To Make a Point

A/N: This story is set immediately following S5E10 "Let He Who Is Without Sin." Some minor S5 spoilers may be present throughout.

POV: Jadzia

"Well, it wasn't the trip we planned, but I can't say it wasn't interesting," I said wryly, hoisting my luggage from the cargo bay of the runabout. "Although I must admit, the last few hours were certainly my favorite."

Worf gave a good-natured grunt of agreement. "The water on Risa is quite pleasant, even if it is artificial."

"I was referring to what was in the water," I said. I smirked at fresh memories of Worf skinny-dipping, staying chin-level in the water like an embarrassed teenage boy.

Worf didn't dignify me with a response, but I could tell from the slight flush of his cheeks that he was pleased. "Here," he said, lifting my pack from my shoulders. "Let me take that."

Always the gentleman. Even through seven lifetimes and six marriages, I'd never met a man as quietly gallant as the hulking Klingon beside me.

As my feet hit the solid "ground" of the station, the stress of the rising Dominion-Federation conflict seeped back into my bones. I wished for a moment that I could return to Risa and all its reyamilk-drenched euphoria, but I was a Starfleet officer with a duty to fulfill.

"I don't condone Fullerton's actions, but there may be some truth in what he was trying to get across," I said. "It may be time the Federation received a wake-up call. I don't think the Founders are going to readily give up their lust for power to come sun-bathe on Risian beaches with us anytime soon."

Worf cleared his throat. "His ideas were valuable, but his methods of demonstrating them were rash and extreme." He looked sidelong at me. "It should not have taken me so long to realize that."

"You came around," I said, not wanting to show my surprise at this near-apology. Worf usually reserved penitence for life-and-death situations. Maybe Risa had softened him up after all.

"Here we are. I can take my things from here," I said as I entered the code to unlock my quarters. "Would you like to come in for a raktajino? They always taste better with company."

He considered. "I suppose I could stay for a brief drink. But I must report to ops soon."

"Of course," I said.

I unloaded my belongings—a quick task; I always liked to travel light—while Worf ordered a double raktajino extra-sweet (my usual) and a prune juice (his usual) from my replicator.

We chatted lightly for several minutes before I noticed that he had yet to take a sip of his prune juice. "You usually down that stuff like a shot when we're at Quark's," I said. "Was the replicator pattern off?"

"No. I just realized that I am not thirsty."

"Oh. Even after that long flight?"

"Apparently not."

I peered at him. Were his eyelids drooping slightly, or was it my imagination? "Are you alright, Worf? You seem a little tired."

"I am fine."

"Because I'm sure the Captain would understand if you needed to get an ensign to cover your shift. He's already heard all about the hurricanes on Risa, so he's probably expecting you to need rest before you return to duty." I laughed sardonically. "Look at us, needing rest from our 'vacation'."

"No, I must return to duty. I should go now. Thank you for the juice and the company." He rose quickly from his chair, but he sat halfway back down again when he nearly lost his balance.

"Worf, what's wrong?" Beads of sweat had broken out across his face, pooling between his cranial ridges. "You don't look well. You really should rest before you go back to the bridge."

He shook his head slightly. "I will rest after my shift is complete." He stood up again, more slowly this time.

I followed him to the door, still concerned. "I wish you would speak up when you need something. I hate the thought of you struggling through your shift when you're so exhausted."

"I told you, I am fine," he said, irritation edging into his voice. It was less than convincing, though, because when he picked up his suitcase, he staggered unsteadily backward. I quickly grabbed the suitcase from him, just in time for him to crumple to the floor with a thud.

"Worf!" I yelped. No answer. I double-tapped my comm badge, kneeling beside him to monitor his breathing. "Jadzia to Dr. Bashir. Medical emergency in crew quarters!"

A/N: Thank you for reading my first fanfiction! I would appreciate your feedback (positive, negative, or in between!) if you have the time.