I'm really sorry I took so long to update this. I'm also sorry that this chapter ends on a cliff-hanger. I'm not trying to torture my readers honestly. I hope people enjoy this, the story's nearly over and the next chapter will probably be the final one.

WARNINGS: torture, sexual assault, violence, mentions of rape, aftermath of experiments on sentients, aftermath of torture, one bad word

Thank you Klytia for the awesome long review. This chapter's dedicated to you.

Chapter 9: Through The Fire

There were only two chairs in the shuttle so Bashir laid some blankets on the floor for extra seating. He asked the Vorta if they wanted anything to eat and Weyoun uncertainly suggested berries. Fruit was hardly the most nourishing thing Julian could think of but he was pleased Weyoun felt comfortable enough around him to ask for something. He replicated a large bowl of mixed berries and several bottles of water.

While they were eating he put in a call to Garak.

He had to wait a while before receiving an answer but then there was Garak, smiling calmly at him through the screen. "Hello Doctor," greeted the Cardassian.

"I found them," Julian said.

"All three?"

"Plus a baby."

"A baby?"

"Half Cardassian."

"That is… unfortunate. How are they?"

"Not great," Julian admitted. "I'm going to bring them straight to DS9."

It was at this point that Eris came over to investigate, having left the others sitting on the pile of blankets. She stepped into view as –squinting– she tried to make out the face on the screen. Her hair was matted and her face was too thin. Wires from the suppression collar still pierced her skull. Her clothes were ragged and far too large. Where the neckline of her top dropped down over one shoulder the thick pink scars of whip lashes were clearly visible.

Garak frowned. Looking at the female Vorta he told her, "I would like to offer my personal apology for what was done to you and your companions."

Eris stared blankly at the screen for a moment before silently returning to sit with the other Vorta.

The ship set on auto-pilot as traveled away from Cardassian space, Bashir suggested he check everyone over in his capacity as a doctor. Eris held her child tightly to her chest, clearly unwilling to let go. She was terrified and Julian wondered what he had said wrong.

"It's alright," Weyoun assured her. "It doesn't hurt. I'll go first." He stood somewhat awkwardly and Julian gestured for him to have a seat in the co-pilot's chair. A quick scan with a medical tricorder showed he was malnourished (though you only needed eyes to see that). It also showed innumerable old wounds that had never received medical treatment. They told a story of appalling violence and cruelty. "Are you in pain?" the doctor asked.

"Some," Weyoun replied.

"I'll give you an analgesic," Bashir said. The damage done to the clone's body certainly could not be healed on a shuttlecraft, if anything could be done at all after it had been left so long.

"Thank you."

Julian administered the hypo-spray. "Is that that better?" he asked.

"No effect I'm afraid," Weyoun answered, his expression apologetic.

Frowning, Julian scanned him again. He swore. "It looks like the genetically engineered immunity to poisons interferes with other foreign substances too. I'm really sorry but I don't think any of the drugs I have here are going to work. At least it seems to have stopped any of you from getting infections."

"Don't worry doctor, we'll survive."

They would, wouldn't they, realized Bashir. These small, fragile looking aliens had lived through hell and gotten themselves out.

Eris volunteered to be examined next. The collar – wired into her brain – worried and disgusted Julian in equal measure. Its removal however was something that would have to wait till they were back at DS9.

A scan revealed that her abdomen had been cut open some three years previously and a caesarian section performed. He didn't ask what had happened to that child, knew he wouldn't like the answer.

The surviving baby was a boy, a year and a half old and, aside from being underweight, was in good health. He sat on Eris's knee, giggling as he tried to grab the tricorder. "What's his name?" Julian asked.

"Akio," the female Vorta told him.

"Hello Akio," Julian said with a smile.

"Ello!" replied the young child.

Bashir was glad someone at least was doing ok. Keevan was not so well. He was probably in the best shape physically of the three adults but he wasn't talking and he flinched at any loud noise or sudden movement.

Three days and they would be at Deep Space Nine. Julian had never been gladder Ezri had been added to the station's staff. That thought made him feel guilty. He was great at healing physical wounds, not so much psychological ones.

They'd traveling half a day when phaser fire forced the shuttle out of warp. There was instant chaos as everything and everyone was thrown about the cabin. Akio was crying. Dazed, Julian pulled himself back into his seat.

"What's happening?" Weyoun shouted over the screeching alarms.

"Someone shot at us!" Julian yelled back as he took in the old-style Cardassian Cruiser located by the scanners. Quickly raising the shields he hailed the attacking vessel. Dimly he was aware of Weyoun getting into the other seat. The hail was answered, response coming through. With a shower of sparks the view-screen activated and there was Dukat.

The former Gul was smiling widely, as though at any moment he might break into laughter. Behind him, on a ramshackle bridge, stood several Cardassians and surprisingly also some Bajorans. All were dressed in civilian clothes. Julian started to say something but before he could even begin Weyoun disappeared in the glow of a transporter beam and three heavily armed men materialized on the shuttle.

"You just wait there doctor," said Dukat's image on the view-screen. "We'll talk later." The screen went blank.

Weyoun found himself in an unfamiliar transporter room. Before he had a chance to take in his surroundings scaled hands grabbed his arms and held him in place. He panicked and instantly tried to pull away. It took no effort at all however to keep him from escaping. His captor was more than a head taller than him and four times his weight.

Dukat laughed when he entered the room and saw the Vorta's futile attempts to get away. "With me," the former Gul ordered, grabbing him by the hair and dragging him from the room. A moment later he found himself tossed into unknown quarters. Hitting a wall he fell to the floor.

Dukat started to strip, pausing when he realized that what he had taken for sobbing was in fact soft laughter. Weyoun was laughing at him. "Have you lost your mind?" he demanded, enraged.

The Vorta shook his head. "I remember you Dukat," he said. He was crying, visibly trembling but still laughing. "You're pathetic." Strong hands shot out to encircle his neck as the Cardassian snarled, pinning him to the wall.

"Say that again," Dukat threatened.

"You have to –" he started, gasping as the grip on his throat tightened. "You have to abuse someone half your size just to feel powerful." A sudden shove knocked his skull against the wall and left him seeing stars. "See?" he said and laughed again, tears streaking his face. Dukat kicked him until he heard ribs break.

Back on the shuttle Julian was studying their 'guards', sizing them up. Two were Cardassian, one Bajoran. Funny how a crazed cultish figure could get the two races to work together when the best diplomats in the Federation couldn't.

Julian knew about Dukat's little group. They claimed they were revolutionaries. In practice they were no more than pirates, attacking small vessels as they passed through Cardassian space.

"Why are you working for him?" Bashir asked, targeting the Bajoran.

"Dukat is ushering in a new age for both our races," the man replied. "Now shut up."

"You know Weyoun," Dukat said as he cut abstract patterns into the Vorta's exposed chest, "I think I'm going to keep you. I've missed hearing you scream."

Julian kept talking. One of Dukat's men smacked him in the head with the butt of his disrupter. Akio started to cry, loud, piercing frightened wails. Eris clutched him tightly, trying to hide the infant behind skinny arms while Keevan huddled in beside her trying to help and made frantic shushing noises.

"I didn't think Vorta could have children," said the Bajoran.

"Let me see it," ordered one of the others.

"No." Eris hissed, tightening her grip. "I won't let you hurt him."

"I just want to see," the Cardassian repeated, reaching down and tugging Akio from his mother's grasp. Two disrupters were instantly trained on her when she jumped up and made to snatch him back.

The man holding the baby stared in shock at the small form in his hands. "He's half-Cardassian."

All three of Dukat's men were now looking at Akio. "One guess how that happened," Julian said as he pushed himself up from where he'd been knocked to the floor, a gash at his hairline dripping blood. Turning to look at the Bajoran again, he asked, "There's a lot of half-Cardassian children on your world, isn't there?"

Dukat's hands were pulling down Weyoun's trousers, cold and hard against pale skin.

"Do you think your friends would like to come too? We could all have fun together. I'd probably have to get rid of them eventually but not you. I'm definitely keeping you little Vorta."

Hands were touching him, leaving bruises in their wake.

"You're mine. Though I can tell someone else has been having fun with you." Cold fingers traced some of the innumerable scars on the smaller man's body. "I'm guessing it was after the 'Founders' were done with you. Whips and hot iron doesn't seem their style and I'm sure they don't know Cardassian glyphs." He touched a symbol carved into the small of the Vorta's back. "This one means 'whore', did you know that?"

Hands were touching him, fingers pushing inside.

"You're so unresponsive! I'd have thought in getting this," he tapped the glyph again, "you'd have learnt some skills." Roughly, he pulled his fingers from the smaller man's body, turned him so they were face to face. "Why don't you show me what you've learnt Weyoun?"

Learnt… yes. Looking up at Dukat, he snaked his arms around the grey torso before him. Dukat began to laugh. Weyoun held his gaze as one thin hand traced the contours of his scales and the other drifted down to his belt, to the scabbard that held the still bloody knife.

Learnt… he'd learnt a lot since the last time he'd seen Dukat.

He'd learnt the Founders hated their followers.

He'd learnt that a touch could bring comfort as well as fear.

He'd learnt the universe was not fair.

He'd learnt that his species were esthetically pleasing to Cardassians.

He'd learnt that begging and screaming never stopped the pain.

Most importantly though, he had learnt that with a sharp blade and enough desperation a Vorta could take on a Cardassian. Dukat gasped as the knife sank into his abdomen.

"The Occupation is over," the Bajoran follower was saying. "Dukat is trying to bring our two people together now. How is bringing up the atrocities of the past going to help?"

"You know Dukat has a half Bajoran daughter, don't you?"

Dukat stared in shocked disbelief at the weapon buried to the hilt in his flesh. His mouth started to form a question but then his legs collapsed and only a gasp escaped his lips. Weyoun was still shaking, still crying, as he had been since they entered the Cardassian's quarters, but he was standing and Dukat was on the floor. The Vorta was backing away until he was pressed against the opposite wall. His violet eyes were huge and staring. There was very little blood, the knife plugging the track of the wound. Dazed, Dukat tried to pull it out. There was the blood, though he barely noticed it through the rush of pain. He gasped again as blackness closed in.