‘Deep Space Nine’, a station on the edge of the quadrant, orbiting the planet Bajor. Or more specifically next to the wormhole that had drawn so many so far out into the universe.

Amy couldn’t recall the last time she’d been off the planet. Let alone outside her home galaxy. The thought was enticing in a way she couldn’t put her finger on.

And soon enough, there she was. Living on the station at the edge of everything. 

The Promenade, despite the grey Cardassian architecture, was colorful as could be. People from dozens of different species walked the place, going about their business in peace. Her father had encouraged her to go down and spend the morning there while he was at work. 

Too much time cooped up in the quarters playing her Stratocaster and jazz bass, was his reasoning. Although in her opinion, you could never play enough of an instrument if you enjoyed it. Her father had countered by bringing up how she’d wanted to draw people more often, especially live subjects, and that this was the perfect opportunity to do just that.

“Dirty move dad.” She pointed out while gathering a bag of her latest sketchbook and pencils.
Her father had only shrugged as they walked out.

So, there she was, sitting on the mezzanine level of the Promenade, semi-leaned on the railing in front of her, sketchbook in her lap, scribbling away. Previously, she’d only done sketches of people with reference photos saved to a PADD to look back and forth at. Made things a little easier than drawing with live people. The reference images never moved, so there was that. The current subject was a Bajoran couple having lunch, joking and laughing softly. Amy had managed to get through the shading before they left arm in arm.

Leaning her head on the railing, she let off a dejected sigh. Relationships, such a fragile and lovely thing. As much as she fancied the idea of being in one, seeing her parent’s relationship had scared her off from trying to find one of her own.

Standing up, she slipped back to the quarters to get her mind away from things for a moment. The low vibrations playing off her bass as she strummed out the lines calmed her nerves, bringing her back up to her senses. 

We dance once more…

In five, out five.

I feel your hands are cold, Within your heart a story to be told…

And as the day progressed, the buzz of the Promenade grew quieter. But nothing seemed to help quiet the buzz in Taggerts’ mind. It seemed that nothing could get Amy to leave the quarters. Washing the wet dough from his hands and dusting the flour off as best he could, he found himself walking along the mezzanine level. 

There had to be something he could do to get her out. He’d remembered that the bakery was short staffed as it was new to the Promenade, and Amy was just as proficient with baking as her art. And hadn’t Leo mentioned that there was a school around? Maybe he could sign her up for that, and get her around other kids her age again.

Seeing what must have been the latest school day get out, he moved to catch the teacher to ask about it. 

Back at the quarters, Amy was trying to work out something to keep herself busy. A couple of old movies kept her sated for about five hours but had little effect. So she turned to finish the sketches she’d started in the Promenade. Her father getting back around what must’ve been eight.

“Where were you?” He asked softly.

“Got overwhelmed.” Amy fibbed, eyes not leaving the page in front of her.

“Well, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

She nodded, motioning for him to continue.

“I signed you up for the school.”

Her head whipped up. “Dad-!”

“You can’t keep yourself cooped up in here forever, you know that.”

“I know, I know. And I don’t want to, but you know how difficult it is for me to just talk to people.”

“Exactly my point, there are only two other kids on the station around your age, so they’re bound to talk to you.”

“Yeah and one of them is the station commander's son! As if he’d actually have reason to talk to me.”

“You act like he’s the king's son and you’re just a peasant by comparison.”

“Well all things considered, that may as well be it,” Amy stated, outright dejectedly.

“Just go for a day, try it out and we can go from there.”

Amy sighed but nodded in agreement. “Okay, I’ll give it a go.”

“That’s the spirit.” Her father chimed, ruffling her hair, to Amy’s annoyance as she ruffled it back to normal.

The next morning, she found herself sitting patiently at the back of the empty classroom. The teacher, Mrs, O’Brien, was there but Amy didn’t have the guts to make conversation with her. Footsteps and light chatter brought her out of her head to find two boys walking in with who must’ve been their father’s.

The station commander and a likely middle aged Ferengi.

Both boys sat on opposite ends of the front row, but once their fathers were gone, moved to sit next to each other two seats into the front row, chatting in low tones. She studied the boys and couldn't help but feel a little jealous of their friendship. The only time she remembered a teacher having to separate her and a friend was in kindergarten.

“Amelia, how about you move down to sit with Jake and Nog.” Mrs. O’Brien remarked. She could feel herself freeze up. The boys both turned to look at her.

Five in, five out. Remember to breathe.

Chapter Text

Her head felt like it was full of water. Too heavy for her shoulders as she held eye contact with the boys.

“Amelia?”

Mrs. O’Brien’s voice pulled her back out. Looking to the boys for some sort of approval, Jake motioned for her to come over with a small smile. Her nerves eased as she moved down to join them.

“So, are you new?”

Amy nodded.

“How long have you been here?”

“About a week.”

“Where’d you move here from?”

“New England.”

“Coastal or Inland?”

“Coastal. I grew up in the Midcoast.”

They both fell silent. She hadn’t over shared had she? The sudden influx of the other students and Mrs. O’Brien trying to get everyone to settle made her forget the conversation had happened. 

As the school day progressed, Mrs. O’Brien caught Amy up, and things seemed to be going well. School wasn’t terrible as she expected, but also not the best (mainly because of math which was never her strong suit) but also not the worst.

Maybe her father was right, maybe this would be a good thing for her…

And for a moment, it felt as though the day had ended as soon as it had started. Mrs. O’Brien lets the kids run out to meet their waiting parents or meander around the Promenade. 

Amy finds herself at her father's bakery for the larger part of the afternoon. And Taggert doesn’t mind, letting her talk to him about the school day. 

“Sounds like you like it.” He notes halfway through.

“You just want to say ‘I told you so’ don’t you?” She points out.

And her father gets that look on his face when things have gone to plan. “Well am I?” 

Amy sighed jokingly. “Yeah, you were right.”

Reaching over the countertop, she fist-bumps him in a small celebration. 

“And let me guess? The commander's son wasn’t as standoffish as you thought he’d be.”

“No, he wasn’t actually.”

“See? Everything’s going fine!”

Amy moves to say something in retort but is stopped when she sees the boys coming in.

“Hey, we’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“What-“

“Jake has,” And his voice quickly drops a couple of octaves, as if divulging some horrible secret. “He probably has a crush on you.”

Amy scoffs, half laughing at the insinuation.

“Nog-“

Amy swiftly stops them both. “Wait a minute, what is it that you needed me for that constituted looking ‘everywhere’ for me?” 

“Well, we were gonna ask you if you wanted to hang out-“

“Jake was-“ A sharp jab to the side. “Hey!”

“Nog-“

As the two boys bickered, Amy turned back to nonverbally ask her father something. He seemed to catch on.

“It’s fine, you three go have fun,” Stretching his head up, he continues towards the boys. “Anything to get her out and about.”

“Dad!” Amy chirps back indignantly. 

“Shoo, go do stuff! And Amy!” Pausing in the doorway, she turns back to him. “Don’t be back after midnight, okay?”

“Got it!” And she finishes shooing the three of them out onto the Promenade.

At that point in the day, the place was bustling with chatter and people. The three ended up on the third floor of the local drinking and gambling establishment. Owned and run by Nog’s uncle Quark.

From there, they watched as people gambled and drank. The station security officer, a shapeshifter, came in at one point to talk to Quark about something.

Nog filled in the gaps about how long the two had known each other, noting that the dynamic bordered on married. Or at least by Cardassian standards it did.

And looking at the air of tension between the two, she could agree that there was some unspoken tension between the two that both were likely too stubborn and hard-headed to admit to.

Slowly but surely, the Dabo wheel seemed to empty and the people working it went to attend to other business. 

“Think we should give it another shot?” Nog suddenly speaks up.

“Nog…” 

“Give what another shot?”

“You hu-mons have no sense of adventure, c’mon!”

Sharing a look, Amy and Jake relent to follow. Crawling into the tube, Amy pulls the lid back into place to not leave a trace before following the boys.

“So are either of you gonna tell me where it is we’re going?” They suddenly pause over another lid. 

“The sack near the Dabo wheel.” From Nog and “Steal” from Jake were her only explanations.

“And how exactly are we going to get down there?”

“Yeah Nog, they haven’t installed ladders yet, and that's a twelve-foot drop.”

“I’ll go first,” Amy states suddenly, moving into position in the vertical tube. 

“Your sure?” Jake asks, sounding nervous.

“It could be dangerous.” Nog adds, almost sounding like he was trying to deter her from doing so. 

“I don’t see either of you in here.” They both look at each other.

“And you two barely know me, so what’s the big problem?” She pokes. 

“Well if you are, why are you stalling?”

Rolling her eyes, Amy moves to scoot down. Slowly but surprisingly steadily, she gets about halfway down the vertical tunnel to the first floor. She’d be fine.

But the universe had a sick sense of humor when it came to reminding people not to get cocky.

Feeling the friction slip, her arms shoot out to the walls and she pushes herself further against the wall, terror burns down her spine as her breathing fastens into short and sharp huffs. A small terrified squeak ripped out of her throat. 

Five in, Five out, Five in, Five out, Five in-

Her brain is panicked, trying to breathe and keep herself from falling at the same time.

Jake calls down. “You okay?” He sounds audibly worried.

“Just swell.” She grits back, feeling her muscles strain to keep her from falling and her heart race from the sudden rush of fearful adrenaline.

“You know you can turn back, right?” Nog asks, an edge on his voice like he’s worried as well, but trying to hide it behind a veneer of half-assed sarcasm.

“I’m already halfway down, I don’t see how either of you are gonna pull me back up,” Amy's voice drops down, hissing under her breath. “Especially you.”

“I heard that!” Nog declared, sounding miffed.

Grumbling to herself, she continues down. “Course you fucking did.”

Back up top, the boys wait on her to get to the bottom and say it’s okay.  Unfortunately, Jake doesn’t seem to have enough patience to wait. “That’s it.”

“Where are you going?”

“We can’t just leave her down there.”

“You're insane.” Nog comments.

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t!” They hear Amy call up. “And you’re not exactly leaving me down here!”

Jake ignores her and begins to slide down the chasm, and after a few moments of mental back and forth, Nog follows as well. Amy quickly decides to take the plunge first, letting the friction against the walls go and free-falling down to land in a crouch, her bag half hitting the ground as she’d fastened it taught around her torso. The boys follow her down in a similar fashion when she disappears further into the horizontal passage.

Pausing halfway through to the grate near the Dabo wheel, she can hear the boys bickering behind her.

“Still can’t believe you let her come with us.”

“You didn’t say anything-“

“But how do we know if we can trust her?!”

“And why exactly is that?” Amy spoke up.

“My uncle says you shouldn’t trust females who take an interest in profit.”

Oh, she was not letting that slide.

“And your uncle is hooking up with the shape-shifting station security officer, your point being?” She snarked. Jake’s eyes widened in surprise and Nog’s narrowed into a glare.

“Females and finances-“

Jake quickly interrupted. “Well we’re already here, so she’s coming with us, alright?” Continuing while turning Nog towards himself. “And she’s got something we can carry it in.”

As Jake continued down the tunnel, Amy shot a cheeky glare at Nog, who gave her a half-hearted snarl. Getting to the end of it, Jake moved Amy and himself aside to let Nog work the grate open. There weren’t too many people at the wheel, so most of the workers were off somewhere else. 

Not paying any attention to the latinum they claimed to so closely covet.

Looking out, Amy caught her first sight of this supposed sack. It really was just a sack; brown and made of some sort of rough fabric with a drawstring poking out every couple of inches at the top. Hearing it scrape on the ground, she guessed it was at that point equivalent to twice her and Nog’s weights.

And it was obvious he was struggling with it.  

She had to stifle a snicker when he tried to pick it up and ended up falling flat on his back, spouting out curses in what she assumed to be in Ferengi. She quickly silenced him by covering his mouth with her hand when a patron walked nearby, not paying any mind to the kids.

After the person left their sight, Amy felt her hand met by something wet and slippery. “Gross.” She sighed, wiping the saliva on her palm off on his face, earning some disgruntled grumbling in response.

Seeing one of the Ferengi bartenders moving towards them, Amy grabbed the open end of the sack and Nog’s shirt to haul them both back into the tunnel and shove the grate back into place. Evaluating their current conundrum, Amy unfastened her bag opened and held it there.

Their voices all dropped into hushed tones to keep the attention away from themselves.

“Let's just shove it in my bag and go.”

“And why should I trust you?”

“Because I’m the only one who can carry it, knucklehead, now let’s go.”

Jake chimed in. “Nog, just listen to her.”

Jake shot him a look and Nog begrudgingly agreed. Holding her bag open, the three manage to get the sack shoved into it. Sliding the strap over her shoulder as she refastened it, Amy felt it weighing her down, spitefully tightening the strap closer to her, almost choking her as though she was in a headlock. But the sound of the metals clicking and nearly downright slamming together seem to draw the attention of two Ferengi workers; both the bartender they’d seen and Nog’s father.

The former started towards them. “Hey-”

The signal was silent but they all understood.

Haul. Fucking. Ass.

Scrambling back into the tunnel, they hurriedly make their way… somewhere. And while Amy managed with the sack of gold-pressed latinum in her messenger bag (mostly by pure rage-full determination and a burning need to spite the little bastard coming up shortly behind her) she could safely say that pulling an AC unit bigger than her and three times her weight up into a window by its cord all by herself at the age of nine had been substantially less difficult.

Once they felt safe they stopped moving.

“Odo’s gonna kill us.” Jake hissed.

“If Broik or my father doesn’t find us first.”

Amy could feel the thin sheet of perspiration forming on her face from the heat of the tunnel.

“Did it just-”

’They’re trying to smoke us out.’ She thought. Tightening her overwhelming heavy bag around her shoulders, Amy makes her decision. “Not if I can help it, come on.”

Moving back to where they’d entered the tunnel, the boys followed in tow. Hearing people clambering around, the three all separately assessed the situation.

“We’re gonna have to make a run for it.” Amy stated plainly.

Nog looks back over his shoulder to Jake. “She’s insane.”

And Jake hisses back,“Nog-!”

Ignoring the comment, Amy glanced around one last time, slipped out through the opened grate, and jumped up. The boys had no choice but to follow her. 

Briskly walking out, Amy kept her head on a swivel, trying to at least look curious to the yelling behind them, but not conspicuous. The second they heard people coming after them, they all sprinted down the Promenade to the closest turbolift, barely making it on time.

Amy’s voice rang out a single command to the computer. “Habitat Ring!”

Feeling the lift start moving, Amy wiped the sweat from her forehead and the three collapsed, trying to catch their breath. But after a second, Amy found her attempts to breathe quickly turning into boisterous laughter. The laughter quickly caught onto the boys.

Hysteria swiftly set in.

Sprinting off the lift when it stops, they end up jogging the rest of the way back to Amy’s quarters, chirping and cackling to themselves, about how they’d pulled it off and how the bar workers should’ve seen their faces when they realized they’d been robbed blind by teenagers. 

Finally getting back to Amy’s quarters, they made a b-line for her room. While the boys emptied the sack of latinum onto her bed, Amy flopped into the office chair at her desk. 

They’d done it.