Hi. This is in answer to the challenge, "What if you were really transported to 
DS9 as yourself--and be realistic". I thought, how would *anybody* *really* 
react to something like that...?

(One thing. If I personally, as me, were dumped into the DS9 milieu, I would 
waste no time worrying about whether I had gone crazy but go at once to Doctor 
Bashir and ask him to please cure me of several intractable physical ailments 
that our level of medical science can't do much with. But that just really takes 
the everyfan approach out of this, even more than it already has been, so I 
decided to assume that those things aren't a problem. Otherwise, I think this is 
a fair representation of what I'd do. :)

To Fred and other Wesley fans: I make a pretty unflattering remark about Wes in 
here. I just wanted to specify that I have no problem with Wil Wheaton; I've 
seen him do some excellent work in other projects.

With the worst pun I've made in a while, here's my "treatment" of Jen's 
scenario...
**************************
SHOCK TREATMENT
**************************
I clicked on "save" to proudly bring my five hundredth BLTS story home to 
roost--I think it was "You Better Believe the Honeymoon's Over" by Jen Chapman, 
which had given Helmboy's "Traveling Man" series a hard run for the title in 
terms of hilarity--

And hit deckplate at about mach six. I emitted a noise my mother would not have 
cared to hear from me and was promptly stepped on by a horse. I tried to roll 
out of the way but I hit a wall headfirst. Several people's suspicions about the 
head in question were confirmed, fortunately outside their notice, by a hollow 
gonging clang. 

"Are you all right?" Someone was hauling me to my feet, an event for which I was 
not fully prepared, and I just sort of hung there until I could get purchase 
against the wall. 

A woman in a REALLY tight brown-and-blue catsuit and nothing else but a big 
silver earring was holding me by the arms and examining my face. Her nose was 
broken. "Sorry about that, but you came out of nowhere," she was saying. "Did 
you fall out a service duct?"

"What?" I responded glibly.

"Hey--Ezri, what happened to your spots?"

"What?"

"I think we better get you to the infirmary." She tapped a pin on her suit--I 
hadn't noticed it at first--and said "Nurse Luma to Doctor Bashir. I'm 
bringing--"

"WHAT!" I screamed, and pulled away from her, looking frantically around. 
Oh my God. And I'd never done acid in my life..."Really, I'm fine, just got the 
wind knocked out of me--"

"Oh, you're not Ezri...at least let me check you out, you hit your head pretty 
hard. Doctor, disregard." She grabbed my head, turned my face up toward a lamp 
and peered in my eyes one at a time, and I had to sort of twist my neck to get 
loose. 

"I'm okay! Really!"

"Why are there pieces of plastic in your eyes? Are they prosthetic?"

"Yeah, yeah they are, look, um, I gotta get moving, I'm late--sorry I uh, fell 
in on you like that." I cast about for an escape route and bolted down a cross 
corridor. When I seemed fairly private, I stopped and sat down against the wall 
to hyperventilate.

"It's a damn good thing," I muttered, "that I wasn't web-surfing in my 
underwear." As it happened, I was wearing a fisherman's sweater I could have 
used as a tent and some dark cotton leggings with suede moccasins. Lucky it 
wasn't less.

'Okay,' I tried to coach myself to calm. 'I just gotta figure out...how I got 
here, so...hell, I can't even balance my checkbook! This is hopeless...what if I 
get found? They won't send me back! Not with knowledge of the future! Though I'm 
willing to bet this ain't my future they won't have any way to be sure of 
that...can't they erase my memories or something...?

'Who do I...Ezri, maybe. She's nice. But I HATE how people tell me I look like 
her. Odo? Scary. Probably throw me in the hoosegow. Julian? I'd crap myself and 
die if he so much as looked at me and I've gotta stay clear-headed. Well, fairly 
clear-headed. Ditto Kira, especially in that new uniform, hoo baby...plus she'd 
likely help Odo toss me in the slam. Okay, that leaves...Worf, no way...Sisko? 
Might see me as a threat--my being here, I mean. All this Dominion crap, he'll 
probably think I'm a spy or something. My story's sure insane enough not to 
inspire confidence. Garak? Hm...you know, he probably wouldn't ever really 
believe me...but he'd act like he did, just for the hell of it, and he might 
even help me. Again for the hell of it. He likes this sort of thing...but then, 
what exactly could he do? He's not really an expert in this kinda 
universe-hopping. Miles. He's no expert either, but if they could use a 
transporter to send me back, like the Mirror stuff, he'd be the guy to 
see...though he might feel he's gotta tell Sisko because there's maybe a 
security risk of some kind going on. Even if they believe me, there might still 
be one, for all I know, I don't know how the hell this happened...Garak wouldn't 
rat me out. Might shoot me, but he wouldn't rat me out. Can't go to 'em both, 
they'd start sniping at each other...get over it, Miles, the guy just tried to 
kill you is all, and he was all xenophobic from that virus thing...okay, I'll 
sort of test the waters with Miles before I tell him what's going on. If he's 
useless, I'll try Garak. If Garak shoots me, well, problem solved, anyway.

'Can I use the...I think I can, I've seen people with no badges talking to the 
computer, and people come through here all the time, there must be some 

provision for people who don't have a voice authorization on file...Computer!" I 
said to the ceiling.

There was a kerbleep. I nearly died in relief. "Locate Chief Miles O'Brien."

"Chief O'Brien is in holosuite three."

Damn. He was with Julian, no doubt. Let Jules get a whiff of something up and 
I'd never get rid of him. Awkward questions...but then, he had been acting 
awfully damn constipated all through season six. He might not give a rat's ass. 
Maybe if I ambushed Miles at his quarters...right. "Hi, Keiko, you don't know 
me, but I have to talk to your husband. Life or death." Maybe I could just drag 
him aside when he came out...

"Computer--how do I get to Quark's?"
***

Though I am known for my ability to get lost with the thoroughness of Amelia 
Earhart, the Computer was able to coach me along until I reached the promenade, 
where I nearly wet my pants. The place is HUGE. I sorta knew that, but you don't 
really think about it while you're watching the tube, since everything there is 
six inches high anyway by the time you get a look at it. Plus there were aliens 
all over the place. Don't get me wrong, it wouldn't make much sense for a 
bisexual pagan to be xenophobic, but the IDEA of aliens and actually MEETING, 
possibly anyway, an alien, who looks just REALLY alien, are two entirely 
different cans o'gagh. I decided I'd better just pretend they were in costumes 
and get moving, or I might miss Miles. 

I struck out across the promenade with all the tenacity and courage of a 
cockroach scuttling for the baseboard when you flip the light on. I was moving 
against traffic and nearly got run over a couple of times, but I made it. 

Y'know, on the show, Quark's doesn't seem that loud, because they add the effect 
later so that you can hear the actors talk. The real Quark's is frigging 
obnoxious, noisy and crowded and cramped with all those people. We won't talk 
about the smells. Morn is the size of a house, practically, by the way. I once 
saw the guy who plays him at a con. He's a real average looking dude, nice and 
all, but I don't see how he can POSSIBLY fill out a costume that size. No wonder 
he says he's always roasting in the damn thing. 

I faded toward the wall, hoping to stay out of the way while I tried to figure 
out how to get to the stairs. Everybody knows the suites are on the second 
floor...

"Ezri! What are you sneaking around by the--oh, I'm sorry. You're human."
I jumped about eight feet and spun around. Oops. Over before it starts. I'm 
dead.

It was Kira. 

She was standing there with her weight planted fetchingly to one side, hands on 
her hips, head cocked to the side as she smiled at me. I nearly moaned out loud. 
She asked "Do you by any chance know a Trill named Ezri Dax?"

I tried to talk and nothing happened, which I had pretty much expected, and it 
wouldn't have done me a lot of good anyway since I had no notion what to say, 
but I swallowed and managed to babble "I...yeah, I...well, I did know her. I 
mean I know *of* her. I'm a..." idiot, Ezri doesn't know you, "...I was a friend 
of Jadzia's."

"Oh." Kira looked a little downcast at the mention of Jadzia, but perked up 
again and said "You two look a little alike. I guess you're here to see her, 
then, meet the new host?"

"Yeah! Yeah, that's it. I mean, I haven't seen her yet, at least, but..." but I 
hope like hell I'm out of here before I get the opportunity, "...but I certainly 
plan on it."

"You look sort of lost."

"Oh, I am, no doubt about that," I sighed, and bit the inside of my mouth trying 
to keep my hands to myself because she was for chrissakes coming over and 
putting her arm around my shoulders. 

She pulled me away from the wall and said "Any friend of Jadzia's...come and sit 
down, I'll buy you a glass of spring wine. You are old enough, aren't you?"

"I'm thirty-three."

"Really? You don't look it."

"So I'm told every time I get ID'd."

She planted me in a chair and snagged a passing waiter, said something to him, 
and sat down across from me, grinning that darling grin that makes her eyes 
light up and crinkle at the corners. I made a faint noise in my chest and 
pretended to have something in my eye.

She was saying "So, what's your name? I'm Kira Nerys, station first officer."
"I'm, uh..." about as coherent as a bad case of apoplexy, "...my name's Blue 
Champagne. Call me B.C."

"*That's* an unusual name."

"Stage name. From a story I like. I'm a singer." Last two statements true; first 
one false. I thought explaining a web name could get me in over my head damn 
quick.

"Really! What sort of music do you sing?"

"Uh...my own songs, mostly. And uh, blues, alternate, um..." Schist. I'd 
fantasized about this meeting to the point of dementia and what do I do when it 
finally happens? Make a complete ass out of myself. B.C., just take a deep 
breath and PULL YOUR DAMN HEAD OUT, you drooling moronic--

Somebody set a glass full of pink liquid in front of me. I grabbed it and had a 
slug. My eyes watered for real. I swallowed and tried to get my balance back. "I 
didn't know this stuff was supposed to have that kind of kick!"

"It's spring wine. What'd you expect?"

"Something like a nice Zinfandel, maybe..."

"Earth wine?"

"Yeah."

"So how did you know Jadzia?"

"We...we met while she was...while she was on Earth at the Academy. We didn't 
know each other long. But--we've been exchanging letters a long time. She's, uh, 
told me about you."

"Nothing good, I hope." She smiled again. I REALLY wished she'd quit doing that, 
since my brain stalled and fell out of gear every time she did. Plus I didn't 
have a change of shorts handy.

"She was very complimentary," I managed to get out, started to smile back at 
her, and was forced to take a very quick swallow of my drink. Mind out of the 
gutter, B.C., you're no match for Odo... "She said, uh, that you don't think too 
much of Quark. Did you come here on business?"

She made a face. "Sort of. I'm here to talk to Julian. Bashir, our CMO?"

"Jadzia mentioned him."

"I just bet she did. I get to tell him that the Captain volunteered him to 
conduct orientation for a group of Bajoran scientists who'll be visiting in a 
few days. There are times I bet he regrets being so charming. Sisko knows better 
than to give ME the job."

"I've always thought you were charming," I blurted, then gulped and felt my face 
start heating up.

She just looked at me, brows drawing together, waiting for an explanation.

"Jadzia was very fond of you," I managed to come up with. "I...feel like I know 
you already." Whoo boy, air the place out after THAT stinky puppy....lame-O, 
B.C....

"Oh. Well, thank you for the compliment, but you're in a universe of one in that 
opinion. Even Odo wouldn't describe me as 'charming'. Hey, there's my victim 
now."

I turned to look and saw two figures in unbelievable wolfskin getups that looked 
like they weighed sisty pounds each--they don't look that heavy on the show; 
maybe the costumes aren't--shouldering their way down the spiral stairs, arguing 
about something. Of course. I determinedly fixed my eyes on the blonde and 
flatly refused to look at the brunet. That stupid skin outfit would go up in 
flames if my eyes landed on it. I'd rather have stared at the Dabo girls, but...
Too late, I guess due to oxygen deprivation of the brain, I realized what Kira 
would obviously do. She waved at Miles and Julian, who altered course toward our 
table. By this time I was praying for spontaneous human combustion, but needless 
to say you never get a break like that when you really need it. 

They stopped by the table. I kept my eyes on the wine glass in front of me. 

"Colonel, Lieutenant," Miles said, and I squawked "I'm NOT Ezri!"

There was a brief silence while I fantasized about getting shot in a sudden 
Dominion assault on Quark's, then Kira said, as though I hadn't spoken, "Julian 
Bashir, Miles O'Brien, this is Blue Champagne--that's her stage name--a friend 
of Jadzia's."

Doomed. I looked up. Miles was holding his hand out to me as he and Julian both 
made polite noises. I actually smiled. Good old reliable Miles, he might bail me 
out of this yet. 

But I didn't have time to pull my hand back before Julian grabbed it--in both of 
his. I am small. His hands are large. Mine vanished as he squeezed it firmly. 
"You're very welcome here," he said in that *killer* voice, and I worked my face 
into a smile and looked at him. His skin feels as unbelievable as it looks. And 
his hands are very warm. He was smiling too. I was glad I hadn't stood up. He spoke 
again. "Any friend of Jadzia's is a friend of ours. Of mine especially."

"That was my line, Julian," Kira was saying. "By the way, I've got some bad 
news. You get to play host again." 

"A*gain*?" I made a mental note to nominate Kira for canonization as he dropped 
my hand and turned to her. "Can't you do it?"

"You're the charming one around here."

Miles snorted.

I jumped to my feet, focusing very hard on Miles to keep the peripheral sight of 
Kira and Julian from robbing me of the power of speech. "I have to go--I, um, I 
was going to meet Ezri--but Miles, there were a couple of things I want to ask 
you about--professional advice kinds of things--are you busy?"

"Not really, just going home to change. Replicator at your place giving you 
trouble?"

"Not quite. I'll, uh, I'll walk you back. If that's okay...?"

"Well and good."

"We'll see you later, B.C.," Kira said, and I managed to smile at her without 
looking right at her. Julian said "Right. Maybe with Ezri tonight?"

"Maybe so," I agreed hastily, and scooted around to the other side of Miles, 
sticking my arm through his. Thank God for his archaic manners; I'd never have 
made it out of Quark's without leaning on him. 

He asked polite questions about how I knew Jadzia to which I made up bullhockey 
answers. When we were in a fairly well deserted side corridor I tugged on his 
arm to stop him. "Miles. I have to tell you something." Screw testing the 
waters. I was in deep crud here. Better throw myself on his mercy and pray he's 
more interested in the engineering problem than the potential danger. 
He looked at me expectantly.

"Okay," I said, voice shaking. "I've never really met Jadzia, but I know her. 
You don't know me, but I know you. I'm not from...from around here. I'm from 
another universe, one in which your universe exists as a...a story, an 
artificial reality thousands of people write about and read about and watch on 
TV. Television. Flat holovid. Anyway, I'm not sure how I got here, but I don't 
belong here, and I'd really like to get home, but I've got no idea how to even 
find where home is and I wouldn't know what to do about it if I did and you're 
so good with transporters and you built that device Sisko used to go to the 
Mirror universe and I thought maybe--" to my eternal disgust, I started crying. 

"Shush, now, it's all right, little lass..." 

"Dammit I'm thirty-three!"

"Darlin', just take a deep breath." He put an arm around me and patted me--he's 
really a pretty big guy, he only looks medium-sized because he's always with 
Doctor Stilt, or Avery Brooks or Michael Dorn, all of whom must regularly bash 
in their foreheads on door lintels--and said "Just slow down. Why don't we go on 
to my place, and I'll get us some tea, and you can tell me about it."

"GOD I love you, Miles," I managed to get out through all the snot, which I was 
trying to wipe up without being too obviously gross about it.

"Hey. It's just a cup of tea," he chuckled at me, which made me grin through the 
goop. 
***

I looked around when we went in. "Where's Keiko?" 

He stopped on his way to the replicator and looked at me. 

"Uh, like I said," I sniffed sheepishly, "I know you as well as anybody where 
I'm from does, except maybe Colm Meany."

"Who's he?"

"Let's just say he spends a lot of time inside your head."

"He's a telepath?"

"Sometimes it seems that way."

"Hm." He turned back to the replicator. "Two cups of jasmine tea, sweet--"

"With milk," I piped up, then stood there aghast at my own temerity.

He didn't miss a beat, though. "One with milk." I skitched around to where I 
could see and stared raptly as the cups materialized, steaming. He picked them 
up, one by the rim, and came and handed it to me. I sort of slowly lifted a hand 
to take it, but I was still staring dropjawed at the replicator.

"I take it the replicator's a little past your technology?"

"Yeah. We don't--um, think late twentieth century Earth."

"Pretty primitive."

"Yeah, I guess, compared to this, anyway. But they're doing some cool things 
with PA equipment lately." He shooed me toward one of the sofas and we sat down. 
He set his cup down and started getting out of the worst of his wolfskin getup. 
"All right, now," he said, "from the beginning."

"It's real simple. About an hour ago I was sitting in front of my computer 
downloading a file and storing it. Then I hit the floor somewhere here on the 
station. That's it. That's all I know." 

"What was the file?"

"It was a G/B...uh, it was a story about people here on the station. Like I 
said, where I'm from, this place exists as kind of a communal fantasy universe. 
People write stories about it."

"Hm." He picked up his tea and had a sip. "My first thought, you've gotta know, 
is that you're either in need of a visit to Julian, or you're a dominion 
operative sneaking in under the guise of..."

"Yeah, of a complete moron. I'll bleed for you if you want."

"Not necessary. We'll use a screening hypo. I'll just call Ju--"

"NO!" I seized his arm in desperation. "Not him! Anybody but him!"

"Why?"

"Uh..." Shit. "How about the nurse I nearly landed on? Her name was...what the 
hell...Luna?"

"You mean Luma?"

"Yeah, her. She had her infirmary getup on, I just saw her an hour ago."

"Why not Julian, though?"

"Miles, just...look, where I'm from, I've written stories that have endeared 
your character to Trek fans who found you as interesting as Spam until they read 
them, and decided they liked you after all. Though *still* maybe not as much as 
they like...well, I did that for you, just do this for me, okay?"

"This is assuming I'm taking your word for it. Fine, whatever...O'Brien to the 
infirmary."

"Infirmary."

"If nurse Luma is on duty, would you send her by my quarters with a screening 
hypo? Won't take a minute."

"She's here. I'll tell her."

"Thanks. O'Brien out." He looked back at me. "Satisfied?"

"Thanks, Miles."

He patted my head, which ordinarily makes me insane, but right then I 
appreciated it. "We'll get this figured out," he said. 
***

"We" didn't do anything. Miles did. For starters, he went to his computer 
terminal and did some superficial research, he said about alternate realities 
and quantum realities, and various known methods for getting around therein, 
while we waited for the nurse; I sat like a lump on the couch, feeling sorry for 
myself and sniffling.

After the nurse left, he came back and sat down with me again. "How are you 
doing?"

"I'm scared shitless," I said, on the verge of tears again. Hell, being lost in 
a strange country without a passport, money or any clue how to get home, or even 
where home is, exactly, would be enough to make anybody cry, and this was a lot 
worse. 

He scooted over and put his arm around me again. I started really wishing I had 
him around at home. I'd save a bundle in antidepressants. "You know, this is why 
I like writing about you."

"This what, exactly?"

"Some people say you're non-emotive, closed in, but I always thought you were a 
really loving person. You just don't show it the ways everyone expects to see 
it."

"Same as that Colm fellow, whoever he is?"

I actually managed to laugh. "He's a gas. I've seen him in a lot of different 
roles, and he manages to be unique in all of them. He makes me proud to be 
Irish."

"And a pretty colleen you are, too. Okay, I'm following you about half the time, 
but I won't push. You look like you could use some rest. Why don't you go have a 
lie-down while I--"

I zinged him in the baby blues with my forest greens. "You're gonna call Sisko, 
aren't you."

He blinked. "Okay, maybe you do know me."

"You know what'll happen. I'll probably be down in a holding cell. I know too 
much to make sense with the impossible story. Okay, maybe not that impossible 
for this universe, but he'll still never take the chance."

"Now, now--we know you're not a changeling--"

"But I could be an operative. Totally frigging unrealistic as that is, for God's 
sake. Blast it, I write these stories, I know how this stuff works! My explanation's too 
crazy and I know too much and it's too late for me to keep you from finding that out. I 
had to tell you, anyway, so you could help me. He may stop worrying once he gets a look 
at me, but I know him, too. He probably won't take the chance."

"Colleen, it really *would* help if you'd let Julian examine you. He could 
figure for certain whether you're human or a surgically altered Vorta or 
something. Also find out if you're a telepath, or receiving telepathic 
transmissions from someone else."

I groaned and slumped against his shoulder. "Not him, anybody but him..."
"He's got a couple of lieutenants, and two Bajoran doctors under him, but he's 
got the most experience with this sort of thing."

"Will one of the other doctors be good enough for Sisko?"

"I imagine so."

"Can we compromise on that?"

"Aye, why not, I suppose...what's the problem with Julian, then? Don't you know 
him, too?"

"Oh, yeah. And..." quick search for an answer that'll keep me from having to 
kill myself in mortification whether I get home or not--and the truth sure doesn't qualify--
me without my clothes on in the same room with Julian would end with someone else 
treating the two broken arms he'd have to give me-- "...I just don't like him, okay? 
He's...he's obnoxious."

Miles laughed. "He is that, but he's a good man. Give him a chance."

"Not Julian. Someone else."

"Right. Well, then, come on, let's get you to the infirmary; Julian's likely 
still arguing Sisko about that orientation assignment. After we have a medical 
report, we'll go to Sisko. I really haven't got much choice about that, you 
know."

I grimaced. "I know. That's why I thought about asking Garak for help."

He stiffened.

"But I feel a lot safer with you."

"Well I'm glad to hear *that* for bloody damn sure. C'mon, colleen."
***

The infirmary smocks are pretty comfy, but I still think they were designed by 
whatever color-blind costume-school reject dressed Julian and Leeta in "Let He 
Who Is Without Sin". Yuck. Anyway, I was getting my clothes back on in the exam 
room--and they do have those; I guess they must show Julian examining everybody 
in the main ward on the show because they have to have expository dialog and 
it'd look stupid to crowd everyone in a little room for it--when I heard the 
unmistakable baritone resonance of Avery Brooks's voice. It *really* carries. 
I'd love to hear him sing seriously--I know he does, but I've never heard it. 
It's no wonder he talks so softly all the time, everyone's fillings would get 
rumbled loose otherwise. 

I stuck the little bottle of saline eyewash I'd asked for into my bra--don't 
laugh, my bra and the sweater I was wearing were up to the task and I was as 
without pockets as your typical Starfleet officer. Then I poked my head out of 
the room and looked around. Luma gave me what I guess was supposed to be a 
reassuring smile and nodded toward the main room. I wandered through the 
props--sorry, equipment--to the front.

"Checks out clear," Miles was saying, handing Sisko a padd. "And anyway, sir--I 
believe her. It's not hard to see she's near panic. Doctor Guirani gave her 
something she said would calm her down, but..."

Really? No wonder I felt so much better. Must've been when she had a hypo jammed 
against me and I thought she was taking another sample or whatever. It's true; 
the hypos only have two buttons--"suck" and "blow". 

"I hope you don't mind if I have a few words with her anyway, chief?"

"If I stick around for it? She seemed worried about your finding out she's 
here."

"That doesn't speak well for her right there."

"No, it's not that--she just knows us, knows the way things work around here, 
and she's pretty sure you won't believe her story."

"I don't, at least not yet. There must be some other reason she knows the things 
she does about you, and about the rest of us."

Trank or no, I was about to bolt when they turned and saw me standing there. At 
the same moment, Julian walked in, saw me, and said brightly "B.C.!"

I bolted.

Okay, I'm not proud of it. We'd all like to think we'd be models of grace and 
levelheadedness if we were to be privileged to visit with our favorite 
characters in their home universe, comport ourselves well and maybe save the 
quadrant once or twice before bidding them a cheerful farewell and returning 
home. Or at least just be giddy and silly. Worm turds. It's freak-out city, and 
would leave most of us about as much use as a sack of dead mice, which I was, 
and I ran, blasted right past Julian--who is even taller in person, by the 
way--and onto the promenade with no idea what the hell I thought I was doing. I 
was at Defcon one, all cerebral activity curtailed by sheer terror. 

Whilst tearing blindly through the foot traffic and listening to the blood roar 
in my ears, I took a quick look over my shoulder and promptly smacked full into 
something that hadn't been there last I checked, and fell down. Well, I 
rebounded, flew backward a couple feet, and *then* fell down. It really wasn't 
such a bad thing. It shocked me back to what was, at the moment, passing for 
reality. I managed to focus my eyes and looked up.

Tinker, tailor, soldier, spy...I sighed. "Hi, Garak. Could you give me a hand?" 
I'm amazed the bottle didn't explode when I hit that chest ridge. My boobs damn 
near did.

He stared at me a moment with those huge, crazy blue eyes, and then smiled. "You 
have the advantage of me, miss." He bent and reached down to me. We clamped onto 
each other's wrists and he pulled me up.

"Blue Champagne. Pleased to meetcha." With the helpful slap in the noggin, the 
trank was rushing over me full force. "Whoa. Head rush."

"Excuse me?"

"How you feeling lately? Sessions with Ezri helping?"

"Young woman..."

"Ah. There she is." Miles. I turned; he and Sisko were approaching, Sisko waving 
away a couple of brown-suited security guards. "Thought you'd decided to leave 
us already." Miles came up and sort of proprietarily took my arm and pulled it 
out of Garak's grip under the guise of giving me the once-over damage check. 
"Feeling all right now?"

"Whatever the doctor gave me is the real stuff. That and slamming full tilt into 
Garak here...sorry about that, by the way."

"I can overlook it, under the circumstances; you appeared rather distraught. 
Actually, for a moment, I thought you were--"

"Ezri. Yeah, I've been getting that a lot."

Miles said "If you are feeling up to it, then, the Captain would like to have a 
chat with you. Just tell him what you told me."

I grabbed onto his arm just over where he was holding mine, and he patted my 
hand. "'S'all right, he says I can sit with you for it. Shall we go?"
And with a final wave and a sickly grin at Garak--from me, not Miles or 
Sisko--we were off to Ops.
***

Sisko was reserved, which he had every right to be, but by the time about ten 
minutes had gone by I think he was convinced that not only was I not any sort of 
covert mission operative, I probably also had to be dressed and fed by somebody 
else. I hadn't tried to hide that I knew things, but the things I knew weren't 
what you could call sensitive--just impossible to explain. I can't really blame 
him for finding me flaky, because I was. If it hadn't been for Miles I would 
have just curled up in a ball and let the trank take its course. 

The drug was making it possible for me to appreciate getting to observe my 
surroundings, at some level, at least; I hoped I'd be able to remember enough to 
do me some good, but so far the only thing that was really sticking with me was 
how humongous everything was. When you've been short for over thirty years, you 
get used to it, but watching TV, everything is filmed from the character's 
perspective, and most actors on DS9 are substantially taller than I am. Other 
than the Ferengi, I think Nana's the only one (pre-Nicole) under five-ten and 
they've got her on stilts. I was going to have a permanent crick in my neck if 
this kept up. 

"Ms. Shults." I looked up. (I'd thought it might be a nice gesture of honesty on 
my part to tell him my real name.)

"Yes, Captain?"

"I think that--for the present--we can accept that the events you relate are 
true as far as your knowledge goes, but I also think there are forces operating 
here beyond what you have any knowledge of or ability to extrapolate on--"

"Can't fight you there."

"--and until we determine the cause of your arrival here, you'd probably better 
be in some sort of protective custody--"

"Damn it! I knew it! The detention center!"

"Sir," Miles protested.

"Not the detention center, necessarily--"

"Let 'er stay with me. Most of the work I'm going to be doing for a while is 
gonna involve finding out how the hell she got here and how to get her back 
home, anyway, before anybody else drops in on us, or anything even more untoward 
happens."

"When is Keiko due back?"

"A few more days."

"Darn," I muttered. Since the advent of the super-trank, I'd really wanted to 
meet Keiko; Rosalind Chao is SO interesting...of course, if I wasn't lucky, I'd have all the 
time in the world to get to know her.

"Really, I would prefer the infirmary; If what she says is true, she's probably 
in a fairly deep state of shock." 

I couldn't breathe. Not the infirmary, nope nope nope nope...

Sisko continued "Speaking of which..."

"I'll get hold of Lieutenant Dax, sir."

"All right. It *is* difficult to make the infirmary secure; I wouldn't enjoy 
posting guards on her to see to her safety. Plus Doctor Bashir gets positively surly when 
security invades his territory. But I don't think she should leave your quarters unless she's 
with you." 

"Right."

Sisko nodded. "You're dismissed, then. Ms. Shults, try..."

"...not to flip out and go tearing down the promenade on all thrusters, right, 
Captain, I'll do my best."

"I was going to say, try not to worry so much. We'll get to the bottom of this."

Looking at the floor, I nodded.

As Miles helped me up and we were leaving, I heard Sisko talking to Odo over the 
comm, telling him to organize a search of the station for any unidentifiable or 
unauthorized equipment...
***

Later that evening, I was lying in Molly's bed in one of Keiko's nightgowns 
which are no WAY big enough for me across the boobs or the shoulders, but 
Miles's pajama shirts came about four inches past my fingertips. He'd offered to 
replicate something for me, or even get something from Garak, but I was feeling 
pretty damn humiliated by this whole thing and the way I'd thrown myself on him 
to begin with, and told him to PLEASE not go to any extra trouble for me. By the 
way, those mattresses have some sort of matter-spatial squishy stuff in them 
that relocates your mattress butt-dent to another dimension or something, 
because they're a lot softer than the flat slabs they look like. The normal 
beds, I mean. I never got to try a Cardassian one. 

Needless to say, I was having a LOT of trouble sleeping. Miles had fed me--I 
still expected the food to evaporate--and packed me off to bed after I exchanged 
a few token observations with Ezri (who I don't really look much like, I think 
people just say that to drive me nuts and rub in the fact that I still appear to 
be a kid--it's partly the shortness--), saying I looked like I could use some 
rest, and I bet I did, but that didn't mean I was gonna get any. 

Especially not now. The door was just slightly open--you never see them locked 
half-open that way on the show, but there it was--and I heard the door chime 
sound. At least, it was the sound effect of the door signal on the show, so I 
was assuming that's what it was here. 

"Hi," Miles said in his best you-darken-my-door voice.

"Oh, *don't* take that tone with me, Chief, please. How was I supposed to know?"

Shit. HIM. I pulled the covers over my head, but it didn't help.

"Well, just keep it in mind in the future. You scare the bloody bejeezus out of 
her, for some reason. She said it was because you're obnoxious, but that doesn't 
make you terrifying. Annoying, yes..."

"Where is she? The Captain said she was staying with you."

"Molly's room. Poor little creature looked a fright. I sent her to bed."

Glad to know the kind of impression I was making, I pulled the pillow over my 
head, too. 

"What does Ezri think?"

"She said it was tough to tell on such short notice, but along with the 
information Guirani gathered at the exam, she finds none of the usual signs of 
having had memories altered or implanted, and if she's delusional, well..."

"Yes, that's a difficult one to determine. If she *is* delusional, some 
regression therapy might bring out her real memories. It may even be some sort 
of simple confusion brought on by illness or a trauma, temporary amnesia, 
something of that sort. But that doesn't explain her memories of us. Ezri said 
she knew about Jadzia's death in the shrine, Garak's claustrophobia..."

"The fact that you're obnoxious..."

"Leave off, Miles, I'd apologize to her if she'd let me. And she knew your 
wife's name, though that wouldn't be too difficult to find out..."

"She knows a lot more about me than that. I was staring at the replicator, 
thinking about coffee, and she said 'Don't do it. You *know* you'll be up all 
night.' That's only one example."

"Then I suppose your staff and the science section are going to take her at face 
value?"

"We don't have much choice. God alone knows what this means, if it's true."

"Can I ask you something?"

"If I said no, would it matter?"

"You're very protective of her, awfully suddenly. Does she by any 
chance...remind you of anyone, or some such thing?"

"You'd be protective of her too, if you weren't ticked because she can't bear to 
be in the same room with you."

"Miles..."

"Oh..." there was a pause. It sounded like Miles sat down on the sofa. "I 
suppose...a lot of it's because though she knew us all, she chose me to come to 
for help. I guess it might be she trusts me because she has to, but it doesn't 
seem that way. She talks to me as though she's known me for years--and I'm 
starting to get the same feeling about her. Oh, she's a mess, all right, awkward 
as hell and about as poised as a pile of broken bricks, not a very prepossessing 
little thing in general..."

Thanks, Miles, neither are you, first glance. 

"...but she's got some kind of...I don't know, it's almost as though she's aware 
of something we aren't. And she'd tell us, but she doesn't know how. I'm not 
real clear on that part. Maybe it's just disquieting, everything she knows about 
us all."

Julian laughed, causing me to swoon. "You make her sound like Ezri."

End of swoon. I growled.

"Maybe that is what I mean, a little. "

"Well, I just wanted to see how the two of you were getting on. Oh, and give you 
this. Another few doses of that tranquilizer, in case she needs it."

"I've a feeling she might. Thanks."

Julian left, praise to the gods of saltpeter and cold showers, and I listened to 
Miles moving around the rest of the place until, much later, the light coming 
through the door vanished and it became quiet.

Well, not entirely quiet. That thrumming sound they always mix in over the 
station scenes, that you stop noticing on the show because it's ALWAYS there? 
Well, it's not that easy to stop noticing it when it's making your follicles 
vibrate. I'll admit I didn't find it annoying until I was lying still in the 
quiet dark, so I assumed it wasn't impossible to get used to, but that didn't 
seem to be in any big hurry to happen. 

I got up and argued with the door switch, shut the door in my own face, and 
argued some more until it opened for me. Mumbling "Just a humble door," I went 
out into the front room to one of the ports.

I'd been seeing them all day, but they never really registered--it was too much 
to take in, even more than everything else. THAT was not a special effect. That 
was not a blue screen or even a piece of black cloth with holes in it hanging 
over a bank of lights. THAT was DEEP SPACE.

And I was standing here in nothing but a nightgown--which was too small--and 
nothing between me and it but a pane of glass or whatever the hell, I was...I 
was sealed inside a metal construction floating in an unimaginable vacuum. Sure, 
Trek makes it seem like space is so crowded you can't turn around without 
bumping into a stray planet, but I'm an astronomy buff from way back. I know 
what's out there. Damn near nothing. Forever. "Hard vacuum" technically consists 
of one or fewer hydrogen atoms per cubic meter...one or fewer *hydrogen 
atoms*...space; it's the final fucking frontier all right.

I love to fly; I don't panic in airplanes. That sort of thing wasn't my problem. 
Hull ruptures, malfunctioning atmosphere generators, radiation shielding...this 
close to a star, without a planetary atmosphere to protect us--and I mean just 
the right kind, the kind ours is on its way to not being--we'd be fatally 
irradiated in an instant. One tiny imbalance in the levels of the gases in the 
air, and we die either from oxygen deficiency or poisoning. Hyperoxygenate, we 
pass out and can't do anything to stop the malfunction--and it takes only a 
percentage point or two to knock us into orbit, make us too giddy to function. 
What would be a minor problem with temperature control for the computer could 
kill us before we could repair it; and there are a million things that could go 
wrong with such complex equipment...the truth is, there are probably--in our 
universe--no planets anywhere that we could live on indefinitely without some 
sort of support and protection. Only the one we evolved on has the precise 
combination of the myriad factors.

I couldn't pull my eyes off the port, and eventually I set my hands against it. 
It was vibrating very faintly, almost too faintly to feel. It was cold. I could 
feel myself starting to shake.

Talk about your fear of heights...or is this claustrophobia? What's more 
frightening, the unimaginable depths of space or the fact that I'm encased in a 
comparatively tiny spinning metal...don't think "coffin", chick...

I started trying to distract myself by remembering all the words to the 
Virga--which can work, give it a shot some time--and began singing under my 
breath. "O, viridissima virga, ave...que in ventoso flabro siscitascionis 
sanctorum prodisti...cum venit tempus quod to floruisti, in ramis tuis...ave, 
ave suit tibi, quia calor solis--AAAK!"

The wormhole had opened. 

That's it. I'm outta here. Clean to hell and gone, check-out time, Elvis has 
left the building--oh dear, I seem to still be screaming--

I couldn't hear too well, but I could feel a big hand grab me by the shoulder 
and a hissing pressure at the other side of my neck, and then my knees gave.

Miles caught me as I went down.
***

I know he carried me to the couch--my best to your back and screwed-up shoulder, 
Miles, how's that old rotator cuff holding up? Julian had to replace it 
lately?--because I felt him pick me up. After that, I don't know if I fainted or 
Julian put a Mickey Finn in the trank; one way or another, I was out for a 
while, at least. 

When I came to, he had me in his lap, the top half of me, at least. My head was 
on his shoulder.

I said "Miles."

"Colleen?"

"I've gone crazy, haven't I?"

"No, shhh...don't be silly. You're only a bit confused. Anyone would be."

"Miles...this isn't real. You aren't real. This is a...a fabricated fantasy land 
created by hundreds of people who work for Paramount and hundreds more besides 
that. The wormhole isn't exactly a scientific impossibility, but it's based on 
speculative physics. And it wouldn't LOOK LIKE THAT even if it did exist! That's 
just a special effect!"

He began shushing me again, stroking my hair, and I shut up and let my head fall 
back against his shoulder in abject misery. I wondered if the folks in the 
looney ward could hear me doing both sides of this conversation or if I was in 
some sort of cataleptic state. Here's hoping for catalepsy. Way less 
embarrassing.

"I'm crazy."

"You're not. Hush."

"You'd say that whether you believed it or not, Miles."

"If I don't exist, why does it matter what I say?"

"I don't know. For some reason it matters."

"Then what I say is, try to get some more rest. I'll sleep out here with you, on 
the other couch."

"With that hypo right to hand, no doubt."

"Definitely. And stay away from the viewports, all right? The neighbors will 
wonder what kind of party I'm having over here while my family's gone."

"I'm sorry, Miles."

"Forget it, sweetie." He went and got blankets from the bedrooms, and the pillow 
from Molly's room, which he tucked under my head before covering me up. He arranged 
himself over on the other couch and I closed my eyes without much hope, hypo or no.

"These stories you write about this Colm fellow..."

"No, it's you in the stories, not him. I don't know anything about Colm Meany 
except his name and that I really like his work. I also love his voice."

"What's he sound like?"

"You. He looks and sounds exactly like you, close enough for rock and roll."

"Mm...sounds like you've been reality-hopping, all right. So, you think he's 
handsome, this Colm of yours?"

I grinned, I couldn't help it. Then I threw my pillow at his head. "He's Prime. 
He's one hundred percent Grade-A lean-marbled man."

Miles laughed and threw the pillow back at me. "Keep it up, col, you'll have me 
championing you all over quantum reality."

"In a way," I yawned, "you already do." 

"What are the stories like, then? What happens?"

"Um..." You and your wife roll around with Julian a lot, together and 
separately...nah, maybe not. You have awful crises involving Argratha and Julian 
helps you with it? Julian gets outed as a synthetic mutant and you and your 
whole family help him with that? 

Okay, one that I could make innocuous enough. "In one, you were exposed to the 
same sort of quantum fissure that Worf encountered in the shuttlecraft Curie and 
you wind up--"

"Wait. You know about Worf doing that?"

"Yeah."

"Can you tell me...what was the name of the idiot who conveyed Keiko's message 
to me that she was canceling our wedding?"

"The idiot was Data. Geordi yelled at him about it."

"There are people I speak to every day here who don't know about that. You know 
the command crew from the D, too?"

"Yeah."

Miles sighed gustily. "This is getting stranger by the moment. Well, I'll let 
you rest, colleen. Don't worry about a thing. I'll be right here."

I don't know what was in that shot, but I didn't have any trouble getting to 
sleep after that. 
***

"She's waking up."

I did, with a vengeance. Small pale hands seized my shoulders as I sat bolt 
upright on the sofa, staring around with utter lack of recognition. Glowing blue 
eyes floated before me in a fair face.

"The...it...I'm..."

"Yes, you're still here," Ezri said. "I'm sorry. I wish it had been a dream."

"Where's Miles?"

"Right behind you," Miles said. "I got an early call, so I asked Ezri if she'd 
come stay for a bit." He handed me a glass of juice.

"Oh...thanks..." I refocused on Ezri. "You know, Julian's right. You do have 
Jadzia's eyes. Curzon's supposed to have had bright blue eyes too, as I recall. 
Is it a requirement to host the Dax symbiont or something? No, I forgot, you 
were a fast emergency grab, weren't you?"

Ezri stared at me, then looked up at Miles.

"Get used to it," he told her. "She's been doing it all along, I doubt it'll let 
up now. I'll see you soon, col." He patted my head again and picked up a case by 
the door on his way out.

"Well." Ezri let go of me and moved to the other sofa. She gave me one of her 
yeah-I'm-doing-this-right-I-think-aren't-I? too-bright smiles, and said "Looks 
like you made a friend!"

"It isn't that hard to make friends with Miles. Look like you need a friend, 
boom. Which is why I like him so much, I guess. Crying on him works, too."

Ezri lost her attentive counselor pose and looked speculative. "It does?" She 
turned and eyed the door Miles had left through as though considering this 
carefully, and not as an insight into Miles's psyche.

I interrupted her musing or planning or whatever. "Look, I'm sort of glad you're 
here, I'd feel weird asking Miles about this--mind giving me a little 
instruction on the intricacies of taking a shower and brushing your teeth aboard 
a Nor space station? And maybe throwing on a little hair gel and makeup?"

"Oh, of course! Naturally a man wouldn't think of something like that..."

"Uh, some men would. This place has been just really canon so far, you know?"

Ezri was taken aback, her voice taking on that squished did-I-screw-up tone. "Is 
that bad?"

"Depends on who you ask. I could stand a little...well, then again, I don't 
really need any more surprises right now."

The door warbled.

I hid under my blanket.

Ezri seemed to sort of vacillate a minute, then went and answered the door.

"Ezri. Is our guest awa--"

"OUT!" she snapped. I heard a hand slap a door switch and the sound effect of a 
door closing.

Ezri came back to where I was, and gently pulled the blanket off my head. She 
just stood there looking at me sadly.

"Thanks," I managed to sort of burp out quietly.

"He just wants to apologize for upsetting you," she said softly, doing her 
sweet-little-counselor look at me, which I hate because part of me actually 
thinks it's cute.

"NO," I insisted, stampeding for the bathroom. "Just keep him AWAY from me! I 
can't take it! Colonel Kira's damn near as bad, but at least she's not so 
frigging persistent..." I was stymied at the bathroom by not knowing how to lock 
the door. 

Ezri followed me and said "Nerys isn't like Julian. She just thinks that if you 
want space, you should get space."

"Got plenty of space last night," I muttered, "could you show me how to work 
this door lock, for starters?"

She shouldered in next to me to do so, then caught sight of us in the mirror, 
and cocked her head, saying in her squirrel-asking-question voice "Do you think 
we look alike?"

"*No.*"

She gazed a moment longer, then smiled at me and said "Me neither." 
***

"Tell me another one, colleen."

We were standing on the upper level of the promenade, leaning against the rail, 
looking down at the flow of people going by. He was leaning with both hands, 
with me in the curve of his arm. He probably hoped I'd just think he was being 
protective and affectionate, but it wasn't hard to figure out the primary reason 
for it; he was for damn sure not gonna let me turn around and stare out those 
ports. 

He'd come in that afternoon to find Ezri still with me; she'd replicated a sort 
of one-size-fits-all shirt and pants set for me, with some appropriate 
undergarments. When she asked me what color I liked, I said green, and as a 
result I now looked like I was wearing surgical scrubs. Oh well, they were 
comfy, and I wasn't trying to impress anyone. Except I did hope Bashir and Kira 
never got an eyeful of me looking like this. 

"Another one...hm. How about the night you nearly told Julian that you love him? 
Twice."

"Crikey. I had to ask. I was drunk, all right?"

"Not as drunk as he was. I *know* Colm and Sid can sing better than that. 
Yikes."

"Yeah, we butchered 'Jerusalem' pretty badly."

"At least you stayed in one key. Then there was the time you fixed potato 
casserole for Keiko and she nearly barfed at the capers."

"She still doesn't like them. Tell me one about...oh...Captain Picard."

"When Ardra beamed him down to the planet's surface in his underwear and Data 
had to get in a shuttlepod and bring him some clothes?"

Miles chuckled. "Now one about--try to make it something I wouldn't know--about 
Julian."

"Hm...he may have told you about this, but you would have killed to see the look 
on his face when Garak snuck into his quarters in the middle of the night and 
stood there watching him until he realized he wasn't alone and nearly hit the 
ceiling."

Miles burst out laughing, bumping into me. "No, he never told me that! That'd 
have been priceless, all right. Colleen, we should be getting back. I'm not sure 
the Captain would approve of you wandering the station, even with me."
"Too late. Ezri took me on a walking tour earlier."

"I hope she kept you away from the ports."

"Yeah, she tried. Thanks for telling her all about my screaming fit."

"Oh, relax, it's her job to know those things. I haven't told anyone else. Now 
come along before Julian shows up."

I came along, fast.
***

Back at his quarters, I asked "I take it there's no good news yet, or you'd have 
told me first thing."

He sighed and sat down by me. "There's...well, some sort of progress. We've 
found no evidence of tampering, unauthorized or unexplainable apparatus on the 
station or the ships in, no evidence of cloaked or otherwise concealed ships 
nearby, and so on; which means we've not the faintest notion of how you got 
here. Which puts a crimp in figuring out how to get you back."

"Crap. If that's progress, here's to stagnation."

"I'm not done, col. Another thing is that you arrived in a place you know, but 
which isn't real where you're from. If you were just going to get bounced by 
some sort of matter-spatial anomaly and there's *no* intervention by a sentient 
agent, the coincidence that you'd land here of all places is far too great, even 
just considering the ratio of matter to vacuum in the universe."
"I'm still waiting for progress."

"Colleen, put a sock in it. We've got records of beings who can transport matter 
and energy through space and time at will; and levels of reality where thought 
and thing are the same--"

"Like the Traveler!"

He looked down at me. "I should've known you'd know about it."

"Yeah! Um...so you think something like that, some being like that, dumped me 
here?"

"That's one possibility, but we'd still be left with no motive for doing it. But 
there are places, like I said, that can be reached from here, in which you 
wouldn't have to be a Traveler or anyone else who can manipulate space and 
time."

"Yeah," I thought, "maybe...maybe I just ran across a...hm. Sounds pretty damn 
farfetched."

"There's another explanation. Maybe it's you."

"ME!?"

"We know of one other human who came to the Traveler's notice and took off into 
that thought-thing reality--"

"That obnoxious git Wesley Crusher?"

"That would be him, yes."

"But he was some sort of physics genius! I can hardly balance my checkbook. I 
almost failed double-entry bookkeeping. I STILL have an Incomplete in college 
algebra!"

"As may be. There's a lot we don't know of happening here. You're a writer, 
though, and a musician, right?"

"Yeah, but I've never heard of writers or musicians or any other kind of artist 
getting sucked off to another reality because they're creative. Well, 
figuratively, yes, but not literally."

"Me neither. But that's the sort of situation we're forced to look at now, if we 
can't come up with some technologically based explanation. The way I understand 
Wesley Crusher's situation, it wasn't so much he was good at advanced 
mathematics, but that his perception of it all was unusual, creative; he saw it 
from a different perspective. It *would* account for a few things if it 
were...um..."

"Me. Why I ended up *here*, for one thing...so what's the plan now?"

"We're still looking into the quantum possibility side, the AU hypothesis, but 
if this has more to do with you than with external factors...next, what we need 
to be doing is examining *you* for anything unusual."

"I've already been examined."

"Not for any of the factors that would be relevant here; that was just a general 
check, with a little probing to be sure you were human."

My eyes got big. "Julian...?"

"Probably."

"Miles, you've gotta get me out of it. Get one of the other doctors, get ALL of 
the other doctors, get a vodoun priestess with chicken feet, but *don't* let him near me!"

"Col, *what* is so wrong with Julian? If I knew why he scared you so badly--"

"I can't tell you. Just take my word for it. You can at least try, can't you?"

He sighed. "Aye. I can try. But I can't guarantee the Captain's reaction. 
Julian's got by far the most experience with this sort of thing--"

"Not...Julian. Got it?"

"Right, then, I've said I'd try, haven't I?"
***

He didn't try hard enough.

"Colleen! Get back here! You bloody want to get home, don't you?!"

"NOT THAT BAD!" I screamed.

Well, I thought. This is what it's like getting chased by Security. At least 
Odo's not back there, if I saw him morph into anything I'd have a stroke. 

Miles obviously knew the station, and I didn't; as I was ripping around a corner 
with Miles and two brownsuits in hot pursuit, I noticed an open panel farther 
down the corridor that led into an access conduit. I dove for it, hoping to make 
it before they saw me--

Either no such luck or, more likely, they weren't dumb enough to be fooled by 
such a lame-ass trick. 

"Col, come back here! You don't know what you're doing--"

"The hell I don't! I'll come out when Doctor Stilt's off the case!" I crawled 
faster. (By the way, it's *hot* in those service conduits. All the humming 
electrical stuff, I guess, lights and such...)

"No, I mean--damn it, she's about to--here, give me that--"

He shot me in the ass.
***

I came to on a reasonably comfortable surface in a reasonably comfortable 
garment; there were hummings and chirpings in the vicinity. I wondered if I was 
still in the conduit. My butt was tingling.

No, this was an infirmary smock I had on...I had the feeling I'd be a lot more 
uncomfortable than I was if it wasn't for some sort of drug or treatment holding 
the pain behind a curtain of fog. Without opening my eyes, I said "Okay. Where's 
the sumbitch who shot me where I'll feel it for a damn long time?"

Someone took my hand and an unabashed brogue said "Right here, colleen." I dared 
to open my eyes and look over at him. He stroked my head and said "I hadn't much 
choice. You may know us, and you may know your way around a bit, but you don't 
know how this station's put together like I do. You were crawling into an 
exposed main juncture node. If I'd let you touch it you'd have roasted that 
lily-white skin into dangly black shreds."

"Cheezit, Miles, don't pad it for me, just lay it out..."

"That mean you'll maybe listen to me next time?"

I felt sick, but I was still pretty numb, and I tried not to think about how 
close I'd come to killing myself. "Um...is he here?"

"He's in the lab, since you were coming 'round."

"Nice of him. They going to restrain me and run the exam?"

"It's been run, while you were out."

"Who did it?"

"He did."

"Great. I'll just have to pretend to myself that it was someone else...I bet I'm 
headed for security now, aren't I? After the node thing."

"No, you're still with me. With one difference; instead of just staying with me, 
you'll be released from the infirmary officially into my custody."

"Which means that if I blow it again it's your ass up the flagpole, isn't it," I 
sighed. "Well, don't worry, Miles. I won't make any more trouble for you."

"I promise to keep Julian and the Colonel away from you."

"Sounds like a plan. Did you have to swear up and down I wouldn't wig out 
again?"

"Actually, it was Ezri, saying you were obviously in such a massive state of 
culture shock that it was no wonder at all you were behaving irrationally, and that you 
had developed an attachment to me, and I was more likely than anyone else to keep you 
calm."

"What a flattering damn assessment. If true. But believe me, avoiding that man 
has to be the most down-to-earth rational thing I've ever done in my life."
He helped me down and showed me where my clothes were, then left me to change. I 
must've been right frigging next to the lab. (Have we ever seen inside the lab 
in the infirmary...? I didn't get the chance.)

"How is she?"

"Damn well mortified is how she is, but she's taking it like a trooper."

"I wish I knew *what* the me in her universe has done to merit such utter 
revulsion. I'm sorry I upset her, but she won't let me show her I'm harmless."

"I think she'd feel better if I could tell her that you won't be coming anywhere 
near her again."

"I wish I could. But we might need more data; it depends on what this analysis 
turns up."

I grimly vowed to take off again if that should happen, embarrassment and 
Miles's wrist getting slapped or not. Hard vacuum, here I come.

"Maybe she could see someone else?"

"I'll ask the Captain, but if he wouldn't go for it once..."

"Col hadn't bolted like demons were after her at the prospect of being taken to 
the infirmary to see you, then."

"Actually this makes twice."

"She was startled the first time. This time it was premeditated. She intended to 
avoid you any way she could. I think she'd have jumped out an airlock."

Rah, Miles! Go team! 

"And you'd likely have jumped out after her. Go on, take her home, before I'm 
forced to inflict my toxic presence on her when I leave the lab." 

"Oh, don't be childish."

"Miles, really! *Your* pet interdimensional orphan girl--"

I'm thirty-three, damn it.

"--loathes me more thoroughly than anyone else ever has in my life--"

"Don't bet on it."

"--and she won't even look me in the eye and tell me what *her* Julian's done that's so 
horrid!"

"She says looking in your eyes makes her queasy--"

Well, it does, close enough.

"--and Julian, she's afraid of Nerys, too. Try not to take it so bloody personally."

"I know, I know...really, Miles, I *am* going to have to be in the main ward in a 
moment. You'll want to get her out of here before that."

"Right. Let me know as soon as you find anything."

"I will, even if what I find is nothing. Or that she's some part of a Dominion experiment 
in interdimensional troop placement or extratemporal assault."

"Julian, we talked about that in the wardroom..."

"Well, the Captain is concerned. He may believe *she* knows nothing about it, but she 
had to get here somehow." 

"Stop thinking with your wounded pride already. She's nobody to you, why do you care 
about her opinion of you?"

"I suppose...because I care about *your* opinion of me."

"Oh-ho. *I* have a little friend who absolutely can't stand *you*, is that it?"

"I'd hardly go that far, Miles, stop flattering yourself. And go away, I have work to do."

***
"I feel like a twit."

"Well, you are acting just a bit like one..."

"Miles, do you remember when you were flashing back and fourth through a few 
hours of time, getting steadily more radiation sick and not knowing your ass 
from a hole in the ground before it was over?"

"'Um...actually *I* don't remember that part."

"Right, you...uh, he didn't make it. But you DO remember being possessed by a 
criminal from UxMal, losing control of your own body and being forced to take 
your own wife and daughter hostage, then coming out of it and wondering if you'd 
lost your beans completely--and you remember twenty years in an Argrathi prison 
that you came to and found out never really happened, even though you remembered 
it all? Well...this is worse!"

"Colleen, calm down. I didn't say it wasn't understandable."

"Yeah, but you behaved so much better than I am through all the crap that 
happened to you, I guess I'm oversensitive...sorry. This can't be worse than all 
that."

"All depends on what you've been exposed to, col. I know that time travel is 
real; to you it's a fantasy. I know the ability to implant memories exists in 
several cultures, though I have to admit it doesn't damn well prepare you for 
the reality, and I've run across discorporate beings more than once. To you all 
this stuff is so much hooey, including traveling between universes--where my 
captain, my best friend and the woman who carried my baby have all done it." 

I sighed. "Still...do you know how many thousands, maybe millions, of people 
where I'm from would KILL for this opportunity? And what am I doing? Having a 
nervous breakdown and avoiding the two people who--um--avoiding anything too 
stressful. I'd've thought I'd be happy. But I feel so...totally out of place. I 
don't belong here at all. I never could--I'd inevitably think I'd gone 
crazy--because either way, if this is reality, and I've got thirty years of 
memories of a TOTALLY different place and life where this place is nothing but a 
pleasant diversion, that's nuts, right? But if my thirty years of memories are 
right, *this* is impossible, and I'm still crazy. Shit. I need a drink."

"Not a bad idea at all." He got up and went to the replicator. "Name your 
poison."

"Whiskey rocks. No synthehol, please."

"Wouldn't dream of it." He placed the order and came to hand me the glass. I 
took it and he sat back down. 

"Why are you so sure you could never fit in here? Well, maybe not on an old 
Cardassian ore processing station, but somewhere...though I know you've likely 
got friends and family that--"

"That's not as much of an issue; the problem is like I said--I told you. I'd 
always be one step away from breakdown. And I don't...I don't think I could 
adapt; I make a lousy Borg. And what would I do with myself? The stuff I 
write--whether it's stories about this place or my own stuff--wouldn't fly here, 
to put it mildly, and how many people are going to want to listen to the kind of 
music I do? It's gotta be...uh...about three hundred and fifty or so years out 
of date."

"Maybe you could create a renaissance."

"Singlehandedly?"

"Who knows, your stuff might go over fine. Sing me something."

"Um..." I took another sip of my drink. "Okay, let me think...let me pick a nice 
a capella piece...okay." I took one more swallow, sat up and hauled in a breath, 
and launched into "Running to Stand Still", which isn't mine, it's a U2 song, 
but it's one I've been doing a long time, accompanied or not.


He was smiling and started clapping when I was done. "Brava, colleen! That's one 
hell of a voice."

I rolled my eyes. "Miles, you'd say that--"

"--whether I believed it or not, I know, and no I wouldn't. I'd've said 'very 
nice' or something, if that wasn't what I really thought. Let's have another 
one."

"Urp..." I racked my brain, then sang "Raven's Rule," which is one of mine and 
goes better with a drum track, but which stands up okay without. He asked for 
more, and gave every evidence of enjoying it, and the longer I sang, the calmer 
I got. I started concentrating hard on the music, like I'd tried to do with the 
Virga.

Finally I slumped, and he came and sat next to me. "Feelin' better?"


"A lot better. Thanks, Miles. Say...I sang for you. Would you play your cello 
for me?"

He blinked at me. "Know about that too, eh?"

"I heard you telling Jake about it, and how you'd joined Starfleet, but that's 
the only time I've ever heard it mentioned. Do you still play?"

"Some. I'm a bit out of practice."

"So am I, and I sang anyway."

"Fair enough." He vanished into his bedroom and came back out with a cased 
cello. While he set the skid ring on the floor and got situated, I went up and 
got another drink, using the same words he had. It appeared. I stared 
suspiciously at it. "That is *far* *out*," I muttered, then reached for it, 
half-expecting my fingers to go right through it. They didn't. I came back to 
the couch and sat. He was just finishing his retuning. 

"This was my warm-up piece," he was saying. "It's not that tuneful, but I always 
play it first thing to get my hands loose."

"Feel free."

Half a dozen cello pieces and another whiskey rocks later, I had my feet up on 
the table and was slumped back on the couch with my eyes closed, listening. He'd 
been playing consecutively mellower pieces and I felt like I was floating. 
Either it's the music, or the gravity's gone out, I thought. Strangely, the idea 
produced only a brief frisson rather than a full-blown panic attack when I 
remembered just what sort of environment I was in.

He let the last note trail off, and I heard him recasing the cello, then felt 
him come settle next to me. 

"Thanks, Miles," I managed to sigh. "You got a *lot* better than 'pretty good'."

"Thank you. You're looking comfy."

"Mm."

"Why don't we take advantage of it and get you to bed. You've had a helluva 
day."

"I'll say. I don't get shot in the ass by an energy discharge weapon all that 
often."

"Col, if there'd been another way..."

"You couldn't let me fry myself, Miles, I understand." 

Ezri, it turned out, had dropped a nightgown by the place while I was in the 
infirmary, mercifully unaware of Julian's presence. The awful thing was...it 
fit. I've got more waist and less butt than Ezri/Nicole, but still... 

Before I fell asleep, I pondered what a crappy Mary Sue I make. Instead of being 
brave and insightful and landing myself the man or woman or both of my 
fantasies, I have successive heart attacks and land myself a big brother.

Oh, well. I've always sort of wanted a big brother...I could have done a lot 
worse.

For one thing, I could have missed canon completely and landed in fanfic. 
Probably one of my own. Oh, the humanity...
***

I woke up in the dark, I'm not sure how much later, hours, anyway. Miles was 
talking to someone in the front room, very quietly, probably so as not to wake 
me up, but big fat surprise I was pretty easy to wake up the whole time I was 
there. I was about to get up and eavesdrop when he stopped talking, so I laid 
still.

Sure enough, the door slid open in a moment, and he said quietly "Computer, 
quarter lights."

I blinked. He was just crouching by the bed next to me. "Is something up?" I 
wondered.

"I've got something for you." From out of sight over the bed's edge he lifted a 
black silk-and-steel-strung twelve-string jumbo acoustic. There was no logo on 
it, but it reminded me of a Takamine model I'm particularly fond of, one which 
I've never been able to afford. My eyes got huge.

"Miles...!" I was dropjawed a moment, then held my arms out and accepted it 
while he smiled at me--rather guardedly, which got my warning lights flashing, 
but for a moment all I could think about was the guitar. "How the frigging hell 
did you know?"

"You told me you play, remember?"

"I didn't tell you that this is one of my favorite..." I grabbed an open E and 
strummed; the tone was unbelievable, and the tuning was perfect. Action was a 
little high, but I always think the action's a little high, especially on 
twelve-strings. Wimpy thumb muscles, plus my calluses peel.

"Your songs reminded me of some obscure music I'd heard; it wasn't that hard to 
hunt down some examples. Guitars like this figured in a lot of it, and anyway, 
it reminded me of you, a little."

I played snatches from a couple of tunes, then said "Miles, thanks a million 
times, I'd bear you a child if you didn't already have that covered, but why'd 
you wake me up to give it to me?"

He sighed and came up to sit on the bed. "Now I don't want you panicking. We've 
got an idea--rough, but an idea--of how we might be able to get you home." 

"That should panic me?"

"It involves...leaving the station. In a runabout."

All the color--misnomer; there never *is* any color in my face--drained out of 
me. For a minute I couldn't talk.

He put a hand on my shoulder. "If we decide to go ahead and give it a shot, 
Julian--sorry, Doctor Guirani--can give you something to make it easier for you. 
Hell, they could give you something to make it all a lovely dream or something 
to knock you out, too, if that's what you want."

"Whg...ulk--why would I, uh, have to leave the..."

"Well, we're looking at it from the possibility of it being, if not you who 
initiated your little trip, at least you who selected the destination, even 
inadvertently."

"Damn straight inadvertently."

"Right. Anyway...there are beings known to us, to whom we have a channel of 
communication, who are able to manipulate space and time through the fact that 
they essentially live outside of both."

I sat there for a minute, still brain dead, then gurked out "The wormhole 
aliens? We'd be go...we'd be...I'd be in the..."

"Keep hold of yourself, colleen. Irishwomen aren't fainting flowers, right?"
That had an effect, at least coming from him. I swallowed. "Right. Right..."

"Now, Captain Sisko is debating whether we should present this to the wormhole 
aliens at all. I told him it's not impossible they were involved to begin 
with--they've performed acts before that seemed samaritanly to them and turned 
out bloody hell. They're usually okay with setting things back up differently if 
we can just make the blasted--make them understand *why* there's a problem. But 
he takes his role of Emissary very seriously, and he'll have to think about it a 
bit. Even then, the Prophets may not be able to help. But I thought you'd want 
to know as soon as we came up with a plan..."

"I do. I did. Thanks, Miles. And, uh, thanks again for the pacifier, here."
"Play it in good health." He put his other hand on my other shoulder and kissed 
my forehead. I started to mist up, which I hate.
***

"Good afternoon, miss Champagne. Are you lost?"

"Ack! Oh. Uh, hi, Garak. I was looking for Ezri's office. I'm supposed to meet 
Miles."

"Ah. Allow me." He held his arm out in an after-you gesture. "I am familiar with 
the location."

"Thanks. I guess you would be."

"By the way, your answer is yes."

"My...?"

"When we were first...introduced. You asked me a question."

"I did? Oh, I did. Ezri's helping, then."

"Indeed. I find myself pleasantly surprised with her ability."

"Having her as a therapist *is* sorta redolent of the inmates overrunning the 
asylum." 

"I admit I initially thought so as well."

"The first time I saw you flip out, I thought it was strange you and I would 
have something in common."

"The...oh yes, your...insights into our pasts. When was the first time you 
saw...my unease?"

"In the Jem'Hadar prison. With Worf and Martok and Julian and...um..."

"You can say it."

"And Tain. I thought you pulled yourself together really well. Better than I 
usually did."

"Then the tendency to episodes of metabolic distress would be what you referred 
to as our common characteristic."

"You can say that again. I've had some lulus. The last one when I..." 

"Was trapped in a cramped location?"

"When I had all that SPACE out there rammed up my nose. Opposite stimulus from 
yours, I guess."

"But the same reaction."

"Mm. How does it start with you?"

"It?"

"The fits."

"I...notice my pulse, and then I have difficulty..."

"Focusing your eyes? Me too. Then my skin starts crawling..."

"...after which comes a nearly irresistible urge to fling oneself into a wall."

"To make it stop, yeah. Sometimes I actually do bang my head on something."

"I gave myself a black eye that way once."

"Then we can't get any air..."

"At which point, we begin to pray we faint."

"Sometimes we do..."

"Do you become nauseous?"

"I did when I was little. Sometimes still."

"Does anything besides the bottomless pit of space bring them on with you?"


"Oh yeah. Sometimes they'd show up for no reason. No reason I could see, at 
least."

"I've had similar experience."

"Sort of nice you're here. Everyone around here is so weird and yet so 
well-adjusted. It gets annoying."

"They *can* be rather smug in their stability, can't they? Though that is 
something of a Federation characteristic."

"I've noticed that too. Especially in Julian."

"Oh, definitely. I've sat on more than one 'episode' rather than expose myself 
to him in that state."

"Really! I know how you feel in more ways than one. Panic attacks are so 
embarrassing. I mean, it's not like we've got a neurological disorder doing this 
to us. We're just bent in the head."

"You think it's embarrassing for you..."

"Yeah, I can see a guy in your position getting knocked slantwise by something 
like this...Garak?"

He had stopped walking, outisde Ezri's door; I did too. He raised his brow at me 
in inquiry.

"Could I...touch that ridge?"

"...if you like."

"Sorry. Sort of a personal request, isn't it?"

"Quite all right, my dear. I'm told you've never been exposed to sentient 
nonhumans. Here." He picked up my hand and laid it on his neck. I had a 
tentative grope--firm but elastic, not as cold as I'd expected, and the scales 
themselves are soft--and let go. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." He bowed and started on his way again, paused and looked 
back at me. "I mean that literally."

"Oh! Um, yes, of course."

He nodded and continued on.
*** 

"I can see why you wanted to break it to me in Ezri's office."

"Are you dead sure you're all right?"

"Peachy. Which way to ore processing so I can hide in a bin?"

"Oh, colleen..." He came over and put his arms around me. I leaned on him and 
closed my eyes.

"You *are* coming too, right?"

"Of course. Wouldn't miss it. Come on; let's invent some duets for cello and 
guitar, since we've got some time to kill."

"And we don't want me stewing. 

"Me either, sweetie."

"Okay, let's play."
***

"Colleen...you're nuts."

"When I tried to tell *you* that, you shushed me."

"There's no reason to put yourself through this."

"I've been a useless flake the entire time I've been here. If I do one brave 
thing in my life....come on, let's go, I'm going through my supply of guts fast, 
here."

"Sort of a meaningless brave thing, sweetie. We'll get you to the wormhole one 
way or another."

"Forget the trank already!"

"She sounds determined, Chief."

"Yeah, she is. Irish through and through. Let's take 'er out."

The runabout began to rise with the pad. I began to regret my bravado. 

"Initiating launch sequence," Sisko said. 

I shut my eyes. 

By the time I opened them, we were approaching the wormhole, according to Miles. 
I'd've held them open with calipers if I had to. I wasn't going to miss this, 
mass freakout or no. I told myself to think of it as a laser show, at least 
until I was back...well, back somewhere less precarious, anyway. 

It was a little less spectacular than I'd been expecting. By the time it opens, 
you're right in front of it. You don't get to see much but a WHOLE lot of light. 

Inside was another story. I couldn't watch long. Thank God for inertial dampers; 
if I'd been able to *feel* all that motion, all that moving blue and white 
light, I'd have thrown up. Well, I'd've been dead, too, but anyway...

Then Sisko and Miles stopped us before we could emerge.

"I bet I know the drill now," I managed to choke. "We wait."

Miles turned his chair toward mine and took my hand. "We wait *together*."

"Right. Thanks, Miles."

We didn't have to wait long. Sisko gets their attention pretty quick these days, 
especially since he saved all their asses, I'd guess. 

Suddenly my heartbeat was extremely loud. Existing linearly in a non-linear 
spacetime is noisy, I guess. We were in Ops. Everything looked a lot more vivid 
than usual. Miles was still holding my hand.

"You ever done this, Miles?"

"No, actually."

"Don't worry," Sisko said. "I have."

I heard footsteps echoing behind me. I turned; it was Kira. I'd been hoping we 
wouldn't wind up at an old band practice of mine or something; I guess there 
were two of Miles and Sisko and one of me, and I knew this place and these 
people, too.

"The Sisko is distressed," Kira said.

"I am...worried about someone," Sisko replied.

"Worried."

"Yes. A fellow human has been displaced in time, space...maybe in reality, 
altogether. We don't know how or why, or how we can help her. We were hoping you 
might know something that would--"

A dazzle of white light, and we were in Miles's quarters. Molly sat on the sofa 
watching us. Keiko was examining us all critically. "Another linear creature..."
"Yes. She is human, as I said. But something has removed her from her own place 
and brought her here..."

Another dazzle, and we were in the infirmary. Some sort of data was running 
across the various screens; some of the med staff were standing around staring 
at it, including Julian. He said "You believe we may be involved." 

"It did occur to us," Sisko said. Julian looked over at him.

"We are not," he said.

Sisko wet his lips. "Then...can you tell us who *is*? Has any information come through 
the communications relay, or through any other route, that might indicate who did bring 
her here?"       

Dazzle. A cluttered room that contained workstations like Ops had, or Jadzia's lab did. 
Once again, data was running on the screens. A Bajoran I didn't know, in a brown 
uniform was seated at a station, observing it. "We do not know her existence. She is one 
of yours?"

"In a sense. She's human, and she seems to be from some version of Earth."

The woman turned the chair and looked at us. "She is corporeal."

"That's true. Even if you weren't responsible for bringing her here, you do have the ability 
to manipulate space and time. That may be enough to help her, to return her to her own 
place."

"Place..."

"Her home. Her own reality."

"She is corporeal." Dazzle. Oh, hell. My backyard in Lincoln. The last time I'd seen this 
place, I was seven years old.

"I believe we've established that." He looked at me. "Is this your home?"

"It was once," I managed to get out. "Close enough for rock and roll."

"I forgot to ask you what that means, exactly," Miles murmured, squeezing my hand.

"Can you at least help us figure out where she's from in relation to us? If we knew that, 
perhaps we could return her ourselves."

Dazzle. The parking lot of my apartment building. Fortunately the dumpster appeared to 
have been emptied recently.

From behind me, a voice--an old guitarist of mine, Julie--said "You exist here."

"I wish I was existing here..."

"This is your place."

"Yes."

Dazzle. Back in Ops. Kira looked at Sisko. "We have no knowledge of her existence."

"Of course you do. She's right here."

"She is corporeal," Keiko repeated.     

Kira stepped closer to him, nailing him with that bright brown gaze. "She is not of 
Bajor."

"She is if I say she is, and I just made her a Bajoran citizen."

"The Sisko means well."

"And you've done numerous things for people, meaning well, too."

Dazzle. Jadzia's lab, and there she was, all six and something feet of her, hands folded 
behind her back, eyes brilliant. Miles's hand tightened on mine as he whispered almost 
inaudibly "Hello, Jadzia." 

She spoke. "They were of Bajor. As you are of Bajor."

"Are you saying you've got a nationality restriction?"

"We do not know her existence."

He paused, then said "Wait...you *can't* help her? Because she isn't of Bajor? Corporeal, 
and not of Bajor...does 'no knowledge of her existence' mean she is beyond your power to 
affect?"

"She is corporeal." Dazzle. The interior of a lightship; present was the poet Sisko had 
briefly acceded the position of Emissary to. One of the Prophet's good-neighbor help 
cases. Maybe they were trying to make a point. All he said, though, was "We must know 
her existence."

"Then you can learn? Can you learn what you need to know to help her?"

"There is no assurance..."

"But you're willing to try."

"The Sisko wishes this?"

"I do. Emphatically."

Dazzle. Back in the runabout. Miles still holding my hand. Through the ports was 
only light. Miles turned back to his station, and said "Sir, we've got an 
atmosphere forming out there. M class." There was a bump. "We've set down 
somewhere, sir."

Sisko was quiet a moment, then said "Well. It's been a while since I was 
*here*." He tapped controls and stood. "Let's go."

"Go where?" Miles wondered.

"Outside. I think the Prophets would like to find out a bit about our guest's 
existence."

"Outside?" I said faintly. 

"I'll be right beside you," Miles said. "The Prophets wouldn't do anything to 
harm the Captain, and we're with him. Stiff upper lip, now--this could get you 
home."

I nodded, giving myself a few mental roundhouses for refusing the trank.
We got up and went to the door. Outside was a rocky plain; lightning crashed on 
all sides, but not so close we seemed in immediate danger. Overhead, an orb 
hourglass-shape appeared. I gritted in an agonized voice "Miles..."

"Steady, now."

"They probably want to scan you," Sisko said. "It doesn't hurt." 
Yeah, well, I'd seen this ep. Jadzia and Sisko got sucker-punched by their orb 
thing after it was done scanning them. Of course, it didn't know them at the 
time...no more than it knew me.

I was briefly blinded by a beam of golden light in my eyes; in just a moment it 
was gone.

Dazzle. Miles and Sisko and I in the white space. Standing near us was my niece, 
Sarah, in her gymnastics outfit. "We make the attempt. There is no assurance," 

she said.

"You need information you can't get?"

"We know her existence."

"Then why is there--"

"She must know her existence."

I stood there dumb as all three of them looked at me.

I cleared my throat, but I still wheezed when I spoke. "How...how do you mean?"

"We may not help the Sisko."

"Come again?" 

"I think she means," Sisko said softly, "that they can't send you home for me. 
It has to be for you. They can't reach your 'existence' unless you're sure of what it is, and 
you're in it."

"Is that what you mean?" I whispered.

Sarah said "You are unsure of your existence. We cannot alter what is, so."

"I'm lost," I managed to get out without bursting into tears.

"Maybe she means," Miles said, "that you aren't clear about...where you are. 
Where you want to be, maybe I should say."

"I've gotta really want to go home before they can send me home? Is that it? I 
DO want to go home."

"You are unsure of your existence," Sarah repeated.

"Oh, hell..." I muttered. Like any red-blooded Trek fan, part of me wanted to be 
here. There's a reason people like Trek--lots of them; the Federation is 
civilized, without such widespread rampant childishness and personal, hidden 
agendas; tolerance and fair play are built as well into the codes of their law 
system and their cultural mores as it's possible to do; there's much less 
suffering than in our world, less want, more freedom, more safety...who wouldn't 
want to live in a place like that?

But in the end...it isn't a real place. It's an ideal, maybe, it contains values 
very much worth striving for, but when all's said...

"I can't live here," I whispered, then looked up at Sarah. "I can't live here," 
I repeated. "For me, this place isn't real. I can't spend my life in it. And all 
the things I said to you, Miles, about why I would never fit in? They're all 
still true. I can't..." somewhere inside, I thought I could feel my heart thud 
unnaturally. "I have to go back to my reality."

"We make the attempt," Sarah said, no change in her expression or vocal 
inflection. "The Sisko must depart."

"You want us to leave her here alone?"

"You do not share existence."

"I think she means we'll be in the way," Miles said quietly.

The dazzle was gone. We were back on the rocky ground, surrounded by the storms, 
the runabout behind us. 

I threw myself on Miles, and he hugged me tight. "Ever been to Ireland, col?" he 
whispered to me. I shook my head. "Make the trip sometime. I know you'll think 
it's worth it. So will Ireland, I guarantee you." 

I tried to wipe my face, and he did it for me, with his sleeve. "You'll be fine, 
lass. You'll come to no grief with the Prophets...not today, anyway."

"Thank you for everything, Miles," I said. "I'll miss you."

"Just pretend I'm that Colm fellow of yours." He smiled and hugged me again, 
then let me go. 

Sisko held out his hand to me. "A safe journey, Ms. Shults. It's a pleasure to 
have met you."

I shook his hand. "Same to you, Captain. Oh, and Miles--" I looked back at him. 

"Would you tell Julian and Nerys that I don't hate them? That I care very much 
about them and I think they're fabulous people?"

Miles didn't get the double entendre; he just rolled his eyes. "Why doesn't that 
surprise me?"

Sisko put a hand on his shoulder and they reentered the runabout. As it started 
to rise from the rock, my knees gave way and I sat down hard, eyes closed.

"Well," I said. My teeth were chattering. "Let's...let's go, here, people. Let's 
get this show on the--"

The orb flew down to me and suddenly there was nothing but golden light. 
I opened my eyes, lying on the floor in front of my computer, which was on. I 
started to get up, then collapsed again, my head spinning, not with any effect 
of the trip but with confusion, anxiety, and the nasty suspicion that I was 
going to regret the choice I'd just made for the rest of my life. I had to cry 
for a long time before I could manage to get up.

According to my computer clock, it was the same day that I'd landed on the 
deckplates on DS9. 

I sat in my desk chair and stared at the clock for a long time, then, too.

I guess I'll never know if it was real or not. I have a history of weird sleep 
occurrences. I could have fainted, I could have dreamed...but part of me is 
utterly convinced it happened, and I'll tell you why.

They do have toilets in outer space, specifically, on Nor stations, despite the 
fact we've never seen one in the entire history of Trek. I'm not going to tell you what 
they're like, but I can tell you this; I personally could NEVER have dreamed THAT up.