Chapter Eight: Tender Care

When Sisko awoke, the slanting late afternoon sunlight showed that it was nearly evening. He blinked, fearing Bashir's appearance had been only a dream, but was relieved to see the doctor's face come into focus bending over him. "Julian," he breathed voicelessly.

"Yes, sir; I'm here," Bashir responded, touching a comforting hand to Sisko's face. "How's your back?"

"Better…and worse. The pain is different… sharper."

"I suppose that makes sense," Bashir admitted. "I cleaned out as much infection as I could, so the pain from that should be diminishing. But some of the dead skin I had to remove was protecting the flesh beneath it to some degree; now that it's gone it may well hurt a bit more sharply until it starts to heal over."

Sisko grunted softly. "I didn't get much of that… but it's good to hear your voice."

Bashir grinned. "Likewise, though I've heard it sound a lot better…could you manage a drink?"

"Please," Sisko whispered, cautiously rolling half on his side to lie propped up on one arm. He licked his lips before sipping from the cup Bashir held for him, and the doctor noticed that they were dry and chapped to the point of cracking.

"It looks like your lips could use a touch of salve, too," he remarked as he set the cup aside.

"I suppose…to be honest I've gotten used to it."

Bashir only shook his head as he dipped a finger in the pot of salve and spread it generously over the commander's lips. "It's safe if you swallow some, but try not to lick it off," he warned lightly.

"Feels good…what is it?" Sisko asked, resisting the urge to run his tongue over his lips.

"It's actually something made by one of the local women," Bashir explained. "It's a mixture of aloe, oil, beeswax, and honey, and has more real medicinal value than a lot of home remedies, especially in this time. The aloe and oil are soothing and moisturizing, and honey has some antibacterial properties. The beeswax is just a base and thickener, but it certainly doesn't do any harm."

Sisko had seldom shown much interest in the explanation behind any treatment the doctor gave, and Bashir suspected he merely wanted to hear his voice, the only part of himself he hadn't disguised. "I doubt it's really sterile," he continued, "but then nothing here is… What you really need is a good session with the dermal regenerator, but I did the best I could with what I have."

"I'll be fine," Sisko assured him with a slight smile, "now that you're here."

"If it's at all in my power, you will be," Bashir promised firmly. "And to that end, let's have a closer look at how you're doing." He took an old-fashioned thermometer from his bag, shaking it out and slipping it under his tongue. He should have taken Sisko's temperature before applying the salve, he reflected vaguely, feeling Sisko's pulse as he waited for the instrument to register; it was going to be greasy and require more than a sterilizing wipe-down.

"One oh one," Bashir murmured, holding the thermometer up to the light to read the results. "I didn't get an exact reading before, but I'm guessing you were up to at least one oh three. The fact that it's coming down is a good sign that I got all the infection."

"I didn't have any doubts."

"Well, thanks for the confidence, but I did," Bashir said dryly. He set the thermometer aside and took a stethoscope from his bag. "Let's just have a listen, shall we?"

Sisko eyed the instrument curiously. "Is that a stethoscope? It's not at all how I pictured one…"

"You're thinking of later versions," Bashir explained. "A few decades earlier, and I'd be listening with an ear on your chest…although I might still have tried to sneak one through the portal. But no more talking for a minute; take a slow, deep breath."

After listening to Sisko's heart and lungs for several minutes, Bashir straightened. "Well, I think you'll live," he said lightly, the relief in his voice not entirely a jest. "Does anything besides your back hurt?"

"No…"

Something in Sisko's voice made Bashir sure that the answer, though honest, wasn't the complete truth. "Any discomfort at all, then?" he rephrased the question.

"I'm a little sick to my stomach," Sisko admitted. "But it's not bad; I'm sure it's nothing to worry about."

"Mm. When was the last time you ate?"

"They gave me some corn bread before the auction…my back hurt too much to eat much of it…before that I don't know."

"You need to eat something," Bashir said with quiet authority. "I'm sure you'll feel better with food in your stomach. I told my landlady to have some broth ready; I'll go get it and be right back." He jumped to his feet and headed for the door, but the commander's voice stopped him. "Julian…"

Bashir paused and turned back with his hand on the doorframe. "I'm real, sir," he assured him quietly; "I won't disappear if I'm out of your sight."

Sisko sighed. "Don't be long, then."

"I won't," Bashir promised, leaving the room and pulling the door shut behind him before dashing down the stairs.

When he returned five minutes later, he carried two biscuits wrapped in a napkin and a bowl half full of steaming broth.

Sisko sniffed the appetizing aromas appreciatively, but eyed the food a little dubiously as Bashir seated himself beside the bed. "Are you sure, Julian…?"

"Yes," Bashir assured him gently. "Laudanum on an empty stomach could be part of your problem, and extreme hunger can sometimes start to feel like nausea. We'll just take it slowly." He broke a piece off a biscuit as he spoke, dipping it in the broth and holding it to Sisko's mouth.

Sisko accepted it cautiously, chewing slowly and swallowing a little bit at a time, partly just to savor the flavors that were so much better than the dry, gritty cornbread he had been given for his last meal.

He waited a moment to be sure the morsel stayed down before accepting the next bite from Bashir's hand. The doctor had been right, he realized, as with each bite his appetite seemed to increase. Still Bashir kept him from eating too fast, wary of causing it to come back up.

The first biscuit was nearly gone when there was a hurried step on the stairs and then a pounding on the door.

Quickly setting the food aside, Bashir jumped to his feet and hurried to open the door. "Yes?" he demanded tensely.

"Dr Bashir, the son of one of the plantation owners hurt himself badly; they want you right away."

"Of course. But stay a moment, Mrs Jeffries." He opened his bag as he spoke, mixing another dose of laudanum with hurried fingers. "Finish giving my slave his supper. Don't force him to take more than he will; when he's finished make sure he drinks all of this — give it a stir first."

Mrs Jeffries nodded, settling into the chair Bashir had vacated.

Sisko looked for a moment as if he would speak; not as the sick, vulnerable man begging Julian not to leave him, but as the commander demanding to know what Dr Bashir was doing risking the timeline. But a sharp glance from Bashir reminded him of his place in this world, and he fell back and kept silent.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," Bashir promised. Snapping the bag closed, he tossed his coat over his shoulder and grabbed his hat and walking stick before dashing from the room.

Next chapter coming next week!

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