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Story Notes: This is going to be a *...no it would be a spoiler * story

Chapter Notes: This will go on, if there is enough review.

Header :
Title : What you leave behind
Fandom : Star Trek eep Space Nine
Rating : Nc-17
Genre : romance, pwp, tragedy, espionage
Pairing : Weyoun/Oc
Disclaimer : Star Trek Deep Space Nine belongs to Paramount Pictures, I don't make money with it.
Beta: Di_glossia,Thanks !

Summary : Veronica Fairchild (OC) had been taken hostage by the Dominion and is forced by ambassador Weyoun to become his "comfort woman".

What You Leave Behind

Two Jem'hadar soldiers escorted Veronica Fairchild into their superior's office.
The federation ship "U.S.S Stockholm" had been attacked by Dominion ships, and she had been rescued from her escape pod by the Dominion ship she was aboard now. She was shaking with fear. They would probably kill her or send her to a work camp somewhere within the Dominion space.

Behind the console stood a pale, blue eyed alien that she recognized as a Vorta. Although she'd never met one before, she knew the description of their features from the officers who had.

"Please, sit down," said the Vorta in a friendly voice as if he had invited her for dinner. "My name is Weyoun. And you are?"
She slowly took a seat in front of him.
"Oh my God, will you torture me? Please, don't do that; I can't tell you anything, because I don't know anything important." Her voice trembled, tears glittering in her dark eyes. She was close to panicking.
Weyoun was confused for a moment. This was rather unusual behavior for a Starfleet officer; at least, it would be for those he had met so far. But this woman looked too young to be an officer; was she a cadet?
"There is no need to be afraid. I won't torture you. I am afraid the propaganda must have given you the wrong idea of the Dominion. We are not cruel or barbarians, although people might have made us look that way." He spoke in his most soothing intonation, as he would if he were speaking to a small child. "I still don't know your name."
"Veronica, Veronica Fairchild…" she sobbed.
"Veronica, may I call you Veronica?" he asked in a soft voice.
She nodded.

"I can't address you in the appropriate way without knowing your rank which I can't deduce from your civil dress."
"I don't have any rank. Not everybody who is aboard a starship is a Starfleet officer. Unlike my parents, I'm going to be a dancer. I have a scholarship to the Bajoran Ballet Academy on Bajor. Until then, I'll be working as a Dabo-girl at Quark's on Deep Space Nine. I was visiting my parents aboard the U.S.S Stockholm before the ship was attacked. They were officers aboard that ship. Do you know what happened to them?"

"I am vaguely familiar with Quark's on Deep Space Nine." He shrugged and gave her a warm and lightly amused smile. She was right, as a Dabo-girl she wouldn't have any useful information about fleet positions or strategies. But she also seemed to be a quite simple person, who could be easily manipulated. There was still enough time left to send her to a labor camp. She might also make a good hostage.
Weyoun looked at one of the Jem'hadar standing guard at the door. "Please bring us some tea and pastries," he ordered. The soldier nodded and left the room. He could easily poison her with it, due to his immunity to most toxic substances.
Weyoun seemed to be a rather unexpected, friendly person, and she started to like him for it.

"Well, tell me a little about yourself. I'm curious." He tried to sound as casual as possible to make it less of an interrogation. Her parents might have had access to the kind of information he was interested in. If he would proceed in a friendly manner, she might tell him anything he wanted to know and betray the Federation without even realizing it.

"My name is Veronica Fairchild. I'm eighteen years old, and I'm going to become a professional dancer. I also do gymnastics, fitness, aerobics and some other sports in my free time. I went to school on Deep Space Nine, where I used to live with my parents, before they were transferred to the U.S.S. Stockholm. I'm almost fluent in Bajoran, due to the time I spent in the Bajoran sector. Have a look at the dress I'm wearing: I designed it all by myself with only a little help from the Cardassian tailor on Deep Space Nine."
He had an intense look at her blue dress.
"Very nice, you are a very talented young woman." Weyoun, like all Vorta, had no sense of aesthetics, so she could have worn a potato bag and it would have looked like high fashion to him.
"Thank you. Your suite, or more precisely the colors in it, suit you, as a winter type, very well."

"I didn't know that I was a winter type. What exactly does that mean?" he said friendly, but confused.

"When it comes to fashion, people are divided into categories based on their eye, skin and hair color. You're a winter-type: black hair, almost snow white skin and icy blue eyes; therefore, you're supposed to wear black, white, all shades of blue or grey -blue, violet and pastel colors like pink. Garak, the Cardassian tailor on Deep Space Nine, told me all about it."

"Intriguing, I must say, although I'm afraid to disagree on the pink." He chuckled. Although he didn't know much about fashion, he knew that this was a color only suitable for women.
"Now, tell me something about yourself: who are you and what do you do in your free time?"
"As I have told you already, my name is Weyoun and I am a Vorta. I serve the Founders, like all members of my species. That is all you have to know about me." He smiled.
"But you ordered that soldier to do something, and you thought that I was with Starfleet. Are you a kind of officer in the Dominion fleet? What's your rank?"
Weyoun shook his head in amusement. "The Dominion does not work like that: there are the Founders, our noble leaders; the Vorta like myself; and the Jem'hadar, who do the more, let us say, rigorous work." This young woman wasn't supposed to know anything about him or any of the Dominion's affairs. Although, he had to admit that he found her interesting and enjoyed the "conversation".

The door opened and the Jem'hadar entered with a tray. He put it in on the consol in front of Weyoun and bowed. There were two cups, a tea pot and a small plate with biscuits. The Vorta filled the cups with tea and offered one to her.
"Thank you. You're a kind man with a name even more beautiful than you are kind. Is there a Mrs. Weyoun, who's lucky enough to have such a nice husband?" she flirted while twisting a strand of hair around her finger.

"Weyoun is a proper name, due to the Vorta having no families. We do not have family names." Against his will, he was flattered by her attention. This wasn't the way women usually reacted to him.
"What do you mean, you don't have a family?"
"I am a clone, like all Weyouns. We are genetically engineered, not born or raised like humans."
"That doesn't sound very desirable to me. You must be very lonely without a family or relatives." She reached out in order to touch his hand, but Weyoun quickly folded his arms to avoid it.
"My wellbeing should not be any of your concern." Again, that polite but this time cold smile.
Veronica took a sip of tea. This man had the rare talent of being warm and cold at the same time. Sure, he didn't want her to know anything personal about himself; she was a total stranger to him despite them having tea like old friends. But what could he want from her, if it wasn't her company? Or was it more than that?
"Then you aren't interested in sex, either. I mean as a clone?" she teased.
Weyoun swallowed, hard. This question confused him. The conversation was not proceeding the way he had planned.
"You are right; since Vorta do not procreate in a natural way, we do not have any need for sex."

"Is that supposed to mean you're a virgin?"
"According to the definition of "virgin", that would be a correct deduction. But this is not important for our conversation."
"You don't know what you're missing. But…" She smiled at him in a seductive way. "Do you want to try?" Veronica knew the effects her trained body had on men.
Weyoun wasn't sure what to do, but he remembered that Dukat always had had "comfort women" while being stationed on Terok Noir. He was a somewhat great leader himself, so he could use such a woman, too. She was his prisoner, after all. He could simply take her without asking for her permission, if that was his way, which surely was not.

Finally, he nodded. "Please follow me to my private quarters."
Veronica secretly smiled about her victory. Men were all the same: Ferengi, Bajorans, Cardassians, Vorta, in the end they all wanted the same thing, her body. She had learned a lot while being a Dabo-girl at Quark's.
She walked with Weyoun through the dark corridors of the Dominion ship, closely followed by the Jem'hadar escorting them. Weyoun suddenly stopped in front of a door.
"Jem'hadar, you guard the door, I do not want to be interrupted unless the Founder wishes to speak with me," he ordered. The soldier nodded in agreement and took his position in front of the door, while the couple entered.
Veronica had a quick look around: a desk with a computer terminal, some Pads on it, a bed. No unnecessary things at all, pure efficiency.
Weyoun sat down on the corner of the bed.
"You have beautiful long, black hair," he said, although he had no idea of beauty, but knew from watching a porn holosuit program how to flatter a human woman. "May I touch your perfect skin?"
Veronica sat down next to him. "Of course, you may."
He carefully reached out to touch her naked shoulder. She smiled: he was so cute and polite unlike the men at Quark'.
"Kiss me," she sighed and pulled him closer to her body. Weyoun was an exotic beauty with his thick dark hair and intense blue eyes; they even seemed to change color to a light lavender. When their lips touched, she could feel Weyoun shivering in her arms. Her hand slid down over his flat belly into his lap. There was no zipper under his tunic, so she tried to get her hand under the waistband, accidently rubbing Weyoun in the process. She could feel him panting when her hand finally reached its target.
Meanwhile, one of Weyoun's hands was in her hair and the other was carefully squeezing her breast. Suddenly, his body tensed in her arms, followed by Weyoun making an unarticulated sound, almost like groaning. When she looked into his eyes, they seemed deep blue, not lavender anymore.

He panted, but seemed confused. "Oh my…" he tried to catch his breath "I think, I…I…."
"You just came? Really? I mean, are you sure? You didn't…"
"Ejaculate?" he finished her sentence.
"Yes. You didn't. Believe me, I would have noticed."
"Like I told you before, Vorta are not supposed to have natural progeny, so we are cloned sterile."
"If this has never happened to you before; Does that mean that you never, well, tried it on your own?"
He seemed confused and shook his head. "Why would I do so?"
"Don't tell me you don't have a sex drive, either."
Weyoun nodded. "The Founder must have thought it an unnecessary distraction and removed it as well. But, can you do this again to me? What you just did?" He smiled that innocent smile again.

"I see. I can do even more." She pushed him on the bed and started to undress him. His eyes had turned to that mysterious lavender again. Veronica sat down on top of him, while Weyoun played with her now naked breasts. She could feel that he was close to another orgasm. This naughty Vorta just couldn't get enough. He rolled on top of her, pushing her hard into the bed. His mouth was all over her body, kissing, licking and sucking. Veronica had never had such a great lover before: wild and greedy but still tender. She almost screamed with joy when she had an overwhelming orgasm.
Weyoun was content. This woman didn't have information and was absolutely useless to the Dominion, but he couldn't get enough of her perfect body. He decided to keep her as his personal servant for very special services.

Some hours later, or at least it felt like that to Veronica, Weyoun locked her in and left. The Jem'hadar was still standing at his post, so she couldn't escape, but even if the door was wide open and without the Jem'hadar, she still needed a ship to get away. She snuck to Weyoun's desk and activated his computer. She entered a secret code in order to contact Slone from section thirty one by an encrypted channel. After a moment, the blonde man's face appeared on the screen.
"Agent Fairchild? I assume your mission to get close to Ambassador Weyoun has been successful."

"Affirmative, Agent Slone. He isn't suspicious of me, although he thought of killing me or using me as a hostage. I will stay close to him and report whenever I obtain important information," she whispered.

"I was worried about sending you on this mission after your parents died during the Dominion attack on your home planet, Betazed, but I think you have yourself and your feelings about it under control. Otherwise the Vorta would be dead, I assume."
Veronica nodded. "To him, I'm his prisoner, a simple minded Dabo girl from Quark's, who happened to survive a Dominion attack. I'll try to please my "savior" in order to win his trust. Computer, end connection."
Slone wasn't supposed to know about her true feelings for Weyoun. She couldn't blame him personally for the attack and the death of her parents anymore, not after looking into those lavender eyes.


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