Consolation Prize
By GreenCat3
I've had this J/J ficlet in my head for at least three months now. I'm writing it now because it's February 14. Well, happy Valentine's Day and all that. Set after the episode "Prophet Motive". Oh, and I don't own nhwe, or its description (basically verbatim). That's the intellectual property of Diane Duane. There are no indents because indents are unnecessary, I mean, becauseQuickEdit won't allow indents, even after I've manually added them, because it deletes them. So, no indents. Sorry.
"You seem to be handling this very well," Jadzia Dax whispered, a comforting hand on her friend's shoulder.
"Believe me," Julian Bashir said, his smile strained as everyone else left, murmuring quiet condolences, "I'm not."
"I didn't think so," Dax replied. Bashir had been up for the Carrington Award, a top medical honor. He had glumly predicted he wouldn't win, and the human had been proven right.
A few minutes later, Dax and Bashir were left alone in the wardroom. Bashir sighed deeply. "You don't have to stay, Jadzia, I'll be all right."
"No, I want to," she said firmly. "Besides, I brought this." She held out a bottle full of dark-blue liquid to him. "I thought you might win, but this can be your consolation prize."
Bashir took the bottle and studied the label closely. "But this is…" He drew in his breath sharply. "My God, Jadzia…" Julian looked up. "Jadzia, this is hestv nhwe!"
Nhwe was a drink that contained a neuropressor hormone, which in most hominid chemistries enhanced the drinker's current emotional state. Because of its unique properties, it was highly difficult to obtain, because a mere case of ennui could become suicidal depression with a glass of the stuff. It tasted like machinist's oil, but in the opinion of most was well worth it.
"I know what it is," the Trill said, playfully snatching the bottle back. "And I'm not going to let you have any until you get out of this—this state you're in. Come on, cheer up. Think positive."
Bashir obeyed, trying to find a good emotion for this moment. Happiness? Why should he be happy? He had just lost a major award! No, what he was experiencing was like happiness, but unlike. And that's when it clicked. Love. He was in love.
"Erm, Jadzia…" The doctor cleared his throat. "Listen, this may sound silly, but…ever since we met on the shuttle here, I've—I've always felt this attraction to you. At first, I thought it was just a crush, when I was always chasing you around. But now… now I suppose is as good a time as any. I…I think I love you, Jadzia Dax."
Julian bowed his head. God, he felt foolish. He was sure his cheeks were turning red. His embarrassment was interrupted by a little giggle from his colleague.
"Well, well, well, all this and not even a glass yet?" She asked with a smirk, raising an eyebrow. "I think we can start now. Oh, don't be embarrassed," she said, grinning at him. "I knew all along." Before he could say anything, she held up a finger. "Three hundred years of experience, remember? I can tell when someone's in love with me." Dax poured two glasses and handed one to the doctor.
"And don't worry," she said mischievously as they clicked glasses, "I think I love you too."
They drained their glasses and set them down on the table. "So," Julian said evenly.
"So," Jadzia replied, just as cool.
Bashir slowly turned around in a circle. "I don't feel any different."
"Neither do I."
They both laughed, relieved. "Well, that's the end of that," Bashir said, looking at Dax. Blue eyes met golden-brown, and before either of them knew it, they were both locked in a passionate kiss, entirely at a loss as to who started it. And neither of them cared.
Maybe, Bashir thought dimly, I'm not the loser after all.
Happy V-day, all!
