"Let's do this," a voice rang out. It was Dr. Bashir's.
"We should wait for your surgical staff," said another. Worf's.
"You mean the dead ones?" Dr. Bashir asked, "She is waking up. We need to do this quickly."
Jadzia opened her eyes. She saw a blue ceiling.
"I'll open her up, you just need to pull the clamp out, okay."
"Okay," Worf agreed.
Jadzia felt a pain in her side, and then a tug, and then the pain subsided.
"See, that wasn't hard at all," Dr. Bashir stated.
Where am I? she wondered. She remembered Chief O'Brien running the Defiant. Had she been hurt? Were the Jem'Hadar still attacking the ship? But then why was Worf here?
"You've had a bad bleed," Dr. Bashir said, "Try to stay still."
"Is the ship okay?" she asked.
"Yes, the Chief managed to get us all out of harm's way. You're back on the station."
So that was why the ceiling was different than when Dr. Bashir had put her down. Why had he put her down in the first place? Suddenly, everything flooded back. Then, it struck her that something was horribly wrong. No one seemed pleased. No one was shoving a crying bundle with fangs in her face.
"What happened?" she asked.
They ignored her, Dr. Bashir scanning her with his tricorder and Worf standing quietly by her side.
"You have to tell me what happened to the baby," she said frantically, reaching up to grab Dr. Bashir's arm. Her arm felt heavy.
They looked uneasy. She started to panic.
"You have to tell me," she insisted, "You have to! He's ..." she stumbled for a few seconds, working up courage to say the word, "dead, isn't he?!"
They didn't contradict her.
"He was badly deformed, he passed away last night," Dr. Bashir said finally, "I'm sorry, Jadzia."
"Why didn't you wake me up?" she demanded, deranged, before she burst into tears. Worf walked over to her and held her hand.
"We can have another one," he said gently, after her tears had subsided. She nodded slightly, and started sobbing again.
"What was wrong with him?" Jadzia asked eventually.
"Dr. Bashir did not know. He said it might have been genetic."
Or it might not have, Jadzia thought, acidly.
"Regardless, the doctor said his heart could not possibly support his body," Worf paused uncomfortably, "so I sent him honourably into the afterlife."
Jadzia gasped. She looked up at Worf, and she could see the horror still etched on his face.
"I know it is against our laws, but he was in so much pain and the doctor said that if when he left the room I wanted to ..."
Jadzia grabbed Worf's hand and held it tight.
*****
Three days later, Jadzia didn't want to leave the infirmary. She wasn't allowing visitors. She just wanted everyone to go away.
She didn't want people's sympathy. It was all her fault. Might have been genetic? He might be able to fool Worf, but Jadzia knew the doctor would have been sure if the problems were genetic. It was his own handiwork. He would have been working obsessively to figure the problem out if he had the slightest suspicion it was genetic.
Jadzia made bargains with herself. She would check for pregnancy every day. She would take every gram of medication the doctor gave her and then some. She would do every little thing she could think of to keep from harming the next one.
But deep down, she knew it was useless. It was too late. There was nothing she could do that would make up for the mistakes she had made.
She had pulled the surveillance tapes for the night they had brought her in. Both Dr. Bashir and Worf were panicking slightly. The stasis unit looked damaged. When they pulled her out, she was in a pool of blood. They rushed her into surgery, and the doctor worked for several hours.
After she was stable, Worf and Dr. Bashir conferred for a long time. An infant was brought out of stasis, a grotesque body with no limbs that bulged strangely into a head. It was put into an incubator. Dr. Bashir left.
Looking both devastated and revolted, Worf pulled out his sword. He paused. Was he hesitating, or trying to find a neck? Jadzia couldn't tell. Regardless, after a few seconds, the sword went down and there was blood. Worf stormed out, and Dr. Bashir came back in. He pushed the entire incubator into the disposal unit with a bitter look on his face.
Afterwards, Jazia wished she had never watched it. She quickly returned to her cot and pulled the sheets above her head, crying.
Later, she heard Dr. Bashir come in.
"You know you're free to go whenever you want," he said gently. He had said the same thing the day before.
"I just can't, Julian," she replied despondently.
"I brought you a visitor," he continued.
"I don't want—," she started, but then she saw the door open slightly.
Kang.
He looked so much like his father, his stoic face as he stood by the door. He stood there for a minute, not moving, not revealing anything. Then he smiled, and came running into her open arms.