"So, tell me, honestly, what do you think of Garak as my partner?" Julian looked up from his I'danian spice pudding and fixed his friend with an inquisitive eye.

"'S great. You'll make a lovely couple." Miles smiled, licking white sauce off one finger. It was evening and they were enjoying a late meal together and talking about all sorts of rubbish, as was their usual habit.

"Miles, seriously, what do you think?" Julian frowned and pushed the pudding aside.

"I think it's great. Honest."

"What sort of a thing is that to say? I thought we were best friends," Julian muttered indignantly.

"What are you talking about? I like the match. He's a bastard, and he needs to be a bastard, to rein you in. So he's perfect." Miles eyed the discarded pudding hungrily, wondering vaguely where Julian was going with this conversation.

"Well. Thank you so much." Was that real hurt in his voice? It was hard to tell with the doctor sometimes.

"What?" The chief squinted at his friend. No, he didn't look like aliens had taken over his brain. So what was he going on about?

"You're my best friend, you're supposed to hate anybody I get interested in," Julian pouted.

Ah, I see, Miles thought. One of those conversations coming up.

"I hated Melora Pazlar," Miles defended himself quickly.

"True," the doctor agreed, remembering the lovely lady who had shown him how to fly ...amongst other things.

"But then, I've always liked Dax," Miles mused, sneaking one hand casually towards the pudding bowl.

"Ah, but there you were being her friend, and hating me for her," Julian pointed out.

"I don't need to hate you on someone else's behalf, I hate you just fine on me own," Miles replied indignantly.

"Exactly," said Julian.

"Because I'm your friend," clarified Miles.

"Obviously," agreed the doctor.

"And I never said I liked Garak. I just happen to think you'll make a cute couple," Miles finished, almost getting hold of the dessert bowl as he did.

"Cute?!" Julian pulled the bowl away, glaring at his friend indignantly.

"As a matter of fact, I dislike Garak intensely," Miles continued, giving the pudding a wistful stare.

"What for? What's wrong with Garak?" Julian demanded, wrapping one long-fingered hand around his pudding bowl protectively.

"There, I knew that would please you," Miles chuckled. Julian and his circular conversations. He just knew what the doctor would say next...

"You hate my boyfriend, and you think that should please me?"

Bingo, thought O'Brien, then ran what Julian had just said back though his head. "Oh, Lord. Please don't call him your 'boyfriend.' That is too much."

"What, I should call him my sweet pumpkin pie hunk of man-lovin' instead?" Julian asked, fluttering his eyelashes wickedly.

"Don't be disgusting."

"And why's he got to be a bastard to 'rein me in,' then?" Julian pressed.

"Because only a bastard could stand between you and all those women and not buckle under with a guilty conscience. With any luck, Garak will prove the perfect foil for you, my overly emotional friend, to be dramatic at. (As Major Kira once put it so well.) Besides, a bastard won't be all sickeningly romantic like you're wont to be. Two syrupy twerps would probably clear the station." Julian was glaring at him by the end of this.

"Garak is plenty sickeningly romantic! He happens to call me 'snookums' in private," he said crossly.

"He doesn't!" Miles' eyes went round as shiplights.

"He does." Julian chewed his lip and looked worried. "I've been thinking of calling him 'cuddle-bug' in retaliation. What do you think?"

"Cuddle-bug. Hmmm. Yeah, go with it. That'll teach the Cardie bastard to mess with my friend!" Miles agreed.

"That's what I thought. And don't call him a Cardie bastard, it's derogatory." Julian pushed the pudding over and Miles grabbed it happily.

"Yes, Julian," he said, around a mouthful of pudding.

"So, what do you think of the idea of me dating Garak?" Julian asked casually.

"I hate it," Miles answered promptly.

"Ah, good. You're learning." Julian smiled.

"Stop playing with it and put it on," Julian snapped impatiently. Garak held the yellow-tinged translucent goo up to the light, scooped a little out on his fingers and sniffed it.

"Hm, odorless. What is it for?" he inquired, looking down at his supine friend, lying on the bed with his tunic pulled up around his armpits. Delectable.

"It's to prevent stretch marks. Now hurry up and put it on, I'm getting cold." Julian sounded grumpy, which Garak supposed he had every right to be.

"You don't have any stretch marks," he pointed out mildly as he began to smooth the goo into the round tummy lump gently.

"That's because I've been using the gel," Julian told him crossly, swatting at a wrinkle in the bed's linen. Garak made a silent 'ah' noise and continued with his ministrations, doing a thorough job and not allowing himself to indulge in caressing the younger man's body. Julian was surely not in the mood.

When he was all done, the tailor wiped his hands and pulled the tunic down, patting everything back into place. Then he helped Julian to sit upright again.

"Thank you," Julian murmured, looking down at his hands. Garak put one finger under the doctor's chin and tilted his head back to look into his eyes.

"It is not a chore for me, helping you, my dear. I enjoy it."

Julian smiled a little wobbly at him and nodded. Then he allowed Garak to help him stand and, using the Cardassian's proximity, stole a lengthy hug.

The tailor didn't need to ask what the hug was for, he simply held on, gently rocking and running soothing hands over the doctor's back. When they parted, he reached out and linked their hands. It was good to be with Julian, no matter what his mood was.

Quark carefully applied the last finishing touches to his nails. While hu-mons used paints and glitter to change the color of their fingernails, Ferengi preferred tints and polish to simply enhance their natural hues. For instance, Quark had just applied a coat of Hessian blue, close to his own nails shade but with just a hint of shimmer added to give that healthy glow.

"Nice," said Julian Bashir, current owner of a very sweet pile of latinum of which Quark was trying to figure out how to get an extra five percent. As the hu-mon took a seat at the bar, Quark blew gently over the surface of his nails to set them and sneaked the doctor an appraising look.

"I like this color. It gives that subtle hint of wealth without being too ostentatious," he said, admiring the polished finish he had achieved.

Julian regarded the Ferengi's lush multi-layered jacket, rich silk shirt and large bejeweled button cover. His lips twitched only the minutest fraction as he suppressed his mirth and managed to wisely nod his head in agreement instead.

"Things going well at the gaming table?" Quark asked casually, as if he didn't know Julian's latest haul down to the last Romulan Ruble.

"Oh, quite well, thank you. Um, you wouldn't happen to know where..."

"O'Brien's doing a transformer upgrade on level two and Garak's been held up by a Bolian business woman - he should be here soon," Quark supplied smugly.

"My word, you are in touch with the goings on round the station, aren't you?" Julian fluttered his eyelashes in that way he had that was mostly unconscious and entirely endearing.

Quark smirked, then nodded at the entrance where Garak had just entered the bar. As the Cardassian came towards them, he was joined by Odo.

"Odo," Garak greeted the station's law enforcement officer firmly.

"Good day, Constable," Quark called out, baring his jagged teeth in an approximation of a welcoming grin.

"Garak," Odo returned the Cardassian's greeting, ignoring Quark's friendly wave. "Did the lady settle on the black trim or the white?"

"The black, thank goodness. Ah, Julian my dear, I have some bad news. Miles will be a little late for dinner, I'm afraid. We shall have to wait for him."

"The relay transponder again, I suppose," Odo mused, watching as the tailor finished taking Julian's hand and pressing it close to his heart before he took his seat at the bar.

"What else?" Garak mused, straightening his jacket with careful moves.

Julian wondered if they were doing this to impress him or infuriate Quark. Cardassians had enhanced hearing; needless to say Odo's auditory skills were fantastically so. Whatever their intentions, it had worked, on both accounts.

Quark harrumphed loudly as he purposely stomped down the end of the bar to serve other, less know-it-all customers. Julian felt his cheeks burn with a pleased blush as the lingering heat of Garak's body stayed impressed on his hand, where the Cardassian had held it to his heart. It had been such a lovely, romantic gesture, he couldn't help but smile in that loopy way that let everyone around him know he was in love.

While Julian sat moonstruck Odo and Garak exchanged silent communication. A lift of a brow, the narrowing of eyes and Odo gave a swift nod before excusing himself and hurrying down towards the cargo bay.

Business dealt with, Garak turned his full attention back to his lover. It was a supreme effort on his part not to place his arms protectively around the younger man's shoulders. There was no more secure site on the station right now than Quark's bar; more than half the customers right now were here to keep an eye on Julian. There hadn't been a major brawl since his corner card table had been set up. Still, it felt open. And Julian did take little jaunts away from the gaming table now and then, to 'stretch his legs.' Infuriating man.

Julian reached out covertly and touched Garak's arm with one finger. Garak looked at him and smiled. Their touches for now might have to be fairly brief and secret, but soon this time would end. Then they could hold hands openly, Garak could kiss Julian's hand in greeting if he so desired. He was looking forward to that time very much.

"Want to talk about it?" Julian asked, seeing the veiled sadness in his eyes. But Garak smiled with sudden inspired wickedness, then resumed an even more hangdog expression.

"I was just thinking about the black trim that trader brought today. I have several meters left over and I was wondering if...."

"No. Positively not. I am not wearing that smock into the labor ward." Julian turned rebellious eyes upon his lover.

"But it's a tradition!" Garak exclaimed, throwing his hands wide.

"No, absolutely not!"

"Just look at my revised patterns...." Garak asked reasonably, reaching into his jacket for his PADD.

"Garak!" Julian whined.

Oh, good, everything's going well with them, then, Miles thought, leaning against the entry way for a second to appreciate the bickering duo, before going to throw himself into the fray. Never change, he thought fondly as he approached the combat zone. Don't either of you change.

"Hello, Miles, you're looking chipper today," Julian greeted his friend. The doctor was taking a brief walk around the promenade as a break from yet another stunning gambling win when he spied his friend coming towards him, practically radiating glee. Miles had the biggest grin Julian could remember seeing plastered on his face, a real jawbreaker.

"I've just had good news, terrific news! Keiko's coming back to the station! Her work's all done and she wants to be here for the birth. Isn't that great?" Miles could hardly contain his excitement. He'd been so worried, but now every thing would be all right. He felt so happy that any minute now he might just break down and start dancing a jig.

"That is good news," Julian said, forcing a smile. He tried to look pleased, while on the inside, his panic switches began flipping over. No! No, no, no! Not now! Miles ... Can't you see ... No. I mustn't lose it now. I should be happy for my friend. See how happy he is? Just suck it up and deal with it later, Jules.

"Are you all right?" Miles immediately became concerned at how quiet Julian was.

"Yes, I'm fine. Just overdid it a little with the walking. I think I'll go take a rest in the infirmary and annoy Nurse Hortak for awhile. Go tell Dax about Keiko coming back, I know she'll want to be told." Please, please go tell Dax.

"Do you need a hand?"

"No, no. I'll be all right."

"Well, if you're sure you don't need me...all right, then. You take care," Miles warned, then trotted off to the science lab.

The infirmary was just across the way and Morou was at the door to greet him, his emergency alert monitor beeping softly in her hand. Garak jogged up at the same time and helped take Julian through to an examination room.

Bashir had by this time lost it completely. Tears were running down his cheeks in a stream. He was making odd choking sounds in place of sobs, as if he was trying to swallow them and not quite succeeding.

"What is it? Julian, can you tell me what it is?" Morou leaned over him with a scanner, frowning at the readouts.

"P-panic attack," Julian bit out, angry with himself as usual for succumbing to this weakness. Garak had quietly taken his free hand and held it, the other pressed tight to Julian's belly.

"Julian, what caused it? It's all right. No matter what it is, we won't think it's trivial." The last panic attack had been when he had accidentally been jammed in a turbo lift with a bunch of teenage Andorian tourists. He'd been a little squashed and the anxiety took off from there. Later, he'd felt like a complete fool.

"M...Miles says...Keiko's coming home." He didn't have enough air to breathe, let alone talk. Why wouldn't people just leave him alone?

"And this made you think of what?" Morou applied a hypo to his wrist. Julian winced, then relaxed as the injection did its work.

"Nightmares," he murmured, then turned his head away in confused shame. Why was this so hard? His arms and legs prickled with tension; they felt as heavy as lead. Reality was floating, and the only thing real was his fear.

"Ah, yes, the nightmares." Garak turned to a confused-looking Morou. "Julian and the chief have...an arrangement. They share a bed so that Chief O'Brien can check on Julian during the night. If...when Mrs. O'Brien returns, she will want to stay in her own bed and Julian will have to cope on his own."

Julian moaned in agreement, that was it. He needed Miles' presence in order to sleep.

Garak hunched down and looked directly into his worried eyes. "My dear, I hope you remember the words I spoke to you the other day, for I meant them sincerely. You won't have to handle things on your own. I will always be there."

Julian nodded. He knew it, and it was sweet of Garak to offer, but he wanted Miles for this. Needed him. It was hard to explain, so he merely gripped Elim's hand tighter and looked miserable.

Eventually Doctor Bashir's heart rate came down, his breathing became easier as the panic receded. Soon he couldn't even define why he'd been so worried. All that was left of the panic attack was the embarrassment and a terrible feeling of being out of control.

All that worrying for nothing, thought Julian. When asked, Keiko had readily agreed to sleep in the single bed while Miles stayed in with him.

Keiko still got up and joined her husband to help calm him down after a bad dream. And she thought Kukalaka adorable. Julian had expected that, women often took a liking to his bear. Leeta had even taken him home with her when they broke up. It was Jake and Nog that got him back. He'd never asked how, but was simply grateful to them for doing so.

A few days after Keiko had returned to DS9, Morou redid the calculations, contacted some specialists, and regretfully journeyed to the O'Brien household to inform Julian that it was time. Garak and Worf had been in the room visiting when she declared this and both had worn identical looks of horror.

"Not for that," Julian grumbled and the other two men sagged with relief.

Julian didn't, though. It was time for him to become bedridden, as he had always known he would. But there were three weeks to go and, while the thought of doing nothing all day sounded good, his recent exclusion from infirmary work had shown that he couldn't cope with it. He voiced his worries to Morou as soon as his visitors had left.

"Time for those sedatives O'Brien wanted you to go on in the beginning." She smiled brightly. This, she knew, was going to be the hardest trial of the pregnancy yet. She prayed sedatives would be enough to help him through it.

Julian sat on the special shower chair and waited while Miles went out and ordered up another size of clothing. His weight just kept fluctuating up and down. Wrapped in three separate towels, all Julian could see of himself in the bathroom mirror was his face. Unwinding the towels as best he could, Julian had a look at his changing body.

Well, the tummy looked huge, as he'd expected. It wasn't really as big as all that, the rest of him made it look big by being so thin. And he was thin, thinner than he had ever been. He couldn't stand to look at his legs. He'd had nice legs, he'd always thought. Now they were the same shape all the way down. His ankles had swollen too, so it really was all the way down.

I look like a stick insect with a hernia, he thought. When Miles came back, Julian said he had gotten a little soap in his eyes, but Miles knew he was lying.

Jadzia smoothed a wrinkle in the bed linen, wishing she could smooth away the frown of pain from Julian's brow as easily.

"Nearly there," Nurse Jabara murmured. It was time for the daily introduction of nutrients for the baby. This was normally done in the infirmary, away from prying eyes. But as Julian could no longer move around, the nursing staff now came to him.

His friends had been quite shocked at the procedure, not having realized how the extra nutrition that the baby needed got there. They had assumed it came from Julian, been introduced through his diet. But although that may have worked in a normal ectopic pregnancy, this was a far more precarious situation.

The nurse was using a portable imaging machine to place a long needle through the doctor's abdomen and into the isolated portion of intestine the placenta had been attached to. The needle was linked up to a bag of liquid nutrients, which had been carefully prepared to supplement the growing baby's needs.

Unfortunately the area being injected had recently shown signs of infection. Julian had a temperature and they were using a cold blanket to try to bring that down, but he still had beads of sweat standing out on his forehead and his hands felt clammy.

One of those hands was being held by Jadzia. It tightened slightly in her grasp and she looked over into pain-filled eyes.

"Mother," he whispered, eyes unfocused as he looked into another time and place. "Mother, please make it stop. I don't want to be better than anyone else...please, please make it stop." A silent tear escaped down his cheek, echoed immediately by one running down the Trill's.

"Soon, Julian. We only have a little more to go. I promise. It will end soon." She made her voice as steady as she could, for his sake. What happened to you, Julian? She blinked away more tears as Julian turned back to stoically look up at the ceiling.

"He's said similar things before," Jabara said quietly. "We think he must have been in an accident or suffered some serious illness as a child." She replaced the empty fluid bag with a full one. "Although, when Morou looked, she couldn't find any reference to it."

A mystery. A mystery about the man who loved mysteries. At one time the curious Trill would have fixated upon the facts and gone after a solution. Now, she just wished her friend's pain would end, and he could be well again.

The inflammation refused to go and eventually Julian had to be floated over to the infirmary by grav sled for treatment. Nurse Junda had been handed the job, but partway there an emergency call had come in and Julian suggested she pop him in one of the empty quarters along the hall while she attended to it. She could always send somebody else back for him if she got caught up.

He used his medical override and gained access to an empty apartment off the corridor. Nurse Junda popped him in, then hurried away and Julian closed his eyes to try for a well-deserved nap. He didn't get it.

There was a womp! and the room pulled. Julian felt his heart lurch - not another invasion! A feeling of pressure grew behind his eyes and several small items from around the room launched themselves through the air. With inevitable slowness, the bed was also picked up and began to sail towards one end of the apartment.

By this time the emergency monitor had well and truly kicked in, delivering the strong sedative depsidmine into his blood stream. Within seconds he was feeling no pain, literary and psychologically. With mildly astonished eyes he saw that a great tear had appeared in the wall he was moving towards. Shielded by a drug-induced calm, he became aware of a high-pitched squealing noise and flattened down on the bed as more and more debris flew past his slower-moving bed.

The attached grav sled was actually attempting to stabilize him as it entered the maelstrom. On the other side of the wall was a long hall, its open space alive with pin-wheeling desks, chairs, wardrobes and dozens of loose bits of unidentified junk. The sled did a stately turn, but managed to stay upright.

Gosh, thought the doctor as he began to levitate a little away from the bedsheets. An accelerating stylus slithered down one arm, leaving a trail of red behind it.

I'm bleeding, Julian mused. I don't want to bleed. I'm supposed to stay safe...there's a reason... But he couldn't remember what it was. The end of the hall was now approaching fast and beyond it lay another room and the source of that hideous squealing noise.

The noise grew into a roar, but before he reached the other opening, there was a ferocious sounding snap! - his ears popped and abruptly everything going one way now went another.

Oh, bother, thought Julian Bashir, as gravity reasserted itself and he and the other airborne items all crashed to the ground.

Somewhere on the station, Kira Nerys felt the blast and knew it had to do with the lunatic who had murdered so many of her cell members from the Resistance. The lunatic who was now determined to kill her as well. She soon discovered her hunch to be true. Kira's nemesis had struck again, using a bomb to take out her quarters, incidentally killing two of her fellow ex-freedom fighters, both close personal friends. They had come to the station to offer assistance and protection, if necessary, after they learned of the murders of their other cell members. Now they were dead, too.

Moments before the blast, Pak Dorran had been walking down a corridor towards the major's quarters, also having heard of the slaughter of fellow freedom fighters, also willing to help Kira track who ever was responsible. She, too, had heard a womp! and a high squealing wail. The wall besides her had flexed, then part of it had ripped inwards. Her body had been sucked towards the small opening, her head and shoulder being pulled through before it grew too narrow and she became stuck. Thank the Prophets for wide hips!

It was then, with the small part of her mind not gibbering in abject fear, that she noticed the grav sled with its pregnant cargo flying past.

Then the pull had become unbearable; she felt as if her hips would break from it. Her eyes felt like they were being sucked out of her head. Survival took away any other thoughts she might have had about the fate of DS9's doctor. It wasn't until an emergency force field had been slapped over the breach and Kira had shown up to help free of her entrapment that the memory surfaced again.

She leaned over, catching her breath as behind her Kira, dry eyed and professional as always, outlined the damage to the station's internal sensors. Several inner rooms near the major's quarters had collapsed, wall after wall giving way as the vacuum increased its power. Runabouts were scanning the area outside the breached hull, searching for bodies.

When Pak told her of the possibility of Doctor Bashir being in the rubble Kira tapped her security badge and a rescue team quickly assembled. Pak's shoulders and face were covered in bruises, but the tough Bajoran vowed to help find the human doctor's body and return it to his friends. Then she was going to tear this station apart and find whoever had done this.

Others soon joined the search, as their emergency duties ended and time allowed. Keiko stalked the ruined rooms, her smaller stature no impediment to her turning over wardrobes and desks in her frantic search. Garak laid out a thorough search pattern and diligently investigated every corner and shadowed pile of rubble that might conceivably hide the slight human's body. Last to arrive, face as pinched and grim as any there had seen it, Miles used logic to decide which was the most likely route the grav sled would have taken and searched along its length.

One of the searchers was a Rigeon cargo loader called Homrousan. He had had his eye healed months ago by the doctor. The infection in his sinuses had gone and now he put his people's awesome scenting ability to use. Sniffing the air delicately he soon picked up the cinnamon fragrance he had first noticed upon meeting the human doctor.

A cursing Ferengi briefly blocked his way, but Homrousan stepped around him and picked up the trail again. With unwavering steps, he homed in on a virtual mountain of light debris that had gathered around an object caught against some pipes.

"Here!" Homrousan called excitedly. "He is here!" With swift movements of his short but powerful forearms, the Rigeon began clearing away the litter. The others converged on the spot and the edge of a grav bed was soon uncovered. With a little more effort, a large portable upturned bathing pool was lifted off. Julian's slightly unfocused eyes blinked out at them from the nest of loose debris on the bed.

"You missed the carpet ride," he said.

Major Kira and Pak Dorran went hunting for the man responsible for the blast. Tracking him off station, they discovered a Cardassian who had lost friends and family to the freedom fighters' terrorist activities. Faced with the consequence of her past actions, Kira had to weigh her guilt against the present danger. Though Pak was all for killing the man here and now, Kira decided enough bloodshed had already occurred and arrested the Cardassian for murder. On the way back to DS9, he killed himself while trying to escape.

It was laughing at him from the corner of the room. High up on its shelf, covered in germ-bearing dust, there sat the rusty bolt Miles had kept as a memento of his time aboard the Enterprise. The bolt was filthy. And he was going to clean it.

This is it, old chap, he told himself, as he deftly disabled the monitors, unhooked two drips and the airline under his nose. You've finally gone nuts, and over what? A damned ornament Miles keeps to remind himself of happier days. It can't be that dusty, anyhow. Keiko keeps this place clean enough to eat off of.

Standing upright at last on the chair he reached for the bolt, but it was just out of his grasp. He stretched, determined to gain his prize. The chair tipped and the object of Julian's desire came into reach, just as someone yelled blue murder from the doorway.

Caught up in his triumph Julian held his prize aloft, but the elation was short lived, as the chair continued to tilt. See, I knew this would happen, Julian complained silently.

As the ground raced to meet him, he had time to hope the fall would be fast and fatal, because he really couldn't face everyone after this.

"Gotcha!" With agility and speed he didn't know he had, Miles O'Brien crossed the room and caught the rapidly descending doctor before he hit the ground. They both grunted with impact, Miles using their momentum to swing the doctor around and back onto the bed.

"Thank you," Julian panted.

Lying practically on top of him, Miles panted back, "You're welcome."

Two hours later, Julian screamed as the placenta started tearing away from his intestinal wall, and baby O'Brien struggled to make his way into the world, one week early.

There was arguing coming from the other room. Julian felt a distinct sense of deja vu. Around him his physicians scurried in confusing disarray. Doctors Mortimer, Lynwittica, Brown and Morou were there in person; half a dozen extra specialists were there via subspace.

Baby O'Brien would be making history today. He had survived beyond the odds, with only the barest support mechanisms in place. Pediatric doctors around the quadrant were watching on long-range with fascination.

The squabbling outside the operating room became louder and Morou went to a corner of the room and began talking with someone urgently over her comm badge. Soon the voice of Major Kira could be heard next door doing her own brand of mediation, i.e. outshouting the lot of them. It seemed there was some debate as to who would make it into the operating theatre to be with Julian.

A little while later the lucky three appeared, all dressed in medical scrubs, shivering from the decontamination chamber they had passed through and the lower temperature of the operating room.

From the doorway the whines of the less fortunate could still be heard, the most strident being Quark and Jadzia Dax. They would have to join the other medical staff and interested parties watching the long-range. They were quite annoyed by it.

"Hello, Miles, Keiko, Garak. Come to watch the excitement have you?" Julian's gaze was only slightly unfocused; Lynwittica didn't want to go with the heavy sedatives until after the umbilical cord was cut.

"We live for excitement," Keiko replied, her eyes glued to the preparations going on beyond the privacy screen. Miles was watching, too, not liking the look of some of the sharper-looking implements at all.

Garak picked his way through the four-deep ranks of monitors and eventually reached Julian's other side. He took the bowl of water and cloth from a startled nurse and began wiping down the pregnant man's heated face.

"Hello, my dear," he said, taking one of Julian's hands and squeezing it, before gently wiping that with the cloth, too.

Julian smiled at him, then stiffened. He held himself rigid as half a dozen monitors went off around the room. Doctors scrambled like ants in a kicked-over ant nest.

"This is it, then." Mortimer smiled, rubbing his hands together. Morou threw him a disgusted look. Lynwittica stepped up to Bashir's side and asked for a handheld laser. He lowered it into place and was just beginning to cut into the skin when Keiko and Miles jerked back as one and hid behind the privacy screen. They had both turned a little green.

Miles reached for Julian's hand to hold, but found that Garak had already appropriated both of them. The two men met each other's eyes, both transmitting death rays at the other. Miles tried to tug a hand free, Garak resisted.

"Stop acting like children!" Keiko hissed at them, making Garak let go of one hand with a sharp slap at his knuckles, then giving it to her husband. Cautiously, she went up to the privacy screen and peeked around it once more. She reached back and took her husband's free hand in her own.

That is mostly how they stayed, Miles holding Keiko and Julian's hands, translating any pressure he felt from one to the other, a human jump wire. He judged the progress of the operation by how pale the side of his wife's face got, and how painful was her grip on him.

Lynwittica had made the first long, slow incision, the sweat from his brow being mopped furiously by Morou. There was the danger of accidentally cutting the child in this procedure, despite the monitors set up to warn if he got to close. The Trill was nervous as hell.

Miles and Garak held Julian's hands, both feeling grim and helpless. The words 'fifty-nine percent' had never held such weight for either of them before. Both men had experienced enough of life to know that no matter how right it was for Julian and the baby to pull through, how cosmically balanced it would be that the young man's gamble be repaid with success, there were no guarantees. And while their hearts told them Julian had to make it through, their ids pulled on dark glasses and prepared to mourn.

Julian began tossing his head restlessly on the pillow, the pain cutting through the light medication he had taken.

To hell with id, Garak thought savagely. He shall live!

"This is your fault," Garak hissed at O'Brien. Oddly, the words helped Miles to relax. That was just the sort of thing he expected to hear at a birthing, so everything must be going to plan. "Can't you do something about the pain?" Garak snapped at the nurse, making Miles feel even better. All he needed to hear was a call for 'I want medication now, damn it!' and things would just have to turn out right.

Garak, meanwhile, had five minutes of technical babble that boiled down to 'painkillers would be bad for the baby, sir' spouted at him from the nurse he had accosted. To the vacuum with the baby, Garak thought acidly, Julian is in pain now! But he kept the words to himself. He'd vowed not to say anything like that aloud ever again, and he would keep to that vow.

The minutes ticked by. Lynwittica was replaced by Brown, then by Mortimer. Julian became disorientated, fretted at being held down, came back to himself, wept with the pain, threw himself into a trance, sublimated his pain into Miles and Garak by squeezing their hands until the bones ground together, then screamed bloody murder as the baby boy was at last torn from his body.

The wail of lusty lungs taking their first breath soon echoed around the room, and after a quick scan while the umbilical was tied off, the bloodied infant was carried over to his anxious mother. Keiko held her son for the first time in her arms, and softly told him his name.

Tears of happiness leaking down her face, she turned to show him to her husband, then held him low and let Julian see him as well.

"He's called Elvis Subatoi O'Brien," Miles told him, beaming at his new son with pride. Julian, too, was grinning. He couldn't believe how wonderful it felt just to see the little chap, even after all that pain.

"Elvis?" he grinned at his friend. Miles nodded happily. It had taken some doing, but Keiko had weakened when he told her Julian approved of the name, too. Well, he hadn't hated the name, so it was nearly the same thing. Almost.

"And you two will share the same middle name," Miles added hastily. "Something to look forward to, him blaming you for all the teasing he gets at school."

"If he's wise, he'll keep it a secret...like...I ...did..." Julian's face scrunched as a powerful wave of agony hit him.

"You had better go now," the nurse said, indicating the way into the prepared side room. "They still have to remove the placenta and there will be six or so hours of surgery after that."

"More surgery?" Miles asked, looking concerned.

"Just to place his organs and things back in the right order. Now come along, they're giving him the heavy sedatives already. He won't even know you're gone."

Keiko and Miles leaned over and kissed Julian's cheek before turning to follow the nurse out the room. Dazed as he was, Julian felt a part of his soul tear off and follow them out, never to return.

Quietly Garak withdrew into himself, drawing his presence inwards, closer than a cloak. It was a technique he had learned in military school, one he'd mastered above all other talents. The nurse completely failed to register that he was still in the room and let him be.

"You've got to teach me how you do that," Julian murmured tiredly, fighting the sedative he could feel pumping around his body like a warm snake trying to cut him off from the world. He was suddenly terribly afraid that if he allowed himself to pass out now, he might never wake up again.

"One day I will teach you how it is done. But not right now. Julian, it will be all right, I'm here, I won't let anything happen. Let go. When you wake up, I'll still be here, and the pain will have stopped. Let go...."

Julian's eyes closed and he fell into the sweet, oblivious arms of sleep.

I got into this because the O'Briens needed my help. My gift to them, freely given, with love. I did it despite my long-ago vow to never have any children of my own. My decision was logical, both my vow, which I made because the alternative was too cruel, and my decision to help, which saved this little fellow's life.

Now I'm not sure I made the right decision, either time. I would have liked children of my own. And saving the O'Briens' baby just might kill me.

I'll never tell them what it has cost me, this pregnancy. I've had to look at aspects of myself I've never explored before. Fear, need, humiliation, greed. Oh, deadly, unforgivable greed.

You see, I don't know if I can live with having to give this little chap up. It hurts so badly sometimes I almost wish...well, it's a little dramatic of me, but I wish that I could die. Just - cease. Not have to go on with this gaping wound in my heart anymore.

I thought I had prepared myself, thought this would be so much easier than it is. Yet here I am, wishing I could hold that sweet baby boy in my arms and never let go.

Without Garak by my side I would be a complete mess right now. You see, I wish I'd never gone through with any of this, and at the same time I thank Allah that I have.

Oh, Elvis. What you do to me....