"This is stupid."

"What is?"

Bashir stopped and Dax turned to face him. For the past hour, they had been walking in one of the government managed natural parks just outside of the town in which she had grown up. Her family had given them time to themselves and they had decided to get away from everyone, to spend some time alone.

"I've spent the last hour trying to think of things to say to you!" Bashir complained. "Since when do I need to do that? I never feel pressured to make small talk with you."

"It is a bit weird," Dax agreed.

"A bit?" Bashir asked. "Zia, I haven't felt this much at a loss since we first met. No, that's not true. I didn't even feel like this when we met."

Dax nodded, but said:

"It is somewhat like getting to know each other again, Jules," she replied.

"I know," he said.

"I think you know, but I don't think you understand. It takes some getting used to."

"And what about for you?" he asked. "Is this taking some getting used to for you?"

"Of course it is."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair in agitation. He began walking again and Dax fell into step beside him.

"I wish I knew what was going to happen," he said halfway under his breath.

"If we knew what was going to happen, what would be the point in experiencing it?" she asked.

"Hah!" Bashir said, pointing at her. "That's definitely different. Jadzia Idaris didn't like being ignorant about outcomes."

"I still don't," she replied. "But I can accept it far more easily."

"I wish I could," Bashir sighed, tilting his head back and looking at the clear azure sky. He tripped on a root in his path and Dax caught him, righting him. "Thanks," he said.

"Don't hurt yourself," she said with a smile. "I'm not the doctor, remember?"

"But Audrid was," Bashir pointed out.

"That's true," Dax mused. "It could probably come in handy."

"I bet having been a pilot could, too."

"And an engineer."

"Maybe a diplomat, if you have to make peace with any Cardassians."

Dax laughed.

"It could help in first contact situations," she pointed out. "And Curzon didn't make peace with Cardassia."

"I know, I know," Bashir said, waving a hand. "Just hammered out the agreement that merged the Federation and the Alliance. Nothing major."

Dax laughed again.

"Well I'm glad you still have your sense of humour, cynical as it may be."

"I'm not the one with three hundred years more experience," Bashir pointed out. "How's your sense of humour?"

"Better, I think," Dax replied. "I can handle you, after all."

"Haha," Bashir replied but shot her a genuine smile. She grinned back. They past another two Trill who were walking in the opposite direction. They nodded to Dax but stared at Bashir, who stared back.

"Strange, isn't it?" Dax asked.

"What?" Bashir asked in return.

"Being the alien."

"Do you feel that way on Earth?"

"At the Academy? No, but Emony felt it. The gymnast. Personally, I like humans, but I'm far more used to them than some of my hosts were."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that," Bashir said. "I'm sure your human friends will, too."

"Hmm," Dax said pensively. "Well, I hope so. I wonder about those who knew Curzon. I don't know what they'll think of a young female Dax."

Bashir raised his eyebrows, looking at her.

"I doubt they'll be anything but impressed. And I know your friends, Zia, will like you no matter what."

Dax nodded.

"For the most part, I think you're right," she agreed.

Bashir thought the ones who wouldn't like her now weren't really worth having anyway. He didn't say so, because it was Dax's right to choose her friends, not his.

They were nearing the end of the path, where the transporter pads were located, and where the shuttle service stopped. They had come by shuttle, because Dax enjoyed seeing the scenery of her home planet and Bashir hadn't seen all of Trill. He appreciated the chance to see what he could; the planet was large and he was biased towards its natural beauty, perhaps because it was so foreign to him. He'd been to more places on Earth than he could count, and, after awhile, it had all begun to look familiar. Trill was still a novelty.

"I'd love to go to the Hoobishan Baths," Dax said as they stepped out from the shade of the trees into the dappled sunlight. Bashir squinted until his eyes adjusted to the new level of light, then nodded, flashing her a grin.

"You're offering me the chance to be massaged by beautiful women and you think I might turn it down?" he joked.

She grinned back.

"I don't expect you will, at that," she replied.

"Then by all means," Bashir said, gesturing at the transporter pad. They registered their destination while waiting for a trio of hikers to materialize, then climbed up onto the pad. Dax gave the command to energize, and Bashir felt himself dissolving as the standard Federation transporters converted him from matter into energy. A moment later, he was rematerializing at the Hoobishan Baths.

They weren't the only ones with the idea of a day at the renowned spa. The transporters were busy with people coming and going, but Bashir had been here before, and knew they wouldn't have a problem getting in. There was more than enough staff to accommodate the busy schedule.

Dax grinned at him and stepped down from the transporter pad. It had been one of Idaris' favorite places before being joined and Bashir suspected it would remain so. They joined the line for admittance, gave their names and chose their treatments, then were given towels and bathrobes. They parted ways to change, then met up again for a short wait until their masseuses became available.

Dax was able to get in before he was, so Bashir was left waiting alone, surrounded by Trill who were in small groups or sitting by themselves, reading. He looked around, wondering who here was a joined Trill, who was not, and who intended to be one day. He wondered if there were any new symbionts in first hosts, a circumstance that was fairly rare, from what Dax had explained to him.

Bashir felt a stab of relief to see a few other aliens wander in and take comfortable seats. A Bolian woman nodded to him and he nodded back. A Bajoran woman was chatting with a Vulcan man, which surprised him. Not the conversation, but just the presence of the Vulcan in a place like this. He seemed at ease, however, as much as a Vulcan ever was, and was involved in the conversation with his companion.

A stunningly beautiful Trill approached him, smiling radiantly. She had red-gold hair that fell to her waist and was pinned loosely back from her face. The shade of her hair seemed to sharpen the colour of her Trill spots. Her eyes blazed a vivid, chocolate brown from underneath red-gold lashes. She was the masseuse Bashir had had the first time he'd come here, and the one he always went back to.

"Hello, Julian," she said.

"Hello, Shelar," Bashir replied and rose, following her. She led him into a private room lit by candles and filled with soft, soothing Trill music, the style of which he did not recognize.

"Good to see you again. I was wondering if Starfleet would ever give you and Jadzia any time off to come back."

Bashir smiled as he sat down in her massage chair. She rubbed some oils on her hands, a fragrance that was similar to lavender. The first time he'd been here, she'd used something on him that was fine for Trill but apparently not for humans; he'd developed a rash all over his back and shoulders.

"We had planned this for awhile," he said. "But we would have ended up having to come anyway."

"Why?" Shelar asked. "Nothing serious, I hope."

"No," Bashir assured her. "Jadzia was joined."

He could feel Shelar's surprised in the momentary pause of her hands.

"Really? Good for her? To whom?"

"Dax."

There was a quick intake of breath behind him.

"Dax? Very impressive," she said. "Must be interesting."

"It was just yesterday," Bashir replied.

"I remember hearing that Curzon Dax had died," Shelar said. "He'll be missed."

Not by Zia, Bashir thought, but kept that to himself. The people of Trill had good reason to hold Curzon Dax in high esteem, as did everyone in the Federation. Whatever he had been like as a man didn't change what he'd accomplished. Federation history, Starfleet history in particular, was riddled with characters like that, men or women who had accomplished amazing things, but may not have been the most tolerable people to know personally.

"Well, I hope things work out between you," Shelar said. "I've heard it's difficult for non-Trill to adjust to a newly joined Trill."

Bashir felt his stomach tighten as it had this morning when Talan had made her offhanded comment about the same thing. Why did people keep saying that to him? He took a deep, slow breath, pretending nothing had bothered him, and nodded his head once.

"I'm sure it will," he said with a confidence he was no longer really feeling. If it was such a problem for non-Trill to adjust, then why did he think he was any different? Jadzia was a completely different person now. He understood there were still elements of her personality in there, but she would be forming a new personality based on the experiences and memories of Dax's past hosts. Both she and Bashir were essentially being dropped into a relationship with a two year history without knowing each other anymore.

He felt sick.

He kept up his side of the conservation to keep Shelar from realizing how much her comment had bothered him, but inside, he was mulling it over, dissecting everything he and Dax had said to each other since she'd opened her eyes on that operating table the day before.

It felt like an eternity, but less than a day ago, she'd still be Jadzia Idaris, the woman with whom he had fallen in love. Now he wasn't sure who she was, if she would love him, or he could love her.

When Shelar was finished his massage, Bashir headed into a steam room. There was no sign of Dax, but there were plenty of other Trill lounging around on the fragrant wood benches. The Bajoran and the Vulcan were there, too, although now they weren't talking. The Bajoran was lying on her back, eyes closed, and the Vulcan was sitting up straight, eyes also closed, probably meditating. Bashir was always struck by how easy it was for Vulcans to meditate anywhere, no matter what their surroundings. He wished he had that mental discipline now, but the conversations between the other patrons distracted him. It seemed so easy for them. Joining was part of their way of life. He wondered how many here were joined and how it had changed them.

Half an hour in the steam was enough, and Dax still hadn't shown up. Bashir left and changed back into his clothes, heading down to one of the baths' bars for a drink. He was surprised to find Dax inside, sitting at a table with a Trill man about her age, chatting and laughing. She glanced up when he approached their table and grinned brightly at him.

"Jules, there you!" she said as he gained a chair, sitting beside her. She gestured at her companion, a tall, black haired, green eyed man with an equally bright smile. "This is Metian Nen." she said. "Met, this is Julian Bashir." She turned back to Bashir. "Met and I were in the initiate program together. He was just joined a few months ago. My second host knew his first host."

"Catching up on old times?" Bashir asked, deliberately keeping his tone light, shaking Nen's hand.

"Not so old as that," Nen replied. "On the time since we graduated the program."

"Which was such a relief!" Dax exclaimed, then gestured to a waiter who made his way through the tables toward them. She asked him sweetly for another drink, then flashed him a smile when he took her order. Bashir was a bit surprised; before, she had never been much of a flirt.

"That place was a bit demanding," Nen agreed.

"A bit?" Dax asked, shaking her head. "I think all consuming would be a better description!"

Nen grinned again and stood.

"I need to get going," he said. "I'm having a tongo night at my place tomorrow. Kelandrar and Chec are coming over too, and a couple other friends. You two want to join us?"

Dax glanced at Bashir and he shrugged one shoulder, nodding. He could tell she wanted to go, and, although he'd never played tongo, he was a fast learner.

"I'd love to," she replied. "Curzon was an avid tongo player. I may have picked up a hint or two."

Nen flashed them another dashing grin.

"Great," he said, pulling out a small pad from the pack he was carrying. He jotted something down and handed it to Dax. "My address. Around eight."

"See you then," Dax replied and Bashir gave the other man a nod. Nen waved at them and left the bar. "Hungry?" Dax asked. "I am."

"I am, too," Bashir replied and they took a couple of minutes to decide on meals, then placed their orders.

"Have a good massage?" she asked as drinks arrived, one for each of them.

Bashir gave her a smile that wasn't entirely heartfelt.

"As always. I was surprised you didn't come to the steam room."

Dax waved a hand, sipping her drink.

"I ran into Met, so I took the chance to catch up with him. And I don't like steams anyway."

"You always used to," Bashir pointed out.

She looked surprised for a moment, then put her drink down thoughtfully.

"I suppose I did," she admitted, then gave her head a shake. "I mean, Jadzia always did. But Dax doesn't. I– how odd."

"Why doesn't Dax?" Bashir enquired.

Dax thought about this for a moment.

"It was Audrid, I think," she replied. "She had trouble breathing in them and didn't like to be hot."

"So what does that mean for you?" Bashir asked.

"Something I have to sort out, certainly," she said. "My previous hosts, the ones after Audrid never bothered with it, but I love steam rooms. I hope I can overcome her dislike for them. It's something I always enjoyed doing, especially with you."

Bashir was touched so deeply by her last comment that it surprised him. He hadn't realized how much he had been wanting some reassurance from her in regards to their relationship.

"It's something I like doing with you, too," he replied.

Their food came then and Dax ate with more enthusiasm than Bashir had ever seen her do. He smiled into a mouthful of food and she gave him a curious look.

"What?" she asked, covering her mouth with one hand.

"Has your sense of taste improved with being joined, too?" he asked.

She chuckled, swallowing, then taking a sip of her drink.

"I suppose so. Curzon was a big fan of fine food. And drink, too, I might add."

"And women, from what I hear."

Dax grinned at him.

"And women." She shook her head. "What a man."

"Do you understand him better now?"

"I'm beginning to," she replied, nodding. "That doesn't mean I'm going to be his biggest fan."

"I think there would be a long line of women ahead of you," Bashir said dryly.

Dax snorted sarcastically.

"You've got that right. I'd prefer not to follow in those particular footsteps."

"So you aren't going to start chasing after every pretty woman who catches your eye?" Bashir asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Ha!" Dax retorted. "It would serve you right!"

"I don't chase," Bashir pointed out "I just look. Why waste my time? I didn't have to chase the woman I really wanted."

Dax looked down, but Bashir saw the corners of her mouth tug upward. It was amazing to him that she could still retain some shyness with so much experience behind her now. But perhaps she was still adjusting to the extra confidence that must come with the memories of Dax's past hosts. He hoped he'd still be able to make her blush.

They finished their meals and took the transporter back to the park they had been hiking in that morning, then caught a transport back to Dax's parents' house. On the ride home, Bashir was uncharacteristically quiet, watching the scenery whiz past. Dax did the same and he didn't have the heart to interrupt her, nor would he know what to say. He found this whole situation unbelievably confusing; nothing Dax had ever told him had prepared him for this. He felt like he was walking on thin ice, never sure if his next step would lead him to safety or send him crashing down to drown.

He wondered if the comments Shelar and Talan had made would hold true for him. Would he be unable to cope with the change from Jadzia Idaris to Jadzia Dax? The prospect that he could not cast a black pall of his thoughts that he found very difficult to shake.


The remainder of that evening and most of the next was spent with Dax's parents and sisters. Close to seven in the evening, Bashir and Dax wandered down to the town's nearest transporter station and beamed five hundred kilometers to the city in the neighbouring province where Nen lived. They found his apartment easily; it was only a few hundred meters from the transporter station, and they arrived with a group of other Trill about their age, two of whom Dax recognized. They were Kelandrar Manis and Chec Labbean, fellow initiates of Jadzia's. Dax introduced them to Bashir and they were ushered inside by Nen, who introduced the other two: a blond woman named Elina Trec and a man with pale brown hair and eyes to match named Geon Medel.

They took seats at the kitchen table in the center of which was a wheel supporting a bowl. A deck of cards was set in front of Nen's place and he began shuffling them as he explained the rules to Bashir. It was a Ferengi game, it turned out, and the rules were fairly simple, at least they were to the human. Dax passed him a handful of latinum she kept at her parents' for gaming with her friends on Trill. They were each dealt a hand of cards, then went around the table and placed their bids. Once the game was in full swing, the conversation and catching up began. Dax's friends pressed her for news of her joining, then battered Bashir with questions about being in medical school. He learned that Manis and Labbean, the other former initiates, were not joined yet, and that Trec's older brother had been joined two years ago.

"It's good that you're working things out," Trec commented, upping a bid Medel had just made. "My brother was dating a Bajoran when he was joined and they split up right afterwards. But then, Bajoran women aren't the most patient women in the galaxy."

Bashir could only nod since it was his turn to bid. He saw Trec's ante and raised it himself.

"It's hard for any alien. Usually only Trill can handle it," Manis pointed out, considering her cards.

"Now, now, don't frighten him," Dax chided them gently as Bashir's already battered heart sank even further. He glanced around the table and saw the telltale spots on each of their faces and felt more out of place than he ever had, even after learning about his genetic enhancements. He began to wonder if the difficulty non-Trill had lay in the fact that Trill kept reminding them that they had trouble. He was sick of hearing it now, but was afraid, in the back of his mind, that they might be right.

The worst part, for him, was that he couldn't set out to prove them wrong. It wasn't like finding out about the enhancements, when he was able to show to Starfleet Command that he was nothing like Kahn Singh. This depended on Dax, too, and he couldn't make up her mind for her. And she was the one who had changed. She was the one with three hundred years of experience now and could easily start to see him as too young and immature for her.

She was the one who seemed to be slipping away from him day by day as the memories began to add to her experience and her personality. Already he had noticed she was far more flirtatious than she ever had been, trading jokes and laughter with her friends around the table with barely a hint of the shy Jadzia she had been only a few days ago.


Jadzia Dax lay in bed in the middle of the night, gazing at the ceiling which was illuminated a pale blue from the moonlight coming through the window. The window was open, and the drapes pulled aside, so that the cool night breeze wafted into the room. With it came the faint, constant sound of nocturnal insects. A few nocturnal birds called out occasionally, but mostly what Dax heard was Bashir's deep, slow breathing beside her.

In the five days since she had been joined, she had found that she slept much better, which was an immense blessing. Bashir had always been a deep sleeper, but she hadn't been. She had eventually accepted the fact that she would wake up at any disturbance, and she was now left to wonder how she'd ever dealt with that.

She was glad now Bashir was a deep sleeper; she had no desire to wake him as she lay there, in the depths of the night, thinking. It had been a difficult five days. Seeing her family was a joy, of course, it always was. Dax felt a stab of disappointment that the trip to and from Trill took so much time. They only had eight days to actually spend on Dax's home planet, and she wished she could see more of her family as it was.

In way, though, she was grateful they only had three days left here. She herself didn't have fond memories of the time she'd spent in the initiate program, and those memories were heightened with the recent joining. It was also difficult to sort out her feelings about Trill from those of her previous hosts. They all had favorite places and Dax found herself feeling wistful for places she'd never even been. So much of their experience was tied into memories of Trill and she felt that, being in the place in which they had all lived, she wasn't getting the chance to distinguish herself from her past hosts. Earth was currently her home, and Dax was looking forward to getting back, so she could define her life against the background of so many other lives. On Trill, she felt Jadzia Dax may be subsumed by the memories of Dax's previous lives. On Earth, she knew who she was, what her life was, what was hers.

And she was frankly getting tired of hearing about how Trill and non-Trill relationships didn't work out once the Trill partner had been joined. She knew Bashir was sick of it, too. Every time someone mentioned to him – which seemed to be more often than not – she could see him biting his tongue against a retort. Dax found she was much better at reading expressions than she had been before being joined, but Bashir had never really been a closed book to her. She'd known him for too long and knew him too well to miss things like that. It almost felt like everyone was undermining their chances, deliberately or not.

With a sigh, she rolled over onto her side, her back to the window, and closed her eyes. The Kubai would be here in three days and they could go home and sort things out there. She hoped.