Julian Bashir walked away from Kira's quarters feeling better than he had since before their unexpected journey through the wormhole. It had taken all of his nerve to approach the Bajoran major with his fears and suspicions, knowing how she had scoffed at him in the past. He was glad she was open to what he had to say, because he was beginning to have serious doubts about his own mental state. He had always thought of himself as adaptable and resilient, had scored highly on a psyche profiles and tests, and was shaken because Odo's mirror image had become so thoroughly intimidating.
Granted, the supervisor had been very good at what he did, and had worked side-by side with the Cardassians, undisputed masters of subjugation. Bashir could have dealt with the nightmare and the physical abuse, if it had not been for the shadow laughter. The subtle, invasive threat, the subliminal fear dogging his every step since they shot back through the wormhole, had been far more insidious because he had no way of knowing whether it was real or imagined. Until today. He was convinced now, even if Kira wasn't, that the mirror Odo had somehow survived the disrupter blast that had ripped him apart, and managed to hitch a ride back here with them. That conviction buoyed his spirits as nothing else had been able to in the past seven days.
Of course, convincing himself and Kira that Odo was indeed present was far easier than actually locating the duplicate shapeshifter. This supervisor knew the station as well as their own Odo, could mimic any shape or creature aboard her, and need never be found if he did not want to be found. Which meant, Bashir reasoned, in order to flush out the duplicate interloper, they would need damned good bait. Kira had advised him to return to his quarters and wait, while she talked to the constable, but instead he found himself headed for the infirmary. He had felt the supervisor's presence most strongly there. This time, he intended on confronting the cause instead of trying to outrun it.
"Doctor Bashir." the technician on duty jumped to his feet as Bashir entered the infirmary. "Is there an emergency, sir?"
"No," Bashir assured the young man, "Quite the contrary. I'd left some journals here that I need to read." Bashir thought quickly to cover his presence in the infirmary at this hour of the night. "I'll be here for a while if you would like to take a break."
"It's really not time for my break, sir.
"That's no problem. I'll wait until you return."
"Thank you."
Bashir waited until he heard the technician's footsteps fade into the darkness. He wasn't exactly sure how he would lure the shapeshifter out. The times he had heard the phantom laughter, he had been tired, almost asleep, so that the sound had been ethereal and disorienting. The shapeshifter seemed to sense when he was most vulnerable.
Bashir settled himself in his office before the computer terminal where he had first heard the ghost. Leaning back, he forced himself to relax, willing his limbs to go limp, his eyes to close. He had no idea what he would do should the shapeshifter choose to show himself. As he sat in the quiet darkness, memories came back unbidden, his first shocking introduction to human status on the Intendant's Terok Nor, the endless hours and endless toil. Bashir shuddered despite his attempts to relax.
"He will not come to you."
Bashir felt a chill creep over his flesh. Slowly he opened his eyes.
"Provided he even exists."
"How can you be so certain?" Bashir asked in turn.
"Because I would not."
"And for that reason, you assume your double would not show himself. How am I to believe you? Major Kira has assured me you and he are not similar in any way."
"We are not." Odo stepped from the shadows and Bashir rose to his feet so the Constable was not looking down on him. "But I have dealt with enough criminal minds to have some concept of how they think. Even the most innocent would recognize your current maneuver as the bait in a trap. The only thing missing, Doctor, is the trap itself."
"Can I be certain, at this instant, the bait has not been successful?"
"Yes, because I've been with Odo since I roused him from his rest." Kira joined the Security Chief in Bashir's office. "He has not left my side." Kira's voice softened. "This is our Odo," she stated simply. "His only concern is your safety and the safety of the station."
Bashir listened and wanted to believe, but he had to make a conscious effort to ignore the twist in his stomach. He looked from Kira to Odo. "I know, Major. I keep telling myself this is not the same shapeshifter." Bashir's words came suddenly, in a bitter torrent he had struggled to control since they had returned to their own reality. "I've never disliked you, Odo, nor had any reason to distrust or fear you. I have always respected you and thought we worked well together professionally. I've told myself over and over you were not the one who threatened to crush my hands if I disobeyed any of your precious rules of obedience, that you were not the one who struck me when I did not, that you were not the one who drove the Terran workers, myself included until we, I, was so exhausted that I couldn't move or think. And I've told myself over and over that you were not the one I killed." There was a long pause as the doctor tried to calm the anger he had so carefully leashed. "But every time I close my eyes, the face that fills the nightmares is still yours."
Odo stood, listening dispassionately, waiting as an old mariner out waits a fierce northwester, until the last gusting blast of harsh words subsided. And Bashir was not surprised by calmness. This was Odo. Taking a deep breath, Bashir expected an equally stinging retort, from Kira if not Odo, but none came.
"I'm sorry," Bashir said at last. "That was not necessary."
Odo's head tilted to one side. "On the contrary, I've found most humanoids have a need to vent suppressed anger or resentment before they can continue with a relationship."
"Burying the hatchet," Bashir said to himself Odo did not seem to notice this comment.
"Major Kira warned me of your ill feelings," the Constable continued. "That will not effect how I do my job."
Bashir was suddenly exhausted. The rush of anger had left him spent. He was rapidly losing any desire to argue.
Kira look a step closer, "Both Odo and I agree, you should not expose yourself to this entity until we are certain we can protect you."
"If you will recall, Major, I have been exposed for the past seven days. He hasn't harmed me, at least not physically."
"Not yet," Odo observed. "Until now, he has been in control by virtue of the fact he has remained hidden and unacknowledged. Now that you have made the assumption he is real, and a threat, his tactics may change."
"So what do you suggest we do?"
"I suggest you continue your normal routine," Odo answered. "I will install security surveillance in the infirmary and in your quarters. Allow me to investigate, to determine if this wraith really exists, and if he is still on the station and a danger."
Bashir glanced from Kira to Odo, still unwilling to relinquish control of the situation to the shapeshifter. Finally, he nodded. "All right. We'll try it your way."
*****
As the days passed, Bashir began to doubt his own belief that a second shapeshifter was on board the space station. There were no further incidents, real or imagined, to substantiate his theory and no physical evidence was gained by repeated sensor sweeps of the station. Silently, in his heart, he had hoped to find some evidence the mirror Odo was alive. It caused him some distress knowing he had so blithely ended a life, but he wanted to put the entire incident behind him, and was almost willing to admit he had created all those tormented images out of his imagination. As his life returned to normal, or as close to normal as this posting would permit, he began to believe he had been hallucinating as a result of physical and mental stress and lack of sleep.
Once again he found he could look at his fellow crew members without wondering how their counterparts in the other universe had fared. He began to close the gap he had willingly placed between himself and those he considered friends. Garak, O'Brien and eventually, Odo. As he and Kira agreed, no mention of 'the other' was officially made in any log entry, nor reported to Sisko. One does not report daydreams, he reasoned, and as he once again began to sleep, free of nightmares, he stopped checking every shadow and jumping at every unexplained sound.
Bashir leaned back in his chair. He had just finished updating his logs and glanced at the chronometer overhead. He had worked well past midnight, not to avoid sleep, but because it felt good. Rubbing his eyes, he yawned and stretched, then reached for the cold cup of tea that sat next to the terminal just as his communicator bleeped. "Bashir here," he said, tapping the golden emblem lightly.
"Doctor," said Odo's voice, "I'm sorry to disturb you, but one of my security personnel has sustained an injury. Can you report to the access corridor outside docking control cabin six?"
"What is the nature of the injury?" Bashir was gathering his medkit even as he spoke.
"I don't believe it is serious, but thought he should be examined before he is moved."
"I'll be there in a few minutes. Bashir out."
Julian ran the location through his mind. Docking control cabin six was at the top of docking pylon six. Walking quickly down the quiet promenade, he stopped at the turbolift and gave the verbal command to ascend. Middle of the night emergencies always seemed more serious than they usually were, perhaps because any incident seemed magnified by the silence that settled over most of the station and because unexpected things happened when crewmen were tired.
Julian stepped off the turbolift, and glanced from side to side. At first he saw no one, then the glint of light on metal drew his attention to the inward curve of the bulkhead and a figure sprawled just around the bend in the corridor.
"Odo?" he called tentatively, but received no answer. He walked quickly, med scanner in hand and ready, but he knew with a dull certainty, before he reached the injured man, he was too late. The man's leg was twisted from the knee at an impossible angle, his arms tossed carelessly, his lifeless eyes staring into the night.
"Damn," Julian cursed, scanner running. This body had not fallen. It had been tossed like a rag doll, and had landed in a heap on the floor. It had taken only seconds from the time Bashir stepped off the turbolift until now, and as he continued to scan the immediate area with his tricorder, he reached for his comm badge.
Whatever message he thought he would send, was never sent. A swift blow to the back of his skull, snatched consciousness from him before his hand could activate the communications device. He crumpled to the deck, atop his intended patient, and never heard the cackling laughter.
*****