INTERLUDE FOUR
“Love is the triumph of imagination
over intelligence.”
Jadzia said, “You’re a fool, and deep down—or maybe not so deep
down—you know it.”
Ezri frowned.
She had been here before, and yet hadn’t been: The symbiont pools
on Trill were Dax’s original home, of course; and, for its current host, the
closest she would ever again come to the comfort of a womb.
In this context, though, she didn’t feel comforted.
“Wh–what am I doing here? What are you talking about?”
Her predecessor smiled and then sank beneath the pool’s surface.
Ezri wondered briefly if the peculiar conversation had already ended … but,
from behind, the roar and lingering jingle of cascading water disabused her of
that almost hopeful notion.
Jadzia had arisen to stand waist deep. Even in the cavern’s
subdued light, she glistened, her hair slicked back by the water, exposing
those perfect facial features while not quite
strategically concealing her other … attributes—an apparition of loveliness
that did little to reassure Ezri of her own attractiveness. She was cute, and
nothing more.
Jadzia was—had been—a classic
beauty.
“Don’t pretend with me, young lady,” she scolded. “I may not be
you, precisely, but we’ve both been Dax—despite the fact that only one of us
actually earned it.”
Before the younger woman could even formulate a reply to that, Jadzia returned to her main point.
“Since you’re going to be obtuse about this, though, I’ll lay it
out for you. I’m talking about Julian.
“He doesn’t really love
you. Surely you can see that.”
Only now did Ezri attempt to rally.
“You’re simply a manifestation of my unconscious fears—a figment
of my imagination,” she asserted, but her tone wavered even as she spoke, and
Jadzia continued her assault.
“Even if that were the case, it doesn’t change the facts, now does
it?” Her upper lip curled into a sneer. “You’re a trained psychologist—well, a half-trained psychologist, anyway. Just
for a minute put aside what you think
you want, take up your ‘professional’ objectivity … and tell me what any
counselor not named Ezri would advise
you about your relationship with Julian.
Ezri had ignored it as best she could for the better part of a
year, but the point was undeniable.
“They’d tell me …” She hesitated, and then, at long last, admitted,
“…that it isn’t a very good idea.”
The smile Jadzia now wore seemed more of a smirk.
“No. They’d tell you that Julian was acting out his unrequited
love for me with you. They’d tell you that your insecurity and desperate need
to belong at DS9 had deluded you into accepting his desire for you at face
value. They’d tell you that he’d needed
to have you, because I was the one woman he’d wanted and never had, and that
his genetically-enhanced ego couldn’t abide that.”
Jadzia had drawn closer, and now Ezri was forced to tilt her head
back just to meet her opponent’s gaze.
“You can’t be Jadzia,”
she accused. “You would never say
such terrible things about Julian if you were.”
The target of her assertion shrugged.
“That’s a not-so-clever attempt to dismiss the facts. You know I haven’t said anything that isn’t
true.”
Her smile this time, though, didn’t contain either disdain or
triumph. Instead, it seemed almost kindly.
“Julian and I were friends, Ezri. Friends accept each other for
who they are, rather than attempting to change them into what we think they should be. He has many
wonderful qualities; I’d never deny that.
“That said …
“…he might believe in serial monogamy, but Julian’s had plenty of
‘serial’ over the time we’ve both known him. And, romantically speaking, he has
a pretty short attention span, to boot. Let’s review a bit, shall we? In the
five-and-a-half or so years here before you came along, he was involved with an
Elaysian for whom he created a ‘cure,’ in no small part because he wanted to be
with her … carried on a rather lascivious and mostly sexual affair with Nog’s
future wife, Leeta … fell hard for one of the genetic ‘accidents’ who visited
here some years ago … chased and caught numerous
other women with whom he became infatuated, including current and former
patients, while conveniently forgetting or ignoring conflicts of interest and
professional decorum—all while still ‘loving’ me. You’ve plumbed Curzon’s
memories, so you know the type. Why
do you think I was so resistant … and you were so vulnerable? I may have been a
bit of a party animal, granted, but
casual sex was Curzon’s thing, not
mine ... and I wasn’t interested in someone who’d lose interest soon after the
novelty wore off.”
Now they were nearly face to face.
“See things for what they are. If, after everything I’ve said, you
still think your relationship is for the best, then at least it’ll be your
informed decision. But don’t just plug your ears and close your eyes. You’re
smarter than that … and even if you aren’t, you’re a Dax...” She seized Ezri by
the shoulders and shook her, gently.
“…so you’d better get with the program.”
Ezri, reeling, shook herself free and staggered back, acquiring
both physical and, she hoped, emotional distance.
The elder Trill did not pursue.
It didn’t seem like a dream, or even as if Jadzia had imposed
herself on her consciousness. That feeling was all too familiar, but
fortunately nothing like this. And while Ezri felt Dax, as she always did, the
symbiont was silent, somnolent—as if someone had lulled or drugged it to sleep.
Jadzia was—of course—a step ahead of her.
“I don’t understand how I’m talking to you like this, either … but
I do know that I am Jadzia—not Jadzia Dax, just Jadzia, in the same
way that, right now, you’re just Ezri.”
Her lovely brow furrowed, then smoothed.
“Call me a … katric remnant.”
Abruptly, Jadzia glanced back, as if she’d heard someone calling,
then refocused her attention on Ezri.
“I’ve got to go. I’m sorry if I seemed harsh. I just want to see
you live your life, and not what
remains of mine. OK?”
Despite her upset, Ezri managed a small smile and a tremulous, “OK.”
“Well, now that we’ve got that
taken care of …” Jadzia began to slip deeper into the water. “…have a good
one.”
On an impulse, Ezri asked, “Hey … did you ever make it to Sto-vo-kor?”
Jadzia’s descent slowed, but did not cease.
“That would be telling, wouldn’t it?”
Ezri watched with more than a bit of envy as those flawless
rose-tipped breasts and ivory shoulders disappeared. Before her chin immersed,
Jadzia spoke again.
“Would you give Worf a message for me?”
“Of course.”
“Tell him that K’Ehleyhr and I have reached an understanding…” She
grinned wickedly. “…and that she still falls for the Kud’uch Maneuver every time.”
And with that, she slipped beneath the surface and was gone.
The water seemed so inviting, and Ezri herself now sank into it,
allowing its embrace to reassure her…
…until her eyes opened again, this time to the sight of her
darkened quarters.
She arose, ran a hand through her hair in a half-hearted attempt
to tame her bed head, and then donned her duty uniform, determinedly attempting
to think about nothing at all while so doing.
Her determination proved less than sufficient to the task.
Ezri set out first for the Infirmary, and then, remembering the
time, turned towards Julian’s quarters.
She never reached them. Instead, she found herself wandering the
almost silent Promenade, feeling as if she were searching for
something—answers, or perhaps simply a friend.
When she felt the gentle touch of a hand on her shoulder, and
turned to see a Vulcan woman, dressed in the habit and robes of a religious
order, Ezri Dax didn’t question why she was there.
She just asked her
question.
“Can you tell me what a ‘katric remnant’ is?”
“I can,” said T’Vaar.
“And I will.”