NEW: "Tincture of Madness" (1/6 DS9 Bashir)

[donna_gentry]

This is my first attempt to post one of my stories, so if there are
problems bear with me. I’ll start with part one, if it goes okay, I’ll
post the rest. If you wish to place this story anywhere else, please
let me know first, and include all disclaimers and my name.

Disclaimer: Anything familiar belongs to Paramount and is used without
permission. No copyright infringement is intended. I played with their
toys for a while, but I put them back just as I found them.

This story was written before the start of the new season. Therefore,
certain elements of the DS9 universe are not here--specifically,
Worf/Dax, Odo’s new-found humanity, and Kira’s pregnancy. I tried to
research the medical aspects, but I’m not a doctor, so be lenient with
me. Feedback is not only welcome, but begged for.

Tincture of Madness 1/6
by: Donna Gentry
ys...@mindspring.com

Lieutenant Commander Dax drummed her fingers noisily on the table top.
Normally a very patient person, her patience was beginning to wear
thin. Doctor Julian Bashir was to have met her here for supper
forty-five minutes earlier. She had decided twenty minutes ago that he
had either forgotten or been detained in the infirmary. Dax smiled to
herself. Bashir had not forgotten. Not only was his memory excellent,
but a dinner date with her was not something he would take lightly.
So, he must have been detained with a problem in the infirmary. But
what would take this long?
The Trill drummed her fingers five more minutes before deciding to
check it out. She walked the short distance across the Promenade to
the infirmary and entered, looking around for the doctor. At first
glance, the place appeared deserted, then she caught a flicker of
movement in the room beyond. Approaching the closed door, she saw
through the transparent panel what had detained Bashir. He, Nurse
Jabara, and a medical technician were up to their elbows, literally,
in surgery. Bashir had his hands buried deep in a patient's abdomen.
Dax backed up a step. She didn't want to distract him from
what he was doing, though, from where she stood, she could see the
deep lines of concentration in his face. He probably wouldn't have
noticed her if she had been standing right at his elbow.
She stood there for a long time, silently watching Bashir work. He
moved with the fluid, graceful movements that came from action without
conscious thought. Every few seconds, she saw his lips move and,
though she could hear nothing through the door, she could imagine his
softly accented voice issuing curt commands that were instantly
obeyed.
She felt, rather than heard, someone walk up behind her and turned to
see Captain Sisko peering over her shoulder at the scene in the
surgical theater.
"What happened?" he asked.
"I'm not sure. I can't see who it is. Did you need to see Julian?"
"Nothing important. Just a pulled muscle."
Dax smiled knowingly. "Let me guess. You and Jake had a late-night
ballgame."
Sisko rotated his shoulder with a wince. "I remember a time when I
could pitch nine full innings without so much as a twinge."
Dax politely turned back to watch Bashir without commenting. They
watched in silence as the doctor removed something long and red from
the patient and dropped it into a nearby bowl. Jabara handed him
something that looked just like it and Bashir's hands disappeared
again into the open abdomen of the patient.
"You know," Sisko said softly, "sometimes I forget just what a skilled
physician that young man is."
"I know what you mean. Sometimes, when I'm talking to him, he seems so
young and naive, so eager and enthusiastic. Then, I see him like this.
Look at him." She watched as he expertly manipulated the object into
the position he wanted and turned to issue orders to Jabara. "He's
like a different person in there. He's in the world he knows best.
There, he's confident, in charge, completely at ease. Not at all the
awkward young man that sometimes doesn't know what to say or do in our
world."
Sisko studied the doctor for a long moment. "I guess we would be as
awkward in his world as he sometimes is in ours."
For twenty minutes more the two watched the action in the room,
neither in any hurry to leave. Finally, Bashir pulled his bloody hands
from the cavity and turned to a nearby monitor, studying it for a few
seconds. A tired smile told them he was pleased with the results. He
nodded at Jabara and spoke a short command. She began closing
procedures under his supervision. As she finished and set the
instruments aside, Bashir removed his blood-soaked gloves and gown.
Tossing them aside, he disappeared through a door in the back,
returning a few seconds later, drying his hands on a towel. A quick
glance at the monitors, and he turned toward the door. It slid open at
his approach and he glimpsed the two observers beyond.
Embarrassment replaced the weariness clouding his features. "Dax," he
said tiredly, "I'm sorry. I forgot to let you know I wouldn't be able
to make dinner."
She smiled reassuringly at him. "It's okay, Julian. I can see you had
your hands full."
"What happened?" Sisko asked.
"A Thesian navigator. She came in on that freighter this morning. A
couple of hours ago, she came in here complaining with abdominal
pains." He stopped suddenly, realizing that they didn't want a
play-by-play. "Turns out she needed a liver replacement."
"How is she?" Dax asked with a glance toward the woman in question.
"She'll be fine in a few days." He glanced toward Sisko. "Did you need
something, Captain?"
"Pulled muscle," he admitted with an embarrassed gesture at his
shoulder.
"Have a seat. I'll check it out." Bashir reached for a scanner as
Sisko climbed up to sit on a nearby bio-bed. He aimed the instrument
at the captain's shoulder and studied the readings briefly. "Good
diagnosis. You want my job?"
Sisko chuckled softly. "Not for all the latinum in the galaxy."
Bashir reached for a hypospray and loaded it with a muscle relaxer.
"Don't be so quick to turn down instant wealth. With the proper
training, anyone could be a healer." He administered the medicine
directly into the sore shoulder and quickly ran the scanner over the
area again.
"I hope you don't think we're buying that, Julian," Dax admonished.
"In Earth's mid-nineteenth century Henre Frederic Amiel said, 'Doing
easily what others find difficult is talent; doing what is impossible
for talent is genius'."
Bashir's eyes twinkled as he answered. "And it was Aristotle that
said, 'Nullam magnum ingenium sine mixtura dementiae fuit'. Which
means, 'There was never a great genius without a tincture of
madness'." He set the scanner down and turned to Sisko. "Move it a
little, Captain, and see how it feels."
Sisko did as he was directed and grinned in relief when the joint
didn't complain. "That's great. Thanks."
Bashir walked over to a nearby monitor and flicked it on, then turned
back to his commanding officer. "I don't think it will give you
anymore trouble, but if it does, just come by and I'll take care of
it."
He turned back to the monitor and studied the readings. Dax correctly
guessed he was checking on his surgical patient. "Is she stable enough
for you to grab something to eat?"
"Probably, but I would prefer to keep an eye on her for a little
longer anyhow." He turned back to face her with another embarrassed
smile. "I'm sorry. I hope I didn't completely ruin your evening."
Dax walked over and placed her hand reassuringly on his arm. "Not at
all, Julian. I admire your dedication. Just promise me you'll get
something to eat before you turn in."
"Yes, Mother," Bashir teased.
The door to surgery opened then and Jabara and the technician brought
the patient in. Bashir busied himself settling the woman on a bio-bed.
"I guess we should get out of their way," Sisko suggested.
Dax followed him from the infirmary with a concerned glance over her
shoulder at Bashir. If she knew him at all, and she liked to think she
did, he would spend the rest of the night staring at that monitor,
afraid to leave the woman's side for fear of a change. Dedication?
Duty? Pig-headedness? What was it that made him sacrifice his own
health for that of his patient?
She sighed softly and turned away. That's what made him unique and if
he didn't do these things, he wouldn't be Julian Bashir.

* * * * *

Chief Miles O'Brien straightened away from the wall at the sound of
footsteps behind him. Turning, he saw the chief of security
approaching.
"Hello, Chief," Odo said. "Meeting someone?"
O'Brien smiled a greeting. "Yeah, a Besimi engineer." He glanced down
at the data padd in his hand. "Maybe you can help me with her name.
I'm having a hell of a time trying to pronounce it."
The shapeshifter took the padd and read over the name, then, read it
again. It was a totally unpronounceable combination of letters and
symbols.
O'Brien chuckled at the confused look in Odo's eyes and took the padd
back. "That's what I thought. I've had the computer pronounce it two
dozen times already and I still can't even come close." He sighed with
exaggerated frustration. "I hope she's the understanding type."
"Just explain the problem to her and I'm sure she'll be glad to help
you out."
"I'm sure you're right, constable." He looked down at the padd again.
"You would think with three names at least one would be
pronounceable." He switched off the padd and looked back up at Odo.
"You here to meet someone?"
Odo snorted. "This is strictly business, I assure you. I make a point
of meeting every major transport that arrives on the station. In my
line of work, it pays to know who is coming and going."
"I see your point."
At that instant, the computer announced a successful docking and the
outer airlock door rolled open. After a few minutes, the inner door
clicked loudly and rolled away. The passengers stepped out and began
making their way down the corridor.
Odo searched the faces as they passed, making mental notes of each.
Most were Bajoran, stopping over on the station before transferring to
a ship that would take them to their home planet. The remaining few
appeared Human, with the notable exception of two Ferengi. Odo frowned
at their backs as they moved away, then, nodding farewell to O'Brien,
he turned to follow.
O'Brien stared at the empty airlock. Had he made a mistake? A quick
glance at the data padd reassured him. No, the Besimi was scheduled to
arrive on this transport and no one had notified him otherwise.
A flicker of movement caught his eye. He looked up to see a
dark-haired woman approach the airlock. She hitched her two cases a
little higher as she stepped over the rim of the airlock. Stopping in
front of O'Brien, she set the cases down and brushed her hair from her
face with an impatient flip the hand. She was an attractive enough
woman, but with a hard set to her face that made her appear
unapproachable. Her tunic was a dull blue, of a simple, though
unflattering, cut.
O'Brien took a deep breath and made a miserable attempt to pronounce
her name. He suppressed a sigh at the flicker of irritation in her
eyes, but forced himself to continue. "I'm Miles O'Brien, Chief of
Operations for *Deep Space Nine*."
She shook the proffered hand with a firmness that surprised him.
"Chief O'Brien," she enunciated precisely.
He winced at the admonition in her voice. "I apologize for massacring
your name. I just can't seem to wrap my thick tongue around it."
She nodded curtly. "Most Humans have that problem. I wasn't really
expecting anyone to meet me. I know that it is very late by station
time."
"It's not that late. Besides, it's quite an honor to have such a
distinguished engineer with us. I've followed your work on the Ferdins
Project. It's most impressive."
The woman accepted the praise without acknowledging it. "It was a long
trip, Chief O'Brien."
"Of course. I've made arrangements for quarters." He bent to take her
cases, not noticing the small smile that played on her lips as she
watched him struggle to lift them. After a minute, he gave up and let
them drop back to the floor.
She reached over and easily lifted the heavy equipment. "If you'll
just lead the way..."
O'Brien gazed at her in barely concealed astonishment for the briefest
of seconds, then turned to guide the way toward the habitat ring.

* * * * *

O'Brien left the Besimi at her quarters and made his way to the
Promenade deck. What he needed right now was a stiff drink. He passed
the infirmary, headed for Quark's. He stopped, backed up and took
another look through the open door. Shaking his head, he stepped
inside.
Though the lights were subdued, he could see Julian Bashir sitting at
his console, head resting on his folded arms. As O’Brien stepped
closer he heard a deep, rhythmic breathing that told him the doctor
was sleeping.
A quick glance around the darkened room showed that Bashir was alone
except for a patient sleeping on a nearby bio-bed. He looked back at
the doctor. Should he wake him? Bashir was evidently tired or he
wouldn't have fallen asleep in spite of the drained coffee mug beside
his head. But if he continued to sleep in that position, he would have
one hell of a crick in his neck when he awoke.
"Julian?"
The doctor jerked erect, instantly awake. "What is it? What's wrong?"
O'Brien chuckled as he pulled a chair close and sat. "Relax,
everything's fine. I just figured you'd thank me later for saving you
from a stiff neck. Problem patient?"
Bashir glanced at the chronometer. 0013. "Just one that I want to keep
an eye on, that's all. Do you have a problem?"
O'Brien snorted. "Not unless you count hard-nosed genius types.
Present company excluded, of course."
Bashir threw him a look of mock hurt. "You think I'm hard-nosed?"
"Compared to what's-her-name, you're a down-right social butterfly."
"Ahh! I see you're on a first name basis with the lady."
"Don't even get me started on the woman's name!"
Bashir waited patiently, knowing that O'Brien would get to what was
bothering him soon enough. It was a short wait.
"I just met a Besimi engineer that would make a piranha look like a
guppy."
"I wouldn't think that would be much of a problem for you. Don't the
Irish have a reputation for charming the uncharmable?"
O'Brien shot him a look of mild irritation. "Ordinarily, I'm a very
charming man. Ask anyone. But this woman is a real genius in her
field. I've been looking forward to meeting her ever since I heard she
would be laying over here for a few days. I figured I would have a
chance to talk to her one-on-one, learn about the work she's going to
be doing on the *Camery*. But she's very not very friendly."
"It is late, Chief. Maybe she's just tired."
"I guess maybe. It's just that I got a feeling she was barely
tolerating me. I suppose it was my fault. I got off on the wrong foot
with her by badly mispronouncing her name. I think it offended her.
But it was unavoidable. Her name is completely unpronounceable. It
doesn't even have any vowels in it."
He handed Bashir the data padd with the name on it. The doctor read
the name and glanced up, wondering if O'Brien was finished. He wasn't.
"And strong! The woman could probably bench press me!"
Bashir laughed out loud at the image that sprang to mind. "Aren't you
familiar with Besimi?"
At the confused look on O'Brien's face, he continued. "Besimir is a
high gravity planet, almost twice that of Earth. I'm sure she could
bench press you, and probably me and Commander Worf at the same time.
I would advise you to step softly around her. She would make a
formidable enemy."
O'Brien finally smiled. "That's advice I can live with. I was on my
way to Quark's for a drink. Can you get away?"
"Sorry. I want to keep an eye on my patient. She's still critical."
O'Brien bid the doctor farewell and strode rapidly from the infirmary.
Bashir watched with regret as his friend disappeared into Quark's.
A quick glance at the patient's monitor assured him that she was
sleeping peacefully. He headed for the replicator. Synthale may be
what he wanted but coffee was what he needed.

* * * * *

Most of the senior staff were assembled in the wardroom, waiting the
arrival of Doctor Bashir. Small talk filled the room, stopping short
when the door slid open and the doctor entered. Dax smiled in
sympathy. He had obviously been in the infirmary all night. His eyes
were red with weariness, his uniform was slightly rumpled, and he had
not shaven.
Sisko looked at him in surprise, his eyebrows raised in question.
Bashir dropped tiredly into a chair before explaining. "Sorry I'm
late, sir. There were problems with the Thesian. For some reason that
I have yet to determine, her body rejected the replicated liver."
"What are you going to do?" Dax asked.
Bashir sighed deeply. That same question had been plaguing him most of
the night and he still had no acceptable answers. "I have her on
artificial filterization for now, but I can't keep her there
indefinitely. I'm working on an idea for a mechanical filter that may
replace her real liver."
Dax stared at him in surprise. "Is that possible?"
"If I can come up with a way to miniaturize the bio-filters and make
them compatible with Thesian biology. There has been some work on a
similar model tailored for a Bolian. The technology is similar enough
to maybe be of some help."
"How long do you have?" Sisko asked.
"Four, five days at the most. Thesian biology is very complicated."
"If there's anything any of us can do to help, just let us know,"
Sisko offered. He pulled his chair a little closer to the table,
signifying that the meeting had officially begun. "Let's get started
with the status reports. Major?"
Bashir leaned back and relaxed for the first time in hours. He rotated
his neck, trying to work out some of the kinks. Already his mind had
returned to the problem of manufacturing a workable bio-filter. He
tuned out the voice of first Kira, then Commander Worf as they gave
their reports. Fifteen minutes later, felling himself beginning to nod
off, Bashir forced himself to tune back in to the conversation at
hand. He was surprised to see that talk had turned to the visiting
Besimi engineer.
"I'm afraid that I offended her as well this morning," Sisko was
saying. "I don't think I was even close to the correct pronunciation."
"I'm sure your attempt was better than mine," Kira admitted. "I got
the feeling that she has very little tolerance for mistakes. I sure
wouldn't want to have to work with her."
"Nevertheless," Sisko said slowly, "I was thinking that maybe we can
make it up to her with a reception tonight. Not only will it give her
a chance to meet everyone, but if we've gotten off on the wrong foot
with her it will give us a chance to redeem ourselves."
Dax nodded agreement. "I think that's a very good idea, Benjamin."
O'Brien frowned.
"Do you see a problem with that, Chief?" Sisko had noticed his
expression.
The Irishman suppressed a sigh. "Frankly, sir, Ms...whatever, is not a
very friendly person. She's rather cold and distant."
"I got the same impression," Kira observed. "She may not be not be all
that receptive to a social gathering in her honorArticle Unavailable

[Macedon]

> Bashir's eyes twinkled as he answered. "And it was Aristotle that
>said, 'Nullam magnum ingenium sine mixtura dementiae fuit'. Which
>means, 'There was never a great genius without a tincture of
>madness'."

Allow the classicist to nitpick for just a second. :) Aristotle would
not have said "nullam magnum...." Aristotle wrote in Greek. You've
quoted from a Latin translation of Aristotle. If Bashir wants to show
off that he can do the original language, then it needs to *be* the
original language. :) (An easy way out of that one would simply be
to have him quote the Latin, then add "...Or rather [Cicero's] translation
of Aristotle was "nullam magnum...etc." (I'm not sure if this is a
Cicero translation or not; there were lots of Latin authors who quoted
Aristotle in Latin texts. ;>

It was just the "Aristotle said" paired with the Latin that gave me a
grin. :)

Macedon