Chapter Eleven: Payback

"So, I don't have to worry about Ogravrett's anymore," Trystmar mused as Bashir prepared to release him from the infirmary.

"No," Bashir agreed. "The virus is still latent in your system, but your immune system should be able to handle it easily when it becomes active a little before the symptoms of Ogravrett's syndrome would normally appear. You'll probably feel ill for a few days, with similar symptoms as when I infected you, but much less severe."

"Will I need medical care?"

"I would advise it, if only as a precaution. I'm giving you your medical history on a data solid; you can share that with your doctor at the time. And after the illness, you would be wise to have the symbiont biopsied just to be sure it hasn't been reinfected. I don't think it will, but I'm sure you don't want to take chances."

"No, indeed," Trystmar agreed with a shudder. "Thank you again, Doctor."

Bashir merely nodded, still not entirely feeling he deserved Trystmar's thanks.

oOo

"I've returned for my aide," Bendris announced, entering Bashir's office nearly six months after he had left the station.

"I tried to stop him, sir," the nurse said apologetically, her anxious face appearing past Bendris' shoulder.

Bashir held up a hand. "That's all right, Antolar."

Nodding, she quietly slipped away, and Bashir turned his attention to his uninvited guest. "Your aide isn't here, sir, but he left this for you." He pulled a padd from a drawer, switching it on before passing it to Bendris.

Trystmar's letter of resignation came up automatically, and Bendris' face turned purple as he read it. Dr Bashir tensed, one hand hovering near his tricorder, ready to jump to his feet and give immediate aid if the man should suffer a heart attack or stroke.

"What-what is the meaning of this?" Bendris sputtered, leaning across the desk and jabbing a finger at the offending padd.

"I believe the meaning is quite clear, sir," Bashir said calmly, relaxing and leaning back in his chair as Bendris' color returned to a more normal shade, though still flushed with anger.

"But it says he's resigned as my aide and left the station. He can't do that; we have a contract!"

"The terms of which, as I believe he explains, allow him to leave your service at any time."

"But I never meant —"

"I know," Bashir admitted, a slight twinkle in his eye. "But as a lawyer I'm sure you're aware that the outcome of a case more often hinges on what a document actually says than what its author claims to have meant."

Bendris scowled. "Where is he?" he asked sullenly, reminding Bashir of a child who had been told he couldn't have what he wanted.

"I'm afraid I couldn't say."

"You mean you don't know?"

"I mean that if he did not leave you his address, I don't feel I'm at liberty to pass it on." He got to his feet. "I'm afraid I have patients to see, Mr Bendris, so good day to you."

"Now look here —"

"Mr Bendris," Bashir cut in firmly, "I really must ask you to leave. Will you go on your own, or do I need to call security?"

Bendris glared murderously for a moment, then spun around and stormed from the room; Bashir knew that if the door hadn't been automatic it would have been slammed loudly.

Grinning, he sat down and leaned back with his hands clasped behind his head — the patients he needed to see having been a fiction in order not to have his dismissal seem too rude — and thought about his last conversation with Trystmar.

They had been eating dinner together at Quark's on Trystmar's last day on the station.

"So, you've decided not to wait for Bendris?" Bashir questioned, accepting the padd Trystmar had just asked the doctor to give his former boss.

Trystmar nodded. "I'm no coward, but it strikes me that it would be a lot harder for him to kidnap me if he didn't know where I was."

Bashir chuckled.

"Besides," Trystmar added more seriously, "I don't see any need to wait around for him when he left no word when or even if he'll return."

"He'll be able to find you when you become famous," Bashir said half teasingly.

Trystmar shrugged. "Maybe I'll change my name — or if I do win a few high-profile cases, I'll have enough money to hire my own security."

"So, where are you going — or would you rather not tell me?"

Trystmar grinned. "I think I can trust you to keep it quiet. But so you won't have to lie, I'll wait and contact you in about a year."

Bashir shrugged. "It isn't that important."

"It is to me," Trystmar said quietly. "I intend to keep in touch with you, and if you're still practicing when the time comes, I want to be near enough to have you as my doctor when the virus becomes active."

Bashir quirked an eyebrow. "I'm surprised you still trust me."

"At the very least, you believe me; if you tell me the symbiont hasn't been reinfected, I'll know it's true and you're not just assuming it isn't because you think it can't be. Besides, I'm still not convinced you did anything wrong; you promised you'd cure Shan, and you did."

"I almost didn't," Bashir said quietly. "I gambled on a one-percent chance; since I won, it's easy to say now that I did the right thing. If I had lost, the Trill Council wouldn't have nearly as forgiving a view of it — and they would be right."

"Maybe," Trystmar conceded. "But you're talking as if my survival was purely a matter of odds. I didn't survive because I happened to be the lucky one percent; I don't even think I was. I survived because you're a talented and dedicated doctor who fought to save me in spite of the odds."

Bashir grinned. "Well, they accuse me of being arrogant, so you won't hear me deny it."

Trystmar grinned in return. "Good, because at the risk of sounding arrogant myself, I'm an excellent lawyer, and no mere doctor is going to win an argument with me."

"So, if you're so determined to be grateful to me, can I call in the favor if I ever need an 'excellent' lawyer?"

"What, for a malpractice suit?" Trystmar asked teasingly.

A faint, bitter smile touched Bashir's lips that had nothing to do with what he perceived as his error in Trystmar's case. "Something like," he said quietly.

"Of course," Trystmar responded, all levity gone as he realized Bashir's request had been serious. "Call on me anytime."

Bashir nodded, relief in his eyes. "I hope I'll never have to, but thank you in advance."

Trystmar looked at him, wondering what specific instance he was thinking of for which he might one day need a lawyer, but decided it wasn't his place to ask. "Wherever I am, I'll come when you need me," he promised quietly. "And whatever it is — even if you really are guilty — I'll give you the best defense possible."

THE END

A/N: Of course, what Bashir's thinking of is the possibility of his enhancements being discovered… Originally in my alternate history for that (which I may or may not ever get around to writing), I had Bashir defending himself, so I had to time this story afterward because why would he defend himself if he knew a lawyer who felt he owed Bashir a favor? But then I thought why not just write it that way…? (Keeping some of the parts I liked by having Bashir think he might have to defend himself if he couldn't find Trystmar in time.) Barbie

I proofread all my stories at least once before posting, but if you see any mistakes I might have missed, please let me know!

Please note that I have internet access only once a week, and may not have time to respond to all reviews/messages. If you have questions regarding my Deep Space Nine alternate history, check my profile first to see if they're answered there. Thanks for your understanding! Barbie