"Julian."

He cringed, sharply enough to jar himself against the interior wall, away from the sound of that familiar, melodious semi-whisper. Of all the people he could have encountered in this starkly grey and claustrophobic space… Oh, God. Not now.

He was shuddering, every intake of air a shallow, shattered gasp - almost too ragged to be classed as a breath. But, no. Not here. Not Dax. She mustn't see him so broken. He glanced up at his companion's china-white face, but just as quickly covered his eyes again, to hide the pain upon it behind two open hands.

But the speaker did not leave. Instead, she stepped inside and waited for the doors to close, before crossing her legs and dropping smoothly to a seated position at his side. Feeling sick, Julian drew both legs up against his chest to block the advance of this tall, supple Trill.

"Habitat Ring." Dax spoke softly, but the computer's response was immediate, automatic, and abhorrently loud. The quiet, high chime was followed an instant later by the steady whirr of the lift commencing its course. Pulsing light filled Bashir's vision - mounting and fading throughout the enclosed compartment. Before long, the rhythmic glow on every side expanded on every side to fill his awareness, the motion causing both occupants to rock and sway.

Dax's voice sounded again - this time even quieter than the last. "Halt turbolift."

Never far below the surface, alarm unfurled anew at the centre of Bashir's thin chest, like a thorny seedling the had stirred itself out of its winter dormancy.

"What are you doing?"

Instead of an answer, he found only the unwavering polar blue of Dax's eyes. Shame gripped his throat, at the sight of his own reflected image upon their surface. And had there not also been the ghost of a challenge behind the serenity of that flawlessly sculpted face?

"I'm… I'm sorry. Dax. I didn't mean…"

"Don't be," came her sotto voce response, soothing and painful all at once. Bashir was grateful not to have heard any reproach behind her words, but still he shied away from her touch of her hand on his arm. Its gentle, even stroke took only a moment to shift across to his upper back.

No. Don't. With a sudden, unexpected cry, he lifted his arms in a brief but desperate struggle to push her away. Or was it himself he was trying so hard to expel from the scene? "No," he begged, although his words barely emerged with as little breath as he had to give them power. "Please - please, not here."

She wouldn't let him get away - spreading her hand instead with increasing pressure across his opposite shoulder, using her own strength to bring him closer. "Shh…" she whispered in his ear.

"Oh, God."

Folding more tightly against himself than he'd ever imagined he was able to be, Julian collapsed sideways against her shoulder and pressed both fists to the sides of his skull. He was cold and weak, trembling beyond even the strength of Dax's arms to ease. It would not have mattered if he had attempted to flee, or even if there had been anywhere to go. Even his second escape from the Vorta Deyos made very little difference in the end. He was breaking apart, the intricate threads that had given him his spark of life now unravelling like a fractured spider web.

Grasping the back of his head, Jadzia smoothed his hair with an open hand. "Shh," she said again, "Don't hold back. I promise never to tell a soul."

Finally she looked up, and spoke in a voice that was barely above the threshold of even Bashir's keen hearing. "Computer, resume."

Lieutenant Commander Dax had not expected to find the turbolift already occupied. The doors had slid aside with their usual distinctive reverberations, but had revealed no-one in the initial moments of opening. Even now, she still carried a memory of her own reaction, the sharply visceral shock running through every one of her nerves, so immediate that her conscious mind had not at first taken account of what her eyes had discovered. The figure of a man crouched in a corner - as far from sight as the limited space would allow him to be.

"Come on," she said to Bashir as the doors opened again, this time onto a dim and deserted passage. She guided him to his feet, where he stood in a corner and hunched over like a man of several times his age. Taking his hand, Dax sensed that he had not stopped shivering as though from a deep chill. He followed slowly - stumbling with every metre that they had covered along the smooth carpet of the hall.

There was little space to cover before they reached the door to Bashir's own quarters, arriving simultaneously to stand by the entrance. Jadzia turned back with a troubled frown, and noticed that Bashir had raised a hand to grip the nearest wall. Now, even more than she had on first hearing of the Ragnarok's capture, she worried. "Perhaps I should call Doctor Hayes," she suggested, watching tentatively to see how he would react. "There might be something he can do…"

She waited for an uneasy moment - just long enough to see Julian shake his head. His next breaths were sharp and irregular as he averted his eyes from Jadzia's.

The rooms were as quiet as when Bashir had left them behind, and every bit as insulated from the remaining sections of the station. He had said nothing to Dax as the door was activated to open, stepping through only slightly ahead of his paler companion, and standing aside to allow her to follow after him. A perfectly sculpted, slightly melancholy smile had appeared upon her face.

She's still beautiful, he thought, although somewhat forlornly - but was gladder than ever to have found that their friendship had survived the months apart. Too tired to argue, he discovered before long that to follow Jadzia was the path of least resistance, trailing behind her to where a smaller compartment was positioned directly adjacent to the central living space.

"Wait there," she told him.

He waited with head bowed, noticing that Dax's eyes glistened with a clearer blue than he had seen in many months. Dax forced herself to concentrate on her task, bustling around, pulling back the sheets and adjusting them until they draped smoothly across one end of the mattress. Bashir made no protest as she directed him to shed his outer jacket, which she folded carefully and set it atop the nearest free surface. He kept his own gaze low - feeling defeated. Humiliated, and entirely certain that the effect had shown in his eyes.

But what was that feeling that continued to surge forth like a wave of acid bile? That powerful, chemical terror that held him like a vice at the first clear sight of his own room? Dax paused as he did, sage blue eyes reconnecting with his even as she scanned every small nuance of his expression. "It's all right, Julian. We're safe here."

"No." Even as he spoke, Bashir was asking himself from where this sudden bitter certainty could possibly have come. "We're not. You can't be safe from the Dominion. They can take you from anywhere, at any time. You never know they're coming after you until it's too late, and that's it. You're their prisoner, and there's nothing you can do…"

"You managed to get away from that prison camp, didn't you?" Jadzia reminded him. "And don't forget, it was your message that stopped the whole Bajoran system from going up in flames."

Maybe. He remembered sending that message - with no idea of what the changeling that replaced him had planned. No idea of how close they had come to a point of no return. And for a Founder to have so effortlessly taken his place, invading all that was personal to him… Even now, the thought was still a haunting one. If it had not been for Tain's ingenuity - and Worf, and Garak, and that runabout above the asteroid's sterile surface… Bashir rubbed a shaking hand across his eyes, chest struggling to force another laboured breath.

Jadzia hesitated, as if to say more. But whatever further comment might once have hovered between them faded rapidly to nothing. Slowly and smoothly, one arm positioned around his shoulders once again, she directed him to settle along the length of his own bed.

"It's like…" Bashir was shuddering visibly now. Words tumbled forward - rapid and halting along with the hopelessness that stifled his voice. "I feel like I'm stuck halfway up a cliff. And I'm slipping to the bottom of the rocks, and with the water crashing over my head. And… and there's nothing left to hold on to. There isn't any room to breathe. Nothing to…"

He stopped, as suddenly as if someone had pressed a button on a computer screen. "I'm sorry, Dax. I didn't mean to burden you with all of this…"

Conscientiously deliberate, Dax removed the shoes from his feet and set them parallel to the nearest wall. The expression on her face was still thoughtful, troubled - with a line of a frown gathering between both sculpted brows.

"Sorry…" He tried again to apologise, but could not bring himself to believe that he had succeeded.

Dax interrupted by clasping his right hand securely in hers, and enfolding them both in the fingers of her left. "Julian," she persisted. "Whatever else happens, never forget you still have this." The surface of her skin was naturally cold, but Julian's fingertips were scarcely any warmer. She kept her clear-eyed gaze trained upon him.

"This," she repeated. "Our friendship. I mean it. You have nothing to apologise for. And you have to know that you can count on me as a friend. You've helped us all so many times in the past. Now how can I convince you to let us tryto do the same?"

Bashir felt his eyelids growing heavy, a soft ache coming to his head, and his thoughts now increasingly sluggish. "But, what if…?"

"Don't think about it," Dax cut him short. "Just close your eyes. I swear we'll all still be here when you wake."

Jadzia Dax stayed with him a long time after the rest of the scene had grown still as a picture. Watching, keeping her distance as the last remaining chord that tied her friend to wakefulness was finally allowed to come untangled and drift away.

"Computer. Half lights," she muttered. Sighing deeply, she turned and located the outline of a thick, leather-backed chair. The surface creaked softly as she settled upon it. No-one - not even O'Brien - had spoken to her about their escapade into Cardassian space. She knew only what her imagination had told her. And of all that she had guessed, she had never so much as thought to press Benjamin for confirmation. There were some things about which even she could not find the will to indulge in gossip.

In her mind, she had pictured a hard, stone dam - a re-enforced but neglected wall, with a base twice as thick as its rim. Structures such as this could be found all over the Federation, strong but neglected. Microscopic fractures would grow across their walls. They would split so minutely at first that no-one would notice without the benefit of scanning equipment - too slowly for humanoid sight to perceive, but to Dax's mind they were as deep and broad as the sharpest chasms.

Blocks of previously hardy materials would dissolve away to nothing, and a powerful fortress would break apart and tumble to the depths. From a few hairline splits, all that would stand once the pressure of the river had abated would be a gaping, jagged ruin. The white of the water was rough and solid, churning to a painfully ice-cold, textured foam.

There was a sound in front of her, a mumbled voice that she had felt as much as heard - but which brought her back from the chill of her dream. She blinked the sleep from her eyes - and found herself surrounded by thick, semi-metallic walls, but without the familiarity of the newly furbished quarters she had recently begun to share with Worf.

It took her another moment to remember why she had come to this place - and another to figure out how she could have grown so tired. "Julian?" she ventured. Her friend stirred convulsively, like a bird held prisoner behind the bars of an undersized cage. A soft groan escaped through his lips, but with a voice too soft to make himself easily heard.

"What, Julian? What is it?"

She could see the fractured rise and fall of Bashir's chest, punctuated as it was by arrhythmic, staccato cries. His eyes were closed, but flicked back and forth, still trapped at a point beyond the reach of true awareness, too exhausted to escape from sleep, but with the sheen of sweat beading across the surface of his skin.

Clasping a corner of the covers in each hand, Dax pulled them up until the edge was securely draped over the contour of his shoulders. The warm, even pressure of the sheets across his body could still offer some meagre comfort. With luck, Dax added to herself, watching anxiously.

"I… I don't…" Bashir's voice tapered to a whisper, and finally to silence as - clutching the bedclothes to himself, he shifted, and mumbled a continuous wordless protest in his sleep - but settled before he could reawaken.

Never quite awake, never quite asleep. Moments of sentience accompanied by flashes of pure terror as half remembered demons rose through his nightmares. Their thin, clawed hands raked across his throat and Julian knew, even with the fog of semi-awareness, that lukewarm sweat was sticky upon his skin.

He woke feeling slightly ill, dizzy from the excess heat still trapped at his body's core. He was not the only one in his quarters, he realised with the gradual departure from sleep. Through the walls came a sound of muffled voices - hushed, but as steady as the flow of water as a slender creek had run past Liam and Corinna Anderson's guest room window.

Bashir grunted, twisting away from the bed and pressing a hand to the side of his face. Restless half sleep had robbed him of energy, leaving him with barely enough to force his eyes to open. He grimaced slightly as he forced himself upright on unsteady feet, and stumbled the short distance to the bedroom door. Brief but distant apprehension held him back, coupled with an image of the tableau he knew would await him on the other side.

"Morning," Jadzia half-called, half-sang to the man who stood partway between the two connected rooms. In the seat beside her, another face looked up and offered the same pleasant smile - free for the moment of conditions or questions.

"Morning?" Feeling strangely bewildered, Bashir looked from one face to the other. "How long was I asleep?"

Dax now bore the familiar teasing half-smile as he'd seen upon her face many times. But it was Corinna who answered. "About eleven hours, wasn't it?"

"Eleven and a half," confirmed Dax.

So many? Julian padded across the floor to join both women at the table. He eased himself into one of the nearby chairs, bones creaking like those of a very old man.

It won't be long, he guessed. Two weeks. Maybe a month. He looked up again, hiding his thoughts behind a mask of quiet politeness. "Were you here all this time?" he asked.

"Not entirely," admitted Jadzia. "There was something I still had to do for Odo, but after Corinna came, we took turns."

"Why?"

Dax raised her eyebrows. "I promised," she responded simply.

"Oh." A mischievous, almost impish gleam twinkled brightly across the surface of her eyes. Bashir found himself focusing hard on the image of her face, determined to capture every detail as though with the memory of a holo-cam. Hers was the smile he had most longed to see - if only for one final time. Maintaining a serene and yet peculiarly disarming expression, Jadzia reached behind her. "There was another thing… I fixed your bear."

"You didn't have to do that." Bashir fingered the line of miniscule stitches where there had once been a patch of thinning material on Kukalaka's flank.

But Jadzia's smile persisted, leaving him no room for protests. "I wanted to."

There was a pause. "I should…" Nodding over his shoulder, Bashir indicated the replicator. Whatever else, these were still his quarters. A good host did not neglect the needs of his guests. He noted two identical mugs already set upon the table - with condensation gathering along their sides, but no steam coming from their tops. "I'll make us breakfast," he offered, still glancing to the other side of the room. "What's your pleasure?"

"That's all right - we've already eaten."

Julian found Jadzia's tone a little too flippant, but had Say something, he fretted as the silence extended from seconds to minutes. Anything. Just, open your mouth and talk.

"Uh…"

"Another drink might be nice," Corinna suggested, holding up her mug, but stopped her cousin before he could rise from his place. "I'll get it."

Julian stared, ever more intently, at the shadow that Kukalaka cast across his furniture. Just say something. Anything. It's far too quiet. But his thoughts could only revolve, and repeat - stuck on a loop, stifling his voice before he could bring it to the fore. His eyes were quick to locate Dax, who continued to watch him steadily.

Anything.

"I'd have thought you'd be back at home with Worf by now."

"Don't worry. He'll understand."

"Worf?" The man sitting beside her blinked in quiet disbelief. "Understand? Are we still talking about the same person?"

A chuckle formed from behind Dax's throat. "Well - perhaps not. But I've brought him out of a few bad moods before now. Don't worry. I can handle Worf."

Before long, she had returned her attention to the expression in his eyes, as Corinna sat down at the same time with another round of steaming raktajinos. The smiles that had once touched both their faces were entirely gone. "To be honest," said Jadzia, her voice low. "The one I'm really worried about is you."