Disclaimer: ST: DS9 and all related characters owned by Paramount Studios, no
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---
...that was the first thing I had to learn about her, and maybe the hardest
I've ever learned about
anything-that she is her own, and what she gives me is of her choosing, and the
more precious because
of it. Sometimes a butterfly will come to sit in your open palm, but if you
close your hand, one way or
another, it-and it's choice to be there-are gone. -Barbara Hambly, Dragonsbane
---

"Always driven toward new shores,or carried hence without hope of return, shall
we never, on the ocean
of age, cast anchor for even a day?"

"I know Worf has been contacting you regularly, Dax, but isn't that a bit
depressing for Klingon love
poetry?" The smooth, slightly foreign voice tickled her ears from behind.

"Oh...no." Glancing up with a faintly distracted smile, Ezri Dax stuffed her
padd under an arm, matching
stride with Deep Space Nine's doctor as he strode along the promenade. "Julian,
it's a quotation, old
Earth, by Alphonse de Lamartine. Nog found it in the database and
became...well, fascinated. I've been
sure to put in extra time with him since the Jem'Hadar attacked the station..."

"And the Defiant." Grim tones to reflect grim memories. Time had passed since
the attack itself, but fears
and haunts were fresh. Nog and Ezri had been on the Defiant. Had saved the
station, in fact. Become
heroes. Heroism had led to career changes for the counselor and more counseling
for the boy. Sparing a
glance, he touched her elbow just slightly, drawing attention back from the
padd. "It certainly looks like
his enthusiasm for morbidity has you fascinated."

"It's a very good quote, Julian." Angling her head up, the young Trill smiled.
"I can see his point.
Sometimes we all get so swept away in war and business that we forget to
savor..." Voice trailing off, she
paused. "You're still uncomfortable with my co-commanding the Gamma Quadrant
expedition, aren't
you?"

"I think you could use a little more experience under your pips."

"Three hundred years isn't enough?"

"Dax, Dax...Ezri." He caught her arms, voice dipping. "I've no doubt you will
someday be a fine command
officer. Ezri Tiegan had the makings. Dax simply provides a ready made window."

"You think I'm riding up the rank ladder on memories that aren't even mine.
Well, they are mine, Julian,
as mine as they were Curzon's, or Joran's, or Jadzia's..."

"Don't turn this to Jadzia."

"Worf hasn't."

There, again. He felt the frustration building up, exasperation mingling with
affection. Somehow, without
raising her tones, Ezri managed to convey all the contempt in the universe for
her predecessor-at least,
his adoration of that predecessor.

She looked away again, motioning him to a corner, hands resting on her hips.
"Julian, I refuse to argue
like children over the dead, or those the dead left behind. My decision to
follow command aspirations isn't
about Jadzia at all, it's about not being Jadzia, or any of the others. They
gave me a great deal, helped
me understand that I could do the job properly, but that's all they did, made
me understand that I could
follow childhood dreams. I've always wanted this. Ezri Tiegan wanted it before
Ezri Dax, and Dax may
never want it again after Ezri. You see? I know my mind, even among the rest of
them."

"If you say so."

Poking him in the ribs lightly, the Trill took the doctor's arm, leading him
into Quark's. "I've been here
nearly as long as the rest of you, Julian, in memory, and I still wouldn't
presume to say I've experienced
the half of your troubles...but I have suffered. Ezri may be young and
inexperienced, but Dax is ancient.
Part of growing old is finding new priorities. Looking back and pulling up old
dreams, old desires. The Trill
may just be the only species lucky enough to have the chance to actually
fulfill those old desires, instead
of simply regretting them on a deathbed."

"Precisely." Catching her elbow again, the doctor waved Quark away, leaning
forward on his stool. "I
watched Jadzia Dax die, and saw her husband nearly follow in grief. I'll not be
on the other side of the
experience simply because you want a red undershirt."

"You like undermining the grander things, do you?" Smiling again, with less
amusement, she cupped his
hands in her palm. "I won't refuse the assignment. You won't be on the other
side of the deathbed
experience, either..."

"You have no way of knowing that. The mission is dangerous, very dangerous,
Dax, and you have to
consider the risks, not as Ezri, not as a counselor, not as my..." He rubbed
his head tiredly. "Consider the
symbiont."

"I have. Every day since I woke up with the slug in me." Ezri pulled his head
down, meeting his gaze
firmly. "Now, respectfully, I've told myself to shut up. Things are changing,
Julian. I can't stay the same
just to give everyone else leverage."

He sighed. "I suppose I'll miss you, Counselor Ezri Tiegan Dax."

The Trill held a hand over her chest briefly in mock parody of pledge. "I'll
come back to you in any
incarnation, Julian."

"Now if only the captain would manage the same." Head rising, the doctor
narrowed his eyes. "This
command stint isn't somehow connected to Sisko, is it, Dax?"

"Well, I suppose I have taken a few interests from him over the years..."

"Ezri!"

"But really, Julian, I have enough sense not to change career tracks for it.
Besides, Ben was on the
mentoree side at times instead."

"Jadzia was a battle-ax." He agreed carefully, wincing in remembrance of the
more forceful moments.

"I was referring to Curzon."

"Ah, so even joined Trill women stick together in a fight."

"You're incorrigible."

"Counseling required?"

"You'll just have to make an appointment with my assistant. I have briefings
with Nerys."

"Neglectful girl. Your assistant isn't half as endearing. I'll wait."

"Then you get a private session, lucky you."

"You make it sound as if it's a familiar gift."

"Oh, I've given one or two. To a grieving widower." Her eyes sparkled gleefully
across the table.

"Isn't that against some Trill law of yours? Cohorting with former spouses?"

"We were in a prison, Julian. We thought we were going to die." Her voice
dipped somberly.

"Balderdash. That Klingon will never die. Death wishes don't sink through that
thick forehead of his."
Grasping both hands in his, he strove for lightness.

"You're afraid for me. Well, I understand. I'm afraid for myself at times.
Counseling...is a safe career, for
the most part, but it doesn't offer the same thrill as the other tracks. Only
in some cases. Take Deanna
Troi, for instance..."

"Jadzia's very favorite."

A brief smile flashed. "Anyhow...Troi has made a very good niche for herself as
captain's advisor, her
empathic traits allow it. For the rest of us, the nonempaths,
nontelepaths...its not nearly as glamorous a
role. No amount of talking can help everyone, most of us have to walk ourselves
through our own
shadows. That's what I'm doing, I guess. Shadows be gone." Nodding, she clinked
her glass with his, and
smiled. "Do you understand?"

"I understand...shadows." His answer was slow, measured. "May we each find a
way to make them be
gone...without casting anchor in despair."

"You are a poet, well, thanks to Nog and Mr. Alphonse de Lamartine..."

"Just like you're now a command track officer, thanks to youthful dreams and
your infernal noncorporal
Ben. Worf too, probably."

"Well." Her lips curved. "We all have our weaknesses."

"Ezri." Raising his voice to catch her as she began to stride away, the doctor
shook his head. "Just be
careful."

"I'm the soul of caution, Julian." Waving a hand in dramatic dismissal, she
left.

"No, Dax." He shared a glance with Morn. "You're the soul of Jadzia. Very
frightening, that."

FIN