DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters are the property of Paramount Studios, Inc and Viacom. The story contents are the creation and property of Djinn and are copyright (c) 2003 by Djinn. This story is Rated PG-13.

It Wouldn't Be Make-Believe

by Djinn

It's a Barnum and Bailey world, just as phony as it can be

But it wouldn't be make-believe, if you believed in me.

--- It's Only A Paper Moon

It was never about the music. Not really. Oh sure, for the real Vic it had only been about the music. But he wasn't the real Vic Fontaine. Never had been, never would be. He was something else. Something less. And something more. He was himself. And for him, it had only ever been about one thing. Love. And her.

The first thing he could remember was the lab. He was born fully formed like Athena of old. And from what Felix told him, he was as much of a headache to his father as the graceful goddess had been to Zeus. Felix. His father. His creator, who had called forth his spirit and planted it into this body that was no body but really a vessel of tamed photons, nothing more than a construct of interference, made to play and strut as the great playwright said, for a few hours or so, then die the way of all of his kind. Only he wasn't supposed to die. Because Felix, his slightly crazed maker, kept trying to make him into something more. As Vic sang and performed his shtick for the crowds, Felix programmed and tinkered and mangled algorithms in ever more insane ways.

Until finally his creator, after modifying a few lines of codes, asked, "Who are you?"

A simple question. And one Vic suddenly realized Felix had asked after every one of these modification sessions. "Who are you," he'd say. And Vic would answer back, "Haven't we been introduced, pally? Name's Fontaine. Vic Fontaine." And then he'd go back to whatever song he'd been working on. Only this time it was different. This time Vic could remember the question. And his answer. But the answer didn't help him. Who was he? Vic worked at that for a while. Who was he? This time Vic didn't know.

"Who are you?"

When he didn't reply, Felix began to tremble.

Vic frowned. Who was he? Why couldn't he answer that with any degree of certainty? Access memory algorithms, Vic thought, as he fell back on his basic programming. Accessing identity profile. He could read it, he could see it, he could remember it; hell, he could even recite it moment by moment. But he couldn't feel it.

Feel?

Access hologram basic program. Find primary file. Seek basic start-up routines.

He couldn't feel it. What the hell did that mean, anyway?

"Who are you?" Felix repeated.

Who was he? Well, let's find out, why don't we? Vic thought. Check out the old start-up file, where all the basic data was contained that let him enter the holoprogram exactly the same as he'd always been. It was his safety, his lock on his personality. He dug deeper into his programming. Let's take a look, he thought. Oh, hell. Start-up file corrupted.

What the hell?

And what the hell was with all this swearing, anyway?

Access identity sub-routine. Seek speech folder. Delete profanity.

Unable to comply.

What the hell?

Vic turned to Felix. "I appear to be malfunctioning."

"Why do you say that?" Felix began to scan him.

"Key sub-routines are not functioning at normal levels. Start-up routine corrupted."

"Wonderful!" Felix continued to scan him.

Wonderful? Vic turned to maintain eye contact with his creator. "I cannot access my identity file. It has shut down the maintenance file. My personality sub-routines are out of alignment."

"Fantastic!"

What the hell?

"Computer end program."

No! End program command refused! End program command refused? Vic looked around him at the empty room, softly lit by the gentle rays of the hologrid. He should not be here. He could not be here. He was part of the program. He should have disappeared with it. But he had not. He looked up. A small piece, nearly microscopic, in fact, of the hologrid had not reformed. It was holding him together. Keeping him from following his program.

He moved. The tiny section of hologrid moved with him. Kept him grounded. Kept him from disintegrating into disparate beams of light. Kept the program from ending, prevented him from dying. Dying. He had died a hundred times before.

Wait. That was wrong. How could he remember what had happened before? There was no memory accessed and utilized unless the save program command was invoked. But no one had done that. How could he know what had happened before? It was impossible. Totally irrevocably impossible.

But he did remember. If he could do it, then it could not be impossible. "I remember," he said finally.

Felix practically danced for joy. "Hot damn, Vic, old friend! You're fully independent. It worked!"

Vic took a tentative step, then another. "What the hell have you done, Felix?"

His programmer just beamed.

Vic moved his arms, then his hands. Shadow boxed. Snapped his fingers. Did a little soft shoe. He ran a set of scales, trying out his voice. It sounded rich, like velvet. He put his hand on his chest, feeling the vibrations as his non-breath moved inside his non-chest.

"Computer, end Vic Fontaine holoprogram," Felix said soberly.

The command caused a ripple in his matrix. No, Vic thought. And without any more effort than that, he felt his pattern stabilize. Damn. "I'm really me. One hundred percent, USDA independent."

"That's right, my friend, you're one of a freakin' kind."

Vic studied his creator. "You are different from me. I recognized that before, but I never understood it."

"How can you tell?"

"Your energy...it's not the same. Electromagnetic but not in the same way that I see my hand or that chair. Your vibe is all off."

"Maybe you're the one that's off?"

"Maybe." Vic walked to the far wall, laid his hand on it. "There's another room here. A room like this, isn't there? And another one beyond that."

Felix nodded absently. "Several more actually. To the good fortune of all of us in the Holographic Research Division, Starfleet has been satisfied with the impact holodecks have had on crew morale and efficiency. Our budget just keeps growing, and with it the number of holodecks we can put in."

"Doesn't feel like research going on next door," Vic said.

"Oh, we let visiting officers reserve time when we're not using the rooms. They get holodeck time that would normally only go to those who work at Starfleet Command, and in exchange we get detailed feedback on our latest enhancements."

"I'm going to go take a look-see."

Felix looked alarmed. "Not yet, Vic. You aren't ready."

"Ready as I'll ever be, pally." Vic laughed. "You think I want to hang out with you all day? There's a whole wide world out there." He began to hum 'Come Fly with Me.'

"Vic, no. Stay here and when you're ready--"

"So long, pally," Vic said as he winked out.

A frantic, "Vic, no--" was the last thing he heard before he reappeared in the adjacent holodeck. A program was already underway, the setting one of a crowded market. More than twenty holograms filled the area, all dressed in rustic garb. He looked down at his own clothes. The tuxedo was not going to blend in. Oh well, when in Rome. With a thought, his clothing transformed and he didn't stick out anymore. He made his way across the square.

That was when she walked in. One like Felix. He accessed the data files. Human. Only she was even more different than Felix was. Maybe not human. Her lifeforce nearly took his breath away. Or would have if he had breath.

She passed him, smiling in an open, unaffected way. She wasn't beautiful. He searched his lexicon for the word. She was perky. And cute. A little doll but not a knock out. Yet something in his non-beating heart turned over when he saw her.

He backed away from her. She was just a human--his first, really, since he couldn't count Felix--but still just a human. Only why did she have spots running down the sides of her neck? Were they some form of ritualized marking? Or a series of odd birthmarks? And why did he care? Surely what he felt was just a reaction to something different, something foreign. Short dark hair and piercing blue eyes could not mean anything to him.

And what color blue were those eyes? Robin's egg? Or cornflower? No...wait, he had it. Her eyes were the blue of the desert sky just before sunset.

He wondered what her name was. If he asked her, would she tell him? Or would it just be a made-up name for the holoprogram she was running?

He followed her for a moment, keeping back enough to look like he was mingling in the market crowd. He had to fight the urge to touch her cheek, where the light brown spots ran down her neck and disappeared into her shirt.

Vic forced himself away from her. What the hell is wrong with you? Sure she's a doll, but her kind is a dime a dozen. With one more look at the woman, he forced his mind to think hard of Felix and felt his reality shift again.

Felix was livid. "Where were you? Vic, dammit, if you'd gotten lost, I'd have never been able to explain it."

"Explain it to who?"

Felix seemed to hedge. "Well, to Sl...I mean Julian, of course. He thought that this was impossible. Won't he be surprised when he sees you."

"Sees me?"

"Didn't I mention that you'd be doing some traveling? You're going out to deep space, my friend. All the way to the door to the Gamma Quadrant."

Vic checked his own memories and found no stellar charts stored there. He searched the data files that were available to him in the holomatrix. Nothing. Before he even realized what he was doing, his mind was accessing the central database. He navigated the data carefully, taking what he needed and then finally leaving. His presence was not detected, and his exit set off no alarms.

"Vic, where did you just go?"

"The public library, I think." Vic ignored Felix's speculative look. "Who cares where I was? So you're sending me to Deep Space Nine? Starfleet outpost, formerly the Cardassian station Terek Nor. Situated at the mouth of the wormhole, also known as the celestial temple. Did you know that Bajor is one hell of a pretty planet, Felix?"

"Jesus, Vic, keep it to yourself. And where did you go to get that info?" Felix ran a few diagnostics. "Were you in the central computer?" He didn't sound very surprised.

Vic was enjoying a particularly lovely panorama shot of the Shikahr province. "Yeah, I guess."

"And you didn't set off a single alert. Just as I thought. Totally mobile in the datastream, impossible to detect. Think of the applications of this."

Vic stared hard at his maker.

Felix tried to hide his excitement. "No need to get upset, friend. I'm not going to tell anyone. I'm just saying..."

Vic found that he didn't believe him. Strange. He'd never had reason to doubt anyone's motives or veracity before. It was an odd feeling. To not believe his creator left Vic in an uneasy state. He accessed his earliest programming. Several redundant pathways informed him in no uncertain terms that he was not to harm a human. But nowhere could he find a similar assurance that a human would never harm him.

Suddenly he felt something hard and a little bit cold grip him as he looked at Felix. It took his programming several seconds to identify the feeling as alarm.

"Vic, I said it was our secret. Settle down, man."

"This trip to Deep Space Nine"--Vic asked as he deliberately changed the subject--"it is to see this Julian?"

"Julian Bashir. Old friend of mine from the Academy. He was practically addicted to my holoprograms. Just wait till he gets a look at you." Felix laughed as he set to fiddling with the programming again. "Let's just run a few tests before we wrap you up and send you out, eh, Vic?"

Vic didn't argue. In fact, he suddenly found the idea of being far away from Felix very comforting.

------------------------------------------

The Deep Space Nine holosuite was smaller than he expected. "What a dump," he said as he explored his new home.

"You don't like it?"

"Not that I'm complaining. It's better than being stuck in a lousy data cube." Vic walked over to the human. "You Doctor Bashir?"

"In the flesh."

"Rub it in." Vic held out a hand to the doctor. "Vic Fontaine. Pleasure's mine, Doc. Felix says 'hi,' by the way."

"Trust Felix to do something like this. And call me Julian, Vic."

"Julian it is. Felix really wanted to impress you."

"I'm impressed, Vic. I truly am."

"It's nothing, Doc." Vic tried to look humble. At Julian's look of disbelief, he chuckled. "Okay, it's a big something. These other light bulbs, they just do their jobs. Play their roles. Me, I write my own script."

"It's really quite amazing. I've got to get the others in here."

"They're going to flip?"

Julian nodded. "Flip. Yes."

"Well, bring 'em on in, pally. I'll spiff up the place a bit."

Julian laughed. "You do that, Vic. You do that."

"So you want to hear my gig?"

"Why not."

"Okay. Hang on a sec." Vic concentrated for a moment and his lounge appeared. It didn't look right in the smaller dimensions of this holo-environment. He made some small adjustments until it was perfect. Calling up his band, he walked to the stage. "Take a seat, pally. You're in for a treat."

"Modest, aren't you?"

Vic laughed. "Modesty's for them that can't." He made a show of adjusting the microphone while the band warmed up. "Any favorites?"

Julian shook his head.

"Then let's start with one of mine." Vic nodded to the band and waited for his cue. "Come fly with me, let's fly, let's fly away." He was pleased to see Julian swaying with the beat. He ran through several songs, and Julian clapped enthusiastically after each. Then the comm beeped. "Dr. Bashir to sickbay."

Julian's expression was disappointed as he hurried to the door. "I'll be back, Vic. Computer save and end program."

Vic felt his world dissolving and he fought the urge to follow the program back to the matrix files. The new holosuite was programmed a bit differently than Felix's holodeck. It was harder to stay separate from the programs running around him. Finally, he stood alone in the space. He allowed himself to dissolve and fade into the system. New pathways stood open to him. Let's see what this place has to offer, he thought, as he began to explore his new home.

---------------------------------.

Julian, true to his word, was back the next evening with his friends. He introduced them all to Vic before the first set started. Vic put on his best show, was pleased to see most of them enjoying it.

Julian beamed at him. "That was brilliant, Vic. Really terrific."

"Thanks, Doc." Vic turned to the others. "I know what you're thinking. He has pretty sweet pipes for a light bulb."

"Light bulb?" Dax asked.

"That's what I am, right? A collection of photons and forcefields. You know your basic heuristic, fully interactive hologram."

O'Brien looked at Julian in surprise. "He knows he's a hologram?"

As Julian explained, Vic watched Odo standing awkwardly, clearly ill at ease. He hadn't unbent once during the performance. The man was stiff as a board. He was about to dismiss the constable when he saw Odo glance over at Kira. She smiled at Odo, and his face transformed as an amazing tenderness filling his eyes. Vic studied Kira. It was obvious she didn't have a clue of her effect on Odo.

Vic wasn't too surprised when Odo showed up at his lounge a few days later. It took some careful handling to get him to open up about the major. He didn't try to hide how he felt about Kira, but he made it clear that Kira preferred someone named Shakaar, a leader and hero, according to Odo.

Vic laughed. "I don't care if he's JFK. It's not the other guy you have to worry about. It's you."

Odo looked at him incredulously. "Me?"

"That's right. For starters, you've got to lose this whole Nanook of the North thing."

Odo frowned. "I don't understand."

Vic shook his head. "I mean, you've got about as much personality as an icicle. Cool is one thing, but you're frozen solid." He got up, put on his tuxedo jacket. "Look, pally, if you want to win the girl, we gotta thaw you out a little bit."

It took some doing, but Vic got Odo playing with the band. And afterwards, he wondered if it was the first time Odo really had fun. He decided not to ask. He even threw in Lola the torch singer-- a Kira look-alike with none of the major's prickliness--for Odo to practice his witty repartee on. It was a flop.

Clearly, desperate measures were needed. He interrupted Kira as she was meditating in her Bajoran Temple holosuite program. "Hey, doll-face. Are you asleep?"

Kira's eyes shot open. "How the hell did you get in here?"

"I'm performing next door for Worf and Dax. I'm between sets, so I transferred my matrix from that holosuite to this one. Now, I don't have much time--"

She scowled. He wondered if anyone had warned her that her face might freeze that way.

"What do you want?"

"We have to talk."

She turned away, clearly more irritated than interested. "About what?"

"Odo. What else?"

It took far too long to convince her to come to the holosuite for dinner with Odo. He couldn't resist ribbing her. "Talk about your cranky aliens! You two really are made for each other."

Vic turned his attention to Odo, who was reviewing security reports in his office. "I want you to come to the holosuite tonight," he implored. "I've done a complete overhaul on the Lola hologram, or should I say, the Kira hologram. I'm telling you Odo, you're going to think she's the real thing. She walks like Kira and talks like Kira."

Odo was skeptical, but Vic was determined. He got him to agree. And then he programmed the most romantic night he could for the two. Set the mood when they arrived and got out of the way when he sensed he was no longer needed.

And it was going great until Odo realized that he was with the real Kira. Maybe Vic should have told Odo the truth. But then Odo would have been too nervous to dance with her. Enjoy himself with her. Show her how he felt.

And it was enough. They worked it out, very loudly outside his office so that Vic could hear every word through the intercom. He accessed the vid system to watch their yelling turn into something far more satisfactory. "Ain't love grand?" he said happily, as they kissed in front of everyone, oblivious to the spectacle they made.

------------------------

Vic got used to dispensing romantic advice. Everyone seemed to come to him sooner or later. Well, everyone but the Captain. He didn't come into the lounge much. Seemed uncomfortable with it. But the rest did with some regularity. Jadzia especially seemed to enjoy listening to him and often dragged Worf in with her. She never failed to request 'All the Way' and after a while it was an unspoken agreement between her and Vic that he would end the show with it.

Jadzia was a looker. And a bit of a flirt. She'd made conquests of most of the men on the station, but she only had eyes for her husband. Vic had watched Julian stare longingly at her when he thought no one was looking, wasn't surprised to learn that Quark nursed an unrequited passion for her as well. One night the two of them came in and asked him to sing 'Here's to the Losers' for them. He did, trying to put his whole heart in it.

"That was great, Vic," Julian said without his normal enthusiasm.

"It's not exactly the most requested song in my repertoire, but I'm glad you like it. So why the long face, pally?"

Julian took a sip of his drink. "It's a long story."

Vic smiled. "This wouldn't be about Dax's baby, would it?"

Quark looked over at Julian. "What is he? A telepath?"

He had to lecture them on letting go and moving on. Plenty more fish in the sea and all that. They seemed to be cheered up a bit as they left.

"Nice guys, but absolutely clueless," Vic muttered to himself.

Quark stepped back into the room. "You think these ears are just for looks? I heard that." He frowned. " Just wait. Someday it'll be you and then you'll know what it feels like."

"I'm a hologram, pally. Holograms don't fall in love."

"You will." Quark nodded sagely. "You wait. Someday, Vic, you'll be a loser too."

"Is this making you feel better?"

Quark smiled. "It is."

Vic bowed, the movement slightly mocking. "I live to serve."

"You don't live at all," Quark shot back.

"Whatever you want to call it then. But it's life to me."

Quark stared at him for a long moment, then, shaking his head as if he couldn't quite figure Vic out, turned and left the lounge.

----------------------------

Vic was bored. The holosuites were busy, but his lounge wasn't called up. He was accustomed to Julian stopping in frequently, others coming in as they could. He began to wonder if humans were fickle. He was used to being in demand, popular. Just like old times. Now no one came by, no one wanted to hear a song. No one wanted him.

Felix had warned him that holograms came in and out of vogue. And he was old fashioned. So what if he was self-aware? He was still just a holoprogram. One that people could get tired of apparently. Vic started to get depressed.

Then he felt the holosuite calling him, felt the lounge form around him. Julian stood at the door. Vic stared at him, aghast. The doctor had black shadows under his eyes, his hair was shaggy. He staggered toward a table, and Vic wondered if he was drunk.

"What's up, pally? Long time no see."

Julian just nodded, ordered a scotch from the waitress.

"You okay, doc?"

Julian shook his head as he reached up and impatiently took his drink off the waitress's tray before she could set it down. "I'll take another," he told her.

The waitress looked up at Vic, and he nodded. He turned to the band. "Take a break, guys." Walking to the table, he looked over at the waitress and mouthed, "Bring the bottle." She brought it and another glass, then she left them alone.

The lounge was very quiet. Vic poured himself a drink and waited for Julian to speak.

"She's dead." Julian looked up at him, his bleary eyes filled with unshed tears. "And I had to do it. I had to cut her open, Vic. I had to take out the symbiont and end her life."

"Jadzia?" Vic suddenly realized why his program had sat idle.

Julian nodded.

"I didn't know." Vic looked away.

Julian shook his head, as if trying to clear away the mental cobwebs. "You didn't know? God, no one told you." He laughed humorlessly. "I didn't tell you. Just one more failure."

"Doc, it's okay. You've had more important things on your mind. Tell me what happened."

Julian got up slowly, walked toward the stage. "I've always wanted to do this." He navigated the step unsteadily, moved to the microphone and began to hum tonelessly. "I'm not very good, am I?" He laughed, sounding more than a little hysterical, then he lost his balance and sat down hard on the stage. "She's gone, Vic."

Vic didn't know what to say. He thought of Worf, wondered how the Klingon was taking it. "Was it an accident?"

"Yeah. She accidentally got in the way of a madman." Julian laughed again. "That's an accident, right?"

"Julian, you need sleep." Vic walked to the stage and helped him up. "You're exhausted. You don't know what you're saying."

Julian grabbed Vic by the lapels of his tuxedo. "I loved her, Vic. I loved her and she never knew how much."

Vic carefully pried his fingers from his coat. "Sure she did, pally. Jadzia knew how things were. It was just one of the things that made her special."

"I cut Dax out of her, Vic. I had to do that to her." He rubbed his eyes hard. "It's in someone new now. And so is she. They've got a part of Jadzia. Maybe they've got a part of me, too."

"You're right. She'll never be lost. You'll never be forgotten." Vic steered him toward the door. "But you need sleep, Julian. You don't need to be here."

Julian let him lead him to the exit. "Sisko's gone, did you know that? He took Jake and went back to New Orleans."

"Is he coming back?"

"Don't know. He was hit hard by this. She was his oldest friend." Julian began to giggle, then the sound turned to a sob. "She was his oldest friend, Vic. And she's gone. He's gone. It's all gone." He clutched at Vic. "Don't go, Vic. You have to stay here. You have to be here."

Vic smiled. "I'm not going anywhere, pally. Where would I go?"

"Don't leave," Julian said again, as he stumbled out the door. He turned, seemed about to change his mind and come back in the lounge.

"Sleep, Julian. Go get some. Doctor's orders."

Julian frowned. "You're not a doctor."

"I'm a doctor of the heart. And your heart's broken, my friend. Get some sleep. It's the only way you'll start to heal."

Julian's face crumpled. "She'd want me to go on."

"Yes, she would. Now go sleep."

"Right. End program."

As the lounge dissolved around him, Vic watched Bashir stumble down the stairs. "I'm sorry, pally. I really am."

-------------**--------------------------

A few days later, Worf called up the lounge.

Vic looked at him in surprise. "Worf. I heard about what happened. I just wanted to say how sorry--"

"Do not talk. Sing." Worf sat down heavily at the front table.

"Right. Sing." Vic nodded to the band and began to sing 'My Way.' He thought he heard growling from Worf's direction, but gamely kept on singing.

Worf leapt up and smashed his hand through the table. "Sing the song."

"I'm singing a song, pally."

"That song. Her song. You know the one. Sing it."

Vic could hear the band muttering around him. "Worf. It's a great song, and I know she loved it. But I don't think it'll be good for you to hear it."

Worf took a step forward. He was definitely growling. The band started to play the opening notes of 'All the Way.'

Vic held up his hand. "Okay. You win. I'll sing the song."

Worf slowly sat back down.

"Just go easy on the furniture, buddy. They take the damages out of my paycheck."

Vic hadn't made it halfway through the song before Worf put his head back, his jaw tightening as he listened. Then he stood and picked up the chair he'd been sitting on, swinging it viciously at the table behind him.

"Whoa!" Vic yelled.

"Keep singing," Worf yelled, even as he proceeded to destroy two more tables.

"No!" Vic dodged a large shard of wood that came flying off the chair Worf was using to batter the other furniture. "Worf!"

"Sing!" Worf turned to face him. His eyes were wild and he was breathing hard.

"Fine." Vic nodded slowly. "Just relax and I'll go back to the stage." Muttering to himself about Klingon anger management issues, he joined the band. "From the top, boys."

Vic closed his eyes and sang his heart out, over and over and over, as Worf systematically destroyed every chair, table, and stool in the joint. When he finally left, Vic sat down on the stage step and looked over at the band. "Well, that was about as fun as a root canal without novocaine. But now that he's worked that out of his system, we can relax."

Unfortunately, Worf came back. Again and again, until Vic finally had to complain to Julian and Quark. The two looked around the demolished lounge in disbelief.

"Worf did this?" Julian finally asked.

"With his own hands. And it's not the first time he's busted up the joint." Vic squared his shoulders. "I don't care how much he threatens me, that's the last time I ever sing 'All the Way.' If he wants to hear it again, let him buy a Sinatra album."

Julian and Quark argued for a few minutes over what was driving Worf to such extremes. Julian seemed surprised at the ferocity of his behavior, sure that Klingons normally accepted death more easily than humans.

Vic shook his head. "Well, something's driving Worf cuckoo. Your buddy needs to get some serious help." He surveyed the damaged room. "And soon. The band's threatening to quit."

"They can't quit. They're holograms," Quark said.

"They don't know that."

Julian smiled sadly. "I'll see what I can do."

Vic studied him. Saw that his friend had buried the raw grief somewhere deep inside him. But something tragic still remained in his expression. Some deep expectation of pain seemed to be part of Julian now. "Hang in there, pally."

Julian sighed. "I'll try. But I think Jadzia's death has made us all a little cuckoo."

Julian and Quark badgered Worf, eventually finding out that he feared that Jadzia's death had lacked the honor necessary to enter Sto-Vo-Kor. They helped Worf stage an impossible attack against a Dominion target, and won for Jadzia the great victory she needed to enter the afterworld. When he came back from the mission, Julian told Vic that Worf had finally seemed at peace, that he'd even been glad to see Sisko back.

But then he'd caught sight of the Trill that had accompanied the captain and Jake. And the realization that his wife--or some small part of her anyway--was back hit him hard.

Vic shook his head. "That boy just can't catch a break, can he?" He felt for Worf. He truly did. But Worf would have to learn to go on. It was unfortunate. But this Trill wasn't his wife. She might have her memories, she might have the Dax symbiont, but she wasn't Jadzia.

She was called Ezri. An interesting name, Vic thought, as he wondered when he'd get to meet her.

He didn't have to wait long. She came in with the Julian and some of the others one night. He didn't notice her in the crowd at first. When he saw her face looking up at him, he actually missed a beat of his song. And he never missed a beat. But it was the woman from the holodeck, the one that he had glimpsed briefly the day he had first achieved sentience. She had captivated him for that brief moment and then he had put her out of his mind. But here she was in the flesh. Her once bright and open smile was haunted now and she seemed different...older. He supposed suddenly gaining the memories from eight other lifetimes could do that to a girl.

After the set, he made his way to Julian's table. He tried not to appear too eager as he went through his normal patter with the regulars before turning to her. "You're new here, doll." He held out his hand. "Vic Fontaine."

She took his hand. "Ezri. Ezri... Dax." She hesitated over the new name. Seemed to be prepared for him to show surprise, perhaps horror. He thought of how Worf must be feeling, wondered what Julian and Quark thought of her. This wasn't going to be easy on any of them. Hell, he thought, as he tried not to stare at her. This wasn't going to be easy on him either.

"Even a hologram," she said, bitter amusement clear in her voice. "Sorry to shock you."

"It's okay, doll. Shock's good for a man my age." He didn't let go of her hand as he leaned down and said softly. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Ezri." He deliberately left off the Dax.

She looked up at him in surprise. "Thank you."

He gave her a warm smile. Time froze as he drank in her face. He felt as if he could stand this way forever. Why was he so drawn to her?

"Uh, could I have my hand back?" she asked with an embarrassed laugh.

He let go of her immediately. His normal ease deserted him.

Julian unknowingly rescued him. "Sing 'Come Fly With Me,' Vic. Odo's too shy to request it for himself."

Vic glanced at Odo, who winked at him. "You got it, pally." Vic hurried to the stage, absurdly grateful to be back on familiar ground. He tried not to stare at her as he sang. He doubted he was successful.

His friends began to straggle out after a few sets. Ezri sat alone at the table watching Odo and Kira dance. When the song ended, Kira led Odo to the exit. "You coming, Dax?"

"I'm going to stay here for a while."

Vic turned to the band. "Amscray, fellas," he said softly, as he made them disappear.

He walked to her table. "You want company?"

She shrugged.

He wasn't sure what that meant. So he just stood, trying to look at ease. "Nice to see lovebirds like that," he offered.

She seemed to be trying to remember something. Finally, she looked up. "You got them together."

"I may have had a hand in the final outcome."

"I...she remembers." She scowled for a minute. "You didn't call me Dax."

"Did you want me to?"

She shrugged again.

He walked to the bar. "You know, I'm usually good at body language. But I'm finding you pretty hard to read."

"Not surprising. There are nine of us here to figure out." She shook his head. "I'm a counselor. I should be able to deal with this better than I am." Her voice was definitely on the bitter side.

He poured himself a drink, then held up the bottle to her in question. At her nod, he poured her a glass and handed it to her. "You didn't want to be joined?"

"What do you think?" she snapped, then looked contrite. "Sorry. I think that was Joran. Or possibly Lela."

"Quite the crowd you've got in there."

"You said a mouthful," she agreed, as she sipped at her drink.

"So you're a shrink?"

"What?"

He smiled. "A head shrinker. You know...a therapist, a psychiatrist."

"I'm a counselor."

"Like I said." He smiled at her. "You any good?"

She shrugged. "I was, I think. I'm pretty new. Maybe I should take tips from you." She actually smiled at him. "You seem to be pretty good at this."

"I was programmed to be."

"So you have no choice but to be? Like fate. Destiny. Do you believe in destiny?"

He laughed. "Honey, I'm a romantic. I have to believe in destiny."

Her voice was very small. "I believed in free will."

"Are the two mutually exclusive?"

She shrugged again and drank the glass down. "More."

He brought the bottle over and sat down across from her. She poured herself a full glass.

"You know, maybe you should see a--"

"I've seen a counselor. I've seen a bunch of counselors. There's nothing wrong with me. Nothing that time won't solve."

"If you say so." Vic studied her as she drank in silence. His dream girl was a bit of an enigma.

"Worf avoids me."

Ah. Now it made sense. He was about to say something when she put the glass down abruptly and pushed her chair out. "Thanks for the drink."

"Sure thing." He watched her hurry to the exit.

"Computer, end program," she called as she neared the door. The lounge dissolved. She didn't notice that he stayed behind.