CHAPTER I
"Jake Sisko, we are not having this conversation." Kasidy Yates-Sisko whirled around to face her step-son, who was hovering behind her. Jake stood with his hands on his hips and a set expression on his face that reminded her of his father. "Now I am going and that's final." She elbowed her way past him and into her bedroom, where an open suitcase lay waiting on her bed. Jake followed.
"But Kass..." he persisted.
"No buts !"
Jake sighed and leaned against the doorframe. He watched in silence as Kasidy rummaged through a drawer, picking out clothes and then throwing them on the bed beside the suitcase. Her movements were stiff and angry. One shirt fell to the floor. Jake recognised it as one of his father's, and he felt a pang of sadness. He bent to pick it up, but Kasidy snatched it out of his grasp and shoved it back into the drawer, which she closed forcefully. She then turned and began systematically folding the clothes and placing them in her bag. Jake watched.
Abruptly she stopped folding and faced him. "I know you're only doing this because it's what Ben would do if he were here." Jake still said nothing, he stared darkly at the floor, not meeting her eyes. "But eventually he would realise that I'm doing the right thing and stop pestering me." She said this gently, with even a touch of wry humour creeping into her tone.
Jake shuffled his feet and shook his head before lifting his eyes from the floor. "So you're pregnant, and going off to play space cowboy is doing the right thing?" he asked bitterly.
The shadows in his eyes disturbed Kasidy. She could tell he was in pain, but it seemed so deep that she didn't think there was anything she could do to help. She let out a breath. "Jake , first of all , Dr. Bashir told me that it was okay for me to go back to work, and that in light of recent events, it's really the best thing for me. You know, kind of like therapy."
When Jake seemed unconvinced, she added, " He's a doctor, he knows about this sort of thing."
Jake rolled his eyes. "I'm a writer," he muttered, "I don't have a clue."
Kasidy was ignored his retort. "So you are still a writer, are you?" she countered, raising an eyebrow.
Jake stood up. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, defensiveness evident in his voice.
"It's just that I haven't seen you writing, that's all." She shrugged.
Jake looked away, uncomfortable. "I'm...waiting."
"Waiting?" Kasidy asked, puzzled. "Waiting for what?"
"I don't know." Jake knew it sounded lame, but he didn't know what else to say. He hadn't been able to write a single word since his dad had... left. It seemed that whatever it was that had driven him to write before was now paralysed by his pain.
Kasidy was shaking her head. "Jake, you can't put your life on hold like this. You gotta get on with it, take charge of things, otherwise, well..." She didn't know if she was getting through to him on not, he wasn't saying anything. Finally, he left.
Kasidy sighed, and then turned around to continue packing. After finishing with her clothes, she dumped some toiletries from the top of her dresser into the bag and fastened it closed. She went out into the living room, where Jake was staring out the viewport, at the stars. She walked over and stood beside him,
"Everything's going to be fine, Jake," Kasidy said reassuringly. "I'm only going for a few months, and I'll be back plenty of time before the baby gets here." She put a hand on his shoulder.
"I know."
"Walk me to the ship?"
"Sure"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Julian Bashir stood in the crowded turbolift, fidgeting with impatience. He was late. When the 'lift finally reached his deck, he hurtled through the doors before they had time to completely open, and proceeded to hurry through the corridor to the docking ring. Damn Kira, he thought as he ran, I'm a doctor, not a welcoming committee. Yet that was exactly what he was doing. Starfleet had assigned two replacement officers for the senior staff, and Kira had assigned himself and Dax to get them settled in. Even though Kira was the station's commander, she felt that it should be someone from Starfleet to welcome the new crewmembers aboard, and since Bashir and Dax were the two highest ranking Starfleet officers on the station... . Bashir skidded to a halt beside the airlock, where Ezri was waiting, her hands folded serenely behind her back. The doctor's already racing heart skipped a beat when she turned to look at him, her smile brilliant. He thought he would never tire of that smile.
"Sorry I'm late," he told her. "There was a scuffle on the Promenade, a few broken bones. Nothing serious though."
Ezri shrugged. "That's okay, the ship is just getting in now." She gazed at him fondly, her blue eyes alight. "So, are we still on for dinner tonight?"
Bashir looked into her eyes and took her hand, "Of course. I already told Vic we were coming, and it would break his heart if we didn't."
She playfully snatched her hand back. "So it's Vic you're concerned about. All this time I thought it was me." She pouted, and turned away.
Reclaiming her hand, Bashir suavely kissed Ezri's knuckles. "There has never been anyone else but you."
Dax held his eyes with hers for a moment and then said, "This is the part where I throw myself into your arms and we kiss, right?" She giggled.
"Of course not," Bashir answered, mock-seriously, releasing her hand and stepping back. "We're on duty." He straightened his uniform and came to attention. "And I am shocked and amazed that you would even think of such a thing, Lieutenant," he admonished, trying to keep a straight face.
Ezri rolled her eyes. "Of course Doctor. Whatever was I--"
Dax was interrupted by the airlock cycling open. About a dozen people in civilian clothes poured out, followed by two in Starfleet uniforms. One was a tall human male with blond hair, and the other was a Vulcan female who seemed to have an inordinate amount of luggage.
Basir stepped forward. "Commander Lane, and Lieutenant T'Pren?" he asked, his eidetic memory supplying the names instantly. "Welcome to Deep Space Nine. I'm Doctor Julian Bashir and this is Lieutenant Ezri Dax, Station's Counsellor." The Vulcan nodded politely to each of them, betraying no expression but an enigmatic lift of an eyebrow. Commander Lane was more forward.
"Good to meet you Doctor," he said, grasping Bashir's hand in what had to be the most painful handshake he'd ever experienced, genetically enhanced bones or not. Bashir smiled at the commander and tried not to wince too obviously. With one last squeeze, Lane released his hand and moved on to Ezri. "Dax, eh?" he said as they shook hands. "Do you know Jadzia Dax?"
Ezri smiled tightly, "Jadzia was Dax's last host," she said politely, though it still rankled her to be asked that question. Lane merely grunted in response, looking thoughtful.
There was a strained silence.
"Well," said Bashir, "now that you've seen the docking ring, why don't we show you to your quarters." He held out hand, "This way, please." T'Prenn and Lane started off in that direction, the Vulcan not the least bit hampered by the two large cases she carried in addition to the standard Starfleet valise. Ezri and Bashir exchanged glances as they followed the two officers. Not exactly the best first contact situation, Bashir thought.
They arrived at the Promenade without incident, Ezri providing a running commentary about the station and its peculiarities. T'Prenn appeared to listen, though she made no comment. Lane, on the other hand, did not even pretend to be interested in what Dax was saying. Instead he examined his surroundings critically, noting with disgust the gaudy kiosks and the somewhat shady characters who filtered in and out of Quark's.
"It may look a little strange at first, but you'll get used to it," said Ezri, referring to the decidedly non-Federation style of DS9.
"Actually I find the architecture quite fascinating." T'Prenn spoke for the first time. Her voice was quiet, with the faintest trace of an accent. She craned her neck to look at the swooping beams that formed the ceiling.
"Well, it's butt-ugly, if you ask me," Lane snorted, his lip curling derisively. T'Prenn's neck snapped around and she pinned him with her black gaze.
"I did not ask you," she hissed. Lane's eyes widened in shock, and he wilted under the force of her stare. For a moment, both Lane and T'Prenn were locked in soundless confrontation. . Ezri's mind raced as she tried to think of something to say to diffuse the situation, but before she do anything, Lane gave in.
"Sorry," he croaked, and looked away. The electric silence that had gripped the air dissipated. Ezri and Bashir looked at each other; they would talk about this later. For now, though, it would be nice just to get T'Prenn and Lane to their respective quarters before someone got hurt.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ten minutes later, Ezri leaned against the wall outside Lane's quarters, waiting for Julian to finish showing the commander around. She had already shown T'Prenn to her quarters which were, unfortunately, right next door. The Vulcan had politely listened to Ezri's this-is-the-replicator-here's-the-comm-system-if-you-need-anything spiel, and then, just as politely, kicked her out. Ezri had a bad feeling about this whole thing. There was something going on between Lane and T'Prenn that went deeper than their apparent mutal dislike.
Bashir came out of Lane's quarters, his smile fading as soon as her crossed the threshold. "Well, that was fun," he said, walking towards Ezri.
"Tell me about it," she answered as she fell into step beside him. "I hope they're not like this all the time."
"Heaven forbid," Bashir said, rolling his eyes. "Otherwise, it'll be a rough few weeks."
Ezri peered up at him, puzzled. "A few weeks?" she asked.
"By then we'll either be used to it or they'll have killed each other," he told her. His comment earned him a gentle swat on the arm.
"Not nice, Julian," she said. Inwardly, though, she wondered if Bashir was right.
"Jake Sisko, we are not having this conversation." Kasidy Yates-Sisko whirled around to face her step-son, who was hovering behind her. Jake stood with his hands on his hips and a set expression on his face that reminded her of his father. "Now I am going and that's final." She elbowed her way past him and into her bedroom, where an open suitcase lay waiting on her bed. Jake followed.
"But Kass..." he persisted.
"No buts !"
Jake sighed and leaned against the doorframe. He watched in silence as Kasidy rummaged through a drawer, picking out clothes and then throwing them on the bed beside the suitcase. Her movements were stiff and angry. One shirt fell to the floor. Jake recognised it as one of his father's, and he felt a pang of sadness. He bent to pick it up, but Kasidy snatched it out of his grasp and shoved it back into the drawer, which she closed forcefully. She then turned and began systematically folding the clothes and placing them in her bag. Jake watched.
Abruptly she stopped folding and faced him. "I know you're only doing this because it's what Ben would do if he were here." Jake still said nothing, he stared darkly at the floor, not meeting her eyes. "But eventually he would realise that I'm doing the right thing and stop pestering me." She said this gently, with even a touch of wry humour creeping into her tone.
Jake shuffled his feet and shook his head before lifting his eyes from the floor. "So you're pregnant, and going off to play space cowboy is doing the right thing?" he asked bitterly.
The shadows in his eyes disturbed Kasidy. She could tell he was in pain, but it seemed so deep that she didn't think there was anything she could do to help. She let out a breath. "Jake , first of all , Dr. Bashir told me that it was okay for me to go back to work, and that in light of recent events, it's really the best thing for me. You know, kind of like therapy."
When Jake seemed unconvinced, she added, " He's a doctor, he knows about this sort of thing."
Jake rolled his eyes. "I'm a writer," he muttered, "I don't have a clue."
Kasidy was ignored his retort. "So you are still a writer, are you?" she countered, raising an eyebrow.
Jake stood up. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, defensiveness evident in his voice.
"It's just that I haven't seen you writing, that's all." She shrugged.
Jake looked away, uncomfortable. "I'm...waiting."
"Waiting?" Kasidy asked, puzzled. "Waiting for what?"
"I don't know." Jake knew it sounded lame, but he didn't know what else to say. He hadn't been able to write a single word since his dad had... left. It seemed that whatever it was that had driven him to write before was now paralysed by his pain.
Kasidy was shaking her head. "Jake, you can't put your life on hold like this. You gotta get on with it, take charge of things, otherwise, well..." She didn't know if she was getting through to him on not, he wasn't saying anything. Finally, he left.
Kasidy sighed, and then turned around to continue packing. After finishing with her clothes, she dumped some toiletries from the top of her dresser into the bag and fastened it closed. She went out into the living room, where Jake was staring out the viewport, at the stars. She walked over and stood beside him,
"Everything's going to be fine, Jake," Kasidy said reassuringly. "I'm only going for a few months, and I'll be back plenty of time before the baby gets here." She put a hand on his shoulder.
"I know."
"Walk me to the ship?"
"Sure"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Julian Bashir stood in the crowded turbolift, fidgeting with impatience. He was late. When the 'lift finally reached his deck, he hurtled through the doors before they had time to completely open, and proceeded to hurry through the corridor to the docking ring. Damn Kira, he thought as he ran, I'm a doctor, not a welcoming committee. Yet that was exactly what he was doing. Starfleet had assigned two replacement officers for the senior staff, and Kira had assigned himself and Dax to get them settled in. Even though Kira was the station's commander, she felt that it should be someone from Starfleet to welcome the new crewmembers aboard, and since Bashir and Dax were the two highest ranking Starfleet officers on the station... . Bashir skidded to a halt beside the airlock, where Ezri was waiting, her hands folded serenely behind her back. The doctor's already racing heart skipped a beat when she turned to look at him, her smile brilliant. He thought he would never tire of that smile.
"Sorry I'm late," he told her. "There was a scuffle on the Promenade, a few broken bones. Nothing serious though."
Ezri shrugged. "That's okay, the ship is just getting in now." She gazed at him fondly, her blue eyes alight. "So, are we still on for dinner tonight?"
Bashir looked into her eyes and took her hand, "Of course. I already told Vic we were coming, and it would break his heart if we didn't."
She playfully snatched her hand back. "So it's Vic you're concerned about. All this time I thought it was me." She pouted, and turned away.
Reclaiming her hand, Bashir suavely kissed Ezri's knuckles. "There has never been anyone else but you."
Dax held his eyes with hers for a moment and then said, "This is the part where I throw myself into your arms and we kiss, right?" She giggled.
"Of course not," Bashir answered, mock-seriously, releasing her hand and stepping back. "We're on duty." He straightened his uniform and came to attention. "And I am shocked and amazed that you would even think of such a thing, Lieutenant," he admonished, trying to keep a straight face.
Ezri rolled her eyes. "Of course Doctor. Whatever was I--"
Dax was interrupted by the airlock cycling open. About a dozen people in civilian clothes poured out, followed by two in Starfleet uniforms. One was a tall human male with blond hair, and the other was a Vulcan female who seemed to have an inordinate amount of luggage.
Basir stepped forward. "Commander Lane, and Lieutenant T'Pren?" he asked, his eidetic memory supplying the names instantly. "Welcome to Deep Space Nine. I'm Doctor Julian Bashir and this is Lieutenant Ezri Dax, Station's Counsellor." The Vulcan nodded politely to each of them, betraying no expression but an enigmatic lift of an eyebrow. Commander Lane was more forward.
"Good to meet you Doctor," he said, grasping Bashir's hand in what had to be the most painful handshake he'd ever experienced, genetically enhanced bones or not. Bashir smiled at the commander and tried not to wince too obviously. With one last squeeze, Lane released his hand and moved on to Ezri. "Dax, eh?" he said as they shook hands. "Do you know Jadzia Dax?"
Ezri smiled tightly, "Jadzia was Dax's last host," she said politely, though it still rankled her to be asked that question. Lane merely grunted in response, looking thoughtful.
There was a strained silence.
"Well," said Bashir, "now that you've seen the docking ring, why don't we show you to your quarters." He held out hand, "This way, please." T'Prenn and Lane started off in that direction, the Vulcan not the least bit hampered by the two large cases she carried in addition to the standard Starfleet valise. Ezri and Bashir exchanged glances as they followed the two officers. Not exactly the best first contact situation, Bashir thought.
They arrived at the Promenade without incident, Ezri providing a running commentary about the station and its peculiarities. T'Prenn appeared to listen, though she made no comment. Lane, on the other hand, did not even pretend to be interested in what Dax was saying. Instead he examined his surroundings critically, noting with disgust the gaudy kiosks and the somewhat shady characters who filtered in and out of Quark's.
"It may look a little strange at first, but you'll get used to it," said Ezri, referring to the decidedly non-Federation style of DS9.
"Actually I find the architecture quite fascinating." T'Prenn spoke for the first time. Her voice was quiet, with the faintest trace of an accent. She craned her neck to look at the swooping beams that formed the ceiling.
"Well, it's butt-ugly, if you ask me," Lane snorted, his lip curling derisively. T'Prenn's neck snapped around and she pinned him with her black gaze.
"I did not ask you," she hissed. Lane's eyes widened in shock, and he wilted under the force of her stare. For a moment, both Lane and T'Prenn were locked in soundless confrontation. . Ezri's mind raced as she tried to think of something to say to diffuse the situation, but before she do anything, Lane gave in.
"Sorry," he croaked, and looked away. The electric silence that had gripped the air dissipated. Ezri and Bashir looked at each other; they would talk about this later. For now, though, it would be nice just to get T'Prenn and Lane to their respective quarters before someone got hurt.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ten minutes later, Ezri leaned against the wall outside Lane's quarters, waiting for Julian to finish showing the commander around. She had already shown T'Prenn to her quarters which were, unfortunately, right next door. The Vulcan had politely listened to Ezri's this-is-the-replicator-here's-the-comm-system-if-you-need-anything spiel, and then, just as politely, kicked her out. Ezri had a bad feeling about this whole thing. There was something going on between Lane and T'Prenn that went deeper than their apparent mutal dislike.
Bashir came out of Lane's quarters, his smile fading as soon as her crossed the threshold. "Well, that was fun," he said, walking towards Ezri.
"Tell me about it," she answered as she fell into step beside him. "I hope they're not like this all the time."
"Heaven forbid," Bashir said, rolling his eyes. "Otherwise, it'll be a rough few weeks."
Ezri peered up at him, puzzled. "A few weeks?" she asked.
"By then we'll either be used to it or they'll have killed each other," he told her. His comment earned him a gentle swat on the arm.
"Not nice, Julian," she said. Inwardly, though, she wondered if Bashir was right.