The BLTS Archive - Full Circle by halwen --- Published: 09-10-07 Updated: 09-10-07 Gah. The Angst and the Plot Bunnies have struck again. Since I don't have a computer (long story) this is likely to be changed, but since I had to upload it in order to save it, I decided I might as well post it and see what everyone thought. Keep in mind, therefore, that this is not necessarily a finished product, and that you (that's right, YOU!) might have a hand in its making. So READ and REVIEW people! WARNINGS: Since this is all from inside a plain and simple tailor's head, there are rarely names attached to pronouns. It should, nevertheless, be abundantly obvious who the subject of his thoughts is :-D. Therefore, there is a mild m/m warning, more for very subtle wishes than anything else. Also, beware of odd paragraphing- a friend swears it makes things easier to read, so I'm trying it out, but I'm not too sure I like the result. DISCLAIMER: Look. The computer I'm typing from? Not mine. The book in front of mine? well, sadly, it is mine, since I'm supposed to read all of Romeo and Juliet for tomorrow (argh), but it's in pretty bad condition (I'm not the first person to use it). The shirt I'm wearing? Also not mine. Borrowed from little sister, who will doubtless scream at me for it later. Star Trek or anything related thereto? Also not mine. --- Sometimes I wonder what he sees in me - the Starfleet doctor, so young that he hasn't learned to see past the first rush of lust, and so naïve that he thinks that the only reason he turns heads on the promenade is that he speaks too loudly; and me, the cynical veteran of too many conflicts, and crusty that I sometimes surprise myself in my ability to get out of bed in the morning. On my good days I tell myself that he seeks out my company because he recognizes in me a kindred spirit and intellect- though in light of his recent revelation concerning his genetic engineering, this could be pure self-flattery on my part. On bad days, I think that he's a Starfleet spy sent to keep an eye on me, the only Cardassian they have any hope of keeping an eye on, given that I'm stuck on their godforsaken station. This too might be flattery, since it suggests that I'm important enough for Starfleet to waste what must have been a prodigious amount of time and training on me. But there are some days, when the world seems to close around me, as if I am caught in an avalanche of snow and am too blinded to see and too cold to move, I believe that it is neither my conversation nor my connections that draws him to seek out my company, but pity. Pity for the poor, lonely spoonhead, exiled from his country and his family, with nothing but tailoring to occupy his days. I think that might well be - as the human phrase goes - the nail in my coffin, for while I could bear another's scrutiny and anguish - and have, many a time, during interrogations - I do not think that I could bear another's pity. --- It is his duty as a Starfleet officer to help his fellow humanoids, and his moral obligation as a doctor to 'guard growth and ease pain', but it is also written into his nature, and he helps even those whom he has no reason to help, but perhaps has cause to harm. After he came back from Bopak III, he told me what had happened with the Jem'hadar. It was all I could do to stop myself from either cutting down the little doctor with a word (for his ego is so very fragile) or sobbing in relief that he had escaped alive. I'm not sure what I would have done if my only companion had died, gunned down by a trigger-happy Jem'hadar fighter. But knowing that he could be killed, he still helped them. It all comes full circle, now; he also helped me when my implant malfunctioned, knowing that I was capable of snapping his neck in one movement; also knowing, I hope, that I would never do such a thing. But given how little he knew of Cardassians at the time, and that at that point we were barely acquaintances, I find I am more terrified that he would rush headlong into a similar situation to save another he knew as little - will the next one he rescues be some poor soul committing suicide, who, balked, turns his knife upon his rescuer? What if the next is a member of the Maquis, who holds him for hostage, and, in some misunderstanding of his true worth, blasts him into his component atoms as a show of intent to kill? Or if the next is a trap, set deliberately to deprive this space station of its Chief Medical Officer? The possibilities turn in my head until I almost wish that he had not saved me, that some iota of cynicism and self-preservation had stayed his hand until it was too late. But perhaps having a patient die on his watch would have exacerbated his 'heroic' tendencies, and his situation would be yet more dire; I cannot tell. --- I asked him once what he and Tain had talked about. He said, "Oh, nothing much, mostly about you, actually", then had looked vaguely confused, as if he hadn't meant for it to sound like that. But I learned long ago - Tain taught me, actually - that often the first things a person says are the ones that they mean. It's not universally applicable (Lurians tend to gabble on forever, and the answer to a question is often in the middle of their story, which can take hours to tell; El-Aurians, on the other hand, say little more than they must), but it tends to work with humans. I was very discomfited at the time to think that he thought of conversation about me to be 'nothing much', but since, alternate explanations have presented themselves. Is it possible that he thought I would be embarrassed by his talking about me to my mentor? Or, more tantalizingly, was he the one to have initiated the conversation, and the subject? Since neither will tell me, my curiosity - on this subject, at least - must stay just that. --- I wonder what I would feel if our positions were reversed: he the exile, alone and perhaps spied upon by all around him, I the confident one, surrounded by my people and sure of my standing. Would he then have approached me, as I did him? Would I be as suspicious as he doubtless was? Perhaps to the first, most likely to the second. Would I have helped him, as he did when my implant went awry? He says that he would have helped anyone in my position, and perhaps that is what I do not like. I would like to think that I am special to him in some way, even if only as a curiosity. Though if I had my druthers, it would be as more than an idle curiosity. Not that my preferences are ever taken into account in the turning of the world. --- The End