Title: "Dax WHO?!" (humor)
Author: Emony (ro_laren@my-deja.com)
Series: DS9 (what could have happened after "Tears of the Prophets")
Rating: PG-13 (innuendo, mild language)
Characters: darn near everyone
Summary: What would have happened if the Dax symbiont couldn't make it to Trill in time?
*Disclaimer: the characters and settings contained herein are the property of Paramount. The author does not intend to infringe, only to pay tribute. No profit will be made by posting this story, except maybe personal amusement.
*Note: I'm making very little effort to stick to canon here, so try to bear with me as I make stuff up to suit my fancy.
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Kira was pacing, maddeningly, back and forth in front of the infirmary door. Chief O'Brien was sitting on the floor next to it, watching her swing like a pendulum. He noticed Worf watching her as well, and thought he was going to have to dive between them at any moment. Worf was looking furious. He stood facing the door with clenched teeth and clenched fists, willing the Major to stop before he stopped her himself. The Captain was on his way, but O'Brien thought he was lucky not to be here, waiting, tension as thick as a plasma burst, for Julian to come out and tell them what they already knew anyway.
Come out he did, just at that moment. The stricken look on his face told them everything they needed. "Jadzia's not expected to live for more than a few hours. There was nothing I could do for her. I'm sorry, Worf."
Worf growled, "Maybe you could have done something if you hadn't been so busy swooning over her!"
Kira stepped in. "That's enough, Commander! Julian is a fine doctor, and if he says he did everything he could, then that's what he did!"
Sisko appeared, almost out of nowhere. "What about the symbiont, Doctor? Were you able to save it?"
Bashir shifted, uncomfortable. "The Dax symbiont is alive, for now, but if it isn't transferred to a new host immediately, it will die as well."
"Then we must contact Trill this minute. Chief, see if you can . . ."
Bashir interrupted Sisko. "I'm afraid there's no time for that. Dax must have a new host *immediately*, at least until it has stabilized enough to get to Trill. It has to be one of us."
There was a general gasp in the crowd. "Why not you, Julian?" O'Brien suggested, helpfully.
"I can't implant the symbiont in myself, I'm the only doctor on the station who has the knowledge to perform the procedure. It has to be someone else."
All four heads turned at once to face the fifth, who looked appalled at the very idea. "I don't think she would have wanted me to . . ."
Bashir interrupted once again. "There's no time. It has to be now."
With that he followed Bashir into the infirmary, the consensus in the crowd outside that they were mighty glad it was him instead of any of them.
* * *
When he was dragged out of unconsciousness, unwillingly, the first thing he saw as his eyes fluttered open was the smiling, bedside face of Bashir. His head was pounding, and . . . it was noisy, as well. "The operation was a complete success. You will provide a perfectly suitable host to the symbiont until we can safely transport it to Trill. How do you feel, Dax, son of Mogh?"
Worf wanted to wipe that smug look off his face, but at the same time felt the urge to cup it tenderly, to thank him for saving his life. Worf simply growled instead. "I want to be alone with Jadzia, is she awake?"
"Of course, Dax, I'll leave you two alone." Bashir said as he walked out of the infirmary, his grin utterly inappropriate under the present circumstances.
"Worf . . ." he heard his own (no, Jadzia's) voice call out weakly to him, and he got up to approach her. She was wan, dying, but smiling in a most curious manner. She took his hand. "I feel like I'm meeting myself on the street. How do you feel?"
Worf clasped her hand. "It does not matter how I feel. We must say goodbye, Jadzia. Dax will live now, in me."
She sighed. "Thank you, Worf, although I don't know if you would have been my first choice for this honor."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Worf snapped.
"You'll find out, I suppose. I love you Worf, but I guess you know that. We could have made beautiful music together . . ." With that, she was gone, and Worf was (all but) alone in the room.
Suddenly the biobed began beeping once again, and her eyes fluttered back open. "Worf, one other thing . . . watch out for Julian, I think he's always had a soft spot for you." Then, silence once again. Worf Dax roared up at the florescent lights to mourn the passing of (himself) his beloved wife.
* * *
Worf sat at the bar, drinking blood wine. He was off duty until further notice, although he didn't appreciate the way Sisko (Benjamin) snickered when he granted him the leave. He was in particularly bad humor, and Quark was unfortunate enough to attempt a conversation.
"More blood wine, Dax?" Quark asked, looking like a vile little (sweet, misunderstood) troll.
"I AM NOT DAX!" Worf snarled. "I am simply taking care of it as a favor to my wife. Not that she deserves it . . ."
"What was that, Commander?" Quark prodded. "Having trouble adjusting to having someone else in your head?"
"I am not ‘having trouble.' I am just a little upset with my wife at the moment. Did you know she thought you were ‘cute'? Disgusting."
Quark grinned. "She thought I was cute? I had no idea."
"Don't flatter yourself, Ferengi. Apparently, she also thought Captain Sisko was ‘cute' but she didn't want to ruin the friendship. And Bashir was ‘cute', except that he tried too hard. Even Chief O'Brien would have been ‘cute' if he hadn't been married. She had designs on everyone on this station except for her own husband. And that's not to mention the dozens of men that she slept with, that slut . . ."
"Worf, Worf, please, you shouldn't speak ill of the dead. Besides, I rather liked the woman, although I question her tastes in men . . ."
Worf grabbed him by the collar and shook him a moment. "Don't ever question my taste in men, little man, I love Worf very much. I . . . bah!" He dropped Quark, then got up and walked out of the bar, looking utterly lost and not just a small part furious.
"I think I would have liked it better if Dax was part of Kira instead." Quark grinned lecherously as he entertained the thought for a moment, then shrugged and returned to drying glasses.
* * *
"Julian, you can't be serious," O'Brien said to his bosom pal. "Are you?"
"I don't know, Miles," Bashir answered, a grin creeping up around the corners of his mouth. "Stranger things have happened."
O'Brien shook his head in disgust. "No, they haven't."
Bashir's comm badge crackled to life. "Sisko to Bashir."
"Bashir here"
"Mr. *ahem* Dax has requested that you meet him in the infirmary."
Bashir's eyebrows shot up, and O'Brien rolled his eyes.
"On my way, Captain. Bashir out."
"Julian, wipe that grin off your face. You never had a chance with Jadzia, you certainly don't have one with Worf."
"We'll see about that," Bashir said, and then rose to walk, practically skipping, to the infirmary.
"Well that's just beautiful," O'Brien muttered. "Now I have Worf to compete with too."
* * *
"What seems to be the problem, Commander?" Bashir said, running the tricorder over Worf's upper body.
"No problem at all, Doctor, except that my wife is a whore! There are many things I didn't need to know about Jadzia."
Bashir smirked. "That doesn't really sound like a medical problem to me, Worf. I'm afraid I can't do much about your marital problems, especially since your wife is dead."
"Don't get smart with me, Julian! . . . er, Doctor." Worf said, flustered. "I want this thing out!"
Bashir put a hand on Worf's shoulder, and grinned satisfactorily when he did not brush it away. "We've contacted Trill already, Dax. They're sending the next host by shuttle craft within the next few days. In the meantime, why don't you enjoy it?"
"I do not know how you expect me to enjoy this, Doctor." Worf said, but he was softening.
"I think you do, Worf . . . I happen to know that Dax always had a soft spot for me." He put his other hand on Worf, and looked him squarely in the eyes.
"Perhaps, but . . ." Worf started, but couldn't finish. Bashir's lips were already on him.
* * *
"Doctor, I must have a word with you." Worf said as he passed Bashir on the Promenade.
"What is it, Commander? Something go wrong with the surgery?" Bashir said, smiling dreamily.
"No, the surgery was a complete success. The new host is already returning to Trill. In fact, he asked me to tell you he'd like to meet you one day. But that is irrelevant. Julian," Worf said, gripping the doctor by the shirt, "please be aware that what happened never would have if it wasn't for Dax's influence. I still do not like you, and if anyone ever finds out about this I won't hesitate to kill you. Do you understand?"
Bashir gulped. "Yes, Worf, I understand completely."
"Good," Worf said, then let go of Bashir and continued along the Promenade.
Bashir sighed contentedly. "Dax wanted me after all . . ." he whispered, singsong, to himself as he merrily skipped down the Promenade.
THE END
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*Feedback is much desired and appreciated, as always, but try not to be too critical as this is not meant to be taken seriously!