Love On A Battlefield
The runabout had been shot down behind enemy lines, which is bad enough to start with, except that right now she can think of at least half a dozen perferable locations where she would rather be. Instead, she and Worf are roaming around in the backyard of the Dominion.
Oh, she can rationalize it all she wants, the fact remains that in a rare error in calculation their shield generators were not properly configured to withstand a direct hit from the Jem' hadar scout.
Dax, no matter which host the symbiont inhabits, realizes she's being something of a perfectionist, but she prides herself on her precision.
Jadzia stomps the heels of her boots on the hard surface of the trail, and it curses in Klingon, something her new husband and mate would appreciate, if he were around to hear it. Where the deuece did he get to? Scouting for a better trail, it's like he thinks I can't take care of myself. Endearing but ultimately rather irritating."
Across the way, at least 3 meters from her present position seated on a boulder, the underbrush and the giant fern-like plants rustle with sudden movement.
Jadzia takes her attention of her rambling thoughts and her sore feet, and snatches her phaser from its holster. Instincts, training, and experience take over, Jadzia eyes narrow as she thumbs the firing control on the weapon. "How tough can these Jem' Hadar be?"
A deep grumbling voice, even on his best days when he's happy and content.
"Worf, this isn't funny." Jadzia realizes that she's hard pressed to suppress her laughter. She feels that if she did the laughter will be loud and rather deterimental to keep a straight face.
Worf stalks out of the bushes, the freshly killed carcass of some native wild animal slung across his wide shoulders. Jadiza is no stranger to death, but somehow the whole rather primitive ascept of a male providing dinner for his mate strikes her as being unecessary and out of date. "You didn't have to go hunt and gather, Worf," Jadzia winked, at least a little of the earlier tension ebbing away as she allows her rigid posture to relax and holsters her weapon again. "We have field rations."
"A true warrior does not subsist on field rations," Worf gripes, and sits down beside her to clean his catch.
"Did anyone ever tell you that if you don't crack a smile once in while, your face might freeze like that." Jadzia smiles, to take the sting out of her last remark.
"You did not seem to mind this face of mine earlier." Worf mutters.
"That's not the point, and you know it" Dax shuffles her feet on the ground and shifts around for a more comfortable perch on the boulder. "We got our signals crossed."
"There is a time for levity and a time to be serious," Worf muttered. "I do not wish to offend you, Dax, but lately you do not seem to know the difference."
"That settles it, I'm eating field rations," Dax stated, and turned her back to Worf listening all the while for a response; instead Worf finished cleaning his dinner, gathered up dry wood for tinder for a fire and lit it with a blast from his phaser. "O'Brien mentioned once an old Earth game of criss crossing 'x's and o's. I believe it is called tic tac toe." Odd name."
"I know the difference, Worf." Jadzia whispered, "Sometimes I just wish you did." Jadzia stared at Worf, the deep brown eyes serious yet kind. "Okay, okay. Sorry about my temper earlier. Oh, by the way, the battery on one of our phaser rifles is dead."
"One crisis at a time. Do you want something to eat?" Worf asked, holding up dinner by a leg, his brow furrowing and his eyes crinkling around the edges. "This is not getting any lighter, you know."
Jadzia laughed again and accepted the dinner and the peace offering.