This story is based on the series finale, "What You Leave Behind." In general, I enjoyed the ending, but I think there were a lot of loose ends. So I'm (hopefully) fixing one of them - namely, what's up with Worf's memories at the end of this episode?

Of course, characters and places belong to the powers that be at Paramount, Nicole deBoer, Alexander Siddig and Michael Dorn. The episode, "What You Leave Behind," of course belongs to Paramount.

I've been told by many people that this story made them cry. That wasn't my intention, but don't say I didn't warn you!

The quarters are now empty.

Emptied of all material possessions but still full of memories.

I have ended one journey here today and in an hour, I shall begin another one.

I stand in the middle of the bedroom, taking one last look around.

I have already packed my things to send ahead to the Klingon homeworld, keeping only those items I need in the next few days.

Jadzia's things, which until now I had not been able to look at, have been packed also. I have asked that some items be sent to her mother and sister on Trill. Her books and some of artwork I have given to Kasidy Sisko. I think Jadzia would have wanted her old friend, Benjamin, to have these items, and I told Kasidy to keep them safe for the captain's return. She thanked me, showing no sign of the emotion she must be feeling at the moment. I had thought for a moment to tell Kasidy that I understood the emotions running through her. But I held back, knowing that Kasidy is too proud to share her pain, especially with me whom she does not know well.

And better than anyone, I understand the true, hollow nature of words. That words meant to comfort often wound so deeply in their cold, sterility.

I left her, thinking that she at least has the comfort of a coming child; a child who will give her focus in the days to come.

I have given Jadzia's clothing to Kira. Despite the differences in their heights, Kira assures me that she will alter the clothing to fit her. It does not matter to me; I just do not want to throw these things away.

Jadzia did not own much jewelry - and what I will not keep - I will give to Ezri. It seems only fair that Ezri be the one to take these pieces; I know she will treasure them dearly.

Of Jadzia's things, I have only kept a few things. One is a mek'leth, the I had given her shortly after our marriage. I remember drawing the blade across her palm and then pressing the sharp edge into my own hand. I can still feel the dampness of our blood mingling.

I have also kept the ring I gave her after our engagement. It is a thin band of platinum, crowned with a large diamond and surrounded with a cluster of violet-hued iridium. The last item I have chosen to keep is her barrette, a carved piece of silver engraved on the clasp side with our initials. She had bought that barrette during our sojourn on Gaia and it was during that time she had made up her mind to marry me.

The last item I pack into my bag is our wedding portrait. It is one of the few pictures we have together and the one I favor the most. I had considered leaving the pictures behind but I could no sooner do that than rip out my own heart.

I pick up my pack and leave the quarters, the doors closing behind me with a gentle thud. I stand there for a moment, trying to remember where I am going from here.

I have, for the better part of a year, been lost.

Lost without Jadzia, lost with Jadzia. It is all the same. Sometimes I long desperately to be with her, to take my own life to be able to walk past the gates of Sto'Vo'Kor and into her arms.

Other times, I am angry, angry that she could have left me so soon. I still think back to that mission, just three months after her death. I had argued with Martok to allow that old warrior, Kor, another chance. And defying Martok, I had commissioner Kor as an officer aboard the Rotarran. During a critical moment, I had come up with a plan, a plan that would surely be suicidal. And I had not cared. For in death, I would be reunited with Jadzia. But Kor himself made the ultimate sacrifice and I sometimes think he and Jadzia must be together, laughing over old times and hopefully, saving some bloodwine for me. One day, I know, we shall be sitting at the table together, telling old stories and savoring the company of good friends.

"Worf."

I turn at the familiar voice and immediately, I soften. Ezri. Few women have ever had a hold on me and while I do not love Ezri, I have a spot forever in my heart for her.

"I thought we could walk to the airlock together," she says hesitantly. "Talk, maybe."

"I would like that," I answer. She links her arm in mine, much in the same fashion as Jadzia once did. Once again, I try not to think of the similarities between them; it would not be fair to the living.

"I will miss you," Ezri says now.

"You have the doctor now," I tell her, a trace of irony in my voice. After all these years, it is the doctor who has won. The doctor who has Ezri's heart. I feel no jealousy though, for Ezri truly loves him and he loves her. I only hope the he feels for her half as much as I did for Jadzia; Ezri deserves at least that much.

"That still doesn't change the fact that I will miss you."

"And I you."

We walk in silence. Ezri's hand tightens around my forearm. I stop walking and look down at her.

"You're not leaving because of me, are you?" she asks anxiously.

"No."

"And it's not because of Julian, is it?"

"No."

"You're sure?"

"I am sure."

We resume walking. Ezri loosens her grip and I sense she has relaxed. Somehow, she craves my approval and I hope one day that she will come into her own, blossom into the person she should be.

"Are you nervous?" she asks.

"Me? No!" I laugh. "A Klingon warrior is never nervous."

"You're lying. I can tell."

"You are right, I am lying."

Ezri giggles. I think for a moment, Jadzia never giggled. Again, I push the thought out of my head. Ezri releases my arm as she sees Julian approaching. Suddenly, her brow furrows and I realize that she is still unsure of the doctor.

"Hello Worf," Julian greets me. He looks at Ezri and I am reassured by the look in his eyes. He will love and care for her always. This I can tell immediately. "Ready to leave?"

"Yes," I tell him. "It is time to go."

I say those words, I realize that in more ways than one, I am ready to go. Ready to let go.

"Do you need anything?" Julian asks.

"Only your good wishes," I answer. Julian looks surprised. He makes an odd expression and then he nods.

"You have them," Julian says softly. "You will have them always. Q'apla."

His accent is off and he looks uncomfortable uttering the word, but I feel a sudden rush of emotion for the doctor. I think I will miss even Julian Bashir and that realization shocks me. I slap him on the back and he nearly falls over. I immediately apologize as he rights himself.

"It is okay," Julian mumbles.

"We have to hurry," Ezri tells me. "Or you'll be late. Julian, I'll catch up with you later. I'm going to walk Worf to the airlock."

"Of course," Julian nods. He looks at me for a long moment, almost as if he is memorizing my features. I find it to be an odd sort of scrutiny but I do believe the doctor is experiencing what I felt just a moment before: a sense of nostalgia.

Ezri and I board the turbolift. She leans against the wall, her arms across her chest. I see then a delicate silver chain dripping off of her wrist; it is a bracelet which once belonged to Jadzia. I nod. I know this story well. How Jadzia, overwhelmed with the discovery of another host, had spent a few days in quiet retreat on Trill. How when she had emerged from stillness, she had found a small charm, shaped as a music note, in a small general store. Somehow, it had seemed perfect at that moment and she made an impulsive purchase. Later, she added six more charms, each one representing a previous host. Now, as I look at the bracelet on Ezri's wrist, I realize that the eighth charm must now be added. Ezri looks at me in patient understanding.

"I was going to add the charm," she told me. "I just haven't yet..."

"It is all right."

Jadzia had rarely worn the bracelet but sometimes, I had seen her look at the bracelet and her face would take on a faraway, cloudy look. During those times, I knew she had gone somewhere I could not follow.

I had never truly understood the concept of joining and it's only now, with Ezri standing here in front me, that I think of how much I have lost - and how much I have gained.

I finger the delicate chain lightly. The filigree casts a slight shadow on the wall. I take a deep breath.

"Hey," Ezri says. "Where did you go?"

I smile, "I am thinking."

"About…?"

"Jadzia."

"I should have known. You had that expression on your face."

"What expression?"

"The one you wear when you think of her. In fact, I remember that expression quite well from before… when it wasn't quite so sad," Ezri says.

"I do not want to leave you," I tell her honestly. "I do not want to say good-bye again."

"But you are not," she says. "You are starting anew, Worf."

"Perhaps… but it feels wrong."

"No, that is only your doubt, Worf. This is the opportunity you have wanted all of your life. Please do not doubt that."

"I do not doubt my abilities."

"You will make a great ambassador," Ezri says softly. She reaches up and touches my cheeks lightly. Then she puts both palms on my face and I lower my head to her. I brush my lips softly against her forehead and for a moment, she melts into my embrace. We stand there for a second and then I pull away.

"I will keep in touch," I tell her.

"Do not make promises you won't keep."

"This is one I intend to keep. Do not doubt my word, Ezri."

I stare into her eyes and I can see that she still cares for me. There is a bond between us, one that will never be broken.

"And I shall be back," I say loudly. People stop and stare. I almost laugh; these fools thought they be rid of me? Ezri grins though and links her arm back in with mine.

"Quark will miss you," she says. "No really, he will."

"You're lying."

"Okay, so I am. But he did say something to that effect yesterday after you left Vic's."

I make a face, "I will not miss that singing hologram."

"You enjoyed it," Ezri says. "You always loved going there with Jadzia. You cannot lie to me, Worf."

I sigh. I remember long evenings, quiet and romantic, dancing with Jadzia in my arms. I am not a good dancer, but with Jadzia, it never seemed to matter. We would simply wrap our arms around each other and sway gently to the music, with Vic's rich voice wafting lightly through the room.

But that was another time, a time I cannot go back to, however much I long to. I must now reconcile myself to that truth, a truth undeniable.

"That is in the past," I tell Ezri. "It is all in the past."

Ezri's face takes on an expression I have never seen before. It's almost as if she is confused but glad at the same time.

"You're letting go," she says in awe.

"Letting go?" I ask.

"Yes. You're letting Jadzia go."

I stand there for a moment, letting her words sink in. She is right. I still love Jadzia and I always will. But when I leave Deep Space Nine, I will be leaving more than the physical station; I will leave Jadzia.

There is a painful certainty in that realization but it is one I must accept.

"Are you all right with that?" Ezri asks.

"Yes," I tell her. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. Somehow, I can't even summon a vision of Jadzia in my mind. I cannot smell her perfume or feel the length of her hair between my fingers. I can barely remember the embrace of her skin upon mine or the soft pressure of her lips against mine.

"Is it wrong?" I ask suddenly. I am afraid now. Afraid that I have let Jadzia go so much that I can barely remember what she looks like now. I immediately reach for my bag for our wedding picture but Ezri's soft touch stops me.

'No," she says. "You have a life to live, Worf. Live it."

She stands on her toes and kisses me on the cheek, "Live your life, Worf. It's what Jadzia would want for you."

With that, she squeezes my hand and walks away. I stand there watching her slight figure disappear in the crowd.

I feel a tightening in my throat. I take a deep breath and swallow hard. Ezri is gone. Gone to Julian and I must continue my journey alone.

Alone once again.

Martok approaches and he slaps me on the back.

"Ready?" he asks.

"In a minute," I tell him. I want to take one last look around. He nods and disappears onto the ship. I stand there, surveying the familiar structure that I called home. Somehow, the once cold and angular Cardassian architecture has taken on a new meaning for me: warm and comforting.

Truly home.

In the crowds, I see familiar, friendly faces. And for the first time in months, I see smiles. My eyes drift upward to the upper deck and I see Ezri there, smiling down at me.

My mind suddenly fills with images, memories of what my life on Deep Space Nine were like. I remember my first meeting with Sisko, a time in the holosuite and more recently, an encounter with Ezri. I do not think of Jadzia because for the first time, I have been able to push Jadzia to a part of my heart where her absence does not hurt so much.

I lift my hand to wave at Ezri and she flutters a few fingers at me. I turn and walk through the airlock.

My journey, it seems, has begun once again.

~The End~

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