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The door opens shortly after Jadzia rings the chime, but O’Brien’s quarters are empty as she steps in. The absence of Keiko and the kids makes the space between the bulkheads too wide, the living room cavernous and badly lit.
“Chief?” she says loudly, not sure if Miles is going to hear her. “It’s Dax. I brought you the report on the repairs to Pylon 3.”
“I’ll be there in a minute! Make yourself at home.”
The Chief’s voice from one from the adjacent rooms immediately puts Jadzia at ease, and she sits down on the couch. As she does so, however, she catches something move fast at the periphery of her field of vision, like a gray blur, from under the couch to one of the armchairs in the room.
Jadzia’s blood runs cold, and she can’t seem to be able to tear her eyes from the patch of darkness under that armchair. “Chief, I’m not sure,” she begins, loud enough so he can hear her, “but I think the voles may have nested in your quarters while you were away.”
“What?” There’s a stomping noise, and Miles appears in the doorframe at Jadzia’s left side, barefoot and without the uniform jacket on. “Are you sure?”
“I saw something running on the floor then hiding under the armchair,” she explains, gesturing to the piece of furniture in question.
Unexpectedly, Miles’ stance relaxes. “Oh, that’s probably just Chester.”
“Chester?”
Instead of replying, Miles just crouches in front of the armchair and takes a look under it. “Yup, it’s him. Moving to the station was a bit traumatic for him,” he continues, still kneeling on the floor, “so he’s a bit skittish around strangers. He’s still getting used to my quarters.” The confusion must be plain on Jadzia’s face because Miles chuckles as soon as he looks back at her. “He’s a cat.”
A cat. The memories from several hosts align neatly in her mind at hearing the word: Earth mammals, quadrupeds, fur (of various colors and patterns), whiskers, triangular ears. Then there are some memories that belonged to Jadzia even before the joining: she’d been delighted to find out that cats liked to be petted and often purred in response, like tribbles.
“You know Chief,” she says, “I always get confused with Earth animals. Which ones are cats and which ones are dogs again?”
“Well, dogs are generally bigger but—” he stops as soon as he notices the smile on her face. “You’re pulling my leg.”
“A little,” Jadzia confesses. “When did you get a cat anyway?”
“He was— a friend’s. He died, and I couldn’t bear to leave Chester in the hands of a stranger. So I brought him on the station.”
By the evasiveness of Miles’ answer Jadzia guesses that it has to do with the recent mission the Chief was involved in at the request of Starfleet Intelligence, so she doesn’t press for more details. Now curious about Miles’ new houseguest, she rises from the couch and joins Miles on the floor beside the armchair, then peeks under it. There Chester is, green eyes wide with what Jadzia guesses is fear, his long grey and white fur puffed around him in the tight confines of his hiding place.
She doesn’t need to scare the poor animal any further so she straightens up to address the Chief. “Do you think Chester will get used to the station?”
“I hope so, eventually. It’ll take time though. Cats love their habits, and Chester’s life turned upside down all of a sudden.”
“Is he always this afraid of people?”
“He isn’t when I’m alone with him. He was friendly with strangers in his former home, and I hope he’ll get comfortable enough here to go back to his old habits.”
Jadzia remembers well how it was to be scared, alone in a foreign place: most of her third year of Academy had been like that, her nights plagued with nightmares of rejection and failure after she washed out of the Initiate Program. Funnily enough, that was the time when she had found out about the cats that lived in her dorm and didn’t belong to any particular student; Jadzia had spent countless night stubbornly wading through her quantum mechanics and advanced warp theory assignments, with those cats her only company.
“If there’s anything I can do to help, Chief, don’t hesitate to tell me.”
“’Behavioral patterns of domestic cats’. That sounds incredibly dull to read first thing in the morning.”
Jadzia lifts her gaze to face Julian, who was reading her PADD from above her left shoulder. “Bold statement coming from someone who has tried to read The Neverending Sacrifice while having breakfast for an entire month.”
“You’re never going to let that go, are you.”
“Nope.” She grins in response.
Julian raises his hands. “Alright, you win.” He takes his usual seat in front of her. “Are you planning on having a debate about Terran felines?”
Jadzia puts the PADD on the table. “No, I was just wondering if there was any way to help the Chief with his cat. He seemed so scared when I visited — the cat, I mean.”
“Ah, I know what you mean. Miles brought Chester to the Infirmary to make sure he had all the vaccinations required to stay on the station, and he squirmed so much that it took me half an hour to do something that usually requires no more than ten minutes.”
Jadzia stares at him. “I didn’t know you were also a veterinarian.”
“I’m not, but I took a couple of exams at the Academy. Enough to help in situations like Chester’s.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal, like anyone could have done it. The fact that Jadzia had never heard of this before tells her it’s another of those things related to the part of himself that Julian still considers shameful, despite the year that had passed since the secret of his augmentation had been made public.
Not for the first time, Jadzia wishes she had any idea idea how to reach out to Julian. She’s too old to not notice the way they have been drifting off, Julian hiding constantly behind excuses and jokes. It’s only gotten worse after she and Worf had announced their intention to marry and the implication is obvious, though Julian has kept, as always, things to himself. She’s a fool for worrying about a cat when her situation with Julian is so complicated, but there’s also very little she can do if Julian doesn’t take the first step. Chester seems almost more approachable.
“Cats like their space,” Julian continues, unaware of her thoughts. “I said the same thing to Miles, you have to be patient with them, assure them you’re not a threat nor a nuisance. Don’t try touch them if they don’t feel like it. I suppose a few treats might help as well.”
“You make it sound so simple,” Jadzia replies, and she’s not sure if she’s thinking only of cats when she says the words.
Julian laughs. “I know it isn’t. Miles has been cancelling all our holosuite time for the past two weeks because he’s afraid that Chester might feel lonely if he’s absent for too long,” he says, with all too obvious annoyance at the disruption of his routine.
“I had no idea this situation was stressing the Chief so much.”
“I think he just misses Keiko and the kids, and what happened with Starfleet Intelligence is obviously weighing on him,” Julian shrugs. Again that easy façade, like he doesn’t really care, but Jadzia knows Julian too well to be fooled.
That settles it; if she can’t do anything else for Julian at least she can do this.
“Do you think the Chief would agree to go out more if someone checked on the cat while he’s out?”
“I think so?”
“Then I just might volunteer for that.”
“Are you sure?” Julian asks dubiously. “I don’t even know if Trills are allergic to cats.”
“I can’t speak for my entire species, of course, but I’m reasonably sure I’m not allergic to cat fur.”
Julian is trying very hard to not smile. “Why do I get the feeling that this is another one of your experiments?”
Jadzia swats his forearm lightly. “I’m trying to help you, in case it wasn’t clear. Do you really mind so much?”
“Not at all. But it’s very much like you, to try and befriend the newest addition to the population of DS9.” There’s fondness in his voice, and Jadzia can’t deny that he’s right about that.
“I didn’t know you had me so neatly classified,” Jadzia teases.
“One of my hobbies,” Julian says, leaning back on his chair. “Trying to understand people.”
Jadzia raises an eyebrow, but there’s no way to inquire how much of that statement is a joke and how much is true. Unless he starts to speak plainly with her again there’s little she can do. She just hopes that spending more time with Miles will help Julian with his moodiness, and that someday soon he’ll open up to her again.
“Come on Julian,” she says, raising from her chair, “our shifts start soon.”
Julian follows her readily, and for the rest of the day they only talk about work.
“Did your family ever have cats while you lived on Earth?”
Worf shifts besides her on the mattress, and Jadzia can feel, other than hear, the low grumble he makes at being questioned when the lights are off.
“We did not. My mother is allergic to cats,” he replies eventually.
“Oh, pity.”
“You are not thinking about keeping one, I hope.”
Jadzia bites back a laugh. “I didn’t know you were so opposed to having pets. What if I wanted one?”
After a few seconds, Worf replies: “I am not opposed to keeping animals. But cats are stubborn, lazy creatures. Providing them with food never seems to satisfy them, and they refuse to obey any command.”
Keeping the laughter at bay it’s becoming more and more difficult. “I’m sure you aren’t put off by the fact that they purr like tribbles.”
“That does not help,” Worf replies, almost a snarl.
Recognizing that further teasing now would only irritate Worf, Jadzia turns around to face her husband. “Don’t worry,” she says, “I have no intention of getting a cat, I was just wondering if you knew anything about them. I’m supposed to look after Chief O’Brien’s cat and help him get used to the station, but I think he’s still scared of me. When I went to check on him tonight he didn’t come out of his hiding place, despite my best efforts.”
“Hmm.” Worf is silent for a long time, and Jadzia is already drifting off when she hears his voice again. “I kept a friend’s cat for a while, on the Enterprise. It was — not terrible, but it required a lot of patience. You have to be patient as well.”
Patience, patience. Everyone tells her the same thing. Hazily, Jadzia thinks of the children she’s raised, of enduring long sessions at the Trill Assembly, the hours spent perfecting her gymnastic program before competitions. The nights spent on her assignments so she could do the impossible and re-enter the Initiate Program.
“I think I might just have to use all my previous hosts’ knowledge for this,” she mumbles, before succumbing to sleep.
The doors open shortly after she rings the chime, but Miles’ living room is empty, the Chief nowhere to be seen. As Ezri steps inside and the doors close behind her she’s hit with a strong sense of dejà-vu: she definitely was in a similar situation before, but can’t seem to place exactly when it happened, or if she was even in Miles’ quarters.
Frowning once again at her own messy recollections, she tries to get back on task. “Chief, it’s Dax. Worf told me he gave you the keys to my storage. Well, Jadzia’s storage. But it should only contains items meant for me. Or well, any future host.” She stops, knowing all too well that she’s rambling, but the topic is bound to make her; it’s hard to say what she means when it comes to her past hosts, most notably when it comes to Jadzia.
“I’ll be there in a minute!” The Chief calls from another room.
Ezri links her hand behind her back. She’s in no rush, and she can appreciate having the time to re-familiarize herself with Miles’ quarters with her own eyes. The living room looks somewhat livelier than her memories suggested, but perhaps it’s because a lot of the space is now occupied by a big model of a building that Ezri can’t recognize, probably something from Earth. By the tools lying around Ezri guesses that the Chief is spending a lot of his free time tinkering with this project.
A movement at the periphery of her vision catches her attention, something white-ish shifting under the table that supports the model. Delight fills her chest as soon as she identifies the cause.
“Chester!” She says, reaching down to pet the wide-eyed cat.
But as soon as she tries to approach him Chester runs aways and hides under the armchair, leaving Ezri with her hand in midair, puzzled and disappointed.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” she murmurs, crouching down near Chester’s hiding place, “I know I’ve been away for some time, but it’s just me.”
As soon as the words are out of her mouth, however, her mistake becomes apparent.
“Oh. Of course you don’t recognize me. I look different, sound different. Smell different. And if I tell you that I have Jadzia’s memories, it won’t mean much to you at all, will it.”
How fitting that even Miles’ cat is scared and confused by Ezri’s presence. She closes her eyes and gulps, trying to rein in the tears. She’s been crying so much since she got back on DS9, it feels like she risks dehydration if she keeps that up.
“Lieutenant?”
Miles is looking at her with some concern, and blood rushes to Ezri’s neck: he has probably heard her talking to Chester. She stands up, trying to look more dignified than she feels at being caught having the beginning of an emotional breakdown because of a cat. The sympathetic look on Miles’ face makes it all worse.
“Yes, uh. As I was saying, I think you have the key to my storage locker.”
“I do, let me get it.” He walks to the other side of the room, where he opens a sideboard then frowns. “Just one sec,” he adds, before starting to rummage inside.
Ezri has time to glance again at the armchair under which Chester has disappeared: it’s the same armchair where he went to hide the first time she’d seen him. Well, that Jadzia had seen him. Chester is just another inhabitant of the station she can’t really reach the way Jadzia did, and no matter how Ezri wishes things would be different that probably won’t change anytime soon. An appropriate metaphor, she thinks with some bitterness.
“Here it is,” the Chief says, startling Ezri out of her thoughts. He’s handing her a rectangular key, which she reflexively takes in her hands. The key of Jadzia’s storage locker.
“Thank you Chief.” She gulps, trying to steady her still wavering voice. “I’ll leave you to your evening,” she says avoiding further eye-contact, then turns towards the door.
“Lieutenant,” the voice of the Chief compels her to stop. “Ezri. I— will have to leave with the Defiant in a few days. I realize you might be busy, but I was wondering if you’d be available to check on Chester while I’m away?”
“I— might be able to find the time,” Ezri says, not turning around. She’ll definitely start crying if she does. “But I’m not sure he’ll be happy to be with me.”
“You won him over once already.”
That’s true enough. “Is Chester still fond of nutritional supplement 221?”
“Just as much as he still likes meowing for no reason at 0400 hours and sleeping on my uniform jacket,” Miles says, chuckling.
Ezri turns around to face Miles. “Some things never change,” she comments, amused. It takes some effort to not grin at the prospect of having a second chance after all, like she’s a kid being offered more sweets. “I’ll be very glad to keep Chester some company while you’re away.”
“Thank you, I appreciate it.”
Ezri shakes her head. “Thank you, Miles.”
Two weeks after Norvo has been sentenced to thirty years in prison, Ezri is absentmindedly stirring her chamomile tea, the bustling replimat around her only a droning background for her grim thoughts. She’s still trying to get her head clear enough to start her shift when Julian plops into the chair in front of her.
“Good morning,” he says, way too cheerfully for Ezri to deal with.
“Morning,” she mumbles in reply, keeping her eyes on her mug.
“You’re still not sleeping well, uh.”
Now Ezri is downright annoyed. “Were the bags under my eyes that gave that away?”
“That, and the fact that you didn’t hear me the first two times I greeted you.”
A pang of guilt replaces her irritation. She’s not paying attention to her surroundings very much lately, and Julian has zero-ed on the cause immediately. She hasn’t had a good night of sleep in weeks.
“Look, I get it,” Julian continues. “What happened to you and your family is still affecting you. But you’re starting to worry me, and there’s no shame in taking a sleeping aid every now and then. Getting some rest could even help you process your situation better.”
Ezri shoots him skeptical look. “Is this an attempt to appeal to my professional knowledge?”
Julian raises his arms. “Guilty as charged. But seriously, I’m worried about you. Both as your doctor and as your friend.”
Ezri exhales, cupping the lukewarm mug with both hands. “I don’t know what to do. I still have a hard time believing that my brother, my best friend for so many years, has murdered a woman — I keep going back and forth, wondering if there were signs that I missed, but I—” she trails off, shaking her head. She’s had this conversation several times now, with Ben, with Kira, and Julian as well. Her thoughts are stuck in a loop, and she hasn’t been able to break free from it for more than a few hours a day.
“Is Miles still not talking to you?” Julian asks sympathetically.
“No, and I can’t blame him. He went all the way to New Sydney to find Morica Bilby and then—” she closes her eyes. “It’s all just a mess.”
“He can’t keep that up forever. None of this is your fault.”
“It’s still my brother who killed Morica. That fact won’t change.”
“Ezri, you can’t be held responsible for what any member of your family does,” Julian says, with unexpected gravity. “Your brother made a terrible choice, but that was only his own— and yes I know all about your family’s situation. It was still only his decision and his responsibility. You can understand why he did it, and wish it didn’t happen, but that doesn’t make it your fault. You can’t blame yourself for it.”
Julian’s words are heavy and forceful, and Ezri blinks in surprise. Julian’s family history comes back at the forefront of her mind; of course he feels strongly about this.
“Maybe you’re right,” she admits, lowering her eyes, “I’ve been wallowing a bit.”
Julian reaches out to her and squeezes her left hand. When Ezri looks up she finds Julian watching her: there’s kindness in his eyes, his earlier severity gone.
“Miles and I will need to be on the Defiant the day after tomorrow,” he says softly, eyes crinkling with amusement. “He will need someone to look after Chester.”
“Julian,” she warns him. “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll talk to him, you’ll see. Oh, and I expect you to report to the Infirmary at the end of your shift.”
And before she can protest Julian stands up from the chair, winks at her then leaves the replimat altogether. Ezri watches him sauntering away, a smile tugging at her lips. Perhaps it’s time she accepts the help of her friends.
Ezri hesitantly rings the chime of O’Brien’s quarters, her heart pounding. She hasn’t been here since before her visit to New Sydney, when she was taking care of Chester while Miles was away. Her attempts to befriend the Chief’s cat seem now like a childish diversion, something only an Ezri who hadn’t seen her brother behind bars could afford to waste her time on. Yet she finds that she’s been missing Chester as well, and for a moment she’s caught in the image of trying to sneak him a few pets while O’Brien isn’t looking.
This time, the doors open to reveal Miles himself, and Ezri gulps, wanting to be anywhere but on the threshold of his home.
“Good evening,” Ezri tries, “Julian told me to meet here?”
“He said something of the like to me as well,” Miles replies, and almost rolls his eyes, “but I don’t think you’ll find him here tonight, Lieutenant.”
Miles calling her by rank that way still hurts, but by now Ezri has gotten faster at recovering. She can almost pretend she doesn’t care.
“Ah. He usually doesn’t play these kind of pranks on me. I guess I’ll have to pay more attention from now on.” Ezri pauses, unsure of what to do. She’d try to reach out again, but Miles’ tone doesn’t bode well despite all of Julian’s efforts. The silence only grows more awkward the more she hesitates.
She opens her mouth to bid good night to the Chief, but a small sound interrupts her, and she recognizes its source immediately: behind Miles’ feet a ball of white and grey fur is watching her.
“Chester.” The name is out of her mouth almost of its own volition.
The cat takes it as an invitation, because he ventures over the threshold towards her, and proceeds to rub his sides against her leg. Ezri thinks hazily that she’ll have to find the lint roller again to remove cat hair from her uniform.
Chester meows pitifully at her lack of reaction and Ezri can’t help but smile at him. “I have no treats for you this time, sorry.”
“He likes you,” Miles says, sounding like it’s a revelation for him.
“I’m not sure if he likes me or the fact that I usually bribe him with something tasty,” Ezri says with a shrug, but then crouches down to pet Chester. His fur is soft as usual as he nuzzles the palm her hand, purring, and for a moment she is both Ezri and Jadzia, marveling that such a curious creature could evolve on Earth of all planets in the galaxy.
Miles crouches down in front of her before speaking. “Chester was Bilby’s cat, you know.”
Ezri stares at him, holding her breath. She had guessed as much, but never asked the Chief for more information.
“Chester was the only company he had.” Miles sighs. “I brought him here and took care of him to honor Bilby’s memory. Bilby had become a friend, but I had to lie to him and in the end I couldn’t save him. I thought that the least I could do was keeping his cat, and find his wife.”
Ezri remains silent; there’s nothing she can say to that. No wonder the Chief had not spoken to her for so long.
“I don’t think I can ever forgive your brother for what he did,” Miles continues, watching as Chester brushes against her left leg again. “But Julian was right. I have been — taking it out on you, and that isn’t right.” A pause. “I didn’t want to admit it.”
Ezri takes a long breath before replying. “If there was anything I could to change to what happened I would. I’m very sorry about everything.”
“I know you are.”
Chester is now in between them, his tail swishing lazily like he’s expecting to see what will happen. Miles reaches out to him with a hand, and Chester goes back to him, letting himself being petted some more.
“I was wondering, would you be willing to do more cat sitting while I’m on duty on the Defiant?” Miles isn’t looking at her, but she can see that he’s almost smiling.
Ezri’s eyes sting, and she doesn’t mind. “I would like that very much.”