The BLTS Archive - Greensleeves
by Scopes Monkey (melanie.crisfield@gmail.com)

---

Author's Note: The story is set near the end of the sixth season. Dax
is Jadzia Dax, by the way.

Disclaimer: Paramount own Star Trek and everything legally associated
with it. I own any original characters, situations, or locations. I am
not making any money off of this.

---

Julian Bashir awoke to the sound of someone crying. With a groan, he
rubbed his eyes, shifting onto his back in his bed.

"Want me to get her?" Dax mumbled, half asleep, from beside him.

"No," Bashir muttered, "It's my turn."

He dragged himself from under the covers, blinking blearily, and
stumbled into the next room.

"Computer, lights on seven percent."

They had found that was just enough lighting to see by, without being
too much to startle the baby. With a sigh, Bashir looked down into the
crib at the tiny, bawling figure.

"All right," he said softly. "It's all right."

He reached in to scoop Renzia up carefully and felt a moment's
disorientation. How strange it was, even after six weeks. It still
felt so alien, as if this couldn't possibly be his real life. But her
crying was enough to prove to him this was real. Carrying her
carefully in one arm, Bashir went to warm up a bottle in the
replicator, then sank onto the couch. Renzia stopped bawling as soon
as she realized she was being fed, and began to suck down the milk
happily, her tiny face relaxing from its red, scrunched up rage.
Bashir jiggled her gently as she drank, watching her. Her eyes began
to close again, but he refused to let her fall asleep until she was
finished. He knew she couldn't be entirely happy with that, but was
distracted enough right now not to start crying again.

Already everyone said she looked like Dax. She had the dark hair and
blue eyes, but her eyes were wide, like Bashir's. She also had Trill
markings, although they were somewhat lighter than Dax's.

It had taken them a very long time to finally come to the decision to
have children. Bashir hadn't wanted to in medical school of course,
and then had come the seemingly endless consideration about having a
child who was half-Trill. Would she be able to become a host? There
was no way of guaranteeing that her genetics would support that, aside
from genetic engineering, which was, of course, illegal in the
Federation. It would be up to chance. Would she care? They had met and
talked to many half-Trill, some of them who had no desire to be joined
whatsoever, some who were in the initiate program. Bashir and Dax had
noticed that half-human, half-Trill individuals tended not to want to
be joined; something about the human side wanted to retain the
individuality. All the half-Vulcans, half-Trill they met were
unjoined, but it had not been much of a surprise to Dax. Bashir had
understood when one of them had explained to him that a symbiont would
carry too much emotions from past lives to make any half-Vulcan
comfortable.

They had talked about not having children at all, or adopting.
Certainly there would children out there in need of a good home, and
they could provide that. Adoption still wasn't out of the question.
They had decided early on if they were going to have children, they
would have more than one. Dax had sisters, and Bashir was an only
child. He knew how lonely it could be. Especially when one's parents
couldn't be around.

In the end, they had decided to take the chance and have a child of
their own. A chance it had been. Hybrid pregnancies with a joined
Trill as the mother were risky, and Dax had made it very clear that
the only reason she wasn't insisting they return to Trill was because
Bashir was such a good doctor. Despite their concerns, the pregnancy
had gone smoothly, as smoothly as any pregnancy could go, and Dax had
given birth to a very healthy girl.

Who was now asleep again, the bottle finished.

Bashir pushed himself to his feet and padded back into the bedroom,
put Renzia down on her back and covering her with a light blanket. He
tiptoed back into his own bedroom and settled down under the covers.
Dax's breathing told him she was fast asleep; that was definitely
something that had come with the symbiont. Before, she woke up almost
every time he rolled over.

He closed his eyes and was asleep within moments.

---

"Wake up, sleepy," a voice said in his ear and he felt a hand rubbing
his upper arm.

"Mmm," he sighed, rolling onto his back, opening his eyes. Dax was
smiling at him.

"What time is it?" he murmured.

"Oh-six-thirty."

"And Renzi's still asleep?", he asked, propping himself on his elbows.

"Yes, but probably not for long. You'd better get up. I have duty in
the lab in half an hour. And you promised to meet Miles for breakfast
at oh-seven-thirty."

"I remember," Bashir assured her.

"I know you do. Nothing escapes that brain of yours."

He grinned at her.

"Not even how much I love you," he said.

Dax shook her head, but she was smiling , her blue eyes lit up.

"You're such a charmer, Jules."

"I do try," he said, then kissed her softly. Dax returned the kiss,
grinning into it.

From the other room came a small sound.

"I'll get her; I'm already up," Dax said, pushing herself to her feet
from where she had been crouching beside the bed. She was already
dressed and ready for her duty shift. Bashir lay back down on his
pillow, listening to the sounds in the next room. He wanted to go back
to sleep, but Dax was right; he was meeting O'Brien for breakfast.
With a sigh, he forced himself up and pulled his uniform from the
closet. He didn't have duty until that afternoon; both he and Dax were
working partial shifts right now. Sisko had offered them complete
leave for as long as they wanted, but they both knew that neither of
them would know what to do after a few weeks. They had taken the first
two weeks off altogether, but one of the bonuses of living on a space
station was that it was very easy to get around. If Dax needed him, or
he her, it wasn't hard for either of them to get home. Besides, Bashir
knew it wouldn't be far to ask Tarses to take on all responsibility
for the medical duties on the station.

He pulled the green mock-turtleneck shirt over his head, then slipped
on the uniform jacket. Bashir really approved of these new uniforms.
The jackets were black, with a thin coloured stripe that came across
the shoulder then deflected straight down to the waist. The stripe
colours, of course, matched the mock turtleneck and differed by job
type. The rank pips were on the collar of the jacket, not the shirt,
and the jacket was worn partially open. Starfleet had really outdone
itself in comfort this time, too.

Dax came back in, in her blue and black science uniform.

"Here," she said, shifting the baby into his arms. "I need to get
going. I'll see you at lunch."

"Right," Bashir said, kissing her quickly on the lips. "Have a good
day."

"I will. Love you."

"I love you, too," he replied easily. She smiled, then bent down to
give their daughter a swift kiss on the forehead. Bashir picked up his
daughter's small hand and waved it at Dax, who laughed and hurried out
the door.

"All right, baby," Bashir said, settling his daughter on his bed and
surrounding her with pillows, to keep her in one place. "Daddy needs
to shave. Here."

He gave her a soft, plastic toy that Kira had given them when Renzia
had been born. Immediately, the baby stuck it into her mouth, then
lost her grip on it. Bashir put it back into her hands; she was too
young to be able to hold onto it for long, though. It took him awhile
to shave because of that fact; Renzia didn't like being alone and
didn't like being bored. And she was bored as soon as she was alone
and had lost her grip on her toy. In the end, he was late, but he
arrived to find that Commander Kira and Kai Bareil had joined
Commander O'Brien.

"Kai Bareil!", Bashir said in surprise as he approached the table. "I
didn't think you'd be arriving for two more days! Good morning, Miles,
good morning, Nerys."

The two Starfleet officers returned the greeting and the Kai smiled
his gentle, peaceful smile. It was astounding to Bashir that someone
could be so composed all of the time.

"Neither did I," Bareil admitted. "But some appointments were moved
up, and I was able to get away early." He had Kira's hand in his, and
squeezed it as he spoke. The commander was grinning, her entire face
alight. Bashir couldn't imagine how they made it work; if he had as
little time to spend with Dax as Kira and Bareil did with each other,
he'd go insane.

"So this is Terok Nor's newest resident," the Kai continued.

Bashir grinned as he sat down, shifting Renzia in his arms.

"For the time being. Would you like to hold her?"

"If it's all right with you," Bareil replied.

"I was going to give her to Miles anyway. She loves having any new
attention. She loves people."

"Especially that godfather of hers," Kira commented, grinning over at
O'Brien.

"I have the touch," O'Brien joked. Carefully, Bashir gave Renzia to
Bareil, who looked delighted to be holding her. Renzia, always
appreciative of any attention, cooed endearingly and waved her small
hands.

"She looks just like her mother," Bareil said.

"Everyone says that," Bashir replied with a grin. "How is everyone
this morning?"

"Fine," O'Brien replied, sipping his raktajino. "And now that you're
here, we can start eating."

Bashir laughed.

"You didn't have to wait for me. But I appreciate that you got my
breakfast," he said, gesturing to the scones and jam and raktajino in
front of him.

"Food is a poor substitute for sleep," O'Brien said. "But a father can
always hope it works."

"Is she still waking up in the night?" Kira asked.

"Yes," Bashir said, then took a sip of his steaming coffee. The
Bajorans had opted for a more traditional Bajoran breakfast, and, true
to his self-discipline, Bareil had less food than the rest of them,
mostly fruit and grains, and some tea. "But that's common for human
babies. Even half-human babies. She'll grow out of it."

"It's a good thing Bajoran nights are longer than Terran ones," Kira
commented. "Gives you that extra hour to sleep."

Bashir smirked.

"I don't notice anymore. I've lived here too long. You should hear
Jadzia complain. I think she'd like another ten hours added to the
night."

"Can't say I blame her sometimes," O'Brien commented.

"Only because then you'd have more time to do repairs," Kira teased.

"Cardassian and Bajoran technology were never meant to work with other
Federation technologies. I don't understand why Starfleet never
thought of that when this place was built. You'd think that the
Cardassians tabling a plan to build an orbital processing center might
have caused a few other Federation engineers to pay attention, instead
of us scrambling to join technologies afterwards."

"You could always request more Cardassian engineers," Kira said with a
smile. "I'm sure I could get Captain Sisko to approve the transfers."

"I bet you could," O'Brien said dryly. "But the ones I have already
act as if I'm crazy when I suggest changes. Or think they can do it
better than I can."

"There's no engineer in the galaxy who could do a better job than you,
Miles," Bashir assured his friend. O'Brien chuckled.

"Just be glad you can get Cardassian parts," Kira pointed out. "Can
you imagine if you couldn't?"

"Don't even say that!" O'Brien warned.

"Speaking of Cardassians," Bashir said, watching with a smile at
Bareil played with his daughter, "When is the admiral due, Commander?"

"Tomorrow afternoon," Kira replied with a smile of her own.

"You must be looking forward to it," Bashir commented. He felt strange
saying it, as if the arrival of Kira's adopted father wasn't something
she should be looking forward to it. He shook off the feeling,
wondering what was wrong with him, then deciding it was the lack of
uninterrupted sleep.

"It's been a long time since I've seen him, or my mother," the
commander said. "And Ziyal is coming with them."

"That's wonderful," Bareil said. "I didn't know that. It will be good
to see her again."

"I just found out myself, early this morning," Kira replied. "When
your father is Admiral Dukat, it's not hard to get permission to come
to an official state event."

"Any word for the Trisepat?", Bashir asked.

"Our communications posts in the Gamma Quadrant sent a signal through
late last night. The fleet's on their way. They'll be here exactly
when they said they'd be here."

"Nothing like Trisepat punctuality," O'Brien said.

"They're nothing if not precise," Bashir agreed. "Still, better than
having a surprise fleet of ships sailing through the wormhole."

"I still think we were lucky," Kira said. "Imagine what else we could
have found on the other side of the wormhole. If a Bajoran or
Cardassian ship had found the wormhole seven hundred years ago, it
would have been that Dominion we would have run into."

"From what I've read about Trisepat history, that would have been a
very unpleasant alternative," Bashir said, feeling a shiver run down
his spine. He wondered at himself; why was he feeling so off today?

"Well, we don't have to worry about any of that," Kira said, taking
off her black and red uniform jacket. Underneath, she wore a red
command uniform shirt with short sleeves. Most non-Cardassian
Starfleet officers stationed on Terok Nor did. The station had been
designed by Cardassian engineers and built by the Cardassian and
Bajoran governments to process ore mined on Bajor that was heading for
the Cardassian systems. It was kept warmer than most of the crew
liked, but lower than standard ambient Cardassian temperature. There
had to be some compromises.

"All we need to worry about is the masses of ambassadors and delegates
and luminaries that will be flooding the station over the next two
days," O'Brien commented.

Bareil, who was eating his breakfast and occupying Renzia, smiled at
the officers.

"I'm glad to the first of those masses," he said.

"Believe me, Antos, you're our favorite," Bashir replied with a grin.
"I wish they were all like you."

"Patient and respectful," Kira agreed. "But I don't think we're
expecting any Klingons. It should make Quark happy."

"And me," Bashir replied. "Simon, too. I cannot believe how much those
people love to fight."

"Don't get too comfortable with the idea, Julian," Kira warned.
"Chancellor Gowron might send some diplomats anyway. Just to show the
Trisepat that the Klingon Empire welcomes them and looks forward to
their visit to Qo'noS."

Bashir opened his mouth to say something when the station rocked
suddenly. The four adults looked around, alarmed, and Bashir noticed
Bareil tighten his grip on the baby.

"What was that?", the doctor demanded.

"Kira to Ops!" the commander snapped, hitting her combadge. "What the
hell is going on?"

"Some sort of explosion in the ore processing center!" Dax's voice
came back. "We're trying to establish communications– got it! Dax
out!"

Bashir was already rising from his chair when Tarses' calm, level
voice came over the com.

"Tarses to Bashir. Please report to the infirmary."

"I'm on my way, Simon!" Bashir replied.

"Sisko to Kira and O'Brien. Get up here now."

Bashir hesitated, aware that he had to do something with Renzia.

"Don't worry, Doctor," Bareil said in a reassuring voice. "I'll take
care of her."

"Thank you," Bashir said gratefully and turned and ran to the
infirmary. He skidded inside in time to see the transporter depositing
five people into the main examination area. Tarses was there
immediately, cool and collected as always, and he was joined by two
nurses.

Three of the people beamed in were standing, and two were holding an
obviously injured man between them. Only Odo wasn't wearing the
mandatory processing suit, being impervious to any of the contaminants
or the heat in the processing center. The man being held by the two
white suit-clad ore workers had obviously been hit by the blast; his
own white suit was stained black and torn open, revealing scorched
clothing and blood.

The other suited figure removed her helmet; it was a Cardassian
supervisor. Bashir noted all of this in less than a second.

"What the hell happened?", he demanded, grabbing a tricorder and
scanning the injured man as the two other ore workers struggled to get
him onto a bed.

"There was an explosion in one of the power lines," Odo replied. "Part
of the conduit got blocked somehow and the pressure built up until it
blew."

"We have to get this man into surgery. Simon, Jabara, Kiln, help me
get him desuited. Odo, who is it?"

"Jake Sisko."

---

Bashir and Tarses emerged from surgery two hours later. Bashir knew
Tarses must be tired, but he wasn't showing it. The Vulcan half of his
ancestry did help; he was as strong as any full-blooded Vulcan, and
dealt better with lack of sleep than anyone else Bashir knew.
Nonetheless, Bashir dismissed him; Tarses had been there most of the
night and all morning, and his duty shift was long since over.

Captain Sisko was in the waiting area, pacing back and forth when
Bashir stepped in. To the doctor's relief, Ezri Reth was there with
him. She was officially still a counselor-in-training, and under the
supervision of Counselor Telnorri, but she was remarkably adept. Like
Dax, she was joined, but she was her symbiont's first host, so her
experiences and memories were solely hers.

Sisko stopped abruptly and spun to face Bashir.

"How is he?" the captain demanded.

"He's all right, sir," Bashir assured him. "Although it's going to
take some time for him to recover. His injuries were very serious, and
anyone, especially a young man Jake's age, is going to need time to
accept what happened."

"How serious?" Sisko asked.

"I had to amputate and replace his right arm just above the elbow.
Sir, he won't be able to feel a difference, but something like that is
a big shock. I'm taking him off duty in the processing center for at
least a month, maybe longer. He will need quite a bit of rest. I want
to keep him here for the next two days for observation, and then I
should be able to discharge him to you and Captain Yates."

Sisko nodded curtly.

"Other than that, he's recovering well."

"Can I see him?"

"Yes, but he is still unconscious from the surgery."

"Can you revive him?"

"I could, but I'm not going to, sir. I'd rather he woke up in his own
time. It will be better for his body, and help speed the recovery. He
doesn't need the additional stress of his body right now."

Sisko nodded again, looking displeased, his dark eyes flashing
angrily. Bashir knew the anger wasn't directed at him, but at Sisko's
inability to control the situation.

"You can still go and see him, sir. Believe me, unconscious patients
can still be aware of outside stimuli. I'm sure Jake would appreciate
having you there."

"Thank you, Julian," Sisko said, and hurried off toward the recovery
area. Bashir stripped off the rest of his green surgery clothing and
stuffed it into the replicator provided for that reason. It vanished
as he sat down beside Reth, who gave him a sympathetic smile.

"Do they know what happened yet? The details, I mean."

The counselor gave a small shrug.

"From what Commander O'Brien was able to tell me, one of the power
conduits got blocked somehow, and the pressure built up to the point
that it exploded. Apparently, it happened very quickly, which is why
it wasn't detected. Captain Sisko has our repair crews working with
the ore processing repair crews to figure out what happened, exactly."

Bashir sighed, running his hands through his hair.

"You look exhausted," Reth commented.

He gave her a lopsided smile.

"Thanks," he replied.

Reth smiled back slightly, shaking her head at him. She had the same
colouring as Dax, with dark hair and blue eyes, although her skin was
paler. Bashir tended to think of this as the typical Trill colouring,
even though he knew it wasn't. But Dax and Reth were the only two
Trill he knew very well, and they looked a lot a like in those terms.

"Julian, you're a good doctor, and Jake's a strong young man. He'll be
fine."

Bashir nodded.

"I know that," he replied. "It isn't really that that's bothering me.
I mean, obviously, I wish this hadn't happened, and I wish this wasn't
Jake. But it just seems like the kind of thing to happen today."

Reth gave him a confused look.

"What do you mean?"

"I've felt strange all day," he admitted. "Like something isn't quite
right."

"Quite right how?" she asked.

Bashir smirked. He was amazed at Reth's ability to draw anyone into
talking about what they might prefer to keep quiet. But he wanted to
get rid of this unease, and he had been mulling it over all morning,
prior to going into surgery. Maybe he needed a fresh point of view.

"Things are surprising me that shouldn't surprise me. Like this
morning, when Renzi woke up, I was startled that I had a baby. Mind
you, I've had that feeling since she was born. But there have been
other things. It felt strange to talk to Commander Kira about her
father visiting, as if it wasn't right that  Admiral Dukat was related
to her, or that she was looking forward to seeing him."

Reth frowned.

"That does sound odd," she admitted. "But everyone has off days,
Julian, and you've told me yourself you aren't getting any full
nights' sleep, with Renzi waking up. I wouldn't be surprise if you
were simply tired and it was throwing you off."

Bashir sighed and leaned back in his seat.

"Neither would I," he admitted. "Maybe you're right. Maybe all I
really need is a good night's sleep."

"Why don't you go get some rest now?" Reth suggested.

"I can't," Bashir admitted. "I sent Simon home; he'd been here all
night. And someone needs to stay with Jake."

"What about Renzi?" Reth asked.

"Kai Bareil has her, or at least he had her when I came here. I don't
know if Jadzia's gone off duty to take care of her."

"Well, try to get some rest sometime today," the counselor advised.
"And if you're still feeling this disorientation, you know how to get
ahold of me."

"Thanks, Ezri," Bashir said sincerely. He truly liked Reth, and found
it easy to talk to her, despite his usual disquiet where counselors
were concerned.

"That's what I'm here for. I'll talk to you later, Julian," she said.
She rose, squeezed his arm, and slipped out. Bashir watched her go,
then tapped his combadge. Now that the emergency was past, and the
situation was under control, he needed to find out where his wife and
child were. He couldn't imagine anything that would make him feel
better right now than knowing they were all right and safe.

"Bashir to Dax."

"This is Dax, go ahead, Julian."

He breathed out a deep sigh of relief.

"Where are you, Jadzia?"

"At home. Renzi's asleep. How's Jake?"

"He'll be all right. Captain Sisko is with him right now. I have to
stay here, because Simon worked all night. Do you think you can come
down here when Renzi wakes up?"

He heard the smile in her voice when she replied: "We'll be there as
soon as we can."

---

The doors of the station's infirmary hissed open to admit Doctor Simon
Tarses. He stepped over the raised lip of the threshold, something to
which he had to adjust to doing when he was first assigned here. It
seemed illogical to him to have these raised doorways; it only impeded
access and caused many newcomers to trip.

Julian Bashir was monitoring Jake Sisko's condition when Tarses
stepped into the recovery room. The human looked up and smiled,
although Tarses could see the dark circles under his eyes and the
weariness in his face. It had been a long day.

"How is he?" Tarses asked.

"Better," Bashir replied. "He's still unconscious, but his vital signs
are strong and steady. I've been giving him analgesics every three
hours, one cc only."

"Understood," Tarses said.

"I imagine he'll be awake soon. Captain Sisko left about half an hour
ago, but I promised him we could set up a cot if he wanted to stay
here tonight."

"I'll take care of that," Tarses assured Bashir.

"Keep an eye on the circulation and neural transmissions to his new
arm, and on his adrenaline levels. When he wakes up, I don't want him
panicking and making himself worse."

"All right," Tarses said, then frowned slightly. "You should go home
and sleep, Julian. You look tired."

"I am," the other doctor admitted with a smile. "And I have every
intention of going home and going to bed. But if you need me, just
call."

"I will," Tarses assured him, but suspected that this night would be
fairly uneventful, unless more patients came in unexpectedly. With the
processing center shut down for the time being, he did not find this a
very likely prospect.

"All right, I'll be back in the morning," Bashir said. "I'll be
pulling full shifts until Jake's out of here, so we have someone to
keep an eye on him all the time."

"Agreed."

Bashir handed the PADD he'd been holding to Tarses. It was an
up-to-date history of Jake's condition and any changes in his status.
Tarses gave it a quick glance and saw nothing of note, although he
would look it over more carefully in a few minutes.

"Good night, Simon."

"Good night, Julian. Sleep well."

Again, Bashir grinned.

"I hope so," he said and walked out. Tarses looked down at the PADD,
then up again when he saw Bashir pause, out of the corner of his eye.
The human doctor stood where he was for a moment, then put a hand to
his forehead. Tarses opened his mouth to ask if he was all right, but
Bashir swayed, then collapsed.

It was only because of his Vulcan reflexes that Tarses managed to
catch Bashir before the human hit the ground or the wall. He grunted
under the sudden strain, and managed to shift Bashir's weight
appropriately enough so that he could lower the suddenly unconscious
man to the floor.

"Julian," Tarses said, touching Bashir's face. He snapped his hand
back then; even to his half-Vulcan senses, which were warmer than a
full human's, Bashir was burning up. There was sweat beading on the
doctor's forehead and he was breathing hard. Tarses glanced behind him
quickly, then shifted Bashir again, lifting him up easily and
depositing him onto a biobed. He slapped a biomonitor on the other
doctor's forehead, picked up a medical tricorder and began scanning
him. He frowned deeply, the human half of him threatening to take
over, worry impinging on the edges of his mind. Bashir's temperature
was 39 degrees Celsius. Without meaning to, Tarses swore under his
breath. He caught himself then, and reasserted control of his
emotions. It would not help Bashir to be agitated or distracted right
now.

Tarses found a hypospray and took a small sample of the doctor's
blood, putting it into the testing chamber. He let it run while he
injected Bashir with an analgesic and medication that would help bring
down the fever. He took the doctor's uniform jacket off and hung it up
conscientiously.

The computer beeped to let him know the scan of Bashir's blood sample
was finished.

"Results," Tarses ordered.

"Patient is suffering from varicella-zoster virus."

Tarses paused, then turned around to glance behind him.

"What?" he said, looking at the blood sample in the testing casing.

"Patient is suffering from varicella-zoster virus."

Tarses turned back to Bashir, who was half-conscious now, and mumbling
something the doctor could not make out.

"Computer, prepare three vials of acyclovir," he ordered.

"Acknowledged."

Tarses straightened up as the computer produced three vials of the
requested drug. He took one, fitted it into a hypospray and injected
Bashir with it. Then he tapped his combadge.

"Tarses to Commander Dax."

"Dax here. Go ahead, Simon."

"Commander, you need to come down the infirmary. Julian is ill."

---

"Chicken pox!" Dax and Sisko asked at the same time. There was
confusion in Dax's voice, incredulity in Sisko's.

Tarses nodded.

"Officially, it is a virus called varicella-zoster," he said. "It's a
very common illness among human children. We've never been able to
eradicate it entirely. There is a vaccine, but it's usually only
administered to children with immunodeficiencies."

"Why?" asked Dax.

"It's nonfatal in healthy children," Tarses explained. "Once a child's
had the disease, he or she usually becomes immune to it. It helps
build the immune system as well. A healthy immune system has to be
exposed to some contagions, or it won't be able to strengthen itself."

"If people become immune to it, then why is Julian sick?" Dax asked.

"There are cases of adults contracting the disease a second time. It's
also possible that Julian never had this as a child. I've checked his
medical records, and there's no indication he had it."

"But his medical records were all altered when he was enhanced," Dax
finished for Tarses, sighing. "Right."

"The only people who would know for sure are his parents," Tarses
said.

"And they're in a penal colony on Earth."

"Precisely."

"I'll get through to them," Sisko promised.

"Benjamin, he's my husband, I should–"

"And he's my doctor," Sisko cut in. "I am his CO. You told me yourself
they've never met you, Dax, and I'd rather them have to face Julian's
commander than his wife on something like this. It's my responsibility
as his superior officer."

Dax sighed again, crossing her arms and nodding.

"Right," she said. Truth be told, she hadn't wanted to talk to
Bashir's parents anyway. She had never met them, as Sisko had said,
and she knew Bashir hadn't said much about her. To say they weren't
close would be astronomically understating the issue. She could count
on one hand how many times he had spoken to them since finding out
about his genetic enhancements at the age of twenty-two.

"So, what happens now?" Dax asked.

Tarses looked displeased, something which started the Trill. She
wasn't used to seeing any expression on the half-Vulcan's face.

"This illness can be extremely dangerous to an adult patient," he said
plainly. "It can be fatal. I will need to keep Julian here. I've been
administering an anti-viral drug that has been known to help, and
Julian does have a very strong immune system thanks to his genetic
enhancements."

"If his immune system is so strong, how did he get this?" Sisko asked.

Tarses gave him a long look.

"I don't know, sir."

"Can I see him?" Dax asked. "Will I get infected?"

"Yes, you can see him. Trill cannot contract or carry this disease."

"What about Renzi?" Dax pressed.

"Half-human children have a very low contraction rate," Tarses assured
her. "If you bring Renzia in tomorrow, I can vaccinate her. Commander,
I need to ask if you and your son had this illness."

"Oh, yes, Jake certainly did," Sisko said. "I remember it very well.
And I did, too, when I was five."

"Good. I will need every human who has never had this to report to me
for vaccination tomorrow. Dax, you can go in, if you'd like."

Dax nodded and hurried away, thinking about her daughter. She ought to
call the O'Briens and let them know what was going on. They had been
good enough to take the baby when Dax had been called to the
infirmary, but, right now, Dax was more concerned with seeing Bashir
than talking to anyone else. It could wait a few minutes.

Bashir was in one of the small recovery rooms, lying on a biobed on
his back in the low lighting. Dax hurried over to him and took his
hand, smoothing back the damp hair from his feverish forehead. He had
a few small red spots on his face, and she hoped that was normal.

"Jules," she whispered.

His eyes fluttered open and he managed a weak smile.

"Jadzia," he whispered back. "Hi."

"How do you feel?"

"Terrible," he replied, but managed a weak smile. "I feel like I've
been hit by a shuttle. I don't suppose that's what happened?"

"No."

"Pity," he sighed. Then he reached up and Dax took his hand quickly.
"It's all right," he assured her. "I'll be okay."

"Simon said this can be fatal in adults," she said.

Bashir managed to nod.

"It can," he said. "I need some water."

Dax got him some quickly and helped him sit up enough to drink it.
Then he lay back down, looking exhausted.

"Jadzia, listen to me. I'm not going to die. People who die from this
die as a result of opportunistic varicella pneumonia and they
invariably have some sort of compromised immune system. I'll be all
right, I promise. And Simon is a good doctor. One of the best I've
ever met."

Dax nodded. She was still uncertain and hated that feeling. After
eight lifetimes, it was unnerving how this fear could creep up. But it
always so hard to see a loved one in the hospital. Especially Bashir,
who had never really been ill since she'd known him.

"I don't understand how you could get this now, with your
enhancements."

He nodded. There were circles under his eyes, and he looked as if he
might slip into sleep at any moment, but surprised her by staying
awake.

"I don't remember if I had this as a child, so getting it now might
not be such a surprise. Please, don't worry." He paused, then frowned.
"Where's Renzia?"

"With Miles and Keiko."

"Good," he murmured, then sighed, his eyelids fluttering shut.

"Do you want me to go?" Dax whispered.

"No, stay here," he mumbled. "Talk to me."

"About what?"

"Something. Anything."

She paused, and thought he'd gone to sleep, but he turned his face
toward her and opened his eyes slightly.

"I remember when I first met you," he whispered.

Dax smiled.

"So do I. You still owe Shannon for introducing us, you know."

"I owe her?" he murmured. "What about you?"

"I'm over three hundred years old. I would have muddled through
somehow. But then this dashing young medical student stepped into my
life. What was a girl to do?"

"You weren't three hundred years old when I met you," Bashir reminded
her.

"No," Dax agreed. "Only twenty-four. And susceptible to the charms of
a certain young cadet."

"Not so charming now," Bashir murmured.

"For better or worse, Jules, remember?"

"How could I forget?" he asked, closing his eyes, a small smile on his
face.

"I don't think anyone who was there the day you proposed has forgotten
that. I certainly wasn't expecting you to leave after lunch for your
neurology class and then turn around and ask me in front of everyone
walking past."

"Neither was I," Bashir admitted.

"It's probably why I said yes," Dax said, smiling and leaning down to
kiss his forehead. His skin was warm even to her lips and she frowned,
then smoothed her expression when he opened his eyes again. He seemed
so vulnerable lying there, and it wasn't a sight she was used to. This
was Bashir humbled, his role in this infirmary completely reserved. No
wonder it was unsettling, she realized.

"But then, how could I have said no to the man who encouraged me to be
joined even if it meant the risk of losing me?"

Bashir squeezed her hand gently and Jadzia squeezed back, a bit
harder. Those had been rough days, after her joining, still not sure
what she would want as she adjusted to the symbiont. And Bashir had
told her not to refuse the symbiont on his account, because he would
rather have lost her than have her regret a decision like that. And he
had faced the difficulties head on, working through them with her.

She wouldn't have traded him for anyone in the galaxy.

His deepening breathing told her he had slipped into sleep. Dax
watched him for a moment, then pulled up a chair and sat down beside
him, still holding his hand. In all her lives, she had never known
anyone quite like him, so strong and loyal, so willing to fight for
what they had. It still amazed her at times, because she knew how
people perceived Bashir when they first met him: young, arrogant,
untried. Dax knew better. He was those things, of course, but
underneath, there was a man who knew what he wanted and would face
down any challenges to get it.

She stayed awhile longer, watching him sleep, a fairly peaceful sleep
despite the fever. Then she went to pick up her daughter and headed
home. It was time to put this day behind her. Even after eight
lifetimes, a day where two people close to her had landed in the
infirmary had rattled her. She could tell when she picked Renzia up
from the O'Briens that it had rattled Miles as well. They had all
grown used to the stability of Terok Nor. Even for someone who had
died seven times, suffering was not an easy prospect to face.

---

"Please state the nature of the medical emergency."

Jake Sisko watched with interest as the emergency medical hologram
came to life. Doctor Tarses extended a PADD and the hologram took it.

"The other doctor is ill, and requires medical attention. So does this
young man. I cannot provide care twenty-six hours a day."

"I understand," the EMH said.

"This is a detailed medical history of both patients," Tarses
continued. "Both cases are fairly straightforward. Jake is allowed to
have any visitors who come and see him, although I am restricting
Julian's visitors to the names on the PADD. If you have any questions,
please call me."

The EMH nodded.

"Doctor Simon Tarses, is it?" he asked, glancing down at the PADD.

"Yes. I will be back on duty in twelve hours." He turned to Jake and
nodded. "I will see you then."

Jake grinned, although weakly. He was exhausted and still on some pain
killers, but was feeling remarkably better than he had when he had
awoken in the middle of the night. Despite the explosion and his
injuries, he felt in good spirits. Tarses had explained about his arm
being replaced, and earlier in the morning, Ezri Reth had come by to
talk to him about it. Jake wondered if they were expecting him to be
shocked or traumatized, but he couldn't see how he would feel that
way. His arm was still his arm. When he held it up, it looked and felt
the same. His sense of touch reacted the same way. Nothing felt
different. Reth had been pleased about that. Jake wondered if his
reaction was due to the fact that he couldn't actually remember the
accident. He remembered nothing past starting work in the processing
center that morning, then waking up here.

"Have a good day, Doctor," he said as Tarses departed. The EMH turned
to the young man lying on the bed and gave him a critical look.

"According to this, you're recovering well," he said.

Jake smiled again.

"That's good," he said. "Can you let me go home?"

"I'm afraid not. Doctor Tarses was very specific in his orders here.
You're here until at least tomorrow."

Jake sighed.

"What am I supposed to do here all day?" he asked.

"Heal," the doctor replied.

"Jake-o!" a voice said from the doorway and Sisko stepped in,
grinning. "How do you feel?"

"Can I help you?" the EMH enquired.

"I'm Captain Benjamin Sisko, commander of this station and this young
man's father. I trust I'm allowed to visit him?"

The EMH rolled his eyes and Jake bit down on surprised laughter.

"I'm aware of you who are, Captain," the doctor sighed, sounding put
upon. "Very well. Just try not to be too rambunctious."

Sisko raised an eyebrow, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips.

"I'll be sure to try," he promised.

"Good," the doctor muttered darkly. "If you need me, I'll be checking
up on this doctor with," he glanced at the PADD, then raised his
eyebrows, an expression of distaste on his face, "Chicken pox."

The EMH left the room and Sisko and Jake exchanged a look, chuckling
quietly.

"He has quite the bedside manner," Sisko commented, shaking his head.

"Well, we could have had that one modeled after Doctor Bashir,
remember?"

"Yes, and how do you suppose Julian would have felt being taken care
of by a hologram of himself?"

Jake grinned.

"How are you feeling, kiddo?"

"Better, Dad. Honest."

Sisko leaned down to kiss Jake on the forehead.

"Glad to hear it. Did Ezri come by and talk to you?"

"She did," Jake replied. "And I'm fine. Really, I am," he said, when
Sisko looked doubtful. "I don't remember anything that happened."

"Jake, whether you remember it or not, you've still had a very
traumatic experience. I know right now you just want to get up and go,
but you need time to rest."

Jake sighed.

"That's what Doctor Tarses said."

"Well, he has a good head on his shoulders. I wouldn't argue logic
with a Vulcan, even a half-Vulcan. Whether or not you want to, right
now you just have to give yourself some time."

"I just wish they'd let me go home."

"Soon enough. And it won't be home you'll be going to. You're coming
to stay with Kasidy and me."

"What? Why?"

"Julian's orders."

"But he's sick."

"He's still the CMO and his orders still stand. I can't do anything
about that."

Jake frowned, but reluctantly left the subject alone.

"All right."

"That's the spirit." Sisko glanced around the room. "Looks like you've
had a lot of well wishers since I left."

Jake nodded, then grimaced slightly from the fatigue. Every available
surface in the room was covered with flowers or cards, mostly from the
other ore processing workers. His two supervisors, Odo and Chlera
Nerak had brought the gifts. Nog had stopped by before his duty shift,
too, and brought Jake his writing padds and some music, for which Jake
was grateful. He didn't have the energy to write at the moment, but he
knew he'd get bored eventually, cooped up in the infirmary.

"Kasidy sends her love and promises she'll come by after she's done
her runs to Bajor today. Kira and Kai Bareil said a prayer for you in
the shrine last night. Keiko says to say hello, too, and Dax wants you
to get better quickly."

"I will," Jake promised. "It'll be good to see Kas."

"Just make sure you don't have too many visitors. You still do need to
rest."

"You keep saying that," Jake sighed, but knew his father was right. He
was tired, and felt himself beginning to drift off.

"Excuse me," a voice said from behind Sisko and Jake looked over his
father's shoulder to see an unfamiliar Cardassian standing in the
doorway. Sisko was on his feet immediately.

"Admiral Dukat. Are you all right?"

"I'm afraid not, Captain," the admiral replied. He was holding his
right arm and looking pained. "I tend to forget how good my daughter
really is at springball. Is there a doctor on duty?"

"We have the EMH program running right now. I believe he's in the
other room."

The admiral nodded and limped away.

"How is Doctor Bashir, Dad?"

Sisko smiled.

"That's my son," he said. "Thinking about everyone else before
himself."

Jake chuckled quietly.

"To be honest, I don't know. Dax said Julian is sure he'll be fine,
although Simon is more concerned. But Julian's a strong man, and a
doctor. He probably does know best."

"How does someone his age get chicken pox?" Jake murmured.

"That's what I'd like to know," Sisko said, then shook his head once.
"You need to get some sleep, Jake-o. I'll come back later, with
Kasidy."

"All right," Jake mumbled.

"I love you," Sisko said, kissing his son on the forehead. Jake
managed a small smile in return before finally succumbing to sleep.
The EMH entered the dim, quiet room and looked at the patient on the
bed. Bashir was either asleep or pretending to be. Quickly, the doctor
checked Bashir's temperature, noted it had gone down, and gave him
another dose of acyclovir.

"So this is the man with the chicken pox," he muttered to himself.
Indeed, Bashir had the telltale red pox marks on his face and hands.
The EMH looked at them disdainfully and shook his head.

"What kind of grown man gets the chicken pox?" he said under his
breath.

"Doctor," said a voice from behind him. The EMH turned to see an
admiral dressed in the black and grey of Starfleet security standing
in the corridor, holding his right arm and obviously favoring his
right leg.

"What can I do for you, Admiral?"

"Sporting injury," the admiral replied.

"Well, come with me. Tell me what happened."

The Cardassian limped behind the EMH into the examination area.

"I was playing springball with my daughter. She's a lot better at it
than I remembered."

"I see. Well, perhaps you should find an opponent closer to your skill
level."

The admiral laughed, a rich and appreciative laugh.

"I don't think so, Doctor," he replied. "I doubt Nerys would forgive
me if I refused to play against her."

"Nerys? As in Commander Kira Nerys?"

"The very same."

"Then you must be Admiral Dukat."

"Do they run your program often, Doctor?"

"Not at all. In fact, I'm starting to think they don't appreciate me
very much. The simple fact is that I've been programmed with the names
and personal information of the station's permanent crew. It makes it
easier on everyone when I am running."

"I see."

"This will hurt."

"Your assurances do wonders for my anxieties, Doctor. I was under the
impression that human doctors were renowned for their bed side
manner."

"I'm sure some of them are. I, on the other hand, am a hologram, not a
human. Hold still, please, Admiral. There, that takes care of your
arm. I don't care what your daughter thinks, you won't be playing for
the next two days. You had a fractured radius and it looks like you've
got a nasty sprain in your ankle."

Dukat sighed, shaking his head.

"Very well, Doctor, if you insist."

"I always insist. Now, off with that boot. I'm a doctor, not a tailor.
I need to get a better look at that ankle."



---

Bashir opened his eyes and lay in the near darkness, straining his
enhanced hearing as much as he could. There was someone else in the
infirmary, aside from Jake and the EMH. He listened hard, ignoring the
sounds of the machinery around him. It was more difficult to
concentrate now; the fever was affecting his mental acuity and
distracting him. He felt like he was burning up, but at the same time,
was loath to get rid of any of the blankets covering him. He still
felt weak, as if he had actually been hit by a shuttle, and he was
thirsty and hungry.

All of that took second place to trying to figure out whose voice that
was.

Dukat.

Bashir started when he realized the Cardassian was there. What was he
doing on the station? How had he slipped past security? Why was the
EMH treating him? Since when did his infirmary have an EMH?

Carefully, Bashir slipped from his bed. He gripped the side of the bed
for a moment while he regained his tenuous balance, taking several
deep breaths to steady himself. He went to tap his communicator, then
realized he wasn't wearing it. He was in the horrible purple and
orange infirmary pajamas.

Slowly, he made his way to the corridor and up to the examination
room. Dukat was sitting on an exam bed, being tended to by the EMH. He
was dressed in a black and grey Starfleet security uniform. Bashir's
brow furrowed; why in the galaxy would Dukat think that such a
disguise would fool anyone?

"Computer," Bashir whispered, "Deactivate EMH."

The EMH vanished in mid-sentence and Dukat looked around, surprised.
Before he could open his mouth to reactivate the hologram, Bashir
stepped into the room, one hand on the door frame for support.

"Dukat," he said in a low voice.

"Admiral Dukat, yes," the Cardassian said.

"Do you think that's going to fool anyone? That you'll go unnoticed
here?"

The Cardassian gave him a puzzled and very careful look.

"Do I think what will fool anyone?" he asked, getting up carefully
from the bed. Bashir noted that the Cardassian was favoring his right
leg and took the advantage. He launched himself at Dukat, catching the
other man off guard and bearing him to the ground. Dukat struggled,
but Bashir was just as strong or stronger, thanks to his enhancements.

"Starfleet is going to be very happy to get their hands on you,"
Bashir managed as the Cardassian fought back. Bashir held on, but his
illness had drained him of some of his usual strength.

"Get off of me!" Dukat ordered.

"You're not getting away this time!" Bashir promised.

Dukat managed to half sit up and shove Bashir aside long enough to hit
his combadge.

"Dukat to security! I need assistance in the infirmary!"

Bashir clambered to his feet and grabbed the Cardassian, shoving him
up against the wall. Dukat pushed back, but Bashir held his ground,
gritting his teeth.

"Computer, activate EMH!" Dukat managed, struggling against the arm
Bashir had pinned against his throat.

"Belay that order!" Bashir snapped.

Dukat managed to shove Bashir aside, but the doctor grabbed the
Cardassian's arms, bringing his knee up into the other man's stomach.
The Cardassian heaved, doubling over and Bashir raised his arms,
bringing his hands together in a fist, and was about to bring them
down on the back of Dukat's head when he felt a phaser beam slamming
into his back. He jerked, then collapsed to the floor. He managed to
struggle onto his arms before a hand held him down and he was looking
up into Michael Eddington's angry face.

"Just what the hell is going on here?"

---

The small infirmary was packed. Dax stood with Sisko and Bareil,
bouncing Renzia gently in her arms. Admiral Dukat was sitting
patiently on an exam bed while the EMH treated him. He was surrounded
by his wife and his two daughters, Commander Kira and Ziyal. Commander
Eddington and one of his officers were standing slightly off to one
side, and the displeasure was plain on Eddington's face.

Dax looked up when the doors to Bashir's room hissed open and Tarses
stepped out. He hadn't yet slept; she could see that. He looked tired,
but, true to the Vulcan half of his nature, it didn't seem to be
bothering him.

"How's Julian?" Sisko demanded.

"Sleeping," Tarses replied. "I've sedated him. Doctor, how is the
Admiral?"

"I'm fine," Dukat assured them.

The EMH sighed.

"Self diagnosis, my favorite. But this time, you're right. He's fine."

"Admiral, I am so sorry," Dax started, but Dukat held up a hand,
shaking his head.

"Hardly your fault, Commander, and no harm done. The doctor surprised
me more than he hurt me." He looked over at the security officers. "I
don't intend to press charges, Mister Eddington, so you have no reason
to remain."

"Skrain–" his wife began.

Quickly, Dukat held up a hand. "No, Meru, please don't argue."

"He attacked you!" Meru protested.

"Julian has an extremely high fever," Tarses said. "In this condition,
humans are often prone to hallucinations. I have no doubt Julian
wouldn't have done this under normal circumstances."

"I understand, Doctor. I've been head of Starfleet security in this
sector for a long time. Believe me, I've seen more than my share of
ill or injured officers. I know what sorts of things it can do to a
person's mind. Cardassians are lucky; we're less prone to that.
Vulcans, too."

Tarses gave a slight nod and Dukat looked back at the security
officers who, ultimately, answered to him.

"Your services are no longer needed, gentlemen, thank you."

Glowering, Eddington gestured to his lieutenant and they left
together.

"Father, are you sure you're all right?" Ziyal asked.

Dukat nodded.

"Believe me, Ziyal, Nerys did more damage to me playing springball."

"That is true," the EMH confirmed. "And you're free to go, Admiral. No
springball for three days, and no fist fights with other Starfleet
officers."

"I'll stay away from the springball court," the Admiral said with a
smirk. "I make no promises otherwise."

"Come on, Father," Kira sighed, then glanced at the EMH. "I'll keep
him out of trouble," she promised.

She nodded at Dax on the way out, and, to the Trill's relief, there
seemed to be no animosity in her face. Dukat even smiled and inclined
his head at her, but Dax had long ago grown used to the respect paid
to her by the Cardassians. It was the legacy left to her by Curzon.

Tarses turned to the EMH.

"Barring any other attacks, I will be back later this evening."

"Fine," the EMH agreed.

"Captain, Commander," Tarses said on his way out.

Once he was gone, Dax leaned against the wall, sighing. Sisko took
Renzia from her arms and grinned at her, bouncing her slightly.

"Are you all right, old man?"

Dax closed her eyes, rubbing them.

"I can't believe Jules attacked Admiral Dukat," she muttered. "He's
never hurt anyone before."

Sisko shifted the baby and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Like Simon said, he has a very high fever."

"But to think that Dukat was an enemy? He's Nerys' father! He's been
to the station dozens of times and Julian's met him!" she protested
wearily.

"I know you remember the hallucinations you had when Joran's memories
were surfacing."

"Don't remind me," Dax sighed, pushing herself away from the wall. "I
thought Julian was institute security. And that you were trying to
cheat me."

"And if you could think Julian was out to hurt you, it isn't so much
of a stretch to understand why his brain picked Dukat at random. Who
knows, Jadzia? Dukat was an unfamiliar presence in Julian's infirmary.
Maybe right now, that's all his mind needed."

"You're probably right. As usual."

He grinned at her.

"Curzon hated when I was right," he said.

"I remember," she replied.

"Come on, let's go. Julian needs to sleep. And you need to rest, too."

Dax nodded and they left the infirmary together, Sisko still carrying
Renzia. He tickled her under the chin and grinned broadly when she
smiled toothlessly at him.

"Want me to watch her for you?" he asked.

"No, I don't need sleep," Dax said.

"Then come over for awhile," Sisko said. "I'm not on duty until third
shift, and I know you aren't either."

"All right," she agreed, relieved. She hadn't wanted to be alone, not
after what had just happened. She had never expected Bashir to lash
out, fever or not.

The promenade, bustling at this time of the morning, went dark
suddenly. Dax tensed and looked up, although it was a gesture of
futility. She could hear the confused murmurs from the crowd around
her.

"Now what?" Sisko demanded.

Dax tapped her combadge and it gave the deadened chirp that told her
it wasn't being picked up by anything.

"Dax to Ops," she tried anyway.

"Sisko to Ops!" Sisko tried. Then: "Dammit!"

The lights came back as suddenly as they'd gone out, illuminating the
confused promenade patrons who were looking around and wincing in the
abrupt brightness.

"Sisko to Ops," the captain tried again.

"O'Brien here."

"Commander, what the hell is going on?" he demanded.

"We had some sort of station-wide power drain," O'Brien replied.
"We're working on locating the source, sir."

"I'll be right up," Sisko said grimly. "Sisko out." He turned to Dax,
shifting the baby into her arms. "Sorry about this."

"It's all right, Benjamin. I'll see you later."

"I'll stop in once we've resolved this, if I have time."

Dax chuckled, raising an eyebrow.

"Aren't several Federation ambassadors due in this afternoon?"

Sisko groaned.

"Don't remind me; I have enough on my plate as it is. And Legate Garak
and First Minister Shakar will be arriving tomorrow morning. At least
I know Shakar will be a breath of fresh air among all the other
diplomats."

"Admiral Dukat always speaks highly of Legate Garak," Dax pointed out,
shifting her daughter in her arms.

"I know. I hope I can trust the admiral's judgment. I'd better go.
I'll see you later."

"Right," Dax said, nodding. Sisko hurried to the nearest turbolift,
leaving the Trill woman standing at the edge of the crowd on the
promenade, which was now moving again, the power drain mostly
forgotten. She herself wondered what it was and experienced a moment's
frustration. She should be up there helping figure it out, not
standing here, having just learned her sick husband had attacked an
admiral.

All right, Dax, she thought, You've been through inconveniences
before. There's nothing you can do about it. Go home.

She returned to her quarters, which seemed bigger and emptier without
Bashir's presence to fill them up. Ignoring this as best she could,
Dax fed her daughter and put her to bed in her crib, then set to work
taking care of household chores that needed to be done, as much to
distract herself as to accomplish anything. It seemed too quiet now,
in a way it never did when she was here and Bashir was on duty. He was
in exactly the same place he would be were he on duty, but the reality
weighed heavily on Dax's mind. She was having trouble coming to terms
with the fact that Bashir had attacked someone. It wasn't like him to
come up with such bizarre fantasies, let alone to act on them.

---

Her daughter was awake again before Dax knew it, so lost had she been
for two hours in her private thoughts. She got the baby up, changed
her, and was heading back into the living room when the door chimed,
startling her slightly.

"Come in!" she called.

The door hissed open and Kira stepped over the threshold, holding a
PADD in her hand.

"Nerys," Dax said in surprise.

"How are you?" the commander asked.

"I'm fine," Dax replied. "I am so sorry about–"

Kira cut her off with a shake of her head.

"It wasn't your fault, and my father doesn't blame Julian. He's sick,
Jadzia. My father's a tough man, too. Believe me, I did more damage to
him than Julian did."

Dax sighed, sinking onto the couch with her daughter.

"I feel awful," she said.

"Why?" Kira asked, crossing the room and sitting down in the chair
beside Dax. "Oh, come here, you," she said to Renzia, putting the PADD
down on the table and taking the baby. The infant gurgled, her tiny
face splitting into a grin as Kira held her up carefully. "Hello,
darling. Aren't you beautiful today?" She shifted Renzia so that the
baby was resting on her lap and picked up a toy from the floor. The
baby grabbed at it and Kira laughed, jiggling it gently in front of
her. She looked back up at Dax then.

"It wasn't you who attacked my father," she said. "And I think it's
Eddington who's most upset. Believe me, my father's been through a lot
worse as a Starfleet security officer. And you can't be held
responsible for Julian's actions, even if he is your husband. Besides,
no harm done."

"Well, I'm glad you feel that way," Dax sighed.

"I do," Kira said emphatically. "And so does my father. Believe me,
I've known him long enough to know what he's like when he's angry.
Cardassians have a stubborn streak a kilometer wide."

"You're telling me?" Dax asked, smirking slightly.

"Exactly," Kira said. "So you understand."

"What's this?" Dax asked, picking up the PADD Kira had placed on the
table.

"Something we found when we were trying to figure out what drained the
station's power."

"What did cause that?"

"Miles thinks it has something to do with power fluctuations in the
station's core processing and output systems. Apparently, one of the
upgraded Starfleet systems stopped responding properly to its Alliance
interfaces."

"Why?" Dax asked.

Kira shrugged.

"Who knows?" she asked by way of reply. "I certainly can't explain why
our technologies aren't compatible. You'd have to ask Miles. At any
rate, it was an easy fix. But look at that."

Dax looked at the PADD.

"That's odd," she said.

"That's exactly what Miles said."

"When did this appear?"

"According to sensors, about two days ago. I'm not sure why we didn't
pick it up, except it is very faint."

"But it looks like it was moving." Dax protested.

"It seems that way," Kira agreed. "Although its staying on the edge of
the Bajoran system. I ran a quick analysis; it actually appears to be
orbiting the sun."

Dax raised her eyebrows.

"I've never heard of a subspace anomaly acting like that," she said.

"I hadn't either, but my subspace anomaly expertise is limited," Kira
replied. "Captain Sisko thought you might want to have a look at it.
So far, it doesn't seem to be threatening anything. We've checked to
make sure it isn't a cloaked Klingon ship, or anything like that. For
all we know, it's a natural phenomenon that's been occurring in this
system and we've never picked it up before. It is out past our Kipper
Belt."

"I see that. It's odd, though. The Bajoran system has always been
stable in terms of subspace. What if it's some sort of omega particle
disturbance?"

Kira shrugged.

"Wouldn't that be artificial?"

"It could be natural, but highly unlikely in normal space like this."

"I know there aren't any Bajoran scientists trying to create an omega
particle. The Alliance gave that up as a valid avenue of research long
before they even met the Federation."

"I remember," Dax murmured. "Well, I'll take a look at it tomorrow, if
I can find a babysitter for a few hours."

Kira grinned.

"I'll be getting ready for the arrival of Legate Garak and all the
other dignitaries, but I know Antos would love to watch her, if you
wanted."

"Would he?" Dax asked.

"He was in love with her from the moment he saw her," Kira replied,
smiling down at the baby and tickling her under the chin very lightly.
Renzia gurgled a happy gurgle and tried to stick two fingers in her
mouth.

"Well, if it isn't too much of a problem, that would be wonderful. And
I need to be there when the Legate arrives, I think."

"Senior staff, no exceptions. Well, except Julian."

Dax nodded.

"Just let me know when his confirmed arrival time, and I'll be there,"
she said.

"I'll do that. Now, how about you and this beautiful young woman
joining Antos and I for a late lunch?"

Dax smiled widely.

"I'd love to," she replied.

---

Dax slipped into the quiet infirmary room, pausing a moment for her
eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. Bashir was asleep on the bed, on
his back. He had even more red spots covering his face and hands, but
Tarses had assured her that was a normal symptom and the welts would
not scar.

She approached the bed softly; the ability to tiptoe had developed
when she'd had her first child, all those lifetimes ago. In her arms,
Renzia squirmed and waved her small hands at nothing. It must have
been the baby, Dax thought later, because she had been moving so
silently that even Bashir's genetically enhanced hearing shouldn't
have picked her up. His eyes fluttered open and he groaned, turning
his head toward her.

"Hi," she whispered, sitting down on the chair beside his bed, easily
adjusting her daughter's weight in her arms.

"Zia, hi," Bashir replied. His voice was stronger today, but still
much weaker than it should be. "Where's Worf?"

Dax frowned.

"Worf? What's a worf?"

Bashir stared at her in confusion, then shook his head.

"Probably something I was dreaming," he sighed. He raised the head of
his bed slightly, and his pale, tired face melted into a smile when he
saw his baby. Dax helped shift Renzia into his arms and the infant
broke into a bright smile upon seeing her father.

"She'll be okay?" he asked.

Dax nodded.

"Simon said she probably couldn't catch it, and he vaccinated her just
to be on the safe side."

Bashir sighed.

"I miss her. Maybe I can convince Simon to let me go home and
recover."

"Oh no!" Dax protested. "I'm a science officer, not a doctor. I'm not
nursing you back to health, taking care of Renzi and dealing with all
the preparations."

"Wasn't there something in our vows about 'in sickness and in
health'?"

"We have infirmaries for sick people, Jules," Dax said tartly. "You
aren't leaving until Simon gives the okay without being pressured."

Bashir gave a dramatic sigh.

"Of all the people I could have married, it would have to be a three
hundred year old Trill with an ego the size of Bajor."

"Hah!" Dax snapped, but did so smiling. "And who else would have had
you?"

"I don't know. What about that dancer? The French one?"

"She never would have given you the time of day, my love," Dax
replied, running a hand through his damp and slightly greasy hair.
"You need a shower. Or a bath."

He gave her a wicked grin.

"A sponge bath is usually appropriate for someone in my condition."

"Simon's job, not mine," Dax said. "Or one of your nurses."

Bashir sat the baby up on his chest, taking care to support her head.
The infant gurgled at him and he stared back, a faint frown on his
face, his eyes distant. Dax watched him carefully, worried he was
weakening and might drop their daughter, but then he turned to her, a
guarded, uncertain expression touching his features.

"Tell me something," he said.

"Yes?" she asked.

"Did I have a dream about attacking Admiral Dukat, or did that really
happen?"

Dax sat back in her chair slightly and Bashir groaned. Renzia waved
her hands at him vaguely.

"I did, didn't I?"

"You were hallucinating, Jules," Dax said patiently. "And you didn't
hurt him."

Bashir closed his eyes and leaned his head back.

"I thought it was only a dream..." he muttered. "What the hell was I
thinking?"

"You may have been thinking that pink fairies were giving you orders,
Julian," Dax said. "You're sick. Your fever was higher yesterday than
it was today. It's no wonder you were delusional."

He opened one eye, regarding her.

"All these genetic enhancements are supposed to help guard against
that kind of thing," he muttered.

Dax leaned forward, putting one arm on the bed, resting her weight on
it.

"Enhancements or not, my dear, you are still human. Humans get sick.
Everyone gets sick. And there wasn't any harm done. The admiral said
you startled him more than hurt him, and Nerys assures me he's fine."

Bashir opened his other eye, sighing.

"Speaking of everyone getting sick, Captain Sisko talked to your
parents earlier this morning."

Bashir's eyebrows went up in surprise.

"He did?"

Dax nodded.

"Your mother said that you did have the chicken pox, when you were
four."

Bashir frowned.

"Before I was enhanced. That would explain why I don't remember it.
But that doesn't explain why I have it now."

"Like I said, I'm a science officer, not a doctor. Simon said he'd
look into it, but suggested maybe your enhancements wiped out the
immunity effects from the first time you had it."

"Does anyone else on board have it?" he asked.

Dax shook her head.

"No, but that doesn't mean anything. On a station this size, this
busy, Jules, you could have picked it up from anyone passing through."

Bashir sighed, then rubbed his eyes with one hand, taking care to keep
his hold on his daughter.

"Now, I need to go, because Legate Garak will be here in less than an
hour, and First Minister Shakar is arriving later this afternoon."

"Garak. . . " Bashir muttered, almost to himself.

"What about him?"

Bashir shook his head and the twinge of confusion that had touched the
edges of his eyes and the corners of his lips vanished.

"Nothing," he said. "Here."

He handed Renzia back to her mother, who settled her against her
shoulder. Dax leaned down and placed a kiss on Bashir's
warmer-than-normal lips.

"I'll come by later," she promised.

Bashir gave her a wry, tired look.

"I'm not going anywhere," he sighed.

"Benjamin says your orders are to get better so you're on your feet
when the Trisepat gets here."

A smile twitched momentarily on the doctor's pale lips.

"I wouldn't miss that for the galaxy," he said.

---

Lieutenant Commander Jadzia Dax resisted shifting her position
uncomfortably and forced herself to remain relaxed and smiling. It was
rare that she felt so fidgety, but right now, there was no place she'd
rather not be than right here, waiting outside an airlock for the
Cardassian legate to arrive. Everyone else present, and that included
Sisko, O'Brien, Eddington Kira, Odo, and Admiral Dukat, seemed at
ease. Dax stole a glance at Sisko and wondered how he was faring; but
then, she realized, Jake was being released later that afternoon,
before First Minister Shakar arrived, and Tarses had said he was
making a remarkable recovery. Young and healthy, Dax thought. She
reminded herself that Bashir was young and healthy, too.

Nonetheless, she felt she could be spending time with her sick
husband, or their daughter, or in the science lab analyzing this
subspace disturbance orbiting Bajor's sun at the edge of the system.
She had only had time to run preliminary analyses, enough to know it
wasn't anything she'd seen before, at least not at first glance.

But now, she was getting the opportunity to meet Legate Garak. He'd
been to the station before, but that had been prior to it becoming an
official Starfleet outpost. She had never met him, and, of course,
he'd been only a child when Curzon had helped negotiate the merger of
the Alliance and the Federation. The legate back then, a man named
Letnar, had been hard but intelligent, willing to comprise but utterly
unwilling to let his people, or the Bajorans, be dragged into
something that would be detrimental to them. Dax had admired him
greatly, and had been saddened when he had died. The negotiators for
both sides had been more than Curzon had hoped for; they had actually
been willing to listen to one another. But then, it wasn't like
negotiating with the Klingons, who were more interested in conquest.
The Alliance had had a strong and fairly peaceful trading history with
the Federation.

She drew her shoulders back slightly, the easy, welcoming smile still
on her face as the airlock door rolled back. Two younger Cardassians
dressed in the traditional silvery-grey and black military uniforms
stepped out: one man and one woman. The Alliance military, of course,
had merged with Starfleet, but the legate's personal guard still wore
the old Cardassian uniforms.

The legate himself stepped out then, and Dax was surprised to find he
looked younger in person than in photographs, and much more pleasant.
He radiated an air of superior good humour, topped off by a small
smile on his lips and a glint in his pale eyes that suggested he knew
something no one else did, and that it was highly amusing. This wasn't
reflected in the eyes of his guards, who looked alert and suspicious.
With ease, Legate Garak stepped past them, toward Dukat.

"Skrain, my old friend!" Garak said, as, grinning, Dukat shook his
hand warmly.

"Elim. It's been too long."

"Indeed it has. How is that lovely wife of yours?"

"She's looking forward to seeing you," Dukat replied with a smile.

Garak turned to Sisko, who nodded.

"Ah, you must be Captain Sisko. The Emissary of the Prophets, if I'm
not mistaken."

Dax knew that Sisko was much more comfortable in that roll now than he
had been when it had been thrust upon him – it was disconcerting, to
say the least, to see the man she'd always known suddenly become a
religious figure for billions of Bajorans and Cardassians. While most
Bajorans were believers in the Prophets, not all Cardassians embraced
the religion. But had been pervasive enough in Cardassian culture
before the wormhole had been discovered. Afterwards, there had been a
drastic increase in the number of Cardassian followers. Garak was
among the Cardassians who wore the traditional Bajoran earring, as was
Dukat.

"Legate, it's an honour to meet you," Sisko said. "May I present the
station's senior staff? My staff: Commander Kira Nerys, my first
officer, Commander Miles O'Brien, my chief of operations, Commander
Dax, my chief science officer, and Commander Eddington, my chief of
security. And this is head supervisor Odo, who the processing center
administrator."

Garak nodded at each one of them in turn, then looked back at Dax.

"It is an honour to finally meet Curzon Dax's successor," he said, and
shook her hand.

"Thank you," Dax said warmly. "Curzon was very proud of the work he
did with the Alliance."

"He had every right to be," Garak replied. "As do you." He turned back
to Sisko. "Captain, it's been a long journey, and I'd appreciate it if
you were to show my staff and I to our quarters."

"Of course," Sisko said, smiling. "Right this way."

He gestured to his left and Garak, his guards, Sisko, Dukat, and
Eddington all headed away, leaving Dax, Kira, and Odo standing near
the airlock. When they were out of sight, Kira let out a deep sigh and
leaned against one of the bulkheads. Odo looked toward the ceiling
wryly, then back down.

"Frankly, I don't understand why I need to show up at every greeting,"
he commented.

Kira crossed her arms loosely and gave him a sidelong glance.

"Because you head the ore processing center, which is the reason this
station exists in the first place. Believe me, Odo, I don't want to be
here any more than you do."

"Neither do I," Dax said with a smile.

"And it's just going to get worse over the next few days," Kira said.
"You know, when I joined Starfleet, I never thought most of my time
would be spent greeting dignitaries from all over the galaxy. I just
wanted to do something constructive for Bajor."

"And the wormhole and the trade with the Trisepat haven't been
constructive for Bajor?" Dax asked with a smile.

"I'm not saying it isn't," Kira replied. "It's just not what I was
expecting."

"I don't think it's what any of us had been expecting," Dax replied
with a smile. "Come on, I'll walk with you back to Ops."

"Right. I think we have a few hours before Shakar gets here anyway. I
might as well catch up on my paper work."

"Ha," Odo muttered under his breath. "Starfleet paperwork. It's a
wonder you people get anything done with all the reports you have to
file."

"We muddle through," Dax replied.

"Somehow," Kira added.

They reached the promenade, which was busier now than it had been the
day before. A lot of people were showing up at the station; many in
the Alpha Quadrant still hadn't met anyone from the Trisepat, and even
getting a glimpse of the Gamma Quadrant aliens was something to be
sought after.

"I'll leave you ladies here," Odo said.

"All right, but don't forget, coffee at seventeen hundred at the
Replimat, before the reception."

Odo rolled his eyes at the mention of the reception planned for Legate
Garak and First Minister Shakar, as well as whatever other diplomats
and ambassadors and representatives had already arrived.

"I'll be there," he promised.

"I'll bring Renzi," Dax said. "She loves you."

Odo gave her a rare smile.

"I'm glad," he said. "Say hello to Doctor Bashir for me, and wish him
well."

Dax nodded.

"I will."

The Changeling shouldered his way through the crowd and Dax and Kira
found the nearest turbolift. Mercifully, it was unoccupied save for
the two of them as they traveled up to Ops.

"How is Julian?"

"Better," Dax said. "Not much, but a bit. Jake's getting out this
afternoon, too."

"Oh, good," Kira replied with relief in her voice. "And how's the
analysis of that anomaly?"

Dax shook her head.

"If I could get a minute in between introductions to all these
political types, I'd be able to tell you something. As it stands, I
don't know what it is. It doesn't look like anything on record, but
I've barely had a chance to look at it."

"Well, do your best. It doesn't seem to be in a hurry to do anything
but orbit the sun, so maybe it will wait until after the Trisepat have
come and gone."

"I can only hope," Dax replied, shaking her head, giving Kira a rueful
smile. The Commander grinned back.

"Just think of this," she said, gesturing around them, to indicate the
coming days, not the turbolift, "As a great adventure."

"I'll do my best," Dax replied with a smile as they stepped from the
turbolift into Ops.

---

An hour later, she hadn't made much progress. The anomaly was like
nothing she'd ever seen, and the scans she was running at this
distance were giving her nothing but inconclusive results. The only
thing she had been able to determine with any degree of certainty is
that there was no chronoton activity in the anomaly; it was therefore
not a temporal disturbance. It seemed stable enough, for a subspace
anomaly, and didn't seem to be inclined to do anything but orbit the
sun.

"Commander, I can't do any more analyses from here," Dax said, looking
up and meeting Kira's gaze. "I need to take a shuttle out there and
study it at close range."

Kira nodded.

"All right, but not today. First Minister Shakar is going to be here
in just over an hour, and we enough traffic coming and going today as
it is."

Dax nodded. She had intended to ask to go the following day anyway.
Her shortened shift was just about finished, and she wanted to pick up
her daughter and make sure her husband was all right. She ran a final
scan, without much hope of getting anything.

For a mind numbing moment, she felt as if there were two of her,
standing in the same place, doing the same thing, thinking the same
thoughts, but bringing a slightly different point of view to the
problem. She looked down at her hands; they were indeed only one set
of hands, but they seemed different somehow, not quite hers. There was
a sickening moment of confusion, then it passed as suddenly as it had
come. Dax looked up sharply, but everyone else was focused on their
work, and had not seemed to notice anything. She did a quick scan of
the anomaly again, got no new readings, then ran a sweep of the
station, looking for anything unusual. Nothing showed up on internal
sensors.

With a sigh, Dax drummed her fingers on the console. Then she shook
her head, saved her work, and left to find Kai Bareil and her
daughter.

---

When Simon Tarses replaced the acerbic EMH the next morning, Bashir's
fever had gone down considerably and he was feeling much more alert
and more himself. Tarses released him on the condition he rest for two
more days, until he was fully recovered, and that he wait until Dax
could come and meet him to take him back to their quarters. It was
about an hour before she came, carrying Renzia in one arm and some
clothing for her husband in the other. Bashir changed gratefully out
of the infirmary pajamas. Dax wrapped an arm supportively under his
shoulders; he still felt weak and tired, but not nearly as bad as he
had only two days ago. The pox marks still blazed red on his skin, but
at least Tarses given him something to stop the itching.

They walked out into the bustling promenade, and Bashir was surprised
by the number of people who had shown up over the last couple of days.
Federation citizens, predominantly Bajorans and Cardassians, were
walking in groups, talking and laughing, and gawking at the station.
Bashir wondered how many more people Terok Nor could possibly hold
before they reached their limit. Even then, he was willing to bet
people would be staying on ships docked here. As if to prove him
right, he saw two people he recognized, but did not know, from the
Enterprise: her captain, Picard, and the chief medical officer,
Crusher. So the Federation's flagship was already here.

Two Cardassians walking together caught his attention. One was in a
Starfleet uniform, but the other was dressed in well tailored, richly
coloured clothing that merely hinted at how expensive it was. Bashir
frowned.

"Garak," he said.

Dax followed his gaze.

"Yes, he got here yesterday, before First Minister Shakar."

"What's he doing with Dukat? I thought they hated each other."

Dax turned to look at him.

"I'm not sure Simon should have released you," she said frankly. "You
seem to be hallucinating again."

Bashir shook his head, as if to clear it.

"I think my brain is a bit addled," he agreed.

"A bit?" Dax asked wryly, arching one dark eyebrow. In her arm, Renzia
started to fuss. "Come on, let's go home. I thought those enhancements
were supposed to augment the performance of your brain."

"So did I," Bashir agreed, giving her a small, sly smile. She shook
her head at him and led him away from the crowd, toward a turbolift.
As they passed under one of the upper promenade walkways, Bashir
raised his eyes, expecting to see Jake Sisko there. But of course, he
was probably in his father's quarters, resting, just as Bashir and
Tarses had instructed him to. It was unfortunate; had he had the day
off from the processing center, he would have loved to stand and watch
all these people mill about.

They made it home slowly; the corridors were almost as busy as the
promenade, filled with the faces of Starfleet officers Bashir had
never seen before. He watched for people he recognized, but didn't
think any of his old friends from the academy would be here, or at
least not yet. People gave him odd looks as they went past. He knew he
must be a bizarre sight: a bedraggled man with red welts all over his
face and hands, being supported by a young woman in a science uniform.

Their quarters was a peaceful, silent haven from the bustle in the
corridors. Bashir sank gratefully into a chair, and Dax handed him the
baby. Renzia met her father's eyes and smiled her wide, toothless baby
grin. Bashir fished on the floor for a toy and found a rattle, which
he held up for her.

"Gung, gung, gung," he said softly, shaking it for her, and she
laughed and reached for it.

"What?" Dax asked.

Bashir looked up.

"Nothing, just making noises. Do you have work to do today?"

"I can see if I can put it off," she replied.

"No, go," he said. "I'll be fine. I sleeps, she sleeps. We have a lot
in common."

"I'll see if Miles can come over–"

"Zia," Bashir said, smiling at her, raising his eyebrows. "I can take
care of my daughter."

"You're sick," Dax pointed out. "And this is–"

"I know, I know, she's my first child. And you've been a mother
before. And a father. And I'm sure you occasionally had to deal with
being sick when your children weren't."

Dax crossed her arms, leaning on the arm of the couch, but smiled at
him.

"There's a subspace anomaly orbiting the Bajoran sun. Benjamin and I
are going to take a run about and look at it. I can't get any concrete
readings scanning it from here."

"Any idea what it is?"

She shook her head.

"None."

"I'm surprised Captain Sisko's able to go."

Dax laughed.

"I think he was relieved to find out I needed to go. I'm sure the last
thing he wants to be doing right now is greeting more dignitaries.
This station is so packed with politicians; even when it came under
Starfleet jurisdiction, I don't think this many people were here."

"Much fewer," Bashir agreed.

"Are you sure you'll be all right?" she asked, coming to crouch down
in front of him. Renzia's eyes shifted to her mother and she waved one
hand. Absently, Dax let her daughter curl a tiny fist around her index
finger. With surprising strength, Renzia yanked it toward her mouth
and tried to chew on it. Dax pried herself loose and stroked the
baby's thin dark hair.

"I'll be fine," Bashir assured her. "If I need help, I'll call Miles,
or someone else if he's not available."

"All right," Dax relented. She leaned forward to kiss him and Bashir
returned the kiss, feeling like it was the first time they had ever
done this. Two days he had been ill, and already being at home with
his wife felt brand new again. He smiled as Dax pulled away.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing. I love you."

She kissed his forehead.

"I love you, too, Jules."

He caught her hand and kissed her palm as she stood up.

"I'm a lucky man," he said.

Dax's eyes sparkled as she looked down at him.

"You'd better remember that," she replied. "I'll see you in about four
hours."

"Have fun," he said as she walked back to the door. She tossed him a
grin over her shoulder and was gone. Bashir watched the door hiss shut
and turned his attention back to Renzia. "Now, what do with you?" he
asked. She grinned her baby grin and drooled on her chin. Bashir set
her on his lap, glanced around, picked up a thick, brightly coloured
book from the table beside him, and opened it to read to her. Bashir
took a nap when his daughter did, sleeping on the couch, Renzia
sprawled on his chest.

---

He awoke before she did, feeling even better. However he'd contracted
the chicken pox, it seemed his genetically enhanced immune system was
picking up and fighting back. For a rare moment, he was grateful that
his parents had done to him. It had given him distinct advantages, he
knew, but he had never expected that recovering quickly from a
children's illness would be one of them. At least, not at the age of
thirty-three.

He sat up carefully, making sure to support his daughter's small head,
and glanced around.

"Computer, time," he said quietly.

"The time is thirteen hundred twenty-two," the computer replied at
normal volume. Bashir winced, but Renzia didn't stir. He stood up,
balancing her easily, and went into his bedroom, putting her down
gently on the bed. Then he washed up, keeping one ear open for any
sounds from the baby. She was just waking up when he walked back into
the bedroom, so Bashir changed her and fed her, then wondered what he
was going to do. He felt bored, which he knew was a good sign about
his health. He had been cloistered in the infirmary for two days, with
Dax and Tarses as his only real company, unless he counted the EMH
that always drove him nuts. Sometimes, Bashir considered he should
have accepted the LMH of himself; at least he would get along with it.

He decided to head down to the promenade, knowing he'd probably regret
it later when exhaustion caught up with him. But the prospect of
sitting at home with only an infant for company was too much to face
right now. He strapped Renzia into her baby carrier, which she loved,
because she faced front and could see everything. Satisfied she was
secure, he headed out of the habitat ring, nodding at the officers he
recognized, which, at the moment, was only about half of them.

The promenade was just as a crowded as it had been when he had been
released from the infirmary. Bashir stood at the edge of the press of
bodies for a moment, just watching. There were already some people
from the Trisepat here, of course; trading ships came and went all of
the time. Bashir watched two tall female Gri'Thethi make their way
through the crowd with an easy grace. A Bajoran-looking woman caught
his eye as she shouldered her way past the shrine. Bashir recognized
her immediately; she was Tenas Lar, the only other Changeling who
lived on the station. She was a much more adept shape shifter than
Odo, having been found adrift almost seven hundred years ago. Unlike
Odo, she was much more social and interested in humanoid culture, and
was considered just as Bajoran as any other Bajoran by most people.
She vanished a moment later in the sea of faces.

Bashir headed toward where she had been, entering the sanctuary of the
shrine. It was empty, for which he was grateful; with this many
Bajorans and Cardassians on the station, it was usually occupied. Its
peaceful silence beckoned him, so much different than the silence of
his empty quarters. There, it was just boring; here, it was serene.
Renzia looked around, making baby sounds to herself, as Bashir walked
quietly toward the orb at the front of the room. He thought he
recognized it as the Orb of Contemplation, but he wasn't certain. Kira
or Bareil would know. He stared at it pensively for a moment, then
absently took one of his daughter's tiny hands. When he and Dax had
decided to have a baby, Kira had come here to say a prayer for them.
Bashir wasn't a believer in the prophets, but he was a doctor, and he
knew that any help in cross-species mating would be beneficial. He
wondered if the wormhole aliens actually listened to any requests
their followers made, or if they even knew they had followers.

A noise behind him distracted him and he spun quickly to see a
Cardassian man entering the shrine.

"Ah, Doctor, forgive me, I didn't mean to startle you," Dukat said.

Bashir felt his mouth go dry for a moment, and felt an inexplicable
need to get his daughter as far away from the admirable as possible.
Chastising himself sharply, he reined in his emotions and nodded at
Dukat.

"I think it's only fair, considering how much I startled you two days
ago."

The Cardassian chuckled a quiet, almost arrogant chuckle.

"Water under the bridge, Doctor."

Bashir nodded and headed toward the shrine's exit, leaving Dukat alone
to his prayers or meditation. He emerged onto the promenade again,
glancing around, then frowned, standing still. Renzia kicked her small
legs and waved her arms, distracting him slightly. Bashir studied the
crowd intently, then realized with a start what was missing.

There wasn't a single Romulan to be seen.

He stepped down one of the steps leading into the shrine, then paused
again.

What the hell was a Romulan?

He suddenly had a very vivid image of a race of people related to
Vulcans, but with harsher features and attitudes. Bashir blinked, then
shook his head, sighing to himself. His mind was still playing tricks
on him. He probably needed nothing more than to return home and rest.
Suddenly, coming to the promenade seemed like a bad idea.

"Hi, Julian," a voice said next to him and he looked round to see Ezri
Reth. Bashir's face relaxed into a smile.

"Ezri, hi."

"How are you feeling? You look much better."

"I'm getting there," Bashir replied wryly. "Although my brain is still
porridge. I keep coming up with ridiculous ideas that have no bearing
to reality."

Ezri laughed. Renzia, aware of a new person, make noises of
protestation from her baby carrier.

"Oh, all right," Bashir conceded. "Would you like to hold her? I think
she's aiming for that."

"Sure," Reth agreed and Bashir lifted the baby out of the carrier and
handed her to the counselor. He took the carrier off and slung it over
one shoulder. They stepped into the crowds together.

"So, what kind of things is that genetically enhanced mind coming up
with?" Reth asked.

"I just invented an entire race of people and wondered why they
weren't here."

Reth laughed again, shaking her head.

"Did they have a name, this mystery race?"

"Romulans."

Reth raised a dark brow.

"Romulans? That's inventive."

"Not really," Bashir said dryly. "Romulus was one of the two founders
of Rome, which is a city on Earth and the capital of one of Earth's
ancient empires."

"Yes, and how many people on this station just happen to know that?"
Reth asked. "I didn't. It's inventive to me that you'd base a whole
race off of one possibly historic figure from Earth. What did these
Romulans look like?"

"Angry Vulcans."

Reth grinned at him.

"I sense a deep-seated resentment of Vulcans and a need to vilify them
without expressly indicating that it's them."

Bashir rolled his eyes.

"Right, I hate all Vulcans. I sense the mind of a man who's still
sick, and a counselor who likes to make up problems."

Reth laughed.

"On this station, I don't need to make them up. I never knew there
were so many crazy people in the galaxy."

"Me included?" Bashir asked.

"Of course," she replied smoothly.

"Well I hardly think it's fair–" Bashir was abruptly cut off by a
tall, imposing figure pushing brusquely past them, jostling Ezri and
Renzia, causing the baby to start crying.

"Hey!" Bashir snapped, reaching out automatically to grab an arm and
spin the stranger around. He was confronted by a looming Klingon man
accompanied by a tall, stately Klingon woman. The Klingon man's eyes
narrowed, drawing his already prominent brows together.

"What?" he rumbled.

"Watch where you're going!" Bashir snapped. "She's carrying a baby!"

"Perhaps she should watch where she's going," the Klingon replied, his
voice low and taut.

"She wasn't in the way," Bashir retorted. "You could easily have
moved."

The Klingon swung , but Bashir reacted faster, catching the man's arm
and pulling him into the direction of the blow. Bracing himself, the
doctor heaved, using reserves of strength he rarely ever called up,
and flipped the Klingon over his back, onto the floor. Stunned, the
Klingon landed on his back and Bashir was kneeling on his chest
immediately, nose to nose with the alien.

"That's my daughter you hit," he hissed. "And Ezri is my friend."

He became aware of a shocked silence around him, then a rich,
appreciative laughter rang out. The Klingon woman said something in
her own language, to which the Klingon man growled a reply. Shocked at
himself, Bashir pushed himself to his feet and saw the Klingon woman
grinning approvingly at him.

"There are not many humans who would dare to do that, let alone
succeed," she said. "Get up, Worf."

Bashir was jarred by the memory of the name; he'd said that same name
to Dax just the day before. But his shock over that was subsumed by
his shock at his actions. The Klingon man pushed himself to his feet
and gave the doctor an approving nod before turning and walking away
with the woman. Bashir turned back to Reth, who had one hand over her
mouth and was, amazingly, trying not to laugh. Bashir looked around,
saw the stunned onlookers, and grabbed one of Reth's arms, towing her
out of the way, into the relative security of a support pillar.

"What?" he hissed.

Reth's blue eyes were glinting.

"I had no idea you knew so much about Klingons," she whispered. "Do
you know who that was?"

"I don't know anything about Klingons!" Bashir replied. "I have no
idea who that was!"

"That was Worf, son of Mohg. The woman with him was his wife, Trelke,
daughter of Kena. She's the Klingon ambassador to the Federation and
the Trisepat. Klingons set great store by their ability to stand up to
any kind of adversity. You really impressed them."

Bashir sagged against the wall.

"I didn't know that," he muttered. "I just– no, I did know that. Or I
felt like I knew it."

Reth took his arm gently.

"Come on, Julian. You've been in enough altercations to last you
awhile. You're still sick. You need to get back to your quarters."

Shaking his head at himself, Bashir fell into step beside her, too
bewildered to protest.

---

"What do you think, old man?"

Dax studied the readings on her console, then shook her head.

"It seems pretty boring, as far as subspace anomalies go, Benjamin,"
she admitted.

"I can't even see it." Sisko sounded disappointed.

Dax laughed.

"What did you expect to see, Benjamin?" she asked.

"I don't know." Sisko waved one hand vaguely. "Something… blue."

"Blue," Dax repeated, arching one eyebrow. "Interesting. Well, it's
not giving off any radiation as far as I can tell. I'm getting the
same readings I was getting on the station, which is nothing. No
chronotons, no tachyons, not even normal background radiation."

"Well, that's odd, isn't it?"

"It is," Dax agreed. "Let's get in a bit closer so I can do a detailed
sensor sweep."

"Taking us to fifty thousand kilometers," Sisko agreed. Dax inputted
the scan details into the computer and waiting as the shuttle
approached the coordinates. It slowed again, and she initiated the
scan.

"Now I'm picking up trace amounts of some sort of radiation. The
computer can't seem to identify it. It's almost as if it's leaking
from the anomaly, Benjamin."

"Like it's coming out the other side?" Sisko asked.

"Precisely."

"Could we be seeing the formation of another wormhole?"

Dax shook her head.

"I doubt it. I see no evidence of verteron nodes, or any of the
neutrino patterns that characterize our wormhole. And the radiation
coming through isn't the normal background radiation for the Alpha,
Beta, or Gamma Quadrants."

"What about the Delta Quadrant?"

"Well, I suppose that were possible, but again, it doesn't look like a
wormhole."

"It isn't a Borg transwarp tunnel, is it?"

"If it is, we're in for a huge surprise. It doesn't have a transwarp
signature, though. I don't suppose the Trisepat have any transwarp
technology we're not aware of and are building a tunnel here?"

"If they do, we're not aware of it," Sisko pointed out. Dax rolled her
eyes at him.

"Let's get in a little closer," she said. "I can do a better
gravometric analysis."

"All right," Sisko agreed and brought the shuttle closer.

"Initiating gravometric scan."

"How's Julian?"

"He's doing much better, he's–"

The words were lost suddenly as a jarring sensation of displacement
hit her. It was the same feeling she'd had the other day in Ops, the
certainty that there were two of her, in the same spot, only somewhat
different, as if someone had held up a slightly warped mirror that
showed a not-quite accurate reflection of herself. She felt different
emotions, different memories on the edge of her mind. Moving as if
through syrup, she looked over at Sisko, was looking just as stunned
as she felt. For a moment, he blurred, and appeared in a different
uniform, a black jacket with grey shoulders, and a red mock turtleneck
underneath. And no hair. That Sisko's image turned to her, his dark
eyes widening in surprise.

"Get us out of here, Benjamin," she managed to say, hoping the
Benjamin who came with her was the right one. She saw him move, but
slowly, then the shuttle began to move backwards and whatever had
ahold of them vanished. Dax gasped, hearing Sisko echo her, and sat
back in her seat.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded.

Dax shook her head.

"I think we may have found an interdimensional rip," she replied.

"Into what?"

She turned her head, meeting his eyes.

"Another universe."

---

When Dax arrived home, Bashir was waiting for her. Renzia was sleeping
again, and he had been enjoying a cup of tea and catching up on some
of his leisure reading when his wife stepped through the doorway. He
put his cup aside immediately and rose quickly, shocked by the
stunned, tired look on her face.

"Zia?" he asked.

She crossed the room, took his face and kissed him hard. Bashir was
caught off guard for a moment, then wrapped his arms around her and
kissed back. When she pulled away from him, he caught her face in his
hands.

"What's the matter?"

"Benjamin and I think we've figured out what that anomaly is," she
said.

"What?"

"An interdimensional rip into another universe."

Bashir's eyebrows shot up. Dax sat down, raising her blue eyes to meet
his dark ones. Bashir sat down beside her quickly, blinking away the
spots in front of his eyes. He had risen then sat down too quickly for
his still-sick body's comfort.

"Really?" he asked.

Dax nodded.

"Jules, it was so– strange. I've never, ever experienced anything like
that before."

He took one of her hands.

"What happened?"

"I felt like there were two of me, superimposed on the same spot. Two
Jadzia Daxs. And believe me, that's a weird feeling, even for a joined
Trill." She paused, sighing. "I could almost remember the memories of
this other Jadzia. And there were two Benjamins. I remember that. I
could see him, I mean, the other Benjamin, as if he had been sitting
beside me."

"What did he look like? Our Sisko?"

Dax pursed her lips, shaking her head.

"No," she said slowly. "I remember I saw it clearly then, but I'm
having troubles remembering it now. The uniform was different, and he
had no hair. I think."

"No hair?"

Dax nodded. Bashir raised his eyebrows again.

"Any idea what caused this rip?"

Dax shook her head.

"Not yet, but for all we know, it could have been there for millennia
before we spotted it. But now I've got some data on it, and I can get
a better idea of its orbit. That might give us some answers."

"Is there any way to go through it?"

"I don't know," she replied, squeezing his hand. "I'm not sure I'd
want to."

"You're not curious about this other Jadzia?"

She gave him a sidelong look.

"Yes," she replied. "But what if she's so different from me as to be
unrecognizable to me? What if she made choices that would horrify me?
For all I know, Jules, she never met or married you. Or she's dead."

Bashir felt a tight twist in his stomach. He couldn't imagine not ever
having met Dax, having lived his whole life without her, or knowing
her and not being married to her. The idea unsettled him so much it
must have shown on his face, because Dax put a hand on his cheek and
turned his face toward hers.

"This is my universe, Julian," she said. "Whatever happens in that one
only happens there."

Bashir nodded.

"You're looking better," she commented.

"And you're changing the subject," he replied.

She smiled.

"Yes, I am. I'd rather talk about things happening here, at least
right now."

"Well, I may look better, but my brain isn't yet," he replied wryly,
then told her about inventing a whole race of people on the promenade,
to which she laughed. He also told her about the encounter with the
Klingon, because if he didn't, Sisko would, and she'd be furious with
him. Her eyes widened at that story.

"You took on a Klingon?" she asked when he was finished.

"I wasn't really thinking," he admitted.

"I'll say." She rose and then leaned down to kiss his forehead. "Were
Renzi and Ezri all right?"

"Just fine," he replied.

"Even after all these years, Julian Bashir, you still manage to
surprise me sometimes."

"Good," he said with a smile.

---

Bashir lay awake well after Dax had gone to sleep, listening to the
sound of her breathing next to him, to the faint hum of the station's
life support system, to the sounds of his daughter's breathing in the
next room. He gazed blankly through the darkness at the ceiling, the
cold Cardassian architecture that joined the walls, bleak grey on
grey.

He thought about this other universe Dax and Sisko had discovered. He
wondered if there was another Julian Bashir over there, and, if so,
what he was like. Dax didn't seem particularly interested in her
alternate self, but Bashir knew that it was more the shock of the
discovery. For his own part, he was immensely curious. Was this other
Bashir genetically enhanced as well? Had he and Dax been married as
long, were they married at all? Again, that thought made him uneasy.
If they hadn't married, there would be no Renzia, and Bashir couldn't
imagine a life without his daughter. What would occupy this other
Bashir's life? Was it full of family, friends. . .

Romulans?

He sat up quickly, dragging the blankets with him halfway so that
Dax's shoulders were exposed, but she didn't stir. He looked down at
her, not really seeing his wife, but thinking hard.

Had he really made up those Romulans, or did they exist somewhere?

"Zia," he whispered in the darkness. "Jadzia."

She stirred, then began to sit up automatically.

"I'll get her," Dax muttered sleepily and Bashir put a hand on her
shoulder, shaking his head.

"No," he whispered. "Renzi's still asleep. I need to ask you
something."

She peered at him blearily.

"Can't it wait until morning? You should be sleeping, too."

"It probably could, but then I couldn't sleep. Do you think that
interdimensional rip could be affecting this station?"

Dax blinked tiredly at him.

"What? Why?"

"Think of all the strange things that have been happening on this
station. The explosion in ore processing, me getting sick, the power
drain we had the other day."

Dax sat up, adjusting the blankets over her knees. Her long hair hung
loosely over her shoulders, spilling down her back and across her
arms, and Bashir thought she never looked as beautiful as she did when
her hair was down.

"I suppose it's possible," she conceded, starting to wake up now, as
she always did when she was talking about a scientific problem. "But I
don't think the anomaly's come anywhere near here. It looks like it's
in a stable orbit. I don't see why it would be affecting Terok Nor and
not any of the planets or moons in the system."

"What if it's just me?" he asked.

"You?"

"Well, what if those Romulans I imagined aren't just imaginary? What
if they exist over there? And the Klingon I attacked today, Worf. Do
you remember the other day in the infirmary when I asked you were Worf
was? I didn't know who he was then, but maybe the Julian over there
does know him."

Dax blinked.

"But, Jules, why you?" she asked. "You're not a telepath, or sensitive
to telepathic influences."

"I am genetically enhanced," he pointed out.

"Somehow, I don't think that would get an anomaly's attention," Dax
replied. "But you may be onto something with the things that have been
happening on the station. I'll look into it tomorrow."

Bashir smiled at her.

"Thank you. I should be able to sleep now."

Dax grinned wickedly and reached for him.

"Oh, no, you won't," she promised.

---

When Bashir awoke the next morning, Dax was already gone, but he had a
vague memory of her waking him up to kiss him goodbye. He groaned,
rolling out of bed, then pushing himself to his feet to check on his
daughter. She had woken up four times during the night, and he felt
worn out from it. Not to mention that Dax had kept him up, but that
hadn't been so bad. He grinned to himself. It hadn't been bad at all.

He hurried and washed up during the few precious minutes he had before
his daughter woke up, and was just pulling on his uniform, more out of
habit than necessity, when Renzia woke up. He rescued her from her
crib, changed her and was feeing her when the door chime sounded.

"Come in!" he called and was greeted by the sight of O'Brien with
Kirayoshi in his arms. Bashir's face relaxed into a smile.

"Miles, hello," he said.

"Thought you might want to join me for breakfast," the commander said.
"Molly's in school, and Keiko hasn't gotten back from that botanical
survey on Bajor Eight, so it's just me and Yoshi."

"The lament of fatherhood," Bashir said with a grin. "We'd love to
come. Replimat?"

"Where else?"

They made their way down to the replimat, and Bashir was certain that
the promenade was even busier than it had been the day before. He said
as much to O'Brien, who laughed mirthlessly.

"Tell me about it," O'Brien agreed. "Last night, just before I
finished my shift, we got a communiqué from Starfleet Command. It
turns out some genius bumped up a deep space mission without thinking
about the Trisepat coming here. Now we have the Voyager on her way
through to the Gamma Quadrant."

"The Voyager?" Bashir asked as they sat down at one of the few empty
tables. Beside them was a female Gri'Thethi was eating with a male
Hendulu and a female Kbsai. Bashir watched them surreptitiously for a
moment; the Gri'Thethi and the Hendulu were two of the three founding
races of the Trisepat, and the Kbsai had been the fourth race to join.
Bashir scanned the area quickly; he didn't see any Shifters. It didn't
mean there weren't any around. Like the Changelings, they could assume
any form they wanted, but unlike Odo's people, they were limited to
humanoid forms. They could be taking any shape, Bashir knew, but they
tended to stick with their own base form when visiting other places.

"Sure, you remember, don't you? It came through here a few years ago.
It's a deep space exploratory ship, and the crew was doing some
studies in the Badlands. Captain Janeberg, or something."

"Janeway," Bashir corrected as O'Brien settled Kirayoshi in a chair
and rose to go to the replicators.

"What do you want?" O'Brien asked.

"Scones and jam, and Tarkelian tea," Bashir replied. O'Brien returned
a moment later with a tray loaded down with food and gave his son the
first plate. Immediately, Kirayoshi dug into it, eating with gusto and
using only his hands. Bashir accepted his breakfast gratefully.

"That's right," O'Brien said. "Janeway."

"I thought they were already on a deep space mission," Bashir said,
confused. "Weren't they– Weren't they headed for the Delta Quadrant?"

O'Brien laughed, raising his coffee cup to his lips.

"Whatever Simon's giving you, it must be good," he said. "You're
thinking of the Kejada and the Tre'sov. The Voyager was doing some
Beta Quadrant exploration, but they've been back for six months,
according to the information we received last night. Now they're
headed for the Gamma Quadrant."

"Good timing," Bashir commented wryly.

"You're telling me. Kira was one unhappy ex-oh last night. I'm glad
I'm not on duty when she tells Sisko."

"Hopefully they can detour to Deep Space Eight instead."

"Here's hoping," O'Brien agreed.

Bashir grinned over his mug, then set it down to adjust his grip on
his daughter. Looking up, he caught the eye of the Gri'Thethi woman,
nodded at her, then something else snagged his attention. He frowned,
gazing through the crowd at a civilian man who was watching him
intently. He looked instantly familiar, but Bashir couldn't place him.
Something about his rugged face and cold eyes stood out in Bashir's
memory, but he was certain he'd never seen the man before. But it was
as if the other man knew the doctor, the way he was glaring…

Bashir saw the Gri'Thethi woman follow his gaze, and saw her rise, as
if in slow motion. Her two companions stood half a second after she
did, turning in the direction of the man, who looked startled and
began to move away. The Hendulu made a quick gesture with his wrist at
the same time that the Gri'Thethi said:

"That man is a spy."

She did not speak loudly, or with much emphasis, but it seemed
everyone on the promenade had heard her. The murmur of conversation
vanished, and heads began to turn, in the direction of the man and of
the Trisepat citizens.

"Sloan," Bashir whispered, then realized he was standing.

"You know him?" O'Brien demanded.

The man, Sloan, was struggling against the Hendulu's telekinetic grip
but failing.

"No. Yes. I don't know. But he knows me." Bashir replied in a daze,
then snapped out of it and hit his combadge with his free hand.
"Bashir to security!"

"Eddington here, go ahead, Doctor."

"We have a situation down on the promenade, Commander. We need you
down here."

"Understood. Eddington out."

No one had moved, and the three Trisepat citizens were still standing
around their table, silently, but Bashir suspected they were
communicating telepathically. The Gri'Thethi and the Kbsai were both
telepathic races, and it would be easy for them to include the Hendulu
in their mental conversation. Irrelevantly, Bashir wondered if there
were any Betazoids there privy to the unspoken words.

O'Brien moved then, as Eddington and his officers showed up. The
engineer took Renzia from the doctor's arms.

"What's the problem?" Eddington demanded. The sound of his voice, the
somehow strangeness of it, shook Bashir back to reality. He gestured
vaguely to the Trisepat citizens.

"That man is a spy," the Gri'Thethi said firmly. Eddington raised his
eyebrows, turning toward the trapped Sloan.

"I think his name is Sloan," Bashir said.

"You know him, Doctor?" Eddington asked, sending his two officers to
detain the man, reliving the Hendulu of his telekinetic duties.

"I think I might," Bashir said carefully.

"Then you'll have to come with me," Eddington said. "This should be an
interesting story. You're a very popular man with security lately,
Doctor."

"Must be my charm," Bashir replied, one corner of his mouth twitching
in a wry half-smile. He glanced at O'Brien who nodded his assent about
taking care of Renzia, then followed Eddington from the replimat,
keeping his eyes on Sloan, who glared piercingly, threateningly, at
him before being hauled off.

---

The holding area of Eddington's security office was packed. Bashir was
sitting down, feeling tired again now, although around him, everyone
else was standing. Sisko was there, and seemed displeased as all hell,
his dark face and eyes stormy and forbidding. The Gri'Thethi woman was
there, too, at Eddington's request, and Admiral Dukat had been called
down, and was giving Sloan the cool glare of a Cardassian.

"You said his name is Sloan, Doctor?" Eddington asked.

Bashir nodded.

"Luther Sloan," the Gri'Thethi, whose name was An'Hanai supplied.
Sloan shot her a look and she shook her head. "That won't work," she
informed him. "I am far better trained than you are."

Bashir supposed that Sloan had been trying to hide information from
her telepathic searching. He knew it wouldn't work; Gri'Thethi were
one of the most adept telepathic species known to the Federation.

"How do you know him, Doctor?" Sisko asked.

"I'm not sure I do," Bashir replied, to which Sisko arched an eyebrow.
"He looks familiar, and I know his name, but I don't know where I know
him from."

"That's unusual for you, Julian," Sisko said.

"I know," Bashir replied.

"Who do you work for?" Dukat demanded of the prisoner.

"Internal Affairs," Sloan replied. Bashir's eyes narrowed and An'Hanai
said:

"He's lying."

Dukat looked back at her expectantly.

"Something called Section Thirty-One."

The name sounded vaguely familiar to Bashir, and must have been to
Dukat, because he spun back to Sloan, anger radiating off of him.

"You will explain to me how your organization survived, and you will
tell me how many of you there are. If I have to get the answer from
An'Hanai, things will go worse for you than they already are, I
promise you that."

"What's Section Thirty-One?" Sisko asked.

"They used to be a rogue Federation intelligence organization. They
were disbanded when the Alliance and the Federation merged. Or so we
thought," Dukat said, his voice low.

"According to Mister Sloan, they are operating without the knowledge
of the Federation Council or Starfleet Command," An'Hanai said.

Dukat's cold eyes raked over Sloan's face.

"The fact that she had to tell me that does not bode well for you,
Mister Sloan." He turned away from the stunned-looking prisoner to
face Sisko. "Captain, I suggest we get in touch with Starfleet Command
and the Federation Council immediately. Mister Eddington, I want
transportation of the highest security to Earth arranged for our
guest. I think there may be a few people in Starfleet who have some
questions for him. And perhaps he would like to give us the names of
his colleagues. I'd hate to have to resort to further telepathic
intervention."

"Of course, sir," Eddington replied. "Doctor Bashir, I need to ask you
some questions."

"Later," Sisko interjected. "Right now, Doctor Bashir is going to the
infirmary. Don't argue with me, Julian, you're still on medical leave,
and you look like you're going to collapse. Come on."

With an inward sigh, Bashir pushed himself to his feet and followed
his CO and Dukat from the holding area. He glanced back once and saw
Sloan watching him, with a cold, calculating stare.

You won't get me this time, Bashir thought.

---

Sisko left him at the infirmary, leaving Bashir to feel as if he were
a package being shunted around. He took a seat on a exam bed and
peeled off his uniform jacket. He had been chilly that morning, and
had put on a long sleeved green uniform shirt. He pushed those sleeves
up above his elbows now and waited until Tarses came in.

"If you don't stop overexerting yourself, Julian, I'll have to make
you stay here again," the other doctor warned.

"Believe me, I had no intention of getting involved with this Sloan."

Tarses arched an eyebrow as only someone with Vulcan heritage could
do.

"Need I remind you of your confrontation with the Klingon yesterday?"

"No," Bashir sighed as Tarses examined him. The half-Vulcan frowned
slightly, then shook his head.

"You're still running a mild fever. I am keeping you here until this
afternoon. You need to rest."

Bashir sighed, but nodded.

"I will get you something to eat and drink," Tarses said. "In the
meantime, I want you to lie down and stay lying down."

Obediently, Bashir swung his legs onto the bed and lay down, crossing
his hands on his stomach. Tarses gave a satisfied nod and left the
room, dimming the lights on his way out. Bashir lay still for a
moment, thinking of his daughter, wondering if Dax had gone off duty
to take care of her. Was it always like this for Starfleet families?
Or any family stationed on a station or starship? Keiko O'Brien wasn't
in Starfleet, after all, but her botany work in this sector and the
Gamma Quadrant kept both her and Miles busy juggling schedules and
children. Bashir wondered how Sisko had managed it after his wife had
died.

He was filled with a strong desire to go home, to see his wife and
daughter, but he knew better than to contravene Tarses' orders.
Instead, he shut his eyes and let himself drift off to sleep.

---

When he awoke, he was still alone in the infirmary, and there was no
sign of Tarses or any food. Bashir frowned and eased himself from the
bed, straining his sensitive hearing. He could only hear the sound of
his own breathing and the machines in the infirmary.

"Simon?" he called, heading for the door, looking out into the rest of
the infirmary. It appeared empty. Bashir tapped his combadge.
"Computer, locate Doctor Simon Tarses." Only silence answered his
request. "Computer, respond." He tapped the badge again. "Bashir to
Tarses. Bashir to Dax. Come in, Jadzia. Bashir to anyone who can hear
me, please respond."

Again, only silence.

Bashir stepped fully into the corridor, turning toward the main
entrance, and jerked when the doors hissed open suddenly. A man strode
in, then glanced up before stopping dead in his tracks. Julian Bashir
and Julian Bashir stared at each other. Dax's husband recovered first,
suddenly noticing the other Bashir's uniform was different than his
own. The jacket was black with grey shoulders, and he wore a teal
coloured shirt underneath, with his lieutenant's rank pips attacked to
the mock-turtleneck.

"Julian," he said.

"Yes," the other man said in his own voice. "You, too, I suppose."

"Yes."

They stared at each other for a moment longer, then Bashir shook his
head.

"What in the hell–" he began.

The scene vanished and Bashir blinked himself awake, startled. He sat
up part way, glancing around the infirmary room, and saw a tray of
food waiting for him. Relieved, he began to sit up the rest of the way
when a strong hand pressed him back down on the bed. A face came into
his vision suddenly, a rugged, angry looking face.

"You won't get away so quickly, Doctor," Sloan whispered.

"What the hell?" Bashir cursed, sitting up quickly, startling the
other man into backing off slightly. The doctor smacked his combadge.
"Bashir to security! Sloan's escaped!"

"They can't hear you," Sloan assured him. "I took the liberty of
deactivating your combadge. And don't bother shouting for Doctor
Tarses or any of your nurses. They're all unavailable at the moment."

"How dare you?" Bashir hissed, jumping from the bed and grabbing
Sloan. Sloan wrestled with him, until they were deadlocked, gripping
each other so hard Bashir could feel bruises forming.

"Couldn't let you get away from me that easily, Doctor."

"Get away from you!" Bashir snapped. "I don't even know you!"

"You knew my name. You have some memory of me."

"I have a great memory," Bashir growled. "And I know I've never met
you before."

"No," Sloan said. "The man who lets his wife call him Jules Bashir has
never met me, or any other Luther Sloan before. You and I, Doctor,
we're old friends."

"I am Jules Bashir!" Bashir snapped.

Sloan grinned a cold, mirthless grin.

"Deep down, you know that isn't true. You don't belong here, Julian,
any more than I do."

Bashir snapped, tightening his grip even more on Sloan, managing to
grab the other man by the collar and yank Sloan toward him.

"This. Is. My. Home." he said, spitting out each word furiously. "I
don't know what the hell you're doing, but it won't work."

Sloan laughed darkly.

"Deep Space Nine is your home, Doctor. Not Terok Nor. Don't you
understand? You're the wrong Julian in the wrong universe."

Bashir felt himself go cold. All the strange things he had felt or
thought during the past few days rushed back to him, the Romulans,
Worf, suspicions about Dukat, familiarity with Legate Garak. Sloan
must have seen the shock on his face, because he nodded.

"How many healthy adults get chicken pox, Doctor?" he asked. "In our
universe, most of them would. We don't have it there. The Julian
Bashir here already had them, when he was a child. You never did. Why
else would you get it? Your body was never exposed to it."

Moving so fast he didn't even think, Bashir drew an arm back and drove
his fist into Sloan's face. The other man grunted, slumping in
Bashir's grip, and the doctor let him fall to the floor. Bashir
turned, hurrying toward the doorway, but he heard the high pitched
whine of a forcefield.

The infirmary doors hissed open and Eddington, another security
officer, Dax, and Sisko rushed in.

"Julian!" Dax exclaimed.

"Sloan escaped," Bashir said quickly. "And he's not from here. He came
through that interdimensional rift."

Eddington and his lieutenant set to work deactivating the force field,
then the commander sent the woman off to check on the medical staff.
Bashir stepped into the corridor once the force field was down and
Eddington hurried into the room, cuffing Sloan and dragging him to his
feet. He threw the other man on the bed and bound his legs for good
measure.

"I think I know how he came through the rift," Dax said. "I thought it
was in a stable orbit, but I was able to do some more analyses with
the data I collected yesterday. It's not. It passed through here four
days ago, Julian."

Bashir nodded.

"That must have been how he got here, then."

"But why would he come here?" Sisko asked.

"He's after me," Bashir replied.

"What? Why you?"

"Because I'm not the Julian Bashir who's supposed to be here," he
replied.

"What?" Sisko and Dax asked at once.

Bashir nodded to Sloan's unconscious form.

"He told me as much, but I was already starting to suspect."

"You can't believe something he would tell you, Doctor," Sisko pointed
out.

"No, sir, I believe my own reasoning," Bashir replied. "I have
memories I shouldn't have, of races that don't exist here, or things
that never happened in this time line."

"But you have all of your memories, too," Dax pointed out.

Bashir nodded.

"I know. I think – I'm not sure, but I think – it may be because I
switched places with the Julian from here. I don't think Sloan did
that. I think he came through deliberately."

"If that's true, what can we do about it?" Sisko asked.

"I need to get back," Bashir replied. "And the Julian who belongs here
needs to get back here. I can take a shuttle into the anomaly. If I'm
right, he and I switched when the anomaly passed through the station.
We could switch again at the anomaly."

"No," Dax said. "You're assuming he's figured it out and will do the
same thing. If you're wrong, you could end up dead in space and he
could end up stuck over there."

Bashir really looked at her for the first time since she had arrived
and saw the pain in her blue eyes. He hesitated. He couldn't very well
abandon her without any husband. But he was not her husband. The other
Bashir was. He could no more abandon that Bashir to his universe.

"We'll bring it here," Dax said.

"How?" Sisko asked.

"We can use the station's deflector array to create a gravitational
pulse, and aim it directly at the anomaly. If we match the frequency
with the background radiation leaking from the anomaly, we should be
able to attract it without attracting anything else."

"I want simulations," Sisko said. "I don't need a planet crashing into
my station the day before the Trisepat gets here. Work with Commander
O'Brien. Wait. Julian, are you sure about this?"

"Yes, sir," Bashir said. "And if I'm wrong, we should be able to
switch again."

"What if you just stayed here, and he stayed there? You have his
memories; he must have yours."

"But I'm starting to regain my memories. We have to assume he's
starting to regain his. Eventually, we'd both have overlapping
memories of our entire lives. And, if I'm right," he glanced at Dax
and drew a deep breath, "Then Jadzia is not my wife, and Renzia is not
my child, but his."

Dax looked hurt and confused, but she didn't say anything, and Bashir
understood how she felt. He felt the same way, torn between this life
and the one he was starting to remember. He wondered if he were
married to Dax over there. He tried to remember, but the memories
slipped away. And Dax deserved her real husband, and Renzia her real
father.

"Dax?" Sisko asked.

"I'll get started right away," she said. "One way or another, we'll
sort this out."

"What about Sloan, Captain?" Eddington asked.

"See if you can get that Hendulu's help with him. And An'Hanai. He
must have better mental defenses than she thought to hide his origins.
And if there's any Section Thirty-One officers operating in this
universe, I want to know about it."

"Understood," Eddington said. His lieutenant returned, reported that
she'd revived the drugged medical staff, and helped Eddington with
Sloan.

"I take it you're a doctor over there, Julian?" Sisko asked.

"Yes, sir," Bashir replied.

"Take care of Simon and Jabara. Dax, you're with me."

"Right," she said, glancing back at Bashir as Sisko turned away. She
hesitated for a moment, then stepped toward him, clasped his face
between her hands and kissed him on the lips. Bashir kissed back.

"We'll sort this out," he promised in a whisper.

"I know," she replied, then vanished from the infirmary.

---

Bashir tended to Tarses and Jabara, then returned home. Bareil came by
with Renzia, and Bashir was not at all surprised that care of his
daughter – the other Bashir's daughter – had changed hands. It seemed
to be the norm on this station.

"How are you?" Bareil asked as he returned Renzia to Bashir.

"Confused," Bashir replied, getting a bottle for the baby from the
replicator and sitting down on the couch. He gestured for Bareil to
take a seat and the Kai did, sinking gracefully into the chair
opposite the doctor.

"I'm not surprised. Are you absolutely certain about this, Julian? I
don't want to see you give up your life for this if you aren't
certain."

Bashir sighed and nodded.

"I understand. Believe me. But yes, I'm sure. What Sloan said to me
made sense. Why would I get the chicken pox otherwise? In my universe
we don't have them anymore. Not to mention all the other strange
things I've felt and thought over the past few days."

"Nerys wanted me to ask," Bareil said.

"I appreciate that," Bashir replied.

"May I try something?" the Kai asked. Bashir nodded and Bareil
extended his left arm, gripping Bashir's right ear gently. Bashir knew
the Kai rarely did this; it was a tradition that had largely faded
under his spiritual guidance. He watched the Kai's face as Bareil
frowned.

"Yes," the Kai said eventually, taking his hand away. "Your pagh
doesn't feel quite right. What do you remember of your life there?"

"Not much," Bashir replied. "There's a Klingon on the station right
now, this station, I mean, named Worf. I think over there, I know
him."

"A Klingon?" Bareil said, raising one eyebrow.

Bashir nodded.

"And a race of people called Romulans who are distantly related to the
Vulcans. I don't think I have any children, but I'm pretty sure
there's a Jadzia Dax. And a Kira Nerys."

Bareil smiled his gentle smile.

"I'm glad," he said. "I hope the life you have over there is as good
as the one you have here."

"I hope so, too," Bashir replied, then looked down at Renzia again.
"I'll miss her."

"She'll miss you," Bareil said. "We all will."

The com system interrupted them suddenly.

"Sisko to Bashir."

Bashir shifted the baby's weight and tapped his combadge.

"Bashir here."

"We're ready, Doctor. Report to cargo bay five."

Bashir glanced at Bareil, who nodded.

"On my way," he replied.

He stood and the Kai joined him. In silence, they made their way to
the cargo bay. His friends were all there waiting: O'Brien, Kira, Odo,
Tarses, Jabara, Eddington, and of course, Sisko and Dax. Bashir pulled
Dax into a hug and she hugged him back. Then he handed her their
daughter.

"Ready?" Sisko asked.

"Ready," Bashir replied with a heavy heart. He turned to his friends
and O'Brien clasped his hand, then pulled him into a hug. Kira hugged
him as well, and Jabara, and Odo, Tarses and Eddington shook his hand.
Sisko was the last to approach him, gripping the doctor's hand and
clapping his shoulder.

"Take care of yourself, Julian."

"I will. I'll send the other Julian home safely, too."

Sisko nodded and Bashir stepped into the cargo bay. It was one of the
few empty ones, left vacant for ore processing in case they needed
extra space, or any other emergency storage needs. Bashir felt small
and alone in the empty, echoing bay, and the hiss of the doors as they
shut seemed to reverberate all around him.

O'Brien's voice came over the com, filling the void.

"O'Brien to Bashir. We're initializing the gravitational pulse. It
shouldn't take too long to pull the anomaly back to us."

"Acknowledged," Bashir replied. He waited what seemed like an eternity
until he felt something pulling at him. He stepped toward the tug and
felt Terok Nor fade behind him. There was nothing for a moment and
then Bashir saw someone approaching him.

"Jules?" he said.

"Julian," the other Bashir replied.

He came into view and they both stopped. The other Bashir was wearing
the same uniform he had seen in the dream. He saw the same sort of
recognition on the other Bashir's face.

"I take it we ended up in the wrong places," the other Bashir said.

"I think so."

"Is there a Dominion over there?" the other Bashir asked, nodding in
the direction of Terok Nor.

"Not anymore," Bashir replied. "I take it there's no Trisepat there?"

"Not that your Federation has encountered. I'm sure they're out
there." He paused, then took Bashir's hand. "Good luck, Julian."

"And to you, too, Jules."

The other Bashir's lips twitched.

"Only Zia calls me that."

"But not in my life," Bashir sighed, feeling suddenly certain of that.
His counterpart nodded, then walked away, leaving Bashir standing by
himself. He felt a sudden, burning desire to turn away, to turn his
back on his other life and return to Terok Nor. But the retreating
form of the other Bashir told him he couldn't do that. It wasn't his
life to live. He had to face his own reality, no matter what was in
it.

He turned toward his universe and stepped across the threshold.

--- 3 Years Later… ---

Julian Bashir switched off his com screen and sat back in his chair.
He rubbed his eyes and looked around his empty quarters. He stood up,
stretching, and cracked his stiff back.

"Computer, time," he said.

"The time is nineteen hundred sixteen."

Bashir sighed. He glanced at his com again and ran his hands through
his hair. He hardly ever read his journal entries from after he had
returned from the alternate universe, because he could no longer
remember any of it. The memories had begun to fade immediately after
his return, and he had recorded what he could recall, but he knew
there was information missing. There hadn't been a Dominion, but he
couldn't remember what had been in the Gamma Quadrant in their place.
He remembered that Sloan had followed him, and had hoped at first that
they had found some way to deal with the Section Thirty-One officer,
but true to his deceptive nature, Sloan had turned up again in
Bashir's life.

He thought of Jadzia and felt the familiar emptiness in his heart. She
had been dead for almost three years now, but not a day went by when
he didn't miss her. Ezri Dax had helped fill that hole, but she was
her own person. She could not replace Jadzia, nor would Bashir have
wanted her to. He couldn't imagine a life without her, either, and the
thought of her made him smile. He hadn't been able to remember if
there had been an Ezri over there, but he hoped fervently that Jadzia
was still alive to be with her husband and raise their daughter. He
hoped Ezri had been spared the sudden joining she'd been subjected to
here, which had turned her life upside down.

The door chime made him look up.

"Come in!" he called.

The subject of his thoughts, Ezri Dax, stepped into his quarters. He
smiled at her and she smiled back, crossing the room. Bashir took her
hands and kissed her.

"I'm not intruding, am I?" she asked.

"No," he replied. "I was just reading my journal entries. From the
alternate universe."

Ezri nodded, then ran a hand through his hair.

"You still don't remember any of that?" she asked.

"No," he said.

"I wonder what things are like over there for them?"

"I was just thinking the same thing," Bashir replied. "Maybe one day
we'll find a way through like we have to that other alternate
universe."

"That one would be better than the Alliance one," Ezri said.

Bashir nodded in agreement, then kissed her cheek.

"Ready to go for dinner?" he asked.

"You bet," she replied.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and gave her a one-armed hug. All
in all, he considered, he had a good life over here. He'd always
wonder about the other Bashir, but he had his life, and Bashir had
his. Sometimes he thought he might choose differently if he was given
the chance, but it was a chance he would not be able to take in good
conscience, if it were ever offered to him. This universe, this
Starfleet, this station, this Ezri, they were his life. He had no
right to exchange that for anything. Julian Bashir switched off his
com screen and sat back in his chair. He rubbed his eyes and looked
around his empty quarters. He stood up, stretching, and cracked his
stiff back.

---

"Computer, time," he said.

"The time is nineteen hundred sixteen."

Bashir sighed. He glanced at his com again and ran his hands through
his hair. He hardly ever read his journal entries from after he had
returned from the alternate universe, because he could no longer
remember any of it; the memories had begun to fade immediately after
his return, and he had recorded what he could recall, but he knew
there was information missing. There had been a war, but he couldn't
remember who the Federation had been fighting, or when or how the
Klingon Empire had allied with the Federation.

He wondered occasionally if the other Bashir had ever gotten together
with Dax, if he had ever worked up the nerve to sort things out the
way he had wanted them. It never failed to make him grateful for what
he had: ten years of marriage and a beautiful family he wouldn't trade
for anything.

The door hissed open and Bashir looked up. Dax stepped over the
threshold, carrying Narye Bashir on one hip. Renzia raced in, throwing
herself at her father, wrapping her small arms around Bashir's legs
and beaming up at him. Bashir grinned back and scooped her into his
arms, covering her face in kisses.

"Hello, darling," he said. "And my other darlings."

Dax grinned at him and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. Narye
wriggled in her mother's arms, stretching her own arms out to Bashir
and he settled his other daughter onto his free hip. He gave her a
kiss on the forehead and she made a grab for his hair that he narrowly
avoided. She was nine months old now, with a full head of dark, curly
hair and hazel eyes. Everyone said she looked like her father, which
Bashir found amusing, as there was not a drop of human blood in her.
He and Dax had adopted her, an orphaned Trill girl, less than three
weeks after she had been born.

"What were you up to?" Dax asked.

"I was reading my journal entries. From the alternate universe."

"You haven't started remembering anything, have you?" she asked.

"No. Have you?"

She shook her head.

"Of course not."

Bashir wasn't surprised; no one actually remembered anymore. The only
reason they knew was Bashir had recorded what he could recall, and the
station's senior staff had made professional logs about the
experiences leading up to bringing the anomaly to the station.
Eddington apparently had some personal logs about it, too, but Bashir
had never read them. Two years ago, Eddington had been promoted to
captain and given command of his own ship. Before leaving, he had told
Bashir his personal logs contained some information about Luther
Sloan's escape. No trace of him was ever found, and none of the
extensive investigations had ever uncovered how he had managed to
escape. Bashir and Eddington assumed he'd somehow slipped back through
the anomaly before Dax had collapsed it, and returned to his own
universe. Starfleet Command had enlisted the help of the Gri'Thethi
and the Kbsai in rooting out any remaining Section Thirty-One
operatives. Admiral Dukat, now retired, had been in charge of that,
but they had found nothing.

"I got a letter from Nerys today," Dax said. "This morning."

"Yes?" Bashir asked, looking up. Kira had moved to Bajor, taking a
position at the Federation embassy there, shortly after Bashir had
returned. It had been at his suggestion, after she had started
suffering headaches and loss of sleep from the stress of being
constantly separated from Bareil.

"She's due any day now, and she says she feels like she's going to
burst. I told her that was normal."

Bashir grinned at his wife.

"Is she still thinking of coming here to have the baby?"

"I think Antos has convinced her not to," Dax hazarded and Bashir
laughed.

"Good. She should be where she's comfortable. And it's only three
hours to Bajor; we can easily go visit her."

Dax nodded, taking Narye from her father's arms. Bashir set Renzia
down on the floor.

"Want to get started on dinner?" Dax called over her shoulder as she
took the baby into their bedroom to change her.

"Will do," Bashir agreed, then crouched down to talk to his oldest
daughter. "Why don't you do some colouring while I'm getting supper
ready?"

"Can you colour with me?" Renzia asked.

"After we eat," Bashir promised, ruffling her hair, and she giggled,
grinning at him. He pushed himself to his feet again and paused for a
moment to listen to the sounds of his family living their lives. He
had a great life here, and wouldn't have traded it for anything. He
would always wonder how that other Bashir was doing, but, given the
chance, wouldn't choose to find out. Not if it meant sacrificing what
he had here. They had separate lives, and Bashir knew that he wouldn't
trade this one for anything in either universe.

---

continued in the second story in the Greensleeves series 'A Shadow of My Life'