Sickbay
By Disco Cult Madness
Summary: Julian has a secret that is eating him alive. Based on some of the events of Whispers. Timeline slightly altered, Bashir/O'Brien slash.
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine, as much as I wish they were.
Warning: Slash. Don't read if you don't like. Nothing graphic.
Author's Note: First DS9 fic. I've been re-watching the series on Spike and nothing screams love like Bashir/O'Brien.
Sickbay is so lonely in the night. The pungent smells of antibacterial cleanser and sterilized instruments are my only companions left at this hour. They don't make for very good conversational partners, but when you're in my position, they're the only ones you can trust. As insane as it may seem, the intangible qualities of Sickbay are my lifeline. They keep me here, level headed, and sober. I can tell them anything about myself, and they don't judge me. If I cry, they don't care and in some ways that's comforting. But my Sickbay lacks a major aspect that I need.
Compassion.
Sickbay doesn't have strong arms in which to cradle me when I fall. My medicines lack a voice to calm me, to praise me, or even to tell me how my adoration is returned. But the inhumanity they possess is what draws me to them in my darkest hours. They don't fill my head with lies; they don't promise me things will be ok. The don't promise me anything. Promises can be broken. Cold steal can't. And here, in amongst the screens and pillars, I am fine. I am at ease. I am human.
Julian stretched his arms above his head, working the sore spot in the middle of his back as he ended his personal log. Sickbay glowed with artificial light. It circled the young doctor like a halo, yet he felt like he was absorbing it all, tainting it, and keeping it locked deep inside his own darkness. He was perched on the edge of one of the medical beds, a shot of anesthesia clutched in his left hand. Sleep had evaded him for so long now, it was hard to remember when the last time he'd slept of his own accord.
"No," He groaned, replacing the anesthetic to its proper holder, "not tonight."
The doctor ran his hand down the side of his face and strode out towards the promenade.
Quark chuckled to himself as the young Deltan woman he'd been chatting with strode off, two strips of gold press latinum lighter. He placed the strips under the bar and turned his attentions to the doctor meandering in, looking quite lost.
"Bashir!" He cried jovially, "Welcome, welcome. Sit down here with me. I have something to discuss with you."
Nodding, Julian took a seat at the bar. Quark made his way around the bar, almost skipping with excitement. He took his seat and grinned up at the medical officer.
"And what has you in such high spirits?" Julian muttered.
"I have an excellent opportunity for the both of us! Incredible adventure and even more incredible profit." The Ferranti's eyes glowed with some sort of sick lust. "I have a shipment of-"
"Count me out Quark. You know better."
The Ferengi almost pouted. "But Julian! You're never interested in my ideas."
"And what makes you so certain that this time will be any different?" Sighing, the doctor propped his arm on the bar and stared at the bar tender with half interest.
"No matter, I can tell you're too sober. Let's remedy that, and then perhaps we'll talk." Quark grinned, nodding towards his brother who brought the two a pair of drinks.
"Julian, I-I'm so frightened."
"It's alright, I'm here. I'll be here for you, you know that."
"Am I going crazy? No one here is the same. Everyone has changed, they're all against me."
"No, Miles, I haven't changed. I will never change."
Too many drinks were gone. They just kept coming, and soon, Julian realised he was the one commanding their arrival. As he held his freshest drink, he looked at Quark. The Ferengi had this look about him that puzzled the doctor. Was it…concern?
"Come now Julian, I think you've had enough. Maybe it's time for you to go back to your quarters?" Quark smiled an odd, unthreatening smile which upset the doctor's stomach.
"You know what; you're just like the others." The doctor sighed, tossing his drink to the side, watching it spill all over the bar. "But what can I expect from a Ferengi."
He stood to leave, stumbled, and ended up sitting on his stool again.
"I'll have you know doctor, that Ferengis' can be very good listeners. And I can tell you're feeling quite tortured. So how about we talk about it."
"Why? So you can diagnose my problems and use them to your own advantage?"
Laughing, Quark went on. "No, no, no. I try not to take advantage of those I like."
"Oh, a compliment. How low will you stoop?"
"I'm not stooping, hu-mon. I'm genuinely concerned."
"Well, luckily for you, I'm too drunk to care."
And the doctor let loose all his torment; all his pain.
It had been such a confusing time. Not that the time stranded alone with O'Brien hadn't been confusing enough. The connection they had formed had brought something to light inside of the doctor that he couldn't place. It made him awkward. But there he'd been, clad in nothing but his pajama bottoms, towel pressed to his head as the distress call came through to his quarters.
"Julian!" It was O'Brien's voice, and at the sound of it, Bashir dropped his towel and sprinted to his communicator badge.
"Miles? Is that you?"
"Yes, yes. Please, you have to help me! It's Keiko. No, it's Molly…its Sisko, oh God it's everyone!" There was a crack in the officer's voice; almost a sob.
"Come to my quarters."
There was no response, and for a moment, Julian had wondered if his reception had been cut off. He stood, the water dripping from his hair down his neck, wondering if the chief was alright. He absent mindedly swatted at the beads of moisture working their way down his spine. He was about to dismiss the call as a night-terror of O'Brien's when the call came at his door.
"Enter." He commanded, and in scurried O'Brien, eyes brimming with tears.
"My God, Julian, please tell me-"
"Hush, come, sit down." Julian took Mile's arm, suddenly feeling very aware of himself.
But instead of following him, the officer threw himself into the doctor. He buried his head into the crook of the other man's neck and wrapped his strong arms around the slender frame in front of him. Julian gasped. His blood began to rush to his face and all morality seemed to float away from him in a haze of confusion.
"Keiko. She's not my Keiko." The officer was almost wailing into Julian, and all the other man could do was wrap his arms around the man's waist and hold him.
So much longing burned in his veins. His body felt like it was melting, turning to liquid and quivering in the grip of the object of his desire. He fought back his impulses and tried to keep a level head. But the warmth of the other man's body against him was a slow torture. He was so close. He was right there. They were both right there, vulnerable, and so lost.
"Miles, I-" Julian choked slightly on his own words.
O'Brien looked up at him, tears streaming down his face. He looked so beautiful to Julian in the dim light. The rest was a blur of passion. Lips lightly grazed lips, and the mist of their bodies melding together engulfed the stars. There were no more words, for none were needed. They became a beautiful mix of tension and urge. The awkward, secret whispers of the past few weeks had exploded in a super nova of physical release. Julian moaned as every forbidden instinct in his body took a hold of his mind. He was no longer himself. He was an animal seeking euphoria.
And when O'Brien had left, they were both silent. It wasn't until the next morning Julian was informed of O'Brien's disappearance. The O'Brien he had shared the night with was in fact a replicant; a clone of sorts. He went with his captain, finding the real O'Brien captive and none-the-wiser to what Julian had experienced with the other Miles.
As the replicant died, so convinced that he was the real O'Brien, he begged for his other self to tell his wife that he loved her.
"The look in his eyes was so-" Julian sighed, "so Miles."
Quark examined the doctor silently, his lips slightly pursed in an unspoken thought.
"I feel so guilty about that stolen moment. It was Miles, but it wasn't. And now I can't face the real O'Brien. If he were to know…"
Julian faded, a single tear threatening to fall. He wiped it away and shook his head.
"It doesn't matter, I suppose. I know O'Brien isn't fond of me. But how do I go on feeling like this?"
"Feeling like what?" Quark asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Feeling like I love a man that is buried inside a man I work with, see everyday, and who seemingly despises me?"
The Ferengi shook his head and waved for a security officer to escort the doctor to his quarters.
"But what about your scheme for 'incredible profit'. And my tab for that matter?" The doctor mumbled as he allowed himself to be supported by a junior security officer.
"It's all on me. You…you just…" Quark went silent and turned from the doctor, shaking his head.
As he was escorted from the promenade, Bashir instructed the security officer to escort him to Sickbay.
A/N: That was a little short, but I'm basically just wetting my lip here. I want to write a sort of epic, but I want to get a feeling for the characters. Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated, as are any reviews.