Title: Broken Mirror Author: Silver Rayne Email: silver@intrinsic.8k.com Pairing: Worf/Mirror Bashir Rating: R for violence, m/m sexual situations and NCS (non- consensual) Summary: Worf accidentally enters the Mirror Universe and runs into Julian Bashir. He takes out his unresolved tension towards Doctor Bashir on this other version. Disclaimer: Worf is owned by Mirror Worf and is the only character in Star Trek that has outlived his 7 season quota by jumping onto DS9. Because he is so popular I have decided not to charge him for being in my fanfic. I am not making any profit off of this unless you count the dishes that I've made Julian wash in exchange for the lack of details in the sex scene. ^_^ Copyright December 2001 -Silver Rayne * * * * * * * * * * * * * The endless rambling of Doctor Julian Bashir annoyed Worf immensely. He sat there on the biobed, glowering at the excited human. Julian was happy that Worf had returned safely and unharmed. They all were. But Worf had no use for their misguided concern. He wanted this examination to be over with so that he could leave. "Luckily there were enough chroniton particles left over for your return trip," Julian exclaimed. "Chief O'Brien said that if you had stayed there one more day." And so it went on. Worf glared at Julian as he bent over a console, examining the readouts. Still, the young man chattered away. Seeing the doctor again after so many days made Worf uncomfortable. If any of them - especially Julian - discovered what had happened. "Worf?" "I am fine, Doctor. Continue with your examination. The sooner I get this over with, the better." For you - he added silently. ** 10 days ago: Worf had been on a routine surveillance mission of the Gamma Quadrant, just outside of the wormhole, and was just finishing his report when the life support systems began to malfunction. He had piloted the runabout back into the wormhole, re-stabilizing the life support levels as he traveled at impulse speed. A flash of light was the only indication that he received of anything being wrong. When he exited the wormhole, he found that the station had been moved a considerable distance from its last known location. But before he could open a communications channel to Deep Space Nine, the runabout's navigational systems started to malfunction. The rest blurred by in a haze as Worf was forced to make an emergency landing on Bajor. He eased the runabout down with minimal damage, approving of his exceptional piloting skills. It was only after he'd set foot on the planet that he realized something was terribly wrong. That was when he came face to face with Julian Bashir. "Doctor," Worf exclaimed, hiding his shock behind years of harsh Klingon training. "What are you doing here?" "Doctor?" The young man repeated. "You must be mistaken. I'm a Terran. We aren't allowed to become doctors." He smiled warmly at Worf, approaching the vessel with mounting interest. "Are you a Cardassian?" Finally, the truth hit Worf. He was not in his own universe and this was not Doctor Bashir. This man had to be no older than eighteen - a mere child in Worf's eyes. The human was soft, ignorant, and far too beautiful to be of any use to anybody. This mirror Julian Bashir had long, auburn hair, silky curls bound at the nape of his neck to trail to his waist in one neat line. He wore a brightly patterned shirt, laced up at the top, and black britches with leather moccasins. His mannerisms were timid and delicate as was his sweetly accented voice and polite curiosity. At that moment, Worf knew right away that he despised this young man. Judging by Julian's age, the accidental trip to the mirror universe had also managed to take Worf back in time. The Captain Bashir that Sisko had described was nothing like this man. This was no cold, mean-hearted killer. Not yet anyway. "No. I am not a Cardassian." He turned away from the boy, running a tricorder over the runabout to ascertain the damage. "A Vulcan?" Julian peered up into Worf's face, clasping both hands respectively behind his back. "Can I be of assistance?" Worf growled. "I am a Klingon and you are in my way." "Oh, I'm sorry." Julian backed away, the pleasant smile never leaving his gentle face. "Would you like something to eat? My cabin is just over the hill." "No." "I've never seen a Klingon before." If this alternate universe Bashir continued to aggravate Worf, he might never see a Klingon again. And what did he care about it anyway? This was not his universe. Whatever he chose to do - or not to do - would most likely pollute the timeline but it had no direct threat to him. He couldn't care less about mirror universes or duplicate Bashirs. "Well now you have. Go back to wherever you came from." "You're not very friendly." Julian pouted, ducking his head in genuine disappointment. "I am glad that you see that." When the boy still refused to leave, Worf stalked over to him, casting a very large shadow over them both. "What is your name?" He had to at least make an effort at pretending that he knew less than he did. He would have to refrain from losing his temper until the runabout was fixed and maybe Julian could help him with that. Unless this Julian was even more hopeless than Doctor Bashir at repairing runabouts. "Julian Bashir." "Are you a servant boy?" He demanded to know. "No." Again, Julian smiled. "I live with a nice Bajoran woman who adopted me when the Terrans became enslaved on Terok Nor. She saved my life." He clasped his hands together, overcome by emotion. "She's more like a grandmother to me than a mother and she's taken care of me all these years. I really love her." Worf felt sickened by this proclamation. He wished that he had run into an entire fleet of Alliance warships instead of this cowardice boy. Upon first sight, Worf had supposed that Julian was some sort of prostitute - a well- kept one at that. But the boy was nothing more than a sheltered child that would never grow up. Even though Worf knew that something in Julian's life would change him for the worst, he still had trouble believing that this boy could survive anything that tragic. He loathed weak humans. "And where is she now?" "A few villages over, selling fruits and vegetables at marketplaces. We make a lot of money with our crops." Worf snarled angrily at having to listen to that awful singsong voice that Julian spoke with. He had the strongest urge to throttle the youth into a peaceful, bloodied state. Anything to shut him up. "And you just sit there looking pretty while that woman does all the work?" He shouted in disgust. Julian visibly jumped, shaken by Worf's viciousness. "I look after the crops and tend to the household," he said meekly. "It's the only way I can repay Grandma for her kindness. She insists on traveling alone because it isn't safe for a Terran to accompany her." After Worf had finished scanning the runabout, fully intent on ignoring Julian, the boy spoke again. "The sun will go down soon and it gets very cold after dark. Are you sure that you wouldn't like to accompany me for a hot bath and something to eat?" Why not? He couldn't accomplish anything in this bad lighting anyhow. "It looks like I have no choice." "Great! I just baked a fresh loaf of bread and there are plenty of roasted tea leaves to boil." Bread and tea? Clenching and unclenching both fists at his sides, Worf followed Julian over the hill and to his cabin. He was really starting to regret abandoning his emergency rations on board the runabout. Anything had to taste better than baked dough and watery bitterness. ** Supper tasted horrible. Worf hated bread and he liked tea even less. Those were the only two things that Julian had an abundance of, not counting the sweet jams and diced vegetables. This food was no warrior's meal! "Would you like some more biscuits, Mr. Worf?" To Worf, the biscuits were no different from the bread - plain and unappetizing. "No. thank you." Julian placed a few more twigs into the fireplace and sat beside Worf at the old wooden bench that served as a table. "Tell me about your planet." "I'd rather not." "I'll tell you something about me if you answer one question." Who cared about him? Worf had no desire to hear about how Julian had led a pampered life as Grandma's little jewel. He couldn't possibly stomach anymore of the boy's constant kindness or generous nature. "Oh all right!" He agreed, smiling with his fangs biting into his lower lip. This might be fun after all. "Tell me something about yourself and I' ll answer one question. But no more than one." Julian leaned closer to Worf and lowered his voice. "Grandma is going to bring me back a med kit so that I can learn how to use modernized tools." "You told me that Terrans are not allowed to become doctors!" "Yes. but I've already healed others that aren't as fortunate as myself. Grandma says that I have a gift. One day, these laws will change and the government's power will shift. When it does, I'll be able to practice medicine and maybe even become a real doctor." That absurdity brought Worf to his feet, leering at Julian as if he were a simple bug with no brains. "Foolish little boy! Do you really think that it's that easy!?! That one day you'll wake up and things will be different? You're too soft to accomplish anything. If any members of the Alliance were to find you, they'd turn you into a whore, not a doctor! Keep dreaming in your fantasy world; there is no glory to it - no honor." Worf spat at Julian's feet. "I despise you." Julian tried to bolt past Worf but was pushed back into his chair. He sniffed miserably, wiping away the tears that stung his eyes. "Let me tell you something about Klingons. In battle, some of us believe that it's our right to conquer the spoils of war. It isn't necessarily honorable but once the blood is pumping through our veins and the songs are pounding in our ears, we can't make the distinction." "Don't touch me." "Why not? Are you afraid that what I'm saying might be true? How long do you think you'll last down here with nothing but an old lady to protect you?" Worf grabbed Julian by his laced shirt, tearing it open with one sharp tug. "We both know what you're going to be used for." "Stay away!" Julian kicked out at Worf, darting out of his grasp only to have his long hair seized. Worf flung him onto the floorboards, growling and snarling like a feral beast. "You've always had it easy, living a sheltered life. Every morning you greet me with your despicable friendly face. I hate looking at you, listening to you, watching you prance around as the toy that you are!" Crawling away from Worf, scrambling backwards for the fireplace, Julian's fear multiplied at hearing these insults. "W-what are you talking about? I 've never met you before. you don't even know me." "You should have had some respect beaten into you long ago! Captain Sisko treats you favorably, protecting you from harm and any mistakes that you deserve to make. Dax is attracted to your shallow appearance, as effeminate as it is. Garak the tailor fawns over you every single afternoon with his shameless displays of affection." Worf drew back his hand and slapped Julian hard, knocking him clear across the floor. The smaller human lay where he had fallen, too stunned to move or even breathe. "And Chief O' Brien, all he ever talks about is how wonderful his best friend Julian is." "I don't know those people," Julian pleaded, gingerly touching his lips to feel a trickle of blood on his fingers. "I've always wanted to have a piece of you, Julian - to see what I was missing. To punish you for your smug, insufferable attitude." "Why are you describing me like this?" Julian cried, pure innocence in his terrified expression. "I only wanted to help you. I don't know why you're saying these things." Worf was through talking. He slammed Julian onto his back, shred the boy's clothing away from his slender body and just looked. This was what he had been waiting for. He had always wanted an excuse to put Julian in his place, to teach him humility. Seeing that this boy was beautiful and perfect in every way made Worf lust for him more. "No! Please don't hurt me!" Julian screamed, struggling against Worf's unmatchable strength. But Worf was too far-gone to hear a word he said. The Klingon warrior raked his sharp nails over the perfect flesh, marking it with bloody scars that wrapped around Julian's body in vines. An agonized scream escaped the young Terran but Worf paid no attention. He continued to scratch and bite at Julian, crushing him until the fragile ribs almost cracked under the impossibly heavy weight. Worf alternated between kisses and mutilating soft virginal flesh, quickly unfastening his pants to plunder Julian's body in one long thrust. Julian screamed once more, and then passed out. Worf spent the next fifteen minutes tearing Julian apart with his harsh organ, the only lubrication was the young boy's blood. Once he was finished, he looked down at the battered innocence of a boy that would no longer be a doctor. Still surging with an unnatural energy, he abandoned the injured youth to repair the runabout. He would need to leave before anyone stumbled upon the mess that he had created. Despite the evil deed that Worf had just performed, he felt good. Better than he had felt in many years. His sexual frustration was gone and so was his need to brutalize Julian Bashir - the doctor in his own world - into a destroyed heap of blood and bones. It took another few hours to fix the runabout thanks to the energy that Julian's bland food had provided. Once the vessel was functional again, Worf departed from the alternate Bajor, leaving Julian to his fate. ** "Chief O'Brien did say that you should have been transported back to our universe within a day, otherwise the chroniton particles would have dispersed. But you were gone for ten days." Doctor Bashir administered another hypo-spray into Worf's neck, wondering why his patient's breathing had quickened. "What is your point, Doctor?" "Well. what were you doing during the remainder of the time?" Clearing his head. He just couldn't give any more details because he didn't trust his ability to lie. "Repairing the runabout." "You mentioned in your report that you landed on Bajor. Did you see any of our doubles?" Julian looked at Worf with eager curiosity - a very familiar expression. "No." "Captain Sisko told me that the Julian in that world is very cruel and seems to hate the world. Do you think that he started out that way or ran into some bad luck?" "I really wouldn't know. Are you done?" "One more scan." Julian began to brood again. "I wonder if he grew up the same way as I did." "Spoiled?" Julian frowned. "Tell me something, Doctor; did you ever have long hair?" This question brought a shy smile to Julian's cheerful face. "When I was very young. My mother thought that it looked good on me." He glanced at Worf suspiciously. "That's an odd question to ask, wouldn't you agree?" Neither of them needed to acknowledge the unspoken accusation that Julian held in the air. It was too obvious. When his superior officer did not respond, Julian returned his attention to the readouts. "You saw him, the other Julian Bashir." He didn't wait for an answer. "Why were you trying to hide it? I'm hardly offended by the existence of a sadistic version of myself. He isn't me, after all." Worf grunted. "Hmm. this is odd. There's a significant increase in your. uh. testosterone levels. It seems to be directly linked to the presence of chroniton--." He was cut short as a large hand clamped onto his forearm and threw him onto the biobed. Nobody heard Julian's screams - not for some time. The End.