The BLTS Archive - Par'machkai
by Rosie Cotton (rosie_cotton@hotmail.com)

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Published: 12-16-04

Updated: 12-16-04

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Disclaimer: I don't own Dax. I don't own Ezri, although I do roleplay
her sometimes. I don't own Worf or Julian (would if I could, heh
heher, yeah). I don't own Jadzia, Lasaran, or the storyline of the
episode 'Change of Heart'. I don't even own Brinner Finok. He was
mentioned in the episode 'Prodigal Daughter'.

But Nenya and I do co-own Kelara. Sort of.

You don't have to have seen 'Change of Heart' to read this story; just
know that Jadzia was injured, and Worf had to choose between his
mission and the life of his par'machkai. In the episode, he chose
Jadzia. I, however, have a tendency to always ask 'what if'...

---

It was morning in the jungle. The suns were filtering through the
caetano leaves, shining in strange and slightly eerie patterns on the
ground. Morning dew covered the ground, and a deep humidity hung in
the air; the kind that makes breathing difficult, and yet
invigorating. All was silent, save for a few animal calls. A lizard
slithered across the ground, blending in almost perfectly with the
pale green of the jungle floor. A bird perched lightly on a slender
branch.

The silence was abruptly disturbed as a heavy, dark hand slammed
through the leaves directly to the right of the small creature. The
bird flew away, croaking unhappily, but the owner of the hand barely
noticed. He didn't notice the humidity, or the beauty of the twin
morning suns, or the lovely red of the lichen covering the bases of
the short, stumpy trees. Once he had cleared his way through the
leaves, he made a quick scan of the area. Satisfied, he began jogging
swiftly ahead, ignoring the leaves that brushed at him and the deep,
mucky turf that sought to hinder his passage.

Behind him, a medium-sized male shape stumbled after. He could barely
hope to keep pace with his companion; he was panting for breath, and
each step was a workout unto itself. As the larger man foraged on,
barely noticing him, he stopped, leaned against a tree, and coughed.
"Klingon!"

Worf stopped, his fists clenched at his sides, but did not turn. "What
is it?"

"I cannot do this."

The Klingon turned, his eyes flaming. "Maybe I did not hear you
correctly. What did you say?"

The Cardassian snorted. Sweat was pouring from his scaled forehead.
"Perhaps your barbaric warrior body can run for hours without halt,
but those of us who spend more time thinking and less shedding blood
need rest every now and then."

Worf contained his anger with some difficulty. "You may either keep
up, or stay here and be recaptured."

"I have secrets that can save millions of lives. You're wearing that
uniform; you must have some concept of what that could mean."

The other paused, and sighed. "Five minutes but that is all."

"Your generosity is touching." The man slumped against the base of the
tree, sipping from a flask at his side.

A very short, tense moment later, Worf began to move again. The
Cardassian's eyes widened. "That was hardly five minutes! Can you not
count, Klingon?"

Worf growled. "Are you coming, or must I carry you?"

"Now that's not a bad idea. Why don't you carry me?" He smiled darkly;
with one swift motion, he pulled out a weapon set to its lowest
setting, pointed it at his forehead, and before Worf could stop him,
fired. Instantly his body dropped to the floor; he wasn't dead, but he
would be unconscious for several hours.

Worf sighed, silently damning the whole Cardassian race, especially
this one. But there was no time to waste. He quickly moved to the
unconscious body, slung it over his shoulder, and kept moving as if he
carried only himself.

There was no point to this, he thought to himself. She was going to be
all right. He could have let the man rest. Jadzia was strong; much too
strong to let a little thing like a phaser blast stop her. She would
make it. It had only been thirty-six hours, after all ... She would be
all right. She really would.

So deep was he in his thoughts, that he did not realize he was drawing
near to the place where they had parted until he almost stumbled
across her body.

She lay on her side against the fallen tree-trunk, head pillowed
lifelessly on one arm. The medkit lay next to her, and one hand
clutched a hypospray. Her eyes were closed, and her face was as pale
as death.

As pale as death...

Fear shot through him like a knife. He dropped the Cardassian
unceremoniously to the floor, and knelt beside his wife. Hastily, he
pressed two long fingers to her neck.

No pulse.

Quickly he turned her onto her back, and looked at the wound. Dry
blood was caked around it, but it had stopped bleeding. Which it
couldn't have done, unless...

Desperately, he pulled her mouth open and lowered an ear to listen for
breath. He could hear the call of the birds, the rustling of the
leaves in the wind, the slow breathing of the comatose man beside him
... but nothing from his wife's lips.

Jadzia...

She couldn't be dead. She couldn't be. Surely her eyes were alive! Her
eyes were always alive, always sparkling. Against all logic, against
all evidence, he had to believe that her eyes would live still.
Trembling with fear, his hands reached up to her closed eyelids.
Gently, almost reverently, he pushed them open.

They were lifeless. Cloudy, pale, empty, and lifeless.

And he knew without a doubt the fate of his par'machkai.

Worf's fists clenched. Slowly, he got to his feet, threw his head
back, and shouted to the heavens a noise that would have put Kahless'
death cry to shame.

He stood there for what seemed like eternity. He couldn't look down at
her again. Slowly it dawned on him that now he would have to carry
both Lasaran and Jadzia's body back to the runabout. Even if the
humans didn't have these ridiculous rituals involving the dead shells
of friends, the symbiont was still alive within her and could be saved
if he moved fast enough.

But who cared about the goddamned symbiont? His wife was gone. His
par'machkai, his soulmate. She was gone. Who would care about a little
worm in her belly?

The answer came to him on the soft voice of the wind.

Jadzia would.

Jadzia would want Dax to survive. She would want her memories, and the
memories of those before her, to live on. It was important to her. And
that was all the encouragement he needed.

Worf set his teeth and knelt to the forest floor. With a grunt, he
slung the unconscious man over one shoulder. Then he stood, turned,
and knelt again. With a strength shown only by one motivated by love,
he lifted the body of his wife gently into his arms, and staggered off
in the direction of the runabout.	

---

The young woman lay on her back on the cold metal table, her long dark
hair lying close about her face. Her pale hands clutched the sides of
the bed, and she was trembling with fear and excitement. A light shone
down on her stomach, but all else in the room was dark.

A voice spoke from the shadows. "Are you ready to begin?"

She nodded, and swallowed tightly. "I am ready." Her voice sounded
small and afraid to her ears. She still wasn't sure she wanted to be
here; it wasn't fair. But she really had no choice. She was the only
Trill on board, after all....

She felt something cold and metal press against the dark spots that
decorated her neck. Instantly she fell unconscious.

A doctor stepped out of the darkness to hover over her. His gloved
hands pulled away the hospital robe that covered the girl's stomach.
An instrument was handed to him, and he slowly cut open the skin that
covered her abdominal pouch. Slowly, carefully, a small wormlike
object was placed inside; various medical tests were done, and the
pouch was closed again.

Another hypo was placed to the woman's neck. Her blue eyes fluttered
and opened. She had awoken; but she was different. Older. You could
see it in her eyes; the feeling as the first tendrils of connection
started to form, and the memories started to wash over her,
overwhelming her with their intensity.

"The operation has been successful," someone said. Someone else called
for the lights. She could hear the relief in their sighs as they
smiled down at her; but she heard it with different ears.

The first pair of eyes she met were those of her captain. Kind,
smiling, blue. Much like Leonard's. She hadn't realized just how much
this Captain reminded her of Leonard McCoy, despite the differences in
gender and profession. "Ensign? Are you all right?"

She nodded, but was unable to speak. It was too amazing. Frightening,
but amazing. She stared into the woman's eyes, trying to convey
everything she was feeling through a single glance.

"Then congratulations, Kelara Dax," said the doctor, smoothing the
hair from his patient's forehead. "Your joining was a complete
success."

Kelara grinned at the medical staff's applause, her eyes shining as
the connections fell into place. Years of training hadn't even begun
to prepare her for this amazing feeling. Slowly she sat up--and felt a
draft; her hospital gown was still open down the front. She was
wearing underclothing, but it was still rather revealing.

Kelara Risil might have been embarrassed, but there was too much
Jadzia in Kelara Dax to resist making the best of it. She grinned.
"Great. Now, could someone find my uniform for me? It's a little
chilly in here."

The chuckles were music to her ears. She loved making people smile.
Benjamin ... he loved to smile. And on the rare occasions she'd heard
Worf's deep laughter ringing across the room--

As the Klingon's dark face floated before her eyes, Kelara suddenly
realized there was a lot more to Joining than she had ever thought.

---

Author's Note: The necklace mentioned at the end of this tale belongs
to CNell. Sorry for stealing it. (bows) Gomen nasai.

---
TEN MONTHS LATER
---

Ezri rolled over in bed with a gasp, her eyes flying open. She lay
there for a few moments, breathing slowly, trying to go back to sleep;
but sleep wouldn't come. She hated it when this happened.

Slowly, careful not to disturb the sleeping form next to her, she
rolled out of bed and moved across the dark room to the replicator.
"Milk, warm," she whispered.

The replicator beeped loudly, and Ezri cursed. Across the room,
Brinner Finok leaped to wakefulness with a sleepy "Whaaaat?"

She grinned sheepishly, cupping her hands around the warm milk and
returning to the bed. "Sorry, darling," she whispered. "Didn't mean to
wake you."

He smiled, clasping her hand. "It's fine. Did you have a bad dream?"

She shrugged, and for a moment she looked strangely vulnerable and
innocent. "No...well...it was strange. It was really vivid. I could
have sworn I wasn't dreaming."

"Computer, raise lighting levels twenty-five percent." He propped
himself up on one elbow, his expression thoughtful. "What happened?"

She shrugged, sipping her milk. "I was...on Deep Space Nine." When he
looked momentarily confused, she elaborated. "You know, that
Cardassian station in the Bajoran system? We stopped there a few
months ago. And...I knew everyone; the captain, the first officer, the
doctor, the Ferengi... everyone. It was like I'd known them for years. 
And everyone was calling me Dax."

"Dax?" Brinner looked confused.

"It's a symbiont. One of the most famous."

He still looked confused. Brinner was only half-Betazoid, but he still
knew exactly what his Imzadi thought of her people's customs. "But I
thought you never wanted to be Joined."

"I don't! That's why it was so strange!" She sighed, set her half-full
mug of milk on the side table, and flopped back on the pillows.

"It makes you wonder, you know?" she said after a moment of thought.

"About?"

"About paths not taken. You know, if someone had been somewhere else
at some time, we could be on the other side of the galaxy or we could
not even exist. There are so many possibilities..."

Brinner was silent for a moment. Then he sat up, his feet tucked
beneath him, and looked down at her. "Are you happy, Ezri?"

She opened her eyes, and looked up at him, her eyebrows furrowed.
"What?"

"Are you happy with me? With this life, this job, the way things
turned out?"

She looked confused. "Of course I am," she assured him softly,
gracefully pulling herself to a sitting position. "What would make you
think otherwise?"

Brinner shrugged. "I don't know. You just seemed pretty...strange for
a moment there. You sounded like you thought you were missing
something."

Ezri reached out to play with his hair. "Brin, I love you. I wouldn't
have things any other way than they are."

His face relaxed into that disarming smile of his, but his eyes were
still worried. "Just making sure."

She cupped his face in her hands, and leaned over to kiss him. Her
hand ran down the Trill pledge chain he wore. It matched hers; pendant
strung plain side out, copper up -- the two were engaged. The gesture
seemed to comfort him; they were going to be married as soon as the
war was over, he reassured himself. Ezri wouldn't have given him the
pledge if she hadn't meant it, that much he knew. She loved him. There
was no reason to worry.

She pulled away, a thoughtful smile on her face. "Good night,
darling."

"Good night," he replied. Then as she lay down, Brinner smiled, and
brushed some hair away from her ear. He leaned over her and whispered
into her ear, his breath tickling her and making her giggle.
"...Imzadi."

She smiled. She'd always liked that Betazoid word. But then a shadow
flitted across her face; and her lips moved to form a word he didn't
recognise.

"Par'machkai."

As if the mumbling of the word had released some small bit of tension
in her mind, Brinner felt Ezri's thoughts suddenly calm. She forgot
about the dream at once; and any uncertainty about him, or about the
life she was leading, was suddenly gone. He relaxed.

"What?" he wondered, giving her a curious look. "What's that mean?"

She shrugged. "Dunno," she mumbled sleepily. "Heard it somewhere..."

And then she was asleep; and neither said anything more until morning.

---

The End