stigmaofsuccess | PSL: Post-DF for Beverly

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PSL: Post-DF for Beverly

Waking up in the camp, on that small, cold cot was a nightmare. Despite assurances that no one ever remembered their time in the Fleet, Julian could, flashes and hints, his enhanced brain refusing to let go of what it had experienced.

There was no time after that for thinking on it. Everything was go, invasions and deaths and horror and then plunging through the wormhole into the safety, comparatively, of the assembled Alpha Quadrant Fleet.

By the time Julian got out of his debriefing, all he wanted was a shower and bed. But when he got to his quarters, all his belongings had been rifled, moved, different smells and different things and Julian balked.

He went to his office, where at least it felt like less of a personal violation and showered there before settling behind his desk. He had slightly over a month of information to catch up on and he doubted he'd be sleeping.

He toyed with messaging the Enterprise.

He didn't. He remembered but Beverly? Almost certainly didn't.

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Over the past few years, Beverly has been having strange dreams... of another fleet, another starship, like and yet so completely unlike the Enterprise. In the beginning, she barely even remembered them, and if she did, she chalked them up to nothing more than the usual dream distortions of reality. However, as they've become more frequent and more detailed... it's starting to feel like something more than that. Especially once the images crop up even when she's awake.

There's Deanna, of course. Repressed memories, she had said, with understandable confusion. What you're describing sounds like a repressed memory.

It isn't until the Enterprise is docked at Deep Space Nine that she has a real breakthrough. Dr. Julian Bashir, CMO. Something tells her that she has to see him, that he knows what's happening to her. It makes no sense, but she can't shake the feeling, so as soon as she's off duty, she makes her way to the station's infirmary. When she sees him, sitting at his desk, she stops in her tracks.

He was there. In that other fleet.

"Jul--- Dr. Bashir?" Oh god, it's probably all in your head, Beverly, don't call him Julian. "I apologize for interrupting but... may I speak with you?"

Edited 2015-09-23 02:14 (UTC)

Julian hears her voice and he hears what she calls him, even though she corrects it, reverts to something less familiar, and it's everything he needs to know to tell him that she remembers.

He's not insane. She remembers it too.

He's up and out of his seat in a moment, spinning to face her. She's that bit older than when he knew her, her hair is different.

She was from years earlier than him in the Fleet. He's been back for a couple of days. For her...

"Beverly," he breathes out. "I remember it too."

Her first reaction is relief: relief that Julian knows what's going on, relief that she hasn't been going crazy, relief that he's safe...

And then that, oh that, opens up new memories, ones that have been locked away since she returned. All she can picture is his wan face, that desperate first hug. A wave of impossible guilt threatens to overwhelm her as she takes a step towards him. "Julian... I'm so sorry, I was going to - and then ... then everything, I forgot everything." Her eyes well with tears. "I promised myself I would come for you."

He looks almost exactly the same. Thin, pale, worn from a month of captivity. Almost exactly like he had when he first arrived.

"It was only two days for me," he finally says, voice soft. "I woke up two days ago from the Fleet, back in the camp. We, um, well, we got out. As you can see."

He hesitates, because he's still Julian Bashir, still awkward and uncomfortable, but this is Beverly, and then he steps in and hugs her, so she doesn't have to work out if she can do it or not.

"Two days..." she breathes, eyes wide, and then he's hugging her and she's pulling him tightly, protectively, to her. Not all her memories are back - no doubt it will still take some time for that - but all the fear she felt for him, the talks with Nat and Wrath and Cole, those have returned full force, as have the better memories of their time in the fleet together.

She pulls back from the hug, only to cup his face in her hands. For a moment, she doesn't say anything, just studies him, as if she's trying to memorize every inch of his face. "I was there for so long and I thought about you all the time, about what I was going to do when I got home, Prime Directive or no Prime Directive. I don't... I don't know how I could have forgotten."

"Two days." Virtually none of it spent here, on the station.

He holds her with that same desperation. Maybe even a little more, because it was worse before it was better. Crawling into that tiny space with Garak and trying to pull him out while the panic clawed his throat shut. Davik's death as they escaped, Worf near collapsing into fatal shock that even his Klingon physiology wouldn't come back from.

His room, lived in by something that pretended to be him for over a month, a no one noticed. It was, arguably, better at being him than he had ever managed to fake.

He lets her look and knows what she's seeing. He hasn't slept, he's stressed and over worked and he's tired in his bones. "Space-time has a way of smoothing itself out. Quantum reality studies suggest that in a situation like this, as the event which caused your reaction was yet to happen, it couldn't be something you reacted to, therefore it effectively didn't exist. Until it did."

She takes a deep breath, releases his face, and nods. Okay. Focus on something matter-of-fact, emotionless, like quantum theory. She can do that. At least it's more than she had ten minutes ago.

"I suppose that would explain it... certainly preferable to finding out I've been going crazy over the past few months."

"You're not going crazy. or if you are, we've shared the same delusion with several intervening years." Which means it is almost certainly not a delusion.

"I, haven't told anyone. Anything. I thought maybe I imagined it, dreamed it, I don't know. Something else." He wraps his arms around himself again, in that familiar, defensive posture he has.

He thought maybe it had finally happened. His mind had snapped under it all.

"There's no sign of the implant. I checked once I stabilised Worf and Martok."

"Worf!" Another stabbing sense of guilt runs through her. She had forgotten he was in the camp as well. "He's... he'll be okay?"

"He's fine," Julian assures her quickly. "It'll take more than the Dominion to slow him down."

Julian's good at lying. He's done it a lot. Worf was not in a good way, but he will be okay. That much is true.

"I had to rebuild a couple of organs, but his redundancies had all kicked in, just like they should."

She breathes out a sigh of relief. It's not the first time his redundant organs have saved him, as she knows all too well first hand. "Good. I'm sure he still needs some time to recover fully, so I don't want to disturb him, but if you wouldn't mind letting him know that I was here, and that I'm glad he's all right..."

"He's still in medical. I'm sure he would love to see you, though. Obviously, during slightly more regular hours." It's late, late enough that he should be in bed and she should probably be on the Enterprise.

Speaking of. "It's late. Shouldn't you be getting some rest, especially now you know you're not going crazy?"

"I could say the same for you. But yes, I should... don't think that I can though, that's the problem. Seeing you has triggered a lot more memories than I know how to sort through right now."

"I..." He looks off somewhere else. "I can't face my room yet. I'll probably get some sleep here." He has his arms around himself again, feeling uncomfortable just thinking about his room.

That provokes yet more forgotten memories, of Julian passed out in Blue Fish's clinic after several late nights of trying to develop the fungicide for the Nunnalis. She doesn't know exactly what is preventing him from going back to his quarters this time, but it bothers her, to think of him having to do that again, when he's finally home. "You know, the Enterprise isn't leaving until late tomorrow, if you needed a place to sleep..."

"I think my CO would have an issue with me running off to other ships to sleep," Julian says with a small smile. "I... I don't know I could tell anyone else. I told you that there was a Changeling, living on the station as me?"

He could probably dig up the memory, but it was easier to ask.

~~Don't worry, she could take Sisko.~~

Her eyes grow wide and shakes her head. A Changeling impostor! "No, you didn't. Or... if you did, I don't remember it yet. That's ... I'm so sorry, Julian." To finally come home and finding that some stranger has been occupying your life for you is beyond awful.

~~She probably could.~~

"Oh. Well, yes. I was taken by the Dominion and replaced, a month or so ago. Apparently no one was any the wiser to my replacement until Worf and Garak were taken prisoner and met me in the camp. It was only when we got a message back that they realised I wasn't me."

He shrugs a little, because he doesn't let himself feel things like anger too deeply.

He may not let himself feel anger, but that won't stop her from feeling it on his behalf. Just at the tip of her tongue are a barrage of questions: Why did the Changelings choose him? What was his replacement up to? And how the hell did no one notice?!

You didn't notice Jean-Luc's impostor either, not immediately.

She pushes that uncomfortable thought away and stops herself before any of her questions can come tumbling out. None of it will help Julian, not right now. "No wonder you don't want to go back to your quarters." She takes a deep breath. "I think we both need to decompress a bit. And I think I know just the thing to help: what would you say to a hot milk toddy?"

He'd have few answers. He can extrapolate why him, due to the station's position, his own position as the CMO, but it's just guess work.

He doesn't know why no one noticed. He was missing for a month and no one suspected a thing. "Miles joked that he should've realised it wasn't me, apparently it was far easier to get on with than I am."

It was a joke, and he smiles as he says it, but it doesn't reach his eyes. He knows Miles didn't mean anything cruel.

"I think that sounds wonderful, honestly."

She attempts to return the smile, but it falters before it can even begin to take hold. Knowing Miles, he didn't mean anything by it, yet it was still a hurtful thing to say. She's halfway inclined to go give Miles a piece of her mind, but instead she orders two hot toddies from the replicator (Triggering another memory, of how much she missed replicators back in the fleet) and sets them on his desk before taking a seat.

"Wrath painted you a mural, you know, on one of the walls of the Iskaulit. We didn't want anyone to forget."

Juilan sinks back into his own seat, taking the drink in both hands and sighing softly. "I didn't miss the lack of replicators on the fleet. Though we're encouraged to buy food and drink, not use our replicators. To support the local economy."

Her words cause a very slight hiccup of breath. "How was she, last you saw? Was she in a lot of pain, or were you able to help with the reconstruction of her spine?"

Beverly's face falls. "We got the pain under control, but those ports on her back... I never did get access to any proper surgical facilities. I suppose Atroma didn't want to chance us discovering a way to remove the augments."

"Almost certainly. I'm glad you got the pain under control. No one should be that accustomed to pain, not that they stop noticing it." Pain might be a bit different for him, but it still seems obscene to make someone suffer like those ports did.

"Had you reached the conclusion I did? They were part of a control mechanism to keep her agreeable and her memories suppressed by whatever regime she came from?"

She hesitates a moment, recalling what she'd seen of Wrath and Maine in Wrath's calibration. The war, the gaping holes in her memory, the feeling of uselessness. "She was a soldier... I never found out exactly what happened, why they decided to remove her memories but... I did see some of them."

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