8
The holding area of Eddington's security office was packed. Bashir was sitting down, feeling tired again now, although around him, everyone else was standing. Sisko was there, and seemed displeased as all hell, his dark face and eyes stormy and forbidding. The Gri'Thethi woman was there, too, at Eddington's request, and Admiral Dukat had been called down, and was giving Sloan the cool glare of a Cardassian.
"You said his name is Sloan, Doctor?" Eddington asked.
Bashir nodded.
"Luther Sloan," the Gri'Thethi, whose name was An'Hanai supplied. Sloan shot her a look and she shook her head. "That won't work," she informed him. "I am far better trained than you are."
Bashir supposed that Sloan had been trying to hide information from her telepathic searching. He knew it wouldn't work; Gri'Thethi were one of the most adept telepathic species known to the Federation.
"How do you know him, Doctor?" Sisko asked.
"I'm not sure I do," Bashir replied, to which Sisko arched an eyebrow. "He looks familiar, and I know his name, but I don't know where I know him from."
"That's unusual for you, Julian," Sisko said.
"I know," Bashir replied.
"Who do you work for?" Dukat demanded of the prisoner.
"Internal Affairs," Sloan replied. Bashir's eyes narrowed and An'Hanai said:
"He's lying."
Dukat looked back at her expectantly.
"Something called Section Thirty-One."
The name sounded vaguely familiar to Bashir, and must have been to Dukat, because the spun back to Sloan, anger radiating off of him.
"You will explain to me how your organization survived, and you will tell me how many of you there are. If I have to get the answer from An'Hanai, things will go worse for you than they already are, I promise you that."
"What's Section Thirty-One?" Sisko asked.
"They used to be a rogue Federation intelligence organization. They were disbanded when they Alliance and the Federation merged. Or so we thought," Dukat said, his voice low.
"According to Mister Sloan, they are operating without the knowledge of the Federation Council or Starfleet Command," An'Hanai said.
Dukat's cold eyes raked over Sloan's face.
"The fact that she had to tell me that does not bode well for you, Mister Sloan." He turned away from the stunned-looking prisoner to face Sisko. "Captain, I suggest we get in touch with Starfleet Command and the Federation Council immediately. Mister Eddington, I want transportation of the highest security to Earth arranged for our guest. I think there may be a few people in Starfleet who have some questions for him. And perhaps he would like to give us the names of his colleagues. I'd hate to have to resort to further telepathic intervention."
"Of course, sir," Eddington replied. "Doctor Bashir, I need to ask you some questions."
"Later," Sisko interjected. "Right now, Doctor Bashir is going to the infirmary. Don't argue with me, Julian, you're still on medical leave, and you look like you're going to collapse. Come on."
With an inward sigh, Bashir pushed himself to his feet and followed his CO and Dukat from the holding area. He glanced back once and saw Sloan watching him, with a cold, calculating stare.
You won't get me this time, Bashir thought.
Sisko left him at the infirmary, leaving Bashir to feel as if he were a package being shunted around. He took a seat on a exam bed and peeled off his uniform jacket. He had been chilly that morning, and had put on a long sleeved green uniform shirt. He pushed those sleeves up above his elbows now and waited until Tarses came in.
"If you don't stop overexerting yourself, Julian, I'll have to make you stay here again," the other doctor warned.
"Believe me, I had no intention of getting involved with this Sloan."
Tarses arched an eyebrow as only someone with Vulcan heritage could do.
"Need I remind you of your confrontation with the Klingon yesterday?"
"No," Bashir sighed as Tarses examined him. The half-Vulcan frowned slightly, then shook his head.
"You're still running a mild fever. I am keeping you here until this afternoon. You need to rest."
Bashir sighed, but nodded.
"I will get you something to eat and drink," Tarses said. "In the meantime, I want you to lie down and stay lying down."
Obediently, Bashir swung his legs onto the bed and lay down, crossing his hands on his stomach. Tarses gave a satisfied nod and left the room, dimming the lights on his way out. Bashir lay still for a moment, thinking of his daughter, wondering if Dax had gone off duty to take care of her. Was it always like this for Starfleet families? Or any family stationed on a station or starship? Keiko O'Brien wasn't in Starfleet, after all, but her botany work in this sector and the Gamma Quadrant kept both her and Miles busy juggling schedules and children. Bashir wondered how Sisko had managed it after his wife had died.
He was filled with a strong desire to go home, to see his wife and daughter, but he knew better than to contravene Tarses' orders. Instead, he shut his eyes and let himself drift off to sleep.
When he awoke, he was still alone in the infirmary, and there was no sign of Tarses or any food. Bashir frowned and eased himself from the bed, straining his sensitive hearing. He could only hear the sound of his own breathing and the machines in the infirmary.
"Simon?" he called, heading for the door, looking out into the rest of the infirmary. It appeared empty. Bashir tapped his combadge. "Computer, locate Doctor Simon Tarses." Only silence answered his request. "Computer, respond." He tapped the badge again. "Bashir to Tarses. Bashir to Dax. Come in, Jadzia. Bashir to anyone who can hear me, please respond."
Again, only silence.
Bashir stepped fully into the corridor, turning toward the main entrance, and jerked when the doors hissed open suddenly. A man strode in, then glanced up before stopping dead in his tracks. Julian Bashir and Julian Bashir stared at each other. Dax's husband recovered first, suddenly noticing the other Bashir's uniform was different than his own. The jacket was black with grey shoulders, and he wore a teal coloured shirt underneath, with his lieutenant's rank pips attacked to the mock-turtleneck.
"Julian," he said.
"Yes," the other man said in his own voice. "You, too, I suppose."
"Yes."
They stared at each other for a moment longer, then Bashir shook his head.
"What in the hell–" he began.
The scene vanished and Bashir blinked himself awake, startled. He sat up part way, glancing around the infirmary room, and saw a tray of food waiting for him. Relieved, he began to sit up the rest of the way when a strong hand pressed him back down on the bed. A face came into his vision suddenly, a rugged, angry looking face.
"You won't get away so quickly, Doctor," Sloan whispered.
"What the hell?" Bashir cursed, sitting up quickly, startling the other man into backing off slightly. The doctor smacked his combadge. "Bashir to security! Sloan's escaped!"
"They can't hear you," Sloan assured him. "I took the liberty of deactivating your combadge. And don't bother shouting for Doctor Tarses or any of your nurses. They're all unavailable at the moment."
"How dare you?" Bashir hissed, jumping from the bed and grabbing Sloan. Sloan wrestled with him, until they were deadlocked, gripping each other so hard Bashir could feel bruises forming.
"Couldn't let you get away from me that easily, Doctor."
"Get away from you!" Bashir snapped. "I don't even know you!"
"You knew my name. You have so memory of me."
"I have a great memory," Bashir growled. "And I know I've never met you before."
"No," Sloan said. "The man who lets his wife call him Jules Bashir has never met me, or any other Luther Sloan before. You and I, Doctor, we're old friends."
"I am Jules Bashir!" Bashir snapped.
Sloan grinned a cold, mirthless grin.
"Deep down, you know that isn't true. You don't belong here, Julian, any more than I do."
Bashir snapped, tightening his grip even more on Sloan, managing to grab the other man by the collar and yank Sloan toward him.
"This. Is. My. Home." he said, spitting out each word furiously. "I don't know what the hell you're doing, but it won't work."
Sloan laughed darkly.
"Deep Space Nine is your home, Doctor. Not Terok Nor. Don't you understand? You're the wrong Julian in the wrong universe."
Bashir felt himself go cold. All the strange things he had felt or thought during the past few days rushed back to him, the Romulans, Worf, suspicions about Dukat, familiarity with Legate Garak. Sloan must have seen the shock on his face, because he nodded.
"How many healthy adults get chicken pox, Doctor?" he asked. "In our universe, most of them would. We don't have it there. The Julian Bashir here already had them, when he was a child. You never did. Why else would you get it? Your body was never exposed to it."
Moving so fast he didn't even think, Bashir drew an arm back and drove his fist into Sloan's face. The other man grunted, slumping in Bashir's grip, and the doctor let him fall to the floor. Bashir turned, hurrying toward the doorway, but he heard the high pitched whine of a forcefield.
The infirmary doors hissed open and Eddington, another security officer, Dax, and Sisko rushed in.
"Julian!" Dax exclaimed.
"Sloan escaped," Bashir said quickly. "And he's not from here. He came through that interdimensional rift."
Eddington and his lieutenant set to work deactivating the force field, then the commander sent the woman off to check on the medical staff. Bashir stepped into the corridor once the force field was down and Eddington hurried into the room, cuffing Sloan and dragging him to his feet. He threw the other man on the bed and bound his legs for good measure.
"I think I know how he came through the rift," Dax said. "I thought it was in a stable orbit, but I was able to do some more analyses with the data I collected yesterday. It's not. It passed through here four days ago, Julian."
Bashir nodded.
"That must have been how he got here, then."
"But why would he come here?" Sisko asked.
"He's after me," Bashir replied.
"What? Why you?"
"Because I'm not the Julian Bashir who's supposed to be here," he replied.
"What?" Sisko and Dax asked at once.
Bashir nodded to Sloan's unconscious form.
"He told me as much, but I was already starting to suspect."
"You can't believe something he would tell you, Doctor," Sisko pointed out.
"No, sir, I believe my own reasoning," Bashir replied. "I have memories I shouldn't have, of races that don't exist here, or things that never happened in this time line."
"But you have all of your memories, too," Dax pointed out.
Bashir nodded.
"I know. I think – I'm not sure, but I think – it may be because I switched places with the Julian from here. I don't think Sloan did that. I think he came through deliberately."
"If that's true, what can we do about it?" Sisko asked.
"I need to get back," Bashir replied. "And the Julian who belongs here needs to get back here. I can take a shuttle into the anomaly. If I'm right, he and I switched when the anomaly passed through the station. We could switch again at the anomaly."
"No," Dax said. "You're assuming he's figured it out and will do the same thing. If you're wrong, you could end up dead in space and he could end up stuck over there."
Bashir really looked at her for the first time since she had arrived and saw the pain her blue eyes. He hesitated. He couldn't very well abandon her without any husband. But he was not her husband. The other Bashir was. He could no more abandon that Bashir to his universe.
"We'll bring it here," Dax said.
"How?" Sisko asked.
"We can use the station's deflector array to create a gravitational pulse, and aim it directly at the anomaly. If we match the frequency with the background radiation leaking from the anomaly, we should be able to attract it without attracting anything else."
"I want simulations," Sisko said. "I don't need a planet crashing into my station the day before the Trisepat gets here. Work with Commander O'Brien. Wait. Julian, are you sure about this?"
"Yes, sir," Bashir said. "And if I'm wrong, we should be able to switch again."
"What if you just stayed here, and he stayed there? You have his memories; he must have yours."
"But I'm starting to regain my memories. We have to assume he's starting to regain his. Eventually, we'd both have overlapping memories of our entire lives. And, if I'm right," he glanced at Dax and drew a deep breath, "Then Jadzia is not my wife, and Renzia is not my child, but his."
Dax looked hurt and confused, but she didn't say anything, and Bashir understood how she felt. He felt the same way, torn between this life and the one he was starting to remember. He wondered if he were married to Dax over there. He tried to remember, but the memories slipped away. And Dax deserved her real husband, and Renzia her real father.
"Dax?" Sisko asked.
"I'll get started right away," she said. "One way or another, we'll sort this out."
"What about Sloan, Captain?" Eddington asked.
"See if you can get that Hendulu's help with him. And An'Hanai. He must have better mental defenses than she thought to hide his origins. And if there's any Section Thirty-One officers operating in this universe, I want to know about it."
"Understood," Eddington said. His lieutenant returned, reported that she'd revived the drugged medical staff, and helped Eddington with Sloan.
"I take it you're a doctor over there, Julian?" Sisko asked.
"Yes, sir," Bashir replied.
"Take care of Simon and Jabara. Dax, you're with me."
"Right," she said, glancing back at Bashir as Sisko turned away. She hesitated for a moment, then stepped toward him, clasped his face between her hands and kissed him on the lips. Bashir kissed back.
"We'll sort this out," he promised in a whisper.
"I know," she replied, then vanished from the infirmary.
Bashir tended to Tarses and Jabara, then returned home. Bareil came by with Renzia, and Bashir was not at all surprised that care of his daughter – the other Bashir's daughter – had changed hands. It seemed to be the norm on this station.
"How are you?" Bareil asked as he returned Renzia to Bashir.
"Confused," Bashir replied, getting a bottle for the baby from the replicator and sitting down on the couch. He gestured for Bareil to take a seat and the kai did, sinking gracefully into the chair opposite the doctor.
"I'm not surprised. Are you absolutely certain about this, Julian? I don't want to see you give up your life for this if you aren't certain."
Bashir sighed and nodded.
"I understand. Believe me. But yes, I'm sure. What Sloan said to me made sense. Why would I get the chicken pox otherwise? In my universe we don't have them anymore. Not to mention all the other strange things I've felt and thought over the past few days."
"Nerys wanted me to ask," Bareil said.
"I appreciate that," Bashir replied.
"May I try something?" the kai asked. Bashir nodded and Bareil extended his left arm, gripping Bashir's right ear gently. Bashir knew the kai rarely did this; it was a tradition that had largely faded under his spiritual guidance. He watched the kai's face as Bareil frowned.
"Yes," the kai said eventually, taking his hand away. "Your pagh doesn't feel quite right. What do you remember of your life there?"
"Not much," Bashir replied. "There's a Klingon on the station right now, this station, I mean, named Worf. I think over there, I know him."
"A Klingon?" Bareil said, raising one eyebrow.
Bashir nodded.
"And a race of people called Romulans who are distantly related to the Vulcans. I don't think I have any children, but I'm pretty sure there's a Jadzia Dax. And a Kira Nerys."
Bareil smiled his gentle smile.
"I'm glad," he said. "I hope the life you have over there is as good as the one you have here."
"I hope so, too," Bashir replied, then looked down at Renzia again. "I'll miss her."
"She'll miss you," Bareil said. "We all will."
The com system interrupted them suddenly.
"Sisko to Bashir."
Bashir shifted the baby's weight and tapped his combadge.
"Bashir here."
"We're ready, Doctor. Report to cargo bay five."
Bashir glanced at Bareil, who nodded.
"On my way," he replied.
He stood and the kai joined him. In silence, they made their way to the cargo bay. His friends were all there waiting: O'Brien, Kira, Odo, Tarses, Jabara, Eddington, and of course, Sisko and Dax. Bashir pulled Dax into a hug and she hugged him back. Then he handed her their daughter.
"Ready?" Sisko asked.
"Ready," Bashir replied with a heavy heart. He turned to his friends and O'Brien clasped his hand, then pulled him into a hug. Kira hugged him as well, and Jabara, and Odo, Tarses and Eddington shook his hand. Sisko was the last to approach him, gripping the doctor's hand and clapping his shoulder.
"Take care of yourself, Julian."
"I will. I'll send the other Julian home safely, too."
Sisko nodded and Bashir stepped into the cargo bay. It was one of the few empty ones, left vacant for ore processing in case they needed extra space, or any other emergency storage needs. Bashir felt small and alone in the empty, echoing bay, and the hiss of the doors as they shut seemed to reverberate all around him.
O'Brien's voice came over the com, filling the void.
"O'Brien to Bashir. We're initializing the gravitational pulse. It shouldn't take too long to pull the anomaly back to us."
"Acknowledged," Bashir replied. He waited what seemed like an eternity until he felt something pulling at him. He stepped toward tug and felt Terok Nor fade behind him. There was nothing for a moment and then Bashir saw someone approaching him.
"Jules?" he said.
"Julian," the other Bashir replied.
He came into view and they both stopped. The other Bashir was wearing the same uniform he had seen in the dream. He saw the same sort of recognition on the other Bashir's face.
"I take it we ended up in the wrong places," the other Bashir said.
"I think so."
"Is there a Dominion over there?" the other Bashir asked, nodding in the direction of Terok Nor.
"Not anymore," Bashir replied. "I take it there's no Trisepat there?"
"Not that your Federation has encountered. I'm sure they're out there." He paused, then took Bashir's hand. "Good luck, Julian."
"And to you, too, Jules."
The other Bashir's lips twitched.
"Only Zia calls me that."
"But not in my life," Bashir sighed, feeling suddenly certain of that. His counterpart nodded, then walked away, leaving Bashir standing by himself. He felt a sudden, burning desire to turn away, to turn his back on his other life and return to Terok Nor. But the retreating form of the other Bashir told him he couldn't do that. It wasn't his life to live. He had to face his own reality, no matter what was in it.
He turned toward his universe and stepped across the threshold.