Title: Broken Mirror 
Author: Silver Rayne 
Email: silver@intrinsic.8k.com 
Pairing: Worf/Mirror Bashir 
Rating: R for violence, m/m sexual situations and NCS (non-

Summary: Worf accidentally enters the Mirror Universe and
runs into Julian Bashir.  He takes out his unresolved
tension towards Doctor Bashir on this other version.

Disclaimer: Worf is owned by Mirror Worf and is the only
character in Star Trek that has outlived his 7 season quota
by jumping onto DS9.  Because he is so popular I have
decided not to charge him for being in my fanfic.  I am not
making any profit off of this unless you count the dishes
that I've made Julian wash in exchange for the lack of
details in the sex scene.  ^_^

Copyright December 2001 -Silver Rayne

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

The endless rambling of Doctor Julian Bashir annoyed Worf
immensely.  He sat there on the biobed, glowering at the
excited human.  Julian was happy that Worf had returned
safely and unharmed.  They all were.  But Worf had no use
for their misguided concern.  He wanted this examination to
be over with so that he could leave.

"Luckily there were enough chroniton particles left over
for your return trip," Julian exclaimed.  "Chief O'Brien
said that if you had stayed there one more day."

And so it went on.

Worf glared at Julian as he bent over a console, examining
the readouts. Still, the young man chattered away.  Seeing
the doctor again after so many days made Worf
uncomfortable.  If any of them - especially Julian -
discovered what had happened.


"I am fine, Doctor.  Continue with your examination.  The
sooner I get this over with, the better."  For you - he
added silently.


10 days ago:

Worf had been on a routine surveillance mission of the
Gamma Quadrant, just outside of the wormhole, and was just
finishing his report when the life support systems began to
malfunction.  He had piloted the runabout back into the
wormhole, re-stabilizing the life support levels as he
traveled at impulse speed.

A flash of light was the only indication that he received
of anything being wrong.  When he exited the wormhole, he
found that the station had been moved a considerable
distance from its last known location.  But before he could
open a communications channel to Deep Space Nine, the
runabout's navigational systems started to malfunction.

The rest blurred by in a haze as Worf was forced to make
an emergency landing on Bajor.  He eased the runabout down
with minimal damage, approving of his exceptional piloting
skills.  It was only after he'd set foot on the planet that
he realized something was terribly wrong.

That was when he came face to face with Julian Bashir.

"Doctor," Worf exclaimed, hiding his shock behind years of
harsh Klingon training.  "What are you doing here?"

"Doctor?"  The young man repeated.  "You must be mistaken.
I'm a Terran. We aren't allowed to become doctors."  He
smiled warmly at Worf, approaching the vessel with mounting
interest.  "Are you a Cardassian?"

Finally, the truth hit Worf.

He was not in his own universe and this was not Doctor
Bashir.  This man had to be no older than eighteen - a mere
child in Worf's eyes.  The human was soft, ignorant, and
far too beautiful to be of any use to anybody.  This mirror
Julian Bashir had long, auburn hair, silky curls bound at
the nape of his neck to trail to his waist in one neat
line.  He wore a brightly patterned shirt, laced up at the
top, and black britches with leather moccasins.  His
mannerisms were timid and delicate as was his sweetly
accented voice and polite curiosity.

At that moment, Worf knew right away that he despised this
young man.

Judging by Julian's age, the accidental trip to the mirror
universe had also managed to take Worf back in time.  The
Captain Bashir that Sisko had described was nothing like
this man.  This was no cold, mean-hearted killer. Not yet

"No.  I am not a Cardassian."  He turned away from the
boy, running a tricorder over the runabout to ascertain the

"A Vulcan?"  Julian peered up into Worf's face, clasping
both hands respectively behind his back.  "Can I be of

Worf growled.  "I am a Klingon and you are in my way."

"Oh, I'm sorry."  Julian backed away, the pleasant smile
never leaving his gentle face.  "Would you like something
to eat?  My cabin is just over the hill."


"I've never seen a Klingon before."

If this alternate universe Bashir continued to aggravate
Worf, he might never see a Klingon again.  And what did he
care about it anyway?  This was not his universe.  Whatever
he chose to do - or not to do - would most likely pollute
the timeline but it had no direct threat to him.  He
couldn't care less about mirror universes or duplicate

"Well now you have.  Go back to wherever you came from."

"You're not very friendly."  Julian pouted, ducking his
head in genuine disappointment.

"I am glad that you see that."  When the boy still refused
to leave, Worf stalked over to him, casting a very large
shadow over them both.  "What is your name?"  He had to at
least make an effort at pretending that he knew less than
he did.  He would have to refrain from losing his temper
until the runabout was fixed and maybe Julian could help
him with that.  Unless this Julian was even more hopeless
than Doctor Bashir at repairing runabouts.

"Julian Bashir."

"Are you a servant boy?"  He demanded to know.

"No."  Again, Julian smiled.  "I live with a nice Bajoran
woman who adopted me when the Terrans became enslaved on
Terok Nor.  She saved my life."  He clasped his hands
together, overcome by emotion.  "She's more like a
grandmother to me than a mother and she's taken care of me
all these years. I really love her."

Worf felt sickened by this proclamation.  He wished that
he had run into an entire fleet of Alliance warships
instead of this cowardice boy.  Upon first sight, Worf had
supposed that Julian was some sort of prostitute - a well-
kept one at that.  But the boy was nothing more than a
sheltered child that would never grow up.  Even though Worf
knew that something in Julian's life would change him for
the worst, he still had trouble believing that this boy
could survive anything that tragic.  He loathed weak humans.

"And where is she now?"

"A few villages over, selling fruits and vegetables at
marketplaces.  We make a lot of money with our crops."

Worf snarled angrily at having to listen to that awful
singsong voice that Julian spoke with.  He had the
strongest urge to throttle the youth into a peaceful,
bloodied state.  Anything to shut him up.  "And you just
sit there looking pretty while that woman does all the
work?"  He shouted in disgust.

Julian visibly jumped, shaken by Worf's viciousness.  "I
look after the crops and tend to the household," he said
meekly.  "It's the only way I can repay Grandma for her
kindness.  She insists on traveling alone because it isn't
safe for a Terran to accompany her."  After Worf had
finished scanning the runabout, fully intent on ignoring
Julian, the boy spoke again.  "The sun will go down soon
and it gets very cold after dark.  Are you sure that you
wouldn't like to accompany me for a hot bath and something
to eat?"

Why not?  He couldn't accomplish anything in this bad
lighting anyhow.  "It looks like I have no choice."

"Great!  I just baked a fresh loaf of bread and there are
plenty of roasted tea leaves to boil."

Bread and tea?

Clenching and unclenching both fists at his sides, Worf
followed Julian over the hill and to his cabin.  He was
really starting to regret abandoning his emergency rations
on board the runabout.  Anything had to taste better than
baked dough and watery bitterness.


Supper tasted horrible.  Worf hated bread and he liked tea
even less.  Those were the only two things that Julian had
an abundance of, not counting the sweet jams and diced
vegetables.  This food was no warrior's meal!

"Would you like some more biscuits, Mr. Worf?"

To Worf, the biscuits were no different from the bread -
plain and unappetizing.  "No. thank you."

Julian placed a few more twigs into the fireplace and sat
beside Worf at the old wooden bench that served as a table.
"Tell me about your planet."

"I'd rather not."

"I'll tell you something about me if you answer one

Who cared about him?  Worf had no desire to hear about how
Julian had led a pampered life as Grandma's little jewel. 
He couldn't possibly stomach anymore of the boy's constant
kindness or generous nature.

"Oh all right!"  He agreed, smiling with his fangs biting
into his lower lip.  This might be fun after all.  "Tell me
something about yourself and I' ll answer one question. 
But no more than one."

Julian leaned closer to Worf and lowered his voice. 
"Grandma is going to bring me back a med kit so that I can
learn how to use modernized tools."

"You told me that Terrans are not allowed to become

"Yes. but I've already healed others that aren't as
fortunate as myself. Grandma says that I have a gift.  One
day, these laws will change and the government's power will
shift.  When it does, I'll be able to practice medicine and
maybe even become a real doctor."

That absurdity brought Worf to his feet, leering at Julian
as if he were a simple bug with no brains.  "Foolish little
boy!  Do you really think that it's that easy!?!  That one
day you'll wake up and things will be different? You're too
soft to accomplish anything.  If any members of the
Alliance were to find you, they'd turn you into a whore,
not a doctor!  Keep dreaming in your fantasy world; there
is no glory to it - no honor."  Worf spat at Julian's feet.
"I despise you."

Julian tried to bolt past Worf but was pushed back into
his chair.  He sniffed miserably, wiping away the tears
that stung his eyes.

"Let me tell you something about Klingons.  In battle,
some of us believe that it's our right to conquer the
spoils of war.  It isn't necessarily honorable but once the
blood is pumping through our veins and the songs are
pounding in our ears, we can't make the distinction."

"Don't touch me."

"Why not?  Are you afraid that what I'm saying might be
true?  How long do you think you'll last down here with
nothing but an old lady to protect you?"  Worf grabbed
Julian by his laced shirt, tearing it open with one sharp
tug.  "We both know what you're going to be used for."

"Stay away!"  Julian kicked out at Worf, darting out of
his grasp only to have his long hair seized.  Worf flung
him onto the floorboards, growling and snarling like a
feral beast.

"You've always had it easy, living a sheltered life. 
Every morning you greet me with your despicable friendly
face.  I hate looking at you, listening to you, watching
you prance around as the toy that you are!"

Crawling away from Worf, scrambling backwards for the
fireplace, Julian's fear multiplied at hearing these
insults.  "W-what are you talking about?  I 've never met
you before. you don't even know me."

"You should have had some respect beaten into you long
ago!  Captain Sisko treats you favorably, protecting you
from harm and any mistakes that you deserve to make.  Dax
is attracted to your shallow appearance, as effeminate as
it is.  Garak the tailor fawns over you every single
afternoon with his shameless displays of affection."  Worf
drew back his hand and slapped Julian hard, knocking him
clear across the floor.  The smaller human lay where he had
fallen, too stunned to move or even breathe.  "And Chief O'
Brien, all he ever talks about is how wonderful his best
friend Julian is."

"I don't know those people," Julian pleaded, gingerly
touching his lips to feel a trickle of blood on his fingers.

"I've always wanted to have a piece of you, Julian - to
see what I was missing.  To punish you for your smug,
insufferable attitude."

"Why are you describing me like this?"  Julian cried, pure
innocence in his terrified expression.  "I only wanted to
help you.  I don't know why you're saying these things."

Worf was through talking.  He slammed Julian onto his
back, shred the boy's clothing away from his slender body
and just looked.  This was what he had been waiting for. 
He had always wanted an excuse to put Julian in his place,
to teach him humility.  Seeing that this boy was beautiful
and perfect in every way made Worf lust for him more.

"No!  Please don't hurt me!"  Julian screamed, struggling
against Worf's unmatchable strength.

But Worf was too far-gone to hear a word he said.  The
Klingon warrior raked his sharp nails over the perfect
flesh, marking it with bloody scars that wrapped around
Julian's body in vines.  An agonized scream escaped the
young Terran but Worf paid no attention.  He continued to
scratch and bite at Julian, crushing him until the fragile
ribs almost cracked under the impossibly heavy weight. 
Worf alternated between kisses and mutilating soft virginal
flesh, quickly unfastening his pants to plunder Julian's
body in one long thrust.

Julian screamed once more, and then passed out.

Worf spent the next fifteen minutes tearing Julian apart
with his harsh organ, the only lubrication was the young
boy's blood.  Once he was finished, he looked down at the
battered innocence of a boy that would no longer be a
doctor.  Still surging with an unnatural energy, he
abandoned the injured youth to repair the runabout.  He
would need to leave before anyone stumbled upon the mess
that he had created.

Despite the evil deed that Worf had just performed, he
felt good.  Better than he had felt in many years.  His
sexual frustration was gone and so was his need to
brutalize Julian Bashir - the doctor in his own world -
into a destroyed heap of blood and bones.

It took another few hours to fix the runabout thanks to
the energy that Julian's bland food had provided.

Once the vessel was functional again, Worf departed from
the alternate Bajor, leaving Julian to his fate.


"Chief O'Brien did say that you should have been
transported back to our universe within a day, otherwise
the chroniton particles would have dispersed.  But you were
gone for ten days."  Doctor Bashir administered another
hypo-spray into Worf's neck, wondering why his patient's
breathing had quickened.

"What is your point, Doctor?"

"Well. what were you doing during the remainder of the

Clearing his head.  He just couldn't give any more details
because he didn't trust his ability to lie.  "Repairing the

"You mentioned in your report that you landed on Bajor. 
Did you see any of our doubles?"  Julian looked at Worf
with eager curiosity - a very familiar expression.


"Captain Sisko told me that the Julian in that world is
very cruel and seems to hate the world.  Do you think that
he started out that way or ran into some bad luck?"

"I really wouldn't know.  Are you done?"

"One more scan."  Julian began to brood again.  "I wonder
if he grew up the same way as I did."


Julian frowned.

"Tell me something, Doctor; did you ever have long hair?"

This question brought a shy smile to Julian's cheerful
face.  "When I was very young.  My mother thought that it
looked good on me."  He glanced at Worf suspiciously. 
"That's an odd question to ask, wouldn't you agree?"
Neither of them needed to acknowledge the unspoken
accusation that Julian held in the air.  It was too
obvious.  When his superior officer did not respond, Julian
returned his attention to the readouts.  "You saw him, the
other Julian Bashir."  He didn't wait for an answer.  "Why
were you trying to hide it?  I'm hardly offended by the
existence of a sadistic version of myself.  He isn't me,
after all."

Worf grunted.

"Hmm. this is odd.  There's a significant increase in
your. uh. testosterone levels.  It seems to be directly
linked to the presence of chroniton--."  He was cut short
as a large hand clamped onto his forearm and threw him onto
the biobed.

Nobody heard Julian's screams - not for some time.

The End.