Ba'el

By: Ginomo

Based on the TNG episode, "Birthright Part II." While aboard the Enterprise, Worf traveled to a Romulan prison camp and fell for Ba'el, the daughter of the Romulan commander and one of the Klingon prisoners. Years later, the Dominion War brings Ba'el to Deep Space Nine and back into Worf's life.

Chapter 6

"No?"

"No! They made me Supreme Commander of the Ninth Fleet and as such, I cannot spare a single ship right now. Starfleet will have to go to their new friends the Romulans for reinforcements in the badlands."

Worf nodded. He figured General Martok would say that, but he'd told Captain Sisko he would ask nonetheless.

Commander Worf and the General sat in his captain's office, right off the bridge of the Rotarran. The two were doing the thing Martok hated the most, going over the seemingly endless stack of reports and briefings necessary to keep this fragile wartime alliance together.

The two men were quiet for a moment. Martok looked up from his padd at Worf, whose gazed was fixed on his own device, "I have decided not to take it personally that my brother, a man whom I have shed blood with more times than I can count, has taken a new mate without mentioning her to me once."

Worf's eyes snapped up from what he was reading. His hands clenched the padd he'd been holding so tightly that it nearly cracked, "What?"

Martok smirked, "You know what I'm talking about. News on DS9 travels faster than an outbreak of Urodelan Flu. And news about you and a woman, well that's damn near an epidemic."

"There is no news and I have not taken a new mate," Worf replied, his voice didn't hide how clearly annoyed he was at the implication.

"So then the rumors are untrue? There is no beautiful woman living in your quarters with you? You have not been taking a mysterious young lady to Quarks and to the holosuites?"

"You have not been to the station in over a month and yet you heard all this after being docked for one day?" Worf asked skeptically.

"Darok practically fell over himself coming to tell me."

"He gossips like an old woman," Worf growled.

Martok laughed, "His is an old woman."

Worf was quiet for a moment. He knew Martok would eventually find out about Ba'el but he had been dreading it. Worf had no idea where to even begin, there was so much about Ba'el that Martok would never understand. Well, he'd understand he just wouldn't approve.

Finally, Worf spoke up, "What is it that you would like to know?"

Martok paused for a moment, then spoke, "Two years ago, you and I met in a prison camp deep in Dominion space. The enemy drove you hard, every day, just as they had done to me before you came. Every night, you spoke of your par'mach'kai. In all honesty I liked hearing you go on about her, it reminded me of when my love for Sirella was young and new. Your love for her was without question," Martok laughed a little, "It got to the point that I wanted to get out of there just so I could meet this Jadzia Dax, I had to see if a woman as glorious as you described actually existed."

Worf said nothing.

"And when it came time for you to finally marry! I thought I'd heard everything I could about Jadzia, but to my surprise I was wrong."

Worf knew where Martok was going with this, but he remained quiet.

"So, after all of that, imagine my surprise when I hear that you have taken up with someone else and I have not heard a single word about her from you, not even her name."

"Ba'el," Worf finally spoke up, "Her name is Ba'el."

"So she does exist. Is there anything else to her besides a name? Do I need to contact Sirella anytime soon?"

That got a quick response out of Worf, "Sirella? No, please do not." Worf knew there was no way Ba'el would ever be able to stand up to Sirella's scrutiny the way Jadzia had. And those ears she kept so carefully hidden, Worf didn't want to think about what a disaster that would be.

Martok nodded, "Worf you are my brother, not my son. That means you get to listen to my advice, but I will keep it brief. You do not love this woman and you don't need me to tell you that. I have seen you in love and this pales in comparison. The reality is, not every woman that warms our bed need be our wife. And if anyone deserves a little 'warmth' it is you, my friend. But be careful. If you tarry with this Ba'el too long you put both her honor and your own at risk," he paused, letting his words sink in, "Now, let's get back to these damned reports..."

Worf hated to admit it, but he always slept better in his bed on DS9 than he did on the Rotarran. Martok would probably say that's because his back had grown soft over the years, but then admit that he liked it better too. Tonight, it was more than just his soft back. Worf hadn't been able to stop thinking about his conversation with Martok from earlier that day.

Worf wondered if there was any of that blood wine from earlier left in the mess hall. At this time of night, the only people awake were the night watch crew, so he figured he'd be able to slip in without having to deal with anyone. Thankfully, the corridors were empty as Worf walked through them.

Unfortunately, the mess hall was not. One person sat alone at the table in the center of the room, head slightly bowed with a cup of the blood wine Worf was looking for in hand.

He was about to turn around and leave when the lone person looked up, "Commander, forgive me for not standing and saluting," It was Chief Engineer Tavana. She shook her cup a bit, "But I am not sure I can stand."

Worf went over to the table and sat across from her, "What are you doing here so late?"

"I could ask you the same thing," her speech was slurred slightly, she clearly had been here for awhile. She took another drink, "Don't worry, I'm not on duty for another twelve hours."

Of all the times Worf had worked alongside Tavana he'd never seen her as anything other than composed and professional. He enjoyed her firm and calming presence. This woman who sat before him, hair disheveled, eyes drooping and lips wet with blood wine, was like another person.

"Are you alright?" Worf asked.

She smirked, "We Klingons aren't supposed to drink alone like this are we? Drinking is for merriment and celebration, not for drowning in our sorrows," she paused, and looked Worf in the eyes, "Don't worry, there's still three more barrels where this came from," she said as she slid an empty cup towards him.

Worf paused before taking the cup in his hand and dipping it generously in the nearby barrel. The wine burned as it went down. It felt good. Worf finished his first cup quickly before filling it again. They sat there quietly for a moment, drowning in their sorrows together.

Tavana broke the silence, "All that talk about two hearts joined together, beating as one. Spiritual journeys, bonded in this life and the next… yet when they die we are supposed to just forget about them."

Just then Worf remembered. Ortakin, an officer on the Rotarran and Tavana's mate, was killed in a recent battle. Worf had not seen her since it had happened, she took a short leave to see after his affairs and was away the last time Worf was on the Rotarran. It was a dreadful thing to have in common with someone, but at the same time it was oddly comforting.

"Nights are the worst. When all is quiet and there are no tasks to focus on the mind wanders," Worf replied.

"That is when blood wine comes in handy," Tavana said with a laugh, but then quietly asked, "It does get better though, does it not? Surely it did for you after the mission to the Monac Shipyards?" she asked, referring to the glorious send off to StoVoKor that Worf gave Jadzia, a mission she was a part of.

"I do not seek this out as often as I used to," Worf said, as he took another drink, "But there are times that I still do."

"I suppose that I was fortunate. Ortakin died in battle and I was there with him. I even got the honor of using his own batleth to run through the Cardassian that shot him. Then I used it to carve out his neck bones," Tavana reached into her pocket and pulled them out, "Ortakin used to collect the bones from every Cardassian he'd killed. He thought it made him look intimidating. The truth was, Ortakin was quiet and he kept to himself. He and I were opposites but we balanced each other out."

"As were Jadzia and I."

"It's funny how that happens, isn't it? And when they're gone it's like a piece of you went with them."

"We should not be doing this…" Worf said, staring into the bottom of his second empty cup.

"I bet you were planning to drink your pain away in peace, right?"

"I was," he admitted.

"If you're anything like me, it's going to take more than two before that will happen. Have another, and fill mine while you're up."

Worf obliged and as he handed her the filled cup he added, "Many would say that it is dishonorable to continue to mourn someone who has crossed the river of blood. That it can keep them from entering halls of the honored dead."

"Look, I did everything I was supposed to. I avenged his death. I held his lifeless body in my hands and howled until my throat was raw," Worf could hear anger rising in her voice, "So I don't want to hear about how I am dishonoring my husband's memory."

"I have done much worse than this," Worf admitted, "I still love Jadzia as much as I did the day we were married. Yet I have taken up with another woman," saying it aloud was like a weight lifting off his shoulders. The blood wine must really be working, "I want to love Ba'el. She is a great woman that deserves to be loved. But, I do not. I do not and it is not fair to her."

"What are you going to do?"

Worf truly had no idea. So he replied with the only thing he was certain of, "Keep drinking."

Since arriving on DS9 and moving in with Worf, Ba'el had purposely avoiding doing one thing. Sure, she'd been tempted several times but always talked herself out of it. She'd heard the human expression "ignorance is bliss" and was trying to live by it in respect to this. But now, with Worf away on the Rotarran right after his recent melt down over a picture, Ba'el knew she had to do it.

"Computer, display all biographical information for Lieutenant Commander Jadzia Dax."

"Processing. Some information is classified and requires Federation security clearance and as a result will not display."

"Understood. Continue."

Ba'el's stomach was in knots while she waited for the information to load, "It's not like I'm actually meeting her," she admonished herself. The file loaded and Ba'el began reading.

The only picture of Jadzia that Ba'el had seen was the now infamous wedding image. On the screen, Jadzia was wearing her Starfleet uniform, a blue collared version unlike Worf's red. She had her hair pulled back and her arms clasped behind her back. Ba'el studied her for a moment. She really knew very little about this woman, and it didn't take her long to realize that she and Worf's wife had absolutely nothing in common.

Jadzia Dax was accomplished in pretty much anything Ba'el could think of. She was a brilliant scientist; there were more awards and distinctions here than Ba'el could count and in subjects that she could barely pronounce. She was trained in numerous forms of combat and martial arts. She was a level 5 (whatever that meant) pilot and battle command officer.

Ba'el kept scrolling through a long list of mission summaries, field commendations and service distinctions. Perhaps this was how all Starfleet personnel files read, but Ba'el couldn't help but picture this perfect woman who she would never be able to live up to.

Then she got to the personal section, which was noticeably brief. Jadzia was born on the planet Trill, had one sibling, and was married to Lt. Commander Worf in early 2374. They had no children. She died at the end of 2374, just 7 months after they were married. The Dax symbiont was then transferred to a new host, Ezri Dax, after Jadzia's death.

Wait, what?

Ba'el read that last part three times Symbiont? Host? What did that mean? She clicked on the word symbiont and read the description out loud, "A symbiont is a sentient life form from the planet Trill. It exists in an organic relationship with its humanoid host, and upon the host's death is transferred to a new one. The average symbiont can live over 500 years."

She then moved onto host, "A Trill host is the humanoid component of the symbiotic relationship. The symbiont becomes an integral part of the host's existence, contributing thoughts, experiences, personality," she paused and tried to swallow the lump in her throat, "memories and emotions."

Ba'el was stunned. What did this mean? Suddenly, she felt naive and ignorant. How could she have missed this, how had she not made the connection between the two? She had no idea that Ezri, her only other friend in this whole place, was actually Worf's wife. Did he know? Why did neither of them ever say anything?

It didn't take long for her embarassment to turn to frustration. She needed answers, and there was only one person who could give them to her.

Ezri moved the plant in her office for the third time today. She had never been this indecisive before being joined. It was as if she had eight other people constantly giving her their opinion whenever she did something. She took a few steps back from where it say, tilted her head, frowned, and moved it back to where it had been in the first place.

Before she could pick it up to move it again, her door opened.

"Ba'el? This is a surprise!" Ezri said with a smile, "What can I do for you?"

"Are you busy right now? I'd like to speak with you."

Ezri could sense some trepidation in Ba'el's voice; something was wrong, "Please have a seat," Ezri motioned to a chair that she'd moved six times already. Ba'el sat, perched on the edge of the seat and she was wringing her hands nervously, "What's going on?"

"I grew up in a very sheltered environment. There is a lot that I don't know but I am learning more every day," she began hesitantly. After a deep breath for courage, she looked Ezri right in the eye, "I need you to explain to me how you're related to Jadzia Dax."

Ezri drew in a sharp breath. This was bound to happen, and Ezri knew the longer she kept it from her, the worse it would be when she did find out. Part of her had hoped that Worf would have told Ba'el, but she knew Worf well enough to know that wasn't going to happen.

Ezri spoke as calmly as she could, "I am a joined Trill, as was Jadzia. Dax is the name of the symbiont that we share. She was Dax's eighth host, and I am the ninth."

"What does this symbiont do?"

"It's complicated. The host and the symbiont have a combined intelligence. I have access to all its memories and experiences and it influences who I am. I have not had the Dax symbiont for very long, though, and I'm still learning how to integrate it into my personality."

"So you and Jadzia are not the same person then?"

"No, we are not."

"But you have all her memories?"

"Yes, I do."

Ba'el frowned, "What is a person if not a collection of their memories?"

Ezri laughed nervously, "I have been wrestling with that ever since I was joined."

She was quiet for a moment, "Does Worf know?"

"Oh, he knows."

"I feel like such a fool, Ba'el said as she shook her head, "How could I ever think Worf would want me when he had you right here?"

"Oh no, it's not like that at all. He and I are not involved," Ezri's voice trailed off, "Quite honestly, we don't even really speak to one another."

Ba'el could hear the change in Ezri's tone, "That bothers you, doesn't it? Not being involved with him?"

"I," Ezri paused, trying to find the right words. No one had ever really asked her these questions. She wanted to be honest but she didn't want to upset Ba'el more than she already was, "I wish we were friends. Jadzia and Worf were friends before they became romantically involved and I really miss that," Ezri had never admitted that to anyone, not even herself. But it was true.

"Why have you been helping me? Every since I got to the station you have given me advice on how to deal with him. Why?"

"Because I want him to be happy," Ezri answered without hesitation.

"He still loves her, you know."

Ezri lowered her eyes, "I figured as much."

"I read her personnel report today and it's easy to understand why. She was beautiful, brilliant and accomplished in every way. I don't see how I could ever live up to her. "

"Believe me, I know exactly how you feel. Jadzia casts a very big shadow," Ezri gave a small, ironic laugh, "She was glorious."

The two women sat quietly for a moment, processing the unique situation they'd found themselves in. Benjamin had been right, by choosing to stay on DS9, Ezri would have to watch Worf move on with his life. She hadn't prepared herself for what that would feel like.

Ezri broke the silence, "I need to apologize for keeping this from you. I just didn't know how to approach it. It's a very complex situation that I don't have completely figured out myself."

"It seems like living here near one another, yet not being together would be torture," Ba'el replied.

"It's sometimes hard to understand, but there is a difference between having memories of loving someone and being in love with them."

Ba'el thought about that for a moment, "That is quite honestly the first thing that's made sense to me in a long time."

Worf prided himself in being decisive. He drew upon the convictions and beliefs that both his life in Starfleet and his Klingon ideals taught him. It was rare that he couldn't find the direction he needed in either one of those.

But as he walked back to his quarters on Deep Space Nine at the conclusion of his mission on the Rotarran, he felt anxious and unsure. Ba'el would no doubt be waiting for him. They needed to address what happened before he left and how they would proceed. In a way, Worf felt responsible for her. He went to Carraya IV to rescue the Klingon survivors, but she stayed behind. Now she was here, wanting the life with him that he promised her all those years ago.

The door slid open and Worf's eyes were immediately drawn to the pack sitting on the floor next to the couch. It was Ba'el's satchel, the only possession she had with her when she came to find him on DS9. He looked around, but she was nowhere in sight.

"Ba'el?"

At the sound of his voice, she emerged from the bedroom, "Worf. I hoped you were coming home today."

He didn't respond.

"Come, sit with me please."

Ba'el sat on the couch, her belongings at her feet, and Worf sat next to her. She took his hand in hers and looked at it for a moment. Ba'el summoned all the courage she had and said, "It's time for me to go," in one quick breath.

"Go? You are leaving?"

"Worf, when you came to Carraya, I had never met anyone like you. You were this confident, strong, intriguing outsider who completely changed everything and taught us all things we never knew. Being around you was exciting and I fell in love with that. And then I spent six years building you up in my mind to almost mythic proportions.

"I suppose the reality of who I am has not met those expectations."

"It's not fair for me to expect you to live up to some fantasy that I created, especially when your life went down a different path."

"I am sorry. It has never been my intention to hurt you."

"You don't have apologize," she said with a smile, "And I know you probably would have let us go on instead of just admitting this isn't working so you wouldn't have to hurt my feelings."

Worf couldn't argue with that, "Where will you go?"

"Qo'noS."

"The Klingon Homeworld? Are you sure that is a good idea?"

She nodded, "Toq's family lives there, and I am going to stay with them for awhile. I need to take some time to figure out who I am and what I want in life," Ba'el reached up and touched his face, "And you need to more time to heal."

Worf nodded in agreement, he couldn't argue with that either.

"I wanted to make things right for you, I thought that that if I loved you enough you would be free from the pain of losing your wife. I'm sorry that I wasn't able to do that for you."

"Now it is you that has nothing to apologize for. Do not worry about me, I am dealing with that has happened in my own way. You deserve to put yourself first for a change."

She smiled.

Worf motioned to her pack on the floor, "When are you leaving?"

"I've booked passage on a transport vessel to Bajor, it leaves tonight. From there I will make my way to Qo'noS."

"No," Worf shook his head, "Please allow me to take you."

"I can't ask you to do that, Worf."

"You did not ask, I am insisting. A runabout can have us there in a fraction of the time."

Ba'el nodded, "Thank you. For everything."

Worf took Ba'el to the Klingon Homeworld and used the opportunity to conduct some business at the Federation consulate as well. He still had extreme reservations about her living on Qo'noS, but Toq's wife was warm and welcoming and Ba'el was excited, so he kept his fears to himself. When they parted company, they both promised to keep in touch and see each other whenever they could. Both knew that would probably never happen.

A few days later Worf returned to a home once again empty. He took off his baldric and draped it over the chair like always. Next, he headed to the bedroom and took out his wedding picture. Worf held the frame in his hands and started at it a long time. His fingers lightly touched the image and for a brief moment it was as if he could feel Jadzia's skin against his. The moment passed and carefully Worf placed the picture back on his bedside table.

~finis

March 16, 2016