Codes: Sisko/Bashir
Series: DS9
Rating: PG-13
Email: silver@intrinsic.8k.com

Summary: Captain Sisko is injured in a Jem'Hadar attack and Bashir reacts badly upon finding out.

Disclaimer: Paramount owns everything but my story - they're greedy! ^_^

~*~*~*~

"Defiant to Deep Space Nine!"  Worf's resonating baritone echoed over the comm. link, sounding a little less calm than usual.

"Go ahead, Worf," Kira urged.

"We have a number of officers wounded over here.  Alert Doctor Bashir to prepare the Infirmary to receive the injured and account for our casualties.  And Major--."

"What?  What is it?"  Kira stiffened at her post, fearing what Worf would say next.

"Captain Sisko is among the wounded."

It took a moment for Kira to gather her thoughts, well aware of the dismayed officers in her presence all around Ops.  She had to remain in control and hope that the Emissary's good luck continued to hold out.

"What happened?"

"A small Jem'Hadar fleet ambushed us outside of Cardassian space.  We destroyed three ships before a photon torpedo breached the outer hull and a brigade of Jem'Hadar warriors compromised the bridge."  Worf growled bitterly on the other end.  "Captain Sisko fought well - like a true Klingon."

"Major, Bashir says that they're ready to begin transporting the wounded over," Dax announced from Kira's right shoulder.

"Good."  She gave a curt nod for O'Brien to begin retrieving the survivors while the Defiant lingered in space, too badly mangled for the docking clamps to get a hold of.  "Worf, I want a full report once the Defiant is capable of docking.  O'Brien is sending a team out now to assist you.  Kira out."

~*~*~*~

The Infirmary soon filled with disorderly chaos; patients wandered in and out and the nurses had their hands full with operation after operation.

Doctor Bashir handled the critically injured patients first, redirecting them to either surgery or sending them off after a quick patch-up job.

"Doctor!"

Bashir turned around, medical tricorder in hand, to see two ensigns lifting Captain Sisko onto a diagnostics bed.  The captain looked like death had already claimed him.  His warm brown skin was covered in a thick sheet of black soot and red blood; cuts and bruises rained over his arms, neck and even his face.  Sisko looked awful.

Bashir moved past the ensign who had summoned him and ran his tricorder over Sisko.  His face remained impartial and serious, all except for the sudden tears that welled up in his eyes.

"Captain. . ."

"Most of the wounds look superficial," the ensign said, scratching at her own gashed arm that itched despite the pain.

"Ensign, have a medic look at that arm."  Bashir quickly moved over Sisko, examining him to determine whether the ensign's words were true.  He could barely keep his mind focused on the results, too distracted with Sisko's blood that discolored the torn material of his uniform.  "Cuts, abrasions. . . dislocated shoulder. . . cracked ribs. . ."

"But not beyond repair?"  Sisko joked.

"Captain!"  Bashir backed off, staring down at his commanding officer as if he'd seen a ghost.

Sisko gazed up at the young doctor, struggling to push himself up on the bed but not doing so well.

"Sir, please try to lie still."  Bashir pressed Sisko back down, firmly, unzipping the older man's gray vest with trembling fingers to shred off the red turtleneck shirt beneath.

"Julian," Sisko coughed, moving his hand away from where it had been clutching at a jagged knife, imbedded in his thigh.

"Oh Captain.  Why didn't you mention this earlier?"  Bashir reached for the handle of the blade, not trusting one of his colleagues to help him.  When it came to the captain, Bashir would not rely on anyone other than himself to ensure the older man's safety.  He - and he alone - would hold the responsibility of guarding Sisko's life.

"You looked kind of. . . busy."  Sisko grit his teeth when Bashir grabbed the knife, amused with his subordinate's loyal behavior, even if it was costing him more discomfort than was necessary.

The knife had sunk deeply into Sisko's thigh; nearly reaching the back of his leg, and so Bashir had a tough time attempting to remove it.  He wanted to be as gentle and considerate as possible.  He also underestimated how rigidly the blade had been jammed into Sisko's thigh bone.

"Ahh. . . Julian!"  Sisko covered Bashir's hands with his own, glaring at the distraught doctor.  "Just pull the damn thing out!"

"But, sir. . ."

"DO IT!"

Together, Bashir and Sisko managed to dislodge the blade, pulling the knife out, dripping with blood.  Bashir tried to yank his hands away afterwards but Sisko held on tightly, his dark eyes burning right through Bashir's big hazel ones.

"You're doing just fine, Julian.  I'm no different than any of your other patients."  Sisko paused through a coughing fit before speaking again, noting that Bashir's face had grown much paler - a sickly shade of gray.  "There are others. . . that need your skills. . . seal up my wounds and get back to work."

Bashir straightened up, blinking a few stray tears away but making no attempt to withdraw his hands from Sisko's comforting ones.

"I'll be right here."  Sisko knew what Bashir was afraid of and sympathized with his chief medical officer.  He felt as equally attached to Bashir as the young doctor did to him.

"I'm going to need to sedate you."

"That's okay."

The noise from agonized officers being carried into the Infirmary were drowned out by Sisko's long inhalation of breath as he searched Bashir's eyes for any comprehension.  He sought it and found it, along with the hot tears that splashed onto his bloodied knuckles.

Sisko released Bashir's hands and smiled, drawing the younger man down by his elbow to softly caress away the tears.

"Don't worry, Julian.  I trust you and I'm very proud of you."

"T--thank you… Captain…"  Bashir closed his eyes tightly, reopening them with a look of determination.  He pressed the hypospray to Sisko's neck and watched the man fall into a deep sleep.

Then, Bashir sprang into action.  "Nurse!  Prepare Surgery Room Two for a pulmonary operation.  Captain Sisko has extensive damage to . . ."  He faltered, his voice catching on more tears.  "He's dying," he said in a very small voice, oblivious to the nurse that shoved past him to monitor Sisko's life signs.

"Doctor," another nurse called out.  "We're ready to take Captain Sisko into surgery."

"Okay then, let's do it!"

Sisko was transported directly into the surgery room to avoid any further strain on his punctured artery and bleeding heart.  Bashir hadn't been willing to believe that Sisko was dying until that strained gesture Sisko made to fill his lungs with air.  For whatever reason, Sisko hadn't wanted him to know until after - but after what?

And that look--

Bashir could not remember a time when anyone had looked at him with such undisguised love.  And the way that Sisko had touched him, it sent excited shivers up his arms and legs just thinking about it.

But Captain Sisko was going to die.

"Doctor, there are bone fragments protruding from his heart and left lung," the nurse said, waking Bashir from a state of autopilot.

Bashir realized that he'd been clutching Sisko's limp hand while pinpointing the bone fragments; he hurriedly let it go.

"We aren't going to let him die!"

One of the other nurses flinched at his tone but silently agreed with him.  None of them wanted to see any harm befall their commanding officer, and certainly not death.

Bashir cleared his thoughts and poured all of his concentration into the task of making Sisko whole again.

~*~*~*~

Many hours later, Bashir slumped against the floor of the recovery room, exhausted from a lengthy operation that hadn't been devoid of complications.  He rested his head against a corner of the bed that Sisko rested on and waited - anxiously.

His patience and prayers were soon answered.

"Julian?"

Bashir jumped at the roughened voice, hurrying to offer Sisko a glass of water.

"Captain.  How are you feeling?"

"Like everything is back where it's supposed to be.  And how are you?"

"Me?  That doesn't matter, sir.  What's important is that you're alive."  Bashir practically beamed with joy, his relief outshining the tired circles underneath his eyes.

Sisko accepted the glass of water, slowly sitting up to drink eagerly from it.

"I never doubted you, Julian."

"Then why did you pretend that you weren't seriously injured?  Why did you risk your safety like that?"  Bashir's face crumpled again with anguish.

"Why weren't you more thorough with your scan?"  Sisko cut Bashir off as the younger man became apologetic and even more upset.  "My point is that you were afraid of me dying just as much as I was.  You didn't want to see the truth and I didn't want to tell you.  I honestly didn't think that there was anything you could do."

"How can you have such faith in my abilities when you'd already decided that I wouldn't be able to save you?"

"Julian," Sisko sighed, reaching out to grasp Bashir's thin wrist, pulling him closer.  "I thought that I was going to die and I accepted it.  I didn't want to waste time with useless scans or by letting you sedate me."

"I don't understand."

"When we were traveling back to the station, when the only person at my side was that young ensign, all I could think about was you.  The only thing I wanted to do was see you one last time. . . before I died."

"Me?"  Bashir fidgeted, glancing at the dark hand that gripped his golden wrist.  "Why me?"

"Sometimes, I question your naivety, Doctor.  I could ask you why you were in tears when I was brought in but the answer would be quite obvious; don't you agree?"

Sisko leaned back and muttered something about awkward moments, placing his glass down to grab Bashir's arm with both hands, holding him in place.

"I didn't want you to go in the first place," Bashir confessed.  "I had a bad feeling about that supply depot and Kira's suspicions weren't exactly subtle either.  Why did you have to accompany Worf on that mission?  Why didn't you allow me to come along?  You didn't even have an experienced medic on board!"

"I went with Worf because he is under my command; I'm responsible for his safety.  I also suspected that our mission would not be so straightforward, which is why I insisted on taking charge and fitting the Defiant with only security personnel.  All of them were trained in extensive combat maneuvers should we encounter any danger, which we did."

"That is _exactly_ why you should have taken me along."

Sisko's features hardened and his grip on Bashir's arm intensified.  "That is exactly why I ordered you to stay behind. You're a doctor, an expert at healing the sick and wounded.  You are _not_ a born fighter and wouldn't have been able to hold your own once we were boarded.  I couldn't live with the possibility of endangering your life.  I would _not_ risk any harm coming to you."

Seeing Sisko so inflamed over protecting him caused Bashir to blush and uncomfortably look away.

"But look at how easily you were hurt," Bashir said quietly.

"Easily?"  Sisko laughed heartily, unable to stop until his sides hurt fiercely.  "Julian, your concern is flattering but I'm not so easy to break.  Do you know how many Jem'Hadar soldiers it took to inflict those wounds and finally bring me down?"

Intrigued with Sisko's nonchalant attitude over the entire incident, Bashir was curious to find out how many warriors it had taken to incapacitate his captain - his hero.

"No.  How many, sir?"

"Five.  I can't brag to the extent that Worf is probably doing, singing over his victories, but I managed to beat four Jem'Hadars before the fifth let me have it.  It's good to know that my strength and will to live hasn't faded over the years."

"It never will."

"Julian, you need to stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Putting me on a pedestal.  I'm only a man - a man that is not as infallible or as indestructible as he would like to believe."

"You aren't just any man.  You're my captain."

"Julian, would you grant your 'captain' a special request?"  Sisko moved over on the bed, patting down the empty space.  "Please let me hold you."

Bashir's eyes lit up and he obliged Sisko by climbing onto the bed rather clumsily, knocking into the older man by accident.

"Sorry!  I'm really nervous," he blurted out, trying to avoid putting any weight on Sisko's chest.

"And you think that I'm not?"  Again, Sisko laughed, wrapping both arms around Bashir to hug him tightly.  "You did a good job, you know that?  I only feel a little sore but everything seems to be working again."

"Thank you."

"How long did it take?"  Sisko mumbled into Bashir's hair, impressed that the young doctor could work so hard sweating over his patients and yet still smell so good.

"What?"

"My operation."

Convinced that Sisko would not break, Bashir snuggled against him, resting his head underneath Sisko's chin.  He shut his eyes and basked in the warmth of the arms around him, holding him tight.  "Five hours and forty-six minutes."

"Doctor Bashir- my beautiful, diligent doctor," Sisko chuckled, kissing the young man's cheek.  "What did I do to deserve you?"

Now that they were so close and undeniably intimate with one another, Bashir felt that he could speak freely.  "You've been very kind and generous with me, Benjamin.  If it hadn't been for you, nobody would have shown me the tolerance and guidance that I needed to mature into who I've become.  I admire and respect you. . . and feel extremely attracted to you."

"Hmm, really?"  Sisko appreciated Bashir's bluntness although he realized that not facing the young doctor probably made it easier on him.  "And why is that?"

Bashir's cheeks flushed a dusky rose color as he mulled over the question.  "Uh. . . I really can't say."

"That's alright."

"Besides, I think that the fact that you're. . . um. . . the aggressor tends to leave all the explaining to you."

"I don't mind."  Sisko stroked Bashir's hair and smiled wistfully.  "We'll work on your conversational skills later," he placed a finger to Bashir's lips when the young doctor tried to reply, "the ones that don't get you into trouble."

They sat there for a few more minutes before Bashir began to doze off, lulled into a peaceful state by listening to Sisko's beating heart.

"If I had died. . ."

"Benjamin, please, I don't want to talk about it," Bashir murmured.

"I was only going to say that I wouldn't have been satisfied with just looking at you and holding your hand."  Sisko messed up Bashir's thick, brown hair and hauled him back up to make eye contact.  "Before you go to sleep, I have one request for you, Doctor."

Bashir grinned, chewing a bit at his lower lip as Sisko lowered him onto his back to lie halfway on top of him.  "Uh. . . what would that be?"

"I've always wondered if you were as skilled at kissing as you are at doctoring."  His eyes shimmered with delight when Bashir squirmed beneath him.  "If you aren't going to tell me, I'll have to find out for myself."

Sisko gazed down at Bashir, surprising the doctor with his fully recovered strength by keeping the young man pinned down.

Lowering his eyelashes as Sisko leaned in towards him, Bashir held his breath and readied himself for the kiss that he had been looking forward to for so long.

It didn't start off as Bashir would have expected; Sisko had most likely given up on waiting and his brush with death had left him very impatient.  He crushed Bashir down into the flat, hard bed, covering the young doctor's mouth with a hot, probing kiss.  He gained access to Bashir's mouth and kissed him tenderly and soundly, enjoying the soft whimpers and moans that his exploration created.

"Julian," Sisko said quietly, allowing Bashir the chance to catch his breath.

"Yes?"  Bashir gasped.

"You'd better have some energy left because I haven't even begun to reward you for saving my life."

Sisko trapped Bashir on the bed and displayed just how strong he was by beginning a kiss that left the perfectly healthy doctor breathless and clinging to him for all he was worth.  As his subconscious mind decided that it liked how Bashir tasted, Sisko silently thanked the unfortunate turn of events that had given him something positive after all.

- The End -
 

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