Author's Note: There's an author's note at the end. I don't want to give anything away.

9

A tiny stream trickled into the small, stone slab lined pool. He was surrounded by trees and flowers that blocked the view of the rest of the monastery grounds, for which Bashir was grateful. A slight breeze shifted the leaves above him; he could hear their rustling, and it reminded him of the sound of the alpine meadow in which his shuttle had landed. It was peaceful here, away from the sounds of the monastery, muted though they were, and very far removed from the bustle of any Bajoran city. And so distant from the station.

Bashir crouched by the pond and dipped one hand into the cool water. It was not nearly as cold as the river neither he nor Narayan had ever named. The sound of the water burbling over the rocks was just as gentle as the sound of the breeze in the trees. Bashir appreciated it. They were like smaller versions of the sounds he had grown used to in the mountains.

He pulled his hand out again and watched the sparkling drops fall from his fingertips. They barely made a noise, even to his sensitive hearing, when they hit the surface of the pond.

Bashir sat down on one of the stone slabs and watched the little waterfall where the stream joined the pond for awhile. It was peaceful here, and he felt a respite from himself, from the strangeness of the last two weeks. Narayan had said she'd wanted to visit a Bajoran monastery. She might not be real, and her wishes no more than something Bashir's imagination had conjured up, but he could do this for her. He could go where she could not. It seemed like the only gesture he could make to a woman who had never existed. It was a good one. He found himself wondering why he'd never visited a Bajoran monastery before; it was so peaceful, so relaxing.

He heard someone approaching on the path, but ignored the sound of the footsteps. Any monk or vedek who came upon him would realize he wanted to be alone and let him be. Bashir kept his eyes on the water as the footsteps drew near, then stopped abruptly. The startled gasp made him jerk his head up.

Bashir was on his feet in a split second.

"I'm sorry," Narayan said. "I didn't meant to disturb–"

"Syreeta?", Bashir managed.

She closed her mouth abruptly, staring at him. Bashir stared back, unable to believe she was right there. She was dressed in a beautiful green and blue sari with golden edging, and her long hair, which she had always worn back during their trek, fell past her shoulders.

"You– remember me?", she managed, her voice heavy with shock.

Bashir splashed through the pond, not caring that he was soaking his pants and shoes, and grabbed her, pulling her into a tight hug. Narayan flung her arms around him, holding him hard. It was only then that Bashir believed she was really there, her solid presence in his arms confirmed it. He pulled away, took her face in his hands, kissed her on the lips and pulled her back into a hug.

"Of course I remember you!", he finally said, his voice shaking. "How could I forget?"

"I thought– they told me it was just a dream, that I'd only been missing for thirty-five hours. The shuttle, I mean. At first, I thought they must be wrong, but then– After all this time, I'd come to accept it wasn't real."

Bashir pulled back, looking down at her in confusion.

"All this time?", he asked. "How long has it been?"

She gave him a puzzled look of her own.

"Well, almost two years–"

"Two years!"

Narayan nodded.

"It's only been two weeks!"

They stared at each other in shock, then Narayan shook her head slowly.

"What the hell happened to us, Julian?"

"I don't know," he said. "But something strange. They said my shuttle hit a subspace eddy."

"Mine too!"

"Your crewmates? Were they okay?"

Relief filled her face as she nodded.

"They were. Julian– I was so convinced it happened, but friends of mine in Intelligence did some subtle checking. They said you hadn't experienced anything like I had."

"Not two years ago I hadn't!", he exclaimed. "But how would you have known me? We never met before– well, whenever it was."

"One of my medical colleagues knows you. He was impressed by your work on Bajor. He used to talk about it. After awhile, I thought I had dragged your name up from my memories of his conversations."

Bashir nodded. It was like how he'd remembered the Sir John, or at least how O'Brien had thought he'd remembered it.

"But– I searched for your personnel file," he said. "I couldn't find you anywhere. Nor any mention of Doctor Berch, or the disaster on Lionus."

She closed her eyes, nodding.

"Yes, I know." She opened her eyes again. "Julian, I'm sorry, I didn't want to lie to you. I was on a mission and working on an assumed identity. All the details I gave you were true. Just the names were changed."

Bashir wondered if he should feel angry or betrayed by that. He didn't. Partly because he was so elated to see her it was making him dizzy, partly because he understood the nature of her work. Telling one person could jeopardize her security and that of her mission, no matter how stranded they had been.

"What's your real name?", he asked.

"Sharanjeet Madurai. This time, it really is. You can look that up, and you'll find me listed as a pilot."

"And your sisters? And Doctor Berch?"

"My sisters were Malini and Amlika. Doctor Berch is really Doctor Treris Jyn. Berch is a nickname. I have no idea where it comes from, even he can't remember. He's had it since he was a kid. I grew up on Illyrium. It has two moons, too: Thracia and Lycia."

"What about the Sir John? It's been decommissioned for twelve years!"

"Yes, it has. It's not the ship on which I was serving. I'm sorry, Julian, I can't give you that name."

He nodded. Then he had to sit down. Madurai sat down beside him, smoothing her skirt over her knees.

"I wish I knew how to explain this," he said.

"Me, too," she replied with conviction. She tucked her hair behind her ears and a faint jingling sound caught Bashir's attention. He looked up to see the Bajoran-style earring on her left ear.

"You're married!", he exclaimed.

She smiled slightly.

"Yes. To Jyn."

"Berch?

She nodded again.

"At first– after I woke up, I felt as if nothing had changed. I lost someone else who meant a lot to me. I didn't want– I didn't want to talk about it, because I thought if I did, then it really never happened, and you were really living your life happily on DS9 without remembering me. Then I realized I could still have learned something from you. It helped."

Bashir nodded.

"I know exactly how you feel," he said.

She raised her eyebrows.

"Then you are enhanced?"

He nodded, looking puzzled.

"Yes, I did tell you that. I remember telling you that. And now it really did happen."

She nodded.

"But when I brought that up, everyone who knew you brushed it off, saying I was out of my mind. I thought I must have made it up because of my own enhancement. But– ah, yes. If the truth just came out recently, that means recently for you. No one would have known two years ago."

He nodded.

"We still don't know what happened," he said.

Madurai looked around them.

"Maybe we should ask one of the vedeks," she suggested.

"Why?"

"Because I haven't the slightest idea how else we'd figure this out. Do you think we hit the same subspace eddy in two separate quadrants years apart from each other? I don't."

Bashir sighed.

"We can try," he agreed.

They rose and made their way down the path, Bashir automatically walking in front. When he realized what he was doing, he stopped to look back at Madurai, who was laughing, one hand over her mouth. She had tears in her eyes, too.

"Oh, do lead on," she said, shaking her head.

He grinned and did so. They came to the temple and went inside. It was empty, so they made their way to the front of the room, sitting on the cushions on the floor. It was peaceful in there, as it had been outside, but in a different way. Here it was warm and dim and smelled faintly of sweet incense.

After a minute, a vedek came in through a side entrance. She was average height, a little shorter than Madurai, with pale skin and blue eyes. Her head was uncovered, and she had light brown hair that fell to just below her ears, and a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her ridged nose. When she saw Bashir and Madurai she stopped, looking puzzled for a moment, then smiled.

"Ah," she said, speaking to Madurai, her voice warm. "I wondered when you came here what the other side of your story was. Now I understand."

"Vedek Mela," Madurai said, and Bashir suspected that was for his benefit. "What do you mean?"

"You have been touched by the Prophets," Mela said, then nodded at Bashir. "So has he."

"But how?", Bashir asked. "We weren't anywhere near the wormhole. At least I wasn't! Were you?"

Madurai shook her head.

"The Prophets aren't confined to the Celestial Temple," Mela said.

"But this happened to me two years ago, and to him just two weeks ago!", Madurai protested.

"Captain Sisko said they don't operate in linear time," Bashir said.

"So what about the planet?", Madurai asked. "It wasn't real."

"It most likely was," Vedek Mela said.

"But where was it?", Bashir murmured.

Mela smiled.

"It may be a planet no human has ever seen. It may not have even been now, or two years ago. The Prophets work in mysterious ways. You may never know where you were, but that does not mean you cannot learn why you were there."

"I already know that," Madurai whispered.

"I think I do, too," Bashir replied.

"Then take that peace, children, and not the confusion." She smiled at them and walked out, as quietly as she had come.

Bashir and Madurai sat in silence for awhile. Bashir was unsure how to feel, other than stunned. Was it possible that the wormhole aliens had brought him and Madurai to some distant planet, years apart from each other in terms of their real lives? It was astonishing to think it could have happened. And humbling to think entities on such a vastly different plane had noticed him.

"Julian," Madurai said, breaking the silence. He looked over at her. She reached around to the back of her neck and unhooked the necklace she wore beneath her clothing. He hadn't dreamt that, either. "I want you to have this."

"What? I can't take that! Your father made that for you."

"Yes, I know. But mine wasn't the only life he touched. I'll always remember him, and I want other people to remember him, too. Even if it's through me."

"Syreeta– I'm sorry, Sharanjeet."

"It's all right," she said with a smile. "You can call me Sharan, too."

"I can't accept this."

"You can," she replied and hooked it around his neck before he could protest again. Then she sat back and looked at him. "It was hard, not having you around all of a sudden. If I sent letters, would you reply?"

"Of course," he said, without even needing to think about it. "But where will I send them?"

She smiled.

"I'll send the first one. If you just reply, it will get to me. The signal will be coded and you can't– well, I expect you could actually break it. Better if you don't, though, for you own sake."

"All right," he agreed. "How long are you here for?"

"Two more days. You?"

"Three." He paused, then smiled at her. "Shall we find somewhere to have dinner?"

Madurai grinned at him, and Bashir could tell she had truly become happy over the last couple of years. If she could do it, he knew he could, too. She had shown him that much as possible.

"As long as I don't have to hunt it, I'd love to."

Author's Note: I chose the name "Syreeta" because it's a Hindi name, but it also has an Arabic meaning, which is "companion". The name "Sharanjeet" means "protector". Vedek Mela is me; my first name is Melanie and the description is what I look like. I am not, of course, a religious person of any type, nor do I have nose ridges. I thought it would be fun to put myself in the story somewhere.