1. Chapter 1

**~ Shadowrunner ~**

**By Mijra**

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**Disclaimer**: I do not own Star Trek, its characters or any of its concepts. I just love telling stories. And if you're enjoying yourself while reading this piece of fiction, that's all I could have hoped for.^^

**Summary:**

In the midst of the war with the Dominion, a mysterious ship of unknown origin is coming through the wormhole, the only person on board an alien of humanoid origin that seems to have been in stasis for a very long time. Trying to find out more about the visitor from beyond the wormhole by piecing together the tiny bits of information from the alien ship's log files, the crew of DS9 slowly learns about the tragic events that seem to have taken place more than a hundreds of years in the past. At the same time, the Romulans start to demand a stronger presence on the station as they consider DS9 the key point in the war with the Dominion. While Senator Remak is sent to investigate how far Romulan interests are taken into account on the station, Dr. Julian Bashir has problems all of his own: He can't shake the feeling that he is being watched. Something is lurking in the shadows – or is it just his imagination?

**Note on the timeline**

This story is set in the early days of season 7.

**Note from the author:**

Even if the first few chapters might suggest so, this is not a love story! On the contrary;)

It is also a continuation to my other story "The Darkness Within". It can be read as a standalone but it might leave you with some questions. It also contains a lot of spoilers for TDW.

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**- Prolog -**

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Julian thumped the setting of the phaser to a maximum level and set it gingerly next to him on the bedside table. A cup of lukewarm tee and some biscuits were the leftover of his dinner, sitting half-forgotten on the dining table. He wasn't hungry anyway. Not until this here was over.

With a quick look around he made sure that he was alone.

The silence in his quarters was almost deafening. If he listened hard enough, he could hear the low humming of the station's inertial dampeners. Or the high pitched tone of the life support. But otherwise his quarters were filled with a thick, stifling silence.

He took a deep breath and rubbed his tired eyes.

Then he sat down on his bed, leaning back against the wall, his gaze directed at the many pinprick-seized stars out of the viewport. Waiting. Wondering how on Earth it could have come this far...

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**- Chapter 01 -**

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"_Please, I didn't do anything! I'm innocent. You have to believe me!"_

_The young man's quivering voice reverberated eerily from the dark walls around him. He was tearing desperately at the iron brackets that were securing his hands firmly behind his back. His voice was sore from all the shouting and begging, but still his captor wouldn't show any sign that he had heard – nor listened to – any of his words._

_He felt an icy touch around his neck. The next instant he was hauled forward. Driven by his own momentum he stumbled and sprawled onto the cold stone floor. He cried out when his shoulder hit the ground and the air was knocked from his lungs. He tried to crawl away from the crude light that was blazing down on him from somewhere above. Kicking blindly at the unknown attacker, he struggled to roll onto his belly, his arms too wobbly and shaky to support his full weight._

_Someone caught him by his shoulder, whirling him around. He knew that the time had come. He'd face death. But death was a mercy compared to what would be waiting for him should they ever find out about the data that was securely stowed away in the remotest part of his mind. That he would protect with no less than his life. _

_Gritting his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut, he braced himself for the blow that he expected to come. But instead, heavy hands shook him by his shoulders, forcing him to open his eyes again._

_For a short moment, the blinding flash of light from the ceiling was all he could see. Then a black silhouette edged against the too bright white. He was hauled over, away from the light. But when he lifted his gaze to his tormentor, when he finally saw the looming and towering figure over him, nothing could have prepared him for the shock that coursed through him at the sight he had least of all expected to see. Here of all places. _

_His eyes grew wide with terrible understanding, his lips moving in utter bewilderment. _

"_Father?! Is that you?!"_

* * *

It came as unexpected as a slap in the face.

Stunned and with a sudden bitter taste in his mouth, Julian Bashir stared for several seconds at the few lines at the end of the old and worn page, before he finally willed himself to tear his eyes from the text and shut the book in his hands close with a loud thud. A slightly irritated sigh escaped his lips as he lowered the book and let his head drop heavily back onto the pillow. Well, he definitely hadn't seen this one coming. And it had about catapulted his mood from bored and nearly half-asleep to sour and irritably awake.

Why had he even expected this one piece of Cardassian literature to be any different from all the other countless books he'd borrowed from Garak before. No story had ever had a happy end – well, at least not what _he_ would have called "happy". What was it that made all Cardassian authors feel obliged to follow into the footsteps of their predecessors by writing yet another epic adventure about yet another martyr who ultimately sacrifices not only his family but also his own life for the sake of the Cardassian state. It was like an unwritten rule, and it could be very annoying at times. Every piece he'd read over the last seven years had dealt with death and destruction, with treason and unfulfilled hope. Either the stories had been utterly boring, or they had been written in such exaggeration that it made it hard for non-Cardassians to take the stories seriously. Hadn't it been for Garak's persistent nagging, he wouldn't even have bothered to read this one in the first place. A waste of time, as it had now turned out.

Rubbing his eyes in tired resignation, he rolled over in bed and dumped the book next to him on the bedside table. Tonight he definitely wasn't in any mood for yet another tale of Cardassia's many martyrs. Especially not after the unexpected twist the story had just taken. For a few long seconds, he kept staring absently at the old tome, lost in his thoughts, before he lay back down, pulled the bedcover up to his chin and ordered the computer to turn off the lights. A second later, his quarters were filled with darkness.

"_Father?! Is that you?!"_

Somehow, the line kept bothering him more than he would have liked, gnawing at him, even as he tried to surrender his exhausted body to the sleep he knew he needed desperately.

He'd worked double shifts. Again. There was just so much to do recently, and so little time. In a few days, another medical test for all Starfleet and Bajoran personnel was due and only the preparation took so much time that he hardly came around doing all the far more important things waiting for his attention. One of which was the check-up on Captain Martok and his crew. Not to mention the backlog of paperwork and the reports for Starfleet Medical. Or the conference with Admiral Nathan about his progress in trying to analyze and synthesize the Jem'Hadar drug Ketracel White. He still needed to write a report on his recent findings and hand it in till the end of this week. Better get to grip with that first thing in the morning - before another epidemic might decide to knock on DS9's door to keep him occupied for another two weeks. Or a Jem'Hadar assault. Or before Captain Sisko might change his mind in the eleventh hour and realize that running a restaurant had been far more interesting than running a space station.

Now in hindsight, he still wondered how they'd ever managed to get along without Captain Sisko. It had come utterly unexpected when the captain had suddenly announced some months earlier that he was going back to Earth, turning his back on the station and everyone relying on him. No one had seen it coming. And no one had really been prepared. He couldn't remember a time when Sisko had not been there, guiding them through difficult times, like a tower of strength. Not having him lead them in these dangerous times had been an odd feeling. As if something had suddenly been missing. And after the chaos the collapse of the wormhole had created, this loss had weighed heavily.

He sighed. Not that he could blame him for his decision. Not after everything that had happened.

Whenever he closed his eyes, he could still see Jadzia's dying face before his mind's eye, like a shadow that would be forever edged into his consciousness. Her fragile, lifeless sight on the biobed before him still tore his heart apart, and he still hated his own words on that fateful day when he'd told Sisko and Jadzia's husband that it was over_._ After all those long hours of surgery, it suddenly was the only thing that had been left of the six years they had shared and it had made him feel powerless and angry, and utterly alone. _I was able to save the symbiont… but there's nothing I could do for Jadzia…_ And he knew that some part of him had died along with her that day. It had dashed whatever hope he'd still carried that one day everything would be like before. That one day the war would be over, and everything would just go back to what it had been like before. Before all this. Before the war. Before the chaos their lives had been turned into. Before every one of them had to learn how fragile a human life was. The thought had never even crossed his mind that sooner or later their paths would diverge – the same way as they had once crossed six years ago. That from one second to the other, the life he'd always taken for granted could be taken into a completely unforeseen direction.

_A direction you've never seen coming… a direction you'd never have reckoned with…_

He squeezed his eyes shut, and took a deep breath, rolling onto his side.

No matter how much he tried to convince himself that some part of her was still alive, living on in Dax, he knew he couldn't fool himself. Jadzia Dax, the woman he'd so madly fallen in love with during the first year they had spent together on board the station, was no longer part of this world. Gul Dukat had made sure of that. For some short second back on the day when he had seen Ezri in the airlock, accompanying Captain Sisko back to DS9, it had been like if they all had been granted a second chance. Like if fate had brought them together one more time. But Ezri was not Jadzia. And never would be. He knew that holding on to that tiny smidgen of hope was ridiculous. But somehow he couldn't will himself to let go just yet.

Burying his head beneath his pillow, he groaned. If he could just stop thinking. If all those thoughts would just stop tumbling back and forth through his head. He needed to sleep. Now.

"Captain Sisko to Dr. Bashir."

Torn from his thoughts, Julian reluctantly opened his eyes again.

"Bashir here. Go ahead." Rubbing the sleep from his grainy eyes, he propped himself on his elbows and squinted into the darkness.

"I'm sorry to wake you this late, Doctor, but we need you in the infirmary. You'll have an incoming patient. I'll explain everything else later!" The underlying urgency in the captain's voice all at once drove the last shreds of tiredness, as well as everything else, from his mind.

"I'm on my way! Bashir out."

Shoving the blanket aside, he threw a quick look at the chronometer. _023__0 hours._ Stifling a yawn, Julian grabbed his uniform and boots, wondering what could have happened so suddenly this late in the middle of the night.

* * *

When he entered the infirmary, the nurse of the nightshift was already anxiously waiting for him. No sooner had the doors closed behind his back than Captain Sisko's sonorous voice came once again over intercom. Apart from Nurse Lamara, the room was empty.

"Dr. Bashir, please prepare your team for an incoming patient. Some minutes ago, something came through the wormhole. We don't know what it is or where it comes from. It doesn't correspond with any starship pattern of our database, but wherever it comes from, our scan results show that the life support of the ship is failing. We cannot get a proper scan through the ship's hull but there seems to be one life form on board. It seems to be put in some kind of stasis unit but the power is failing. We'll beam it directly to you into the infirmary. I just contacted Security. They should arrive at any moment now. Are you ready?"

Judging from the captain's strained and commanding tone, there wasn't much time nodded, hastily gathering up his medical tricorder. "Ready as you can be, sir."

"Dax! Activate transporter beam. I want you to get a tractor beam on that ship and bring it in to shuttle port 5A. Make sure we get it in in one piece." The captain's firm voice echoed over intercom. There didn't seem to be a shred of tiredness in it, making Julian wonder if the captain ever slept.

Julian signaled to nurse Lamara to take a step back from the biobed, just as the infirmary's doors parted and Odo's security men came rushing in, their phasers at the ready. Only a few seconds later, a sparkling rain of atoms appeared on the biobed and another moment later the alien life form materialized fully in front of them. He had been prepared for much, but still, despite all his experience, the sight that suddenly lay before his eyes made a cold shiver run down his spine.

The alien was humanoid. Or at least it appeared so. And it looked very much as if it had come right out of an ugly nightmare. Its skin was of a dark, olive complexion, an odd color that must most likely come from an overextended exposure to stasis radiation. Long, lanky black hair was framing a weathered, emotionless face that was covered with little dark, bulging spots that spotted cheeks and forehead, another clear sign that the stasis unit must already have broken down to a level that had no longer been able to completely fend off the natural process of decay. Without a proper medical scan it was hard to tell how much of the alien's dermal structure or its vital organs had already suffered damaged beyond repair. The rest of the alien's slender body was covered in a plain brown gown. Where its hands protruded from the ragged sleeves, the same black, green spots of decay dotted the thick skin. There were no other ornaments, or emblems, or anything that might have given any hint as to the alien's status or rank. He might have been a civilian, or a freighter captain, or a high ranking diplomat. There was no way to tell. But whoever he might have been, he was already more in the world beyond than here.

Pushing his personal feelings aside, Julian's actions were immediately guided by professionalism. Within moments after the transporter effect had left the body and the sparkling rain had faded as quickly as it had begun, he'd already flung open his tricorder and was rushing to its side to run a short medical scan to see how bad the situation really was. The stranger's respiration was too weak and shallow, but at least it was there. It was more than he could have hoped for considering the fact that until moments ago he had been in a dying stasis chamber whose fate he soon would have shared. Taking the hypospray from Nurse Lamara, he quickly injected a mild neural stabilizer into the alien's nervous system. He needed to stabilize its cardiovascular system and prevent the patient from going into shock from the sudden and unprepared release from stasis.

"Get me 30ccs of Edaborin!" he quickly addressed the Bajoran woman next to him before his mind started to race how to salvage this situation. The dermal degeneration was alarmingly high. If it kept proceeding at this rate, it would lead to a failure of all vital organs. He needed to counteract the degeneration. Trying to ignore the stench of death and decay, he worked his way to unfasten the alien's uniform, pulling it open to get a better look at how far the dermal damage went, only dimly aware that the security personal had taken a step back. He couldn't blame them. Even without a look at his tricorder, he knew that he was most probably fighting a battle he couldn't win. Grimacing, he pushed the thoughts out of his mind. He wouldn't let him die. Not this time.

"Lamara, help me get him ready for surgery!" Julian called out as he set about pulling the alien's arms free. The young Bajoran woman looked for a moment as if she was about to throw up, but to her credit, she immediately started to move, quickly beginning to make the necessary preparations.

When he had worked one arm free, he involuntarily paused. Uncovered under the sturdy brown gown, intricate, black lines were snaking their way around the alien's forearm, running from the heel of its hand to the elbow joint. It looked like some kind of primitive, black tattoo. And a very crude one at that. The lines were shaky and unsteady, as if someone had done them in quite a hurry. Examining them closer, he involuntarily felt his stomach turn. The wound was old. Very old indeed. But there was no mistaking the inefficiency and dermal damage it had left. The lines had been traced with a blunt object, only sharp enough to damage the skin far enough to let the black liquid sicker into it. By the mere look of it the procedure must have been more than painful. Swallowing hard at the thought of such brutality, he hurried to get the other arm free. Here too, the same plain lines were adorning the alien's forearm. He studied the strange patterns for several more seconds, before some inner voice suddenly reminded him that he needed to hurry. Tearing his gaze from the ghastly sight, his eyes searched for his nurse.

"Everything's ready, Doctor."

He didn't bother to acknowledge her words when he set about donning his own surgical gown.

* * *

"Do we know where it came from?"

Captain Sisko was slowly pacing OPS, a cup of steaming black coffee in one hand, the other absently on his chin. It really was an awful late, or early hour and beside the few nightshift personnel, only Dax was keeping him company. Taking a sip of the hot brown liquid, he turned a questioning brow at his old friend.

The young Trill at science shook her head. "I ran another search in our database. There is no entry that comes even close to the ship design," she frowned as she bit her lower lip, her fingers dancing over the smooth surface of her console. "The only thing I can say for sure is that, wherever it comes from, it's not from the Alpha Quadrant. As far as I can tell it's not even from the Gamma Quadrant – but after all, it's not as if we knew everything about that part of space. It might well be that it comes from a region farther away from the wormhole, perhaps some distant world in the Gamma Quadrant that our explorers have not yet reached."

"Some regions deep within Dominion space?" a rather cool voice suddenly interjected, making Dax startle.

"Senator Cretak? What brings you up here at this late hour?" Captain Sisko raised one brow when he saw the Romulan senator step from the turbolift. He still hadn't got used to having a permanent Romulan presence on board the station. It was one of the things that had suddenly changed when he'd resumed his post as commanding officer on the station some weeks ago after the three months he'd spent with his son and grandfather on Earth. Even though Colonel Kira had already put him in the picture of all the recent events on board the station and the Federation's decision to grant the Romulan Empire a greater influence on DS9 with its center role in the war against the Dominion, he didn't like it. And he doubted that it had come this far had he been here to prevent it in the first place. _But I wasn't, was I?_ he thought with a certain bitterness, watching the senator climb down the few steps to the operational table until her eyes were level with his. She didn't strike him as a woman ready to be put to flight so easily.

"The same as you, Captain," the senator said in a neutral voice, though Sisko could very well sense her underlying irritation about not having been informed of the recent events. She came over and took a seat at the small table, not bothering to wait for the captain's invitation.

Ignoring the ill-boding look on the senator's face, Sisko sighed and turned one more time to Dax. "So if I get you right, that means that we know as good as nothing about the stranger? No hint whatsoever?"

Dax shook her head, a slight look of embarrassment on her young face. "I'm afraid so."

"Any news from Dr. Bashir?" Sisko turned and stared out the view screen. The space around the Bajoran space station seemed to stretch out infinitely, quiet and even peaceful. But he knew that it was a lie.

"Not yet. He's still in surgery..."

Sisko nodded. "I'll have Chief O'Brien run a full diagnostic on the ship first thing in the morning. Perhaps he can find something in the ship's computer logs or get any hint from the ships components…" After another short moment, his brow furrowed into a contemplative frown. "Still no sign of any other ships following the first?"

"Negative," the young Trill replied, studying the readouts just in case she had been missing something. "No sign of pursuit. The ship was on its own."

"Do you think it has something to do with the Dominion? Perhaps a trick of some kind?" Sisko put a hand on his chin.

"I don't think so." Dax shot him a doubting look. "If they were up to something we would already have a full-scale attack at our hands. I don't think that the ship has anything to do with the Dominion. And as far as we know it was running on auto pilot – and for a very long time at that. Life support was at its minimum and according to the hull's damage it would have only been a matter of time until it just broke apart. The power cell was as good as empty. There's little chance that the ship was originally headed this way. Not if you take into account all the magnetic storms and ion currents out there that can take a ship without active navigation as good as everywhere."

"Or perhaps this is exactly what they want us to believe," the Romulan woman pointed out, crossing her arms before her chest. She too was staring out the vast view screen that hung above their heads.

"Like the Horse of Troy?" Ezri suddenly grinned but noticing the Senator's questioning gaze, she shook her head and quickly became serious again. "Just joking."

"I still wouldn't rule out that the Dominion could be behind it," the senator finally said in a tone that didn't hold room for objections. "Not as long as we don't know where it is from or what its intentions are. I expect you to keep me up to date on this matter. We cannot risk any slip-ups. Especially not now."

Sisko ran his hand over his beard, suppressing an inner sigh. He knew what Cretak was alluding to. "When's Senator Remak's ship due to arrive?"

The senator shot him a warning glance. "He's coming on the _Vauthil. _His ship will be here at 1100. If you haven't already prepared for the meeting, I would suggest you do now as long as you still have time." She suddenly severed eye contact and looked yet again out into space, as if she was seeing something in the distance only she could. "Senator Remak is not here to spend his vacation on the station. Please keep that in mind. He's here because he believes in what he is doing and he will leave no sooner than he has achieved what he wants." Her voice held no emotions but Sisko thought he could see a flicker of anger in her eyes. "He's a very powerful man, Captain, more powerful than you might think."

She suddenly turned around to him, her initial reserve suddenly gone. Instead, she almost seemed concerned. "If I were you, I wouldn't let my guard down. Not for one second while he's on board the station…" With those meaningful words, she shortly inclined her head toward both Starfleet officers and headed for the turbolift.

Sisko waited until the lift had carried her out of view before he slowly blew out his breath.

"Is he really that bad?" the young woman at his side grimaced.

Sisko arched one brow. "We'll see." And with another sip of his already lukewarm coffee, he added: "Keep me up to date about our guest and tell Julian to report to me as soon as he has any news." Then he headed for his office, making the young Trill wonder what business could bring a Romulan senator like Remak to come all the way to the station in person. With a worried look at the closing doors of Sisko's office, she couldn't shake the feeling that the captain already knew.

* * *

Hours after the battle had begun, he was standing in the doorway, the medical padd heavy in his hands. The battle was over. But he wasn't sure if he could call it a victory.

For some more seconds, he just stood there, watching the blue shimmer that was enveloping the humanoid life form at the far end of the room, pulsing and breathing like it was some living thing. Through the protecting light, the form below was hardly discernable, like something enveloped and frozen in ice. A decaying body that was more dead than alive, held in the here and now only by the persistent, unyielding grip of technology. A ghost from the past that should have long ago perished and left this world, but was still unable to find rest…

"Hi," a sudden voice tore him from his dark thoughts, making him spin around. Ezri was standing in the doorway, giving him that special smile of hers. Both hand clasped behind her back, she came sauntering over, taking a curious look around.

"I thought I'd check on you and see how our new patient is doing." She smiled when she came closer and threw a quick look into the back part of the infirmary where the pulsing light was everything that was actually visible of their visitor from beyond the wormhole.

Julian shook his head. "He's stable... at least for the moment. I had to put him back into stasis," he said with a frown, repeating what he had already told the captain some time earlier in his report. "The dermal damage was too severe. He's still alive, though only barely. " And with a sigh, he said: "I'm not sure if it is enough, though…"

"I'm sure you did everything you could." Ezri gently squeezed his arm. "Is there anything you could find out?"

"Apart from the fact that he's male and was in his mid-thirties when he was put into stasis? Not much." He called up some information on the padd. "Given the physical data from the scans I performed, the computer was able to reconstruct an image of what he must have once looked like."

He handed her the padd which she took – not without some hesitation. Her eyes studied the picture on the screen.

"He's handsome," she said absently with a slight smile, as if the face reminded her of someone she knew.

"He _was_ handsome," Julian corrected, taking the padd from her with a sad frown. "He's been in stasis for a very long time. Much longer than anyone should ever be exposed to stasis radiation. Believe me, you wouldn't recognize the man if you stood directly in front of him." And for once he was glad that their visitor was safely shrouded away from any curious gazes.

"However, there _is_ something even more disturbing about all this…" he slowly said, beckoning her to follow him. With a few taps he called up another chart on the diagnostic unit's monitor. "Judging from the progress of stasis contamination, he must have been in there for a long time, longer than any stasis unit was ever designed for." He shot her a meaningful gaze.

As Ezri took in the readouts, she couldn't help a shudder.

"I can't say for sure as their stasis technology seems to work slightly different from what we use in the Federation and there's no experimental data about excessive exposure to stasis radiation in our database because theoretically a human body could be preserved in stasis for more than a hundred years without any harming consequences for the patient's body. But given the fact that not only his skin but also his vital organs were so severely damaged even while he was sleeping in a still more or less functional stasis unit I would say he must have spent quite some time in there…"

"You mean, he's been sleeping in there for over a hundred years?"

Julian arched one brow. "Rather try a _few_ hundred years."

Ezri shot him a disbelieving look. "Is this possible?"

"Theoretically," Julian admitted. "But it's never been tested. Stasis technology doesn't date back very long. A few hundred years, that's all. There once was a case when some individuals spent over two hundred years in a stasis chamber but that's the longest period that was ever recorded."

The young Trill frowned. "You mean Khan and his men? To the best of my recollection they had been put into stasis in the late 1990ies and have only been brought back when the Enterprise and Captain Kirk had found them in the late 2200ies."

For a short moment, Julian didn't respond, but then he nodded. "Yes."

While she seemed to mull his words over, Julian led her back toward the front part of the infirmary. "I put him back into stasis to stabilize the neural pathways but it's hard to tell if or when he'll be ready to bring him back to consciousness. Do we already know where he came from?"

The young Trill shook her head. "I wish I knew. There's literally nothing in our database. Benjamin has ordered Chief O'Brien to have a look at the ship this morning. If we can restore power to the ship's database we might find some clue as to where our guest was from - or headed to."

Noticing the tired expression on their chief medical officer's face, she suddenly paused, her lips drawing into a soft smile. "What about breakfast?"

He shot her a quizzical gaze about the sudden change in topics. "Breakfast?" And throwing a quick look at the chronometer he realized that it was almost 0700 hours. So this was why he felt as if he'd been awake all night. Sighing, he rubbed his tired and sore eyes. So that made it a triple shift...

"Sounds great," he smiled back weakly. Even if he didn't like leaving his patient alone, he knew that there wasn't much he could do right now anyway. He'd informed Captain Sisko about the alien's physical condition and had stabilized his patient as good as he could. Now the only thing they could do was wait and hope that the recovery unit could work the miracle that was necessary to bring their visitor back to consciousness. Checking that one of his nurses was taking over, he set the medical padd back on the shelf next to him. "So what do you feel like?"

Ezri grinned mischievously. "A big cup of coffee? With milk, no sugar! Feels like I've been awake for ages."

"No Raktajino?" Julian quipped as they walked out of the infirmary and onto the Promenade. It was still early, with only a few shop owners slowly getting to work to prepare for the day. Seeing them setting about opening their shops for another long day, he couldn't suppress a yawn. How long had he been awake? He shook his head. Too long already. His eyelids felt so heavy, as if they would just close if he didn't continue to make an effort to will them to stay open.

"How is the captain holding up so far?" he asked nonchalantly as they made their way to the Replimat, sauntering along the slowly waking Promenade.

Ezri clasped both hands behind her back, arching one brow. "With an ill-tempered Romulan senator storming up his premises?" She let out a humorous chuckle and her eyes lit up with the spark of mischief he knew only too well from Jadzia. "Quite well, so far. I just hope the senator won't put Benjamin to flight. Not after all the effort it took to bring him back to the station," she laughed, her blue eyes twinkling.

Julian watched her for a long second, before he finally came around and moved over to the replicator. Placing his order, he waited for Ezri to do the same before he took his mug of coffee and carried it over to the next free table. They sat down opposite each other, and for a short moment it felt like back in another lifetime, his mind remembering words being said over the same table with more or less the same person many years ago. He shook his head, banishing the sudden wave of nostalgia from his mind.

"So, how's the counseling going?" Julian asked as much to keep the conversation going as to distract himself.

"Oh," the young woman before him suddenly knit her brow. "The counseling…well… to tell the truth, whenever people knock on my door I'm not really sure who of us needs the counseling. I just can't shake the feeling that they're just coming to see me to…" she grimaced, "you know what I mean, don't you?"

"That they are only coming to see you to see the new Dax with their own eyes?"

"Well, that sort of hits the mark," Ezri said gloomily. But then she shook her head, a sad, almost wistful smile on her lips. "I mean, I know that everyone's just curious how much of their old friend is still in here," she placed her hand on her chest, "but that doesn't make it any easier for me. I know them. Even if they see me for the first time, I haven't forgotten about them. It feels weird. It's like I've known them all along even though I haven't ever met them before. Well, I mean, Ezri has never met them before. They used to know Jadzia but," she suddenly stopped, frowning at him. "I'm not boring you, am I?"

Julian couldn't help a smile. "Oh, no, on the contrary." With a pang of guilt he realized that he was actually enjoying it. Even though he didn't want to admit it, he found this certain insecurity about her quite... _cute_. Shaking his head, he tried to banish the thought out of his mind. They were friends, and that was all. He knew that Ezri was not Jadzia – and that he would seal his fate should he ever even consider asking her out for dinner. Worf, her former husband, would make sure of that.

He shook his head. "Just give them some time. I'm sure it'll pass…" He rubbed again at his eyes, only barely able to suppress a yawn. When he noticed her watching him, he guiltily shook his head and held up both hands. "It's been a long night."

"Yeah, I guess we could both need some sleep," Ezri smiled back. "Why don't you get some rest? I'm sure our guest won't be going anywhere soon."

For a short moment, he just thought about telling her that everything was okay and that he'd snatch some sleep after he'd finished the report for Admiral Nathan. But then, some rational part of him doubted that he would make any real progress in his present condition.

"I guess you're right," he sighed, downing the rest of his coffee and drawing himself up. "So, see you later?"

Ezri held up her hands. "Sure. You know, there's bound to be a staff meeting after Ben met our new senator. I'm not sure if I want to know what business brings a man like Remak to the station, though."

He laughed, biding her farewell.

Instead of heading for his quarters, though, he once more set off in the direction of the infirmary. Even though he was practically falling asleep on his feet, he didn't want to leave without the report for Admiral Nathan. Perhaps he could write at least the introduction…

Lamara seemed to be rather surprised about seeing him again so quickly. With an apologetic smile, he hurried to his office, snatching a free padd from the rack to download the data from his computer interface. While he sat down and waited for the download to complete, his eyes strayed yet again toward the back part of the infirmary where their guest lay still covered under the shimmering blue light in the stasis recovery unit. He couldn't help wondering where he came from. Or what he had been doing in a stasis unit aboard a dying ship with no obvious destination. It was a strange coincidence that the ship would find its way through the wormhole and to DS9, of all places…

The low chirp of the computer brought him back from his thoughts. With a quick tab, he shut down the interface, and hurried to draw himself up. Throwing a last checking look around, he headed for the door, his thoughts already busy with how to start the report about the Ketracel White.

Until a strange sound suddenly made him stop.

Unsure he turned almost in reflex, held back by the sudden noise that had pretty much sounded like something heavy thudding to the floor. He frowned, not sure if it had been just his imagination. Had it come from the back part of the infirmary? A quick look around showed no sign of anything unusual or anything out of place. He let the padd in his hand sink and slowly turned around.

"Lamara?" he called out, with a sudden strange feeling in his stomach. His eyes searched the room for his nurse but she was nowhere in sight. Perhaps she'd gone to check on their patient. He quickly crossed the infirmary, heading for the door to the adjoining room where their guest still lay lifeless and unmoving on the only biobed of the small room.

At the door he stopped and strained to listen once again into the silence. He could have sworn that he'd heard _something_. He shouldn't have bothered and went straight back to his quarters, but something held him in this place almost against his will. Letting his gaze wander through the room and back to the biobed in front of him, he couldn't find anything amiss here either. Was his mind playing tricks on him? Perhaps he was just stressed? He frowned, his eyes dropping down to the blue light that was enveloping the biobed, the stranger's face only dimly discernable under the protective shimmer. For a long moment, he just stared at what little was visible of his face, his own heart thudding loudly in his chest. The pulsing light was mesmerizing. Almost against his will, he found himself bending closer over the sleeping body. Something held him captive. He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something…

"I'm here, Doctor."

He nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden voice behind him, almost dropping the padd in his hands.

"Lamara?!"

His nurse was standing a few feet behind him, a look of stunned bewilderment on her young face as she saw his startled reaction. "I'm sorry, I thought you'd been calling my name," she quickly apologized, her eyes straying down to the biobed behind him. "Is everything okay?" She looked genuinely worried, at the same time not sure what was wrong.

"Ah, yes, sorry, I…." he began, utterly unsure what was up with him. And from one moment to the other the spell was suddenly broken. "It's nothing important," he quickly shook his head, scolding himself for jumping at shadows so easily. He drew a long breath and tried to calm his thumping heart. "I just wanted to inform you that I'll be off for a few hours. If there's any news or anything with our patient, just call me."

With that he threw a last and long look down on his patient, before he excused himself, heading straight back to his quarters.

It was definitely time he got some rest.


	2. Chapter 2

**- Chapter 02 -**

"Okay, now try again!"

Julian Bashir did as he was told and tapped the small control unit on one side of the heavy door but apart from a low, half-dying chirp, nothing happened. The hatch remained as unmoving and solid as it had been for the last thirty minutes. Unsure, he took a step back.

"Doesn't look good, Miles. The door still doesn't seem to get any power," he bent over the railing of the small ramp that was leading up from the ground to the entry hatch of the alien ship. One person lay half-hidden beneath the bulky belly of the space ship, only two feet sticking out from under the rusty giant. He heard some clatter and rattle, tools being pushed around over the shuttle bay floor, followed by an irritated snort.

"No, that can't be. I just rerouted the secondary power coupling," the voice exclaimed.

A loud clank. Followed by a curse that made Julian cringe.

"Shall I try again?" he called down over the railing, his eyes searching for the chief. With all the technical equipment strewn over the shuttle bay floor he couldn't help wondering what would be left after O'Brien was done with the alien ship's main circuitry.

A second later, a reddened face suddenly appeared two meters beneath him, holding some tiny metal part into the light to examine it closer. The chief's eyes narrowed and, grumbling something inaudible under his breath, he ducked back under the ship. A few moments and clanks later, O'Brien called out again.

"Okay, now it should work!"

Julian shrugged and moved again over to the metal hatch to activate the control panel.

And finally a low, promising hiss penetrated the silence of the shuttle bay, making him instinctively back away in surprise.

"Miles?" he called out, still eying the ship's hatch suspiciously – but not without some thrill of excitement. "I… think it moved."

Already moving closer to run a hand over the uneven metal surface, he suddenly paused when he heard the loud clang of technical equipment being dumped on the shuttle bay floor, then a rustling, followed by the sound of hasty footsteps on the ramp behind him.

"Don't touch it!" The chief suddenly towered behind him on the steps, his face still red with the anger of trying to find a way to bridge the power circuitry of the ship doors - and the effort of running up the small ramp.

"Why not?"

"Because we don't know what's inside," the chief said as if it was obvious and shot him a warning look because he knew all too well that Julian would be the first to poke his head through the first gap in the door – and subsequently fall in a heap to the floor when whatever toxic gases could be on that ship came flooding his lungs.

"Let me first check if the life support of the ship is running again," O'Brien simply said as he flicked open his tricorder next to Bashir and stared intently at the small display. After a few moments of leaden silence, he finally nodded. "The air seems to be clean. Life support is working again. No other life forms aboard." With a raised brow he nodded toward his friend. "Let's have a look inside."

He took a step forward and keyed in a sequence of commands, making the door before them vibrated – and finally come open. The chief shot Julian a triumphant grin, as if he wanted to say that there was no piece of technology he wasn't able to bend to his will sooner or later.

Julian was the first to enter. Drawing his own tricorder and shoving himself through the slender gap in the door, he squinted into the sudden darkness that was greeting him on the other side. He blinked and strained to see through the black that surrounded him, the only light slanting in through the door gap from behind his back. As expected, the air was musty and stale, making Julian cough as he tried to navigate inside the unknown ship.

"Miles, it's dark…" he commented as he ventured further into the room. He ran his hand along the bulkhead to his side so that he wouldn't lose orientation. The room couldn't be very big. They'd seen it from the outside and even the tricorder readouts showed only one main room with something like an adjoining smaller room – some kind of sleeping compartment or dining room. It wasn't actually a place you could get lost in, but still, without any light, the narrow entrance to the ship seemed to stretch infinitely into nothingness.

"I know that it's dark, Julian," the chief retorted sarcastically, before he followed him inside. "There has to be some kind of power switch. Some control unit or console or so. It should be somewhere to your right…"

Julian was practically blind. Still groping for anything similar to a power switch but finding nothing but cool metal beneath his fingers, his foot suddenly caught something on the floor. He stumbled, flailing his arms to prevent himself from crashing to the floor. He almost lost his balance, but managed to grab hold of _something _to stop his plummeting body. The soft touch made his stomach lurch, and a shudder course through him, making him wish he could see where they were going – or at least what it was that had eased his fall. Scrambling to his feet, he staggered some steps forward before he wiped his hands against his trousers, stumbling again to find that damn power switch…

A second later, he heard a familiar click – and then a beam of light shot through the darkness and illuminated the floor around his feet.

"Miles?" he exclaimed in surprise, spinning around to see where the sudden light came from.

A second later, the lighting suddenly churned to life, the board systems around them powering up as if on some ghostly command. Within seconds, the room was flooded with a murky twilight, dark enough to keep the shadows in every corner and niche, but bright enough to make him squeeze his eyes shut in reflex.

Slowly, he opened his eyes again, and saw a familiar figure in the doorway who was stowing away the flashlight she'd been using moments before.

"We should have thought of that…" the chief arched one brow as he steadied himself next to him.

"Ezri?" Julian exclaimed in surprise. "What are _you_ doing here? Weren't you supposed to be with the captain and Senator Remak?"

"And let you two here have all the fun? No way!" She grinned mischievously and came closer, safely straddling the heap of ragged bags he'd almost tripped over earlier. "The same goes for you. Didn't you want to take some rest?" She arched one brow inquisitively, mock disapproval on her young face.

Julian held up both hands. "Guilty as charged. I did catch some hours of sleep. But then I've never been one for sleeping during the day…" Then his eyes strayed to the thing that was hanging by a hook next to the entry hatch. With an inward sigh of relief, he realized that it had to be some kind of blanket or heavy fabric… even though it stroke him as slightly odd to find something like it next to the entrance of a starship. He shook his head, trying to get his wits together. This was not the right time for jumping at shadows.

"You better had a look at this!" Chief O'Brien had already rounded the next corner and was standing now in what seemed to be the main bridge of the small vessel. Julian quickly flashed an awkward smile toward Dax and hurried to keep up with the chief. It was the second when he came to a halt next to O'Brien and followed his stunned gaze toward the wall at the back part of the ship that he suddenly caught his breath.

The ship was small. Even its outer appearance had suggested that it couldn't hold more than two or three persons, its size barely larger than that of a runabout. That their guest had been the only life form on board seemed to confirm that they were dealing with a ship that had been designed for short-range travel rather than voyages beyond the own star system.

But what he definitely hadn't expected was the sight that was now meeting his doubting eyes.

"Looks like some kind of camp, rather than the inside of a spaceship," Ezri commented hesitantly, as she came to a halt next to Bashir and O'Brien. She threw an anxious look around, her brows furrowing with disbelief and something hovering between curiosity and disgust.

The room that seemed to be the bridge – or main control room – had only enough space to host two individuals. There was some kind of metal frame that hung at the wall right in front of them, most probably a viewscreen, though its display was broken and dull with the years of oblivion. A small console ran directly in front of it, a single chair indicating that the ship was meant to be steered by one individual alone. There wasn't much more technical equipment – apart from a long, black alcove set into the wall at one side. The stasis unit, as Julian surmised. There barely seemed to be any power running through it any more. Even with the main power restored, the unit emanated only a dull blue glow, barely discernible even in the murky twilight that was filling the little room.

What came rather unexpected, though, were the heavy, brown blankets that were littering the floor, tattered and ragged like the rest of the ship. Another heap of clothes, or anything that came at least close, was lying piled up in one corner, some half-decayed bags leaning tripped over against them. The rest of the floor was littered with mounts of unrecognizable crumbles and dust. Food. Or some other material that had silently rotted away while the crew of the little ship had slept year after year after year.

But what held the chief's gaze was not the chaos of decay and lost belongings, the broken down technical equipment or the barely functioning stasis unit. It was a small niche set into the back part of the room, well-shielded from any curious gazes and only visible if you stood directly in front of it. Frowning, Julian took a step closer, and felt a cold shiver run down his spine at the sight.

"What do you think _that_ is?" the chief said in astonishment, gingerly venturing closer. His eyes ran over the dark niche before them, and his brows knit into a confused frown as he tried to get a better glimpse at what was set almost hidden before them into the bulkhead.

"Seems to me like some kind of … _shrine_? Or sort of," Ezri commented, examining the small, dark space. It was barely larger than a computer interface, with almost no ornaments apart from some strange little stone statues that were arranged in a semi-circle around the middle of the alcove. She counted seven altogether. "Looks like some kind of figures," she squinted at the line of little statues, trying to discern anything that would help them make sense of their unexpected find, at the same time keeping a good distance between herself and the eerie little things.

"The tricorder is picking up some residues of plant wax and ash particles." Julian ran his tricorder over the crumbles that were littering the bottom of the alcove. As the rest of the ships interior, it was covered in dust. "Seems to me as if there once had been candles in there…"

"Candles?" O'Brien threw him a disbelieving look. "Tell me you're kidding."

"Believe me, Chief, I'm not," he replied curtly, studying the outline of the alcove. Something stroke him as odd, but he couldn't put his finger on it. And after some more minutes, it suddenly hit him. "The figures," he frowned, "do you think it's a coincidence that they all face toward the middle of the shrine?"

Ezri arched one brow. "I'm not sure. Perhaps he used the shrine for some kind of sacrifice. It would explain the candles."

"Makes me wonder why you need a shrine on board of a starship at all…" the chief snorted derisively under his breath.

Ezri pressed her lips into a contemplative line and turned around. Her gaze wandered over the lifeless ship equipment, over the half dead stasis chamber, along the floor littered with all kinds of personal belongings – or what was left of them – and… She suddenly grimaced, taking a quick step back.

"Oh my god," she exclaimed under her breath. "Don't tell me this is what I think it is…"

Julian followed her gaze down to the floor, and frowned. A sea of dark stains was covering the floor in front of the niche, the stains barely visible after all the years. He squatted down, brushing his fingertips over the floor. The liquid had long ago dissipated into the air and there wasn't much left of it apart from the dark remains that were dotting the floor like some kind of ill-boding omen. He flicked his tricorder open and ran a short diagnostic but it only confirmed what he already suspected.

"I'm afraid it is…" he said slowly, staring with a bad feeling in his stomach at the dark rims at their feet.

"But there's so much of it," Ezri said in disbelief, her gaze gliding over the floor and back up to the shrine. "What on earth happened here?"

O'Brien came a step closer. "So what is it?" he asked impatiently.

"Blood," Julian said in a neutral voice as he pocketed his tricorder, trying not to sound as unsure as he felt. "And a lot of it…"

Suddenly next to him Ezri shuddered. "I'm sorry, if you two could excuse me for a moment..." And with that she hurried out of the room, almost fleeing from the scene, her shoulders hunched and shaking.

For a short moment, Julian considered following her to see if everything was alright, but then he saw O'Brien moving over to one of the consoles and his curiosity got the better of him. With a quick tab on its dark, dusty surface, the chief shook his head. "Let's see what we have here…" he muttered under his breath, keying in a series of commands. And after a few more long seconds, the glassy surface suddenly blinked to life. With a humorless chuckle, the chief's fingers flew over the display.

"And?" Julian peered over his shoulder.

"It's a wonder it still works…" the chief replied in a dark voice. "But there seem to be a few entries in the shuttle's log. It'll take some time to extract the data. I'm not even sure, if we can get the files out in one piece or how much of that data can be recovered after all these years. Seems like the ship's database suffered a great deal of damage when the power cells bled out of power."

While O'Brien got down to work, Julian threw a quick look back toward where Ezri had just vanished. Then he sighed and took his medical tricorder, hurrying after her.

He found her outside leaning against the ship's entry hatch, her eyes closed and her face drawn into a faint grimace. Her face was as white as chalk, and she sucked in deep, deliberate breaths to calm herself.

"Everything okay?" he gently asked as he came closer.

Startled, Ezri's eyes flew open, though when she saw who was standing next to her, she slowly shook her head. "Yeah, it's getting better." And with a sigh she grimaced again. "You know, I wasn't always like… _this_." She indicated her body, as if it was something foreign, something she hadn't gotten used to yet. She crossed her arms before her slender chest, letting her head drop defiantly back against the ship. She looked so young in that moment, like if she had just graduated from Starfleet Academy, on her first real adventure in space. But he knew that it was a lie.

"Shall I give you something?" Julian tried but only earned himself a reproaching look from the young Trill. Then her expression softened, and for a short moment he thought her eyes took on a different color.

"No, I think I'm fine. I guess it was just the darkness, and that… _blood_." She spoke the words as if she was still fighting her sickness. But to her credit, she didn't complain further. "It has to be the Emony in me. She hated blood…" Ezri sighed as she stared up at the ceiling of the shuttle bay. Then she chuckled. "Sometimes it feels like you have seven different voices in your head. And your own of course. And every one of them tells you something different. They all have their likes and dislikes… it's hard to tell how much of it is what _you _really want." But looking into his worried face, she shook her head. "Never mind."

"Are you really okay?" he asked one last time, but she just shook her head again, an almost grateful smile on her face.

"I'm fine, thank you. Let's see if the chief has found anything useful," she tried to sound casual when she went back into the lion's den with as much confidence as she could muster.

Julian knew that she was putting on a show for his benefit and that she was anything but fine. He knew that she was only trying to be the old brave _Dax_, or at least the old Dax everyone on the station used to know. Sometimes he couldn't shake the feeling she was going out of her way to fit in again. Even though she didn't need to pretend she was someone she wasn't. She could be so much more. Given time, she'd hopefully realize that she was more than just the mixture of eight lifetimes of memories. Sighing under his breath, he followed her back to the main bridge where the chief was still trying to get the ship's computer to work.

"Found anything useful?" Julian moved casually to stand next to O'Brien, trying to make sense of all the little lights and figures strewn across the alien console. Ezri was leaning propped on both hands against the interface, watching the chief's fingers fly over the alien interface.

"Most of the entries are damaged or erased from the ship's logs. We'll need to try to run the ship's database through our station computer to see if we can single out some data that could be useful. But I did manage to single out some log entry in the subsystem. No video, but I managed to synchronize the audio file."

He tapped the controls, a concentrated frown on his face. "Let's see…"

And from one moment to the other, a strange sound resounded from the walls of their small confines. It was only static but every now and then Julian thought he could hear something close to a voice in the intelligible computer gibberish. He strained to listen closer. As did Ezri next to him.

"Chief, can we enhance the audio filters a little more?" the young Trill bent closer, all signs of sickness suddenly gone.

O'Brien arched one brow. "I've reduced the background radiation. We should get a clearer sound now. But don't expect too much. The data consists only of fragments and the universal translator will have a hard time with the missing syntax." He frowned. "Let's give it a try."

Again, only static filled the small bridge – until suddenly, a male voice broke through the noise. It was low and quiet. But there was a strange edge to it.

"…_in our own self-made prison…get into contact with surface… the commlink…down three days ago but… something… gone wrong… stopped believing their lies… are they…"_

The disembodied voice ended as abruptly as it had begun.

O'Brien frowned and shot a worried glance at Bashir who stood, still listening attentively into the silence. "That's all I can get at the moment," he shook his head. "It isn't much but I'll send it over to OPS and run it through our station computer. I think we'll be able to reduce most of the background radiation and perhaps restore some missing parts. But I wouldn't get my hopes up. This whole ship here is practically as good as dead. We'll be more than lucky if only a few percent of the original data have survived the long journey and the computer outage."

"An attack?" Julian leaned back against a console, trying to make sense of the few words the computer had betrayed. "He said something about a surface…"

"Like the surface of a planet," Ezri threw in, biting her lower lip. "I wonder what happened…" She threw a curious gaze around, well avoiding the ugly stains on the floor, as if the riddle of what had happened to the stranger could be found somewhere within these walls.

"Sounds like he had good reasons to try to get away from where he was," the chief commented flatly, drawing himself up. His face suddenly drew into a dark grimace, as he retrieved his tricorder and cast a quick look around. "And if you ask me, I don't like it."

Julian threw him a questioning look.

"It somehow reminds me of the old saying that some riddles better remain unsolved," O'Brien shook his head. "I don't know about you, but I've seen enough. This ship here is starting to give me goose bumps," he said with a distrusting gaze at the stasis chamber and the dark niche. "We had our look around and we have our data. Let's get back to OPS. The captain's waiting for our news and there isn't really much we can do here, anyway."

And for once, none of them argued with the chief.

* * *

When the captain entered the ward room, the dark expression on his face was enough to leave no doubt that the news he was bringing weren't pleasant ones. He waited for everyone to take their places, before he went to stand in front of the long conference table, his hands clasped calmly behind his back. But behind this unusual calmness, the glint of obvious anger in his dark eyes was hard not to notice.

Next to him stood a man, as cool and unmoving as if he were carved out of ice. His bushy black eyebrows were drawn into a faint grimace of superior disdain when his cold gaze went over the assembled crewmen. Even though he didn't say a word, his mere presence was enough to let the room temperature drop several degrees. His piercing blue eyes held no spark of interest, as if he considered the staff meeting a waste of time and regretted not being able to address himself to more important issues right now. His shiny silver uniform as well as the star-like silver emblem on his chest betrayed him for a member of the Romulan senate, most likely the new senator Remak everyone had been talking about, even though Julian had only heard stories of the new delegate from Romulus, but never seen the man in person. The little he had heard of Remak, though, was enough to tell him that if they never saw the man again, it would be too soon.

Julian severed his gaze for a short moment from his commanding officer and the newcomer to shoot a quick, unsure look toward O'Brien and Ezri who sat on the other side of the long conference table. Ezri slightly inclined her head toward the senator with the ghost of a troubled smile as if to tell him _that's him_, while O'Brien looked as if he was bracing himself for whatever bad news the captain was bringing.

Not that he could blame him. Sisko having them summoned in the ward room couldn't bode well. Ever since Gul Dukat had released the Pah-wraiths, the enemies of the Bajoran Prophets, from their exile in the Fire Caves on Bajor, the war with the Dominion had grown to a scale only few of them were able to comprehend. It had developed from an intergalactic war to something chaotic and more complicated than anyone of them had ever imagined, a fight not only between peoples but religious deities and spiritual forces. The last remarkable change of the situation had occurred when the up until then neutral Romulan Empire had decided to join the war against the Dominion on the Federation's side last year but apart from the Prophet's and the Pah-wraith's spiritual struggle which had caused a temporary collapse of the wormhole, not much had changed in their everyday-war-life since then. The Dominion was still out there trying to seize control of the Alpha Quadrant with the Cardassians as their allies. The Klingon Empire, the Federation and now the Romulan Empire standing their ground and trying to keep both out of their territories, fighting a desperate war against a too powerful enemy not because they had any false hope of winning the war – but because it was the only way for them to survive. Every staff meeting during the last months had been nothing more and nothing less than a report of their current situation, giving them a prospect of the gloomy future that was waiting for them, introducing them to new defeats, obstacles and challenges on the long, hard road toward freedom. And with the stone-faced, cold senator suddenly at Sisko's side, Julian couldn't shake the feeling that this staff meeting now was going to be even worse than usual.

Having waited for the last whispers to die down, Sisko finally cleared his throat and took a step forward, running his hands over the back of the chair at the head of the table.

"Everyone, thank you very much for your coming. I called in this meeting because I wanted to inform you about the recent… _changes_ that have taken place on the station. But first of all, I'd like to introduce Senator Remak to you," he said without much preamble, nodding toward the senator who still carried himself in a way that left no doubt that he considered himself superior to everyone else in the room. The senator's indifferent gaze went over the men and women sitting around the conference table in the ward room, and even though his eyes still didn't betray any sign that he was very keen on making the acquaintance of anyone in the room, Julian had the strange feeling that he was being scrutinized.

"Senator, these are my senior staff," Sisko said, indicating every one of them as he called them by their names. O'Brien and Dax slightly inclined their heads, while Colonel Kira and Commander Worf sat as unmoving and reserved as the senator. Only Odo was watching the scene stone-faced with arms crossed before his chest, his eyes never leaving the senator.

"Thank you, Captain," the Romulan finally said in a clipped tone, as if he considered the introduction completely unnecessary. Most probably, the Tal Shiar had already provided him with all the relevant information anyway, Julian thought with a pang of irritation.

"Senator Remak has come to the station on behalf of the Romulan Empire," Sisko said, one brow raised. "He's come to DS9 in order to… _investigate_… how far Romulan interests are taken into consideration here. He's a member of the Romulan Senate, and he will be our guest for the time being."

All of a sudden, Remak took an unexpected step forward, like a puppet that had suddenly come to life. His gaze swept over the men and women around the table – though this time his eyes were narrowed, and his lips drawn into a faint grimace.

"As many of you might be aware, DS9 is playing a leading role in the war against the Dominion. Now that the wormhole has reopened more than ever. Our people has agreed to join the Federation in the war against the Founders. But you may understand that we want to make sure that the new alliance is in our best interest."

"But we already have a Romulan presence on board the station," Worf interjected.

Remak arched one brow at the name. Then he chuckled. It was a humorless chuckle, tinged with the bitter note of contempt. "Senator Cretak is a fool, Commander," he began. "She believes in a better future, she's obsessed with this idea of our people working together with the Federation for our both benefit. But let us be true to each other. We're no friends, we never have been. Our peoples are too different and there is nothing regrettable about it. Even if the Romulan Empire has agreed to join the war against the Dominion, that does make us allies, but only now and only until the immediate crisis is over."

"But Senator Cretak is an official representative of the Romulan Senate. She's been on the station for months…" Bashir said with a frown, not sure what business had really brought Remak to the station.

He felt a pang of something when the senator's eyes suddenly met his own. The Romulan's stare was piercing, as if he was seeing right through him. "Ah, the famous Dr. Julian Bashir," he said, a slight smile on his face as if he was savoring the intimidating effect he knew that his behavior had on others. "One of the few persons who ever made it back from behind enemy lines. A lucky survivor. Tell me, Doctor, what does it feel like to come back to a life you'd already given as good as up on? An unexpected gift not many of us have or will ever receive."

Julian stared at the senator, feeling like having been slapped in the face. For a short moment he was completely taken off guard by the senator's unexpected hostile and abusive words, not sure if he should feel startled by the senator's obvious knowledge about his interment in a Dominion prisoner camp or angry about the obvious accusation in Remak's voice. Before Julian found his voice, though, Sisko already interfered. "Senator, I think that's enough," he said in a firm voice that held the unspoken threat that he wouldn't tolerate any more offences toward any of his crewmembers.

The senator's lips curled up in a half-smile. He held Julian's gaze for several more tension-filled moments until he finally spoke again as if nothing had happened. "Senator Cretak is a weak woman who was sent to the station by people who misjudged her readiness to step in for the Romulan Empire. She's a women too softened by the interaction with the Federation. It is my intention to change this. She's failed to represent our Senate the day she let herself be chased away by empty threats and a situation that not only required courage and will but also a good poker face."

Kira leaned forward, barely able to hold her temper at bay, knowing all too well what Remak was getting at. "The Romulans requested to set up hospital facilities on Bajor's seventh moon Dirna. It turned out that your men used it as a weapons stock without informing neither the Bajoran government nor the Federation. You may understand that secretly accumulating weapons behind your ally's back isn't exactly beneficial for your alliance."

Remak snorted. "Be it as it may. But fact is that Senator Cretak has failed in her capacity as Romulan ambassador on DS9. Which is why, from now on, I will take over her responsibility as liaison officer on board the station. I've already arranged with Captain Sisko that I will act as an adviser in all important strategic decisions that are made here on DS9."

Kira leaned forward, propping her elbows on the table. "I'm sorry, Senator, but this here is as well a Bajoran space station. You'll need the consent of the Bajoran government for taking part in any strategic operations that concern the station's security and our people's interest."

Remak didn't even blink. "Then I suggest you go ask the Council of Ministers yourself. They've already put their fingerprint on the consent letter. You had better know what your own people is considering the best for Bajor unless you want your own position questioned by the government one day."

Before Kira could utter another word, the senator suddenly turned to Sisko, ending the conversation with a dismissive wave of his hand. "And now, if you'll excuse me, there is other business I need to tend to."

He didn't even bother to wait for the captain to acknowledge his words, marching off toward the exit without another word or another look back.

Only after the door had closed behind his back, did the room suddenly erupt into chaos.

"Captain, you've not given your consent to this, have you?" Colonel Kira was the first to speak. She looked as if she was about to jump up from her seat and follow Remak, indignation painted all over her face. "Whoever that senator is, he's an omen of bad luck."

Sisko held up his hands to quieten the room. Then he took a deep breath and sighed. It was a sigh full of regret and subdued anger. It wasn't hard to tell that he wasn't very pleased with the outcome of this either.

"I wish I had any choice in this matter, Colonel," he said darkly. "But Senator Remak is an official representative of the Romulan Empire. I've already talked to Admiral Ross. He wasn't aware of the Romulans' plan to replace Senator Cretak on the station either. He said he'll see what he can find out about why Remak so suddenly showed up on our doorsteps but at the moment there isn't really much we can do."

"So you're allowing this Remak to stay on the station?" Odo wanted to know.

"The orders came directly from Starfleet Headquarters. Remak came as a substitute for Senator Cretak. Nothing more and nothing less. The only thing that really changes is that Remak has requested to play an advisory role in our tactical meetings. And I'm afraid Starfleet Headquarters have given their consent to it."

Odo crossed his arms before his chest. "But what about the Bajoran government? Is it true what Remak has said about the Council of Ministers? Are they aware of what Remak is doing here?"

Sisko nodded. "It appears so."

"But why would anyone give their consent to let a smug, arrogant and certainly not cooperative man like Remak meddle like this with our decisions here?" Kira fumed.

"I wish I had the answer to that," the captain slowly said. "But let me say this: I don't trust Senator Remak. And I will do everything in my power to get him off this station. But for the time being, there is little we can do. Let's try to make the best of the situation."

He ran a hand over the back of the chair in front of him and took a deep breath. "Chief, do we have any news about our guest from beyond the wormhole? Could you find out more about his ship?" he suddenly changed topics.

O'Brien cleared his throat, and threw a quick look at Bashir and Dax. "I'm afraid no, sir. We checked his ship and the ship's database but there wasn't really much we could salvage. There is something rather disturbing about the condition we found the ship in, though…"

Ezri shook her head. "We're not sure, Captain. The ship seems to have been designed for only one or two persons and there was nothing suspicious about it – apart from the fact that it was quite chaotic inside – but there was something that stroke us as slightly odd. It was some kind of religious artefact, some kind of shrine of sorts. We're not entirely sure why our guest brought it with him or for what purpose. But it looks pretty much as if someone had performed some kind of ritual in that place. I don't know how to explain it better. There was so much blood on the floor. Everything else was rather inconspicuous but the place before the small shrine was covered in blood…"

Sisko frowned at the news. "Anything else that could tell us where our guest is from?"

"We were able to save a few fragments from the ship's computer. They're badly damaged but there was one entry we managed to get running," O'Brien conceded slowly as if he still didn't like poking his nose into business he thought better remained untouched.

Sisko turned a questioning gaze toward his three officers. "So what did it say?"

"It was an audio file. Without the right restoration program the audio fragments didn't make much sense but whoever did that recording was speaking of some kind of attack," O'Brien gave reluctantly back.

"We think that perhaps his homeworld, or starbase, was attacked," Julian jumped in. "There wasn't much more information but the chief thinks that with the right recovery program we will be able to restore some more of the missing audio parts."

"I've already sent the data down to the science lab," the Irishman nodded. "The program is running as we're speaking."

"Good," Sisko nodded thoughtfully, "Doctor, how is our guest holding up? Any chance that he'll regain consciousness again?"

Julian grimaced. "It's hard to tell. Right now we cannot risk getting him out of stasis. We'll have to wait until his neural pathways have stabilized. I… cannot say for sure that he'll make a recovery, though…"

"I see," the captain slowly said. Then he drew himself up and straightened his uniform. "I want you to keep me up to date on this matter. If there is any news, let me know. Dismissed."

When everyone got up from the table and filed out into the corridor, Julian couldn't help notice the still gloomy look on the captain's face as he stood looking absently out the viewport – and for once Julian was glad that he had his own business to tend to. Even with the backlog of work and the strange alien patient in his infirmary he knew for sure that with the senator watching Sisko's every step he wouldn't have wanted to trade places with the captain. He was glad that the short meeting with Remak today was everything that was required from him by Starfleet protocols and that he could leave the field of politics to those in command. Squaring his shoulders, he hurried off toward the turbolift, back to the infirmary and his own work.

* * *

It was already late at night when he finally dropped exhaustedly down onto his bed, ready to fall asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

They'd worked on the audio recovery file until late in the evening. They hadn't managed to get much more information out of it than the short piece they'd already listened to on board of the alien vessel, but those few words had been enough to keep his mind busy for the better half of this day. Being on that ship, walking through the decayed and rotted belongings of a man who himself was lying more dead than alive in the infirmary, had been an odd feeling. Julian wasn't exactly one for being scared so easily, but even he had felt a gloomy depression while being on board of that ship. Getting back to the safe confines of the space station he'd more or less grown to consider his home, had been an indescribable relief. He didn't know why, but the chief's comment about the ship giving him goose bumps had hit the mark. He was glad that a short computer transfer had been enough to copy the ship's database into their own, which made it possible to work on the data recovery from the science lab rather on site in the alien ship.

He yawned and took off his boots, not even bothering with his uniform. The prospect of a full night of sleep almost made him break into tears. Groggily, he climbed into bed, draping the bedcover over his tired body. The soft sensation of the pillow against his face felt so good that he almost immediately felt his eyelids close. Wherever that alien ship came from and whatever those logs were about, it could wait until tomorrow.

Finally, he felt the tension of the last hours release. Within minutes, his mind began drifting away, and the sweet embrace of sleep took him.

Until a sudden noise all at once tore him from his half-sleep.

Reluctantly he opened his eyes, his mind too drowsy at first to comprehend what it was that had pulled him back from sleep so suddenly. For a long moment he just lay there, his mind hovering between dream and reality, while he listened sleepily into the silence of his quarters.

There it was again.

A strange noise like something soft but heavy being dragged over the floor. An unnatural sound that made the blood freeze in his veins. And this time it was definitely coming from the living-room.

From one moment to the other he was again fully awake. He brought himself in a sitting position and squinted into the darkness toward the door to the living-room, every muscle taut. His bedroom was enveloped in darkness. As was the adjoining living-room. Was his mind playing tricks on him?

"Computer," he finally found his voice, "lights."

But nothing happened. Anxiously, he waited a few seconds.

"Computer?" He felt his heart beat faster when the station's computer failed to answer.

Unsure, he shoved the bedcover aside, and stumbled out of bed. His hand reached almost unconsciously for the drawer of the nightstand, and his fingers fumbled in the dark until he found the phaser he'd kept there ever since his first involuntary acquaintance with Sloan last year. "Computer? Raise lights," he commanded again, this time trying to lend his voice a steadiness the didn't feel. Slowly he neared the living-room of his quarters, phaser at the ready. Why wouldn't the lights go on? With a queasy feeling in his stomach, he realized that he no longer heard the strange noise, but the sudden heavy silence was even worse. His hand clutched the phaser, thumb ready to activate the weapon at the slightest hint of an intruder. Gingerly, he ventured into the living-room. Here too, everything was painted a pitch black, the only light slanting in through the big viewports at one side. The room was dark and quiet, the faint light from the stars casting long shadows across the room. But apart from the eerie silence, nothing seemed out of place.

He straightened, slowly letting out the breath he'd been holding. What was wrong with him? Why was he jumping at shadows so easily lately? Still, it _was_ unusual that the lights wouldn't come on. He'd call a technician from the maintenance unit first thing in the morning. He knew that he would sleep a lot sounder if he knew that everything was okay.

Already about to turn around toward the bedroom, he cried out in utter surprise when something suddenly slammed into him from behind. The sudden blow made him lose his balance, and sent him sprawling face-first onto the floor. The phaser was knocked from his hand, hurtling through the darkness somewhere out of reach. He emitted another yelp at the sudden pain that shot through his arm when his shoulder connected with something hard, before the rest of his plummeting body slammed on the floor. For a short moment he just lay there, his mind unable to process what had just happened. But then something made him move before he was even aware of it. He struggled to roll over onto his side, hastily scrambling to his feet, and turned in the direction of his attacker. But all he could see was the darkness of his quarters. The room was as quiet as a grave, making him for a moment wonder if he had just imagined things. The stabbing pain from his back, though, was only too real.

Slowly, he started to back away, his eyes still fixed on the door to the bedroom. He couldn't see anything. But he was sure that, from the other side of the dim room, someone was watching him. Or something.

He felt a strange fear reach out for him. His heart beat faster.

"Computer, lights!" he bellowed again. But nothing happened. A power outage? At the unlikeliest of times? He cursed the perfect timing, his eyes darting toward the door of his quarters. If he knew one thing, it was that he needed to get out of here. Whatever was lurking in the shadows at the other side of his quarters, he had no desire to make its acquaintance.

With a side glance at the door, he tried to gauge the distance through the twilight. It couldn't be more than a few meters. But for him it could have been kilometers and it wouldn't have made any difference. He didn't dare move, the cold grip of fear still holding him paralyzed.

He took a deep breath. _Think rationally. How big is the change that someone sneaked into your quarters while you were falling asleep, only waiting for you to wake up so that he could attack you?_ But then, how big were the chances of someone sneaking into your quarters, waiting next to your bed for you to wake up just to tell you that he needed a runabout and that you were going off to Bajor in the middle of the night?

He needed to call security.

"Bashir to…" He began again in a whisper. He didn't even have time to finish the sentence, when something suddenly grabbed his leg, pulling hard. He immediately lost his balance, crashing again back down to the floor. Something was clutching his ankle, its grip tightening painfully around him. He frantically kicked at the invisible attacker, trying to free himself. Though in vain. His mind raced. He still couldn't see anyone. But the pain in his leg was all too real. Something sharp like claws was digging into his skin, making him frantically thrash his leg. Grabbing blindly for something to use as a weapon to defend himself, his hand groped desperately through the darkness. It was as if his vision was blocked by something big and dark. Everything was black around him. He couldn't even see the stars outside the viewport any more. With a hammering heart, his hand found the leg of a chair and he hauled the object toward his attacker. He felt wood hit something hard, but it did not cause the reaction he had hoped for. In fact, it caused nothing.

His instincts screamed at him to get moving. Get out of here. Call security. But before he could scream for help, he felt something heavy press down on him, pinning him to the ground. Panic built inside his chest. He didn't understand what was happening. Nothing made sense.

And suddenly he realized that he couldn't breathe.

Something was pressing down on his throat, making it impossible for him to draw air into his lungs. He struggled, trying to free himself. Fear was threatening to overwhelm him. He tried to shake the attacker off, writhing on the floor, clawing at the hand – or something – that was pressing down on his throat.

He flailed out, trying to scream. But his lungs had no air. He felt reality around him drifting farther away, his muscles growing weaker and weaker with the lack of air. Stars appeared in his vision. His lungs felt like if he was being stabbed.

_The sound of weapons fire. Voices shouting over him, shouting about him. No air to breath. A pain so sharp that it made tears shoot into his eyes. A sticky wetness that was running down one side of his face. A paralyzing fear, so overwhelming and bone deep that it made him desperately wish to die._

And suddenly, it was as if his body was no longer his.

Only barely did he register through the fog in his mind that he clawed at his attacker with a strength he shouldn't possess, delivering blows in a blind frenzy fueled by the overwhelming dark fear in his chest. He only knew that he was going to die if he didn't. Driven by a force beyond his understanding, he struggled for his life, writhing and tearing, kicking and lunging. And from one moment to the other, he could breathe again.

He coughed, doubling over. His lungs felt like on fire from the lack of air, every breath a painful effort. Almost immediately, his instincts were screaming at him again, shocking him into action. His body was threatening to just collapse, but some still functioning rational part of his mind knew that he would seal his fate if he didn't move now.

_Move._

He blindly scrambled to his feet. Blood was rushing in his ears and stars exploding in his vision when he frantically staggered toward the door, crashing against it and hammering at the opening mechanism. He needed to get out of here.

And finally, the door yielded, whooshing open and disgorging him into the brightly lit corridor on the other side.

He stumbled out, driven by his own momentum, and squeezed his eyes shut at the sudden brightness.

Running an unsteady hand along the bulkhead to support his swaying body, he tried to bring as much distance as possible between himself and his quarters before he finally slumped against the corridor wall and panted heavily for breath. He felt sick. And his hands shook violently when he tapped his combadge.

"B-b-bashir to Security," he croaked.

The response came instantaneously. "Odo, here. What happened?"

Julian closed his eyes for a moment, drawing a deep breath to calm himself. Then his eyes darted back toward the door to his quarters and the corridor that was leading off into the distance. Once again, everything was quiet around him. He was standing perfectly alone in the middle of the deserted corridor of the habitat ring, shaking as if he'd just seen death itself.

His heart still beat painfully in his chest when he finally found his voice: "I… have not the slightest idea."


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi everybody,**

**Thank you so much for reading this story! XD Here you go, the next chapter!**

**But be warned: This is just the beginning... if you've read my other stories, you'll know what you're in for XD**

* * *

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**- Chapter 03 –**

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"Can you describe what it looked like?"

Odo folded his arms across his chest, one hand absently at his chin, and listened attentively to the account of events. Behind him, two of his security officers were busy scanning the room, running tricorders over every dark niche and every dark corner of his quarters. With the bustle all around them, it almost looked like at the scene of a crime…

_Well, it was_, he thought, _or almost would have been._

Julian swallowed, turning his attention back to the constable and Captain Sisko at his side.

"No… it was dark and… everything happened so fast," he slowly shook his head. His mind was still trying to make sense of it. "I couldn't actually _see _anything. But I could _feel _it. Like something watching me from the shadows. It suddenly knocked into me. And when I tried to run away from it, it launched itself after me, throwing me down to the floor." He still had goose bumps from the encounter, his fists and throat still sore from the fight. Almost absently, his hand rubbed over the throbbing bruise on his neck.

One of the security guards came over, holding his tricorder stretched out before him while he once again checked the readouts. Then he shook his head. "There's no sign that anyone else than Dr. Bashir had entered or been in these quarters for the last few hours. We scanned every corner of the room but there's nothing we could find," the young Bajoran officer reported, obviously uneasy that he couldn't come up with a better explanation of what had happened to the station's CMO – or at least some evidence that would shed some light on the strange case.

"No traces whatsoever?" Sisko, who'd been watching everything with a silent, dark frown so far, arched one brow.

"Negative, sir."

Sisko blew out a long breath. He'd most probably been contacted by Odo shortly after he'd gotten Julian's call. Seeing the captain now standing frowning in the middle of his living-room in the middle of the night, Julian couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for having torn the captain from his sleep. Especially after the hard day he'd obviously had with the senator, and especially now that no one was able to explain what had happened – least of all Julian himself.

"Any chance that whoever it was used a transporter to beam in?"

"No, sir," the young security guard shook his head. "We've checked the security logs. There are no traces of residual transporter energy. We've double-checked the registry. Whoever came in here didn't beam in – and he didn't use the front door either, that much is sure."

Odo snorted. "But then, we didn't find any evidence in Sloan's case either. And he definitely found a way to beam off and on the station without anyone noticing." It was no secret that in dubious cases like this, Odo preferred to believe the statement of a real person rather than what technology was trying to make him believe. Still, it was hard to convict someone of a crime when you didn't even have a scene of crime, least of all a suspect.

"Do you think it had something to do with Section 31?" Sisko sat down once again opposite Bashir on the couch, rubbing his chin contemplatively. "We haven't heard from Sloan in a while. What if he decided to get in contact with you again?"

"I wouldn't rule it out completely," Julian slowly conceded, "but I don't think it's his style… When Sloan showed up, he knew exactly what he wanted from me. He was straight forward. He didn't even bother when I told him that I would tell Starfleet about their existence. He's tried to recruit me but he's never tried to attack me…" _At least not until now_, he thought with a queasy feeling in his stomach, but kept his thoughts to himself.

"What about the lights?" Sisko threw a questioning look at Odo. "That still doesn't explain why the lights wouldn't come on…"

"According to our technical crew, there was nothing wrong with the lighting. There was no power outage and nothing that would explain why the computer wouldn't have complied with the order."

Julian sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. "So if I get you right there's _nothing_ you could find?"

Odo shook his head. "I'm sorry, Doctor, but there's nothing in our records that would confirm that someone else has been in your quarters. At least not at the presumable time the attack happened."

He felt his back still throbbing where he'd been hit, and his shoulder still aching with a dull pain. No way he could have just imagined the attack. Something had tried to _suffocate _him. His throat was still sore where the attacker had pressed him down to the floor. His fist still hurt from the frantic blows he'd delivered. He felt the fine hairs of his arms and neck bristle up. There was no chance he could have imagined all this.

The captain didn't look very pleased about the outcome, either. But with no real evidence, there was little he could do.

"Don't worry, Julian, we'll find out what happened here!" Sisko said nevertheless as he finally drew himself up. He took a quick look around before he turned back to his chief medical officer. "If you want, we can arrange some other quarters for you for the night."

"No, I… I'd rather stay here," Julian responded wearily. Somehow he doubted that it would make any real difference – or that he was safer there than here. Something told him that whatever had come to his quarters would find him no matter where he was. And here at least he was in familiar surroundings.

Sisko regarded him for a long moment, obviously still gauging if leaving Julian all on his own really was a good idea after all that had just happened. But then he seemed to make up his mind, turning to his chief of security.

"Constable, I'd like you to position two of your security officers outside Dr. Bashir's quarters for the night. If the attacker decides to come back, I want to be ready." With another assessing look around, Sisko added: "And I want a report on this incident tomorrow morning." Sisko patted the young man on the shoulder. "Try to get some rest, Julian. We'll try our best to find out what happened here tonight."

"Thank you, Captain."

He waited until the captain and Odo had left with the few security personnel, before he dropped back heavily on the couch, running a hand over his face. What on earth had happened? He definitely knew that there had been someone – or something – in his quarters. But that now no one seemed to be able to find any traces of it was more than disturbing. The last time someone had sneaked into his quarters, it had ended in a complete disaster. But then, he doubted that this time it had anything to do with Section 31. If they wanted him dead, he'd already be. They needn't sneak into his quarters at night. Death would find him before he even knew. But if it hadn't been Section 31, what was it then?

He sighed in resignation, tipping his head back against the couch.

His heart was still thudding anxiously in his chest, and there was a strange tingling sensation in his fingers. He must be still in shock from the attack, he thought numbly. Not that it mattered anyway. He let his gaze glide through his quarters that were once again silent and peaceful. No sign that anything wasn't right. He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

But instantly the images came back.

Images that made his chest tightened painfully.

Images he had tried to forget…

He groaned, rubbing his grainy eyes. He couldn't use this right now. He felt so tired and groggy, and the prospect of being kept awake by old memories almost drove him crazy. He didn't even know what had brought them back so suddenly. Trying to get his breathing back under control, he lay down the length of the couch, rolling onto his side and folding his arms under his head as a pillow. The better half of the last year he'd successfully managed to forget them. Everything had been fine. Until a few moments ago. He squeezed his eyes shut even more tightly, and tried not to think of anything. Especially not the dark shadow that he imagined lurking somewhere in his quarters, of the eyeless face that was watching him. Within minutes, his breathing slowed, his body surrendering to the sleep he needed so badly.

Until he finally fell into a restless, fitful sleep.

* * *

"Tomorrow night at midnight. Don't let that opportunity slip!"

With a quick touch, Quark deactivated the commlink, a small triumphant smile on his face. The preparations were as good as done. Only a few more calls, the arrangements of a place where they were undisturbed and for themselves, some entertainment for the night to keep his guests happy. He rubbed his hands together, savoring this rare feeling of excitement.

With a pang of nostalgia he realized that he hadn't done this in a while. At least not since the Dominion War had taken a turn for the worse and the station was at the center of an intergalactic struggle whose end was more and more looking as if it was going into the wrong direction. But for once, business was blooming again. Like back in old days. He hummed to himself, turning back to the bar – and almost froze in his movement when he saw the man sitting at the counter directly in front of him.

His surprise must have shown on his face because his guest indicated the faintest of smiles as he watched him with his piercing blue eyes. He had his hands folded stoically in front of him.

"Good day, Senator," he sauntered over to the Romulan, trying to lend his voice as much casualty as he could muster, silently wondering how long the man had already been sitting there, possibly eavesdropping on a conversation that was none of his business. "May I get you something to drink? Some Romulan ale perhaps? A Tarkalean tea? Some Raktajino?"

The Romulan's answer was a low, derisive sneer. "Let's leave out the pleasantries and get down to business," he said without much preamble.

"Business," Quark echoed, not sure what _business_ a Romulan senator could have with him. Especially not one like Remak.

Remak leaned closer, propping his elbows on the counter. He could have passed for a Vulcan, so little did his face betray. "You're being said to be a man of information…" he said meaningfully.

Quark feigned innocence. "Am I?" He went over to collect two glasses from the shelf in his back, opening a bottle of Aldorian brandy to pour the senator and himself a glass.

"What sort of information?" he put the glass in front of Remak, arching one brow.

A quick smile of contempt flashed across the senator's lips but it was gone in the blink of an eye. So fast that Quark wasn't even sure it had been there at all.

"About the Federation for one thing," Remak looked him straight in the eye, making Quark shudder inwardly. The senator didn't exactly strike him as a man willing to waste his time over small talk. "You've been living among the Federation for quite some time. You must be familiar with their habits, their ideas, the way they're working." He spoke the words as if they left a sour aftertaste in his mouth.

Still not quite sure what the man was getting at, Quark shrugged. "As is about almost everyone else on the station as well." He leaned closer, making sure no one was near enough to listen in on their conversation. "So, what is that information you're seeking? Information about whom?" He took a sip of his own glass.

Remak didn't blink. "Captain Sisko… Colonel Kira… Dr. Bashir…"

Quark almost choked on his drink. Then he grimaced. "Oh, come on! As far as I'm informed you're a member of the Romulan Senate. You surely have ways of obtaining that kind of information yourself. I'm sure the Federation has already put you in the picture of how things are done here on the station. I don't see how I can be of help."

Remak snorted. He still hadn't touched his drink. "I'm not interested in official statements."

"So what is it you're interested in?" Quark asked in genuine puzzlement.

"Rumors. Their weaknesses. Their fears. Things that don't appear in the official records..."

Quark set the glass back down. "What do you need this kind of information for?"

"I have thought you a man of business," the senator sneered and one corner of his mouth curled up in a contemptuous half-smile. "But perhaps I was wrong."

Quark regarded the senator warily. Only a fool passed up a business opportunity. But then the senator looked like a man who had "trouble" as his middle name. "You may understand that this kind of information is…" he hesitated, shaking his head, "quite hard to come by…"

The senator didn't so much as blink. "Oh, I'm sure a man like you has his ways to get what he wants."

Quark swallowed under the scrutinizing gaze. Then he drew himself up. "I'll need time," he tried to sound casual as he walked over to put something into the computer interface.

"Very well," the senator said. And without another word, he stood, walking briskly toward the exit, making Quark wonder what he'd gotten himself into this time.

* * *

"_We're trapped. Trapped in our own self-made prison... We cannot get back to Najed, and we cannot get out of this piece of steel… It's beginning to drive me crazy… We're working on a new communit to get into contact with the planet's surface… The commlink broke down three days ago, but after all we know it was their doing... They've seperated us from the Ministry... They've seperated us from our families... Takal is trying to hack into their database to find out more about them… Something must have gone wrong… But as long as we're separated from the rest of the world, no one has any idea what could have happened... What do they really want from us…? What is their true aim…? We've long since stopped believing their lies... Who are they…? And what do they want…?"_

The log entry continued for a few more seconds, but the rest was only static.

With a quick touch, O'Brien halted the program, throwing them a meaningful gaze. "So what do you make of it? I was able to restore the data fragments up to 90 percent of the original. What you just heard is as good as everything that was on the data clip."

Ezri propped herself on her knees. "I'm not sure…" she slowly conceded, a contemplative frown on her face. "What about the other entries? Were you able to recover some more information?"

The chief nodded. "It's still only fragments but the computer's trying to piece it all back together. The one we heard now was the one the least damaged so it was rather easy to restore the original data. But it'll take some time to do likewise with the other entries."

"Sounds pretty much as if their homeworld had been under attack," Ezri mused thoughtfully. "Perhaps the Dominion? We know that they've attacked other worlds before to bring them under their rule. What if the Dominion attacked their homeworld and our guest managed to escape on one of their space ships?"

O'Brien leaned back. "But why one single man? And the ship didn't exactly strike me as an evacuation pod. If they tried to save their people, why was there only one person on board. Besides, the ship rather looked like some flying grave than a real starship."

Ezri looked troubled. "I have no idea, Chief…" She bit her lower lip. "Makes me wonder what he meant with the bit about the self-made prison… sounds pretty much as if he'd been on some kind of spaceship or space station when the attack happened."

The Irishman arched one brow. "Would make sense."

Ezri thought for another few moments, then she looked over to the third person in the science lab who hadn't uttered a single word since they'd started with the analysis of the data fragments. "What do you think, Julian? Any suggestions?"

He startled. And shot her a half-stunned, half-questioning look, as if he hadn't really been listening. He looked tired. Like he hadn't slept in days, his face unnaturally pale under the bright lighting of the science lab. After a few moments, he seemed to come around, grimacing. "I'm not sure. Perhaps there hadn't really been an attack from outside. With what little we were able to restore so far, we cannot say for sure that their homeworld was really attacked by foreigners," he replied wearily.

She winced at the fatigue she saw in his eyes. She suppressed the urge to ask him if everything was okay, knowing very well that it wasn't. She'd heard of the incident in his quarters last night. Ben had informed her first thing in the morning, but also that they hadn't been able to make any progress in the investigations so far. According to the computer logs and the scans the security personnel took after the incident, there was nothing that would have shed some light on what had happened in Julian's quarters last night. As far as the security logs were concerned, the attack in Julian's quarters had never happened. Seeing him now sitting in front of her with his slumped shoulders and an expression on his face as if he was actually miles away, made her feel a pang of worry.

"Have you heard anything from Odo in the meantime?" she gently tried, hoping that perhaps he would want to talk about the attack.

He shook his head. "No, there's still no news." He looked miserable, making her wonder if it was due to the lack of sleep or the fact that no one seemed to find any evidence that there really had been something in his quarters.

"I know how you must feel. But we'll find out what happened," she tried in sympathy, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"I doubt it," he gave back, a little too sharply. There was a strange glimmer in his eyes.

"But there has to be some kind of evidence," she tried to reassure him. "I'm sure Odo's men will find something."

"Sloan didn't leave any evidence either," he commented flatly, not meeting her gaze. Instead he pretty much ignored her as he turned to O'Brien. "Chief, what about the rest of the audio files? How many do you think have survived the long time?" he suddenly changed topics, not noticing – or not wanting to notice – the half-wounded, half-worried look on Ezri's face.

O'Brien took a look at the padd that was lying on the console next to him. "It's more than we could have hoped for. Still, the biggest problem is that some of the files are more damaged than I thought. It's like trying to piece together a puzzle with heaps of holes in it."

Julian nodded, suddenly drawing himself up. "Okay, as there isn't really much we can do here, I guess I'd better see how our patient is doing…"

He didn't wait for their reply as he already started for the door, vanishing into the corridor without even saying goodbye.

Ezri shot an alarming glance at O'Brien. "Do you think he's alright?" Part of her felt injured by his rude behavior, the other part of her was full of concern because it was so unlike him.

The chief frowned. "He's been under a lot of stress lately. He has a patient slowly dying away under his hands. He's been attacked in his own quarters by something that – according to all computer scans - couldn't have been there. Let's give him some time. Everyone needs a little time for themselves once in a while."

Even though the chief sounded casual, she knew very well that he was no less worried about Julian's strange behavior than she was. She knew that he only wanted to reassure her.

"You know, I'm supposed to be a counselor," she said, not even to the chief in particular. "I'm supposed to help people through this kind of thing. I used to be quite good at it." She bit her lower lip.

"You know Julian. He's not exactly the type to be counseled so easily," O'Brien commented with a grimace.

She couldn't help a smile, glad for the encouragement. "Thanks, Chief. I guess I'd better leave you to this. Can you keep me up to date on your progress?"

* * *

He found him sitting alone at a table in Quark's, one elbow propped on the table, a padd in the other. And a glass of some strange – but obviously alcoholic – beverage standing in front of him, though he didn't seem to have touched the drink. He didn't seem to notice anything of what was going on around him either, his eyes fixed on the padd in his hands. Though his unfocused gaze clearly told him that he was actually miles away.

"Hey," he said as he sat down on the other free chair, placing his own drink on the table. "You mind if I have a seat?"

The young man startled, a look of utter surprise on his face. "Miles?"

"So, would you mind telling me what's bothering you? Ezri's quite worried about you. You should have seen her face after you left the science lab this afternoon."

Julian seemed surprised, but then his face grew dark. "It's…" he started but suddenly hesitated, as if he was making up his mind in the last minute. "…hard to explain."

The chief cocked one brow. "Don't think you can get away that easily."

The young man in front of him grimaced. But then his shoulders slumped. His eyes shifted over to the busy bustle in Quarks and his face took on a haunted look. "It's just memories…" he finally said under his breath.

"Memories?"

Julian tried not to meet his eyes. "It's really nothing important."

"So why is it getting to you so much then?"

Julian pressed his lips into a thin line, before he finally shook his head. Then he sighed. "Last night in my quarters, when that thing attacked me…" he swallowed, "I was suddenly back to last year."

O'Brien shot him a confused look, not sure he could follow. "What do you mean by back to last year?"

Julian didn't face him when he said, "…to what happened in the cargo bay. You know, the thing that happened with Evans…"

He felt his heart miss a beat. He remembered the incident in the cargo bay only too well. He still felt a cold chill run through him when he thought back to the short time they had spent with the older captain last year, to what had happened between Evans and Julian – and how much the older captain had lost control over his own actions.

"I thought that I was over them," Julian continued in a weak voice. "I thought that after one year I was finally over what happened with Evans. But last night, when that thing attacked me – I was suddenly back and I only know that I was so terrified of living through it again that I completely panicked. I was so blind with fear that I don't even remember how I managed to free myself or escape whatever was in my quarters last night."

O'Brien watched the young man with dismay. The picture of Julian and Evans sprang to his mind, Evans pinning the young man to the ground, his hand closed around Julian's throat. He'd seen his miserable shape after the captain had almost killed him. He'd been there when they had overpowered Evans and come to Julian's rescue. The whole scene had been terrible to watch. For Julian it must have been even worse.

"I don't know why it's bothering me so much. After all this time… I haven't thought of the incident for almost one year. But suddenly everything's back and it feels as if there's something dark and foreign in my chest which hadn't been there before the attack." He shook his head, an apologetic look on his face. "I'm sorry. I know that it sounds stupid."

"You know, if it's bothering you so much, why don't you talk to Ezri about it? She's just trying to help. And she is one of the few persons who had been _there_. She'll understand."

Julian sighed. "I know. I guess I owe her an apology…" He hesitated. "It's just… she's so young. She seems barely old enough for working as a counselor. I know that she's Dax and that she has eight lifetimes of experience to draw upon. I know that Starfleet promoted her to the rank of lieutenant because of those eight previous lives. But she isn't Jadzia. And it was Jadzia who was there one year ago – not Ezri." He shook his head. "It's hard to explain."

"She's still Dax."

"Yeah, I know that she's Dax…" Julian stared miserably into the middle distance. "…at least intellectually. It would have been hard to discuss these things, even with Jadzia. But with Ezri it's almost impossible. I mean she's nice and understanding and I like her a lot. But… she's still a stranger to me. And what happened last year is something I'd rather not discuss with someone who hadn't been there." It was hard not to notice that the young man was deliberately avoiding Evans' name. But could he really blame him?

The chief took a deep sigh. "So why do you think the memory's so suddenly come back?"

Julian shook his head. "I have not the slightest idea." Then he rubbed at his eyes. "Perhaps it was just the similarity of the situation. I don't know. Perhaps I'm just stressed. I haven't thought of what happened last year in months. I was one of the hardest times in my life. But I'm over it. I put those things behind me… At least I thought so."

"And you're sure it's not Sloan or Section 31?"

"If it were, I wouldn't be here to have this discussion now," Julian said with a bitterness that made O'Brien wince. "It just isn't Sloan's style."

"So there isn't really much we can do but wait for whatever Odo can find out."

"I wouldn't put my hopes up."

O'Brien regarded Bashir for a long time. There were deep shadows under his eyes, and a haunted look that hadn't been there before. He couldn't help wondering how much he had slept in the last few days. He knew that he'd worked a lot of double shifts lately, and even more since their strange guest had shown up on their premises.

"You know, we were able to make some progress after you left. Here," O'Brien suddenly changed topics, trying to draw the young man out of his brooding. He took a quick look around, just to make sure that the other guests were out of earshot, before he set a padd on the table. "You'd better had a look at this…"

Without much enthusiasm, Julian took the small device, flicking it on with one thumb. "Another fragment?"

"Yes, but this here is different!" The chief leaned forward. "It was in the same data file as the last entry. But originally it was created under another registry."

Julian looked up, perplexed. "I think you just lost me."

"It means that this entry here was created at a different time than the previous one – most likely in another database. It's only been transferred to the ship's computer later and imported into the log we found on the alien ship. And judging from what's written there, I would bet any latinum that it's part of a diary, or a personal log or something."

Julian's eyes fell back on the padd.

_Ash is falling from the sky. It covers the fields and woods, and our streets and homes. Some say that the strangers are the cause for it. But no one knows for sure. There are rumors. Ugly rumors about ugly things happening in the east. They say that some of the leaders of the eastern provinces lost their nerves and finally saw the strangers for what they really are. They panicked and tried to rid themselves of the influences of the new galactic order. They were said to have called upon the strength of the gods to grant them the power to free their land of the disease from the sky. But our gods forsake them. They say that not one member of the old Council of the East has seen today's dawn. I shudder at the mere thought of the times that are lying ahead of us._

"From when is this?" he asked with a frown – though as O'Brien had hoped his interest was sparked.

"I have no idea but judging from its content I'd say that it's an entry from some time before the attack mentioned in the last clip happened. Though it's hard to tell how much earlier. It could be weeks, or months, or years."

"So you think, there really was an attack from the outside?" Julian looked up from the padd.

O'Brien threw him a meaningful look. "After everything you've just read, wouldn't you? Just leaves the question where our friend was from and who _they_ were?"

"The bit about the galactic order reminds me of the Dominion…" the young man bit his lower lip, staring at the few lines on the padd as if to find the solution to their guests sudden appearance there.

"It would make sense. They've been around for a long time. And our guest is from the other side of the wormhole. It's their territory."

Julian blew out a long breath. "Another world that was just standing in the way of their intergalactic raid… I wonder what happened to them. What about the other entries?" For a moment he just looked like the young, naïve, adventure seeking doctor again.

O'Brien threw him a triumphant smile. "The computer is trying to piece it back together. I don't know how much we'll be able to restore. But if we're lucky, we'll know in a few more days."

"That's…" Julian began, just to be interrupted by the familiar chirp of his combadge. "Lamara to Dr. Bashir."

The young man paused, and grimaced as if to say work never slept. "Dr. Bashir here. What is it Lamara?"

A short pause. "Doctor, I think you'd better come…" She sounded anxious, almost frightened, her voice hushed as if she didn't want whoever was with her to hear her words. With a dark frown, Julian stood. It was utterly unlike Lamara to call him in his hours off duty. She wouldn't disturb him unless it was an absolute emergency.

"I'm on my way," he said as he already set about heading for the exit. As if in an afterthought he turned, and threw an apologetic look at O'Brien. "Sorry, Miles! I'll be right back."

Another moment later he was already on his way. O'Brien watched him make his way through the busy bustle around them until he had vanished out of sight, wondering yet again how long Julian would be able to go on like this, always on the ready, taking care of everyone else but himself, before something really bad was going to happen.

* * *

"Lamara?"

When he walked into the infirmary, he was greeted by a sight he had least of all expected. The first thing he saw was his Bajoran assistant, turning in a hurry to him, as if she had already been waiting anxiously for his arrival.

"Doctor, I'm glad you're here." A wave of relief sprang from Lamara's eyes as she saw him.

"Lamara? What happened?" He demanded, slightly uncertain. His first thought had been that of an emergency with their alien patient, though if that had been the case, Lamara would have already filled him in. Everything around them looked quiet and alright, there was no one of O'Brien's maintenance crew waiting with cut fingers or burned hands for his attention. There wasn't even anyone else in the room. But then his gaze fell on the adjacent room where their patient was still sleeping inside the bluish glow of the stasis recovery unit - and it was then that he noticed the shadow that was standing right next to it.

"He suddenly showed up and said he wanted to see the patient. I told him that it's impossible but he just went in there anyway," she blurted out. "When he wouldn't leave, I told him I would call Security, but he just ignored me. I didn't know what to do."

He patted her arm. "It's okay. I'll take care of it," he said gently, already on his way toward the newcomer and his patient.

When he entered the small room set apart from the rest of the infirmary, the other person seemed oblivious to his presence, still busy with running a tricorder over the alien body, and punching commands into a padd at his side.

"Excuse me, sir…" Julian tried politely, not sure what to think of the sudden visitor.

A moment later, the other man suddenly turned.

"Senator Remak?" Julian asked half-astounded, half-suspicious. "What are you doing here?" His eyes darted from the senator to the alien and back. Only now he realized the different medical devices strewn over the table next to the bed.

As if he hadn't spoken at all, the senator turned back to whatever he had been doing until moments ago. As if Julian wasn't worth the bother to lose precious time over unnecessary small talk. Julian felt his initial worry being replaced by slight irritation. He hadn't expected to see the senator so soon again.

"I'm performing a scan on our guest," the elder Romulan finally said in a voice as if it was the most natural thing. Either he wasn't aware that he was overstepping his limits here – even though Julian doubted it – or he didn't really care. He was studying the tricorder readouts with the single-mindedness of a man who didn't tolerate others to get into his way.

"But I already did that," Julian offered, giving the older man a chance to explain himself.

"I know." The senator said with his back still turned on the young doctor, making Julian want to go over, grab his shoulder and spin him around. He doubted, though, that Sisko would be very appreciative. He knew that none of them liked the senator very much but laying hand on a Romulan official wouldn't be the smartest move – no matter if he had every reason for it or not.

"You could have asked for the results," he offered instead, trying to keep his temper low.

The senator pocketed the tricorder. And for the first time, he really turned his attention to the station's CMO and looked him straight in the eye. Julian felt a shudder at the cold hatred he saw there. He couldn't help but remember the staff meeting with Remak the day before. He'd already known then that the senator didn't think much of Sisko's crew, or of the Federation and their way of doing things – but the open disrespect in his voice now was even worse.

"And you would have given them to me?" It wasn't really a question. Without haste, the senator started to gather his things.

"He's still my patient and I think you'll understand that as a doctor he is in _my_ care right now."

The Romulan sneered. "Your _patient_," he spat the word out as if it had a filthy taste. "Please, Doctor, whom are you trying to fool? The creature is more dead than alive, and it is only a matter of time until even your Federation technology won't be able to do much for him anymore." The senator threw a quick glance down at the alien. "We should do our best to bring him back to consciousness to see what he knows."

Julian didn't believe his ears. "If we did that, he would die before he could even utter a word."

"He's already dying. It doesn't make a difference." The senator's eyes took on a darker color. "You don't need to be a doctor to tell that in his present state he's of no use to anyone. And you would agree if you had enough common sense behind your presumptuous human archaic hippocratic oath."

It was like a slap in the face. Julian felt his cheeks flush in spite of himself. "Senator, I understand your concern about the war with the Dominion and your people's safety. But in the future I'd appreciate it if you could inform me if you want anything from our guest. He's my patient and I'm still his doctor. As long as he's on this station, he's in my care."

Remak didn't so much as blink. His face was unmoving as if it were carved out of stone. Then his mouth twisted in contempt. "Please, Doctor, this is not about your petty human pride. This is a far more important issue. What he might have to say could affect our all security. Say nothing of the outcome of the war."

"That's ridiculous," Julian shook his head. "He's been out there in a dying stasis chamber for several hundreds of years. He can't tell you anything about the Dominion – or the Vorta – or the Jem'Hadar. At least nothing about their current strategic decisions, anyway." He met the senator's gaze squarely. The other man held his defiant stare for several tension-filled moments, before he finally snorted and headed for the exit.

He strode wordlessly through the small room, until he came to a halt next to Julian. Without turning he said: "Just one advice, Doctor. Believe me when I say that you do not wish to make an enemy of me." It were his only words but they hung in the air like thunder. Then the senator left the room without another look back, heading toward the exit of the infirmary.

Watching the senator's shadow disappear out onto the Promenade, he leaned his head back, and took a deep breath. God, he had neither the time nor the energy for this. He rubbed his temple and blew out a long breath, trying to gather his thoughts. Some small voice in the back of his head told him that the senator would be back sooner or later. But right now he felt too emotionally drained to worry much about anything. He walked over to where the alien lay still unmoving and wrapped into layers of blue light under the stasis force field. Looking into the decayed face that was hardly visible under the blue glow, he couldn't help but remember the few words he read.

_Ash is falling from the sky. It covers the fields and woods, and our streets and homes. Some say that the strangers are the cause for it. But no one knows for sure._

And for the first time, he saw the stranger for what he really was. Another human being. A man whose life had once been filled with dreams and worries, with hopes and fears. He tried to imagine the lifeless body before him full of energy and life again, sitting in front of a computer interface to record the few words they were now so laboriously trying to extract from the dying ship's database. Tried to lay the image the computer had offered him over the black dotted, olive skin of his face.

Finally, he shook his head, trying to pull himself together. Almost absently his hand went to the security switch on the side of the bed, just to make sure that Remak hadn't meddled with the force field emitter. When his fingers brushed against the cool metal, he suddenly felt a jolt of pain. And subsequently jerked his hand back, more in surprise than in pain.

He had cut himself. A thin gash went over two of his fingertips, leaving a fine red cut that was rapidly filling with blood.

Frowning, he stared at his injured hand. Then back at the security switch. He needed a second to make the connection. How on earth had he managed to cut himself? Numbly, he regarded the blood welling from the gash, the red liquid running down his fingertips in thin red streaks until his whole vision was filled with the same crimson red. He suddenly heard his own heart pounding like drums in his head. For a moment, everything else was driven from his mind.

When he lifted his gaze, the infirmary was gone.

He was standing on an open field, the sky above him a dark black velvet. The earth down at his feet a collection of shades of brown, black and grey.

And then he saw it.

Something was rushing toward him in the distance. A streak of red on the horizon. And within it a yellow, so bright that it was almost white. Within seconds it had reached him.

He squeezed his eyes shut, instinctively ducking his head and throwing his arms up to cover his face as the red swept over him, drowning him in its floods.

With a gasp, his eyes snapped open.

The inert, decaying alien face in the once again quiet infirmary was the last thing he saw, before the floor came rushing up to meet him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Here you go! Chapter 04^^ We're finally getting to the point where things slowly start to get out of hands... XD**

**Hope you'll like it!**

* * *

**- Chapter 04 –**

_7th day of the fourth moon._

_We brought in the crops from the fields when the sky suddenly turned red. It was like a bad omen and we both knew that something was going to happen. Between the clouds, the slender forms of the Watchers were looming like dark icicles in the distance. Leana was not taking it well. It took me some time to convince her that everything was going to be fine. The Ministry would protect us. Our gods would protect us. We just needed to have faith. There was nothing we could do anyway. Najed was soon going to be part of the new galactic order, it was only a matter of time. It all happened so far away anyway. All the talking, all the treaties, all the meetings between the religious and political leaders. And here down on Najed, life of the common people went on. We needed to get the crops in, now that my father was no longer able to help due to his bad health. I wasn't going to stay for long. My job was calling me back to our star base, and I wanted to get it all done with as long as I was still able to help. Leana took my hand and just nodded. She has always been strong, and I'm sure she'll be okay as long as I am gone. We both hurried to complete our work before dusk. Ignoring the red sky that was covering Najed like a bloody shroud of death._

* * *

"…ctor."

A voice.

"Doctor Bashir."

Someone was calling his name.

"Can you hear me?"

He blinked, and slowly open his eyes.

The first thing that came into his view was the worried face of his Bajoran assistant. The second the bright lighting of the infirmary's ceiling behind her that was shining down on him from an utterly unaccustomed angle. Wondering what had happened, he swallowed. His mind felt like in a fog and he had trouble finding a clear thought.

"Lamara?" he managed in confusion, blinking again against the bright light until his eyes started to focus. His mouth felt try and his tongue as if it were glued to the inside of his mouth. Only now he realized that he was actually lying on one of the biobeds and that his nurse was standing at his side, an expression of genuine relief on her face when she saw him finally open his eyes. The realization made every alarm bell in his mind start to ring. He was a doctor. He wasn't supposed to be lying on his own biobed. "What happened?" he groaned, trying to remember anything before darkness had claimed him.

"You tell us," another voice said at his side. When he turned his head in its direction, the familiar figure of the Cardassian tailor stood on the other side of the bed, looking down at him with an unusual tinge of worry. "Garak?" he frowned, now even more confused than before. "What are _you_ doing here?"

The Cardassian arched one brow. "I couldn't help but notice the foul mood our dear friend the senator was in when he stormed out of here with a step as if a herd of angry Kula birds was on his heels and so I decided to see what had happened," he offered with a quick look toward Bashir's nurse. "But it seems as if the timing couldn't have been better."

Lamara shook her head. "I was watching the senator leave when I suddenly heard something like a thud in the other room. When I went to see what was wrong, you were lying unconscious on the floor," she said, knitting her brow. "That was when Mr. Garak here came in."

When he tried to sit up, Lamara lent him a helping hand. He winced at the vertigo that came washing over him as soon as he made it into a sitting position, making him wonder if he had bumped his head somewhere when he had fainted. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath until the strange queasy feeling in his stomach started to fade. When he opened his eyes again, he noticed that apart from Lamara and Garak the infirmary was as deserted and quiet as he remembered it. How long had he been unconscious? Judging from Garak's words it couldn't be more than a few minutes. Gradually his mind started to clear and he dimly remembered standing next to the alien patient, thinking about their strange guest and the log entry when suddenly the ground was rushing up to meet him and everything went black.

"I wanted to check what Senator Remak had been doing in here before I interrupted him," Julian began wearily, piecing together the fragments of what he remembered. "He made some scans or tests and when I told him that he needed my permission to see our guest and that he couldn't just come and go as he pleases, he wasn't very appreciative. He packed his things and left." He still felt a shudder at the cold, piercing stare and the barely masked disapproval in the senator's eyes, making him wonder if he had done anything that warranted the open hostility in the senator's gaze. "I don't remember much of what happened after that," he shook his head. Almost absently, he brought his hand up to his face to rub his tired eyes – and suddenly stopped.

For several seconds he stared at his right hand, at his fingers right before his eyes, until the realization finally hit him. He swallowed.

"I was checking the stasis field emitter," he slowly began, still eying his right hand warily, "and I only remember that I cut myself." He still stared at the tips of his fingers but there was no gash, not even a scratch to see. Instead of the crimson blood welling from the wound, his skin was smooth and intact again. As if in response to his unspoken question, Lamara's brow furrowed in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"I…" Julian opened his mouth, but suddenly hesitated, not even sure why. He had cut himself. He was sure of it. His right index and middle finger had been bleeding. He had felt the pain. But now everything was fine as if nothing of it had ever happened. And judging from his assistant's questioning gaze, he knew that she definitely hadn't treated the wound while he had been unconscious. Had he only imagined cutting himself? Was that possible?

There was something else he remembered. Now that he thought about it, he was sure that before blackness had come to claim him, he'd seen _something_. He had been standing in the middle of nowhere, the earth below his feet black and scorched and cracked like that of a dessert. Up in the distance, something big and red had raced toward him, something shifting and moving, like some living thing. The memory made a cold chill course through him and the fine hairs of his arms bristle up. Had he imagined that as well?

"Doctor? Is everything all right?" Lamara asked with a quick, unsure look at Garak.

Snapping from his stupor, Julian looked up, and quickly shook his head. "Never mind," he said, balling his hand into a fist before he pushed himself from the bed and came to stand on unsteady feet. Somehow the room just wouldn't stop spinning.

"Are you sure you should be getting up already?" Garak eye him suspiciously, catching his arm to steady him.

"Only to get back to my own bed," Julian attempted nonchalantly, even though he knew that he sounded barely convincing to his own ears. "I know that I've been under a lot of stress lately and that I haven't slept as much as I probably should have. It's nothing to worry about. Nothing a little sleep won't cure." He threw his assistant a grateful smile. "Thank you, Lamara."

"Shall inform someone? Like Captain Sisko or Colonel Kira?" She still watched him with an expression as if she didn't think it a good idea to release him just yet. He couldn't blame her. He probably wouldn't have released himself. Not after he'd fainted without reason just to have his assistant and his friend find him doubled over on the floor. But luckily, he was the doctor here.

"Ah, no, it's okay," he tried to dispel her worry, offering another short but encouraging smile. "I feel better already. As I said, it's only the lack of sleep and nothing a full night of sleep won't cure."

"Then, Doctor, would you mind if I accompany you? Just to make sure that you don't decide on taking a nap somewhere in the corridor halfway to your quarters," Garak offered with an enigmatic smile of his own. "There _is_ something I wanted to discuss with you anyway."

Unsure, Julian nodded, wondering what had really brought Garak to come to the infirmary in the first place. Or why Garak suddenly seemed to take an unusual interest in the Romulan senator.

"Do you think you can check on our patient and let me know when his condition is changing?" Julian quickly addressed his nurse. He knew that she probably wouldn't call him until there was a real emergency – either with their guest or Senator Remak – but after everything that just happened he didn't have much choice. He knew that he needed some rest. Now. Before something really bad happened.

Lamara's answer was a smile. "Don't worry, Doctor. I'll keep you up to date on every improvement our guest makes."

Julian nodded, and despite himself he threw another look back toward the adjacent room with their alien patient. The alien was barely visible from his vantage but he kept staring in its direction nevertheless. He couldn't help wondering what had happened. But he intended to find out. As soon as he was alone.

* * *

Chief O'Brien was sitting at the small table in Quark's, holding his mug between steady hands, wondering for the umpteens time if it was just his imagination or if the place seemed more crowded and filled with more excited laughter than usual. The bar counter was occupied with amiably chatting guest, and even the tables at the far end of the room up to the second level were full with happily drinking crewmates, giving the whole place the rare aura of almost a sanctuary. As if the world was perfectly intact and everyone was just having a good old time at the local space pub. He chuckled, wondering how Quark managed to maintain this kind of carefree atmosphere when beyond the threshold of this little Ferengi empire the world was slowly but surely rotating toward doom. But at least in the few hours they spent within these walls, utterly detached from the hardness of real life, they were coming together just like in old times. He had to acknowledge that for once, Quark was doing a perfect job. Even if everything around them seemed to stand still, life was going on. You just needed a reminder every now and then.

"Hey there," a sudden voice drew him from his thoughts. "Everything okay?"

When he looked up, Ezri was standing next to him. "Why so dark, Chief? Anything happened?" She didn't wait for his invitation as she sat down next to him, folding both hands in her lap and having a quick look around as if she was searching for something. Or someone.

"You just missed him," O'Brien offered in response to her unspoken question. "He's been called away by an emergency."

Ezri's face fell. "Oh," she gave back, a little embarrassed, before she looked up with a wry smile. "Is it that obvious?" She leaned back and crossed her arms over her slender chest. "I just thought that a little talking would do him good. I mean, it's hard not to notice how much the incident in his quarters is getting to him. I… just didn't want to leave it with our conversation in the science lab."

O'Brien took a sip of his drink. For a short moment, he thought about telling her about what Julian had confided in him earlier but eventually he decided against it. If Julian wanted to talk about it to her, he'd do it. He wouldn't be helping very much if he rushed things. "He's your friend, it's only natural that you're worried about him," he offered instead.

Ezri seemed to mull his words over. "Does…" she hesitated, "…does he look tired to you recently?"

"Why do you ask?"

She quickly shook her head. "It's nothing. Never mind. I just thought that he had that haunted look about him. Like if something was bothering him. Like…" She seemed to search for the right words. "You know, like back last year when that thing with Evans happened."

O'Brien almost choked on his drink.

"He's not talking about it, but you can see that there's something bothering him. And the last time he said everything was fine even though it wasn't, it ended in a complete disaster. I just don't want him to suffer. He's gone through so much already," she sighed. "First he was abducted and interned by the Dominion while a shape shifter took his place among his friends. Then he had to live through everyone finding out about his genetically engineered background, just to be targeted by Section 31 because of that genetically engineered background – and then he has to find out that the people he's always believed to be his parents don't even share a drop of blood with him, and that his real father has abandoned him in his childhood. And when they both find out the truth, his father is just doing the same mistake all over again." Her eyes were directed into the middle distance while she spoke, her voice all at once soft with emotions. For a short moment, O'Brien wondered if it was really Ezri who spoke about those events in a past.

"I just want to help. I know that he can be stubborn at times and that it's easier to make a wall talk to you than Julian if he doesn't want to. But still, it won't keep me from trying." She suddenly looked up, a faint smile spreading across her lips. And from one moment to the other, she was Ezri again. "Sorry, Miles, I know that it needs some getting used to," she grimaced, as if she had guessed his thoughts.

Before he could form a reply, another voice drifted over to them.

"Chief, Dax!" When he turned, he saw Odo and Colonel Kira making their way through the bustling crowd toward their table. The Colonel was wearing one of those long blue dresses that were considered fashionable about four centuries ago and the bright smile on her face left no doubt where the two of them were headed.

"Some evening at Vic's?" he greeted them, raising his voice over the happy din in the bar.

Kira came closer, holding Odo's hand in hers. He rarely saw them showing their affection for each other in public. But perhaps the easygoing and happy atmosphere around here was just having its desired effect on its guests.

"You two want to join us? Vic said his band has that new song they have started playing," the Colonel started, but with a look in the young Trill's face, she suddenly frowned. "Did anything happen?" And as if in an afterthought she added, flatly: "Let me guess: the senator?"

Ezri laughed, and quickly shook her head. "No, it's nothing important." She flashed an awkward smile. "Just a patient who needs counseling but doesn't want to be counseled." She grimaced. "But the senator would be next on the list."

Kira chuckled humorlessly. "He's getting on everyone's nerve. An hour ago I saw Captain Sisko throwing things around in his office while speaking to some Federation admiral and that was the moment when I knew it was time to call it a day."

O'Brien snorted. "He's the most arrogant person I've ever met. Is it only my imagination or is he consciously making an effort to show us how little he likes the idea of the Federation and the Romulans working together? What's he doing here anyway? We already have our Romulan liaison officer. I don't see what business could have brought Remak to the station. "

Kira arched one brow. "I know what you mean, Chief. And the problem is that our dear senator can be a real pain in…"

"He's an ulcer if you ask me," another voice suddenly interrupted.

"Quark?"

The Ferengi bartender was standing next to them, a tray with several drinks in one hand and an expression on his face that hovered somewhere between sour and gloomy. He quickly started to place the drinks on the table. "This one's on the house."

O'Brien frowned. "What happened, Quark? Inherited a latinum mine?"

The Ferengi shot him a sharp look, before he shook his head. "This senator of yours," he said nonchalantly, "I would keep a constant eye on him, if I were you. Mind my words, he's a viper!"

Odo folded both arms across his chest. "What do you mean?"

Quark straightened and threw a quick look around, as if he wanted to make sure that his next words weren't met by wrong ears. Then he leaned forward again, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "He's making investigations."

Kira frowned but her interest was piqued. "What do you mean by investigations? What kind of investigations?"

"Believe me, Colonel, not very pleasant ones."

"Quark, can you be a little more precisely?" Ezri joined.

"He's poking his nose in business that isn't his. He's fretting around," Quark said in a dark tone, for once completely serious. "He's come to the bar to ask me about detailed information about DS9. Information that is none of his business."

"And you've given it to him?" Odo stated drily, watching Quark like a snake would watch a rabbit.

"Of course not! What do you think of me?" The Ferengi exclaimed.

"I think that you're a Ferengi who doesn't let an opportunity slip. That's what I think." Odo gave back with a snort.

"Well, Odo, you're wrong," Quark shook his head, "or would you bite the hand that's feeding you?"

"Only, if the other hand is feeding you more."

"Stop bickering!" Ezri interrupted. And turning to Quark, she sighed. "What kind of information did he ask for?"

"Information that doesn't appear in the official files. Information about people. About their weaknesses, or anything he can use against them. In other words: He's plotting something, I'm telling you!"

"And why are you telling us all this?" Kira frowned, a look of genuine puzzlement on her face, as if the words Quark and generous weren't supposed to be used in the same context.

Quark sighed as if it were obvious. "Because, Colonel, I have a vested interest that things remain as they are now. And if you ask me, you should have a watchful eye on our new guest."

With that he turned, heading back toward the bar without another word, quickly disappearing into the bustling crowd around them.

"Do you think it's true?" Ezri asked after a moment of silence, exchanging looks with her three friends.

Odo shook his head, absently staring in the direction of the bar counter where Quark was again busy serving drinks. "I don't know. But I intend to find out."

* * *

Coming back to the bar, he dumped the empty tray on the counter and sighed. He'd done his duty. Now it was up to them to act. He'd warned them. Moogie only knew why he even bothered.

Making sure that his guests were happy, he took a glass from the shelf behind his back and the bottle of Aldorian brandy, he's stored below the counter for special occasions. Then he cast a quick look around before he made his way for the back part of the bar, disappearing quickly into the adjoining smaller storage room. When he entered, Broik was shooting up like a rocket from whatever he'd been doing in the corner of the room, looking hastily around until he noticed Quark with the bottle in the doorway.

"It's only me, Broik. And mind my saying, you'd better not look like someone plotting to steal the Grand Nagus' scepter or we'll all get in trouble sooner or later. You can tell a mile off that you're doing something illegal," he grumbled but without any real anger. Placing the bottle and the glass on one of the crates, he quickly came closer.

"Let me see, you idiot. How long are you going to need for this? Today's the night. We only have one chance and that we're going to take. Now step aside and let a real pro get to work!" He shooed the other Ferengi away, rolling up his sleeves to have a look at his new masterpiece.

The small box was as black as the night, with dark, almost glowing emeralds dotting the black in a strange, almost sinister pattern. It vaguely looked like one of the orbs of the Prophets, only that it was much smaller and much sturdier than its Bajoran brothers. And the orbs never had actual emeralds on it. He'd used a neurocalculator to estimate the value of the little green stones and what the scanner had told him at that time had made his ears ring with the sound of latinum.

The stones alone were worth a little fortune.

He'd never seen anything like it. The stones were of such a pure quality that only two of them were enough to buy his own moon. Not that he needed one. It was only a figure of speech. But it was doubtless that the small box would bring him wealth and latinum – and if he somehow managed to pry it open, he was sure that another miracle would be waiting inside for him. The only problem was that it didn't move. They'd tried to open it for the better half of this day but without any remarkable success so far. He couldn't say that Broik was particularly intelligent but he did have the valuable ability to pick even the hardest of locks. The only problem was that even Broik seemed to have a hard time picking _this_ particular lock. And unfortunately, they were slowly but surely running out of time.

Quark stretched his arms in front of him. "Now let's see. How can we get this thing open?"

He ran a hand along its sides, searching for some kind of opening mechanism. Minutes passed as he examined the box closer, turning it upside down and weighing it in his hands, shaking it and listening attentively for any sound that would tell him what was inside. After several more unsuccessful tries to determine its content, he let it sink, eying the small box in his hands suspiciously.

"Brother?"

The sudden voice next to his ear, made him jump out of his skin, and the small box slip from his hands. Whirling around, he almost feared to see the Constable in the doorway, putting a quick end to all his hopes and dreams of a brighter future, but to his relief no one else than Rom was standing next to him, a foolish grin on his face as he held up a phase scanner in one hand. "I brought the scanner you asked for!"

"Rom, you idiot!" Quark exploded. "You scared me to death!" And another second later, his eyes were searching for the small box he'd held until only seconds before. "Look what you've done!"

The box was lying on the storage room floor, cracked in two like a nutshell. From the inside, something like an ancient paper scroll was spilling onto the floor, making Quark's heart beat faster. Hastily, he bent down to examine the find closer, retrieving the black, emerald-framed box with both hands and setting it gingerly back on one of the crates, before he took up the old paper scroll that had tumbled from its inside.

"I'm so sorry, brother," Rom behind him babbled, coming closer to see if everything was okay.

Quark silenced him with a wave of his hand, staring at the paper scroll in his hands. Then back at the box. But apparently, the paper scroll had been the only thing stored inside. He lifted the box and shook it, running his hand along its inside to see if there were any hidden pockets or anything else that held the fortune he'd expected to find within the box. But to his dismay, the inside was empty. And the paper scroll didn't really look like it would bring him even one strip of latinum...

"Great…" he grumbled under his breath. "Fancy outside, nothing inside." He should have known. But at least he had the box. He sighed. And turned to his brother, trying not to let this setback dampen his mood. "Thanks to your undeserved luck we don't need the scanner anymore," he snorted, retrieving the dark box and safely putting it back into its hiding place among the crates. "Bring that scanner back to where you got it. And prepare the holosuites for our guests this evening," was all he said. Shooing Broik with him out of the room, he stalked back out toward the bar, leaving his brother standing clueless in the middle of the storage room.

"You're welcome, brother."

* * *

"So, what did you want to talk to me about?"

They were walking along the deserted corridor of the habitat ring toward Julian's quarters. Even though it wasn't that late an hour, they hadn't met any other residents on their way, making the station appear dark and abandoned.

"It's about our dear friend Senator Remak."

Julian frowned. "What about him?"

"I was just curious why a reputable man like Senator Remak would come to the station all in person even though he's never taken much interest in diplomacy before," Garak said meaningfully as they walked side by side along the corridor. "He's been an adamant politician on Romulus, and as far as I can tell he's pulling a few very strong strings at his home world. But he's never been one for showing a greater interest in foreign affairs. Which is why I took the liberty to do some investigation work on my own."

"You spied on him?"

Garak flashed a smile but ignored the question. "I did find out some very interesting facts. Did you know that the senator had some strong relations with the Tal Shiar some ten years ago?"

Julian shrugged. "Oh, it wouldn't actually surprise me. Tell me one high senator or politician on Romulus who is not involved with the Tal Shiar…"

"However," Garak went on, "even though I found his involvement with the Tal Shiar quite fascinating, it doesn't seem like the real reason for the senator to come to the station. In fact, I wasn't able to find any clear evidence that would explain the senator's sudden interest in external politics and the war with the Dominion at all. But I did find something else quite interesting in his history."

Garak suddenly stopped, and so did Julian. "Our dear senator had a son and some lovely grandchildren, living in a Romulan colony not far away from the Romulan Empire. You might have heard of the name, it was a colony in the Arleha system."

Julian shook his head, puzzled. "But… to the best of my recollection the Arleha system is under Dominion and Cardassian control now."

"Exactly." Garak's eyes widened for a moment as if Julian had hit the point. "The colony is not only now in enemy territory, you'd better say it doesn't exist any longer. Not after the Cardassian assault about two years ago. They've not only taken possession of the Arleha system, they have also annihilated every living being that was standing in their way."

Julian's face grew dark when the realization dawned on him. "Oh my god… the senator's family?"

"Had the bad luck to be in the wrong place at the wrong time," Garak concluded, gesturing for Bashir to walk on.

"So you tell me, that the senator's family was killed during the war? But what does that have to do with his coming to DS9?"

"Oh, you could of course consider it a change of heart. After the senator's lost his family, he's awakened to the danger the Dominion and its allies pose to the Alpha Quadrant, thus taking a greater interest in external politics, trying to take revenge by allying himself with the Federation to banish the Dominion out of the Alpha Quadrant."

"Somehow I can't shake the feeling that you don't share this particular point of view."

"Believe me, Doctor, revenge is an effective incentive for a person's actions but to take revenge on a whole people is a little bit out of scale. I don't think the senator's immediate attention is on the Dominion. It might have been the Dominion and the Cardassians who destroyed the colony but you should know best that the human psyche needs something more tangible a person's feelings can be projected on."

"Such as?" Julian asked warily.

Garak shrugged, and for the first time Julian though he saw something like hesitation in his friend's face. "I wish I knew. But believe me, it's not a coincidence that the senator showed up on DS9 that much I can tell you." Garak shot a quick look up and down the corridor, before he lowered his voice. "And until we know what brought Remak all the long way to the station, I would suggest you keep an eye on our friend. And watch your back."

Julian held Garak's eyes for a short moment, before he blew out a long breath, and finally nodded. "Okay, I see." He'd put the senator on his watchlist. Right after the dark shadow that was obviously trying to kill him. "Thank you Garak."

The Cardassian smiled. "You're welcome, Doctor." And a moment later, he nodded. "Here we are. I suppose you can find your way from here alone."

Julian flashed a weak smile as they parted. For a short moment, he watched Garak leave, mulling his words over, before he shook his head and entered his quarters.

He was greeted by the usual quiet of quarters that looked pretty much the same as he remembered them. No sign of any intruder, or someone having gone through his belongings while he'd been away. Everything was right in place. He sighed. Not that his attacker had seemed interested in anything else than Julian himself.

He sauntered reluctantly over to the couch in front of the viewport, absently watching the many pin-prick seized stars in the distance. Perhaps he should just have something for dinner, shower and go to bed. His next shift was due to begin at 0600 and he could use every minute of rest he got. Especially after what just happened in the infirmary. He ran a hand over his tired eyes.

But first, there was something he needed to check.

Decisively, he straightened, strode across the room and opened the drawer next to the entrance to his bedroom. He rummaged through its contents until he found the medical tricorder and the hypo he'd stored there. He placed the medical devices on top of the drawer, searching again for some new vials for the hypo.

He knew that Lamara had most probably already run a check on him – she'd have never agreed to release him if she hadn't been thoroughly sure that he was alright – but he needed to see it with his own eyes. That everything was okay with him. And that he was not about to lose his mind.

First the attack in his quarters. Then the hallucination. And then his fainting from one second to the other. Say nothing of the constant feeling of being watched. Or the overwhelming, almost irrational fear he'd felt during the attack in his quarters.

He loaded the new vial into the hypo, striding over back to the couch. He'd just run a short test on himself. See that everything was alright. About to flick his medical tricorder open, a reflection in the glass of the viewport suddenly caught his eyes. Unsure, he stopped. For a short moment, he just stared at where he'd thought he'd seen the reflection of a movement, squinting. He almost dismissed it as a trick his mind was playing on him. Until he suddenly saw it again. And froze.

A face.

The thought hit him like an electric jolt. And made his pulse speed up.

Someone was in his quarters.

He spun around, almost dropping the tricorder in his hand.

And the instant he saw the man standing in the middle of his elsewise deserted quarters, as if he had just popped out of nowhere, he felt like he'd been plunged into a bottomless abyss. For a short moment, he couldn't breathe, his eyes widening in utter disbelief. He stared at the stranger in front of him, his heart hammering painfully against his rib cage while his mind refused to believe what his eyes were telling him.

But there was no mistaking him.

Before him stood a man, who had inflicted so much pain on him that he would probably never be able to forgive him. A man, he dreaded as much as he tried to forget him. Someone he'd never thought he'd face again. Seeing his worst nightmare come yet again to life, Julian was so utterly unprepared that it was all he could do to stare paralyzed at the man towering like a dark shadow before him.

"Dad?"

He'd never thought he would call him that again. But the word, tinged with the bitter note of disbelief and fear, tumbled out of his mouth before he was even aware of it.

The other man stood unmoving, watching him out of impassive, gray eyes. He hadn't changed. He still radiated the same aura of austere authority, his hair the same black-gray as he remembered it. He even wore his captain uniform. Like the last time he'd seen him almost a year ago. And he was probably still the most terrifying sight Julian had ever seen.

"What…" Julian began in bewilderment, already about to ask _What are you doing here?,_ when the rational part of his mind kicked in. He swallowed. No matter what his eyes wanted him to believe, it couldn't be real. Evans was supposed to be in a penalty colony back home. There was no way he could have come to the station, least of all sneak unseen into his quarters.

So that left only one explanation.

"You're not real," Julian stated flatly. Though the realization brought no relief. Because he knew that if Evans couldn't be here in real, that only meant that whatever had been in his quarters last night was back to haunt him again.

Evans regarded him for another long, silent moment, before his face suddenly drew into a ghostly smile. It was an eerie smile, something that made a cold shiver run down Julian's spine and his stomach turn at the same time. Then the older captain took a step forward, making Julian instinctively back away. He bumped awkwardly into the couch in his back, stumbling to keep his balance, at the same time not severing eye contact with the older captain who had so suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

"But I'm here, in flesh and blood," Evans grinned at him in a way that made the blood freeze in Julian's veins. The man before him looked like Evans. And he spoke like Evans. But something was not right. He looked like an animated husk. Like a puppet which was only moving because someone pulled its strings. The smile on the other man's masklike face was almost pleasant, giving Julian the creeps. He continued to come slowly closer, as if he had every time in the world.

"No!" Julian almost shouted, feeling his composure shatter in a hundred of pieces. This here was even worse than the night before. Last time it had been something dark and faceless. But this time it was Evans. Evans of all people! Why had it to be Evans?

"You're not real. You can't be here. None of this is real!" Julian didn't dare take his eyes off the man, at the same time slowly edging further away from him. He needed to get away from here. He squinted sideways toward the door of his quarters. With a sinking heart he realized that he wouldn't make it. Not if he didn't find a way to overpower Evans first. His mind raced.

"Oh, believe me, Julian, I'm as real as you are," the older man chuckled, obviously savoring the panic-stricken look on the young man's face. Then his lips drew up into a half-smile, a strange and ill-boding glint in his gray eyes. "Let me show you just how real I am."

And from one moment to the other and before Julian could even reply, Evans had suddenly closed the distance between them – so fast, Julian didn't even see him move – his arm shooting up and clamping around Julian's left wrist. Evans' fingers were cold where they touched him, piercing his skin like icy needles. The one touch alone was enough to bring back demons, Julian had thought buried a long time ago. He gasped. His throat contracting painfully. The adult, rational part of himself was screaming at him to wrench his arm out of Evans' grasp and run for his life. But it was deafened by the emotional part of his self which was paralyzed by a bone-deep fear he only knew too well. He couldn't move, his pulse speeding up to an unbearable level.

Evans yanked at his wrist, making him stretch out his arm before him as if he wanted to examine it. And from one moment to the other a searing pain shot up Julian's left arm, making him gasp and jerk violently back. Evans finally loosened his grip around the young man's arm, and it broke whatever spell had held Julian captive. He stared aghast at Evans. Then at his throbbing upper arm. A long rip went through the fabric of his uniform just above the elbow, the injured skin underneath rapidly disappearing under a surge of blood. For a dreadfully long moment, Julian was too shocked to comprehend what had just happened. Until his eyes fell on the blood-soaked scalpel in Evans' hand.

His stomach twisted. Where had he gotten that scalpel?

He had no time to wonder about the absurdity of the situation when the pain in his arm made him instinctively clutch the ugly gash with his good hand, pressing hard to stop the bleeding. His head was spinning. Blood was seeping sickeningly wet from between his fingers.

"Do you believe me know that I am real?" Evans scoffed, one corner of his mouth curled slightly up as if to say _I told you so_.

Stumbling ever backward, Julian stared in horror at Evans. At the bloody scalpel still in his hand. Then at the broad shoulders, the superior look in the older man's eyes. He felt how he slowly but surely lost control of the situation.

"Bashir to…" he tapped his combadge.

He didn't have time to call for help, when he was already grabbed by his throat and slammed hard against the bulkhead in his back. For a moment, Julian's vision was drowned in darkness, the air knocked forcefully from his lungs. Blood was rushing in his ears. His heart beating so hard he feared he might lose consciousness. When the stars slowly vanished from his vision, Evans' face was only a few inches away from his own. Desperately, he struggled to pry Evans' hands away from him, writhing and kicking to free himself. But Evans was just too strong. Much stronger than he remembered him. He felt like a puppet in his grip.

"They won't hear you, Julian," the other man stated almost matter-of-factly, as if it was the most obvious thing.

Julian struggled for breath. And finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the strong grip around his throat slightly loosened, making him convulsively gasp for air.

"This is something between only the two of us," the captain said, as he picked the young man's combadge from his unevenly rising chest. For a moment, he turned the combadge in his hands, stroking over the smooth metal as if he was lost in his memories. But then he seemed to come around and he flung the small metallic device onto the floor where it skidded out of reach.

Despite himself, Julian felt tears sting in the corner of his eyes. This was worse than anything he had ever imagined. He would have given anything if it hadn't been Evans. He felt fear slowly but surely starting to overwhelm him. He knew that he was only inches away from panicking.

"W-what…" he struggled, "what do you want from me?"

Evans brought his face so near that Julian could feel the captain's breath on his skin. "Revenge…" was all the older man finally whispered. "Revenge…"

And from moment to the other he released the young man, tossing him down to the floor, like something that was no longer worth his attention.

Julian hit the ground, rolling onto his side where he coughed desperately for breath. Before he had any chance to react, Evans grabbed him again, pulling him roughly up to his feet. Dragging him with him. Shaking him. Yelling at him.

Julian didn't understand the words. Or perhaps it weren't even words. He struggled to speak but couldn't find any breath.

That thing that looked like Evans grabbed him by his uniform, suddenly lifting him up into the air. Dangling in midair, Julian struggled to scream for help, but to no avail. The next thing he knew, he was thrown through the air. He hit the bulkhead on the other side of the room square on, crying out in pain before he slumped down to the floor. Tears were shrouding his vision. His left arm and shoulder were numb with pain, his head swimming from the blows he'd taken. He swallowed, struggling to fight back his sickness. He couldn't breathe. For a terrible moment, he just lay there slumped against the bulkhead, unable to move, Evans towering a few feet away from him with a face so still that it could have been carved out of ice.

And suddenly he moved.

"Don't…" Julian croaked, throwing his arms up in reflex, "don't come any nearer!"

He saw Evans stop, and look down on him. The captain's face was every way he remembered it. The cold, disapproving eyes. The thin lips, curled up in a contemptuous half-smile. The calculating gaze of a man who knew exactly what he wanted.

_Shoot me, Jules. Make it quick and take revenge for everything you had to go through in your childhood. But consider this: if you miss, you'll regret it. I will personally make you regret it. Everything you have ever done wrong in your life! Be sure of it, Jules. Try and I will show you that the pain from 25 years ago was just the beginning._

He tried to shut out the memory. Tried to block out the night that had been haunting him for months after the incident had happened. To block out the things Evans had done to him. The same man that was standing now in his quarters. The same man who was ready to hurt him again. Consciously. Deliberately. Knowing well how much pain his actions were going to inflict. Julian struggled desperately to keep in control, to push back the fear. To pull himself together.

But he couldn't. He felt like everything came suddenly rushing back to him. Mercilessly. So vividly as if he was living right through it again.

And with the memory came a panic, so strong that it hit him like a living thing, enveloping him until his only thought was to get away from Evans. He couldn't think of anything else. He only knew that he was going to die if he didn't. And it broke whatever smidgen of rationality had been left in Julian.

He blindly struggled to roll onto his side, trying to get back to his feet. He was so terrified of Evans' presence that his legs almost threatened to fold but somehow he managed to stand, stumbling frantically toward the doors of his quarters.

But Evans was faster. He launched himself after Julian, grabbing him and slamming him back hard against the bulkhead. The young man's legs just buckled, and both of them went down to their knees.

_Do you know what happened after that night? Of course you don't, Jules! You don't know anything, Jules! Look at yourself! Look at what you've become! _

Julian writhed and struggled, flailing out at the older captain, trying to wrench away from him. Until a sharp pain ran through his jaw as Evans' open hand connected with his cheek. Strong hands were grasping him by his shoulders and shaking him. Shaking him so violently that he almost lost consciousness.

He couldn't see. His vision was drowned in darkness. He felt like if he was going to break. But still Evans wouldn't stop.

And from one moment to the other the older captain suddenly paused, his eyes widening as he stared at the young man as if he finally realized what he was doing. Released from his vicious grip, Julian just doubled over. He would have slumped to the floor, hadn't Evans reached out in time for him, holding him where he was.

"_Please…" he managed in a voice that came out barely more than a hoarse whisper. "Dad…"_

He didn't even have the strength to fight any more. Evans almost gently cupped his face with one hand, softly tracing Julian's cheekbone with his thumb. Julian almost threw up at the touch, but was too weak and scared to move away. He squeezed his eyes shut, irregularly struggling for breath, at the same time struggling hard to hold on to consciousness. His stomach was a mess. His whole body hurt. His surroundings had run out of focus and his left arm was numb with pain, slick and wet where the bloody uniform sleeve was sticking to his skin.

"It's okay, Julian," the captain whispered, his voice all at once heavy with emotions. "It's okay, my boy."

And he gently drew him closer, suddenly embracing him with strong arms and cradling him until Julian's head came to rest on his shoulder. Evans held him close, his hand stroking affectionately over his son's black hair. Trying to sooth him. Murmuring gentle words to him. Rocking him back and forth. Completely oblivious to the terrified sob that finally forced its way up Julian's throat.

"Sssh, everything's fine. It will be over soon."

Julian's body felt as if it would break. He knew that he was shivering all over, from horror as much as from pain. He wanted to scream for help, but no tone came out. He wanted to break away from his father's touch, wanted to shout at him to leave him alone, to never touch him again. But the words just wouldn't come. Instead, he was captured by an icy horror. As if something had closed around his heart, nipping every thought of resistance in the bud.

Until a jolt of pain suddenly shot through his good arm.

He gasped and jerked, trying to pull away in reflex. But Evans grip around him was unyielding, keeping him where he was. The older captain pressed Julian's face against his shoulder, protectively, like a father who wanted to prevent his son from seeing something horrible. Something horrible that was done to _him_. Julian couldn't see what had happened. He only felt something sickeningly wet running down his good arm. Then a searing pain. He retched.

"Everything's okay, Julian," Evans whispered into his ear. "I'm here."

Another jolt of pain, as if someone had plunged something sharp into his side.

Julian cried out, his scream muffled against Evans' shoulder. He dug his fingers frantically into his father's arm, trying in vain to squirm away from the pain. To squirm away from _Evans_. Tears were running down his cheeks. He knew that he was sobbing uncontrollably by now but could do absolutely nothing against it. The older captain was still holding him tightly, speaking soothingly to him, promising him that everything was going to be alright. But Julian just felt so sick. This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be happening. This…

He jerked violently when another wave of pain coursed through him.

Making him cough for breath and struggle in his father's arms.

Pushing him past his limits with a final, shattering blow.

_He cried. Hot tears were running down his cheeks when he turned in a circle. He didn't know where he was. And he didn't know how to get home. Everything around him was so big. And strange. And foreign. There were people around him. So many people. So many colors. Everything moving and shifting and never keeping still. He cried out for his mum and dad, new tears welling in his already sore eyes. _

_He couldn't find them. He cried out in despair. Calling their names again and again. Stumbling on through the faceless crowd, searching for their familiar figures._

_And suddenly he saw him._

_Through the shifting crowd, he saw him and the tears of fear changed into tears of relief as he ran toward him._

_The other man seemed to have heard his cries for he suddenly turned and went down to his knees, as if he was ready to scoop him up as soon as he reached him._

_Sobbing, he slung his arms around his father's neck, clinging to him as if he'd never wanted to let go again. Inhaling the familiar scent that told him that everything was going to be fine. His strong hands that would protect him._

_Until his arms were roughly pulled away. _

_Instead of returning the embrace, the man was suddenly shaking him. Yelling at him. _

_He was too shocked to understand the words he was shouting at him. And he didn't have time to brace himself for the sharp slap across the face that followed._

"_How many times have I told you not to wander off on your own, Jules? How often!?"_

_He burst yet again into terrified tears. He didn't understand what he had done wrong. He cried for an embrace that would tell him that everything was going to be fine. But the embrace never came. Neither did the soothing words. Or the gentle hand stroking over his shivering back, hugging him close to tell him that everything was going to be alright. Instead, his check was burning from the slap he'd received. His chest tightening with fear. _

"_Answer me!"_

_Another slap, sending a sharp pain through his jaw._

_Strong hands were suddenly shaking him, digging into his arms, turning the tears of relief back into tears of horror._

_He cried with fear. And tried to back away._

_But the grip around his arms wouldn't loosen._

_He desperately tried to yank his arm free, terrified of what was going to happen with him. _

Sobbing, he flailed out, lunged and kicked at his attacker with a despair born of terror, pushing himself frantically away from the older captain. He never knew how he managed, but finally he felt Evans' embrace release, felt himself falling free of the vicious grip. He coughed and retched and barely took in his surroundings when he scrambled frantically to his feet, his heart hammering in his chest as if it might burst. Some distant part of him was dimly aware that Evans was reaching out for him again, but he was too blind with fear to register much in that moment. He stumbled. Shaking. Swaying dangerously. The next thing he knew, he was standing, hammering at the door mechanism of his quarters to open.

And finally the door came open.

He burst through it without another look back.

And ran straight into Ezri's arms.


End file.
