He returned to his desk and, true to his word, worked only on the computer, feeling utterly foolish with a towel around his shoulders like a child’s cape and a wrap around his head like an old-fashioned turban. “I promise I’m feeling much better and I will sit still while this sets,” he assured Jabara. The three of them trundled carefully to the bathroom and leaned Julian over the sink, Sarji massaging the dye into his washed hair as Jabara talked him through the check-up list for any lingering symptoms. “Miles got everything sorted?” he asked as the nurses came back, noting that the station felt quite level. He waited on the edge of the bed while the nurses replicated human hair dye to his instructions, grateful that the infirmary was relatively empty. Julian tried and was glad to find that he could, after a fashion he was still rather dizzy. “Yes,” said Julian, peeking out slightly, making the whole thing rather worse by only allowing his brown forehead and the now white-blond poof of his hair to show over the blanket’s edge. “Perhaps we can try dyeing it back,” suggested Sarji. The nurses looked at each other but knew better than to agree. “I look ridiculous!” came the muffled voice beneath the blanket. Taking a deep breath, he lifted it-and yelped, dropping the mirror to his lap and hurriedly pulling his blanket over his head. Jabara pursed her lips and handed Julian a mirror. We were able to stop it before it bleached your skin completely.” “It’s fortunate Sarji had her head on straight to call for a medical emergency. “It nearly did,” said Nurse Jabara, coming up alongside Sarji. “That could have done serious cellular damage in a dose that large!” ![]() ![]() “Why did we have that on a high shelf?” he demanded. “When you were about to close the cabinet, sir, the station tilted again and one of the vials slid out and broke over your head.” He felt the cold hiss of a hypospray against his neck a moment later and breathed in relief as he felt the blocker take hold. He attempted to sit up and aborted the move when his head protested vehemently. “Did you have to operate on me?” he asked. Nurse Sarji stood in front of him, clad in operating scrubs. With a long-suffering sigh, Julian opened his eyes again, rolling them to get them to focus. “Head trauma?” he guessed, blinking his eyes open and closing them again immediately. Julian’s mind caught up with him as it did its own assessment. “Doctor Bashir?” A concerned voice filtered through the pounding headache that seemed to be Julian’s entire world and he groaned against the pressure. ![]() His instincts thankfully acting more quickly than his curiosity, Julian ducked his head-later he would reflect that it was what saved his eyes. The nurse nodded in relieved agreement and Julian pulled one long leg up to stand and close the cupboard when the deck tilted further. “Perhaps we should delay this part until everything is a bit steadier, hmm?” ![]() “Thank you, Sarji,” said Julian, reaching down to cover the broken vial. “Doctor, watch out!” shouted one of the nurses as the station yawed again and one of the vials came crashing down from the open cabinet, narrowly missing breaking over Julian’s head. It would be nice to have one inventory day that was actually boring, though. Julian knew that Miles O’Brien, his best friend, would be doing his level best to keep the station, well, level, but that even a very capable engineer could only do so much against the whims of space. Today, for example, it was some kind of space anomaly (Julian quietly wondered if anomalies all gathered together out here around installations like space stations in a sort of cosmic Parrises Squares) that was rocking the station like a ship at sea. Of course it was always the inventory days, and who knew what “drastically wrong” might entail-perhaps it would be a docking explosion or a Klingon bar fight or a tense standoff in Ops or what have you. It was always the inventory days when something went drastically wrong, mused Julian Bashir to himself.
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