Don't Think
by Catherine Henke

Julian's hands moved mechanically, his mind numb. He didn't look at Sisko at the other end. 'Fold, straighten, crease. Fold, straighten, crease,' he chanted. 'Don't think. Don't think. Just fold, straighten, crease.'

'Don't think about that last smile or kiss. Just fold, straighten, crease.'
'Don't think about the fact that you never got to say goodbye. Just fold, straighten, crease.'
'Don't think about missed opportunities: they died long before she did. Just fold, straighten, crease.'
'Don't think about the times you'll never share again. Just fold, straighten, crease.
'Don't think about the endless conversations, the companionship she gave you, the friendship you shared with her. Just fold, straighten, crease.'
'Don't think about the fact that the only person who ever truly understood you was the victim of a senseless murder. Just fold, straighten, crease.'
'Don't think about the fact that there was nothing you could have done for her, even with all your training and genetically enhanced talents. Just fold, straighten, crease.'
'Don't think about the what if's or why's. Just fold, straighten, crease.'
'And don't ever, ever think about the love you had for her. Just fold, straighten, crease.'

Julian Bashir looked up at Sisko, his hands finishing the last motion of tucking the corner of the Federation flag into the precise triangle. Tears flowed shamelessly down Bashir's cheeks as Sisko accepted the flag. Julian stepped back, chin high, tears flowing and saluted perfunctorily. Sisko returned the salute and Julian and stepped back next to O'Brien, not noticing or caring what else happened, casting his eyes downward onto the sleek black coffin that held the body of his best friend and the one woman who could light up a room with just a smile. 'Don't think.'

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