3 Years Later…

Julian Bashir switched off his com screen and sat back in his chair. He rubbed his eyes and looked around his empty quarters. He stood up, stretching, and cracked his stiff back.

"Computer, time," he said.

"The time is nineteen hundred sixteen."

Bashir sighed. He glanced at his com again and ran his hands through his hair. He hardly ever read his journal entries from after he had returned from the alternate universe, because he could no longer remember any of it. The memories had begun to fade immediately after his return, and he had recorded what he could recall, but he knew there was information missing. There hadn't been a Dominion, but he couldn't remember what had been in the Gamma Quadrant in their place. He remembered that Sloan had followed him, and had hoped at first that they had found some way to deal with the Section Thirty-One officer, but true to his deceptive nature, Sloan had turned up again in Bashir's life.

He thought of Jadzia and felt the familiar emptiness in his heart. She had been dead for almost three years now, but not a day went by when he didn't miss her. Ezri Dax had helped fill that hole, but she was her own person. She could not replace Jadzia, nor would Bashir have wanted her to. He couldn't imagine a life without her, either, and the thought of her made him smile. He hadn't been able to remember if there had been an Ezri over there, but he hoped fervently that Jadzia was still alive to be with her husband and raise their daughter. He hoped Ezri had been spared the sudden joining she'd been subjected to here, which had turned her life upside down.

The door chime made him look up.

"Come in!" he called.

The subject of his thoughts, Ezri Dax, stepped into his quarters. He smiled at her and she smiled back, crossing the room. Bashir took her hands and kissed her.

"I'm not intruding, am I?" she asked.

"No," he replied. "I was just reading my journal entries. From the alternate universe."

Ezri nodded, then ran a hand through his hair.

"You still don't remember any of that?" she asked.

"No," he said.

"I wonder what things are like over there for them?"

"I was just thinking the same thing," Bashir replied. "Maybe one day we'll find a way through like we have to that other alternate universe."

"That one would be better than the Alliance one," Ezri said.

Bashir nodded in agreement, then kissed her cheek.

"Ready to go for dinner?" he asked.

"You bet," she replied.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and gave her a one-armed hug. All in all, he considered, he had a good life over here. He'd always wonder about the other Bashir, but he had his life, and Bashir had his. Sometimes he thought he might choose differently if he was given the chance, but it was a chance he would not be able to take in good conscience, if it were ever offered to him. This universe, this Starfleet, this station, this Ezri, they were his life. He had no right to exchange that for anything.

Julian Bashir switched off his com screen and sat back in his chair. He rubbed his eyes and looked around his empty quarters. He stood up, stretching, and cracked his stiff back.

"Computer, time," he said.

"The time is nineteen hundred sixteen."

Bashir sighed. He glanced at his com again and ran his hands through his hair. He hardly ever read his journal entries from after he had returned from the alternate universe, because he could no longer remember any of it; the memories had begun to fade immediately after his return, and he had recorded what he could recall, but he knew there was information missing. There had been a war, but he couldn't remember who the Federation had been fighting, or when or how the Klingon Empire had allied with the Federation.

He wondered occasionally if the other Bashir had ever gotten together with Dax, if he had ever worked up the nerve to sort things out the way he had wanted them. It never failed to make him grateful for what he had: ten years of marriage and a beautiful family he wouldn't trade for anything.

The door hissed open and Bashir looked up. Dax stepped over the threshold, carrying Narye Bashir on one hip. Renzia raced in, throwing herself at her father, wrapping her small arms around Bashir's legs and beaming up at him. Bashir grinned back and scooped her into his arms, covering her face in kisses.

"Hello, darling," he said. "And my other darlings."

Dax grinned at him and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. Narye wriggled in her mother's arms, stretching her own arms out to Bashir and he settled his other daughter onto his free hip. He gave her a kiss on the forehead and she made a grab for his hair that he narrowly avoided. She was nine months old now, with a full head of dark, curly hair and hazel eyes. Everyone said she looked like her father, which Bashir found amusing, as there was not a drop of human blood in her. He and Dax had adopted her, an orphaned Trill girl, less than three weeks after she had been born.

"What were you up to?" Dax asked.

"I was reading my journal entries. From the alternate universe."

"You haven't started remembering anything, have you?" she asked.

"No. Have you?"

She shook her head.

"Of course not."

Bashir wasn't surprised; no one actually remembered anymore. The only reason they knew was Bashir had recorded what he could recall, and the station's senior staff had made professional logs about the experiences leading up to bringing the anomaly to the station. Eddington apparently had some personal logs about it, too, but Bashir had never read them. Two years ago, Eddington had been promoted to captain and given command of his own ship. Before leaving, he had told Bashir his personal logs contained some information about Luther Sloan's escape. No trace of him was ever found, and none of the extensive investigations had ever uncovered how he had managed to escape. Bashir and Eddington assumed he'd somehow slipped back through the anomaly before Dax had collapsed it, and returned to his own universe. Starfleet Command had enlisted the help of the Gri'Thethi and the Kbsai in rooting out any remaining Section Thirty-One operatives. Admiral Dukat, now retired, had been in charge of that, but they had found nothing.

"I got a letter from Nerys today," Dax said. "This morning."

"Yes?" Bashir asked, looking up. Kira had moved to Bajor, taking a position at the Federation embassy there, shortly after Bashir had returned. It had been at his suggestion, after she had started suffering headaches and loss of sleep from the stress of being constantly separated from Bareil.

"She's due any day now, and she says she feels like she's going to burst. I told her that was normal."

Bashir grinned at his wife.

"Is she still thinking of coming here to have the baby?"

"I think Antos has convinced her not to," Dax hazarded and Bashir laughed.

"Good. She should be where she's comfortable. And it's only three hours to Bajor; we can easily go visit her."

Dax nodded, taking Narye from her father's arms. Bashir set Renzia down on the floor.

"Want to get started on dinner?" Dax called over her shoulder as she took the baby into their bedroom to change her.

"Will do," Bashir agreed, then crouched down to talk to his oldest daughter. "Why don't you do some colouring while I'm getting supper ready?"

"Can you colour with me?" Renzia asked.

"After we eat," Bashir promised, ruffling her hair, and she giggled, grinning at him. He pushed himself to his feet again and paused for a moment to listen to the sounds of his family living their lives. He had a great life here, and wouldn't have traded it for anything. He would always wonder how that other Bashir was doing, but, given the chance, wouldn't choose to find out. Not if it meant sacrificing what he had here. They had separate lives, and Bashir knew that he wouldn't trade this one for anything in either universe.