Julian Bashir breathlessly reached Commander Rzepka moments before she regained consciousness. Colonial Cenn knelt beside her after lowering her body to the floor. Bashir's hands shook and his nervousness showed.
"Give her some space, people!" he loudly called to the colonial and to Captain Dax, who also swooped in to help. He quickly leaned down to listen for breath sounds and felt for a pulse in her neck.
"I'm - I'm f... fine..."
Her voice appeared before her eyes did. Bashir placed his hand on her shoulder to prevent her from getting up. "Stay still. You're not fine, but we're going to get you some help," he said quickly before tapping his comm badge. "Bashir to Defiant, two to transport immediately to sick bay. Energize."
Once in Sick Bay, Dr. Aylum Deriat, a young Bajoran doctor, met them in the main ward. "What happened?" she quickly asked.
"Acute loss of consciousness. Thready tachycardia, shallow hyperventilation. Possible atrioventricular fibrillation, possible dehydration. Patient is on immunosuppressants and level three steroids," Bashir rattled off as Dr. Alyum grabbed a tricorder. "Let's get a Chem 20, CBC, and ABG to start. Get me an EKG and start a fluids line, too."
Krissten Richter approached to help and noticed Bashir's agitated state. After observing his behavior, she approached him and gently put her hand on his arm. "Julian? Why don't I wait outside with you? Dr. Aylum and Nurse Bandee can handle this."
Bashir hesitated. The commander was completely conscious now and he clearly saw her normal EKG displayed on the console. Her heart was fine. He nodded at his assistant and turned toward the door. Once they were in the waiting room, Bashir turned to the outside wall and hit it hard with the palm of his hand in frustration. Krissten jumped at his sudden outburst.
"Damn it, I knew she didn't look well this morning. I should have done something. What was I thinking?!"
"Julian..." Krissten said gently. "It's not your fault. I'm sure she's fine."
Bashir took a few deep breaths as he paced. Finally, he held up his hands. "You're absolutely right, Krissten. I'm sorry. It's just... this whole situation is bullshit. And I'm a little stressed. No one deserves to go through what we're going through. No one."
"You won't get any argument from me," Krissten replied, sitting down in a waiting chair. Bashir sat down across from her in the tiny waiting room. He leaned his elbows on his knees and tried to get his blood pressure under control with little luck.
"Do you have any idea how many people have died since yesterday?"
Krissten looked up at him with wide eyes, shaking her head slowly.
"Nearly a thousand. That we know of. We haven't even counted the casualties from the starships and transports," Bashir said sharply. "I can't even wrap my head around those numbers, and the prospect of more is on the horizon. It just infuriates me."
"Maybe we should talk about something else," Krissten suggested. Before another topic surfaced, though, Dr. Aylum appeared in the waiting room and Bashir jumped out of his seat.
"You can go in and see her. Her blood glucose level was very low and she's dehydrated. Everything else came back normal. We're treating the hypoglycemia and dehydration. She'll need some real sleep pretty soon, though."
"That's it?" Bashir asked skeptically. "Thank god, that's nothing. Thank you, doctor."
He hurried back into the treatment ward, already feeling his frustration building. He couldn't believe she wasn't taking care of herself, especially during such a stressful situation. She had been taking anti-rejection medications for a stem cell transplant she received over six years ago. Bashir knew her medication damaged her immune system and stress just made it worse. By not taking care of herself on top of that... she could end up in an anemic crisis or die from an infection.
"Kym," Bashir said when he saw her. He noticed some of the color had started to return to her face as she turned to him.
"Hi," she said with a sigh.
"How are you feeling?" Bashir's voice lacked its usual sympathy and he knew Rzepka sensed his disappointment with her. She sighed again.
"Better. Julian, I'm sorry -"
"You should be sorry. You scared the shit out of me and your colleagues. Kymberli, you know better. When was the last time you ate something?"
She sat up on the edge of the biobed and thought for a moment. The fact she actually had to think about it told Bashir it had been too long. "Two days ago."
"Two days?!" His voice grew a bit louder. "Kym, you know better. Did you not think about the damage you could do to the stem cells? To your immune system? To your heart? Geez, come on. Get your head together and take care of yourself. You just survived one of the biggest catastrophes since the Dominion War. I won't let you kill yourself by not eating."
Bashir saw the shock on the commander's face as he blew up at her. He regretted getting loud with her, but then decided maybe she needed to hear it.
"Julian, are you serious? It's not like I hadn't been otherwise occupied for the past two days. It's not like I've been able to hold down anything but water anyway. How...dare... you say those things." Her voice matched his in volume, but lacked the anger behind it. Apparently, their voices were loud enough to send Dr. Aylum back in to check on them.
Bashir decided he needed to remove himself from the situation to cool down. "I'll be in my office."
"Fine," Rzepka replied coldly, folding her arms across her chest.
Later that evening, Commander Rzepka relaxed on the floor of her dark quarters, contemplating the past days' events like it was all a dream. Her back hurt, and the only way she could find comfort was laying flat on the floor, pillow under the small of her back, legs propped up in the seat of a chair. She wondered what her mom was up to. She wanted to see her mom more than anything.
The door hissed open. He was back earlier than she expected.
"Can I turn on the lights?"
Rzepka sighed, not moving, even though she knew she was laying in his way. "I guess you can."
"Back hurt?"
His voice seemed calmer now, but she sensed his lingering agitation. Rzepka rose from the floor, throwing the pillow back on her bed.
"It's the damn bed."
Bashir sat in the chair her feet were just in, she sat in the opposite chair. She hated fighting. He hated fighting.
"Kimmie, I'm sorry about what happened in sickbay. I'm just… I was just worried… about you."
"You're always worried. It's not an excuse. The way you talked to me was disrespectful and I didn't like it," Rzepka snapped back. She was still angry about the way he treated her.
"Well, maybe if the circumstances were a bit different…" Bashir tried to maintain his composure but felt his temper flaring again.
"What circumstances? I know I'm not the first officer to wear herself thin. Hell, I'm not the first officer today to wear herself thin. Come on, how many times have you ever had to relieve me of duty because of exhaustion?" Her voice sounded sharp. Bashir shook his head slightly.
"Never."
"You're damn right, never. It's not like I'm a repeat offender. Once. This happened once. Following the worst day of our lives. I don't deserve the lecture or the guilt trip."
"Kym, do you understand that it might only take one case of exhaustion for you? Or once case of dehydration? You got lucky this time. Do you understand that your… situation… is not like everyone else?"
"My situation?" Rzepka stood from her chair to put her shoes back on. She needed to get out of there. "What do you mean, my situation? The transplant? The medications? Julian, I can't walk on eggshells every single day. I already live my life in caution that something will happen. I drop my guard one time and you freak out all over the place!"
"God, I'm so sick of this invincibility complex you have going on!" His voice grew louder as he hit his knee with one fist.
"Me?! Are you serious?!" Rzepka let out a laugh as she zipped up her other boot. "Oh no, Julian. It's not me who has an invincibility complex. It's you. You're the one denying for years that you have an anxiety problem. You've been ignorant about your own health far longer than I have. So don't read me the Riot Act unless you just want to hear yourself talk."
She turned toward the door quickly.
"Where are you going?" Bashir asked quickly.
"To work."
"No you're not. You're on leave."
"As of when?!"
"Three hours ago. Disaster Leave, effective immediately."
"Well," Rzepka said sharply, taking off her comm badge and dropping it on the table. "I'm sure I can find something to fix on this rickety old ship."
As the commander stormed off, Bashir reached up and grabbed his own comm badge, but instead of dropping it on the table along his girlfriend's, he slung it across the room. He thought about going after her, but decided against it. Having a fight in the corridor was probably less than professional.
He paced the room for a few minutes before he thought a sedative was in his best interest. The medkit on the shelf held two doses of the emergency sedative – one stronger than the other. He reached for the strongest hypospray, thinking just this one time wouldn't hurt much. He programmed the dosage on the tiny keypad on the hypo, but as he reached up for his own neck, he paused. A sudden wave of regret came over him as he quickly dropped the medication back in his medkit.
"What am I doing?" His quiet voice met no ears. He sat back down in his chair, thinking about what he almost just did. He nearly abused a controlled substance. He nearly went to the edge of his ethics.
My god… I have a problem.
He shook his head again and stood, turned toward the door for a walk around the ship to calm down. He found himself standing in the transporter room before too long, staring at the attendant.
"Send me over to Aventine."
