Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim to own any of the following characters, places, or events.

Author's Note: A clip from the makings of a story I never finished, and probably never will. Complete AU from 6.25 "The Sound of Her Voice" on.


This Moment
by Dax's10thHost

"This moment contains all moments." ~ C.S. Lewis, The Great Divorce

Warm knuckles kissed her cheek, and she leaned into the touch. Jadzia moaned softly, pain assaulting every corner of her body. Try as she might, though, she couldn't remember doing anything to become so sore. In fact, she couldn't remember anything.

"Jadzia?"

The voice rumbled like thunder across the Byryn hills, but in a soft, incredibly tender way. As if...

"Worf?" She opened her eyes, and could hardly believe the sight before her. Worf leaned over her, his dark eyes so soft she could have sworn she saw tears swimming across them. As she moved her left hand—the only appendage that seemed willing to cooperate—'she realized that he'd twined his long, rough fingers through hers. His other hand rested comfortably on her flat stomach.

Jadzia's pulse spiked, sending the machine tracking her bio-signs into a squealing frenzy.

She lurched upward, but stopped with a cry as pain stabbed through her body. Self-preservation kicked in, and she sank back to the bed.

"The baby—Worf, what happened to our baby?"

"Shh," Worf soothed, resting a finger to her lips. A shiver ran through her at his touch. "Our baby is fine. Dr. Bashir has her in the next room."

Jadzia's fingers tightened around Worf's palm. "Her? He has...her?"

Worf smiled then, an action most would have called a lip twitch. But Jadzia could see it in his eyes; her mate was beaming.

"Yes."

Tears prickled her eyes, and Jadzia couldn't suppress her happy sob. A daughter! She had a daughter! "But…but how? The last thing I remember…"

The underground prison, the tents and ragged shelters, molded bread, Kira's insistence that Jadzia take her rations…The random selections and processing, the terror of not knowing if they'd outlive the day, the constant fear for the children's safety. Her unborn child's safety…

Jadzia shuddered. The last thing she remembered was curling around her stomach in an attempt to shield her child from the guard's savage beating.

"Worf…they were beating me, and…and I thought…I thought—"

Again, Worf's fingers stilled her lips. "It does not matter. You are safe now—both of you—and all is well."

Jadzia smiled faintly, her eyelids fluttering. But then they jerked wide. "I want to hold her."

Worf smiled with his eyes again, and what could have been a laugh escaped him.

"I was wondering when you'd ask that." The cheerful accent brought her head swinging around, despite the shooting pain.

"Julian!" And…her heart pounded. He was carrying a baby in his arms. Her baby. Her child with Worf. She held out her arms, all soreness forgotten in the warmth coursing through her. Julian smiled broadly and eased his precious bundle into the Trill's battered arms.

And in that first contact, Jadzia Dax knew the joy of motherhood.