Chapter Text
His eyes are wandering fleetingly across the overcrowded bar, avoiding hers. That’s fine. She chose Quark’s so there would be noise and lights and people, so they would be as far away from each other as possible, so that he would only guess her words and not hear them.
She’s not ashamed. She doesn’t feel guilty. And yet her heart aches to see Julian Bashir reduced to silence, twisting his napkin in his lap. He looks young, so incredibly young and vulnerable. She wonders what Jadzia would’ve done.
“Jadzia would’ve been better at this than me,” she smiles weakly, attempting a joke.
Julian looks up at her sharply, angrily, and she feels his gaze like a blow to the face. But the anger quickly fades away. It’s replaced by something else, something not quite as violent but twice as sad.
“This isn’t about Jadzia,” he breathes.
“No,” she shakes her head apologetically, “no it’s not.”
He licks his lips once. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. She can barely hear him. He says it again, “I’m so sorry, Ezri.”
“It’s not your fault,” she reaches out and covers his hand with hers, “it’s no one’s fault. I just – I have to leave.”
He nods slowly. She knows he understands.
It doesn’t make this any less painful.
~
Ezri shoulders her bag, steps onto the airlock platform and takes a deep breath.
“So this is it?” Kira looks up at her, long eyelashes fluttering frantically, pushing away tears.
Ezri nods, chewing on her lower lip. She’s waiting, still, for a reason to stay. It’s absurd. She has made her choice and she knows it’s the right one, but her mind is in turmoil; memories are whirling around in her head, pinning her feet to the ground. So she stands awkwardly at airlock three, watching Kira swallow back tears, and suddenly she feels the crushing weight of her decision. She knows the choice won’t only affect her, but her friends as well.
For a long time, she thought her presence on Deep Space Nine was perfectly dispensable for the station’s occupants. She was a poor replacement for Jadzia, a pale imitation of the Dax they used to love. Leaving, she thought, would only shake her tiny inner world.
She remembers Benjamin holding her hands to get her attention; he rarely ever held her that way. “What do you think old man? What do you want?” and he cast his piercing dark eyes on her, “that’s what matters.”
So yes, this is it. She’s leaving and she’s doing it for herself. For a moment, she thinks of the selfishness of her choice. If Julian’s thinly veiled sorrow wasn’t enough to wipe Ben’s words out of her mind, why should Kira’s fluttering eyelashes? It’s time to leave. Selfish or not, it is her decision. And she will be true to herself this time.
“This is it,” she tells Kira, and she starts to duck into the airlock when Jake Sisko appears at the end of the corridor.
Ezri’s resolve melts. She freezes and watches him as he walks towards her, his face a tight mask of weariness. She wishes she were more stable, she wishes her voice didn’t tremble when she speaks his name, once, slowly, “Jake.”
He’s close now. He’s standing beside Kira, looking utterly betrayed. “I just wish you’d told me before,” he says.
‘The boy is gone’, Jadzia once told Ben, ‘Jake is a man now’. And here, in front of airlock three, Ezri thinks he has never looked more grown-up. She wants to say she’s sorry, but deep down she’s not. She wants to avoid saying goodbye. She doesn’t want to remember him this way.
Her distress must show on her face, because Jake sighs, closes his eyes and pulls her into a light hug. His uncertainty hurts. His movements are slow, well-calculated; not at all Jake-like. For a moment his chest heaves against hers, but when he pulls back he is expressionless.
“Just come and visit from time to time, okay?” he says evenly, and she can tell he hasn’t forgiven her yet.
“I will,” she replies.
It’s a promise she knows she will keep.