Curzon Dax was already lying on an operating table when Jadzia Idaris entered the room. He looked so different from her last memory of him; back then, he had been towering and imposing, commanding her life with a harsh, unyielding manner. He had had a way of charming everyone around him or cowing them into doing what he wanted. Once, he had been a ladies' man, dashing and charismatic.

Now, he was withered and frail, his once dark hair a faded, wispy white. His eyes were rapidly losing the fire Idaris had come to fear during her field training. The skin on his face looked fragile, like old paper which would crumble into dust at the lightest of touches. He was barely a shadow of the Curzon who had terrified her. It was an unnerving sight to say the least and only a little gratifying. She wondered if he knew she'd requested the Dax symbiont, or if he even remembered her. She had no idea how good his memory was right now, or if he had bothered to recall a young initiate who he had flushed from the program. Perhaps she had been so far beneath his notice in the first place that he saw her not as his former student, but just as another Trill host coming to be joined.

She glanced back at Bashir and gave him a soft smile and a kiss on the cheek, which he returned. Idaris knew he was nervous this– so was she. But she knew he was willing to take the chance, and, out of all the considerate things anyone had ever done for her, this one topped the list by far. She hoped with all of her heart that Dax would not change her so much she would no longer love him the way she did now. She couldn't imagine not loving someone who was willing to give so much for her without a single complaint.

She had been dressed in a thin, pale green cotton gown in the prep room and was starting to get cold. Her feet were bare, as were the lower half of her legs, her forearms, and, of course, her stomach. She rubbed her arms gently and the surgeon gestured to her to get onto the operating table. Idaris climbed up carefully, conscious of the fact that her gown didn't cover much, and lay down. The nurse covered her legs with a thin blanket that didn't really do much in the way of heat. Bashir came to stand beside her and she raised one hand, searching for his. He enfolded her hand in his owns, pressing it gently, and smiled down at her.

"Love you," he mouthed.

She mouthed the words in return, aware of the silence in the operating room and not wanting to break it. The surgeon, whose face was now almost completely covered so that only his brown eyes showed, injected an anesthetic into her neck. There was a moment where Idaris felt the influx of the drug into her system, then she could feel nothing in the lower half of her body. She tightened her grip on Bashir's hand; she could still feel that. He squeezed back and Idaris raised her head slightly to see the surgeon making an incision into Curzon's torso. Carefully, the doctor eased the symbiont from the dying man's body. Idaris watched as the last of the light began draining from his eyes.

"Curzon," she whispered. He turned his eyes to her and gave her a weak smile. Still, Idaris had no idea if he recognized her or not.

The surgeon turned his back on the dying host and passed the symbiont to the waiting nurse. He made an incision into her stomach and Idaris saw Bashir's jaw tighten. He didn't like watching others perform surgery while he did nothing, especially when the procedure was being done to her. She gave his hand another squeeze, then winced slightly at the pressure of the symbiont being inserted. Idaris took a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying to will away the nervousness and unease. Then her features relaxed and she took a moment for a deep breath to allow a sense of peace and well being to return.


Jadzia Dax opened her eyes.

The first thing she saw was Julian Bashir's deep, bright eyes looking back down at her, questioningly. She was startled by his appearance for a moment: he looked so young. Then she realized she felt so young. She could feel the vitality of a body in its mid-twenties, all the energy, the passion, the life. It was shocking, as it always was, to be returned to such a healthy state after accompanying a past host until the moment of his or her death.

She gave Bashir a smile and his face relaxed into a smile as well. Then Dax raised her head, glancing across the room at Curzon, who was now lying still, dead, on the other operating table. She glanced down at herself and was frankly surprised.

"I haven't been a woman in a long time," she commented.

The sudden sound of laughter surprised her; the noise was deep, rich, full of emotion. It was Bashir, she realized. She had never been aware of how beautiful his laugh was. She felt a tiny flicker of hope; if she could feel a deeper appreciation for him now, maybe things would work out.

"How do you feel?" the surgeon asked from behind his purple mask.

"Fine. Great," Dax replied, and meant it. The body she was in now was strong, young, and fit. Starfleet, of course. She would have known even without Jadzia's memories. She propped herself on her forearms carefully, watching the surgeon's eyes crease with a frown, but Bashir, the future doctor, simply gave her a helping hand. He trusted her. She knew that.

"I want to see my family," she said. Dax tried to swing her legs from the bed and failed miserably.

"You're still anesthetized," Bashir reminded her with a grin.

She gave a short laugh and ducked her head for a quick moment before the surgeon injected her with another dose of medication.

"Give it a few minutes," he advised. "We'll move Curzon, then your family can come in. I wouldn't recommend walking around until the feeling has fully returned. You should know that, by now."

The surgeon and the nurse transferred Curzon's body to a stretcher and guided it from the room. A sudden silence engulfed Dax and Bashir, who looked at each other like two strangers meeting for the first time. But only for a moment.

"How do you feel?" Bashir asked.

"I feel fine, Jules, I really do."

"It's going to take some getting used to, calling you 'Dax'."

She squeezed his hand.

"I'm still Jadzia," she reminded him. " 'Zia' will be fine."

"You look different," he commented.

"How so?"

"Stronger, more confident."

"I feel more confident," she replied, then gave him a bright smile. "It's a great feeling. Like I can do anything, take on any challenge. Now I know what's it like to feel like you do."

He chuckled and sat down on the bed beside her. The feeling was beginning to return to Dax's legs and she winced slightly as the pins and needles sensation spread through the lower half of her body. She shifted her legs gently and wiggled her toes.

"What's it like, being over three hundred years old?"

"So nice to be in a young body again," she replied, to which Bashir smiled.

"I'm pretty fond of that body, too," he said. Dax made a face, sticking out her tongue and he laughed, shaking his head. She was relieved they were getting along, at least. She had been afraid the symbiont would find Bashir too young, too inexperienced for her new tastes. She was still afraid that would happen; she'd barely been joined and all the of the memories of her past lives hadn't surfaced yet. When they did, her experience would be greater. Bashir's would be the same as it was right now, plus a few days. She was worried that a gulf might open between them, one that was unbridgeable.

It left a cold feeling in her stomach, right where the symbiont was.

The doors hissed open then and her family came in. Dax's worries vanished immediately when she saw their smiling, curious faces and she grinned back at them, beckoning them to come in. She was delighted to see them again; it had been so long since she and Bashir had last been to Trill, or her family to Earth, and being rushed into the operating room wasn't the most leisurely of greetings. And now they looked so young and vibrant to her. She had Bashir help her from the bed, now that the feeling had painfully returned to her lower body, and embraced her parents warmly. She understood so much more about them, now, having been a parent several times before. It was so odd to have those experiences suddenly, when just an hour ago, she still had no idea if she ever wanted children.

Her sisters crowded around her, pestering her with questions and hugs until their father intervened and told them to calm down. Dax could only grin; the enthusiasm the three of them had always shared was still there, and still contagious.

"I assume there's a joining counselor waiting to talk to me?" she asked.

"You'd be right," her father replied. Dax nodded, although she had no desire to talk to a counselor. This was her seventh joining and she knew what to expect. And she wanted to leave the institute as soon as possible; Jadzia had many unhappy, stressful memories of this place. But she knew that it was her responsibility as a newly joined host to go.

They left the operating room and met with a smiling nurse who offered to show them to the counselor's office. Dax accepted to avoid a disagreement and draw this out any longer. They followed the young woman – who was really probably about Jadzia's age – through a sunlit corridor and down a set of wide stairs that led to a bright lobby. There were people coming and going in the lobby, some of them young initiates. Dax found herself amazed by their appearance; had she really been one of them only a decade ago? They seemed so unconcerned by the pressures of being initiates, which was not at all how she felt back then. A young man on the stairs behind them cried past them:

"Ezri! Hey, Ezri!"

Dax spotted a young, dark haired girl turn and look up toward them, past them, to the boy who had called her. She grinned and waved.

"Jarlan!"

"Wait up!" the young man cried and slipped past them, giving them an apologetic but confident grin for any jostling, and hurried down the stairs. The girl Ezri waited for him, then they vanished from the building into the fresh air outside.

The group made their way down into the lobby. Dax recognized the psychology wing; she had spent too much time here as an initiate, being screened to determine if she was mentally capable of accepting a symbiont. The offices were toward the back of the wing. They all had wide windows and overlooked gardens, but Dax had never felt comfortable in those offices. The view of the gardens had seemed mocking, as if reminding her that she was trapped in a psychology session, cut off from the outside world until she'd satisfied some doctor's requirements.

Now, however, she knew what to do, how to act, how to reassure them. And she knew when she did so that she would not be lying. Dax carried all these memories for her, letting her know things would be all right.

"I can beam home after I'm done here," she said. "Why don't you all go on ahead?"

"Are you sure you don't mind, darling?" her mother asked.

"Not at all. I know the way to the transporter station," she replied with a smile.

"All right," her mother agreed and her father nodded. Dax gave Bashir a kiss on the cheek.

"See you later," she said softly and he nodded, returning the kiss. She felt strange kissing him, as if she didn't quite have his permission. She knew he was the same Julian, but she was not the same Jadzia. Would he like this new her? Would he love her? Mild anxiety churned in her stomach; she didn't know if she could imagine a life without this medical student who had become so important to her over the past two years. But could a young human man satisfy her emotional needs now? Could she do the same for him?

"You bet," he replied and Dax heard a familiar warmth in his voice. She was heartened to hear it and gave him another quick, impulsive kiss. Then she followed the nurse, who was waiting patiently for her. She glanced back once over her shoulder to see Bashir watching her leave and just his gaze made her feel better, more confident about what she was about to face.


It took two transporter trips to get to the Idaris home almost on the other side of Trill. On that side of the planet, it was already dark. They lived in a small town which was quiet at this hour, a peaceful quietness that Bashir appreciated. The stars were out, the constellations so alien from those the medical student was used to seeing on Earth. The house was a two story modern building with large windows and an airy interior. Bashir turned down dinner, truthfully claiming tiredness from the trip and the whirlwind surgery, and headed into the bedroom he and Dax normally shared when they visited. The bed had been made up for them, and the curtains had been drawn back from the window so that moon- and starlight gave the room a soft blue glow.

Bashir put Dax's suitcase by the wall and put his on the bed. He flipped it open and pulled out the t-shirt and cotton pants in which he slept and changed from his day to day clothing. He cleaned up and crawled into the soft, comfortable bed. Although his mind was spinning with the events of that day, his body overruled it and he was asleep, in the alien moonlight, within minutes.


When Dax arrived at her parents' house, there was still one light on in the otherwise dark dwelling. She guessed correctly that her father was awake and waiting for her. She had inherited her night-owl tendencies from him. Her mother preferred a full night's sleep, while her father didn't require very much sleep at all and liked to spend a few quiet hours reading after everyone else had retired. She had never been allowed to join him: it was his time to himself, but he'd never stopped her from staying up and reading in her bedroom.

Which she could see was dark as well; Bashir was probably asleep. He had an amazing talent for being able to sleep anywhere, anytime, if needed. Dax suspected it was something they taught in medical school. She'd never known a doctor who couldn't do that. Although Bashir was still technically a medical student, Dax had been thinking of him as a doctor for about a year now. In one more year, he'd be officially recognized as such, and she knew he'd be a brilliant physician.

She slipped into the house and made her way by memory to the small library her parents had built up over the years. The door had been left open and she poked her head inside. Her father looked up and smiled, beckoning her inside. Dax stepped in and sat down in one of the two large, leather armchairs.

"How are you doing, Zia?" Keila asked.

"All right," she replied. "Glad to be out of that counseling session. I don't think I ever want to go back there again."

He laughed, taking one of her hands and squeezing it.

"How's Jules?" she asked.

"He went to bed as soon as we got home," Keila replied. "He's either exhausted or didn't want to be prodded with questions."

Dax frowned slightly, leaning back in her chair.

"You're worried," her father observed.

"To say the least," she replied with a sigh. "Dad, I don't know what's going to happen and it scares me."

"You were never one to back down from a challenge," her father told her.

"Jules isn't a challenge, he's a person."

"Of course he is," her father assured her. "But making any relationship work is a challenge, Zia. The two of you have managed to do so for the last two years. Do you really think you'll change enough to make that impossible now?"

"I don't know," she replied honestly. "I have no idea how this is going to affect me. I can remember all the other hosts and I have all their experiences, but it's like wading into a sea of pages torn from old books. I can't make sense of any of it yet."

"It takes time."

"I don't want to lose him."

"So don't. You're still Jadzia, regardless of what last name you take. The other hosts, none of them can tell you how you feel about Julian. None of them have the right to, and none of them know him. He's your partner, your friend. And this is your life. Not theirs."

"I know," Dax replied, nodding. "It's all so confusing right now."

"I understand," her father said and, even though he wasn't joined, Dax felt that he really did understand. "And humans do have a hard time with it, as most other aliens do when someone becomes joined, or a host switches bodies. You'll have to be aware of that. But remember Julian does know you, Jadzia, and he's willing to work this out."

"I am, too," she replied.

"I know." He paused, and touched her chin with two fingers, a small gesture of support. "Don't worry about it too much, darling, or else you might worry it to pieces. Take it a day at a time for now, and you'll sort it out."

"I hope you're right," Dax replied, rising from her chair. She leaned down to give her father a kiss on the cheek, which he returned. "I'm going to bed now."

"Sleep well."

She nodded and left the soft glow of the library's light, heading back into the darkness of the rest of the house. She went upstairs, trailing the fingertips of her left hand along the wooden banister, then along the wall until she reached her old bedroom.

The curtains were open on the window and Bashir was indeed asleep, on his back, in the moonlight. Dax found her suitcase, which he had left next to the door for her, and changed from her street clothes into her pajamas. She sat on the edge of the bed and looked at him for a moment, hand hovering just above his chest. She felt like waking him, but didn't know if she should. Maybe she didn't have the right to anymore. Maybe he wanted to sleep.

With a sigh, she drew her hand away and refrained from giving him a quick kiss in case it woke him up. Instead, she settled under the covers next to him and closed her eyes on the first day of her new life.


When Bashir awoke in the morning, Dax was gone, although he could see where she had slept. And he had the faint memory of being half-awoken when she'd kissed his temple before leaving the bedroom. He sat up, blinking in the sunlight, and glanced around. Her suitcase was open on a chair, and his was on the floor beside it, on its side but unopened. He felt a glimmer of relief that the Jadzia he knew must still be present; leaving his suitcase at the ready was something she would do.

He got up and changed into some civilian clothing and brushed his hair. He was just sitting back down on the bed to put his socks on when there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," Bashir said and the door hissed open to reveal Talan, Dax's youngest sister. She leaned against the frame, crossing her arms, grinning at him. She was only seventeen and going to university in about a month. In appearance, she looked like her sisters and her mother: fair skinned with dark hair and startlingly blue eyes.

"'Morning, Jules," she said casually. Very few people called him that anymore, not since he'd found out about the genetic engineering and realized Jules Bashir had effectively died as a small boy. But he couldn't shake the habit from some people, including Dax and her sisters.

"Good morning, Tal. Where's Jadzia?"

"Just went downstairs about fifteen minutes ago. Breakfast is on. Are you coming?"

"I'll be right there."

"Had a chance to talk to the new Zia yet?" she enquired.

"Not yet," Bashir replied.

Talan gave him a one-shouldered shrug and another bright grin.

"Don't sweat it, human," she said. "Most of you can't wrap your heads around Trill you knew that were just joined. But you're pretty bright."

With that, she pushed herself away from the door frame and headed off. Bashir watched her leave; she was wearing a skirt and no shoes, so he could see the distinctive Trill markings, remnants of camouflage, running down her legs and feet. He looked at his own feet, without any spots, then closed his eyes. He had never felt more alien on Trill than he did right now. Most humans couldn't get used to a newly joined Trill they'd known before he or she was joined. He'd heard that before. He'd just never really believed it.

He told himself Talan hadn't meant to cause him any doubts. After all, she was still young and had no plans of being joined herself. And she was a Trill. If she ever faced a friend or loved one being joined, she'd naturally be able to deal with it, the way unjoined Trill had been dealing with it for millennia.

He was just a human. An alien.

Setting his jaw against his own doubts, Bashir pulled on his socks and went downstairs to join the Idaris family for their first breakfast with Jadzia Dax.