"Bad Medicine"

Miles O'Brien groggily opened his eyes, wincing as a wave of dizziness washed over him. He lay in bed, trying to shake off the feeling of exhaustion that seemed to be suffocating him. He had been fine the night before, or so he thought, but now his body felt like it had been run over by a targ. He tentatively reached for his comm badge, hoping that it wasn't too early for his shift to start. As he reached for the badge, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror on his dresser. His eyes looked sunken, his skin pale, and his hair was disheveled. He winced, realizing that he didn't look like himself at all. Miles slowly got out of bed and staggered to the bathroom, trying to splash some water on his face to wake himself up. But as he looked in the mirror, he knew that he wasn't fooling anyone. He was sick. He quickly got dressed, trying to shake off the feeling of malaise that had taken over his body. He needed to get to work, no matter how he felt. He couldn't let his crew down, especially not on a day like today. As he made his way to Ops, he ran into Julian Bashir, who was sipping on a cup of coffee and checking his PADD. "Morning, Miles," Julian said, eyeing him suspiciously. "You look like you've been up all night." Miles tried to brush it off, but Julian wasn't having it. "Come on, Miles, what's wrong?" he asked, his eyes narrowing. Miles hesitated, not wanting to admit that he wasn't feeling well. But Julian was no fool. He had seen Miles at his worst, and he knew when something was off. "I'm fine," Miles insisted, trying to sound convincing. But Julian wasn't buying it. "Miles, you're not even looking at me," he said, his voice firm. "You're usually the first one in Ops in the morning, and now you're stumbling around like a... well, like a Bajoran farmer after a long night of drinking." Miles chuckled, trying to deflect Julian's concern. "I'm just a little... tired, that's all." Julian raised an eyebrow. "Tired? You're not even tired, you're... ill. Trust me, I can see it." Miles sighed, realizing that he wasn't fooling Julian. "Okay, fine," he said, throwing up his hands. "I'm not feeling well. But I've got to get to work." Julian shook his head. "No, you don't," he said firmly. "You need to take it easy today. I'll cover for you." Miles protested, but Julian was insistent. "You can't just push through this, Miles. You'll infect the whole crew. Take the day off, and I'll bring you some meds." Miles hesitated, but eventually relented. He trudged back to his quarters, feeling miserable. The rest of the day passed in a blur for Miles, as he tried to shake off the feeling of sickness that had taken over his body. But as the hours ticked by, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was getting worse. As the day drew to a close, Julian made his way to Miles' quarters, concerned about his friend's well-being. He knocked on the door, and when Miles didn't respond, he let himself in. Miles was lying in bed, barely awake, his body feverish and shaking. Julian quickly assessed the situation and sprang into action. "I'm taking care of you today, Miles," he said firmly, as he began to prepare a series of medications and treatments. Miles tried to protest, but Julian was having none of it. He quickly got to work, nursing Miles back to health with a fierce determination. As the evening drew to a close, Julian sat beside Miles, watching him sleep fitfully. He smiled to himself, happy to be able to take care of his friend. And as he looked at Miles, he knew that he would do everything in his power to get him back on his feet.