Chapter Text
The call came, as it so often did, when Julian was already in the infirmary, patching an officer up. At this particular time, he was carefully removing shards of glass from an Andorian, who had been pushed to the floor when a brawl had started in Quark’s – unfortunately landing on top of a bottle which had been thrown to the ground seconds before.
“Odo to Bashir.”
Julian motioned for a nurse to take over from him as he acknowledged the comm. “Bashir here”.
“Doctor, Chief O’Brien has been stabbed by a Klingon. You’d better—”
“I’m on my way,” Julian replied, medkit already in hand and halfway out of the door. With Quark’s being directly opposite the infirmary, it was just as quick to run as it was to transport.
He saw the Chief almost immediately after stepping into the bar. It didn’t look good, and as he approached, it only seemed worse. He was well aware that a stab to the heart didn’t have to be fatal, but blood was gushing through the fingers of the ensign trying to put pressure on the wound, and his tricorder was showing him that it would take every ounce of skill he had to put the Chief back together.
“Odo, are you able to staunch this wound at all?” he yelled, wondering if the shapeshifter’s abilities would result in a better seal than human hands. As he deftly swapped his gloves for a new pair, his mind was a blur of calculations, computing how long it would take to knit Mile’s heart back together – and how much time he had left to work that miracle.
“Doctor, I’m rather—”
“If you don’t try, Constable, O’Brien doesn’t have a chance. Bashir to infirmary – incoming stab wound, I need a biobed cleared and 20 ccs of heparin at the ready.”
Odo had seemingly realised that this was no time to disobey the doctor’s orders, and had taken over the job of keeping O’Brien’s blood inside of him. As Julian had suspected, his efforts were far more successful than the ensign’s had been, and within seconds, Julian had initialised an emergency transport. Rematerialising in the infirmary, the two of them stood either side of a biobed, the Chief’s ever-weakening vitals now fully on display.
Julian took a second to check that the biobed’s readings were in line with his tricorder’s, and cursed – the full data forced his estimation of how long Miles had left to fall from five minutes to barely over two. But that was fine; Deep Space Nine had the technology to cope with that.
“Marin, I need the stasis field prepped and ready now. Jabara, where’s that heparin?”
“Sir, the stasis field’s still due for repairs.”
No.
Fuck.
How had he forgotten that?
“Dammit, Miles, that was supposed to be at the top of your priority list!” he muttered, picking up a muscular regenerator, and trying to ignore the countdown that had taken up residence in his brain. 1 minute 46 seconds.
“What do you need me to do, Doctor?” Odo asked, and Julian had to take another precious second to translate the medical jargon he’d been about to let loose into language Odo would actually understand.
“Simply put, the blade went through part of the Chief’s heart, and I have to mend it by going inside the wound. Keep as much of a seal around the wound and my regenerator as possible – but first I need to get in there.” Tools ready, Julian nodded at Odo to uncover part of the wound. Blood began oozing out immediately, although slower than before, now that the heparin was taking effect. Julian attempted to start his work, only to find that Odo was holding the regenerator fast.
“Constable, I need to be able to move this,” Julian almost growled. 1 minute 22 seconds. He didn’t hear Odo’s apology, but felt the tool released, and hastily, carefully, began his work.
1 minute 10 seconds. He didn’t have enough time. He supposed he could increase his speed if he didn’t regrow the heart wall to full thickness. It was risky – it wouldn’t be able to function on its own – but it might be enough to save the Chief, and give Julian the time to rebuild it fully later.
1 minute 0 seconds. Yes. Yes, this was working, 23% of the gap was now filled.
50 seconds. Steady now, careful -- you don’t want to trap anything inside the heart that shouldn’t be there. Take five seconds to check the screen; yes, clear.
40 seconds. Call for a nurse to be ready with the defibrillator on a very low setting. The delta inducer’s levels also need to checked – okay, they’re fine. 29% left to go.
32 seconds. Screens show a rapid drop in vital signs.
31 seconds. Screens show… he’s gone.
No. No, no, no, no. There’s still more time. There’s supposed to be more time.
Every monitor was saying the same thing: Miles O’Brien had died. But Julian couldn’t, wouldn’t, accept that. After all, he only needed another half-a-minute – less than that, really – to save O’Brien, and O’Brien was made of strong enough stuff that he could survive being “dead” for a few measly seconds. Especially when he had a doctor like Julian Bashir. No, Julian was going to continue the surgery and fix this and… There, the hole had been sealed.
“Odo, you can let go now,” he said, picking up the dermal regenerator and getting to work on the chest. It wasn’t the best job and he’d have to go over it later, but for now, it would do. It was all going to be okay. The heart just needed to be restarted.
He motioned for Nurse Zielinsky to give him the electrode pad. “Sir—,” they started, taking a few steps forward, but making no move to do as he had asked.
“Quickly!” he snapped. When they failed to respond instantly, he snatched the disk from them and held it aloft. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he registered that they were still talking to him, but his mind was fully occupied with bringing O’Brien back. Checking briefly that no-one was touching O’Brien – and no-one was, he was now the only person near the biobed – he then called “Clear!” as he had so many times before, and pushed the pad against O’Brien’s chest.
The body convulsed, but the readings didn’t change. That didn’t worry Julian though; he’d been expecting it to take three, or maybe even four, shocks to reset a heart as damaged as O’Brien’s had been back to its natural rhythm. And even after five, six, seven shocks he didn’t despair – he knew O’Brien would come around eventually. Because he had to.
At twelve shocks, however, he began to wonder if he’d been a bit hasty in allowing the heart walls to remain so delicate. Maybe he needed to continue the surgery, ensure that O’Brien’s heart was fully functional before he started another round with the defib. He looked around to ask Odo to resume his earlier position, and was surprised to see that Commander Sisko and Jadzia were also now standing in the infirmary, watching him.
As he met Sisko’s eyes, the other man stepped forward. “I’m sorry, Julian,” Sisko said, softly. “I know the two of you were close.”
Julian shook his head, refusing to accept the Commander’s concern. “It’s okay, it’s fine, I just— I need Odo again so I can…” His voice had lost his usual firm, cool cadence, and he wasn’t sure why because O’Brien would be fine if he could just get there quick enough.
“Julian,” said Jadzia, taking his arm gently, “he’s gone.”
Something about the tears in her eyes made Julian suddenly feel unbearably hot inside. Why was she already mourning when O’Brien hadn’t had a chance to recover yet? And since when did Sisko give up on one of his officers so easily? If Julian wasn’t going to, then what gave them the right to?
He drew himself up to full height, staring directly at Jadzia. “No!” he spat, viciously. “No, I’m the doctor, and he’s not gone until I damn well say he’s gone. And I say he’ll make a full recovery if I’m allowed to work for two more minutes. Constable, we’re going to do that procedure again, only this time it will work.” His anger had seemingly strengthened the waver that had previously threatened his voice; his conviction was back with full force.
Turning to find his laser scalpel, he missed the inquiring look that Odo shot Sisko, and Sisko’s helpless shrug and nod in return. And when Odo returned to the opposite side of the biobed, he was so caught up in issuing instructions that he also missed Jadzia’s quiet reproach – “Benjamin?” – and Sisko’s sombre response.
“Let him be, Dax. ”
“But the Chief’s… Julian can’t -”
“I know that. But Julian doesn’t yet. And I think we need to let him realise that himself. ”
--
It was another five minutes, and another ten shocks before the doctor realised that Miles O’Brien wouldn’t be coming back. Jadzia saw when it happened; Julian had opened his mouth as if to call for another increasingly desperate “Clear!”, but all that came out was a shaky exhale as he bowed his head in defeat. She was by his side in an instant, taking his instruments out of his trembling hands and then guiding him to a chair. Her own hands weren’t too steady, either. Even seven lifetimes didn’t make losing a friend any easier. Collapsing into her own chair, she allowed Julian to rest his head against her shoulder, and started running her hand up and down his arm, just as much to ground herself as to comfort him.
Benjamin had come over to join them, and now laid a hand upon Julian’s shoulder. “You did your best, doctor,” he intoned, slow and steady. “Julian, it’s not your fault. You did everything you could.”
No matter how many times she had seen Benjamin put his emotions aside for the sake of his crew, she would always be impressed with his control. That was not something that Curzon had taught him; Daxes had always worn their hearts on their sleeves. There were only two things that gave Benjamin away – the repeated clenching of his other hand into a fist, and the expression behind his eyes that she recognised all too well as deep fury. Otherwise, he was the picture of a perfect officer, utterly calm and composed.
She wasn’t sure if Julian had heard Benjamin’s platitudes; if he had, he hadn’t reacted. He was too still, and too quiet. Even his breathing was surprisingly soft, a barely-there whisper in stark contrast to her own ugly, ragged breaths, which accompanied the sobs that had kept leaking out of her ever since she’d entered the infirmary. Evidently, Benjamin had noticed Julian’s silence too, judging from the concerned look he exchanged with her, and the way he crouched down in front of the chair, as though the doctor was a small child.
“Julian? Doctor, can you hear me?” he asked, and Jadzia could see his eyes scanning the younger man’s face for any sign of response. He frowned, and looked back up at Jadzia. “He must be in shock, or something,” he said. “It seemed like he couldn’t even see me.” Shaking his head, he slowly raised himself to his feet again. “I’ll ask for a nurse to come and look at him.”
Surprisingly – although it shouldn’t really have been a surprise – the infirmary was still a hive of activity. Until now, Jadzia had failed to register anything apart from Chief O’Brien and Julian Bashir; when the Chief had died, everything, apart from Julian, had seemed to stop. But she realised now that this could not have been true, since there were still numerous other patients littered on chairs and beds across the room, a few nurses flitting to and from the injured parties. She couldn’t help her gaze from wandering back to where the Chief’s body lay, and was relieved to see someone had covered him up, and that Nurse Jabara appeared to be attending to all the post-death duties that Julian would clearly be unable to complete.
Benjamin had returned with Nurse Zielinsky, who began running a sonic disinfector over Julian as they examined him. Jadzia shook her head – she ought to have thought of that – and tried to help by removing Julian's gloves from his surprisingly cold hands, and passing them to Benjamin to dispose of. Zielinsky then instructed the pair of them to use the disinfector on themselves, before disappearing to find a blanket for Julian, whom they had confirmed was in shock.
“Keep him warm, keep him comfortable – he’ll come around eventually,” they said when they returned, handing the blanket to Jadzia.
“How soon?” inquired Sisko.
The nurse looked a little uncomfortable, and Jadzia thought it was only professional restraint that stopped them from shrugging. “I don’t know, sir,” they replied briskly. “Everyone’s different. And I’ve never seen Doctor Bashir in this way before.”
“No,” agreed Sisko. “I don’t think any of us have.”
Zielinsky left to carry out their other duties, and Benjamin looked across to Jadzia, sighing heavily. “Do you remember,” he asked, “the first time you had to give an order that cost the life of a friend?”
Dax’s memories rose up inside Jadzia in a wave she had long learned to ride, letting the currents of emotion surge past and subside. Yes, she remembered: the situation had arisen in more than one lifetime. But it was Jadzia’s memory that surfaced most clearly and she was brought back to the time, almost two years ago now, when she and Kira had crash-landed in the middle of the Bajoran forest. It had always been all-too-easy to imagine a far graver ending to that particular situation; as soon as she’d realised how seriously Nerys was injured, leaving her friend behind had been a possibility she’d reluctantly readied herself for. If Bareil’s search parties hadn’t found them when they did…
Benjamin’s lips were pursed, and she could tell her friend was also thinking back through the years. She knew why he had asked the question, and it was one of the things she loved best about him – that he would always seek to empathise with his officers in the truest way possible. The similarities were obvious; when he had stopped trying to cure the Chief, Julian had, in effect, left him for dead, just as both she and Benjamin had had to do in the field.
The differences were evident too. “It was all so sudden,” she said. “We weren’t in a battle, we weren’t on a mission – it just happened, here. None of us were prepared for anything like this.”
A peculiar look, one she didn’t quite recognise, crossed Benjamin’s face as she talked. “Exactly, old man,” he murmured, once again reaching out to lay a hand on Julian’s shoulder. “I don’t think back on that first time fondly – but in that moment, I was prepared for it.” He shook his head. “I wouldn’t want to be wearing our doctor’s shoes.”
Jadzia gave a rueful smile. “Nor would I want to be in yours, Benjamin.”
Benjamin rolled his shoulders back and straightened up, a commander’s poise settling back over his face. “Yes, well. It will be my pleasure to make that Klingon wish he’d never stepped foot on this station.” He nodded at Jadzia. “I’ll leave the doctor in your capable hands, Lieutenant.”
“Yes, sir.”
Jadzia wouldn’t be able to neglect her duties forever, either – but for now, her place was here.
--
Everything was too loud and too bright, and Julian didn’t really want to become aware of the world again. His neck and back ached, but nor did he want to move away from the comforting arm currently wrapped around him. He kept his eyes closed, trying to stay lost in the quasi-consciousness he had been engulfed in until a few moments ago.
A loud clattering, accompanied by a cry of “Damn!”, shattered his attempt. Startled, his eyes flew open, and he sat up, seeking the source of the noise. He found himself looking at Kira Nerys, who was now carefully extricating her arm from his shoulders, so she could reach down for the PADD she’d presumably just dropped.
“Julian!” she exclaimed, as Julian frowned at her in confusion. He had been certain that he had been leaning against Jadzia – so certain in fact that, as he blinked, he half-expected the Bajoran red of her uniform to change into science blue.
“Kira?” he said in response, as she looked at him expectantly. His brain had caught up with itself now, and his breath caught in his lungs upon remembering that Miles was… that Miles wasn’t.
But he found that his recollection of anything that had happened since then was somewhat hazy. The clinical part of his brain suggested that he’d gone into shock, which would certainly explain the blanket he’d just noticed draped over his legs, and why he couldn’t remember being given it. He had the vaguest sense of Jadzia and Sisko making him sit down, of voices and hands and warmth fading into nothingness—
“... with me? Julian, can you look at me?”
Realising that he’d become lost in his thoughts, he dragged his attention back to Kira, who was placing the blanket back over him with a tenderness that he didn’t think had ever been directed his way before.
“I’m… here,” he said slowly, discovering that his mouth was awfully dry. Automatically he moved to stand up, intending to fetch some water from the replicator, but as he did so he made the further discovery that his legs didn’t want to support him.
“Hey, easy now,” said Kira, catching his arm as he dropped back into his chair. “You’ve only just come round.” She smiled sadly, patting his hand, and added, “I know I’m a hypocrite, but don’t go pushing yourself too fast. Just sit for a bit.”
And that was largely how the rest of his afternoon went by: a series of gentle touches, sad smiles, and entreaties for him to “take things easy” – not that he was able to do much else. The other senior officers and his medical staff took turns in sitting with him, in some unspoken (or possibly organised, he supposed) agreement not to leave him on his own. Once he’d noticed the pattern, he felt as though he ought to protest at the treatment, but he didn’t have the energy. And, in truth, he welcomed the distractions; being able to focus on the superficial chatter of friends – and even the less superficial feelings of his own inadequacy and helplessness – allowed him to keep the ache in his chest distant and hollow.
But although Julian never sank back into quite the same stupor as before, he continued to feel strangely disconnected from the world around him. He wondered if there was something wrong with him; no-one else seemed to have been incapacitated by the loss of their Chief of Operations, yet here he was, still cowering under the safety of a blanket hours after it had happened.
A yawn overtook him out of nowhere, and Jadzia, who was currently serving her third stint in the neighbouring chair, stopped her monologue to assess him.
“We were waiting for you to suggest it, but, well, maybe it’s time you go back to your quarters? Try to get some rest?” she said, uncharacteristically cautious. “And it’s probably time you got changed and had a shower?”
With a jolt, Julian realised he was still in the same uniform he’d been wearing when Odo had summoned him to the bar. There had been no time to waste, he simply hadn’t had the seconds to spare to cover up before surgery – and afterwards, well… he hadn’t done much of anything. At Jadzia’s words, his whole body was suddenly possessed with an itching need to get clean, and he wondered how the thought had not once crossed his mind, when the knees of his trousers – as he was now distressingly aware – were stiff with blood.
He nodded jerkily, and carefully got to his feet, his urgency tempered with a strong desire to reach his quarters on his own two feet. Finding his balance took more concentration than he would have liked, and it was only after that he noticed how Jadzia was hovering, as though waiting for him to fall. He didn’t, though, and so set off to the habitat ring with as much haste as he could allow himself, Jadzia accompanying him through the corridors.
His clothes felt increasingly constrictive, as though they were shrinking as he walked, pressing against his skin. Unbidden, the sensation of a sticky wetness spread across his hands. Although he knew they were perfectly clean, he couldn’t stop himself from wiping them against his thighs, regardless of the fact that it didn’t help a bit.
Upon entering his quarters, Julian headed straight for the refresher, allowing the frantic need to scrub every part of his body one, two, three times, to take over completely. But as he let the water wash the bubbles off, he noticed the steady pressure on his skin was considerably soothing, and found himself content to sit there for just a little longer. He realised that, for the first time in hours, he was entirely alone, and with that thought, the ache in his chest loosened, setting every emotion that had been trapped inside his heart free.
It was almost a relief. The numbness that had been overwhelming him was now lost to feelings that made far more sense: sadness and despair and anger and grief. Miles was dead because of some Klingon, because Julian hadn’t been quick enough, because Miles had forgotten to repair the stasis field, because sometimes the world just made no sense. The tears that finally poured out of him were unsurprising, and, head buried in his knees, water streaming over him, he wept for the loss of his friend.