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 daughter 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.