"The Deadly"

Part I. Damson

Doctor Damson was lost in thought. "Alright," she said, staring at the floor. "Computer," she called. "Beach." Please specify planetside location, the computer responded.

"Damson," a warm, hefty hand fell lightly across her shoulder.

The Doctor looked straight ahead in annoyance. "Earth. Florida, Jacksonville Beach, Atlantic Boulevard, and late twentieth century. Remove all characters."

She closed her eyes as soon as the words left her mouth, waiting for the hand on her shoulder to disappear. When it did not, she reopened her eyes. Before her stretched a greying expanse of balmy water. The sun glinted across it seemingly directly to her cornea, and in the distance, she could easily make out the silhouette of some sort of sizeable water sailing vessel.

She looked to her shoulder. "Vincent," she said plainly, get your hand off of my arm.

Vincent was surprised, but removed his hand and stood to his full height.

The Doctor stood and turned to face Vincent as she removed her duty jacket, revealing the blue mock tee underneath. Slinging it over her shoulder with two fingers, she reached out and draped the other arms within the folds of Vincent’s tattered clothing. "It’s been good seeing you, Vincent," she said, pulling him into an embrace. "I love you," she told him.

He said nothing, merely breathing in the scent of her hair. "I--"

Abruptly, Damson stepped back, and held out her black and grey tunic to the man.

"Hold this," she told him. Vincent immediately reached out to take hold of the tunic.

"Stay right here," she patronised him authoritatively, pointing at the spot the man was standing in. As she turned and walked away across the sand, Vincent’s mouth opened and closed silently several times.

She had thought about turning to look back several times, but knew what was psychologically more sound for her to do and had continued forward for more than a mile, rummaging through her brain for connections, similarities, and science and medical solutions to the problem at --her -- hand.

"Last case I remember of a static warp bubble was one in which . . ." she racked her mind for the information. Continuing her stroll down the beach, she was so lost in thought that she nearly stepped off of the face of the world. Just before her, she saw . . . nothing. A sheer sheet of grey advanced upon her, and it was closing the gap between itself and her rapidly.

She turned and began to run back toward Vincent. "It closed in on him," she thought. "Took the shape of whatever he thought of, and --" Before her stood Vincent.

"Wait a minite," she realised, her head cocking sideways at Vincent. "She had to get back to where she had originally been and then get pulled out."

She smiled, pleased at herself for having pieced together the solution so rapidly.

"Rhee," she breathed. "Vincent," she called, holding out her arms. "Come here." She ran at the man, her arms outstretched, looking back only once to determine how far behind her the grey nothingness was. It was not behind her. It was upon her.

Part II: Rhee

Rhee swirled into existence in the transporter beam, and writhed in pain and agony. Damson was gone. Rhee reached out with his mind, stretching, using all of his gathered mentis and life to retain some semblance of order within his thoughts. He reached out for the bond, for the link, and found a tendril of it gathering at the edge of his consciousness. Stretching his thoughts beyond what he had thought possible, he created a bridge, and imagined Damson walking across it.

Part III: Reflection

"You’re a bit early," the man grinned, reaching out a hand to the Starfleet officer on the transporter pad in Ops. "And we sort of expected you to come by ship," she smiled.

"My," the woman on the transporter pad began, cutting off short and grabbing for her stomach.

The dark-hued man beside her smiled, and began putting his medical tricorder back into his holster, the probe in its slot first.

"He’s in there alright," the lightly olive coloured Doctor lilted. "The transporter beam said that he wasn’t . . . "

Actually, piped up a spunky young aide standing behind the first, "You weren’t there. Static warp bubble collapsed in on you in subspace so I pulled you back. I thought I lost you, but," she gestured at her addressee. "There you are." Ezri shrugged her shoulders in light-hearted consternation.

"I - uh," Damson Rhee looked around at the motley crew in slight confusion, unsure of where to begin. She decided not to speak, and instead lifted her left hand limp-wristed to the dark man beside her, who quickly grabbed it with one hand and ran an arm around the small of her back with the other. Damson held out her right hand to the dark human before her as the Doctor helped her down the few steps from the pad.

"Benny Sisko," the green and black clad man told her. "Welcome to my station," he told her with an air of brisk adventure.

"Freshly liberated," he said, raising his hands to indicate the surroundings behind him. "From the Cardassian Bajoran Alliance." He smiled deeply.

That was when the room canted to one side, Damson fell to the floor, forgotten, and the others rushed toward the black, backlit panels set around the room.