RENDEZ-VOUS ON DS9
DANIELLE FRANCES DUCREST

Disclaimer: Highlander characters/concepts belong to Rysher Entertainment, Gaumont Télèvision, and Davis/Panzer Productions. Star Trek: Deep Space Nine and its characters/concepts belong to Paramount Pictures. Characters and concepts from Buffy, the Vampire Slayer belong to Joss Whedon, Marti Noxon, UPN, Twentieth Century Fox Television, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, and Mutant Enemy. Any copyright infringements were not intended. This story was written for entertainment and not for profit.

Spoilers: Spoilers are for the DS9 episode "Dr. Bashir, I Presume" and the DS9 novel The Lives of Dax by several authors as well as minor spoilers for "An Immortal Life: The Future to Come: Deep Space Eight."

Timing: This takes place prior to the events in "Deep Space Eight." For Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, this story takes place in late season seven.

Summary: On his way to his new posting at Deep Space Eight, Methos stops at DS9 to visit on an old friend by the name of Dax, only to discover that Dax's friend, Dr. Bashir, is a Pre-Immortal…

Julian Bashir stared out the window at the space beyond. He was in his quarters on Deep Space Nine, a space station located in the Bajoran solar system. The station was constantly spinning maintain, not only the gravity, but also to guarantee that the station stayed in the same exact location - right next to the wormhole that led into the Gamma Quadrant. He stared out at the stars beyond the force field. Because of his genetic enhanced eyesight, he knew that, from looking over charts in the past, that the stars he could see now belonged to many systems, but none of them were Earth's sun. No, Earth's solar system was in the opposite direction. Julian was facing the direction where the wormhole was located. He didn’t expect to see it open. Ever since the war began, only Dominion ships ever came through the wormhole, and as far as the doctor knew, there were no intelligence reports about impending attacks on Deep Space Nine.

Julian was thinking of his parents. His father had just gotten out of prison. Richard Bashir had been sentenced to two years in a minimum-security prison as punishment for the illegal genetic enhancements Julian had received as a child. Julian hadn't seen either of his parents in almost two years. He'd visited his father once while he was in prison before the war had started. Since then, it had been impossible to leave the station. As the Commanding Medical Officer aboard both the station and the Defiant, Julian's presence was constantly needed. He needed to write them.

The other thing on his mind, the one that was really getting him down, wasn't as far away as Earth. A doctor - Lieutenant, junior grade, by rank - named Nathaniel Adams was the reason for his depression. He was waiting for the starship that would take him to Deep Space Eight, where Dr. Adams would become the new CMO. As a fellow doctor, Julian enjoyed his company - with Garak away on Cardassia, fighting for his people's freedom from the Dominion, he'd missed having someone to talk to during lunch. He and Dr. Adams had spent at least three hours than morning discussing all sorts of medical experiments and theories in DS9's infirmary. Only when they'd gone to the Replimat for Lunch, they'd run into Ezri Dax. Julian was always glad to see Ezri; he was falling in love with her, he knew, but he had no idea what to do about it.

It turned out that Ezri and Dr. Adams were old friends - very old, very close friends. Julian couldn't help feeling a little jealous. The two of them were probably still in the Replimat, catching up on old times. Meanwhile, he stood in his room staring out the window, wondering why he felt so jealous for a friend and only a friend of Ezri's. He also wondered why the hell he couldn't muster up enough courage to ask Ezri out.

Ezri stared, amused, at the man sitting across from her. He stared back at her with his mouth open, shaking his head back and forth. Part of her was amazed that she'd managed to make him, the prince of languages, speechless. Another part of her wished she had a camera. "You're doing a very good impression of a ginzra fish common in Trill's southern oceans," she told him. "You should try getting an act in a talent show."

The man currently going by the persona of Dr. Nathaniel Adams glared back at her. "And you are as charming as the last time I saw you. Although I don't see any other resemblance."

Ezri shrugged and took a sip of her ractijino. "I've had a lot of hosts since Emony…" She smiled, trying not to laugh, "…Nate."

He mock-glared at her.

She continued, "That was over two centuries ago, anyway. I think," she added, unsure of exactly how many years had passed. "I've had five hosts since."

"Five? In the span of two mortal lifetimes?"

"Tobin was Dax's host for only a few months," she told him. "And there was Joran, and, well, he didn't stay Joined for that long, either. Curzon died of old age, but Jadzia, my last host, was killed less than a year ago." Even as she said the words, she could see their deaths clearly in her mind - Torias' last thoughts before the shuttle fell apart around him, right before he was beamed away; Joran clinging to the hope that Dax would remember him as he lay on the operation table, dying; and, last but not least, came Jadzia's memories. Ezri remembered Dukat's eyes flashing red before Jadzia was enveloped in a blanket of red energy, a blanket that squeezed the life out of her as it lifted her off the ground. Then, suddenly, it released her, and she was falling…

Ezri took a deep breath, forcing herself to concentrate on the present. She smiled, embarrassed. "Ezri hasn't had the symbiont for that long. It's all very confusing still. I keep getting swept up in their memories." She changed the subject. "So, you're back in Starfleet, huh? The last time I saw you, you were a fry cook."

"What-don't think I'm a very convincing doctor?" Adams asked, his green eyes dancing.

"How should I know? You Immortals are so secretive, I have no idea what you can do. For all I know, you even replicated all of the meals you made for Emony's gymnastics team and just pretended to cook them yourself."

"For all you know, you could be right," he agreed.

Ezri rolled her eyes.

Dr. Adams, whom she had once known as Adam Smith the fry cook, was a member of a race of beings that called themselves Immortals. They lived forever, and almost nothing could kill them. A few hundred years ago, the something that could kill them had been limited to beheading. Now, being vaporized by a phaser set to kill worked just as well. Adams' real name was Methos. He was the oldest of his kind still alive, and he was the only Immortal Dax knew. Back when she was Emony Dax, she and Methos had been very close friends, but not lovers. Their friendship was as close as the one Dax shared with Captain Benjamin Sisko, and Ezri was relieved that, five lifetimes later, their friendship was still strong.

"I didn't realize you had any medical knowledge," she said. "Although, considering your age, I guess I shouldn't be so surprised."

"And I never would have thought you would become a counselor, Ezri Dax," Methos told her, "much less serving in Starfleet."

"Things change."

"Indeed they do."

They spent the next half-hour catching up on old times. Dax told him all sorts of things about Audrid, Torias, Curzon, Jadzia, and finally Ezri.

She skipped over Joran as much as possible. She explained, "He was a murderer. I don't like to think about him much."

"Oh, Dax," Methos said, genuinely sympathetic. He took her hand in his. "I remember that you cherished life. Joran never should have been Joined with you."

"He was all right before he was Joined," she said, remembering. "It was the Joining itself that made him, well, go insane. That happens sometimes."

Methos told her a bit here and there about what he'd been up to. Being typical Methos, he wouldn't elaborate too much on his activities, but Ezri was able to piece together a rough timeline. After Emony and Adam Smith had parted ways, Methos had become Harper Freeman, a trader. Fifty years later, he changed his identity again and became Bern Corta, a hotel manager on Risa. "I just wanted to relax for a century or so," he told Ezri, grinning. After wandering from one part of the planet to the other for the latter half of the twenty-third and the first half of the twenty-fourth centuries, Methos made the decision to join Starfleet.

"About Dr. Bashir," Methos began, abruptly changing the subject.

"What about him?" Ezri asked.

"You might want to keep an eye on him, for me," he said. "He's going to become not-so-mortal one of these days."

Ezri stopped eating and just stared at him, shocked. "You mean he's-" she glanced around, hoping no one was in hearing range. She whispered, "-Pre-Immortal?"

"Yep."

"But I've met his parents," Ezri blurted. "Well, Jadzia did. I thought all Immortals were foundlings?"

"They are. They were most likely his adopted parents. Did he look anything like them?"

Ezri paused, recalling her memory of Richard and Imshar Bashir. Methos was right; Julian didn't resemble either of them. She was still reluctant to accept that Julian would be Immortal some day. It was a shocking thought.

"Are you going to tell him?" she asked Methos.

"Not until he dies and comes back to life. Which is why I want you to keep me informed about him."

"I never thought you were the type to take in young Immortals, Dr. Adams," she said. "You must be getting soft."

"Hardly not."

Ezri raised any eyebrow. "Of course."

She would have gone on, but suddenly, someone was shouting. Ezri glanced behind her old friend to see a Golian male race into the Replimat. She watched the panting alien bump into a Bajoran civilian, knocking the Bajoran woman's food to the floor.

Odo entered the Replimat, apparently chasing after the Golian. Ezri and Methos stood up as the Golian approached them. However, the Golian didn't get anywhere near them. He stepped on a fork from the Bajoran woman's lunch and tripped, impacting the floor with extreme force.

Ezri winced. The fall would have given a trill or a human a few bruises, maybe even some cracked bones if the impact was hard enough, but for a Golian, the damage was even worse. There were places in a Golian male's underarms that were extremely sensitive, and judging by the angle in which he'd fallen, some of those spots were hit. The Golian let out a small scream before passing out from the pain.

Odo knelt over the unconscious Golian. He tapped his COMM badge. "Medical team to the Replimat."

Methos knelt down next to Odo. "I’m a doctor," he assured Odo. He began looking the man over, but without the proper equipment, Ezri knew his assessment would be limited.

Since the infirmary was across the promenade, it took the medical team only a few seconds to arrive. "This man needs an anti-grav," Methos told the two nurses. The anti-grav was fetched. It took Methos, the nurses, Odo, and Ezri to lift the Golian onto the floating bed; Golians might look skinny, but their body masses were considerably heavy, due to the slightly lighter gravity on their home world.

Methos and the nurses directed the anti-grav out of the Replimat. Ezri stayed behind while Odo accompanied the medical personnel to the infirmary. "Be careful, Doctor," he told Methos. "That Golian is a very dangerous man."

"I don't think he's in any shape to harm anyone at the moment, Constable," Methos assured him. He tapped his COMM badge. "Dr. Bashir to the infirmary." He explained to the nurses and the constable, "My knowledge of Golian physiology is limited, I'm afraid. I believe Dr. Bashir mentioned that he knew something about it during lunch."

Odo took up a position in the corner. Several minutes later, Julian raced into the infirmary. He hurried over to the bio-bed they'd placed the Golian onto. "What have we got?" he asked.

As the nurses filled him in on the Golian's status, Julian began administering a treatment. Methos stood back and watched. Julian was clearly the expert on Golian physiology; Methos knew that he would just get in the way if he tried to assist him.

After ten minutes, it was over. "How is he, doctor?" Odo asked.

"He should be fine," Bashir replied. "I've managed to repair any major damage. I'll need to see him every daily for the next three or four days to make sure the minor damage is repairing itself, but other than that, he's in perfect health. He should be waking up any minute."

"What is he being accused of?" Methos asked out of curiosity.

"He was caught attempting to steal the Orb of Prophecy from the station's Bajoran shrine. Nearly succeeded, too."

"How?" Julian asked, surprised.

"He entered the shrine while it was empty and attempted to use a miniature cloaking device to conceal the Orb, only I was the cloaking device."

The Golian stirred and everyone turned to face him. He glanced around before attempting to stand up, only to howl in pain as he put weight on his arms.

"Easy," Julian said. "You'll have to go easy on your arms for another few days until those bruises heal."

"And you should have plenty of time to heal in the brig," Odo said, stepping up to the bed. He grabbed the Golian's shoulder.

The Golian struggled out of Odo's grasp. "No! I won't go!"

Out of reflex or on purpose, Odo grabbed the man's upper arm. The Golian gasped from the sudden contact on his sensitive spots. His eyes filled with panic.

Methos saw it happen, but before he could shout a warning, it was already too late. The Golian grabbed one of the medical tools from the tray next to his bed and swung it in the direction of Odo's stomach. Unfortunately, in his panic, the Golian miscalculated. On the way to Odo's stomach, the tool stabbed into Julian's chest.

"Julian, watch out!" Methos cried, but the warning came too late. Julian's eyes went wide as he collapsed to his knees. Blood seeped out around the tool, dampening his uniform with blood.

The Golian dived toward the door. He swung the tool at Methos, but Methos easily parried the wild swing. Before the Golian could try again, a phaser blast, set to stun, hit his back and the alien collapsed for a second time.

As the Golian struggled back to his feet, Odo tapped his badge. "Two to beam directly to the brig," he ordered.

Even as the constable and his prisoner disappeared in a sparkle of blue beams, Methos was racing to Julian's side. The two nurses were already there. The male nurse held a finger to Julian's neck. Methos caught a glimpse of a blue tattoo and human's wrist. "Sir, his pulse is dropping," he reported.

"Get him into the operating room," Methos ordered.

Once Julian had been carried into the next room and placed on the bed, Methos turned to the Bajoran nurse. "Hold up your wrist," he told her.

Startled, the woman looked at him. "Sir?"

Methos nodded to the other nurse. "He's a Watcher. These days, many Watchers have another Watcher-in-training with them. Is that you?"

The two nurses exchanged looks. "She's my trainee, yes," the human answered. "I’m Nurse Johnson, and she's Nurse Mora."

"Good," Methos said. "I wouldn't have wanted the wrong person to see this."

"Are you saying that Dr. Bashir is an Immortal?" Nurse Mora asked.

"He's going to be very soon," Methos told her. "Although you probably suspected as much, or there wouldn’t be a Watcher assigned to Bashir's staff, now would there?"

Johnson hesitated before nodding.

There was nothing to do but wait. An Immortal's First Death was always the hardest. It took the longest to heal and was the hardest to deal with when the person woke up.

Methos shook his head. He wondered if the average life of a medical doctor in Starfleet was like this. If it was, he should consider taking off before he got anywhere near Deep Space Eight.

After promising to let them know when Julian woke up, the Two Watchers left the OR and went about their duties. As soon as they were gone, Methos paged Ezri. Hopefully, a familiar face would help while Methos explained to the kid about his new status.

When Ezri saw Julian, she was shocked. "Julian," she breathed, racing to his side. Julian was still unconscious, and a blanket, pulled up to his chest, concealed the entry wound. The wound hadn't fully healed yet, and Methos didn't want anyone to ask why he hadn't run a regenerator over it.

"He'll be fine, although his life is going to be a little different from now on," Methos reassured her. "His Immortality's been triggered."

Ezri stared at from Julian to Methos. "The Golian killed him?" she asked, incredulous.

"Yep." Methos sat down on a nearby stool. "He'll be waking up in a few hours, and when he does, I'm going to give him the full explanation. I thought that, if you were there, it might help matters."

Ezri plopped down in the stool next to Julian's bed. "Are you sure he's Immortal?" she asked her old friend, worried.

"Positive."

"It still seems so hard to grasp," Ezri muttered. "Julian the Immortal. Guess we'll find out soon enough."

She stared down at Julian. Even when he was dead, he was handsome. You've got it bad, girl, Jadzia told her.

No way, she denied.

Something Methos had said suddenly occurred to her. "What did you mean it would help matters if I were here when he woke up?"

Methos raised an eyebrow, amused. "I meant that the two of you seem to get along just fine. I'm surprised he hasn't asked you out yet after all the google eyes the two of you have been giving each other. It's absolutely sickening and I witnessed only ten minutes of it."

Ezri glanced away, feeling her cheeks redden. She couldn't think of a suitable comeback because he'd just confirmed what she'd been wondering. See, what did I tell you? Jadzia said, sounding very pleased with herself. You're in love.

Ezri wanted to deny it. What about Worf? she argued. Ezri couldn't do that to him, not so soon after Jadzia had died.

Jadzia's mind voice was filled with just as much regret. Worf wasn't your husband, he was mine. He'd understand.

Julian had the worst headache. Before he opened his eyes, he took assessment of his aches and pains: miraculously, the only thing that hurt was his head. He opened his eyes and pulled the blanket back to look at his chest. There was no entry wound, which was impossible. Even with regenerators, a wound like that would need several treatments before it healed completely. There was no evidence of surgery, either.

He knew one thing for sure: his headache wasn't going away.

"Dr. Adams, Dr. Bashir is awake," he heard Nurse Mora announce. He glanced up in time to see the nurse duck out of the room a second before Nathaniel Adams stepped inside.

Their eyes met, and to Julian's surprise, the headache faded away to a barely noticeable throb. "Doctor-" Julian began, struggling to sit up.

Adams hurried to his bedside and pushed Julian back down. "Easy, Bashir. You suffered internal injuries."

Julian glanced up at him, confused. He was about to ask, "What injuries?" when he caught sight of Ezri and Chief O'Brien stepping into the room.

"Glad to see you that you're up, finally," Miles told him. "We were getting worried that you'd never wake up."

"How are you doing, Julian?" Ezri asked, looking worried.

"Fine," Julian assured her. "How long was I out?"

"Close to twelve hours," Adams answered.

"I need to get back to work," said O'Brien. "I'll spread the word that you're awake."

"See you later," Julian told him.

Once he'd left, Ezri approached his bed and took a seat in the stool next to it, while Adams walked across the room and leaned against the desk. "As you've probably already guessed, doctor, you shouldn't be completely healed right now," Adams began.

Julian nodded. "The thought had crossed my mind." He turned to Dax. "Ezri, what's going on?"

"Better let Nathaniel explain it," she told him, squeezing his hand.

INCOMPLETE

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