As he tried to stand up, a dark cloud of smoke stung his eyes and a strange, ringing sound filled his ears. He subsequently broke into a fit of coughing, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. With great effort, Bashir finally managed to pick himself up, his body still trembling in the aftermath of the explosion. He frantically glanced around the cargo bay and immediately noticed the smoldering bodies of his comrades scattered around on the floor. The walls were engulfed in flames as plasma was slowly leaking out of the conduits, turning the cargo bay into a burning death-trap.

Ignoring the increasing headache accompanied by a wave of dizziness, Bashir staggered to the nearest terminal in hopes of activating the extinguishing system. He quickly pressed several keys, his fingertips seared by the scorching panel, but the computer failed to respond to his commands.

Cursing silently under his breath, Bashir dashed forward to check for pulses of his crew members. He found none. But there was no time to commiserate as the smoke assaulted his senses, causing him to cough again. He needed to get out of there if he wanted to live to see the next day.

Bashir rushed to the cog-wheeled door, only to find it locked. He punched it angrily, feeling an increasing sense of dread and despair. The heat was already burning his skin as the flames circled around him, spreading through the room. Bashir felt blisters forming on his arms and cheekbones. It was getting harder and harder to breathe.

"Smiley!" he called out to his communicator, hoping that the Irishman would receive his hail. "Explosion in cargo bay 4. Beam me out of here!"

"…problem…" O'Brien's barely audible voice answered, broken by the screech of static, "…Alliance planted… bomb… hacked our systems… transporter malfunction".

Miles expected Bashir to launch into a colorful string of profanities but instead, there was silence on the other end, broken eventually by a hacking cough, followed by a loud thud.

"Julian? Julian!" Concern crept into O'Brien's mind when the other man did not respond. Bashir was a pain in the ass, true, but they had known each other for almost twenty years, fighting side by side against the Alliance. To call their odd rapport friendship would be an overstatement, but Miles certainly didn't want the irritable Terran to die.

O'Brien checked the transporter readings and shook his head resignedly. Beaming Bashir to Ops would be a huge risk as the subatomic fluctuations could lead to unpredictable results. In the worst-case scenario, Bashir's body would get completely disintegrated, but leaving him in the burning cargo bay wasn't an option either.

After hesitating for a short moment, O'Brien activated the transporter. Staring at the platform in anticipation, his stomach sank when the man didn't materialize in Ops. Little did he know, this wasn't the end of Captain Julian Bashir.

Julian felt odd, watching his unconscious counterpart lying still on the biobed. There were so many questions swirling in the doctor's mind. What had happened to the man was the obvious one, but Julian also wondered about the other Bashir's personality and his genetic background.

He recalled Captain Sisko telling him that his doppelganger was a violent individual, carrying a pretty big chip on his shoulder. That didn't surprise him. Julian had a glimpse of the parallel universe and he didn't like it one bit. After his encounter with the Intendant and the sadistic version of Odo, Julian realized that their world was a dark place where everything was an ominous, twisted image of the familiar.

Then there was the question of Bashir's enhancements. Julian had compared their DNA samples and came to a shocking conclusion. Just as he suspected, his counterpart had also been genetically altered, which would explain their physical alikeness. However, their genetic codes weren't identical, indicating that Bashir's enhancements were of a different nature.

That discovery triggered an avalanche of further questions. First of all, as far as Julian knew, Terrans didn't have access to the kind of technology needed to resequence a person's genetic code. Who altered him, then? And why? Furthermore, while the doctor's enhancements made his mental and physical skills superior to those of a regular human being, Bashir's alterations seemed to be more subtle. In short, he wasn't a genius – Captain Sisko would attest to that – and he probably didn't posses the same abilities Julian had. But why would anyone enhance a Terran slave without giving him the upper hand? What was the point? One thing was certain, Captain Bashir harbored a dark secret and Julian was determined to find out what it was. Still, his patient's health was his primary concern at that moment.

Julian took out his medical tricorder and ran it over Bashir's body. He almost gasped when the man suddenly grabbed his wrist, his grip surprisingly firm.

"It's alright," Julian reassured him. "You're on Deep Space Nine. You're safe here".

Bashir let him go, his eyes scanning the doctor's face. Julian felt uneasy under the silent scrutiny.

"I realize this is probably as bizarre to you as it is to me," Julian said, but got no response. He then cleared his throat and decided to switch to his professional doctor-mode. "Feeling better?"

"Better than burning to death? Sure," Bashir sarcastically replied, his voice strong but a little groggy.

Julian ignored the passive-aggressive tone. "I've managed to clear your lungs and I took care of the first- and second-degree burns on your skin. You still have a mild concussion but I expect you to make a full recovery. Can you tell me what happened?"

"The Alliance left us a little gift in the cargo bay".

"I'm guessing a bomb," Julian concluded. "They're still bothering you, huh?"

"Constantly," Bashir said bitterly. "We've been fighting for our independence for almost two decades. But you wouldn't know anything about that, would you? With your cozy Infirmary and your comfy uniform, you don't have a care in the world".

Julian felt annoyed by the comment but managed to keep a straight face. He understood why the other Bashir would think that. Deep Space Nine must have seemed like paradise in comparison to the murky reality of Terok Nor. Still, that didn't give his dark counterpart the right to judge him. The doctor's life hadn't been a bed of roses either, but he decided he wasn't going to argue with his patient. Instead, he looked thoughtfully at the readings on his tricorder.

"Are you in pain? Do you need more painkillers?"

Bashir shook his head but judging by the slight squint of his eyes and the faint grimace on his face, he wasn't being entirely honest.

"Once you feel better, Miles will transport you back home…" Julian's voice trailed off. Would the other Bashir even have a home to get back to? "Don't worry," he quickly added, "we'll figure out a way to get you back safely…"

"I'm not worried," Bashir cut in, an arrogant smirk crossing his face. "The station will be fine. They're not getting rid of us that easily".

"No doubt about it," Julian forced a reassuring smile even though he thought that Bashir's overconfidence was a bit misguided. "Now, please, get some rest unless you want me to sedate you".

Bashir closed his eyes and turned on his side. The doctor was about to leave when his patient's voice stopped him mid-step.

"You know, Smiley told me about you".

Julian wordlessly turned around to face him, a little surprised by the admission.

"He was right, you're a kind and compassionate man," Bashir casually added, his eyes still closed. "I guess we're nothing alike". He then smirked callously, letting the doctor know the statement was meant as a taunt rather than a compliment.

"Rest," Julian firmly replied and left the room, disturbed by Bashir's behavior. He had a feeling his evil twin might become a real thorn in his side.

Just as Julian stepped into the main area of the Infirmary, Captain Sisko and a Bajoran security officer came in.

"How is he?" Sisko asked while motioning for the security officer to enter the patient's room.

"He'll be fine," Bashir replied, then noticed a phaser attached to the Bajoran's belt. "Is this really necessary?"

Sisko nodded. "Just a precaution. We'd better keep an eye on him. Captain Bashir has… quite a temper".

"Tell me about it," Julian said, leaning against the wall.

"Have you spoken to him?"

"I have, briefly," Julian replied, "but all I've managed to find out is that the Alliance somehow planted a bomb in the cargo bay. He was lucky to survive the explosion".

Julian decided to leave out the details of their conversation. If Sisko suspected there was more to it, he didn't let it show.

"We need to transport him back as soon as possible, " the Captain said, then pondered something for a moment, "if that's even an option, considering the circumstances…"

Julian scratched his chin thoughtfully as he shared Sisko's concern. "He seems confident that the rebels will be able to handle the situation. I suppose they deal with acts of sabotage on Terok Nor on a regular basis. But before we send Bashir back, I want to keep him for observation for the next 26 hours".

Prolonging Bashir's stay on DS9 was quite inconvenient but Sisko knew Julian wouldn't let any patient leave his Infirmary without making sure they were fit to do so. With a sigh of resignation, Sisko said, "Alright, Doctor, just make sure the treatment of our visitor is off the record".

"Sir?"

"I don't want to deal with Starfleet's Legal Department in case they decide we've breached the Prime Directive. The less people know about it the better".

Julian nodded in understanding.

"Let me know when he's ready to go back," Sisko said, turning to leave the Infirmary.

"Yes, sir," Julian replied and absentmindedly swiped his hand over his hair. He decided to carry out further analysis of his counterpart's DNA in his office.

An hour later, Julian was staring intently at the monitor, deep in thought, when Ezri's quiet voice startled him.

"What are you working on?" the Trill asked casually.

He abruptly turned around but upon seeing her amused expression, he quickly recovered. It wasn't the first time she snuck up on him like that, a habit she probably picked up from Jadzia. Julian smiled to himself. There was no point in hiding the results of his research as Dax was already looking at the readings over his shoulder.

"I'm comparing Bashir's DNA with mine," he admitted, although he suspected Ezri already knew as much.

"What did you find out?"

Julian sat back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head. "Well, assuming Bashir was born with the same… disabilities I had, it's obvious that his genetic code has been altered, or touched up if you will".

Ezri's brows knitted in confusion. "What do you mean, touched up?"

"Whoever resequenced his DNA, made him quite…," Julian paused for a second, thinking of an appropriate term, "average".

"That's odd," Ezri mused, "considering the low social status Terrans have in his universe".

Julian nodded. "On a physical level, his vital signs and stamina are pretty ordinary. However, I noticed a slight disturbance in his nervous system which suggests someone was tampering with his mental faculties. Apparently, they weren't very successful at it. Perhaps that's the reason why he has trouble controlling his emotions".

"Or maybe he simply has a nasty personality?" Ezri teased, earning a slight smirk from Julian. Then her tone became serious again, "Let's not forget, his people are under constant stress with no psychological support so it's only natural they might experience mental and emotional issues".

"You're right, " Julian said, "but I'm still curious about his enhancements".

Ezri shrugged. "Why don't you just ask him?"

Shaking his head, the doctor rose from his chair and approached the door. "I doubt he'll be willing to share any information".

"You've got nothing to lose," Dax said as the two exited Julian's office and headed towards the patient's room. "I mean, what's the worst thing that can happen? He'll tell you to mind your own business and that'll be the end of it".

"In which case, "Julian said, smiling playfully, "you'll talk to him".

"Me?!"

"You're a counselor, Ezri. You have a way of making people open up to you. Just use one your psychological tricks".

"Tricks?" Ezri echoed, pretending to be offended. She didn't have time to come up with a good retort when the two entered the patient's room and were met with a strange sight.

The security officer seemed to have left but there was a figure covered with sheets from head to toe on Bashir's biobed. Julian's heart leaped to his throat as he uncovered the sheets only to discover it was the Bajoran officer, knocked out cold. His phaser was missing.

Glancing at the man, Ezri's voice filled with worry, "Is he…?"

"He's just unconscious," Julian assured her, frantically looking around the room for his dark counterpart. "Where did he go?"

"He must have left the Infirmary at some point," Dax said, picking up a crumpled hospital gown she found on the floor.

The two exchanged alarmed glances as Julian asked, "Why didn't the security personnel on the Promenade stop him?"

Ezri approached the replicator and scrolled through its history record when a realization hit her. "Why would anyone stop Doctor Bashir from leaving his Infirmary? He replicated your uniform".

Julian let out an exasperated puff of air and tapped his combadge, "Bashir to Sisko and Parias, we've got a problem".

Strolling casually around the bustling Promenade, Bashir took in his surroundings. Deep Spice Nine seemed so lively and colorful, its vibrant energy standing in sharp contrast with the solemn mood of Terok Nor. It irked him.

He swept his long hair into an unruly ponytail and adjusted his uniform, a little surprised it wasn't as comfortable as he thought it would be. Nobody seemed to mind his disheveled appearance, or the phaser at his hip for that matter. Shopkeepers and passers-by greeted him politely or smiled warmly at him, oblivious to the fact he wasn't their beloved doctor. For some reason, that irked him as well. He wasn't used to people looking at him with respect and admiration. A mix of fear and disdain in people's eyes was something he knew how to deal with. He hated socializing, anyway.

What do these people do for fun around here? he thought then smirked to himself when he spotted Quark's bar on the other end of the Promenade. Just then, a group of small kids passed him by, trailing behind a Terran woman like an obedient flock of lambs. A dark-haired boy noticed him, his face immediately lightening up.

"Hi daddy," the child called out, waving his hand vigorously.

The woman glanced up and gave Bashir a small wave as well.

Daddy? Bashir was so baffled that he didn't even reciprocate their gesture and remained rooted to his spot. Fortunately, they didn't notice his reaction - or lack of thereof – as the woman led the kids into a large room, presumably the station's school or day care.

"So, the Doc has a son," Bashir muttered, trying to picture himself as a father-figure. He toyed with the notion for a while but eventually decided, with some regret, that he wasn't cut out to be a parent.

He had to admit, the realization stung him a bit. He'd never even considered being a father but seeing the boy made him realize how much better Julian's life was than his. In that universe, he was a doctor, a Starfleet officer, a father, and a respected member of the society. Back home, Bashir was an outcast among outcasts, his future painted in bleak colors. It wasn't fair.

In truth, Bashir was torn between feeling indignant and a little relieved that there existed a world where he led a normal, happy life. Too bad that wasn't his world. He didn't belong there.

Shaking his head to clear his mind, Bashir's final conclusion was that he needed to drown his sorrows before they could send him back. The Doc was bound to discover he'd been missing from the Infirmary sooner than later.

Turning around abruptly, Bashir nearly bumped into a petite female whose race he hadn't seen before. She fixed her bright, lilac eyes on him and smiled apologetically.

"I'm sorry Doctor," she said and waited for his response. When she didn't receive one, she continued, undiscouraged, in the same polite manner, "I just wanted to say thank you for everything you've done for Weyoun".

"Yeah, sure, all in the day's work," he curtly replied, mentally rolling his eyes. He made a move to pass by her but she took a step back and stood in his way again.

"I just…" she started, a little embarrassed, then found determination in her voice again, "Weyoun would never admit it but I've noticed his neck is quite sore… and I was wondering if you could give him some more pain medication?"

"Tell him to suck it up," Bashir said shortly, clearly annoyed by the woman. Ignoring her bewildered expression, he moved past her, taking quick, determined steps towards Quark's bar.

"How can my modest establishment serve you, Doctor?" Quark asked, a little surprised to see Julian so early.

Bashir leaned against the bar, glaring intently at Quark. He remembered seeing the Ferengi's face before. After a brief moment, his mind flashed back to the time Quark and his half-witted brother tried to smuggle a cloaking device for the Alliance in exchange for some old man. Bashir found himself at the end of his rope as virtually everybody on that damned station managed to irritate him somehow.

"I want whisky," he demanded, "the real one, none of that replicated rubbish".

Quark's eyes widened in shock but he obediently took out a bottle of whisky from under the counter and placed a clean glass in front of his customer.

"Not that I'm complaining, Doctor, but isn't it a little too early for a…," he started to say but Bashir swiftly snatched the bottle from his hand and took a large gulp, "…drink".

"Put it on my tab," Bashir called out, then sat heavily in a nearby chair, resting his legs against the edge of the adjacent table. He took another swig from the bottle, wiped his lips with his hand and muttered to himself, "Ahh, that's better".

Quark couldn't help but stare at him, his mouth agape.

"Is Doctor Bashir having a nervous breakdown?" he heard a Dabo girl murmur but he ignored her as the cogs in his brain started to turn. The glare, the sneer, the attitude, the unkempt hair… it all started to make sense.

Squinting his eyes suspiciously, Quark slowly approached Bashir, leaned down to make eye contact with him and whispered, "You're not our Julian, are you?"

Without a warning, Bashir grabbed the Ferengi's ear, making him yelp in pain. "Listen to me Quark," he drawled out in a cold, intimidating tone, "I've had a pretty bad day so why don't you do me a favor and get lost". With that, he angrily pushed him back, almost causing the bartender to lose his balance.

Quark stumbled back to his bar, massaging his aching ear. One of the Ferengi waiters glanced at Bashir, then back at Quark and asked, "Should we call security?"

"Not yet," Quark replied in a low voice. "Let him finish the bottle first. We're charging double for non-replicated beverages today".

Bashir took yet another large swig, enjoying the smoky flavor on his tongue. That was his idea of relaxation and he was glad he managed to sneak away from the dull Infirmary. They'd probably give him hell for knocking out that security guard but it was worth it.

He lifted the bottle to his lips, ready to take another sip when a middle-aged man in civilian clothes approached his table. "Do you mind if I join you, Doctor?"

Bashir didn't even spare him a glance, "I do, actually".

Undeterred, the man took a seat next to Bashir, ignoring the nasty glare that was sent his way. "I insist. This is important".

"Is it?" Bashir said through gritted teeth. Was spending some quality time with his bottle of whisky too much to ask?

"You probably wonder who I am?" the intruder asked smugly.

"Couldn't care less," Bashir sharply replied, causing the man to blink in barely-concealed astonishment.

"I can see you're in a sour mood so I'll get right to the point," he finally said, his expression dark, his tone threatening, "call the Cardassian off".

"What?"

"You heard me, Doctor. If you care about the wellbeing of your son, you'll call your Cardassian friend off".

TBC

Author's notes:

I'm sorry about the late update but you know how it is, life things, work things, brother's wedding things and all :)

Did you enjoy some MirrorBashir sass? Expect more of it! You'll learn more about his past and his genetic background in the next chapter.

Oh, and I hope having two Bashirs in one scene wasn't too troublesome. I referred to the doctor as 'Julian' and his Mirror counterpart as 'Bashir' to avoid confusion. Hopefully that worked out.

Thank you once again for taking the time to read the story. A special thanks to my beloved reviewers, followers and favoriters! Please, let me know what you think.