Of Moths and Flames, Part II

[dark_sinestra]

 

He saw her across the table, blood trickling down the side of her face. “You'd better get to Upper Pylon Three,” came the terse reply from the command center. “We've been attacked by Jem'Hadar. They came out of nowhere!”

 

He looked quickly to Leeta and Ziyal. Both of them seemed to be all right, but they were shaken. “Garak,” Kira said, hauling herself to her feet, “please get Ziyal somewhere safe. If there are Jem'Hadar on the station...”

 

“I understand, Major,” he said. “Go.”

 

“Nerys is bleeding,” Ziyal said, shooting a worried look after her.

 

“She can take care of herself, sweetie,” Leeta said firmly. “We need to follow Garak now like she said.”

 

Chalan was already back on her feet, she and Mayna effectively calming those who were panicking. There was nothing to be done there except to get out of the way. Garak offered a hand to pull Leeta up. Ziyal had already gained her feet and was casting worried looks at some of the injured people around them. “They'll be fine,” Garak said. “We've got to go now.” He knew that when he used that tone of voice, few ever disobeyed him. Ziyal was no exception. He calculated quickly that even though his shop was closer, the Promenade was a more likely target for invaders. He didn't trust the turbolifts. “Both of you stay close to me. If I say freeze, freeze. If I say drop, drop. No heroics. Understand?”

 

They both nodded. Chalan controlled the flow of traffic from her establishment, keeping people from running and tripping over one another on the way out the door. Garak hurried his little group out of the doorway very quickly and cut to the side, looking for a specific panel. As soon as he saw it, he pried it loose with clawed fingers, grunting with effort. Leeta stepped in to help him, her thinner fingers better at getting purchase. In the end, it took all three of them to work it completely loose without tools. “Into the maintenance conduit. Quickly, quickly,” he urged them, pushing them from behind. He stepped in last and pulled the panel back into place. They couldn't quite get it shut as completely as it had been. It would have to do.

 

It was a very long time since Garak had found himself in the inner corridors of Terok Nor. He tried not to think of the previous circumstances that led to his unusual knowledge of the station. He squeezed past them to lead the way again. He had to pause a few times to be certain he had the right way. He had only done this once before under stress. After a few ladder climbs and one wrong turn, he paused before another access panel. “Both of you do me a favor,” he said. “Put your heads against the wall and listen. Let me know if you hear anything. Your hearing is sharper than mine.”

 

They did as he asked, listening for several minutes. Both of them straightened and shook their heads. “No,” Ziyal said.

 

“Nothing,” Leeta said.

 

“Stand back,” he told them, turning his back and aiming a backward, jabbing kick at the panel to spare his knee the brunt of the force and distribute it more through his hip and thigh. It popped free and spun out into the corridor. Garak quickly looked up and down the empty corridor before beckoning them out ahead of him. They put the panel back in place and ran down the rest of the way to his quarters. Even after he had his phaser in hand, he still didn't fully relax. “We should be OK here for now,” he told them. “If you hear anything out there—I don't care how innocuous you think it might be—tell me.”

 

They nodded. Leeta instinctively gathered Ziyal into her arms and held her. Only then did Garak notice that both of them were shaking. If he hadn't been trained, he figured he might be shaking, too. He had seen what Jem'Hadar could do. He crossed to his computer interface, set his phaser within easy reach, and began to hack into the system so that he would at least be able to tell them something of what was going on. “Upper Pylon Three is gone,” he said. “Force fields are holding. The Defiant just arrived. Casualty reports aren't in yet.”

 

“Rom was working in the upper pylons tonight,” Leeta said in a small voice.

 

Garak glanced over at her. “There's no sense in worrying until we know more,” he said. “He could have been in any one of them.”

 

“I should find Quark, ask...” she said.

 

“You can't go out there,” Ziyal said sharply. “It's not safe. Nerys will come let us know when it is. Please, Leeta?”

 

The woman nodded and kissed her lightly on the forehead. “OK,” she said. “Garak, if you hear anything...”

 

“I'll tell you,” he said. “Why don't you two have a seat on the sofa? There's no reason not to be comfortable, or if you'd feel safer in the bedroom, go there.”

 

“We're not leaving you,” Ziyal said staunchly, and beneath her fear he saw mettle.

 

“Then I should be glad of the company,” he said gently, turning his attention back to the computer. The Defiant didn't stay long. They left within less than a half hour in pursuit of the fleeing Jem'Hadar vessel. “We're getting casualty reports now,” he said, glancing over at the two. “Eighteen confirmed dead. Over thirty missing, over a hundred injured.” Leeta's dark eyes looked like twin bruises, her worry palpable.

 

Frowning to himself, Garak hailed Quark on his “underground” channel he wasn't supposed to know about. The Ferengi's surprised face popped up on part of his screen, the rest dedicated to the hacked security feed. “Where's Rom?” Garak asked without preamble.

 

“He's fine, Garak. Major Kira told me she saw him after the explosion. How did you...”

 

Garak cut the feed before he could finish his question. Both Leeta and Ziyal smiled gratefully, as not only Rom's but Kira's safety were just confirmed. “I would suggest trying to get some rest,” he told both of them. “The best thing we can do right now is to stay out of the way. Kira will be expecting you to be here, Ziyal. Let's not give her a reason to worry.” He glanced at Leeta, his plea unspoken. If the girl was staying, she should, too.

 

“We can spread blankets on the floor,” Leeta said, nodding very faintly and giving him a reassuring smile.

 

“Nonsense. You can take the bed. It might be a little cramped...”

 

“Nerys and I share a bed all the time,” Ziyal said. She ducked her head slightly, looking a little embarrassed. “I sometimes have nightmares, and she's really nice about letting me climb in. I don't take up much space, Leeta. I promise.”

 

Garak turned back to his computer so she wouldn't read his look. It was rare he was moved to compassion. Her open plea not to be alone tugged at him. There was no telling what she had been through in that Breen labor camp or what demons stalked her dreams. He was glad that Leeta conceded easily. “I'm afraid I don't have anything that will fit either of you,” he said, still not looking their way. “All of my pajama tops and tunics will be far too wide at the neck. You'll have to sleep in your clothes.”

 

“We'll manage that for a night,” Leeta said. “Ziyal, why don't you take the shower first? I don't know about you, but I feel a little grungy after crawling through all those maintenance tunnels.”

 

“Me, too,” she said. She sprang quickly from the sofa and crossed over to Garak, hugging him with artless abandon. “Thank you for everything,” she said simply and hurried into the back, the bedroom door whooshing shut behind her.

 

Leeta approached more slowly, her hug no less fierce but avoiding his neck ridges. “You,” she said, pulling back and kissing his cheek softly, “are my hero. You may have the entire rest of the universe fooled, Mister 'Just a Tailor' and sometime jerk, but after seeing how positively sweet and dear you are to that young woman, I will never again believe that there isn't a heart of gold under all that gray.”

 

“You Bajorans are such a sentimental people,” he scoffed, desperate to disguise his intense discomfort.

 

To his horror, she tweaked his nose. “Not fooled,” she said, winking and stepping away from him. “I promise I'll never do that again, and I won't breathe a word of any of this to anyone or embarrass you by continuing to gush. I just...understand now why Julian can't let you go, and I'm glad he has you.”

 

“Have you told him what you told me?”

 

She shook her head. “There hasn't been time lately. I hardly see him because they're working him so hard, and when I have, we've been fighting.” She sighed. “I will tell him, Garak. I promise, soon, but not while he's dealing with a crisis like this or while Miles is still so unsteady. He has enough on his plate. It can wait.”

 

He nodded, knowing that she was right. “I'm sorry things aren't working out for you,” he said, meaning it on one level. “You're a good woman. I sometimes think Julian can't be happy with anyone, and I have no idea why.”

 

“Maybe that's the mystery that keeps you going back to him,” she said, leaning a seat on the back of his sofa. “I've known you long enough to know you have a deep seated need to have all the answers. There aren't many of us mere mortals who can keep our deepest, darkest secrets out of your hands.”

 

“You're mocking me,” he said, his lip curling slightly.

 

“Fondly,” she said.

 

“When did you last eat possar soup?” he asked, turning to face her directly.

 

He could tell the question startled her; it was his intention, anything to create some distance. He didn't want this kind of closeness with her, for her to gain the power to hurt him. So few held those reins. He didn't expect her to answer him, however. “At a funeral,” she said. “It's my earliest memory, actually. I think it was my mother's or my father's. I don't really know, but...I remember the soup perfectly. It was the best thing I had ever tasted and one of the last times I was full until I was an adult.”

 

Her dark eyes gleamed a challenge. He felt suddenly petty and small for pushing her in the way that he had. She turned the tables on him so deftly with her brutal honesty that he felt his breath catch. “When you do leave him, I hope it doesn't mean you'll also leave me,” he confessed in an almost offhanded way. He could think of nothing else to convey his regard that wouldn't come across as cloying, and he couldn't bring himself to stick her with another barb. He respected her too much for that.

 

She relaxed, and the hardness faded from her eyes. “No,” she said. “I'm afraid you're stuck with me.”

 

Ziyal poked her head around the bedroom door. “I'm done with my shower,” she said.

 

Garak felt relief when both of them were ensconced in his bedroom. He didn't want the sorts of attachments he found himself forming with distressing regularity now. The list seemed to grow by the day of people he would miss if they left, people with the power to put a hole in his carefully ordered world with their absence or their sorrow. It made him wonder who he was and if he would ever be able to make himself useful again if called upon by his people. It frightened him deeply. “Computer, lights out,” he said, lying back on the sofa and staring up into the darkness. He felt quite certain he'd get no sleep.

 

Julian

Habitat Level H-3

 

Dead on his feet. He understood that expression on a visceral level. He had no idea exactly what time it was, late, early, the nebulous in-between time that some called night and others morning. He had mended so much torn and burned flesh that it was all a blur. Normally he prided himself on knowing the names of all of his patients and a little something personal about them. There had been no time for that in the wake of the devastating explosion. He had come right off the Defiant, already exhausted from the defense of Free Haven, and thrown himself into blood and char. The full complement of his infirmary staff had barely been adequate to the task. Frendel finally sent him away before his exhaustion could hurt someone. He felt it deeply enough not to argue. Kira had told him at some point during the confusion that Leeta was with Garak. The news had relieved him. He didn't have the presence of mind at the time to wonder how she knew.

 

He lifted a leaden hand to press the hail button at Garak's door. The tailor responded almost immediately, glancing back toward his bedroom and then stepping out into the corridor with Julian, the door shutting at his back. “They're asleep,” Garak said. “They had a trying time of things. I'd just as soon not awaken them.”

 

Them? Julian blinked blearily. What was Garak talking about? “Who...who are you talking about?” he asked thickly.

 

“Leeta and Ziyal,” he answered.

 

His mind refused to wrap around it. “I don't understand. Leeta and Ziyal are both in your bed?”

 

Irritation flared in the blue eyes regarding him evenly, but Garak showed uncharacteristic restraint of it. “Yes,” he said. “We were all having dinner together with Major Kira when the pylon exploded. Naturally, she had to tend to the crisis at hand, leaving me to see to the safety of our friends. They were both completely sensible, good heads on their shoulders.”

 

“I'm sorry I...” Julian frowned and waved a hand vaguely. “I don't even know what I'm saying right now. I suppose I'll go to my quarters. I need some sleep.”

 

Garak grunted softly and took him by the hands. He allowed him to lead him into the dark living quarters. It still surprised him just how well the Cardassian could navigate spaces his vision couldn't penetrate. He guided him unerringly to the sofa, pulled his boots off, and had him lying on his side with his head pillowed on a firm thigh in less than two minutes. “Sleep,” Garak murmured, his fingers in Julian's hair stroking out the same message tactilely.

 

“Just two hours,” Julian husked. “I mean it. I've got to get back to the infirmary.”

 

“I understand,” Garak said.

 

He awoke not to Garak, but to Leeta. The light level in the room was very low, just enough for him to see her face close to his own. His head was now pillowed on a low couch arm. He had awakened to the feeling of her fingers stroking through the hair at his temple. Disoriented, he moved to sit up, and she eased back in her crouch to give him room. “What time is it?” he croaked.

 

“You've been asleep for two hours, just as you asked,” she said, climbing to her feet and reaching both hands to him to help him up. “Garak is walking Ziyal back to Nerys'. He instructed me in no uncertain terms to have you up and out of here on time.”

 

He took her hands and hauled himself to his feet then pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her fragrant hair. “I'm sorry I was such an ass,” he said. “It was all I could think about on the way to Free Haven, that I didn't even have a chance to smooth things out with you or say good-bye before having to leave. Then when we got back and I saw the damage to the station...” He felt his voice catch. He was still so exhausted that his emotions lay raw and close to the surface.

 

She hugged him tightly. “I could've been nicer,” she said. “I'm sorry, too. I'll walk you to the infirmary. We can talk along the way. I know you need to go.”

 

He nodded and reluctantly drew back. After a trip to the bathroom, he felt a little more human. They left Garak's quarters together, and she filled him in on everything that had happened in more detail. He had a hard time imagining Garak and Kira actually enjoying one another's company on any level. Then again, he had seen them set aside their differences for causes greater than themselves before.

 

On the turbolift ride down, Leeta said, “It's not my business, but you should know that Garak isn't romantically interested in Ziyal. Prophets, she has one of the hardest crushes on him I've ever seen in my life, but it's one sided. Try to have a little compassion for her, OK?”

 

He nodded and lifted both hands to rub at his face. “You weren't wrong to accuse me of jealousy. I know it's stupid.”

 

“It's not stupid,” she said. “He's important to you, and you don't feel secure in his affections. I'm not saying you're wrong to feel insecure. Garak...is difficult. All I'm saying is that Ziyal isn't a threat.”

 

He pulled her to him again for the last few seconds that they had of the ride. “I'm lucky to have you. I know I don't always show it. I know it, though.” She pulled back from him so that they could step onto the Promenade. He thought he saw her swipe at her face, but it was swift, and she was turned away from him. “Are you crying?” he asked.

 

“No,” she said, turning and smiling at him. “Why would I cry when you're being so sweet? Good luck today. I hope they let you get some real sleep soon.” She hurried away before he could question her further.

 

Why are you lying to me? he thought. He had seen that her eyelashes were wet. Unfortunately, he didn't have the time to think about it or pursue it. There was an infirmary full of casualties waiting for him, many of them still in danger of succumbing to their injuries. They needed his full focus, and he intended to give it to them.

 

By the end of the day they had four more dead, four families for Kira to notify in the captain's absence, four more weights on his already burdened back. He set up a portable cot in his office, snagging thirty minutes of sleep here, forty-five there, anything to get him through this. It was his nightmare come to life, only he felt like the zombie. His staff were as exhausted as he. Frendel had set up his own cot in an empty lab down the hall, and a few others also camped in any available space without having to be asked. Despite having the best medication available, pained moans and cries could be heard at all hours.

 

Days passed in one long hazed blur. They finally hit the tipping point they were all working toward, when all but the most badly wounded of their charges could go home or return to duty, when they could slow their breakneck pace, back off the stim packs, and return to something resembling a normal life. Julian wished that he could give a day off to every single one of his people. It wasn't feasible. It wasn't possible for him to take one, not that he didn't have the leave. He clapped Nurse Frendel on the shoulder, gave him a tired nod, and left for his first full night off in nearly eight days. The Defiant had returned three days before. As much as he wanted to sleep, he wanted to see Miles first. He wasn't happy with how quickly the man had returned to full duty, even dangerous, violent missions. Roberto Telnorri still worked closely with Julian on the chief's case and had assured him that he believed the engineer could handle it. He had little choice but to trust his judgment.

 

He activated the hail and managed a warm smile when Keiko answered the door, looking just a little frazzled. “Hey, Julian,” she said. An insistent, high pitched shout had her turning sharply. “Molly, I said not now,” she snapped, turning back to him and tucking a dark strand of hair behind her ear. “Miles isn't home yet. You're welcome to come in, but I'll warn you now, Molly is in a mood.”

 

“Maybe I can help,” he offered.

 

She shot him a skeptical look but stepped back to admit him. “I've got so many notes left to compile from the survey,” she said, gesturing helplessly at her uncharacteristically scattered desk housing an even more uncharacteristically wilted house plant. “I just keep getting so tired lately. Listen to me, going on and on when you've been buried alive in the infirmary for over a week. How are you? Can I get you anything?”

 

“I'm all right,” he assured her. “Tired, but I'll live. Why don't you take a little break? I don't need anything, and I can spend some time with Molly until Miles gets home.”

 

“Uncle Julian,” Molly said, walking over and tugging at his trousers, “will you color with me?”

 

“I'd love to color with you,” he said, “if it's all right with your mum.”

 

Keiko shook her head. “What did I already tell you?” she asked. “I want you to work on your letters first. No coloring until you're done.”

 

“I'll help you with that instead,” Julian offered.

 

“No!” Molly huffed, folding her arms and glaring at both adults. “I don't like it!”

 

Keiko's eyes narrowed dangerously. Julian could tell this had been going on for a while now. “You know, whenever I have a boring task, I try to find ways to make it more interesting,” he said quickly. “Can we at least try, so your mum can have a little rest? She's much happier when she isn't tired, isn't she?” he asked, squatting down to Molly's level. “Doesn't fuss as much?”

 

Clearly skeptical, Molly nodded slowly. “All right,” she said. “Then we can color?”

 

He glanced up at Keiko and offered a wry smile then stood and allowed Molly to lead him over to the coffee table where her lesson was spread. Keiko's return smile was deeply grateful. “I'll be in the bedroom,” she said to both of them. “If I'm lucky, I'll be able to catch a little nap before supper.”

 

“Now, why don't you show me what's so awful and boring about this lesson,” he said, sitting cross-legged on the floor, “and we'll figure out a way to make it fun.” Molly knelt beside him and drew the booklet closer. The two bent their heads over the pages, and Julian wracked his tired brain for a way to engage a four year old's imagination in a lesson that really was dreadfully dull. “Hmm,” he said. “Blank, p, p, l, e. It wants a letter, doesn't it?” Molly's eyes were already starting to wander toward her coloring book in the corner. Julian put a hand to his chest and dramatically fell over. “Aaaacck,” he said, flailing a little.

 

She whipped her head back around and stared at him, her dark eyes very wide and her mouth open slightly. “What happened?” she asked.

 

“If only I had...a letter,” he said. “Only the right one will do. Aaaaacck...”

 

She shook her head and giggled. “You're silly, Uncle Julian!”

 

“Hurry!” he said, lying down the rest of the way. “My time is running out.”

 

“I'll fix you!” she squealed suddenly, diving for her pencil and very carefully writing in an “a” to the blank space. She grabbed up the booklet and shoved it toward his face, too close for him to focus. “Did I save you?” she asked.

 

He took one edge in hand and pushed it back just a bit. “It looks...” he said weakly, “why, yes. I think...I think you did. It was a very, very close call.” He grabbed his knee.

 

“What is it now?” she asked, shaking him with all of her weight.

 

“My knee. That 'o, a, t' needs a letter that rhymes with knee, or it will never be the same. I may never walk again. Get the magic pencil. Hurry!”

 

“I've got it!” she said urgently and snatched the booklet away from him. He propped his head in his hand and watched her carefully craft another letter. She “saved” him from one crisis after another until Miles came through the door. “Daddy!” she said, tossing aside the pencil and launching from her work spot straight toward him like a tiny photon torpedo. Julian smiled from his spot on the floor and waved at Miles as he lifted the girl in a tight hug.

 

“Just what I've been wanting all day,” Miles said, “my very own Molly hug. How did you know?”

 

“I always know,” she said smugly.

 

“That's th' truth,” he agreed, dangling her upside down so that she'd giggle and then setting her aright. “I see you've been entertaining your Uncle Julian. Where's mommy?”

 

“Taking a nap. Shhh!” She put a finger to her lips and shushed him loudly. She turned to Julian. “How do you feel?” she asked earnestly.

 

Miles arched a questioning brow. Julian flashed him a quick wink and turned his attention back to Molly. “I'm all right...I think, but my...oh, dear. Look. My pinky won't quit twitching.” He twitched his finger at her. “Uh oh. It's spreading up my hand.”

 

“I've got this!” Molly said confidently, squirming back into her place wedged between him and the coffee table. She picked up her pencil and looked back at Miles. “I'm saving Uncle Julian with the magic pencil,” she said excitedly. “He's almost saved for good!”

 

“That's good t' hear,” Miles said with a chuckle. “Don' let me interrupt your work there. I'm going t' give your mommy a break and put dinner on. What do you think of that?”

 

“Don't make it yucky,” she said primly.

 

“Yucky? I never make yucky food. Julian, think you'll be joining us?”

 

Molly whipped her head around. “Pleeeeaaaase? I haven't seen you in a million billion years.”

 

“You're right. It has been such a very long time,” he said, trying not to laugh. He glanced over at Miles. “I think you have your answer, Chief.”

 

“Four place settings it is,” the engineer said, tipping a mock salute his way.

 

Despite his exhaustion, he was happy to be there. Molly finished her work without need of further prompting and settled down, leaning her back against his stomach while he leaned his back against the bottom of the sofa. She took one of his hands. “This little piggy went to market,” she said, wiggling his thumb.

 

“Are you sure it was that one?” he asked mischievously. “It wasn't this one?” He wiggled his ring finger.

 

“No,” she said firmly, pinning him with a glare that was pure Keiko. “That little piggy...” she screwed up her face in thought. “That one had no roast beef.”

 

“Because he didn't go to market,” Julian said.

 

“Nuh uh,” she said, exasperated. “Wait.” She frowned fiercely. “Stop...stop confusing me.”

 

“But you said he didn't go to market,” he teased.

 

“You,” she leaned in so close her nose touched his, “are the biggest silly ever.”

 

“That's a very big silly,” he said solemnly.

 

“Very big,” she agreed. She glanced over at the dining table. “I'm going to get Mommy,” she announced, pushing off of him with both hands to stand and striding into the bedroom.

 

Julian sat up and smiled slightly over at Miles. “Need any help over there?”

 

“Oh, sure, you ask after the table is already set,” the man said, grinning. He glanced toward the bedroom. “You're really good with her. Thanks for givin' Keiko a little down time.”

 

He forced himself to his feet, afraid he might fall asleep if he sat there on the floor much longer. “If I ever have a normal work schedule again, I wouldn't mind sitting for the two of you sometimes. We have fun together.”

 

“Y' don't know what you're gettin' into,” he said with a soft snort, “but I just might take you up on that offer.”

 

“How are things?” he asked, stepping close enough not to be overheard from the next room.

 

“Won't lie to you,” he answered in kind. “Some days it's damned difficult, but it's gettin' a little easier. I said some hard things t' you...”

 

Julian shook his head quickly. “Nothing that mattered. I knew where it was coming from.”

 

“All th' same, I'm sorry for it,” Miles said. “You're...well, it's like you said t' me. You're one of th' best friends I've ever had.”

 

“Oh, Miles, you set the table,” Keiko said from the bedroom door, a smile in her voice.

 

“Molly told me in no uncertain terms not t' wake you up,” he said, patting Julian's shoulder and stepping past him to go to her and give her a tight hug. “And she told me no yucky food, so I decided we'd eat Cardassian tonight.”

 

“Ewwww!” Molly said instantly. “The meat is greeeeen!”

 

If Julian didn't misjudge, Keiko looked a little green, too. “He's kidding,” he said quickly. “I saw him make the selection. It's shepherd's pie.”

 

They all sat down together, and Miles served. It was a very pleasant dinner. It went a long way toward easing his concern about his friend. Miles seemed relaxed and content with the company. Keiko looked a lot more at ease for having had a nap and was much less short tempered with Molly. Like the sponge that all small children seemed to be, Molly picked up on her mother's more relaxed vibes and behaved herself, even taking her plate to the replicator without having to be asked. Julian colored with her for a little while because he had said he would. Keiko must have noticed his drooping eyes. She rescued him after only about ten minutes, starting Molly on her getting ready for bed ritual early with the promise of two extra stories for bedtime.

 

Miles watched her retreat into the back and looked back to Julian. “I think she's tryin' t' give us a little conversation time. You look too beat for it. I wouldn't normally kick you out. That's more your job, takin' care of the rest of us. This time I'm going to insist, though. Go get some sleep. You didn't have to come checkin' up on me after the week you've had.”

 

“I didn't have to in order to want to,” he said. “Normally, I'd argue with you. Mark this on your calendar, because I'm leaving without so much as a whisper of protest.”

 

Miles smiled and walked him to the door with a hand on his shoulder. He drew him in for a quick, one armed hug and sent him off with a wave. Julian maintained his facade of life until the door closed and felt himself sag inward. He probably should have gone straight home instead of making that detour. He couldn't regret it, for although he desperately needed sleep, he was in just as much need of normalcy and human contact that didn't involve twisted, injured flesh, faces contorted in pain, and worried relatives crowding him and asking him questions he couldn't always answer.

 

When he reached his own quarters, he collapsed face down on his sofa, unable to muster enough energy to make it to the bedroom. He slept hard and long, missing the initial ping of his automated alarm and almost running late for work the next morning. Something smelled off in the turbolift. He was mortified when he realized it was him. Thankfully, the infirmary had sonic showers. He took advantage of one the moment he could grab five minutes to himself.

 

He intended to try to have lunch with Leeta. Dax interrupted those plans before he had the chance to contact her. “Guess what,” she said, popping her head around his office door jamb.

 

“You finally asked Worf on a date,” he said.

 

She rolled her eyes. “No.” Stepping the rest of the way into his office, she grinned. “Picture this. You...me...and Nerys...all alone in a runabout fitted with brand new sensor arrays, flying through the Gamma Quadrant on a bio-survey...”

 

He grinned in spite of himself. “You got clearance for the Gavara survey,” he said.

 

“Yep,” she said, blue eyes shining. “We leave tomorrow. Think you can tear yourself away from this place for a few days?”

 

He greeted the news with mixed feelings. Being away from the infirmary would be a wonderful change of pace, but it would mean he couldn't spend the time with Leeta he sensed they needed or catch up with Garak. “You know me,” he said with forced cheer. “I can't resist the call of the wide open frontier.”

 

“I knew you'd be happy,” she said, bouncing once on her toes. “I'm off to spread the cheer to Nerys. Why don't you come with me, and we can all do lunch?”

 

He stood and eyed her askance. “You know she's not going to like the news,” he said. “She hates the Gamma Quadrant. You just want someone to share the blame.”

 

She opened her mouth in mock shock. “Julian Bashir, what a suspicious man you've become! Is it so hard to believe I might just want your company?”

 

“On the verge of being trapped on a runabout with me for days? You could say I'm fostering a bit of skepticism,” he said. “Come on. Dragging out the inevitable won't make things any better when we reach Kira.”

 

She tucked her arm in his and bumped his shoulder with her cheek. “That's what I love about you,” she said cheerfully. “Yours is not to wonder why. Yours is just to do or die.”

 

“The longer this wrangling with the Dominion goes on, the less I find to like about that poem,” he said very dryly.

 

Kira took the news about as well as he expected and had plenty of choice words for both of them over lunch. By the end of the day, he calculated he had approximately an hour to get himself to Leeta's quarters and try to squeeze in some quality time. Then she would be off to work, and she'd be dead asleep when it was time for him to leave on the next mission. “Perfect,” he muttered to himself, sighing.