It was coming up to a month since he'd been sentenced and contained within a solid humanoid form by his own people. Twenty six days had crept agonisingly past and each brought its own challenges. It had been a busy time on the station and it was clear to see that all those who passed through had their own concerns about the encroaching threat from the Gamma Quadrant. After the Defiant returned to Deep Space Nine, the operation to infiltrate Ty'Gokor had succeeded in revealing the Martok imposter and negotiations between the Federation and the Klingon Empire were set in motion. Nobody could ignore the shadow that hung over the station, clouding every action with suspicion and worry. It was a time of transition for all.

Odo had been thankful for the distractions that this change in atmosphere brought with it. But even his job was compromised by his new state of being in ways he had never previously considered. His old routine, the one that the shopkeepers on the promenade had been able to set their clocks by, had to be scrapped and planned to set aside time for him to sleep. This proved harder than he had envisioned. He would try to go to sleep in some allotted time that he had put aside only to stay up, unable to fall asleep, or he would exhaust himself, unable to interpret the signs his human body was sending him, and collapse without due warning. He had scared a fair few of his fellow officers that way. He couldn't help but think that despite the fact that he was now considered to be one of them, there were so many ways that showed he was still different.

As the Constable patrolled the upper level of the promenade, surveying his dominion and those who passed through it, he would often meet the eyes of his fellow solids and they would smile back and bid him a good day. When he had been a Changeling, he had frequently attempted to make such contact with anyone he has come across whilst on patrol. Every so often, his eyes would link with those of another, usually a young children, who would smile and wave at him. He would return the smile as best he could and nod his head in acknowledgement of their act of kindness. However, as soon as their brief interaction was noticed, the respective parent or guardian would pull them closer to them and whisper angrily in the young ones ear, warning them not to talk to the shifter. Now things were different. He was now considered to be one of them by many of those who frequented the station. He was a solid and a man who had lost so much doing what he believed to be right.

In moments of contemplation, Odo reasoned how it often felt as if only mere moments has passed since his transformation. He could still clearly see the concerned faces of Captain Sisko and Dr. Bashir staring down at him as he was washed ashore by a tide of his own people. Swept into a new way of living brought about by his own actions. Indeed, when he managed to grasp a few hours' sleep here and there, he would often relive the whole experience. Everything from beaming down to the planet to waking up in the infirmary back on the Defiant.

He had been told much of dreams by a variety of people he had met throughout his life amongst the solids. When he was a Changeling, he had not experienced dreaming and there was nothing comparable to sleeping or dreaming when he was regenerating. He had been told that they could be about anything. From the most mundane experience to the utterly fantastic. Indeed, he recalled some of the somewhat risqué dreams often discussed by Lieutenant Dax and Major Kira in the meeting room as the senior staff assembled for their morning briefing. But his own experiences so far had been far from positive and, in some instances, utterly terrifying. Sometimes he would fear going to sleep at the end of a long day in case a nightmare might rear its head. Once or twice he forwent sleep, choosing instead to patrol through the night. Constant vigilance was needed in this time of increasing Dominion threat. He would carry on as he used to only to exhaust himself. Once, he had fallen asleep at the bar in Quark's and when he woke up, he found that the Ferengi had been laying on bets with the customers about when he would wake up. It turned out that Morn had guessed closest. He certainly had a knack for that kind of thing.

In the first few days where he had managed to fall asleep in his new bed, he had subsequently overslept, sometimes by several hours. Realising his mistake, he had practically sprang out of bed, throwing on his Bajoran security uniform, personally tailored by Garak himself, and began the fruitless task of flattening his untamed hair before rushing to his office on the promenade. The third day he had only been late to the Security briefing with Major Kira by a few minutes. He had ran to his office only to see Kira sat waiting for him, her feet up on his desk, with a Raktajino in one hand and a smile emblazoned across her face. Odo had started to apologise profusely, still buttoning up his tunic and combing his hair back, all to no avail. Major Kira had, of course, been kind and understanding about the whole situation and continued to make allowances for him. Her quip about bed hair thankfully diffused the situation and they had rushed through their meeting in double quick time. Yet, despite Kira's understanding, he still found the whole experiencing of waking late most disorienting and often embarrassing. He was just waiting for the day that Quark would start running bets on that too. It was only a matter of time.