Kira glanced at the line snaking out of the replimat and into the promenade. She planned on grabbing a quick lunch before returning to her duties in Ops, but realized with a sinking feeling that she might have to settle for a hot cup of coffee and try again later. Slipping past those waiting for food, she placed her beverage order, and was soon standing with a steaming mug and no place to sit. Sighing, she resigned herself to standing when she noticed a splash of science blue in the farthest corner of the replimat. It was Bashir, without, she was pleased to notice, Garak. The doctor was absorbed in whatever he was reading. Though she did not normally lunch with the young man, she could not deny a sudden surge of curiosity. She had not seen the doctor since he had given his report to Sisko. Though he had been temporarily placed on medical leave he was back on duty again, and she usually ran into him at least once during the course of her daily routine.
Granted, she had been absorbed in studying the curious readings they had gotten from the runabout she and Bashir had piloted into the alternate dimension. With a sudden pang of chagrin she realized she had intentionally buried herself in her work to the exclusion of all else. It was an old habit from the days when the Cardassian occupation was most grim, a defense mechanism she still used, though not as frequently, working at a frantic pace, ignoring the need for sleep and food, and in doing so, working through the emotionally upsetting times of her life. She snuggled the hot cup in the palm of her hand. Sometime in the past few days she had bridged whatever emotional hurdle she had needed to pass, and was once again at ease with herself and her experience. Working like a dervish had its disadvantages. Right now she was starved, which reaffirmed her conviction that she had once again achieved her own personal internal balance. Unfortunately, the lines were no shorter.
As her mind wandered she watched the doctor thoughtfully. Bashir's head was bent over a padd. Stepping in his direction she saw him shift, then look up from his work. She had not meant to gape, but she was taken aback by his appearance. The dull look in his shadowed eyes, the drawn paleness, gave the appearance of haunted nights devoid of sheep, despite the fact that he had assured Sisko sleep was all he needed.
Kira was startled by her sudden rush of concern, grounded, she was certain, in guilt - that lingering feeling she had totally suppressed over the past week. She was well aware she had verbally and mentally danced around the subject of what had happened to Bashir, concentrating instead on analyzing the sensor readings from the runabout until she had analyzed them to death, not thinking of what might be going through the doctor's thoughts.
Attempting to cover her embarrassment, Kira approached Bashir, nodded a greeting, then spoke. "It's a bit crowded. Would you mind if I shared your table?"
"No," Bashir said, then quickly began to gather his things. "I really must be getting back to the infirmary."
"You don't need to leave on my account, Doctor." Kira slipped quickly into the seat opposite Bashir. "I didn't mean to chase you off." She caught his arm, and he sat back in his seat. "Look, Doctor, I know I haven't always been the most charming person to deal with, but we should be able to share hot drink in a public place. Just between friends." The doctor seemed to relax slightly, yet he was poised as if to flee.
"I'm not going to bite your head off, Doctor." Kira felt a flutter of annoyance before she batted the emotion back into place.
"It's sometimes difficult to be certain, Major." The young man's tone was uncharacteristically sarcastic.
There was a prolonged silence in which Kira began to doubt her rash decision to share her little free time with Bashir. Yet, she was bothered by his silence. Normally he could talk circles around any one of the staff. was always able to carry on a polite conversation, and more often than not overstepped his bounds.
"We've been analyzing the readings from the runabout's trip to the alternate universe," Kira began tentatively, broaching the only subject she could think of that provided a shared experience for them both.
"I was under the impression there was little information to be had from those readings." He had sat back in his chair, making an obvious effort to look relaxed.
"Essentially, that is true." Kira began to relax into the subject as well. She was not a science officer, and was definitely out of her league where many subjects were concerned, but she had poured over the information gained by their unexpected wrong turn in the wormhole. "Except for a slight mass discrepancy and the obvious phaser damage, we didn't find anything unusual."
"Mass discrepancy? From the phaser hits?"
"No." Kira shook her head. "The discrepancy showed up after we had docked. O'Brien and Dax thought at first it might be significant, but haven't been able to tie it into anything."
The mass of the runabout, as it currently sat in the launch bay, was a few kilograms less than the mass as it had been when it exited the wormhole, recorded by the station's record keeping scanners. The discrepancy existed even after Kira and Bashir's body mass had been eliminated from the total. Neither Dax nor O'Brien had been able to account for the loss, though Dax theorized that whatever force had thrust them into the alternate universe might also have depleted the already damaged runabout of some of its molecular structure. The problem had been bothersome because it was not explainable, but there appeared to be no danger posed to either the station or its inhabitants, and eventually Dax had concluded the mass loss would remain as much a mystery as their unexpected trip had been.
"Is there any cause for concern?" Bashir's tone was cautious.
"Apparently not."
"Oh."
Kira was once again puzzled by Bashir's withdrawn silence. "Doctor?" she asked tentatively. Bashir continued to stare at his padd. "Julian?" Kira asked again.
He looked up.
"Is there anything you wanted to talk about?" she questioned cautiously.
Bashir's mouth opened, brows knit together in thought, when his communicator bleeped. At first he made no move to respond, but when the call repeated he tapped the mechanism. "Bashir here."
"Infirmary, sir. This is Ensign Cordell. Will you be returning to the infirmary soon?"
"Is there an emergency?" Bashir's voice regained its professional crispness and he began to gather his things.
"Not really," replied Cordell, "but there's something I think you should look at."
"I'll be there shortly." Glancing at Kira, Bashir nodded. "Sorry, Major. I must go."
Kira nodded back, then stared at his back as he wove his way through the crowded replimat. Why did she get the impression that call had been poorly timed - that there had been something the doctor wanted to confide in her.
"I apologize if I've succeeded in scaring the young man off."
Kira looked over her shoulder. Odo stood behind her, hands clasped behind his back.
"I don't think you scared him off," she said, indicating the empty seat beside her.
Odo declined to sit, but continued to watch in the direction Bashir had gone. "Let us be realistic, Major," Odo continued, his voice coarse with sarcasm. "He has made a sincere effort to avoid all contact with me since you returned."
"I don't even think he knew you were here, Odo." Kira found his tone disturbing. Even for her saturnine friend, the statement sounded harsh. "Give him time. He'll get over his discomfort."
Odo nodded his head affirmatively. The slightest smile touched the corners of his mouth. "Perhaps." The shapeshifter moved away, leaving Kira dumbfounded. She was not certain, but it appeared as though Odo was offended by Bashir's attitude. He had not shown any signs of offense prior to now. She sighed. Not only was she no science officer, she was no psychologist, and could not begin to analyze alien psyches - either of them.
Relinquishing her table, she started back towards Ops, arriving just as O'Brien received a call from the infirmary.
"Tampered with in what way?" O'Brien was asking.
"Entries have been made on records only I and my medical records officer have authority to access," said Bashir's voice.
"Perhaps we should notify security?"
"First, I want to make sure there are no systems failures that could be responsible, Chief. When you have time, I would appreciate your opinion."
*****
"Is this the only incident?" O'Brien asked, his fingers running over the computer panels as he spoke.
"The only one we've found." Bashir kept his voice level, not wanting to acknowledge the gnawing dread the words that had scrolled across his monitor engendered. There was a logical explanation, he was certain of that.
"When was the last time you accessed these files?"
"About four days ago. I was imputing information, updating records. Nothing out of the ordinary."
O'Brien frowned. "Doctor, as near as can tell, this information was input from your own terminal at the time the rest of the records were. There doesn't appear to have been any tampering, no codes entered other than your own access code and retinal scan. According to the information available there has been no security breach. Did you leave the terminal at any time?"
****
"No," Bashir said, "but I did doze off for a few minutes."
"It might have happened while you were sleeping. Does this entry mean anything to you? A joke, perhaps?"
Bashir took a deep breath, then looked O'Brien squarely in the eye. "A joke, perhaps."
"I can't do anything else from this terminal. I'll run a diagnostic from the main computer in Ops and let you know what I find. In the meantime, keep me informed if anything else shows up."
"Yes, I suppose that would be the only proper course."
O'Brien nodded, then left. Bashir continued to stare at the words, repeating line after line in the medical records. He had not input them. He was certain of that. No one else would know of their significance. He had not reported this to Sisko, nor placed it in any of his official reports or personal logs, yet the words mocked him in endless columns. "How are your hands, Doctor?" Bashir reached to delete the entry, but before he could. one last statement slipped past on his screen. "It's no joke."
*****
A golden shimmer from the alter candles softened the harsh contours of the room, pushing back the hard-edged design of the Cardassian furniture. Kira sat cross-legged before her personal shrine, eyes closed, breathing controlled and slow. Willing herself to do the ritual exercises prior to meditation, she was acutely aware of everything around her, the flickering candles, the cool brush of recirculated air, the soft gown that had replaced her customary uniform. She ran her fingers over the folds. It was still difficult to indulge the senses, to enjoy what liberation had brought. And such thoughts, she chided, would never achieve the proper meditative state.
Taking another cleansing breath, she again began the process of preparing her thoughts for her evening prayer. Relaxing, breathing, slowing her heartbeat, these rituals she had repeated in surroundings far more barren and uncomfortable with greater success. Settling into the familiar routine she emptied her mind, and was promptly interrupted by her door chime.
"Damn," she muttered. It was well past the hour for polite social calls. She might as well forget her evening prayer. Walking toward the door, she activated the external audio. "Yes," she asked, "who is it?" She did not attempt to hide the annoyance she felt at the late night intrusion.
"Major, I--"
Kira opened the door. Bashir stood outside her quarters, hands locked behind his back. "I'm sorry to disturb you. I can come back at another time."
"No," Kira said quickly. She had the feeling whatever the doctor had to say needed to be said now.
"I can wait, if you wish to change." Bashir seemed distinctly uncomfortable with her current state of dress, and part of her found that amusing, yet she knew he was deadly serious.
"That's all right" She stepped aside, motioning him to enter. He hesitated.
"We could talk just as easily in the replimat, if you prefer."
"That's all right," Kira repeated. "Just come in."
Bashir stepped inside the door and it swished shut behind him.
"Computer, lights at three-quarter intensity," Kira requested. As the lights brightened, eliminating the sultry glow of candlelight, Kira motioned to a chair.
Bashir sat on the edge of a narrow couch, elbows resting on his knees. He rubbed his eyes tiredly. If Kira had found his appearance startling when she had seen him in the replimat early in the day, she found it more so now.
"Can I get you something to drink?" she asked.
"Huh? No. No, thank you. Major, I need to talk with you. About what happened, on the other side."
"I've read your report to Commander Sisko."
"There are some things I haven't reported to the commander yet I didn't think they were necessary. but now I'm not so sure. I need to talk with someone."
Kira sat patiently waiting for the doctor to proceed. Bashir seemed to be searching for the right words. Suddenly he jumped to his feet, walked the length of the room, then sat down again.
"Major," he said, "This may sound impossible, but he's not dead."
"Dead. Who?"
"Odo," Bashir said impatiently. "The other Odo. The one from the other side."
"What makes you think that?"
"Because he's here."
"Here? I find that hard to believe."
"Why?" Bashir closed his eyes as though regaining his composure before continuing. "Because I'm the one telling you. I'm also the one who killed him. Remember? No one had trouble believing that, why should you find it difficult to believe he's still alive and in our world?"
"Now, wait a minute, Doctor," Kira snapped, "I'm not the enemy here. I just want to make sense of what you're saying. To make sure it makes sense to you."
"It does make sense."
Kira sat, hands clenched in her lap, the candles, her robe, her meditation forgotten. She scrutinized the man sitting before her. There was no doubting his sincere belief in what he was saying, but he had been under a great deal of stress. "Look, Doctor Bashir, I'm not qualified to analyze your mental state, but it's obvious, even to me, that you haven't been sleeping or probably eating right. You seem to be under a certain amount of stress--"
"A certain amount of stress?" Bashir interrupted, laughing bitterly.
Kira felt the anger beginning to flair. "You know," she said, stabbing her finger at Bashir, "You're not the only one to have ever done time in a Cardassian work camp, Doctor. Some people spent decades slaving in those camps."
Bashir leaned back against the deep cushions of the couch. His eyes closed, and for a brief moment, Kira thought he had fallen asleep. "I'm sorry, Major," he said so quietly Kira had to lean forward to hear what he said. "I didn't come here to argue and I don't mean to presume my experience was unique. But since we've returned, everyone had gone to great pains to assure me our counterparts could not possibly duplicate our journey, and yet, I can't help feel they have. That they are watching. They are here. He is here."
"What proof have you?"
Bashir opened his eyes and stared blearily at her. He leaned forward again. "Instinct," he stated simply. "More than anything else." He quickly told her of the sensation of being observed, of the incident on the promenade shortly after their return, when he was certain he had seen Odo on the overhead catwalk, of the laughter.
"How often has this happened?" Kira asked, undeniably curious, since she had experienced no such illusions.
"He's everywhere. In the infirmary. In the corridors. I hear the laughter."
"Doctor, you're exhausted. Could it just be your senses playing tricks on you?"
"Yes. That's all I thought it was. That's what I kept telling myself. It was just my imagination and it would go away with time. But it hasn't, Major. It's gotten worse."
"So bad you can't sleep or eat," Kira said, half to herself. She'd seen this before, in her countrymen, her fellow resistance members, particularly those who had survived a close brush with the enemy. Bashir did not answer her half-formed question, but she didn't need an answer. The evidence was before her eyes. "Have you talked to any of your own staff people about this?"
Bashir shook his head, then laughed softly. "One of the disadvantages of being the only doctor aboard."
"Commander Sisko?"
"And what would I tell him, Major? That I can't sleep?"
"What else is there to tell?"
"Until today, nothing."
Kira waited.
"Today, on the terminal in my office, in records no one but my medical records technician and myself have access to, was a line entry, a question, repeated over and over, hundreds of times." Bashir looked at his palms, rubbed one hand into the other, then looked Kira directly in the eye. "He, the Supervisor, took great delight in the fact that I was a doctor." Bashir held his hands up. "Perhaps you don't realize, Major, how important these are to a doctor, a surgeon. How much they can tell me about a patient that no instrument ever would. They are my life. If any permanent damage happened to my hands, I wouldn't be able to do the job I've spent my life training for, and that's caring for people. He knew that, and went to great pains to see that as much damage was done as possible, without ever lifting a finger himself. 'How are your hands, Doctor?' he would ask. I didn't tell anyone about it I took care of the injuries myself. And yet, Odo, our Odo knew. How did he know? Why did he use the same question? And why is it in my computer terminal?"
Kira listened "You can't believe our Odo had been replaced by--"
"That's just it, Major, I don't know. Was he? Did the other Odo manage somehow to cross over with us? That mass discrepancy Dax and O'Brien couldn't explain - what if that discrepancy walked off the runabout?"
"No." Kira was beginning to doubt her own conviction that Bashir had been imagining everything. It was her turn to pace restlessly around the room as she considered his line of reasoning. "There wasn't enough mass to account for a being of Odo's size."
"Are you certain?" Bashir's eyes glittered with new determination. "How much of the other Odo was left? I saw him Kira, dissipating in a thousand directions. What if he had lost mass. We don't know how much of Odo needs to be there for him to continue as a life form. We just don't know enough about what Odo is."
Kira had stopped before her altar, the candles sputtered in pools of melted wax, shrunken to nothing, but still flickering bravely. Perhaps there was some truth to what the doctor was saying. She turned to face him. "Why tell me all this? Why not contact security?"
"For obvious reasons."
"You don't trust Odo. You've been avoiding him since we returned. But he is the same Odo. He doesn't hold anything against you. If you believe there is an alien life form on this station that is in any way hostile to personnel on board, then we have to report it."
"Can you, without a doubt, trust him, Major?"
"Yes," Kira stated unequivocally. She chose to ignore the tickle of distrust that nudged her subconscious, the half-remembered tone in Odo' s voice in the replimat this afternoon, and how it had disturbed her.
"Well, Major," Bashir said, a new calm in his voice. "I've seen the enemy wear that face. I can't trust. Not yet. Not until I know for certain."
"Then I'll talk to Odo. I know him. I'll know if there is anything amiss."
Bashir rested his face in his hands, obviously exhausted. "And if I am just imagining it all?"
"Then it won't go any farther than this. In the meantime, Doctor, I suggest you do whatever you advise your patients to do when they are having trouble sleeping. Make sure the intruder alert devices for your quarters are activated. In the morning, if you still feel there is something that needs to be reported, we'll take it to Commander Sisko. He'll listen, Julian."
Bashir looked at her through sleep bleary eyes. "Thank you for listening. I sincerely hope you are right."
The Terran doctor rose, and Kira escorted him to the door. As it closed behind him, she turned her back and leaned against its cold solidity, all thoughts of her evening meditation forgotten. Bashir's accusation disturbed her more than she would admit to the young Human. Despite any fault she might have found with the doctor in times past, she understood the urgency with which he had spoken, the desperation which had brought him to her as a confidant. She did not believe their Odo was suspect, but she could not be certain his double was not present on this station, nor what that double might be capable of.
*****