Frontier Medicine by Sue Castle (12/94) Not rated; no infringement intended.

"Just a typical day on the frontier," Doctor Julian Bashir muttered wryly to himself, "Holding it all together with bandages and baling wire."

"What? Were you talking to me?" Kira Nerys' voice close to his left ear caused him to jump slightly, then wince.

"Just remarking on how I enjoy a challenge, Major!" he lied through his teeth, tossing her a glowing smile. She managed to hold her glare for another few seconds before turning back to her console with a chuckle.

"Right. Of course you were."

Behind her back, his smile slowly faded. It had been a hellish day, and now he was committed to who knew how many hours of listening to Vedeks and Healers pontificate about alternative healing methodologies and the concept of the pagh. He sighed, careful not to let the Bajoran officer hear. Normally he would have been excited at the prospect of learning new medical techniques, soaking up information like a thirsty sponge. At the moment, however, he felt more like a well used sponge, with no room for anything but a long rest on the shelf.

Secure in the knowledge that Kira had the runabout well under control, he closed his eyes for a catnap. As if she would ever need him for any sort of technical assistance -- unless she'd been knocked unconscious and he was the only one left awake, he thought, grinning to himself. It felt good to smile. He hadn't done much of that in the last fifty two hours. He sighed again, even softer than before, and let his mind drift back through the last two days.

She wasn't Jadzia. She didn't have the experience of a three hundred year old Trill, or the unstudied elegance, or the warm wit. Or the spots. Julian really liked Jadzia's spots, and at one time had seriously desired to count every single one of them. Like reading Braille. But that time was past, probably, well, almost certainly. And after a three month dry spell caused by too much overtime at the infirmary and filled with many too many Cardassian epics, he finally had a date. She was Andorian, a beautiful merchant trader he had met at Quark's Place, and they were just beginning to enjoy her leave when it happened. Again.

"Sisko to Bashir!" Oh, no, not the Commander. That always meant big problems and short dates. Julian smiled a little sickly across the table and answered the page. Then wished he hadn't.

Plasma burns. Broken bones. Crushed limbs. Internal injuries. Cardassian equipment to treat Ekosian pirates with Federation techniques using Bajoran supplies. Sometimes even a multispecies specialist had to improvise. He had worked for ten hours straight, with breaks to update his records and gulp sweet hot tea, until the last of the survivors of the docking accidents were treated, sedated and resting as comfortably as possible.

He had tried to contact his erstwhile date, to explain, apologize, wheedle if necessary. She'd left the station. He'd figured she would.

Then Ensign Braige went into labor. Early. With triplets.

At least Betazoid physiology wasn't all that different from Human or Bajoran, so the equipment and the process wasn't all that unusual. But he'd had to admit (at least to himself) that eight hours of hearing a mother bonding telepathically as they went through the birthing process was enough to make a man swear off having children. And he really liked children.

Which, as it turned out, was a good thing. He'd spent the next hour sorting out and patching up two budding Klingon warriors, each determined that they were more honorable, not to mention much tougher, than the other. Thank the Deities Klingons, even young lads, had thick skin and thicker skulls.

At this point he had been on his feet over twenty hours, and it was beginning to show. The fifth, or perhaps twelfth, time he had tried to match up records and growled at the interface variations between the handheld tissue regenerator (standard Federation issue) and the infirmary archive computer (basically a Cardassian

O'Brien fusion) his Bajoran nurse had had quite enough. Taking his hand, she gently laid the regenerator on the counter, led him to the cot in the back of his office, left him there and closed the door. The whole maneuver took less than a minute and was completed in utter silence. Julian looked at the closed door with shock, then let loose a crack of laughter. He felt like a cranky toddler, put down for his nap.

Unfortunately, the nap didn't last very long.

Nobody knew where Morn came from. He didn't talk much, even when he'd accidentally gotten in the way of an incipient brawl at Quark's. The bottle of fine Saurian brandy had shattered thoroughly over the top of his head, and Julian had an interesting few hours trying to determine what constituted "normal" readings before Morn regained consciousness. The readouts were at least steady, so he stored them in the archive in order to study them when he'd had more than two hours sleep in the last forty. He sincerely hoped he'd be able to retrieve them again without massive aid from Chief O'Brien. Morn himself seemed much more concerned with the battered state of the three or four bristling hairs atop his nearly balding pate than the state of his skull. Moaning softly to himself, he wandered forlornly out of the infirmary. Bashir wondered momentarily where he spent his time when Quark's was closed. He didn't think he'd ever seen him anywhere else.

"Doctor?"

Garak's soft question brought him back from his musings. His Cardassian friend looked sartorially splendid as always, a walking advertisement for his tailoring business. Julian stared blankly at him for a long moment before he realized he'd been greeted. It had been a very long night.

Garak blinked, surprised at Julian's unresponsiveness. Taking in the doctor's exhausted expression and somewhat glazed eyes, he shook his head. Really, Doctor Bashir tried to do too much. He watched with some amusement as Julian's face creased into a smile.

"Garak! Were we going to have lunch today?"

"Well, yes, that had been the idea, I believe." The light finally dawns, he thought not unkindly, stifling a chuckle. "Unless, of course, some urgent medical emergency detains you. Again."

Julian peered around the infirmary, mentally listing tasks, completely missing Garak's slight sarcasm. As usual. Garak grinned. Julian looked askance at him, wondering what he'd missed in the conversation. Talking with Garak was often like trying to find one's way through a maze, and he wasn't up for it today.

As he opened his mouth to make his excuses, he saw a momentary flash of disappointment in the tailor's eyes, quickly masked.

"I'd love to-" he found himself saying, "-but don't be surprised if I fall asleep in my plate."

"I'll ensure you come to no harm, my dear doctor. Somehow, smothering in a serving of Gakh sounds positively revolting."

"Three more hours. You still with me, Bashir?"

Kira's voice jerked him from the near sleep dream state he'd been in, sending him bolt upright to stare at her, wide-eyed. She sighed and shook her head at him.

"No emergencies here, doctor. Just wanted to see if you were paying attention."

"To what?" he managed, still shaking fuzziness from his head.

"The music. Bajoran wind quintet. Derivative," she added sardonically, "but I like it."

Julian wisely refrained from replying, for once. Kira was in a snappy mood, apparently feeling a little anxious about seeing Vedek Bareil again. The latest Peldor festival had been ... a fascinating experience. He found himself looking at her lips, and blushed to his hairline. Deciding that discretion was the better part of valor (and unwilling to admit he was hiding) he closed his eyes and muttered, "It's very nice."

Kira snorted delicately in reply, but Julian was already dreaming again. She looked for a moment at the lines of fatigue in his young face, and then had to force herself to stop thinking about the uncomfortable events at the last festival. They had never talked about it, and she couldn't see them ever discussing it. Setting her teeth, she aimed the shuttlecraft toward Bajor and thought of Bareil.

Lunch had been pleasant, but far too short. Julian had relaxed under the unceasing flow of Garak's words, content for once to be the listener. When the hour was up, he found himself loathe to return to the infirmary. Garak had to get back to business, so he walked him down the Promenade toward his shop.

"It really is a lovely suit. Copper, but best really for someone with discriminating taste, not at all flashy-"

"I don't wear suits, Garak."

"-and it would be quite flattering, say for the next Peldor festi-"

"Garak!"

"-val or perhaps not. Surely you socialize sometime, Doctor. Wasn't there just an Andorian merchant in the last batch of traders heading toward the Gamma quad-"

A scream and the sound of rending metal interrupted the little tailor's words. Julian and Garak exchanged one quick, startled glance, then they both ran to the northeastern corridor of the central Promenade. A support beam had collapsed, pinning a shopkeeper and two of her customers under rubble. Bashir slapped his commbadge, ordered reinforcements, and went to work.

Five hours later he could have cried from a combination of frustration and relief. The shopkeeper, and elderly Bajoran woman, would eventually recover. Her two customers, a Vulcan male and a young Horta, were also doing well, once he was able to synthesize the correct compound to fill the Horta's wounds. Bashir had been challenged by the differing physiologies, but he was well able to handle them. Besides his extensive training, he had an innate ability to make leaps of medical logic that always turned out to be right, as well as the capability of doing several things simultaneously. He was well able, but not well equipped.

Once more, he had had to pull a medical miracle out of thin air, when it shouldn't have been necessary. If he'd had real equipment, instead of cobbled together pieces of Cardassian, Bajoran and Federation junk, there wouldn't have been nearly as much risk to the patients. If he had the strength, he should feel proud of himself for the incredible job he'd done. Instead, all he wanted to do was find a quiet corner and sleep for a day or two. Once, it felt like a hundred years ago, he'd told Kira that heroes were made on the frontier. He didn't feel heroic. Just fatigued. And in the middle of stemming the fourth arterial hemorrhage, two hours before, he'd have given all the glory he ever hoped to earn for a modern biobed and another pair of hands.

"Um, Doctor?"

What?? he mentally shouted. Julian turned to see Keiko O'Brien cuddling a forlorn looking Molly in her arms, and his impatience melted away. He'd forgotten that Miles' family was visiting this week. Poor Miles, having to deal with collapsing beams and balky replicators when he should be enjoying the company of his wife and daughter. He smiled gently at the pair, winking at Molly and causing her to duck her head with a shy grin.

"Hello, Mrs. O'Brien. And Molly -- looks like somebody isn't feeling very well." He leaned closer to Molly and gave her a comical grimace. The little girl giggled and burrowed into her mother's side, looking up at Julian from huge brown eyes.

"She has a fever, Doctor Bashir. It came on suddenly. I didn't want to take any chances." Keiko's concerned voice matched the worry on her face, and Julian efficiently led the pair over to an examining table.

Thirty minutes, one thorough exam, a hypospray and a lollipop later, a relieved mother and much happier daughter went in search of Daddy. Julian reviewed his options, realized he had slept four hours in two days, and tried for another nap. Unfortunately, while his body was more than willing, his mind was buzzing. Seeing young Molly O'Brien had reminded him of other children who still needed his help.

Nearly four hours later, he rolled his shoulders to loosen the tired muscles. He sighed with relief and closed the commlink to Bajor, glad that conversation was over. The head administrator of the Childrens' Homes program for the Provisional Government was not one of his favorite people, but they managed to work together. And he had her permission, as well as Commander Sisko's go-ahead, to make another supply stop at the orphanages in the sector surrounding the monastery he would be visiting the next morning.

Very few people knew about his little missions, just Sisko and various shopkeepers who donated clothing, toys and food or allowed him to purchase them at a substantial discount. Sisko called these missions mercy runs, the administrator called them humanitarian aid. He preferred not to put any labels on what he did. In his mind, he was just helping out, trying to make sure the Cardassian children left behind when the Empire pulled out would have the basic necessities. He couldn't imagine not doing it.

He usually was better prepared, however. In all the rush in the last few days he'd completely forgotten about the training session he'd been invited to attend by the Head of the teaching hospital and the Vedek Assembly. It was a good time for it -- Kai Winn saw a certain political advantage in strengthening the ties between Bajor and the Federation; at least that was her attitude this week. Julian had planned to use the opportunity to visit "his kids," using the runabout to transfer the supplies planetside.

Unfortunately, he'd been so busy he had also forgotten to arrange to pick up and pack the supplies. Glancing at his wall chrono, he saw that it was already early evening. Looked like it was going to be another long night. His friends sometimes teased him about his amorous activities, claiming he tired himself out chasing women (and catching them). He grinned to himself. If they only knew.

"Bashir to Dax." Julian certainly hoped she didn't have any plans. He needed her help.

"Dax here. What's up, Julian?" Her distracted reply wasn't encouraging.

"Um ... are you busy?"

"Not very, just ... preoccupied with a little something." The music and laughter in the background clued him in to where she was. He'd interrupted another Ferengi card game.

"I'm very sorry to intrude," he ignored her muffled laugh, "but I need some assistance with a project, and it's got to be done tonight. Would you meet me at the infirmary so I can explain?"

"All right." She sounded intrigued. "I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

"Thank you!" Of course this meant she'd find out about his little sideline, but it would be interesting to see her reaction. If he didn't sleep through it.

"Garak's got the clothing ready. You've paid for the toys. Benjamin coordinated gathering the foodstuffs -- how did he get Quark to cooperate? Scratch that. I don't think I want to know."

She looked at him warmly, impressed again at the depth to the young Human across from her. He had a great deal of potential, and she was happy he'd gotten over his infatuation with her so that they could become friends. Well, she thought she was glad he was over her. And she was glad they were friends. Pulling herself back to the conversation, she continued, "and you have the inoculations and medical supplies for their check-ups."

"It is the 'flu season, and many of the children have impaired immune systems."

Every once in a while Julian managed to really impress her, usually when he wasn't trying. She tilted her head to the side and raised one arched brow.

"Then why are we wasting time here? We have work to do!"

They had been up until the early hours of the morning, supervising and assisting the crewmen with loading the runabout. Now, four hours into a five hour run, he just wanted to sleep for a week. He hadn't been this tired since he was an intern, and he felt like he'd been running on full throttle for three years. On the wistful memory of a sparkling clean, fully functional, state of the art and well stocked infirmary on far off Earth, he drifted back to sleep.

Kira looked over at the lanky form of the doctor, curled compactly into the runabout seat, head gently bobbing in time with his breathing, making tiny muffled snores like a sleepy puppy. Sometimes he irritated her until she wanted to hit him with something, sometimes he amused her much more than she was willing to admit, at least to him. And sometimes, like after the conversation she'd had with Dax over breakfast at the replimat that morning, she was impressed with him and glad he was on the station. Of course, right about the time she was feeling in charity with him, he had to start talking and irritate her all over again, but at least he was asleep now. Smiling, she relaxed to the haunting sounds of the wind instruments and let her mind wander down to the planet, and a certain someone waiting there for her.

Julian awoke as they entered the atmosphere. Kira piloted the runabout to a smooth landing outside the main building of the teaching hospital, attached to the Central Western monastery. Looking all around himself at the landscape, in the process of being rebuilt after the Occupation, Julian concentrated on his agenda for the day.

The morning would be spent on an examination of the interaction between the spiritual center of the Bajora, the pagh, and the physical plane. Seminars would concentrate on physical manifestations of balance or imbalance of the pagh, and how healers took both spiritual and physical well-being into accounts when treating their patients.

In the afternoon, he would participate in roundtable discussions of similarities and differences between Bajoran and Federation techniques and methodologies, and he was looking forward to learning as much as he could. Then that evening, he and Major Kira would visit the two outlying orphanages. They'd spend time with the children, distribute their supplies, and he'd give them check-ups. Give them inoculations, patch up anything that needed to be patched.

He looked forward to introducing Kira to "his kids." He'd been shocked but delighted when she'd opened the conversation that morning by suggesting that she accompany him on the visits. He hadn't even known she knew about them, although the supplies would have certainly given her a hint. He undoubtedly had Jadzia to thank for the pleasure of Kira's company. He was also interested in Kira's reaction to the Cardassian children.

Stretching the kinks out of his back from the long ride, Julian drew in a deep lungful of crisp Bajoran air. He felt invigorated, all weariness dissipated in the face of another full day. As he joined Kira and the Healers on their way into the hospital, he reflected briefly on his circumstances. All things considered, there was no place, no place at all, that he would rather be than on the frontier.

the end