Bashir tripped ecstatically around the infirmary, preparing the operating table as he hummed a merry tune. This is what he'd become a doctor for -- he was helping the hopeless, making the universe a safer place, and possibly most of all, he was operating on a beautiful woman. Of course, that woman in his vision probably had a conscience and needed only a minor operation, but Bashir couldn't be choosy. This was a challenge that he would enjoy.
He'd relieved all the auxiliary medical staff the second Sisko had given him permission. He wanted to do this as soon as possible. He'd arranged for a site-to-site transport, Sisko explaining it away to the young ops ensign by saying that the prisoner had a minor strain of influenza and was too sick to be moved. God, he hoped Bashir didn't slip up.
Bashir tapped his comm badge, surveying the infirmary one last time. "Bashir to ops. Ready for prisoner beam-in."
"Ops to Bashir. Stand by."
Lena shimmered into matter just in front of him. She blinked surprisedly and looked around her in bewilderment.
Bashir stepped back a foot or two from her before he said, "Welcome to the infirmary."
Lena continued to look around, her expression blank. "You might have warned me."
"Sorry about that." Bashir chided himself inwardly. Dumb, dumb, dumb. Way to earn her trust, doctor. He grabbed her hand gently, hoping to rebuild some of that trust. "I hope I didn't frighten you too badly."
Lena smiled, her eyes focused on him, her hand limp in his. "It was actually kind of fun."
Bashir smiled back, dropping her hand. "Well, I'm glad." He paused uncomfortably. "It's about time we were getting started. Would you like me to explain the procedure beforehand?"
She shook her head. "No, thanks."
He pretended to arrange his instruments one last time. "Well, whenever you're ready, go ahead and take a seat over there." He indicated the monstrous, metallic looking bed in front of him. She slowly walked over to it, her fingers trailing along the edges, her gaze that of a convict walking along death row.
"Lena.." Her raw and frightened gaze startled him. "Do you really want to go through with this?"
Taking a deep breath to steel herself, Lena searched for her answer. "Yes," she answered, a ring of finality in her voice. "Yes, I do." She pulled herself into the bed, her gaze focused on the ceiling.
Bashir came over to her, anesthetic-charged hypospray in hand.
"I'm scared," she whispered.
Attempting to comfort her, he held her arm with his free hand and bent down to kiss her cheek. "I won't hurt you."
Smiling, she gently answered, "I know." Her gaze turned dark. "I'm just afraid of what I'll do to myself."
"You'll make it, Lena. I'll make sure you do."
"You really do care about me, don't you? If only you knew what a monster I am."
"You're no monster, Lena. You do have a medical… condition, but that by no means makes you a monster. And besides, I'm not friends with monsters," Bashir finished with an easy grin.
"Maybe you won't always think that. Maybe the minute I regrow a moral center, I
become a monster of my own guilt." Lena sat up suddenly. "Promise me you'll still care about me?"
Bashir nodded slowly. "Of course."
Relaxing a little bit, Lena smiled. "Then there's just one last thing."
Taking a deep breath and looking into his comically expectant eyes, Lena pulled
him into a kiss.
He pulled out of it a few seconds later, blinking bewilderedly. "What was that for?"
"When I was a little girl, I read Little Women. Do you remember Amy? She always said she wanted to be kissed before she died. And so I promised myself that kiss someone before I died. Just in case… in case anything goes wrong, I wanted to make sure…"
Bashir smiled. "Well, you needn't have worried, because nothing will go wrong. You're in perfectly good hands."
Lena laid back on the bed. "Then I'm ready."
*
The operation took about three hours. After he'd anesthetised the patient, Bashir proceeded to open her skull. He ciphened some of the cerebrospinal fluid that filled the cavity where her frontal lobe should have been, calming his violently churning stomach at the vile sight. He checked her vitals before beginning the cerebral regeneration. He watched in satisfaction as the beam of light streaming from his surgical implement caused the cells in her brain to reproduce, the gray matter slowly but surely filling in the hole.
What a wonder genetics had been for modern medicine, Bashir mused. From what he knew about cell specialization and what he'd found in Lena's brain cells, he'd been able to regrow a whole area of her body. Sure, they'd done it with limbs, they'd done it with skin, but never with a brain before. Then again, how often does someone need part of a brain regrown? He was really striding out into gray territory here.
Bashir chuckled to himself. Focus, focus. Her lobe was almost completely regrown. Checking her vitals once again to make sure that her body wasn't rejecting the new cells, he reciphened the cerebrospinal fluid into her neural cavity. He turned off the instrument in satisfaction, her lobe completely regrown. He pulled the pieces of her skull back together, using the osoregenerator to loosely stitch the pieces in place. He then stretched her bald skin over her skull. He'd had to remove her hair for the operation, and he felt oddly sorry about that fact. Using the dermal regenerator, he then sealed up her scalp. Her vitals were still fine, her heart beating normally. As a final touch, Bashir pulled out his ciliar regenerator, regrowing Lena's hair to the length he estimated it had originally been. Satisfied, Bashir had nothing to do but to wait.
*
He awoke to the sound of tears. He ran to her bedside, shushing her softly. "Lena, Lena, what's the matter? Where does it hurt?"
Lena looked up at him with red eyes, her expression twisted. She put her hand over her heart. "There."
"Ah, but Lena!" Bashir felt hope leap inside of him. "It means the operation worked!"
"Of course it did. Oh Julian, I should have died on that operating table."
"No, no, no, no, no!" Bashir took her hand in his. "Lena, this is the beginning of a new life for you! What you did before… that wasn't your fault. You couldn't help it. But now all I want you to do is move on from that and build a new life."
Sobbing bitterly, she replied, "I don't deserve a new life. I should have died, and maybe that would help to make up for all the lives I've taken."
He took her head in his hands. "Lena, you more than anyone deserve a new life. I know these feelings of guilt are overwhelming, but we can work through this together." He kissed her softly, wiping away her tears. "I still care about you, Lena. I don't ever want you to feel this way." He held her sobbing body close, trying to pour some of his spirit into her.
*
Bashir beeped the door of Lena's quarters. It had been many months since the operation. Lena still had a little scar across her forehead, and many more emotional scars, but through Bashir and Counselor Jordan's help, she was healing.
Lena answered him with a cheerful, "Come in!"
Bashir appeared with a bouquet of flowers. "Hello, my dear," he smiled gallantly as he planted a kiss on her cheek. She blushed slightly. Bashir marvelled at the change in her: she'd gone from hardened criminal to childlike and shy woman. "And how is my patient doing today?"
She looked at him seriously. "Better. Much better, thank you."
He sat on her bed as he handed her the flowers. "Anything hurt today?"
"Not now that you're here." She smiled. "This morning I did have a little breakdown, but now I feel much better." She sat next to him on the bed. "Thank you for giving me a new life. I don't know where it's leading, but I know what you risked to do this for me. It hurts, but it's worth it."
He answered her with a kiss. "You're welcome."