Author:  Saklani 
Title:  The Art of Healing 
Codes: mirror Bashir/Beverly Crusher 
Series:  DS9/TNG 
Rating:  NC-17 
Beta:  none, yet 

Summary:  Dr. Beverly Crusher finds herself trapped in the 
MU and involved in the rebellion.  Will she ever return to 
her own universe? Will she want to? 

Disclaimer: PARABORG owns all.  I make no money, I swear!! 

Feedback:  HELL YEAH!  to saklani@wildmail.com 

Posting-  Sure! Go ahead, just let me know where ya put it! 

Author's Notes:  I bet you can guess what this is!  Yep, 
another story about the power of love. Gee, am I predictable 
or what? 

= = = = = = = =

"The Art of Healing"

Beverly Crusher forced open her eyes, containing the groan that
threatened to spill from her lips.  The light seemed unnaturally
bright and hurt her eyes.  This did not help her pounding
headache, and she shut them again.

A familiar hiss sounded in her ear, and she felt a hypospray
discharge its contents into her neck.  The ache in her head
quickly faded.  

"Thank you," she said.

"Your welcome," an unfamiliar male voice answered.

Beverly turned to look at the speaker.  He was a middle aged
man, with dark brown eyes and blondish hair tinged with gray. 
His clothes were rather shabby.

Before she could say anything, he looked past her and said,
"She just woke up, Captain O'Brien."

"Captain O'Brien?" she murmured.

"Thank you, Mr. Andrews," a voice Beverly knew well answered.

She sat up quickly and faced the new man.  "Chief?" she asked.

He laughed.  "I'm afraid not.  I'm Captain Miles 'Smiley'
O'Brien."  He jerked his finger over his shoulder, at a taller,
sour-faced man who skulked behind him.  "This is Captain Julian
Bashir."

She ran her tongue over her now dry lips, remembering a
briefing she had attended with Jean-Luc about the parallel
universe.  "So, I'm in the mirror universe.  How delightful."

O'Brien grinned at her.  "Thanks to the odd leaking of beta
particles from your shuttle's thrusters, you are.  I don't know
how you kept your shuttlecraft under control at all.  I'm afraid
it was so badly damaged even we couldn't salvage much."

She gazed at him, refusing to show any sign of nervousness or
fear.  "I don't suppose you have a way for me to get back to my
universe?"

"There is a way for me to get you back," O'Brien said.

Bashir growled behind him.  "You're not just going to let her
go back, are you?  She can help us.  She's a doctor, and we need
a doctor badly right now."

"This isn't her universe, Julian.  She doesn't have anything to
do with our fight."

"And we don't have anything to do with her being here, so we
don't have to help her get back."

Beverly hopped off the bed and stood tall.  She glared at
Bashir through slitted eyes.  "It is true that I am a doctor. 
My name is Dr. Beverly Crusher, and I happen to be the CMO of
the flagship of the Federation.  I don't like being threatened,
but I am a doctor, and I will aid anyone who needs me."  She
glanced around the Infirmary, taking in the worn out equipment. 
"And I can see how you might need assistance."

Mr. Andrews stepped forward at this comment.  "I do the best
that I can.  The Alliance doesn't exactly give medical training
to Terrans.  I learned everything I know by observing other
doctors and reading whatever I could get my hands on."

Beverly inclined her head at him.  "I wasn't laying blame on
you or anyone else.  I am sure you do everything you can to help
your patients."  

He looked at the floor.  "In some cases, that's relatively
little."   

"Like right now," Bashir said.  "We have almost a dozen people
with serious injuries that you can't treat, Andrews, but maybe
Dr. Beverly Crusher, CMO of the flagship of the Federation,
can."  His voice was heavily laden with sarcasm.

Crusher ignored him and focused on Andrews.  "Are there
patients in need of care whom you cannot treat?"

His face became bleak.  "I don't have the knowledge necessary."

"Show me."

Andrews nodded and walked toward another room.  Beverly
followed close on his heels.

O'Brien turned and grinned at Bashir.  "You really are a
bastard, Julian.  All we had to do was ask her to help us."  He
strolled out of the Infirmary, calling over his shoulder,
"Coming?"

Bashir stared in the direction Crusher had gone for a few more
seconds and then reluctantly went after O'Brien. **********

Dr. Beverly Crusher carefully peeled off her surgical gown. 
She had been in surgery for over twelve hours, but she felt
wonderful.  All but two of her patients were certain to recover,
and the other two now had a fighting chance at survival.  Given
the nature of the equipment she had to work with and the
severity of the injuries, all of the surgeries being so
successful bordered on a major miracle.

She gave a thumbs up to Mr. Andrews, as he walked by her, and
he smiled in response.  Beverly liked him.  He had paid close
attention to the surgeries and asked her good questions about
all of them.  Better still, he had the heart of a doctor.  Given
the proper medical training, he would make a superior physician.

She sighed.  Fat chance of him getting any medical training in
this screwed up universe.  

She tossed her gown into the recycler and walked into the main
part of the Infirmary.  There, she saw Mr. Andrews animatedly
talking to Captains O'Brien and Bashir.    

When Beverly entered the room, all conversation ceased, and
three pairs of eyes focused on her.  She nonchalantly made her
way to where the men were standing.  Years of being an
attractive women gave her the ability to ignore the stares.

"It seems we owe you our deepest thanks and an apology,"
O'Brien said, as Beverly joined them.  He gave a pointed glare
at Bashir.  "Don't we, Julian?" 

"Sure," the other man muttered.

Beverly smiled charmingly.  "No thanks is necessary, but I do
accept the apology."

"Mr. Andrews tells us that you performed several miracles
during the surgeries.  How is everyone?"

"I wish I could work miracles," Beverly replied.  "Even with
the surgery, two of your crew are still in critical condition."

"Kiro and Sanchez," Andrews filled in.

"Still, now they have a chance to recover, where before they
had none," O'Brien said.

Beverly nodded.  "And everyone else should be all right in, at
most, a few weeks.  I'll need to stay and monitor their progress
for a week or so, though."

O'Brien smiled.  "Stay as long as you like.  Captain Bashir
will see to your lodgings and show you around."

Bashir opened his mouth to protest, but thought better of it. 
"Sure," he said again.

"I can find my own way around," Beverly said.

"Captain Bashir is pleased to give you a tour, Dr. Crusher. 
Besides, there are several areas we wouldn't want you wandering
into without escort."

//Like the interrogation chambers,// Beverly thought, thinking
again of Starfleet's briefing about the mirror universe.

"Yes, we wouldn't want to traumatize you," Bashir said, "with
our primitive and cruel practices."

"Julian!" O'Brien snapped. 

Beverly ignored the comment.  She turned instead to Mr.
Andrews.  "You should get some rest."

Andrews nodded.  "Yes.  I'll get the Mr. Athende to inform both
of us if anything happens.  I'll see you later, Dr. Crusher. 
Thank you for teaching me so much."

"My privilege and my duty to my oath," Beverly responded. 
"Sleep well, Mr. Andrews.  You deserve to."

Andrews left with a parting nod to the other men.

"He's a fine man," Beverly said.  "It is a pity he won't ever
receive formal medical training.  He has such talent."

"We  weren't born as lucky as you were," Bashir said with a
sneer.

"I am only too aware of that, Captain Bashir," Beverly answered
quietly.  The three fell into a moment of silence, both men
startled by her reaction to Bashir's cruelty.

She spoke again, "I am very tired, gentleman.  I would
appreciate being shown to my room.  Some food would also be
nice."

O'Brien glared at Julian, who sneered back.  However, it was
Julian who said, "I'll show you to your room, via the
commissary.  I'm afraid our food isn't up to Federation
standards," he added with a trace of his customary venom.

The other Captain growled, but Beverly simply said, "Right now,
I could eat fried vole."

"One of our specialties," Bashir said.

"Good.  Lead on.  Good night, Captain O'Brien."

"Sleep well, Doctor.  And thank you again."

She smiled at him, amused at how his cheeks flushed slightly in
response.  //You still got it, old girl,// she thought.  She
glanced at the back of the man now leading her away from the
Infirmary.  //At least, some men think so.//  

Hurrying to keep up with Bashir's long stride, she caught
herself admiring his lean frame.  //You are tired,// she chided
herself. Still, she stayed a step behind him, so she could watch
his long legs and backside.  The thought of his response to
catching her almost made her laugh wickedly.  

He stopped in front of what was the Replimat on DS9.  "This is
where we eat," he said.

"I never would have guessed," she said cheerfully.  Now that
she was off duty, she felt free to match Bashir in his petty
game of wits. She'd wipe the floor with him.  "Are we going to
go in or stand here?"  

He flushed angrily.  "I was waiting for you.  Isn't that what
gentleman do, wait for ladies?"

"Yes, Captain Bashir, that's what gentleman do."  Beverly's
tone indicated that he was far from a gentleman in her book. 
She strolled past him before he could answer.

He stalked after her, annoyed at how easily she got herself
some food and found a table.  He grabbed himself something and
plopped into the chair across from her.

They ate in silence, and Beverly savored the chance to relax
and fill her empty stomach.  

"When do you want your tour?" Bashir asked suddenly.

Beverly looked at him, startled out of her reverie.  "Tomorrow,
after I check over all my patients," she said, recovering
quickly.

"Call me when you're ready," he said.

She nodded and tried to focus on her food.  She became
increasingly aware of his eyes watching her.  "Is there
something else?" she asked testily.

"I was curious," he admitted softly, "about the oath you
mentioned. What is it?"  

Beverly smiled at his question.  "The Hippocratic Oath.  It was
written long ago by a Terran, and it is an oath that many
doctors still swear by."

"How does it go?" 

She shut her eyes and recited from memory,

"I SWEAR by Apollo the physician and Aesculapius, and Health,
and All-heal, and all the gods and goddesses, that, according to
my ability and judgment, I will keep this Oath and this
stipulation -- to reckon him who taught me this Art equally dear
to me as my parents, to share my substance with him, and relieve
his necessities if required; to look upon his offspring in the
same footing as my own brothers, and to teach them this art, if
they shall wish to learn it, without fee or stipulation; and
that by precept, lecture, and every other mode of instruction, I
will impart a knowledge of the Art to my own sons, and those of
my teachers, and to disciples bound by a stipulation and oath
according to the law of medicine, but to none others. I will
follow that system of regimen which, according to my ability and
judgment, I consider for the benefit of my patients, and abstain
from whatever is deleterious and mischievous... with purity and
with holiness I will pass my life and practice my Art. I will
not cut persons labouring under the stone, but will leave this
to be done by men who are practitioners of this work. Into
whatever houses I enter, I will go into them for the benefit of
the sick, and will abstain from every voluntary act of mischief
and corruption; and, further, from the seduction of females or
males, of freemen and slaves. Whatever, in connection with my
professional service, or not in connection with it, I see or
hear, in the life of men, which ought not to be spoken of
abroad, I will not divulge, as reckoning that all such should be
kept secret. While I continue to keep this Oath unviolated, may
it be granted to me to enjoy life and the practice of the art,
respected by all men, in all times. But should I trespass and
violate this Oath, may the reverse be my lot."

When she opened her eyes, she found Bashir regarding her
strangely. His eyes were unreadable.  

"I like that," he said.  

She blinked in surprise.  "So do I," she answered.

They both fell silent again.  Beverly wondered what Bashir was
thinking.  She finally gave up and finished her food.  

As soon as he also was done, Bashir mutely led Beverly to her
quarters. He stopped at the door.  "I guess I'll see you
tomorrow," he said.

"May I ask you a question?" Beverly queried, finally giving in
to her curiosity. 

"If you want," he said, his look guarded.

"Why did you ask me about the Oath?"

He shrugged.  "I was interested."

"Why?"

His eyes flashed.  "What does it matter?  I was, so I asked."

Unthinkingly, Beverly put her hand on his arm to soothe him. 
Instead, he jerked away from her.

"I didn't mean to anger you," she said.  "I enjoyed reciting
the Oath for you.  It contains the principles by which I follow
my profession. I believe very much in the words."  Beverly kept
her tone warm, trying to encourage him to expose his friendly
side again.

Instead, he blurted, "Is it true that my counterpart is a
doctor?"

"Yes, and one of the best," Beverly answered.

"I hate him," Bashir spat and then turned and fled down the
hall, leaving a bewildered Beverly to stare after him. **********

"You mustn't mind Captain Bashir," Mr. Andrews said, as he
watched Dr. Crusher complete her scans on one of her patients. 
"How's Tuvok doing?"

"He's going to be fine," Beverly reassured, "although it will
be several days before he regains full consciousness."

"Tuvok is a fine man.  We can't afford to lose him."

"And you won't," Beverly promised.  She went back to the
previous subject. "I can't help but mind Captain Bashir.  His
mood swings are something fierce.  I had no idea how he was
going to react to anything I said."

Andrews nodded.  "I know.  I don't understand how Captain
O'Brien puts up with him.  Somehow, they manage to stay friends,
despite Captain Bashir's temperament.  Of course, it's
understandable."

"Can you hand me my tricorder?" Beverly asked, moving to the
bio bed of a Trill patient.  Andrews gave her the instrument,
and Beverly said, "What's understandable?"

"Bashir's moodiness."

"Why?"

"Well, we all have ugly pasts, but Captain Bashir's is
particularly awful."

Beverly glanced up from her comatose patient, eyebrows raised
in inquiry.

"You won't tell anyone I told you this, will you?"

"Of course not," Beverly assured, finishing her scan.  "Ah,
these readings are much better than they were last night.  Pulse
is good, blood pressure is down...."

Andrews grinned.  "On her way to a full recovery?"

"Yes," Beverly said.  "She should be awake in an hour or so."

"Good," he said, then sobered.  "Captain Bashir was owned by a
Cardassian named Kotran Pa'Dar.  He owns.... er owned, a
dilithium-rich moon off Qo'noS, called Praxis.  Most of his
slaves worked there. Bashir was raised there and worked in the
mines until he was about fifteen.  Unfortunately, Pa'Dar decided
to take a tour of his mine and happened to spot Bashir. "

Beverly paused in her work and gave Andrews her full attention.

He looked at her apologetically.  "Pa'Dar had perversions that
made even his fellow Cardies squirm.  When he left Praxis, he
took Bashir with him.  He kept him for ten years."

Beverly shut her eyes, as her mind filled with horrible images.
"Dear God, no wonder...."

"When Bashir escaped, he left a trail of dead Cardassians
behind him, including Pa'Dar."  Andrews sighed.  "I don't think
he's ever had a normal relationship with anyone.  Dax only used
him for sex.  She barely socialized with him outside of bed." 
Andrews looked at his feet.  "I shouldn't be telling you this,
but since you are a doctor.... maybe you can help him."

"I'll try, if only by being more understanding," Beverly
promised.

Andrews smiled again.  "Your universe must be a wonderful
place," he said, "to produce people like you."

"Even a twisted universe like this one produces good people,
Mr. Andrews.  You are proof of that," Beverly answered.

His weathered face filed with pride.  "I guess we better get on
with the rounds."

They returned to the job, but Beverly found her mind kept
wandering back to what Andrews had told her about Bashir.
**********

"That's about all," Bashir said, halting in front Dr. Crusher's
quarters.  "You know everything else."  

Beverly gave him her most charming smile.  "Thank you, Captain
Bashir. This tour has been most helpful.  At least I won't get
lost trying to find my way to my quarters."

He shrugged.  "Even if you did, you could just ask somebody. 
Everybody know who you are- the Federation doctor who performs
miracles on a daily basis.  They'd be falling all over each
other to help you."

"You wouldn't," Beverly countered softly.

"I'd help you if you asked.  I just don't think you're anything
special," he said coldly.

"I'm not," Beverly said.  "I'm just a doctor."

"Yeah, well everyone else, including Captain O'Brien, thinks
you're terrific.  Skilled, selfless, intelligent, kind...." He
trailed off and then added, "Everything I'm not."

This was the opening Beverly had been looking for.  "You're a
Captain in a rebellion against tyranny, Julian.  That's
something to be proud of!"

He glared at her.  "Don't patronize me!  I don't want your
pity!"  He started to leave, but she grabbed his arm.

"I'm not offering pity," she said.  "I'm offering friendship
and understanding.  I want to help you!"

"Why?" he snarled, shaking her off.  

"If nothing else, because I am a doctor, and I want to help
anyone in pain."

"You can't help me with this pain," he sneered back.

"How do you know, unless you try?  You will never heal if you
push everyone away from you!"

With a sudden rush, Bashir slammed Beverly into the wall.  His
hands clenched her shoulders painfully.  "What do you know of
me?!  I've tried to let people close, and look where it got me!!
Dax used me.  She let me into her bed, but never offered me love
or even friendship.  I suffered when she died, but she wouldn't
have noticed if I wasn't there one day!"

He slammed the unmoving Beverly into the wall again.  "What can
you know about pain like mine, anyway, Federation doctor?  You
were raised by your parents, in a nice home, not in a hellhole
of a mine by people who didn't want you!  You have an education,
a career, probably a family....  What did I ever get?  Tell me,
Dr. Beverly Crusher, what did I get??!!"

"A second chance," she whispered.  "And my friendship, if
you'll take it."

He stared at her with wild eyes, still pinning her to the wall.
She gazed back at him, trying to convey her sincerity.  The
minutes stretched on.

The kiss, when it came, was crushing.  Bashir smashed his mouth
into Beverly's, as if trying to suck the life out of her.  She
didn't resist, parting her lips to allow his tongue inside.  The
coppery taste of blood flooded her mouth, as his teeth
ruthlessly scraped her lips. His hands tightened even more on
her shoulders, and she resisted the natural cry of pain. 
Instead, she put her own hands on the small of his back.

Bashir finally pulled away, panting for breath.  He stared at
the woman still in his arms, who also gasped for air through her
bleeding lips. He sobbed and leaned his head against the wall
next to her, releasing the fierce grip on her shoulders.     

Beverly reached up with one hand and guided his face to her
shoulder. He did not resist.  His tears soon soaked through her
uniform and wet her skin.  She held him, whispering soft words
of comfort.  

"I hate being alone," he choked out between sobs.

"I know," Beverly soothed.  "I understand."  

She guided him into her quarters.  She sat on the stiff
Cardassian couch, pulling Julian close.  He buried his face into
her neck and lay alongside her.

His sobs trailed off into an occasional whimper and finally
ceased. Beverly listened to him breathe in a deep, steady
rhythm.  She smiled; Bashir trusted her enough to fall asleep in
her arms.  She lay her cheek in his hair and followed him into
slumber. **********  

When Julian Bashir woke up, he found himself cradled in gentle
arms. He savored the unfamiliar sensation of being held.  He
raised his head and looked into Crusher's face.    

With a curse, he jerked back, nearly tumbling off the couch. 
He scrambled to his feet, as Beverly, startled awake, looked at
him in sleepy confusion.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

"What am I doing here?" he demanded.

"Don't you remember?"  Beverly lifted a hand to her cracked
lips. Speaking had reopened one of the cuts.

He followed the movement of her hand with his eyes.  "Yes, I
remember," he said sulkily.  "I just don't understand."

Beverly pulled herself off the couch and found her med kit. 
She took out a dermal regenerator.  "Understand what part?"

"Why you were nice to me," he said.  Bashir put an odd emphasis
on the word nice, as if it was unfamiliar to him.

She sighed.  "I thought I explained that already.  Why is it so
hard for you to accept my explanations?"

"Because nobody else has ever cared about me before," he
answered simply.  "Why should you?"

"Captain O'Brien cares about you," Beverly countered.  She
approached Bashir.

"Yeah, I guess," Julian muttered.  He looked ready to flee as
Beverly came closer.

She stopped a few feet from the skittish man.  "Would you help
me with the cuts on my lips?"

He hesitated.  "Perhaps Andrews should..."

Beverly smiled, although it caused her poor lips more pain. 
"And how would I explain to him how I got the damage?"

Bashir thrummed with anger.  "I am sure you can tell him I was
being a bastard, as usual."

"Julian, please heal my lips," Beverly said softly, giving him
a pleading look.

The new tact worked.  After a moment, Bashir slowly closed the
distance between them and took the regenerator.  With the touch
of a man who had done this many times before, he sealed the
wounds. Once this was done, he stepped back quickly.

"Thank you," Beverly said.       

He nodded, but said nothing.

"Would you like to have some breakfast with me?" she asked.

"No, I... I don't... I have a lot of work to do."  

She caught his arm before he could retreat for the door.  "I
want to see you again, Julian.  Will you have time for dinner?"

"No," he said.  "Let me go."

"Don't pull away from me, Julian.  I won't hurt you.  You know
I would never do that."

His breath came harshly.  "Let me alone.  I don't want your
help.  I don't need anything from you, especially your
friendship."  He spat the last words.

She released him.  "I'm sorry you feel that way, Julian.  I
hope you change your mind."

He shook his head, fighting back tears.  "I won't.  Never. 
Just leave me alone!"  

Beverly watched him go, her heart heavy within her. **********

Captain O'Brien watched his silent co-Captain review the latest
tactical reports for the tenth time.  Bashir had been remarkably
quiet the whole day.  O'Brien found he almost missed the usual
snide comments.

"So," he finally said to break the silence, "Mr. Andrews told
me that Kiro and Sanchez are going to make it.  We really owe
Dr. Crusher."  

He saw Bashir's back get ridged at the mention of Crusher's
name.  //There's the problem,// he thought, //but why?//

"I wish we had some way of repaying her," he continued
casually, hoping Bashir would react.

He did.  

"We can send her home immediately," he said coldly.  "This very
moment."

"I don't think she would go," O'Brien said.  "She is committed
to her patients."

"A saint," Bashir snorted.

"In fact, if we worked everything out correctly, I bet we could
prolong her stay indefinitely."

Julian turned curious eyes on O'Brien.  "What do you mean?"

The older man shrugged.  "We have some very ambitious raids
planned, but we can't afford the casualties.  However, Dr.
Crusher's presence changes that.  She can save the majority of
the people who otherwise would lose their lives.  And she would
stay to do that."

"So, if we ran raid after raid..."  Julian said.

"... she would stay here as long as it took the treat everyone.
We could cause some serious damage to the Alliance, without
losing too many lives.  We might even come out ahead of the
deal, if we free some slave camps."

Julian began pacing.  "She wouldn't even suspect.  All she
would see is people needing her help."

"And she'll stay to treat them."  Captain O'Brien smiled
craftily.  "We can use her Federation morals against her."

Bashir stopped, as his conscience flickered.  "But she would
have to go back eventually."

O'Brien shrugged.  "Sure, but not for quite a long time."

Bashir hesitated for a moment longer and then looked at
O'Brien.  "What about repaying her for all her help to us?' he
asked.

O'Brien's smile widened into a cruel smirk.  "We'll just have
longer to think about an appropriate thank you."

Bashir answered the smile with one of his own.  "Let's do it."
**********

Four weeks and two raids later, Dr. Beverly Crusher found
herself still on the mirror Terok Nor and still up to her ears
in patients.

The latest raid had destroyed a mining operation and freed
several dozen former Alliance slaves.  They were in pathetic
shape, and Beverly worked long hours helping them.  The
steadfast Mr. Andrews worked beside her, and they formed a
partnership as close as hers with Nurse Ogawa.

Sometimes, Beverly would think about returning home.  She was
violating the Prime Directive by remaining, but she could not
leave people who needed her care.  So, Beverly remained...

The rebels considered her one of them now.  She continued to
wear her uniform when she could, but she often wore a simple
garment Andrews gave her.  This helped her blend in, and she
made numerous friends.

When she was not treating patients, she taught anyone
interested triage and other basic medical procedures.  She also
furthered the medical education of Mr. Andrews and Mr. Athende.  

And Captain O'Brien made sure he dropped in everyday to thank
her for all her help and tell her that she should feel free at
any time to leave.

And so it went for months... 

And months...

And months... **********

Captain Julian Bashir stood outside the Infirmary and watched
Dr. Crusher treat yet another patient.  Since the night he had
slept in her arms, so many months ago, he had avoided her at all
costs.  But tonight, some irresistible force (he did not know
that it was his long dormant conscience) had brought him here.

Julian watched her closely.  She looked exhausted, but every
movement was precise.  He wondered at her strength.  He knew the
latest raid had kept her up for over two days, with nothing more
than token rest.

When she finished with the patient, Beverly summoned Mr.
Athende.  She talked to him for a moment and then headed for the
exit.  She staggered down the halls, her weary legs barely
keeping her upright.

Bashir followed her silently, concerned by her now unsteady
walk.  When she suddenly slumped, he shot forward and caught her.

"Thanks," she muttered blearily. 

"Let me help you," he said.

Beverly lacked the strength to protest as he half carried her
to her quarters.  Once inside, he maneuvered her to the bed. 
She flopped on it, resolved to sleep in her dirty outfit.

Bashir worried his lower lip with his teeth, as he looked down
at the still figure of Beverly Crusher.  Finally, he leaned over
and began peeling her clothes off.  She offered no resistance,
allowing him to move her body this way and that.

And then she lay before him, bare and beautiful.  He stared
down at her, memorizing every inch.  She shut her eyes again,
ignoring the scrutiny.

He reached out and trailed gentle fingers down her side.  She
sighed softly, but made no attempt to move away.  She was much
too tired for that.  

Entranced, he sank down by her side and continued his careful
exploration.  Down her sides, up her stomach, over her firm
breasts, along her soft thighs... everywhere.

She drifted into sleep, even as his hands trailed to her
center.  Only a soft moan, as one finger fondled her, marked
that her body was even aware of the touches.

Bashir looked into her face when she moaned, and his heart
constricted. She was helpless, as he had been so many times, and
he was taking advantage of her as Pa'Dar had of him.  He shrank
back with a cry of self disgust.

Trying not to look at her lying there so enticingly, Bashir
covered Beverly with a blanket.  He fled from her rooms and
hastened to the bar to get nice and drunk. 

**********

TBC...