Forwarded by the ASC-VSO 
Posted: Mon, 26 Jan 2004 21:25:53 GMT  
In: alt.startrek.creative 
From: Gabrielle Lawson inheildi@earthlink.net 
 

Title: Faith: Hope
Author: Gabrielle Lawson (inheildi@earthlink.net)
Series: DS9
Part: REP 7/18
Rating: [PG-13]
Codes:

      Captain Sisko sat in a chair just opposite Captain Picard.  It was a 
comfortable chair, but he didn't feel comfortable in it.  He was just 
reading over the charge on which Bashir was being held.  Somewhere in 
the back of his mind, ever since Bashir had warned him, Sisko had been 
expecting the gel to come back and haunt him.  He'd always thought he'd 
be prepared to take the consequences though.  He hadn't expected Bashir 
to have to pay for it.  He couldn't let Bashir take the blame, so he had 
to say something, but he had to be careful.  He shook his head and set 
the PADD back on Picard's desk.  "I ordered it," he stated, not letting 
his feelings show.  There was still a lot riding on what he said here.

      Picard stared at him silently for a moment.  "Why?" he asked finally. 
"Do you even know who it was given to?"

      "I had orders from Starfleet Command," Sisko told him, ignoring the 
second question.  "I showed the orders to Doctor Bashir and ordered that 
he carry them out."

      "Why would Starfleet Command issue the release of so much gel?" Picard 
asked.

      Sisko stood.  "Captain, I am sorry that I cannot answer all of your 
questions.  It was, and continues to be, a very delicate matter which 
could determine the outcome of this war.  I can tell you that Bashir 
released the gel only under orders.  I can tell you that he demanded to 
see the orders in writing and that he formally protested the orders 
before carrying them out at my insistence.  I cannot however, divulge 
the details of those orders.  His protest should be a matter of record."

      Picard's jaw stiffened, but he stood, too.  "There is no record of his 
protest.  He claims it was deleted.  Can you officially verify that the 
protest was recorded?"

      Deleted.  Perhaps Kira was right and it was Section 31.  "I read it 
myself and made sure it was filed.  He's being framed."

      Picard nodded his agreement.  "It would seem so.  According to 
Lieutenant Commander Martin, he's already been convicted in absentia for 
it.  I didn't recognize any of the names on the official record of the 
court martial, however.  I can't find a record of them with Starfleet 
Command."


      Just then the chime sounded.  Just the man we need to see, Picard 
thought.  "Come," he ordered.  The door opened to reveal Commander Riker 
and Martin.  "Any word from Data?" Picard asked Riker before getting 
down to business.

      "He's docking as we speak," Riker replied, letting the door shut behind 
him.

      Good.  Picard didn't like the implications to the big picture, but 
things were looking up for Bashir.  Martin took one look at Sisko and 
his face grew a degree or two more pale.  "Captain Sisko, I'd like you 
to meet Lieutenant Commander Martin," Picard said, making introductions, 
"Internal Affairs.  Captain Sisko of Deep Space Nine and the USS *Defiant*."

      "It's an honor to meet you, Captain," Martin offered his hand and 
smiled warmly.

      Picard leaned forward, bracing his arms against the desk.  "Commander, 
Captain Sisko has just confirmed the orders releasing the gel and Doctor 
Bashir's protest.  Our science team has already ruled out any other 
charges as well.  I'm going to release Bashir and recommend him for duty 
as soon as he is well.  Furthermore, I'm going to contact Admiral 
Necheyev and request that she investigate this trumped up court martial 
and those presiding.  Bashir's record will be cleared.  But I'm not so 
sure about yours."

      Riker, for his part, hid well his crestfallen expression, but Picard 
had known him long enough to pick up such subtleties.  Martin tried hard 
to look confused.  "I don't know what you mean, Captain?"

      The door chimed again.  Data.  "Come."

      Data had come straight from the shuttle apparently as there was mud on 
his trousers.  He had changed his shoes however, one would assume to 
spare the floors.  He raised his eyebrows in surprise at finding such an 
audience.  "Captain," he offered Sisko in greeting.  He turned next to 
Picard.  "I have found something interesting," he said.  "If I could 
please be indulged in a demonstration?"

      Picard nodded.  This could very well be interesting.

      "I would ask please," Data began, speaking to the group, "if everyone 
in this room would state his name and rank for the record.  Computer, 
begin recording."

      "Working," the computer intoned.

      Picard started, since it was his ship and he was the ranking officer. 
"Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Starship *Enterprise*."  He nodded to 
Riker.  It was his ship, too.

      "Commander William T. Riker, First Officer, USS *Enterprise*."

      Data would have been next, but he was running things, so he deferred to 
Sisko.

      "Captain Benjamin Sisko, USS *Defiant* and Starbase Deep Space Nine."

      Picard noticed that he was moving around the room as each person spoke, 
coming to Martin's side when it was his turn to speak..

      Martin watched Data carefully as he spoke.  "Lieutenant Commander Peter 
Martin, Starfleet Internal Affairs."

      Data nodded.  "Lieutenant Commander Data, Second Officer, USS 
*Enterprise*."  He did not, however, ask the computer to stop recording. 
  He was carrying a bag and he opened it now, drawing out a muddied 
PADD.  Martin's face paled as Data pressed one of the PADD's controls. 
A voice began to emanate from it.  The voice was familiar.

      "*Welcome to your new home*," the voice said.  "*I can't recommend the 
accommodations, but you betrayed us.  There's a replicator, if you can 
find it.  It will only produce one thing.  You'll just have to live with 
that.  I'm sure you can find water if you try hard.  You asked once, 
what would have happened if we didn't find you trustworthy.  I admit, 
this is more creative than we usually get, but you get the general idea. 
  You're an intelligent man, after all*."

      "Computer," Data ordered, "end recording."

      "Record complete."

      "Begin a comparative analysis of all voice patterns."

      "Working."

      All eyes were on Martin.  They didn't need the computer to tell them it 
was him.  Bashir had been framed.  Deleted records and sham courts 
martial didn't matter.  Not now.  He had some evidence on his side. 
Martin tried to move away, but Data blocked him.

      "I don't know what you are getting at," Martin held.

      "Analysis complete," the computer announced.

      Riker and Picard both looked at the screen where the data was 
projected.  But Sisko and Data both had their eyes locked onto Martin. 
Data was as serene and passionless as a Vulcan.  Sisko's jaws were 
clenched tight and his eyes burned like they were about to boil.

      "One match."  The data was unmistakable.   A perfect match.

      "You're Sloan?!" Sisko accused, barely controlling his fury. 
Apparently, he'd heard about Section 31, too.

      Martin--or Sloan--regained his color and his confidence.  "Sometimes," 
he replied with a hint of arrogance.

      "Commander Riker," Picard ordered, "will you please escort Mr. Sloan to 
the brig, and Doctor Bashir out of it."

      If Riker was angry at having chosen the wrong villain, he didn't show 
it.  "I'd be happy to, sir."  He took Sloan's arm.

      "I took the liberty of assigning two security officers outside the 
door," Data added.

      *Good thinking*, Picard thought.  They might be needed.  "Mr. Data," 
Picard said, nodding toward the PADD.  "Please put that in a secure 
location.  I don't want it to disappear as easily as Doctor Bashir's 
protest."

      Data nodded.  "Of course, sir."


      Bashir was still sitting on the floor of the cell just opposite Chief 
O'Brien when the doors opened.  He had relaxed somewhat in his friend's 
presence, though he still felt entirely too keyed up.  He should have 
been exhausted from lack of sleep.  And given the lack of entertainment 
in the brig, he should have been bored enough to sleep the night before. 
  But his mind had refused to quiet down.  There was so much to think 
about, so much to calculate, to try and anticipate, that he couldn't 
even manage to keep his eyes closed for more than a few seconds.  Sleep 
never came.

      Both he and the Chief stood up when the three men walked into the room. 
  Bashir didn't recognize one of them except to know who it wasn't.  He 
wasn't Dolson.  The other men were Commander Riker and Bashir's personal 
nemesis, Sloan.  Sloan held his head high and carried a defiant look in 
his eye--or at least Bashir imagined that defiance--as Riker led him 
into one of the cells to Bashir's right.  Data must have found the PADD.

      "Sorry about the light, Doctor," the third man called as he activated 
the forcefield.  Bashir squinted against the sudden brightness around 
Sloan's cell.

      "He can beam out of there, you know," Bashir warned them.

      Sloan glared at him, and Bashir didn't have to guess about that, lit as 
he was by the lights.  Sloan said nothing and probably would continue to 
say nothing.  It was almost anti-climactic.  Though Bashir knew better 
than to hope for climactic.  Life just didn't work that way.

      "He beamed in just last night," Bashir added, watching Sloan, not the 
man to whom he was speaking.

      "What's going on?" O'Brien whispered.

      "They've arrested Sloan," Bashir whispered back.  "He's the one who had 
me marooned."

      Riker was walking toward them now.  "Release the doctor," he ordered 
the other man.      Almost instantly the constant tingle that had reminded 
him of the forcefield's presence vanished.  Bashir felt the lack of it 
like a sudden gust of wind, like the door opening on his cell in Block 
11.  He reached one foot over the line to step down and suddenly felt 
dizzy.  He had to hold the wall to keep from falling over.  O'Brien saw 
that and caught him by the other arm.  "I could use that breakfast now," 
Julian teased, trying to dispel any undue concern.  However he managed 
it, he was across the line, full-body into freedom.  And back in the fire.

      "What you could use," O'Brien joined in with a grin, "is a haircut."

      "One of those, too."

      "Perhaps you should go to Sickbay, sir," the third man suggested.

      "I'll be fine," Bashir told him.  "Am I free to return to my quarters, 
or better yet to DS9?"

      "Quarters," Riker replied.  "DS9 is up to Counselor Troi and Doctor 
Crusher.  The lights will be dimmed in the corridors along your path. 
If you see light, you'll know you're going the wrong way."

      "Thank you," Bashir told him, not sensing now the deep-seated hostility 
the man had previously radiated.  He turned to leave with the Chief, 
thankful to find that the lighting in the corridor was actually darker 
than the room he was in.

      "And Doctor," Riker called before he made it through the door.  Bashir 
turned and waited.  Riker kept his back straight, his shoulders squared, 
and his hands behind his back.  When he did speak, it was slow and 
deliberate, as if the words were hard for him.  "I apologize for the 
cell.  I allowed myself to give in to assumptions, which is just what 
Mr. Sloan was counting on.  You were right about that.  I assumed you 
were guilty and expected you to have to prove otherwise.  I am sorry."

      Bashir wasn't sure if Riker now expected forgiveness or not.  He also 
wasn't sure if he was willing to grant forgiveness or not.  So he 
offered something more abstract.  "Apology accepted."


      O'Brien had thought Julian would be relieved to have been released, or 
happy, or something.  But he was no different.  Except that now he was 
hungry.  They had a large breakfast in Bashir's guest quarters.  It was 
large in that it had many different dishes.  For Julian, the portions 
were still small.  Still he seemed to be enjoying what he had. 
Scrambled eggs, bacon, scones.  While they ate, O'Brien told Julian 
about what had happened back in the Bajoran sector while he was gone. Or 
at least he told him the good things.  Ezri and Worf had returned 
unharmed for the most part.  Damar was leading a rebellion against the 
Dominion on Cardassia.  Julian told O'Brien about Sloan, and the Chief 
found himself with no appetite.  "How'd you get out?" he asked after 
Julian had come back around to the end of the story:  the cave.

      "I converted the replicator into a transmitter and transmitted a 
low-level pulse which Data would hear."

      He said it so easily that it almost sounded an easy thing to do.  But 
O'Brien was an engineer and he knew better.  It was just barely 
possible, but very difficult and it would render the replicator useless 
as a source of anything else.  Those must have been some extension 
courses.  And to do it in the dark, no less.  Still, that didn't explain 
everything.  "How did you know he'd be anywhere nearby to receive the 
signal?"

      Julian didn't even bother to look up from his plate.  "I didn't," he 
said, before taking another bite of his eggs.  "I just chanced it.  I 
would have died in the cave if I never tried it, or I would have died in 
the cave if I tried it to no avail.  The difference was only a matter of 
decades."

      "Sisko to O'Brien," O'Brien's comm badge chirped and Sisko's voice 
emanated from it.

      The chief tapped his badge to acknowledge the call.  "O'Brien here,
sir."

      "We just got orders, Chief," Sisko said.  "We're leaving.  Meet Dax and 
Counselor Troi in Transporter Room Three to prep the *Defiant*."

      "Julian's not coming with us?" O'Brien asked, looking across the table 
at his friend.  Julian had frozen as soon as the call came in.  He still 
held his fork halfway to the now empty plate before him.

      "Not just yet," Sisko replied.  "Sisko out."

      Bashir's fork dropped to the table.  "It's not a surprise, Miles.  I 
have to be checked out.  As you already mentioned, I relieved you of 
duty until you'd had time to adjust.  It's the same with me."

      "Wouldn't you adjust better back on DS9 with us?" O'Brien argued.

      "I think so," Julian admitted, "but it's not my decision to make."

      "Counselor Troi and Doctor Crusher," O'Brien conceded, remembering what 
Riker had said.  "Well, it could be worse.  The *Enterprise* has a great 
crew.  Try and enjoy yourself.  We'll see you again soon."

      "Of course," Bashir said, still not sounding either displeased or 
pleased at the prospects.

      "I guess Deanna's going to visit Worf while we prepare the ship," 
O'Brien surmised aloud.  "I'd like to see Data, myself.  You know, he 
introduced Keiko and me."

      Julian allowed a smile.  "He told me.  Perhaps he can visit while you 
prepare the ship, too."

      That wasn't a bad idea.  "I'll ask him."  The chief stood up to leave. 
  "I'll see ya, Julian.  Call me once in awhile."

      "Send my love to everyone," Bashir said.  He stood as well and came 
around the table.  He extended his hand and O'Brien shook it.

      "Oh hell," he said, pulling Bashir toward him for a hug.  "Don't ever 
do that to us again," he said.  When he let him go, O'Brien could see 
that he shocked the younger man quite thoroughly with his unaccustomed 
show of sincerity.  O'Brien grinned.  His friend was real and he was alive.

      "I'll try," was all Julian said, when he could finally speak.

      "See ya around, Julian."


      Bashir waited for him to leave and then cleared the table.  With that 
squared away, he laid himself down on the couch and tried to close his 
eyes.  Sisko was leaving.  There was no Troi.  She'd be on the 
*Defiant*.  No visitors--he hoped.  He could finally just let himself 
relax, even if it was only for an hour.  Maybe now he could sleep.

      The door chimed and Bashir kicked the arm of the couch with one foot at 
the intrusion during his short respite.  He sat up and took a deep 
breath to calm himself.  If it was the captain or Crusher, he'd still 
have to be on guard.  "Come in," he said finally, feeling the walls come 
up around him, protecting him, closing him in.

      The door opened and allowed light to spill in through the door.  It 
closed again and Bashir could see who had entered.  The walls tumbled away.


      Neither one said anything at first.  Sisko looked around him, waiting 
for his eyes to adjust.  After a few minutes, he could see Julian 
standing by the couch.  He wondered why he didn't say anything.  And he 
wondered about the lights.  "Mind if I turn up the lights?" Sisko 
finally asked.

      "No!" Bashir nearly shouted in panic.  Sisko felt he was getting a 
glimpse of why Troi wanted him to remain on the *Enterprise* for a time. 
  When he spoke again, he was decidedly calmer.  "It hurts my eyes," he 
explained.

      Just where had he been? Sisko wondered.  And he chided himself for not 
asking Captain Picard when he'd had the chance.  Either Sloan did 
something to his eyes, or he'd been in a very dark place these last six 
months.  Sisko just hoped he still knew the man.  He didn't want to find 
him broken or beyond redemption.  Still, he was alive, and that was 
something.  He could recover from this, whatever it was.  He couldn't 
recover from being dead.

      The silence was deafening, and having it there in the darkness only 
exacerbated the awkwardness between them. *A hello would be nice*, Sisko 
thought.  So he decided he should step forward and offer one.  "It's 
good to see you, Julian."

      "Is it?" the younger man asked.  His tone was plain and quiet, carrying 
no hint of what he meant by such a question.

      Sisko decided to take it literally until Bashir gave him any reason to 
do otherwise.  "Of course it is.  We thought you were dead.  We were all 
concerned, of course, happy but concerned, when we heard--"

      "Not all," Bashir said slowly, hitting the sharp 't' between the words 
particularly hard.      

       This time there was no mistaking the touch of venom in Bashir's 
quiet British accent.  Sisko didn't understand it, but continuing to 
take Bashir literally, he understood that it was directed at himself. 
"I *was* concerned," he held.

      "I never even crossed your mind."  That was harsh and deliberate. 
Something was building and Sisko was sure he wouldn't like it.

      He couldn't find any words.  What had drawn Bashir to that conclusion? 
  What had made him think that Sisko hated him?  He knew that there was 
a distance between them before he'd left, but they'd managed to bridge 
it once in awhile.  Things weren't like they were before the war, but 
there was a war, after all.  It got in the way of such things, but it 
never, ever made Sisko stop caring about his crew, and that included Bashir.

      "Julian," he tried, stepping forward.

      Bashir backed away, into the couch.  "Don't call me that," he ordered, 
stumbling around the furniture to keep the distance between himself and 
Sisko.

      This was not at all what Sisko had expected.  Forgetting diplomacy, or 
giving up on it, Sisko tried asking him outright, "What's wrong?"


      "You are!" Bashir accused.  "You're wrong."  The words tumbled out of 
his mouth before he could stop them.  Images and memories and feelings 
were all swirling around in his head in a dizzying manner.  Only Sisko 
was steady.  Sisko.  The reason for it all.

      Sisko stood still, only a meter from the door.  Bashir could see him so 
clearly.  He didn't understand.  He still didn't see what he had done. 
How could he?  He had to think first.  He had to think about one man 
when the whole war was distracting him.  He couldn't do that and so he 
couldn't understand.  Sisko's voice was a whisper when he spoke again. 
"What did he do to you?"

      "He who?"  Bashir knew who, but the blame was misplaced.  "*You* did 
this to me.  Sloan was only being who he is, doing what he does.  He 
could have killed me, but he didn't, so I guess you *could* say he was 
even being lenient.  But if it hadn't been for you, he wouldn't have 
done anything at all."

      Even as he said it, he never thought he'd stand up in defense of Sloan, 
but there it was.  Sloan had only behaved according to his nature.  It 
was Sisko who had changed his nature.  It was Sisko who had betrayed 
him, finally tearing down the pillars of everything he had believed in. 
  Because he had believed in Sisko.  "*You're* the reason this happened. 
*You!*" he accused, stepping forward and pointing his finger at his 
former commanding officer.  He could barely control his own body.  It 
was as if something inside him was propelling him forward.   "You 
ordered it."  His voice dropped back.  "You want to know what they did 
to me?  Clinically, it's called psychological torture.  I may have had 
worse, but it's still torture.  They played with my sense of reality, 
made me think that everyone was turning against me, made me question my 
own sanity and loyalty, all without sleep or food.  And you ordered me 
to go with them.  My torturers!  Even after the Romulan incident!"

      The anger had built up in him like a ball of fire in his chest.  He 
could feel it physically, burning into his ribs and lungs.

      They were face to face now.  "I thought--" Sisko stammered, stepping 
back and away from the doctor closing in on him.

      Bashir didn't give him time to finish. "You didn't think!" he screamed. 
  His arms pushed out with the words and Sisko went flying into the 
bulkhead a few feet behind him.  Having used up that burst of energy, he 
could no longer move.

      Sisko sat up, rubbing his head where he'd hit the wall, and Bashir just 
stood shaking.  His voice was softer, but no less calm.  "You certainly 
didn't think about me.  You wanted proof.  You wanted evidence. 
'Something tangible,' you said.  I didn't matter to you at all."  It was 
almost hard to breathe.  It was certainly hard to stand, but he couldn't 
move his legs.  "There were hundreds of them.  Did you think I could 
just undo them like that?  They've been doing this for two centuries or 
more.  Did you expect me to just waltz in and expose them and cause 
their downfall?"

      Sisko didn't answer.  He couldn't, not without saying that that was 
exactly what he thought, if he thought at all.  "They could have made me 
disappear before," Bashir continued.  "They certainly had the ability. 
They kidnapped me right off the station without so much as a trace.  But 
you thought I could bring them down single-handedly."

      "I had faith in you," Sisko tried to say, but it came out only just 
above a whisper.  Even in the dim light, his eyes showed fear.

      "And *what* do you think *that* is worth?" Bashir threw back in anger. 
  "Did you think they would just let me in?"

      Sisko's mouth was open, as if he would speak, but he said nothing.  He 
just stared in wonder and confusion back at Bashir, who continued to 
berate him.  For so many years, he had kept so much in.  He forgot to 
even worry about the Betazoid and what she would sense from him.  Sisko 
had to be made to listen.  "I had to prove myself to them, why I'd had 
such a change of heart.  I couldn't do what they wanted me to do.  I 
couldn't become one of them.  I couldn't be like them.  Like you.  I 
refused, worked against them.  For that they sent me away to that 
god-forsaken cave.  Six months I was alone, with not one single person 
to speak to.  The only animals were blind little fish in the stream I 
drank from.  And that's all your fault."




-- 
--Gabrielle
I'd much rather be writing!

http://www.stormpages.com/gabrielle/trek/    The Edge of the Frontier
http://www.stormpages.com/gabrielle/doyle/   This Side of the Nether
Blog: http://www.gabriellewrites.blogspot.com

--
Stephen Ratliff
ASC Stories Only Forwarding

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