Show Them All
By Laura Schiller
Based on Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Copyright: Paramount
Ensign Ezri Dax, assistant counselor and all-around mess, sat huddled up in a ball against the walls of the Bajoran Temple, sobbing into her folded arms. She had never felt so miserable in her life … no, wait, she had. She remembered Jadzia's loss of the Dax symbiont, or her breakup with Lenara Kahn, or Audrid's estrangement from her daughter. The Dax symbiont held three hundred years' worth of broken hearts, and this new one was just the proverbial tip of the iceberg.
Benjamin's voice echoed in her mind, over and over. "You're not even worthy of wearing this uniform." He was right. That was why she'd tried to resign. But she simply couldn't believe that her closest friend in two lifetimes would speak to her like this, his familiar brown face twisted with contempt. If even Benjamin had lost his respect for her, she was truly lost.
And then there was Garak. Just the thought of the gray-faced, lizardlike Cardassian made her cringe. He had played her, she realized that now, spinning a tale for the little counselor about his father locking him in the closet; a textbook case of a Freudian explanation for his claustrophobia. And then he'd turned on her, with his mellifluous voice and slitted eyes, slicing away what little self-respect she had with cruel precision.
"You want to help other people? You can't even help yourself!"
Curzon would have challenged Garak to a bat'leth duel. Jadzia would have tossed her sleek brown ponytail and given him a witty comeback. Audrid, a powerful member of the Symbiosis Commission, wouldn't have given the slimy Cardassian the time of day.
Emony would have cried, too, though. And here she was, losing track of her hosts again. Who was she? Was there anything left of Ezri in the dazzling multilayered tapestry that was the lives of Dax?
"You're pathetic … a confused child … Jadzia was vital, alive, she owned herself! You don't even know who you are!"
Jadzia, Jadzia, Jadzia. Everyone, including the symbiont, seemed to be comparing her to her last host and finding her wanting. Jadzia had been tall; Ezri was short. Jadzia had been happily married to a gorgeous, passionate Klingon warrior, breaking several hearts on the way; Ezri had never had a boyfriend. Jadzia had charmed everyone she met; Ezri chattered like a schoolgirl and infected people with her nerves. Jadzia had been brave. Ezri wasn't. Witness her hiding in the very same dark, orange-lit temple where her brilliant predecessor had been shot by Gul Dukat.
Even Julian had told her she had Jadzia's eyes.
A step on the temple floor made her look up. A shadowy male figure stood there, backlit by the orange lights, his silhouette looking vaguely uniformed. She scrambled to her feet and wiped her eyes, her spots itching with humiliation. The last thng she needed was for her, a Starfleet counsellor, to be seen crying on the floor like the confused child Garak had labeled her!
"Good Lord!" exclaimed Julian Bashir – for he it was. Nobody else on the station spoke Federation English with such a beautiful accent.
"Ezri – what's the matter? Is there anything I can do?"
He didn't call her Dax. Just the sound of her own name warmed her heart a little.
"It's okay, Julian," she said. "It's just … it's private."
"Dax, I'm your friend. At least, I want to be. You know better than anyone how important it is to talk things over."
Ezri shook her head. "I can't! It's a matter of … patient confidentiality." She was still a counselor after all, if a very bad one, and Garak's malice was nobody's business but her own.
Julian's mind, however, seemed to be on the same track. "Weren't you supposed to be counseling Garak? Did he say anything - ? Ugh, I should have known!"
Ezri's blush and averted eyes were all the answer he needed. Julian threw up his hands.
"I warned him!" he exclaimed. "I told him to go easy on you, the old scoundrel! I am so sorry, Ezri," turning his brown eyes on her with a melting look of apology. "I never should have recommended him to you. He's a friend of sorts – but you already know that, don't you? – and I should have talked to him myself, instead of sending him to you."
"It's my own fault," she argued. "I'm the counselor. If I can't do my job right – "
"Did you cover Cardassians in your xenopsychology courses at all?"
"Not really … "
"Well, they're the ultimate challenge for a counselor. They hide behind layers and layers of false facades – the first thing they say to you is never what they really mean, even when it's the truth. It's what makes them such perfect spies. They believe 'the truth is only an excuse for a lack of imagination'."
He made a wry face, as if remembering something. Ezri found herself wearing Curzon's scowl, which must have looked odd on her little round face. That sounded like Garak, all right.
"The next time you talk to Garak," Julian continued, "Be subtle. No direct questions, he hates that. And remember – I have faith in you."
"In me or Jadzia?" Ezri burst out, before she could stop herself.
"Both," said Julian, smiling. "That's the beauty of being joined, isn't it? You have three hundred years of wisdom to fall back on, plus your own counselor's training, and your courage."
"My what?" Ezri could hear the blood pounding in her ears. When had anyone ever referred to her, not Dax, as having courage?
"You took on an enormous challenge to save the Dax symbiont's life," said Julian kindly. "It might have broken you, but here you are."
It still might, thought Ezri grimly. But she didn't really believe that anymore.
There was one more thing she had to say.
"Julian? Do I really have Jadzia's eyes?"
Because her face was the one thing that still belonged to Ezri alone, and she could not bear the thought of the dead woman's eyes staring at her from the mirror.
"Computer, lights," said Julian.
She flinched and screwed her eyes shut at the blinding light. They stood there for a few seconds, silently, until she gradually adjusted to the light.
Julian placed a warm finger under her chin and tipped her face up, leaning in so close she could feel his breath. He took a long look at her blue eyes, like an enchanted visitor in a museum.
"They're the same color," he finally said, "But yours are nicer."
She thought of how he had come up behind her at the replimat, as she struggled to sort through her eight previous hosts' favorite drinks, and ordered one for her. The 'toddy' had been warm and sweet and spicy, just what she liked. It was also miles away in taste from Jadzia's iced raktajinos. How had he guessed? It was amazing.
"Thank you, Julian," she said.
He stepped back and blinked, breaking eye contact.
"I hate to say this, Ezri," he said. "But Jadzia wasn't perfect. Don't torment yourself about living up to her. I don't know you very well, but when I look at you, I see a brave, compassionate young lady whom I'd like to get to know better. Anytime you need a listening ear, you can come to me."
Ezri thought of Julian's first days on the station, bouncing around like a puppy, alienating Major Kira by calling Bajoran space "the wilderness", shamelessly chasing after Jadzia. How much they had changed since then!
Julian had grown older, learned wisdom and humility in the shadow of the Dominion War. As for Ezri, not even three hundred years of Dax's memories could make up for her youth. They were on an equal footing now.
As for Jadzia, he was right. The memories were there, in her head, proving that her lovely, charming, brilliant predecessor was only a Trill after all. She had pushed her husband to take her to Risa, throw parties, and other things which harrowed up his stern Klingon soul. She had flirted with Quark and Julian to satisfy her own vanity. Ezri could never be like that.
"I'll keep that in mind," she said, smiling up at Julian in a way that was purely Ezri: soft, hesitant, but slowly growing until her face bloomed with joy.
"Take care," he said, crossing over to the altar, possibly to pray for Jadzia. Ezri found, to her relief, that the idea did not disturb her at all. Jadzia's soul should rest in peace (if, indeed, there was such a thing in Worf's Klingon afterlife!). It was kind of him to pray for her.
Ezri almost felt like praying herself, but that could wait for later. She was going to tackle Garak one more time.
The thought of that still made her stomach flip. He was a terrifying creature. But if Julian told her she could do it, then by her eight hosts, she would! She'd show them – Jadzia, Benjamin, and especially Garak himself – that she was worthy of Dax and her Starfleet uniform. Worthy of Julian's faith. She would show them all.