AN: I've been away for awhile. Thank you to everyone who has stuck around and kept this story or my profile on their watch list. Username changed, but same author. I wasn't in a great place for a long time last year, and it led to some serious writer's block. I took some time and worked on myself, and now I'm coming back to this story with fresh energy and a happier, healthier mindset! (Also: I finished my undergrad! Yayy!)

So, anyway, without further adieu: Welcome back, everybody! Let's continue from where we left off…!

"Headache?" Kira asked as they waited in Ops for the Trill ship to come up on the scanners. Jadzia just nodded, eyes remaining shut for a moment, brow knit and contorted by the throbbing pain that had followed her from sleep that morning.

"How long have you had it?"

"What?"

"The headache."

"Oh."

It was a good question. Actually, now that Jadzia thought about it, she couldn't be sure. The dull ache seemed to have been tailing her, always within arms reach, coming and going like waves against a seashore, for quite some time now. Maybe even since she'd re-materialized.

"I'm not sure."

"Did you mention it to Dr. Bashir?"

Jadzia shrugged. "He gave me a clean bill of health. Nearly shoved me out his office, too."

"Well you have been under a lot of stress." But it was clear from the Colonel's expression how that answer satisfied none of her concerns. A thinly veiled fear draped itself over the conversation, light as the first dusting of an early Winter's snow. Does this have to do with the transporter accident? Were the connections in her synaptic pathways too weak and tenuous? Was she somehow going to degrade and fade away? Would losing her twice be twice as terrible as it had been the first time?

"I tried to send a message to Quo'NoS last night," Jadzia said.

"You did?" Kira sounded both parts surprised and relieved.

Jadzia nodded. "Worf's on a ship out on some kind of scouting mission deep into the Neutral Zone for the next several weeks. They couldn't send anything through official channels for fear of giving away their location."

"Oh…"

"But…" and this was the first time Jadzia broke a smile that morning, looking up at Kira with a twinkle in her eyes, "I was able to get Martok on the line."

"He must've been excited to see you."

She nodded. "Chancellorship looks good on him. He said there might have been another way to get a brief message to Worf's ship." At Kira's encouragement, Dax went on to elaborate, "They sent a short radiation burst. It'll look like regular subspace interference to the untrained eye."

Kira still seemed confused. "But not to Worf's vessel?"

Dax nodded. "Think of it like an intergalactic smoke signal. But it had to be brief to not arouse suspicion along any of the Romulan listening posts." Apparently, as she'd learned from Martok last night, without the Dominion War and a common enemy, the Klingons and Romulans had slipped back into their old rivalry.

"What could you send that would be short enough to not be detected but still let Worf know you're alive again?" It wasn't exactly like that was a story easily abbreviated.

Jadzia's eyes were distant. She looked out the view screen, far beyond Bajor's stars, and smiled. "He'll know…" was all she said.

Then, suddenly, she rose to her feet. "There!" she said, aiming her chin to the main viewscreen as she went over to her old control station, "The Trill transport vessel… They're hailing us."

"Hailing frequencies open."

Appearing on the viewscreen was a thin, weasley looking man with neatly combed hair and a somber expression. Lightly colored spots trailed down either side of his face and neck. His forehead was made up of a large, flat crest that stemmed from his nose and over his eyebrows, giving his face the distinct impression of the letter "Y".

"Space station Deep Space Nine," he said in a voice deeper than expected from a man with such a thin frame. "This is Trill Transport Vessel, Jericho, requesting permission to dock."

"Permission granted, Jericho," Kira answered, "You'll find an open docking port along the port side of the upper pylon. If you link your navigation to the station's systems we can set the computer to guide you in."

"Negative, station," came the reply, "We will dock manually."

Kira couldn't help but throw a glance in Jadzia's direction, who only shrugged in reply. Though somewhat confused, the Colonel saw no reason to refuse the man. "Alright. We'll meet you at docking port three."

The man nodded and the screen went blank.

"Charming," said Kira, "isn't he?"

Jadzia gave a slight laugh as she got up from the science station and they each moved to the Cardassian lift, "Guardians aren't known for their interpersonal skills. That is, at least, interpersonal skills with humanoids."

"What were those markings on his forehead?"

"The forehead ridges?" Jadzia asked. Kira nodded. "Trill lineage split several centuries ago. Some have markings," she pointed to her own spots that ran along her neck, "Most, actually. Others, though, have a uniform bone growth over the brow line."

"But he had both."

Jadzia shrugged, "Biracial pregnancies are known to happen from time to time. It's difficult to carry the child to term, but not impossible." Discussing the topic of a difficult pregnancy brought to Dax's mind a grim and looming sadness, recalling the conversation and subsequent revelation about Worf's and her own desire for a child. And though it was in part the kick in the teeth Jadzia had needed to finally reach out to him, she'd be lying if she said the concept of having that particular memory returned to her, linked with the knowledge that ultimately their plans had been cut short, wasn't something she was exactly looking forward to. Nor a more vivid recollection of her own death in the Bajoran shrine. She began to take several deep, slow breaths to steady herself.

Kira watched her friend through sidelong glances, but chose to say nothing. Instead, she pressed her commbadge and called for Ezri.

"Here," answered Ezri over the line.

"The Trill ship just came into orbit. Meet us at the docking ring."

"Understood."

Kira and Jadzia road the lift in silence and waited for Ezri to join them before walking to the airlock. Dr. Bashir had also come along, a medical tricorder holstered to his hip. "We've converted one of the surgery rooms in the infirmary with the specifications on file from your last zhian'tara."

Jadzia nodded, "That should be enough. I assume the Guardian should have everything else with him."

The ship docked and after a few minutes a tall man exited with a large shoulder pack slung across his thin frame and a rolling case, presumably filled with a sample of the chemically treated waters from the symbionte caves on the Trill homeworld.

"This was a difficult journey to make," were the first words he spoke, "Most unconventional."

"I'm sorry if it was any trouble," said Ezri when Kira appeared momentarily at a loss for words, "The Symbiosis Commission didn't seem too concerned when I spoke with them."

The Guardian never even turned his head. If he'd heard Ezri speak, which it seemed impossible for him to have not, he made no indication of it.

Instead, he locked eyes with Kira, "I spoke with you on the hail. You are in change of this station? Have preparations been made?"

Slowly, the Colonel looked to Ezri, who seemed equally perplexed by the man's strange behavior. "… Yes, that's right. But you'd have to ask Dr. Bashir about that."

On cue, Dr. Bashir stepped forward and extended his hand. "That would be me. Doctor Bashir. Or 'Julian,' if you prefer. And yes, all the preparations have been made. I can show you to the room we've converted for the ritual." After a brief, disdainful look, the Guardian accepted the doctor's hand weakly in his own.

Finally, the Guardian looked to Jadzia. "You are Dax?"

"Yes…" Jadzia said, before motioning to Ezri, "And so is she."

The Guardian barely glanced at Ezri. When he did, he looked down his nose at her, seemingly disapproving. "Yes. Well, I will go with your doctor and make the preparations."

He walked off with Dr. Bashir, leaving the three women behind outside of the airlock. All with listless expressions.

"What was that about?" asked Kira.

"I'm not sure," said Ezri.

"Does he know you?"

Both Ezri and Jadzia shared a confused look before shaking their heads.

"Strange."

"Very."

The Guardian looked about the room, scrutinizing the environment. He began to unpack his bags to set things up for the makeshift ritual. "Nothing like this has ever happened to a joined Trill before. There is a chance any attempt to transfer the memories back into the Dax symbionte may fail."

"Well, I'm certain we can figure something out," Dr. Bashir answered, "But, correct me if I'm mistaken, but they aren't transferring the memories so much as they are copying them, yes? Ezri will still have her memories of the Dax symbionte's lives."

"That has never been done before."

"I thought—"

"It was my understanding that the girl did not wish to be joined."

"Well, maybe not initially, but Ezri—"

"Then she should be happy to be rid of them."

He said nothing more, returning to his work, and Dr. Bashir felt some of the color bleed from his features. "Yes, well, if there's nothing else you need from me at the moment…"

"You may go," said the tall man. "Please return with a light modulator. The resonance of the artificial lighting in here may be harmful to the proteins in the pool."

"I'll see what I can come up with," said Julian, and he rushed from the room to find Kira and Dax.

As it so happened, Kira was the first of the group he ran into.

"They can't copy the memories?" she said once he'd recounted the conversation. She sounded both confused and outraged. Much a reflection of how the doctor, himself, was beginning to feel.

"Apparently not."

"But they aren't even going to try?"

"He didn't sound too interested in going above and beyond the call of duty."

"What the hell is his problem?" said the Colonel, no longer able to contain her agitation, "And at the airlock, he barely even looked at Ezri. He talked about her like she wasn't even in the room! And now he's not going to help her keep her memories?"

"He was under the impression she would be thankful to be rid of them."

"I don't buy that for a minute."

They started towards the Replimat. Kira was silent for a few beats before saying, "... Would she?"

"I… don't know," Bashir answered, honestly, "I suppose we were just operating under the assumption that Ezri would still want to be Dax, given the choice. But…"

"But she never wanted to be joined to begin with."

"But now that she is…"

"I know."

"What if…?"

"I know."

They shared a look and each wondered if they were about to lose one friend in the process of gaining back another.

"Has anyone ever tried to keep the memories after a zhian'tara?" Julian asked after he'd retold the story of his interaction with the guardian for a second time. Both Daxes had fallen silent and set about staring at their standard issue replicated cafeteria trays.

"That I know of, the last time anything like that happened was when Odo wanted to keep Curzon's memories," Jadzia said, noting the way the mention of Odo's name made Kira grip her fork a little more tightly. She set a hand over her friend's forearm, but it didn't seem to help the Colonel settle.

"Ezri," Kira said after a long pause, "You haven't said anything. How're you feeling about this?"

As six eyes settled on the young Trill, Ezri felt a burning heat radiating up her neck that turning her ears red. Her eyes were on her hands, folded neatly in her lap. They were shaking. Almost imperceivable.

"I don't know," she finally said.

"There might be a way we could replicate the memories," Julian said, his genetically enhanced mind beginning to race as calculations and theories flew around inside his skull, "Perhaps we could scan you both as the Guardian transfers the memories. If we can get a read on the physical changes the ritual has on your bodies, there's a chance we could emulate the reaction, duplicating the synaptic patterns. Sort of like an old printing press copying from a proof, or maybe-"

"Do you want these memories?" Jadzia asked.

The table went quiet. Ezri looked up at Jadzia, and her eyes were large, but empty.

"Well, of course she does," Dr. Bashir answered, but it came out sounding more like a question, "I mean… don't you, Ezri?"

"I… I, well, I'm not…" Her face was turning red. Right at that moment, Dr. Bashir's comm badge chirped, and the relief for the diversion was evident in everyone's features.

"Yes?"

"Dr. Bashir," came the monotone voice of the Trill Guardian, "The preparations are satisfactory. Please bring the patient before the chemicals in the pool begin to degrade." Before Bashir could correct him, asking if he meant to bring both of the patients, the call had already been ended.

"The sooner that gargoyle is off this station," Kira said as they were all momentarily distracted, "The better."

"We should begin," said the Guardian not so much as a moment after the quartet entered the dimly lit space. As he stood over the flickering flames, the shadows and highlights danced about his gangly features, casting odd shadows from the crest above his nose. His pale skin attracted the orange glow, and that, coupled with his grave and unemotional tone, gave off the impression of a ghostly spectre rather than a man.

"We still have a few questions," Doctor Bashir began to say.

"Trill rituals are intimate, aliens should not be present for them."

"But," Ezri said, subconsciously reaching out to grip Julian's hand in hers, "These are my friends. They were even hosts at my last zhain-"

"The ritual may fail if there are distractions present." The Guardian looked to Jadzia, casting little more than a disdainful sneer at Ezri as he cut her off, "Please, ask your friends to respect our customs."

Only at a loss for words for but a moment, both Jadzia and Kira visibly tensed at the stranger's latest in long line of dogmatic gestures. But, as Kira took a step forward, beginning, "Now, just a minute-" Jadzia was already placing a hand on her friend's shoulder and locking eyes with the Guardian. Seeing as she seemed to be the only one he was giving the time of day, the Colonel begrudgingly yielded as Jadzia's cold glare contrasted with the warm light of the fire as she stepped closer to the pit.

"I'd like to know something," she began, nearing the gangly man with each sharply-uttered syllable. She nearly matched him in height, but, unlike him, she wore hers with the confidence of a trained Klingon warrior. The Guardian tensed slightly. "Why is it that every time she speaks," Jadzia motioned behind her towards Ezri, "You look like you've just smelled a rotting vole carcass."

"Well- I, just-" he stammered, clearly surprised by having been so plainly accosted.

"I thought you Guardians were taught to respect the symbiontes,"

"We most certainly are. That you'd even suggest I-"

"And you have the audacity to talk down to a Dax? Who, I'll remind you, among our many lives has been one of the first female legislators, headed the symbiosis commission, been a diplomat who all but single-handedly end the conflict between the Federation and Klingons, was an engineer to revolutionize the warp seven engine-"

"She's not one of those-"

"Like hell she isn't!"

"Well she shouldn't be!" In one sudden, enraged motion, the Guardian thrust the railing that housed the symbionte pool beside him, and the entire contraption came clattering down. The fire toppled over and ignited the protein pool as emergency lights began to flash as the computer's automated fire suppression system kicked in. While Bashir, Ezri, and Kira flinched and each went about stamping out the places where the chemicals began burning a hole through the carpeting, Jadzia moved hardly a muscle as she and the Guardian starred each other down, noses nearly touching.

In his agitation, the man stood huffing and puffing with such animation he looked more like a caricature than actual flesh and blood, and his features contorting as one of the ridges along his forehead pulsated visibly. Slowly, Jadzia began to nod, slowly, a knowing look behind her eyes.

"You were passed up by the Initiate program, weren't you?"

Everyone turned to look at the Guardian, whose mouth hung open, slightly, as if Dax had just read aloud a page from his personal logs.

Finally, he said, "I was deemed… biologically unsuitable for joining, yes." The tone was bitter and dead on his lips. Words repeated to the point of no longer carrying meaning.

Ezri silently gasped as she made the same realization as Jadzia. "You were denied from the program because of your mixed lineage."

For the first time, the Guardian turned and looked the shorter woman in the eye. Ezri grit her teeth and refused to so much as blink.

"The Symbiosis Commission believed my genetic makeup too unpredictable to be considered as a host candidate."

"So that means you should take it out on Ezri?" Julian asked.

"No," Ezri answered this time, flatly, "It means he doesn't understand why I was lucky enough to get the Dax symbionte."

"You were joined out of necessity," Bashir answered, still obviously baffled by the Guardian's attitude.

"He thinks I'm… ungrateful."

"Aren't you?" he said. The vacuum of space could hardly rival the silence that filled the room then. After a long game of chicken, Ezri lowered her gaze. The Guardian went on, "Do you have any idea how infamous you are? The poor, lost, little girl, doomed to be given one of the highest honors on Trill."

"I never asked for this," but the fight was out of her voice.

"They should have removed Dax from you the instant you landed on the homeworld."

"She might have died!" said Doctor Bashir.

"Or Dax might have died! Dax might still die if she's unsuitable biologically."

"This has nothing to do with the safety of the Dax symbionte," Jadzia said coldly, physically moving herself in between the Guardian's line of sight and Ezri. "This is you taking out your frustrations from the Commission's rejection of your application."

The Guardian straightened up, and his voice returned to its cool monotone, "Perhaps," he said, "But that's your opinion. And it that doesn't mean I'm going to cry over the thought of the symbionte's memories being returned to its rightful host. I was sent out here to do a job. Now, would you like me to complete it, or not?"

"This is ridiculous," Kira said later, pacing around the upper level at Quark's. The group had retired there for the evening following the emphatic encounter with the Trill Guardian. It would take at least a day to synthesize a new batch of the liquid the symbionte's used for their telepathic links to hosts, anyway, after having let that which had been brought from the Trill homeworld seep into the infirmary's carpet.

"It is ridiculous, isn't it?" asked the Colonel when the only response she seemed to be getting was the dejected stares from her counterparts. She sat across from Ezri and said, "I'll call first thing in the morning to the Trill Symbiosis Commission and demand they send us a different guardian. If you think for even a second I'll let somebody talk to one of my officers aboard my station like that, I'll-"

She cut herself off when Jadzia began to laugh.

"-And what exactly is so funny?"

By this point, Julian had caught the bug, too, and they were each snickering into their drinks.

"It's just, well," Jadzia shrugged, "You sound like such a diplomat."

The look of astonished offense that took up the Colonel's face in response only set the two off laughing harder. And it wasn't long before Ezri cracked a smile as well, tried as she did to hide it, and began to laugh. And, from there, it was only a matter of time before even Kira was laughing at herself, shaking her head in frustration.

For just a brief moment, things felt just like old times.

But they weren't, and it wasn't long before the laughing died down and the reality of the evening settled back down upon them all. And it was ultimately Jadzia who voiced the question on everyone else's mind:

"Well?" she said, placing a gentle hand on Ezri's arm, "What do you want to do?"

"Don't ask me that," Ezri said, looking anywhere but at her friends.

"It's your decision. Nobody else can make it but you."

Ezri sighed and looked out over the balcony, watching the Dabo wheels spin around and around and around…

"I'm sick of making decisions," she said, "I had to make one on the Destiny, I had to make one back on Earth with Benjamin, I've had to make half a dozen or more on here - first with Garak, then Nog… I'm tired of being the 'only one' who can make a decision for someone else's life."

"That's part of the job," said Julian.

"That's part of life," said Nerys.

Ezri felt Jadzia's thumb make small, calming circles against her skin.

It was only later that evening, alone, in her quarters - "I'm sorry, Julian, I just… need to be alone right now. You understand, don't you?" - that she was able to admit to herself the last thread holding her back.

That maybe, maybe, it would be nice to have Ezri Tigan back.

AN: Next chapter coming soon :)