Back and better. :D I'd gone through a recent personal loss - not tragic like dying, however - and also published my first Kim Possible short, with another on the way. But that was not all; I've got more interesting mysteries on the way with this new chapter in which Jadzia adjusts to life on Qo'noS while still trying to figure Worf out. As it turns out, he's a somewhat doctor, but the truth will be revealed much later. ;D Twists and turns like I said when we started.

Chapter Six

So I Could Find My Way

Three weeks went on, and my new life adjusted very interestingly - and painfully - since the targ attack and the revelation Worf was a doctor, and with a human mother. He never mentioned his father, but I won't forget he and his parents were not close. He'd said his history was sensitive, like it was something no one else needed to know, for what reasons?

Like I said before, more questions than answers. As humans said, curiosity killed the cat.

There are many races in the galaxy with more natural curiosity than others, but Trills were a blend of cautious and intrigued. My people are one of the most scientific and biologically driven species in existence. Which was one reason I was driven to the love of science because it was all so fascinating and complicated - but my new challenge came with living with a Klingon man with a brooding attitude and a fantastic knowledge of medicine and surgery, as well as uncovering his mysterious history.

There was a way, but it would be classified as an invasion of privacy, and it certainly would not be easy to access without the occupant's permission...

Right after Worf treated my leg, he had suddenly made the decision to allow me to be his "lab assistant", when he made trips to wounded Klingons brought back home from battle. Also, following the healing, I'd not been able to stop thinking about Worf's hands as he tended to my wound. Searing, soft and rough in one - why couldn't I just forget it? Or should I say, it won't let me go?

I hoped to distract myself with aiding in medical attention, given I took Basic First Aid but wasn't one hundred percent experienced as he was; my hands were good with machinery and calculations, but to actually cut a body open or even remove a body part? I thought I would go queasy, but there were a lot of things Klingon that were not for the faint-hearted. Ziranne would have passed out before I would.

Speaking of which, I had not spoken to anyone in my family since I had been here. I was allowed to communicate from the Martok House, but I could not find any time. My gut clenched as I wondered how my baby sister was doing out of the others. Knowing her flighty personality, she must be hunting for a new man in her life. Something I never gave myself time for.

I was submerged deep in Klingon history today. When I sat down, I found ancient textbooks regarding family histories. One certain topic regarded the story about the assassination of Emperor Reclaw of the Second Dynasty. I intended to clear up what plagued my mind for so long that enough was enough. I had to know if it was really true about Sirella descending from this daughter of a murdered Klingon ruler.

Reclaw's family "left low for the next ten years"? I doubted it very much one hundred and ten percent now.

I had finished reading the story - and oh, man, was I hell-bent on getting more articles on this - when I was once again visited by a certain odd companion I shared the same roof with, if only temporarily. "Is this regarding...Sirella?" Worf asked quietly, leaning over and seeing where I was at. "She will be most displeased once she learns you've...pieced it together."

I raised an eyebrow. "What is it?" He seemed to know more, seemed to have the answers I was looking for. I was ecstatic.

He cleared his throat, continuing to speak low in case anyone - notably the lady herself - heard him. "She's not really of noble blood, at least lineage wise, Jadzia. The woman she thinks of as her...maternal grandmother, twenty-third in line, wasn't really named Shenara, daughter of Emperor Reclaw. Ten years after his family was executed not long after he, Klingons from lesser origins were brought in to replace the democracy established - and they were given the titles and names of the royal family as to keep alive the illusion that the line was never broken."

I almost dropped the book before my hands quickly found their strength to keep it together and closed it, putting it back with its companions. I was shocked very much; so, my suspicions were right. Sirella claimed to have imperial blood, but it had no truth or fact. All Klingons cared about was telling the story without further proof, for their own means and what they thought was best for the people. Sirella was one of them. "What was her ancestor's...real name?" I asked Worf, and he lowered his gaze.

"Karana, who was merely a concubine who lived outside the Imperial Palace, near the stables."

"Oh, yes!" I almost forgot who and where I was, since I now knew the truth and could not help myself. Sirella was actually the great-granddaughter of a Klingon harlot in the streets; to see her rage would be priceless, but Worf insisted I keep it to myself lest I wanted her wrath. "Fine. But to know this makes it even better that she is no better than your mother," I told him. I didn't know his mother, but I knew good and well that Sirella was the bully of them all because she was so proud of herself. How anyone like General Martok could tolerate such a woman was beyond me. But did it matter? I had gotten everything I needed, and I could not have thanked Worf enough.

"What was your purpose in this?" he asked suspiciously, but I smiled at him.

"Why do you think? She's a shrew and deserves a smackdown. You don't deserve the treatment she gives you or anyone else around her, so if I may when the time comes, I'll be the one to ultimately humiliate her."

~o~

Unfortunately, I could not confront Sirella about this soon, nor did I know how to in order to make the circumstances the right time, and it was also because Worf had to insist I not do such a thing. "It's not...honorable to humiliate a great lady about her ancestral roots without logical purpose," he'd said, which infuriated me.

Honorable? It wasn't honorable to pass off noble roots when an ancestor was far from it. But who cared, right? It was only all about storytelling, no basis in the timelines or the archeological examination. Nevertheless, I exhaled sharply and begrudgingly promised Worf I wouldn't do anything extreme...but that did not mean I would not carry out my plan against Sirella.

Now I had the chance to speak to Curzon; one of Sirella's maidservants had approached me and said that Dax was in orbit so he could find the time to speak to me. He was currently over Secarus IV with his companions, but the Albino was GONE. "Gone, how?" I asked worriedly, and he was even more so.

"Correction: he is still on Secarus IV, but not in his compound. He is leading us on a hunt, but we're not giving up. He's not leaving the planet or even the system, I can guarantee you that."

I bowed my head. "I hope you do find him, Curzon."

"So do I." He sighed. "He knew we would catch on someday, and he's leading us on for now, for however longer needed. I'm terribly sorry to tell you this, Ensign."

That meant after only three weeks, I was stuck here on Qo'noS. Curzon noticed my reaction. "I detect disappointment in you," he noted.

"No, nothing is wrong here with the Klingons," I assured him, sitting straighter. "It's been...interesting." Interesting because of the history - and one of them being my leverage on Sirella - and being in Worf's company as well as his mysterious, bad attitude air. But beneath that, I saw, was a heart who cared. I knew that because of being his sometimes assistant when he aided the injured and dying. But there was still the issue of me actually learning to fight like a Klingon. Sirella continued to taunt me that I was weak, but Worf was always there for me.

I don't recall any other man in my life who weren't my father and uncle defending my honor, or Curzon Dax for that matter. But while I looked at Curzon as a mentor, Worf was actually beginning to be something along the lines of a...friend.

He never said so, but I could tell in his eyes that he liked me as well, even if he was covering it well like any man would.

And Curzon's interest was piqued. "Care to elaborate, my dear?"

"Well, Sirella isn't exactly the most..." I struggled around my words. "...pleasant woman to be around, Curzon. She might have helped me some, but we barely see each other. She sees me as feeble, that just because I am your student, I won't match up to you," I confessed.

"Hmm." He raised his hand to his chin and rubbed it thoughtfully. "Precisely something I would have said at the right time. But even then, words like that are made for a test," he told me.

Now I was baffled, but my inner self said it was true. I was avoiding Sirella because I could not face her, and Worf had told me not to engage her outright, for it would end in disaster - but in the end, it was all me. I won't let it overtake me, but I was a coward. I enjoyed history and science, but in the end, I wasn't a true fighter...

...unless I COULD break it down, prove Sirella wrong. My body jerked backwards at the thought. "You're right!" I almost raised my voice, but lowered it quickly. I need to work on this habit more. "I should start being aggressive. I should stand up, pick up a kar'takin, a bat'leth, and all other weaponry so I can become a warrior besides a know-it-all science girl," I declared, standing up and baring my teeth in my speech, to which he returned with a toothy grin of his own.

"That's my girl, Jadzia. And I was starting to lose hope in you." His eyes twinkled, making me blush. But then the moment changed in a flash. "I have the slightest feeling Sirella is not the only issue."

My mind was flashing. I had no idea if I should lie to him and say no, but to lie to the great man in front of me via transmission was wrong, so I confessed. "A few weeks ago, I had a...dream."

"A dream?" He laughed harshly. "This is the first I ever hear from you."

In explicit detail from beginning to end, I told him how I was at the top of the universe on an unidentified mountain, and the great Kahless himself spoke to me from the heavens, telling me without further understanding that I was destined for greatness - and Worf had a part to play in my unknown path. When I finished, he hummed again as he considered this, obviously as puzzled but intrigued as I was. "Worf - a fascinating character. Would you care to tell me more about him?" His lingering grin was that of an adolescent craving for more details that I suddenly wished I hadn't mentioned any of my time with the odd Klingon doctor.

"It seems you have an interesting case," he said when I finished. I gasped at him.

"A case of what?"

"Need I explain? Little is known about Worf in the records of Qo'noS, or anywhere in the Federation, besides the knowledge that he is one of the best Klingon physicians in the galaxy. Everyone knows he is a distant relative of General Martok. I've known all along, given I served with Martok for some time before I met you. Worf is a stranger amongst his people because his mother is a human, but his familial relations are most strained, therefore he hides out amongst his other half. Being marked because of your origins puts a strain on your psyche very much, my dear."

I closed my eyes and nodded. Worf was an outcast, having difficulty living because of the whispers about him. It dawned on me that he never had friends, never had a lady to love, yet had a passion for his work...and my heart broke at once. I felt tears prick the corners of my eyes as I realized I could also do more than just help him.

And that was not all: Curzon was telling me that I was the first one to make myself realize that I could help Worf find his way as he would help me.

~o~

The next day, I could not delay the beginning of the path to glory any longer. After breakfast in the kitchen and enjoying the company of the cooks, I took it upon myself to make way for the armory which was downstairs below the first floor. There was even a training area, which made it even better. Far from above, away from Sirella's prying eyes and her snide remarks.

I stepped down the stairs, in my tank and elastic trousers, my hair held back as always, and I was surging with fire in my veins. I was determined more than ever. I was also barefoot, which would make my footing that much easier.

Shivering in my bared arms and my feet, I gazed around myself and tried to imagine if there were any hidden Klingons waiting for me. My spine tingled. I don't know anymore if I am nervous, but I had taken several steps too far to come here. Too late to turn back now.

I stood before the collection illuminated by overhead lighting, and held in my gasps as I could no longer be surprised if I was going to familiarize myself with Klingon martial arts. There was one impressive piece of metal that caught my eye right away - right before my very eyes, standing out from the rest. The bat'leth, the most popularly used. Crescent-shaped, measured to be about one hundred and sixteen centimeters long, and weighing at least five-point-three kilograms. The hand grip was five centimeters in diameter, which was good enough for me.

When I held it in both hands, holding it up to measure it on my arms, I exhaled when the powerful weight balanced nicely, the composite baakonite shining bright in my eyes.

"Remember the first bat'leth that Kahless himself forged in the ninth century?" I whirled around and found myself face-to-face with the one I began to welcome as pleasant in my life on this planet. Worf descended the stairs until he stopped at the bottom. "Forged by his own hands, which he used to remove a piece of his hair and tossed it into the Kri'stak volcano pit, and molded it into a marvelous blade after he recovered it from the fire and placed it into the purifying water of the Lake of Lusor."

"To which he used this great weapon to defeat the monstrous Molor," I recited from the story, holding it before my body to show him I wasn't just a fragile alien woman. I smirked to one corner of my mouth. None of this was actually written in text form, but instead passed orally from generation to generation since. "And the sword was conquered after his death but was lost since."

He stood in front of me, his eyes roaming up and down over me. I was impressed with how...passionate he got when we discussed Klingon history. And now he was here to supervise the training Sirella would have given me had we not been on bad terms. He walked past me, but I kept my guard and weapon raised. Never lower your guard even when your opponent walks past you.

Worf grabbed another bat'leth and raised it in the same stance, speaking something in Klingon that I didn't understand much, but I knew he was telling me he was ready when I was. I nodded and answered yes in Klingonese, and I was more than ready when I threw myself forward, screaming like a wild animal and bringing the bat'leth down against his.

The sharp slicing of steel against steel coupled with our grunts and growls mixed together were the only sounds in the air as we fought like our lives depended on it. Fire burned in my flesh and blood, my muscles and nerves - and every part of my body in and out, my skin wet with perspiration.

However, as I found myself looking into Worf's eyes - making eye contact with your enemy was always accidental or meant to be as you wanted to see the life leave your opponent - I thought I saw something more than just concern, like he was afraid of hurting me in the end.

I stopped there when the realization hit me with blunt force as one blade mark struck me to my upper left arm, stunning me and sending me down, making me lose my weapon to the floor. I collapsed, holding my bleeding appendage and looking up at my winning opponent. I knew I would not win as this was only the first time, but I had a good reason to feel good about myself - and how fluid I felt.

Worf was scared of hurting me. And now his reaction proved it.

"Jadzia!" He dropped his bat'leth and fell to my side, taking my arm into his hands and inspecting. "We'll pick up tomorrow, but right now, I need to inspect this and require you rest your strength."

I grunted and stood up as my legs still had strength. Never disagree with the doctor. I remember when I was a child, I was scared of them. I still feel like that sometimes, but with Worf, I felt safe. "Thanks for the lesson," I told him as I hung my blade back on the racks. He followed suit after me, nodding bluntly.

"I should have gone easy on you." Guilt was clear in his voice, and he bowed his head. "This is why I try not to engage in too many activities like this - or any kind of excitement, no matter Martok bringing me along for his many victory celebrations with his comrades."

My hair was coming undone that I decided letting it down was logical. My mane ran over my damp shoulders, covering my ears; his eyes glimmered when he looked up at me. He was not concerned for me just because he was my physician and...friend. He actually cared about me. I'd known him for almost a month, but somehow I felt like I had known him forever. My heart was beating because I still had so much energy - but it was also because of him. He was so restrained I couldn't believe it. I enjoyed fun once in a while - Curzon himself even said it was necessary every now and then instead of all work - and the Klingons were boisterous in their victory celebrations, but not this one.

"Worf," I said softly, reaching out to him with my uninjured arm, touching his shoulder, to which he stiffened, "there are some things in life that you can't control. Something tells me that you don't want to hurt...someone you care about." How else could it be? Even if he didn't have someone to really love him that he didn't want to hurt because of his nature, or if somehow he lived a strict home life before he was "exiled" to Qo'noS...

He didn't answer me, just continued to look into my eyes as I continued to look into his. He was a lost soul I was working to help up even if he didn't ask for it, and he was helping me find my own way. But his words and his demeanor were dismissive as ever. He pulled away from my touch.

"Jadzia, you ought to stop this at once. You will never understand me, and I can't let myself become attached to anything in life besides my work - or anyone, so I cannot lose control and hurt them."

A good dream gone just like that. I don't know if I was crying or not, but my lips quivered with a pain that did not match the one in my bleeding forearm. The blood ran in a river down my bare skin, dripping onto the floor in a single, silent red drop.

Inspired by "Let He Who is Without Sin", it's touching when Worf finally opens up to Jadzia about his youth and uncontrollable behavior. Things have been slightly changed, but his fear of losing control is still present. :) Now it's up to the lady herself to get him to come out of his shell.

Thanks to the research I did on the bat'leth and Kahless.