The Best Medicine
By Laura Schiller
Based on Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Copyright: Paramount
"Excuse me."
Ezri made a dash for the refresher, effectively breaking off the conversation about Jadzia's crates of gagh. It was her own stupid fault for bringing up the subject in the first place. Now she couldn't stop thinking about them – the ones that jumped in your mouth, the ones marinated in blood, the ones with feet …
She splashed cold water on her face and leaned above the sink, staring at her face in the mirror and taking deep breaths. Her face looked positively chalky in front of the gray toilet stall doors, her black spots standing out like flies on a corpse. Now why couldn't she think of a better metaphor than that?
"You were crazy, Jadzia," she whispered into the mirror. "You and Curzon both. Why did I have to be stuck with you as my last hosts?"
She could almost see Jadzia's smirk in response. Her own face in the mirror, however, remained deadly serious and very pale.
It wouldn't be so bad, she thought, if it were anyone else's gagh. But Jadzia had ordered it, in happy anticipation of Worf's birthday. She had planned it so lovingly, keeping it secret in order to surprise him. But today Jadzia was dead, and in no condition to enjoy gagh, her husband's birthday, or anything else. And in her place was Ezri, on whom those fifty-one celebratory crates of gagh were entirely wasted.
When she was reasonably sure she would not lose her breakfast down that sink, Ezri left the refresher – only to find Julian coming out of the opposite door, also pale underneath his tan. Water droplets shimmered on his cheeks and at the roots of his brown hair.
They took one look at each other – and laughed.
"Oh, no," said Ezri. "Was it the gagh? I'm sorry … "
"No, no, that's all right," he said in his soft British voice, waving away her apology. "My imagination got away from me. I remembered the one time I set foot in the Klingon restaurant – er, never mind. Do you know what I like best about gagh?" he asked, his hazel eyes recovering their twinkle of mischief.
"No, what?"
"The grammatical oddity it creates. Have you ever noticed? Usually, when we talk about several living creatures, we mention them in the plural, right? One goose, two geese. But just now – you said 'b'thool gagh has feet'. Why didn't you say they have feet?" He grinned.
The sheer randomness of the question made her giggle. "Um … I don't know … I guess because that's the way the Klingons say it?"
"Right. Because food is singular – we say, Terran spaghetti is good, even though there are a lot of noodles on one plate. Of course there are always exceptions – "
"You're a very strange man, Doctor," said Ezri, laughing outright now.
He took a little bow. "Why, thank you, Lieutenant."
"Feeling better now?"
"Yes. You?"
"Definitely."
"The next time you feel – out of sorts, come to the infirmary, all right? And before you ask, I do have better remedies than bad jokes."
He winked. She rolled her eyes.
Yes, she really did feel much better. In fact, she felt like having some nice warm scones with tea this afternoon. Jadzia hadn't cared for scones; Ezri loved them. Perhaps she'd even ask a certain Doctor to join her.