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pointy-ears-kink · 3 years

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Fandom: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine

Fic #01; prompt: Strangling

Characters: Ezri Dax & Weyoun 6

cw: violence, dissociation

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33471691

@badthingshappenbingo

“How is he?”

The rest of the senior staff turned towards Ezri. They’d been silent the entire time.

Sisko broke the tension. “Who?”

“Weyoun. I mean, they pretty much just turned against everything they’ve ever known and fled to the enemy side, the only thing that allows him to justify it to himself is Odo, and he doesn’t want them around. They must be pretty shaken up.”

“Probably, yes. Why?”

“Well… I’m a counselor. I figured I could talk to him. It’s my job.”

O’brien barged in. “Woah, wait now, I’m not sure that’s such a great idea-”

“They’re right, though. He probably needs it.” Julian interrupted him.

“I just don’t want them to get hurt!”

Sisko raised his palm. “I think they can handle themselves, chief.”

“I just think they deserve a chance.” Ezri tried to keep their voice firm. “Plus, it would also benefit us a great deal if we ensured he’s healthy. But, really, they must be miserable. Just let me help.”

Sisko sighed. “Well then. You may visit him once a day, for an hour. You pick the time. You are to meet with a security officer who will escort you to and from your meetings, during which they’ll wait outside-”

Ezri opened their mouth to contest but Sisko cut them off immediately.

“-and that’s non-negotiable. He’s still under the effect of the toxins from the fake suicide implant, I don’t want to risk it. Dismissed.”

They figured it could’ve been worse, and silently left the room with everyone else.

Weyoun 6 had been taken out of the holding cell and relocated to living quarters as they spoke. He’d only arrived an hour ago and was at first put in a holding cell, but Odo, albeit reluctantly, had vouched for him, on the condition the vorta would be confined to whatever rooms they’d be given for the time being.

All in all, this meant that at 2459 Ezri was on the habitat ring walking away from their quarters and towards Weyoun’s, accompanied by a reluctant security officer. They would have preferred waiting to be rested, but they were only allowed one hour per day, and since it wasn’t midnight yet they could still squeeze in an extra hour. It was a technicality, sure, and Sisko certainly wouldn’t be pleased, but they needed all the time they could get.

At 2512, they were standing in front of the door. They addressed the officer escorting them. “Again, I’m sorry about dragging you here this late, but it’s important. I’ll try to make it up to you.”

She didn’t look pleased but accepted the offer.

2513. Better get started.

Ezri took a deep breath and chimed.

“Who is it?” Weyoun’s voice was slightly shaky.

“My name’s Ezri Dax. I’m a counselor.”

The door opened. Weyoun was precariously sitting at the edge of the window, looking out into space. They spoke without turning their head. “What do you need?”

“I don’t need anything. I’m here to help you.”

Now he turned to look at them, his eyes barely getting them into focus. “Why?”

“Again, I’m a counselor. And I think you could use one.”

“I’m sure there are more useful ways in which you could spend your time.”

“But I chose to come here, so we might as well make the most of it.”

Weyoun remained silent for a bit. “What makes you think this is necessary?”

“Well, I figured things may be tough for you right now. You’re among those you’ve considered your enemies for years, far away from your own kind and the Founders, so I guess-”

The vorta practically hissed. “Don’t you dare speak of them!”

“Alright, we don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to.”

“Listen, counselor, I’m sure you think you can do something good here, but you don’t know what you’re talking about so don’t pretend you can waltz in and solve everything because of some flimsy licence of yours.”

“That’s not my goal, I’m simply here to talk. It’s up to you how much you want to share.”

“But that’s just another way to put it, isn’t it?” Weyoun stood and started walking towards Ezri. “You make promises of safety, put up a façade to lure me into believing I’m the one with agency here. What for? What do you want from me?”

They were standing dangerously close. Ezri forced themselves not to take a step back, or raise their palms, or do anything that would be read as defensive and invite conflict. “I’d only like to listen to you for a bit to see if we can come up with something. I’m a counselor. It’s my job.”

Weyoun’s voice became a hiss. “I’ve already told you I’m not falling for your lie, either try a new one or tell me truth.”

“It is the truth.”

Wrong answer. His hands jumped to their throat, gripping with unexpected force. Instinctively, they grabbed their wrists.

Shit. Shitshitshit not what I expected.

What did you expect? He should’ve been killed like any other enemy. That was the Joran influence. It had been with them since they’d asked for his help.

This is so not the time for this. Shit.

So far, they had managed to keep the vorta’s hands from choking them, but they were starting to waver.

God, now what?

“They should regain consciousness any second now.”

Ezri could see Julian’s back out the corner of their eye.

“Very well.” Sisko’s voice. He sounded tired.

“The damage was superficial, luckily. Just some bruises. Although I think it may have been due to lack of will rather than ability to harm. Security found him crouched in the corner, completely still and uncommunicative.”

Ezri sat up.

“Ah, lieutenant. How are you feeling?” Sisko was facing them.

Julian turned around, a concerned look on his face.

“I’m fine, really.” They tried to sound calm.

“Ezri, you were strangled until you lost consciousness. Sure, it could’ve been much worse, still, fine is hardly the appropriate term.”

“I do feel fine though.” They took a deep breath, which proved more relieving than they’d ever thought possible. “Where is he?”

“Ezri, I’m not sure you should see him…” Julian looked uncomfortable.

“He’s in a holding cell, isn’t he? I want to see him.”

“Weyoun is yet to be dismissed by Dr. Bashir, lieutenant. It is up to our CMO to decide whether they’re ready for visitors.”

Ezri looked at Sisko, then back at Julian. “Please.”

He sighed. “When he was found, he was completely out of touch with his surroundings. They seem to be slowly getting out of it, though, and I’d prefer to leave them a couple of days to recover before receiving visitors. Since security dropped them off here they’ve only interacted with the strictly necessary medical personnel and I’d rather keep it that way. As a licensed therapist, I’ll allow you in, but I’d rather wait a bit. Pass by later, around 2100. Go to sleep now. You had better be properly rested by then.”

Sisko sighed. “Fine. But this time, you’ll stay in visual range of the security officer and are not to get within two meters of him.”

Ezri almost protested, but figured they weren’t in the position to.

“One hour, lieutenant- computer, what time is it?”

“The time is 2535.”

“-starting tomorrow.”

Ezri got the hint and retired to their quarters. Julian was right, they needed to rest.

“The time is 0600.”

…

“The time is 0600 and ten seconds.”

“Alright, alright! I’m awake.” They begrudgingly pushed the cover away and got up. Turns out, getting strangled didn’t ensure good sleep. Who would’ve thought.

Ezri fueled up on ratkajino and prepared themselves for the day ahead. It didn’t look like it was going to be simple.

Stepping out into the habitat ring corridor, they ran into Odo.

“Hi, Odo.”

He turned. “Lieutenant.”

He resumed his course towards the promenade, Ezri tailing him.

A few moments passed silently. They were struggling to keep up with the pace, but eventually they resolved to speak anyway. “So… have you talked to Weyoun 6 since you two got here?”

“I have not. I thought it best to give him space for the time being.”

“Right. I imagine it might be awkward for you, being around them.”

Odo harrumphed. “That’s one way to put it.” He glanced at them, then went back to focusing on the corridor. “I heard about what happened. I wasn’t there as I was in my regenerative state, but I trust my officers handled the situation appropriately.”

Ezri nodded, even though Odo wasn’t looking at them. “I didn’t see them, but yeah, I think so.” They paused. “Dr. Bashir is taking care of them. He said they’re recovering. They’ll be fine.”

Some more silence before Odo answered. “Thank you, lieutenant.”

“Anytime.”

They spent the rest of their commute in silence. Ezri made it a point to get through the day avoiding -and ignoring- the subtle preoccupied glances, the not so subtle concerned stares, and the straightforward worried questions. They managed, mostly; up until 2030, when they stepped in the infirmary.

Julian was standing by an empty biobed, reading something off a pad. He looked up when he heard their footsteps.

“Oh, hi, Ezri.”

“Hi. I figured I’d come in a bit early.”

“I’m glad. Since we have the time, would you mind if I quickly checked in with you?” He was already lifting a medical tricorder towards them.

Ezri figured it was only fair. He’s the doctor, after all; at the very least, if they got clearance from him, they could dismiss everyone else by reassuring them they’d been checked by the CMO himself.

After scanning their neck and respiratory system thoroughly, he put his tool down. “You’re fine.”

“Why do you sound so disappointed?”

He chuckled. “I’m simply worried about you. I guess I half-hoped to find an excuse not let you do this.”

“I’ll be okay. Now, where are they?”

Julian gestured towards the other side of the infirmary. “Observation.”

The same security officer as the previous night, one ensign McKenzie, was standing by the door.

They awkwardly waved at her. “Sorry about, uhm… everything.”

She shrugged. “Just doing my job. I intend to take you up on your offer, though, so don’t die, okay?”

Ezri smiled. “Okay. Thanks.”

And in they went.

Weyoun was standing near the wall opposite, his hands joined on his back, looking at the posters on the wall about the bajoran muscular system as if it was a scenery.

“Are you feeling alright?”

They turned to look at them. “Yes. I must apologize for my current state.”

“I can’t imagine having spent multiple lifetimes seeing us as your enemy makes this easy or you. You held back though, didn’t you?”

“I… did. And, counselor, I appreciate the effort, but I don’t think you can quite, imagine what that’s like.”

“I think I can though.”

He tilted his head to the side, a question in their eyes.

“You see, I am trill. Although I, Ezri, look- and, in a way, am- twenty two, the Dax symbiont I’m joined with is over three hundred years old. Which, I guess, makes me three hundred. I have memories from seven other lifetimes, and although I didn’t spend all of them leading a war against people I later asked asylum from, I can use my imagination and say, it must be hard.”

Weyoun mulled it over for a bit. “Trill, you say…”

“Yeah. That’s the name of my species. Point is, I kind of get what you mean. And I’m here to help.”

He lightly shook his head. “I don’t wanna risk another… accident. For the time being, I’d prefer thinking things over by myself. However, I’d be glad to keep seeing you. If I am to stay on the station, I’ll need to get acquainted with its people, and I believe having you ease me into it would be good for me. That is, if you wish to.”

They considered it. “Well, sounds good to me. You sure could use some friends. I guess you can consider me one, now. And, in case no one’s told you…”

They fixed their posture, assuming the most formal stance they could muster.

“...welcome to Deep Space Nine.”

#bad things happen bingo #star trek fanfiction #ds9 #exri dax #weyoun 6 #exri dax/weyoun 6

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aurora-nova-fic · 5 years

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Archimedes Snippets, Part 2

A couple more ideas for Garak as a Starfleet spouse, following All Our Tomorrows. Because the muse doesn’t want to work on a complete story so much as little scenes here and there in various follow-up works.

As before, these are unpolished (you can tell, because the tenses switch from one snippet to the next). I’m not really doing anything with these, just getting the ideas down so I can stop writing them in my head.

The Bashir & Garak show moves. The crew of the Archimedes is intrigued.

The Archimedes is twenty hours into its two-year mission when Bashir and Garak first argue in public.

This doesn’t escape anyone’s notice. Starfleet gossips. Not everyone, of course; the exact amount of gossip per person varies considerably. Any ship or station with a large percentage of Vulcans can be expected to show a corresponding drop in this behavior (sociologists have done studies, inherent difficulties in studying the subject notwithstanding). On the whole, though, it’s a popular pastime, especially when things are a bit dull at the moment or when a new crew comes together.

The USS Archimedes is fresh from Utopia Planetia with a new crew still getting to know each other, and it doesn’t surprise anyone when the first focal point of gossip is Dr. Julian Bashir.

For one thing, their CMO comes to the Archimedes from Deep Space Nine, where he was indisputably a hero of the Dominion War. His discovery of the cure for the changeling disease helped end the war, though for some reason that’s the only medical topic about which he doesn’t like to speak. He was there from the beginning of the quadrant’s conflict with the Founders, survived a Dominion internment camp, and developed an antigen to prevent the spread of a Dominion-bioengineered disease.

He’s also the first Augment allowed to serve openly in Starfleet, which is still controversial in some circles. The idea is that he’s not Khan, but some people are afraid he’s the tip of a dangerous iceberg. Nobody on the Archimedes knows Bashir’s personal feelings on the subject of genetic engineering, because the only people brave enough to ask, this early in the voyage, are also wise enough to know it’s not their business.

What really secures Bashir’s place as the grapevine’s favorite subject is his marriage. He arrives on the Archimedes newly married, which would’ve been unremarkable if his husband hadn’t been a Cardassian. A Cardassian who worked with the Federation during the war but may have been an Obsidian Order agent before that. Nobody on the ship is entirely sure, nor do they know exactly what said order actually did, but they assume it was something like the Tal Shiar and don’t like the idea one bit.

So it’s natural that everyone’s watching them. And what the crew sees confuses them at first.

Not a full Earth day after leaving Deep Space Nine, Bashir takes a late lunch and meets his husband in the mess hall. A handful of alpha shift crewmembers are around, and some of the beta shift getting an early breakfast, so there a good dozen witnesses to see both of them getting worked up. They speak quietly, but have intent facial expressions and both gesture with abandon.

“Didn’t they just get married?” asks Taiya, a beta shift engineer.

“I heard they practically came aboard from their honeymoon,” replies MacPherson, who then has to explain the concept to Taiya and thus learns Andorians have no equivalent.

“Short honeymoon phase,” adds Kowalczyk.

To the trio’s delight, Bashir and Garak have gotten so into their argument they raise their voices. “… absolute caricature of a villain is insulting to the reader.”

Bashir’s eyebrows fly up. “Really? That’s your next complaint?”

“Oh, please. Don’t tell me anyone goes around proclaiming, ‘Woe me, I’m so hideous to look at, I must therefore kill my brother and nephews.’ As motivations go, it lacks any semblance of credence.”

Taiya’s antennae twitch in confusion.

“You’re deliberately ignoring his motivation,” insists Bashir. The audience doesn’t have a clue what he’s talking about. “Gloucester claims to have been ‘cheated of feature by dissembling nature,’ so wronged that even dogs bark when he walks by.”

“From my understanding, Terran dogs bark all the time. It’s hardly good reason to kill your own brother.”

“He feels everyone hates him because of his physical appearance. ‘And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover, to entertain these fair well-spoken days, I am determined to prove a villain.’ If he’d been shown kindness and love, he wouldn’t have been so angry. His life could’ve been entirely different!”

“You cannot possibly intend to read this as advocating the healing power of love.”

“No, because we don’t see anyone show Gloucester love, but think of the possibility. His life could’ve been entirely different if…”

“…he lived in a time when his deformities could be easily treated?”

“…people weren’t so shallow.”

“That is a theory not remotely supported by the rest of the text.”

“Shakespeare,” says MacPherson. “I think that’s Richard III.” When the others give him a questioning look, he shrugs. “My mother does community theater, so I spent a lot of time at rehearsals as a kid. You pick these things up.”

Bashir’s combadge beeps. “We’ll have to continue this discussion later,” he says. He and Garak briefly press their palms together, and then the doctor heads out of the mess hall.

Garak looks towards the observing trio, smiles knowingly, and picks up a padd.

This becomes a pattern. Bashir and his husband (no one even knows if the man has a first name) don’t act like newlyweds in love. They argue. Constantly. In fact they argue more than Vord can believe, and she’s a Tellarite. A Tellarite who joined Starfleet to escape the constant verbal sparring of Tellar, if it matters, but even on her homeworld, marriage is supposed to be a refuge from conflict.

They meet for lunch when Bashir’s schedule permits. The crew begins to consider this a source of entertainment, even when they don’t have any knowledge of the books under discussion. It’s usually literature at lunch. Human and Cardassian, mostly, but they sometimes add in works from other societies with no rhyme or reason anyone else can figure. Taiya says they’re both wrong about a seminal Andorian novel, according to a Written Arts teacher she had at age sixteen.

They’re obviously fast readers, given that they discuss a new book every other day, every third at the outside. Either that, or, as Kowalczyk says, they have a lot less sex than your average newlyweds.

Some ten days into the mission, Bashir calls a Cardassian book derivative and Garak reaches new levels of primly outraged.

“Derivative! Just because your authors have no respect for tradition doesn’t mean the rest of the galaxy is so enamored with the new.” He’s clearly gearing up for a long diatribe. Some of the crew pause their own lunch to watch the spectacle when Bashir’s combage chirps, and he gets up with clear regret.

That’s when people start to realize the CMO and his husband love debating. This is a honeymoon phase, weirdly enough. The pair is spotted coming out of Holodeck 1 disagreeing on the program they’d just run.

“You’re not supposed to suspect Watson.”

“I don’t see why not,” replies Garak. “If he’s constructing the narrative, he could well be the murderer.”

It appears there’s nothing they won’t argue. This doesn’t stop them from looking like they want to jump each other, though they are actually very decorous in public. No one has ever seen them do more than press their hands together.

People wonder what happens when they’re actually fighting. It turns out, silence. One day, a month into the mission, they eat quietly. It’s unnerving. They must make up overnight, though, because the following day they’re at it again, hashing out opposing views on a Cardassian poet.

Kotra references come in handy

“Archimedes to Bashir,” said Lt. (j.g) Connelly, Operations Officer.

It was a long moment before the CMO responded, and if he didn’t have a good reason, Andrea was going to have a chat with him about setting alarms for check-ins.

“Bashir here.”

“You’re overdue for check-in, Doctor,” said Andrea.

“My apologies, Captain. The aid evaluation is very complex.”

That was what alarms were for, Andrea thought. “Anything to report?”

“It’s a delicate matter. I should have a better idea of what’s needed shortly.”

They’d responded to a request for help from a small Klingon colony in need of medical assistance. Andrea hadn’t even known there was a Klingon colony in the Gamma Quadrant, but the Empire wasn’t obligated to disclose every settlement to the Federation, and were within their agreed-upon rights here. The Archimedes therefore dispatched an away team to see what could be done about their medical problem. Everyone knew Klingon medicine was a joke.

“Keep me informed,” said Andrea.

“Yes, ma’am.” A pause, and then, “May I speak with Garak for my spousal check-in, please?”

Starfleet did not offer spousal check-ins. Andrea started to think Bashir hadn’t forgotten anything, and there was a problem on the surface. “Of course,” she said. “One moment.”

At her nod, Connelly opened a channel to Bashir and Garak’s quarters. “Garak,” said Andrea. “Dr. Bashir commed for his spousal check-in.”

“Excellent.” Garak didn’t sound surprised in the least. He was a very good actor, Andrea decided – or she hoped that was the case here. “Are you there, Julian?”

“Yes. You’d like the temperature down here.”

“But not the menu, I’m sure.”

“No,” agreed Bashir, sounding amused. “I decided my next kotra move on the ride. It’ll give you something to think about, since I might be down here a while.”

“What is it?”

“Left flank advance center right.”

“An interesting choice,” said Garak.

“You always tell me kotra favors the bold. I look forward to your response.”

“You’ve given me few choices, my dear.”

“I know. Bashir out.”

A very puzzled Connelly reported, “Comm line closed.”

“What was that, Garak?” asked Andrea.

“A request for immediate transport.”

“If you’re wrong, we could start a diplomatic incident with offended Klingons.”

“I’m not wrong, Captain. Dr. Bashir invented a procedure to speak to me, did he not? Furthermore, we are not currently playing kotra, but the move he indicated is a trap he fell into the night before last.”

“A trap,” repeated Andrea. “I see. Lieutenant, beam up the away team.”

“Initiating transport,” said Connelly. “I have them. Transporter room two.”

Andrea tapped her combadge. “Scholz to Bashir. What the hell is going on?”

“It was a trap, Captain. They took our combadges and had a mek’leth to Tersan’s throat, so I had to get creative to avoid suspicion.”

“Is everyone alright?”

“Nothing worse than bruises. Something on this planet is unbalancing the Klingons’ mental state. The worst cases exhibit paranoia, and they decided the away team is part of a Federation plot to keep the Empire out of the Gamma Quadrant.”

“I want to see the entire away team in my ready room.”

“On our way.”

“And Doctor? Good thinking.”

#ds9 #fanfic #garak/bashir #snippets

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cyrelia-j · 6 years

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[ficlet] #1 Frontier Medicine (Jack/Julian)

So going off this post I decided to go ahead and do this for the next drabble/ficlet series (30 days of Jack is technically done so a focus shift though I will add on there when I have more ideas in that universe).

Check the tag "the new jj frontier" for all of these and stay tuned!

Summary: Jack and Julian grew up together in the Institute, fell in love, and got married. As part of an experimental program Julian [a success story!] was allowed to join Starfleet and was assigned as CMO of Deep Space Nine as a test run along with his husband Jack (who's still struggling to find his place). This is their story.

Pairing: Jack/Julian though there will be G/B/J in some fashion later

Warnings: None yet

Series Notes: In addition to retelling the series, I also wanted to explore Jack and Julian's relationship as it changes. I like seeing how old expectations and habits can grow stronger through change and conflict. Jack in this story does still have a lot more issues than Julian, and I wanted to explore Jack coming into his own more as an individual instead of just the "Julian's husband"/dependent role where he starts (this is also something I think that Kira is sensitive too so if you wonder about her behavior towards the end of this, I hope that explains it.) I hope everyone will join me on this ride, and I look forward to it!

“Just breathe, Jackie,” Julian whispers at Augment level, putting a hand on his shoulder, and Jack nearly drops the PADD as he stuffs it under his armpit and signs that he is breathing. Right next to him the woman, the trill, Jadzia Dax shoots him a reassuring smile. Jack likes her. Julian likes her- though Julian likes her in a very Julian way which is something else entirely. Jack is sure she doesn’t like either of them that same way [as Lauren would say] which he doesn’t understand because from everything he’s observed, his husband is quite Quantifiably a catch but… but Jack, they say is crazy (more of a joke now than it used to be) so what does he know?

He knows that he needs to speak when he can manage it for the translators, according to Dr. Loews, at least until the Federation Computer systems are fully functional to provide the necessary support. Jadzia understands him when he signs (which is a relief) but he knows that the sooner he becomes accustomed to conversing, the less anxious he’ll feel when doing it. He had a lot of practice the few days each week he and Julian were allowed to attend Starfleet Academy (with Julian an Experiment in the medical program and Jack his shadow in classes and tutor for those who needed extra help) so he’s… reasonably sure he can do this.

“Thank you!” he exclaims with a smile and a dip of his head and he can tell that Julian wants to ask her to coffee later but is far too worried about him so… Best Smile at her, hand over Julian’s, squeeze, step back and… ah… the Station is large, he realizes, bright, the hum starting to catch his attention but… he can push it to the back, pushing to the back, arms crossed equalling armor that blocks it out, biting his finger, small endorphin rush, right, better better. “Can Julian repay you with a coffee? For… for being nice, for being a wonderful host to both of us for the trip mmhm.”

Jack doesn’t know what’s so funny about that but Julian’s face Absolutely beams when she laughs and says yes and it’s probably pointless but… Julian has fun and Jack loves seeing that smile.

“Ready?” He asks with a bounce to his step as the Bajoran woman Kira explains that she’ll be showing them around the station. Jack has his PADD at the ready, set to take notes, dismayed but not surprised to see the Station's in disarray because this was part of the briefing and he Augment Whispers to Julian under his breath as he amends his existing notes, takes more, seeing Julian frown with his Serious face.

The Station is also cold even with the warm green sweater, Julian always warm not paying it any mind, as they survey the damaged Infirmary. Hmm lot of Work but they’ll be up for it and Officially Jack can’t help but Unofficially he and Julian have always been each others' Support so… they can work with this. Major Kira explains about the looters which makes Jack’s ears perk up even as Julian tells her that they’re both just exceptionally grateful for the chance that Starfleet has given them and they’ll be doing their best to work together and support everyone who needs their help.

“Only a numbness registered the shock of finding out how much had gone of life… Scorched Earth,” Jack murmurs as he notes the supplies that they’ll need, taking a moment to breathe as the crunch of glass underneath his boots unsettles him. He sees the Major watching him so he tries to offer a smile because that’s what he learned at the Academy but she… doesn’t react any more favorably so he drops that in favor of a rushed explanation of the old Earth military term until Julian coughs so he knows he's rambling, so he stops with a mumbled “sorry”.

“That’s the Cardassians for you,” Major Kira says bitterly after a moment. “They can’t stand the idea that they’re leaving us with anything. They hate that they never broke us.”

“Again, I hope you’ll offer our deepest thanks to your leaders,” Julian interrupts as Jack determines that he needs to get more Information because he doesn’t know enough about Cardassians. “We’re… honored to be here I… I don’t know how much was explained about us but in the Federation our opportunities are rather limited because of our enhancements and no one else wanted to take a chance with us so-”

“Doctor Bashir, I don’t care if the two of and your husband grow wings and fly. We Bajorans don’t have the same luxury that the Federation does to discriminate when people want to help.”

“Hmhm lots of work to be done but but it will get done, get running, does anyone need immediate attention?” Jack asks (very proud of himself for not pointing out the obvious hindrance that wings would pose in such a space, vestigial or otherwise) keeping track of the List the lists all in his head much more efficiently organized and flowing than the PADD but the PADD sets people at ease and the notes are good cues. Major Kira nods efficiently while she tells Julian that Nurse Jabara can help catch them up to speed and at the Academy he’s always been Julian’s shadow but- Words Jack, you can do this.

“Can you tell me more?” Jack asks suddenly rushing on. “Of course I read the files but files aren’t everything and they didn’t have much on the Cardassians, nothing really, they’re a blank in my file a lot of blanks, gaps hm.”

“I’m afraid I have a lot of work to do.”

“I can help I can listen I can-” He looks at Julian who’s motioning for him to drop it so he nods, crossing his arms. “Right right, no impositions. Thank you thank you mmhm.” Nod, smile, good good.

Jack isn’t quite sure why Major Kira gives Julian an odd look during that exchange, but she decides that she could use an extra set of hands with the cleanup after all. Julian reminds him gently only to listen which of course he knows but he supposes it doesn’t hurt to have the reminder because he might overtalk otherwise or rant unnecessarily and again, Major Kira has another one of those expressions.

She tells him as they leave Julian to meet with the medical team that he can talk as much as he likes.

#star trek ds9 #the new jj frontier #ds9 jack #julian bashir #jack/julian #au #drama #fanfic #cyrelia-j

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