Chapter 2

The walls were hard and smooth, metal with sealed seams, and his clothes soaked through from the little dribble of water from one side. He was in complete darkness. It wasn't exactly like the one the Jem'Hadar had put him in. The walls felt different. He could not tell where the door was. The tiny vent that supplied air was keeping it very cold, but the walls themselves weren't as bad. But is was close enough. He was still shivering.

Worse, the rations came from a slot in the wall, when he pressed a button. He didn't know how many there were. They were the most basic Starfleet supplied, in solid form. Each had three days worth of nutrition, but it didn't fill his empty stomach. He still had to have something to drink. But that required that he lie on his side in the puddle under the spigot, and got completely soaked in the process. He had no idea how long he'd been here, having awakened in his tomb. But he knew who had put him there. He remembered that part.

It wasn't just the uncertainty of the rations that made it worse. He had no idea how long Sloan was planning to keep him there. In a little part of his mind he knew the time might be an illusion, but it didn't matter if it was a complete illusion. And there was Kukalaka. He'd never told anyone about the teasing, dancing bear that had come to him in the Jem'Hadar prison, and especially not about the hallucinations that had followed when he'd returned home. But he was sure Sloan knew. He wouldn't have picked this particular torment if he didn't.

It wouldn't take days this time, and he had no desire to provide anyone with entertainment. He was silent. He repeated basic medical text, but to himself, without using his voice. He tried singing the words to songs again, but without sound. None of it was working. He finally resorted to another ration, and another soaking as well. He moved away from the puddle as best he could, and forgot about songs while he thought of all the hot places he'd been in his life and shivered.

o0o

Bashir had slept, or passed out, he didn't know or care since he was still in the isolation cell. But he woke to a growling stomach. He was still cold, but his clothes had mostly dried. That would take time, he thought, and reached for the lever that would bring another ration. Maybe Sloan had decided to make sure this time. It didn't matter. He'd be freed when they decided.

But he hesitated. He was very hungry, but wasn't quite so cold. He wasn't sure if it would be worse to listen to his growling stomach or shiver uncontrollably. But he took the ration anyway.

He felt a little clearer after sleep, and had an idea. He put the ration in the puddle. He'd still have to drink, but it would be easier to eat it this way. Maybe he could stay a little dryer.

He'd given up trying to remember things. It was all connected with one of his nightmares now. Even pleasant things like lunch with Garak had been spoiled. He vividly remembered Sisko's visit to the infirmary, when he'd been informed that he was relieved of duty and would be confined to quarters until further notice. Privately he worried that somehow the reprimand would give those who still wanted to be rid of him a new opportunity. He wasn't sure Sloan would interfere this time. And he had the feeling Sisko hadn't been sorry at all.

They *acted* like they'd gotten over his genetic enhancement, but they hadn't. They were still suspicious. He was even more alone than when they hadn't known. He dozed, waking only when his stomach demanded food. He fished the now soggy ration stick out of the puddle. It broke into three pieces and made his hands all sticky, but it was easy to eat. He was still thirsty, though, and hunched down under the drip. The ration had made the puddle sticky as well. He got his drink, but instead of just being soaked now he was sticky and soaked. He moved away from it, leaning against the wall again. Trying to think of something other than how cold he was, he fell asleep.

o0o

The next time he woke, he heard the noises. Voices, whispers of people he knew, even recognized, but couldn't make out the words. There was Kira and Sisko, and even Quark. Garak spoke once in a while too. But it was all slurred together. He knew they were talking about him, but not to him. He could hear the disappointment in Miles voice, but it was so quiet it wasn't audible over the others most of the time. But it was company. He knew, somehow, that they were in his head, but any sound, any company, was welcome by then. Even Sloan, as long as it meant the door being opened. Almost any company, he though. No bears. Please no small brown stuffed bears.

He ate, soaking the ration again but not so long, and not minding the soaking or sticky feeling. He no longer cared. Sloan had won. He belonged to Sloan. The man could do anything he wanted and nobody would stop him. Nothing mattered anymore. He just wanted to curl up and sleep and drive all of it away.

By the next waking, some of the voices had faded. He tried the slot on the wall and nothing came out. No more food. He drank more water, and tried to ignore the cold. He leaned back in a hazy fog, no longer able to tell what was real. Even the cold and hunger had lost their edge and it all blended into a hazy mist.

He was leaning back, letting the images of hot sun comfort him, when a voice clearly cut through the fog. "Next time he invites you to join his little group, you say yes," said Sisko. He looked around wondering where the Captain was. It brought things into focus again. "First, you are relieved of duty pending a review of the incident and will be confined to quarters until further notice. Further, your permanent record will bear a reprimand for the unnecessary risk in which you placed yourself and Garak." He could hear the gloating in the voice. He forgot about Sloan for a little while and concentrated on Sisko. He wondered how Sisko would like one of these little boxes.

It was some time later, he no longer cared, that he heard the laugh. He recognized the little sing-song voice in his head. It was just giggling like a malicious child. He kept his eyes closed, not wanting to see the little bear. It was bad enough to hear him. He remembered how it had been months before he could touch his bear.

But more time passed and the giggles turned to words, childish words little Jules had gotten to know well. "I don't want to play with the dummy," someone said. He felt the tears come. That had almost been a kind word, compared to the others. Children could be cruel to anyone different from themselves. They had been very cruel to little Jules.

The other children never let him forget that he wasn't smart. It was hard for him to make sense of things around him. When he made a discovery, or suddenly came to understand a mystery, there was no one to tell. They would just laugh at him. Even before his parents had him "fixed" he had started to hid the things that mattered.

He remembered as if he was still there. "We know you're doing your best," said his mother's soothing voice. But not good enough, he thought. He'd never be good enough for them. He cried for little Jules, lost and destroyed by good intentions. He fell asleep again, this time not bothering to try to drink. He just didn't have the energy.

Eventually, he woke again, startled awake by the drum. He tried not to look, feeling the little feet as they marched up and down his leg. Kukalaka wore the same top hat and tails. The bear marched in time to his drum, occasionally pausing to giggle to some childish joke. He could see the marching toy quite clearly and it never occurred to him that it was impossible. Hungry and dehydrated, cold and wet, he just stared at the stuffed tormentor.

"You're smart now," said the bear, in a squeaky, childish voice. "But they know. See where it got you?" He banged on the drum, missing it and hitting Julian's leg, giggling uncontrollably. The little sticks bounced against him, banging his knee.

He couldn't stand it anymore and shoved the bear and his drum away, screaming loudly at him, "Go away, leave me alone, all of you." But the puddle was bigger. He slipped on the floor of the box, and hit his head on the wall, hard, as he was pushed back by his fall. Kukalaka disappeared. He started to sob and could not stop. His head pounding, he began to slip into nothingness.

He didn't know how long he'd been out, not asleep this time but unconscious. He accepted the darkness and the cold and even the empty stomach. He just wanted to curl up and disappear. But there was talking. The voices were much louder now. This time the voice was Sloan's. He didn't move as Sloan explained his second assignment. 'We want you to test the Cardassian's loyalty. It will be simple, really, and if he passes you'll both have had an adventure.'

'But Garak's my friend,' he said. 'He already thinks of himself as a traitor to his people for the code work.' He hadn't said it to Sloan, hadn't said anything, but had wanted to.

'He's a former Cardassian intelligence agent. He may be out of favor now, but that doesn't make him any more trustworthy, even if he does work with Starfleet Intelligence. We just want to know if he'd betray us.' Sloan had given that as the only explanation of his assignment.

'I don't want to,' he told Sloan. He hadn't told Sloan that either. He didn't dare.

'It doesn't matter,' said Sloan, but he *saw* the little bear. 'You'll do as your told.' Kukalaka/Sloan started to giggle. 'Dummy,' he added in a taunt. All the mumbles in his head started to giggle too.

The bear started to dance up his chest. Julian pushed him away, as hard as he could. He sat up abruptly, hitting his head on the top of the metal box. He slipped on the wet floor, and fell sideways. His head crashed to the floor, cutting himself on the spigot. He lay still, the water soaking through his clothes and the cut bleeding freely, out cold.

o0o

He came to, stretched out on a bed, covered with a blanket. He remembered waking in the infirmary after Garak's adventure, and wasn't sure where he was. But Sloan's voice abruptly clarified things. "Was that real enough, Doctor?"

The last he remembered his head had been pounding and bleeding freely and he was soaking wet. He could feel his vision getting fuzzy, and a strong feeling of confusion. He must have been badly hurt. He felt his head. There was no bump or cut. He didn't feel hungry or thirsty. He was quite warm. But he could still hear a little giggle in the background. "Quite real," he said.

"If the safeties had been off you would have been in surgery now, with severe cranial bleeding. You couldn't tell the difference. Do you believe me now?"

It had been one of Sloan's programs, based on the secret technology he'd used with Garak. Sloan had proven his point. It hadn't been real and the safeties had been in place. But a sing-song voice teased him with another giggle. He heard the tapping on the drum. It depended on where you'd been. He didn't care if that box had been solid and the days he'd been there real, the nightmares would be as bad. He had to stop himself from looking around the room for Kukalaka, the giggle was so loud and close. His head still *hurt* even if there was nothing wrong with it. But that was his business and would not be shared with anyone.

"It was real enough," he said, not looking at Sloan.

"Now, I'll have something for you to do soon. I believe the good Captain is going to release you from confinement to quarters. We'll let you know when to expect another visit by moving that bear of yours." He looked up at Sloan, certain he knew the bear's meaning. Sloan still wore the same calm expression. He was holding a hypo. "Time to go back to your own bed, Doctor."

He watched as it came near and closed his eyes before the hiss. Everything was replaced by blackness.

o0o

He was asleep when he heard the buzzing, curled up in a bed. He was too lost in his dream to be sure where he was. His head hurt too much to move. He ignored the sound, hoping it was part of a dream. He kept very still, his eyes closed, and shaded from light. Half lost in nightmarish dreams, he cowered from the sound.

He heard the whoosh as the door was opened. Someone was coming in. Hands touched him and he shuddered, jerking away. Slowly, he opened his eyes to see someone from Starfleet security standing above him in his own bedroom. Still confused, seeing them through echos of the dreams, he peered at them as if they were not real. "Come on, Doctor. The Captain wants to see you."

The dream faded, and he covered his eyes and rested his head. "I need some time," he said.

They did not budge. Waiting impatiently, one of them shook him, and he tried to control the shudder. "Don't go back to sleep. He said he wanted you now."

Aware of where he was again, Bashir reminded himself of his current situation. Sisko could order it if he wanted to. The security people would not consider an appeal.

He rose, slowly. His pounding headache got worse. Everything was blurry. He shook his head to try to clear it. "I've got a very bad headache," he mumbled, as he sat down again.

"We'll take you by the Infirmary first," said the guard, tapping his communicator. Julian suddenly remembered how his had been taken, along with the medkit he kept in his quarters. They'd turned off the replicator as well. Sisko had made his point and at that moment the Captain was the last person he wanted to see. He sat on his bed, the world hazy and moving around him. The guard continued, "He says he has a bad headache. I'm taking him to get something for it first."

"Certainly, bring him here as soon as you're done." It was Sisko's voice.

'The next time ... you say yes.' He heard Sisko's voice again as plainly as if he'd just said it. Pulling himself to his feet, he let the security people help steady him. He could feel the resentment growing inside. He had to keep it under control. Sisko would not be allowed to see it, just the coldness.

He heard the giggle in the background. There was something in the other room, marching with a drum. He closed his eyes. 'No,' he thought. 'Not that again.' He couldn't cope with both Sisko and the bear.

"May I get dressed," he asked the man.

"Sure, but hurry up."

He watched as they left, but noted the door was still open. He pulled on his uniform, fighting the headache and dizziness which went with it. He stumbled out into the other room, hesitating at the door, but the giggle and drum had gone. The security people stood waiting. He walked between them, glancing at Kukalaka. He froze for a second. The bear was smiling.

"Let's try to hurry this up," said one of the security people, as he forced himself to look away and stumbled out the door.

o0o

Bashir sat on the bio-bed while the doctor conducted his examination. He still acted and looked so absurdly normal. But now Bashir knew, and it was almost like Sloan himself was standing there.

"How long have you been having these headaches?" asked Dr. Rand, or whatever his name really was.

Bashir noted he was being closely watched. "Oh, on and off. But not nearly this bad," he half-way lied. The doctor nodded, still observing him too closely.

"This should help. Come by anytime you need another one. Nobody's trying to hurt you." Rand was watching him in a way that spoke of many small assignments, before he got one this important. Bashir just wanted to get rid of the headache. The doctor took a hypo from Jabara.

Jabara stepped back as he pressed the hypo to Bashir's neck, and the pounding began to quiet immediately. "You'll have headaches for a while," said Rand, and he'd stopped his examination. Bashir hadn't known the man was one of Sloan's people before. He suspected the man knew what had happened last night. "If it comes back, just come by and we'll give you something for it." Someday, he wondered, would he be assigned that sort of duty too?

He wished Sloan would pull him out of here soon. He didn't want to see Sisko, not today or ever again. He suspected Sisko shared the desire.

They escorted him to the conference room, and he was ushered inside by himself. Sisko wasn't alone but he'd never seen the woman sitting with him. "Doctor, this is Lieutenant Barnes, of the adjacent's office. We've been discussing your case."

He didn't sit. Nobody told him to. He tried to look attentive, but the giggling in his head was so loud it was hard to concentrate. The woman leaned forward.

"It is our decision to release you from confinement to quarters. You may move about the station freely, as long as you stay out of the docking ring and Ops. You will still be relieved of duty until this matter is settled at the upcoming hearing. Do you have any questions?" Her voice was calm and professional, and he was glad she had delivered the news.

He glanced at Sisko, carefully looking at some reports. He did not look at her. "No, none," he said, distracted.

She nodded. "Then you may go," she said in dismissal.

Just once, as he was walking out the door, he looked back at Sisko. The Captain was wearing his most neutral expression, but Bashir could tell. He was worried. He'd already figured out there was much more going on than met the eye. He saw danger when he looked at Julian Bashir.

o0o

Sisko watched as Bashir left the room, noting the arrogance. He'd always been a little arrogant. That was one of the things that fit so well with his genetic status. Sisko has always thought it was just the training and respect doctor's normally received. Perhaps all along it had been the advantage he held over the rest. Now it was more. Bashir was cold about things now. He thanked the woman with a nod, and gave Sisko a quick glance in parting.

For a passing second, Sisko noticed the look. The doctor's dark eyes focused on Sisko, and for a heartbeat the doctor dropped his guard. There was an unmistakable threat in that look, a warning that dared Sisko to try to intervene again. It was far more deadly than the first, delivered months ago when Bashir had first been compromised by them. Then, he'd chosen to make sure Sisko knew how complete the damage from his rash decision had been. Now, watching the doctor leave, he carefully ignored the way the woman was closely watching him.

As the door shut, she spoke. "I'll be very glad when this is over. He made a mistake, but I don't like the way you've made us look. A reprimand on his record would have been quite sufficient."

Sisko was grudgingly beginning to agree with her. He didn't know what had gotten into him, but at the time it had been a way to assert his authority over Bashir. The doctor would do as he was told, on the surface, but Sisko worried about the other things he'd do. He couldn't miss the cold gaze Bashir gave him when nobody noticed. "You're probably right," he said, resigned. "But it's too far along to do anything now."

"It would just call more attention to the debacle," she said, but he wasn't really listening. He remembered the shock on Bashir's face when he'd told him to go with Sloan. The doctor had gone out of his way to avoid him after that. He'd heard of late night visits to Quarks, and when he did have to deal with Bashir there was an undercurrent of resentment impossible to ignore. If he could do it over again he didn't know what he'd say. It hadn't worked. All he'd done was drive Bashir into their waiting embrace. And now he didn't know what sort of man he was dealing with, only that it was necessary to be careful.

"I looked over the depositions. I don't see it going anywhere, at least," he said wearily, wishing she had a little more sympathy.

Sisko remembered Bashir's surprise visit to his quarters after he'd come back from Abersand station, and the hard, dangerous stare he'd given Sisko. He shivered a little.

She noticed. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"Fine," he said, distracted. "Just thinking of ... things." She shrugged. The people on the station would never buy it, but she didn't know him that well. He would have to be careful. 'It better work out,' he thought. He chose not to consider what Bashir might do, even if it cleared him completely.

o0o

Outside the room, still with no job or communicator, Julian wandered aimlessly for a short while. The headache had abated, but not the disorientation. All he had to do was shut his eyes and the small dark room closed around him. His replicator had been turned off, and he'd been getting whatever Security picked for meals. He decided food of his own choice might help.

He paused before entering the replimat, scanning the customers. It was neither deserted nor crowded. He felt comfortable with that. Then he noticed a figure sitting near the back and nearly went past.

Garak was there. He didn't remember any of the end of the "adventure", but was certain something had scared the Cardassian. All he remembered were bits and pieces after leaving the rendevous to hide in the hills. If it had been as real to Garak as Sloan's personal torture chamber had been to him, he didn't want to pry. But the way Garak was acting now reminded him of the edgy mood he'd had at the Internment camp, forcing himself to go into the wall.

Perhaps Garak had felt the same back then as he did entering the replimat. But he'd been at the mercy of others for his meals for too long. And the lingering echos of Sloan's little room told him he was hungry. He waited in line behind two people and selected scones with jam and tarkalian tea. It was comfort food.

The only table was too close to Garak, but he wanted to sit and eat a meal of his choice with people. His feeling of vague discomfort vanished as he tasted the first bite. He even relaxed a little. Maybe he could carry out the charade of being two people after all.

Then he noted that Garak was watching him. He knew now that disengaging the safeties had been a mistake. Sloan had quite clearly demonstrated that with his little room. But at the time he'd had a decision to make. He'd believed Garak would not be himself if they were left in place. He'd have failed the test and Sloan would have killed him. Bashir had enough blood on his hands already.

Garak did not look any more understanding than Sisko had. The relief he'd felt at being able to move about vanished, as did the comfort of the food. He ate quickly. He ignored all of them. Suddenly, he just wanted to be alone again. He picked up the empty dish and walked without haste to the bin and deposited it inside. He passed near Garak's table, and it was hard not to rush by. But that would be too obvious. He thought Garak was going to say something and couldn't deal with that now. He moved through the now crowded replimat as if preoccupied, hoping his haste was not so noticeable.

He took the shortest route to his quarters, and collapsed in relief at the narrow escape. He never wanted to leave the room again.

o0o

Elim Garak had discovered an odd pleasure in eating again. He knew the whole experience on Zas'sana was not real, but he found that food tasted better after the meager meals they'd had. He looked forward to his food, and savored it. After opening the shop that morning, he had become fatigued, and had taken an early lunch. He chose to dine alone. He missed the lively talks he'd had with Bashir, but wasn't really in the mood for conversation.

His peaceful mood was spoiled a little when Bashir arrived. For a moment Garak though he might say something but was relieved when Bashir just walked past. Apparently preoccupied, he ate a leisurely meal without taking note of much. But in the practiced way that was second nature to Garak, he was closely watching the young doctor.

Bashir was trying to hide it, but Garak couldn't miss the nervous demeanor. Julian scanned the room for a table, carrying his food, and only with reluctance took the table near Garak. A little smile crossed the Cardassian's lips as the doctor started on his meal. Garak noticed the choice, a long noted favorite, and the tarkalian tea. Bashir had chosen that for his first lunch after the internment camp. With a vague sadness, he recalled the young idealist they had destroyed. He had changed, even then, but the Jem'Hadar had taken what was left of the innocence. His friend had never said what they'd done before Garak's arrival at the prison, but the guards were both vicious and bored, and he could guess. Bashir had not been the same since he came home.

But he'd been an even better friend. Bashir took a long sip of his tea, glancing up, and Garak suddenly realized that he too was being watched. The doctor was still learning, but Garak could not help but admire the skill he showed. There was the man from the Judge Advocates office, with his helpful suggestions-who had known the truth of Bashir's program. He wondered who had ensnared his friend and stolen him forever.

Abruptly, Bashir stiffened, and it occurred to Garak that he'd noticed that he was being observed. He was good. Once he learned to hide his body language, Bashir might even be a dangerous rival. But not yet. The doctor became distressed, hurrying his meal suddenly, as if all the pleasure had gone.

In full retreat, the doctor passed very near, and Garak nodded to him. Distracted, Bashir looked toward the tailor, momentarily dropping his guard.

Garak saw the self-loathing, colored by his guilt. He saw no traces of his friend. Watching as Bashir fled the room, he wondered who had stolen the man he knew.

o0o

End Part 1, Chapter 2