Dr. Julian Bashir sat in his office, busily entering data for his daily report when his combadge sounded.

"MacKade to Bashir."

Julian paused to tap the badge, "Bashir here."

The voice of DS9's Scientific Advisor was steady, if a bit soft as it came through, "Dr. would you mind stopping by my quarters after your shift ends?"

He frowned with concern. Samantha MacKade was brilliant but stubborn and certainly no fan of his. Most annoying man this side of the wormhole was the quote Chief O'Brien had given him. Hell, it had taken an act of God to get her to the infirmary for a physical. Now she was asking for him directly? "Sam? What's wrong?"

"Just when you've got a moment," was the tight reply, "No rush, MacKade out."

Julian was instantly on his feet, medical kit in hand. She had told him not to rush but something in her tone suggested otherwise. He was at her door buzzing the chime in three minutes flat.

The door hissed open, revealing the occupant on the other side. She was a beautiful woman who's many attributes were not lost on the doctor. Tall and slim with deep green eyes that sparkled like emeralds and always seemed to be challenging him. Normally she was clad in black, her clothes close fitting, durable and practical with a bit of an edge. Tonight, quite the opposite, a simple wrap tunic and pants set woven of aqua blue Tholian silk. Her brunette hair typically tied back fell in long, loose waves over her shoulders. She looked quite vulnerable to Julian.

Sam gave a small smile, "I should have known you'd be quick. Please, come in."

Julian entered, taking note of her pale complexion and tense features, "You had me concerned, what's going on?"

She held his gaze for a long moment before relenting to her better judgement, "I need your help," she said at last.

Before he could press further, she turned her back to him. With a heavy sigh she untied the belt of her tunic, her movements were slow and stilted as she slipped the garment off her shoulders and down her back. She wore nothing underneath and Julian could see why. A dozen deep, angry lashes crisscrossed her back leaving the flesh badly bruised, broken and bloody.

"My God."

Sam cast a glance over her shoulder then to the floor, crossing her arms defensibly over her breasts, "I didn't want to go to the infirmary. Too many people."

Julian led her to the sofa, immediately administering a heavy dose of pain killers before focusing his medical expertise on repairing the damaged tissue. At the first contact of the dermal regenerator to her skin Sam flinched, her breath catching. He instantly stilled his movements, "I'm sorry… I'm so sorry."

Sam didn't reply but took a large sofa cushion and held it tightly against her chest. Julian gently laid a hand on her shoulder hoping to offer a bit of comfort. At her slight nod, he continued his work. He went slowly, taking care to cause as little discomfort as he could as he mended the broken flesh. It was nearly an hour before he was finished, and she had said nothing as he worked.

Satisfied that no infection had set in, he helped her slip the tunic on, "You will likely be stiff for a few days, antioxidant rich fluids will help speed the healing along."

"Thank you, doctor," she quietly replied. After tying the tunic closed, she turned to face him.

Julian reached for Sam's cold hands which she held clamped tightly together in her lap. Every muscle in her body was tight with tension as if relaxing meant falling apart all together. "I wish you had called me sooner, no good comes from suffering."

Sam couldn't take the Julian's kindness. The sympathy in his velvet brown eyes grated on her raw nerves. She withdrew her hands and stood to pace, "Its fine, you had a job to do."

"I'm a doctor, caring for people is my job, that includes you."

Sam crossed her arms tightly across her chest as she walked the room. She was trying her best to brush away his concerns, but the events of the past several days were pressing in on her now. She felt like a piece of brittle glass, fragile. Ready to shatter any moment. Julian had repaired the external damage, but inside she was far from healed. "I know, I know, of course … you're a brilliant doctor I… I just… I'm fine."

Julian crossed the room, his concern growing. He gently took hold of her shoulders to stop her pacing, "Sam, stop."

Even now, forced to be still, she refused to meet his worried gaze, "I'm fine. Honestly, I'm okay."

"Samantha, look at me," he instructed, his voice soft.

Finally, her eyes raised to meet his. The pain and brokenness he saw reflected in the green depths took his breath away and nearly caused him to miss how dilated her pupils were, "Sam?"

"I'm fine!" she insisted, panic edging into her voice, "I'm fine, never better, all good! Tip… top…" Suddenly her words trailed off.

"Damn!" Julian bit off an oath as Sam's eyes rolled back and she collapsed into his arms. He easily swept her up and carried her back to the sofa. She didn't stir as Julian made his examination; the tricorder confirmed what he already knew. Pulse weak, breathing shallow, body temperature lowered, all signs of shock.

Julian cursed himself for his foolishness as he settled a thermal blanket over Sam's still form. It was ridiculous to think that she'd made it through a week on that Cardassian prison transport vessel without a scratch. After all, Captain Sisko was still recovering from his injuries in the infirmary, from all accounts the two of them had barely escaped with their lives. Julian Bashir was the chief medical officer and a seasoned doctor besides; he should have insisted on an examination the minute she set foot back on DS9. His error in judgement had resulted in her deteriorated condition, and he hated himself for it.

He quickly administered another hypospray to counter the shock, yet it was several minutes before Sam showed signs of improvement.

Consciousness came back to her all at once. She bolted upright, sending Julian's tricorder flying. Her gaze wild and unfocused seemed to look straight through him.

Julian rushed to calm her, "Sam, its alright. You're safe."

Sam said nothing, her panicked eyes darted around the room either not recognizing her surroundings or not trusting them to be true.

"Sam… Samantha," Julian tried again, his voice calm and steady. He framed her pale face in his hands, gently but firmly forcing her to look at him, "Samantha, its Julian. Can you hear me?"

She blinked several times, recognition finally registering on her features, " Julian?"

He nodded.

Her brows knit together in confusion, "Where am I?"

"You're on the sofa in your quarters," Julian explained, taking her wrist in his fingers to measure her pulse which he was relieved to find growing stronger.

She frowned still not entirely sure if she believed that she was indeed back home. The mind could play tricks, especially if the heart wanted something bad enough.

Julian studied her for a moment, uncertainty plain on her face, "Where did you think you were?"

"I don't know," she murmured, dropping her gaze to her lap.

"You were back on that prison ship, weren't you?"

"No. I don't know… maybe?" Sam shook her head, trying to clear her muddled thoughts, "I don't remember much after calling you."

"You've experienced a trauma, its natural that your memory would be a bit fuzzy," Julian reasoned, "But you are safe here, I won't let anything happen to you."

It was at that moment that the true weight of her experience on that god forsaken freighter truly hit. Her eyes welled with tears and her voice broke on a word, "Julian…"

The doctor drew Sam into his arms, holding her tightly against his chest. She trembled; her whole frame wracked with silent sobs while her tears soaked the front of his uniform.

"Its alright, you're safe now," Julian whispered, tucking her head under his chin as if comforting a small child. He repeated those words over and over again, knowing just how much she needed to hear and believe them.

He wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, eventually she stopped shaking and her tears dried. She drew back and regarded him with shadowed eyes and a rather sheepish expression, obviously uncomfortable having such an unguarded moment in front of him. In the absence of the warmth Julian's embrace provided, she shivered, "Cold?"

She lifted a shoulder, "A bit."

"I know just the thing," he said, crossing the room to the replicator. He soon returned to her side with a pot of tea, two cups and a selection of biscuits arranged on a tray.

"Tarkalean tea," Julian announced, pouring a cup and handed it to her. "One of the most perfect beverages in the known universe and full of medicinal properties."

Sam gratefully accepted the steaming cup. Taking a sip, she sputtered slightly, "Wow!"

Julian looked up from his own cup, "Too hot?"

"Sweet," she said, wrinkling her nose, "How much sugar did you put in that?"

"The perfect amount, thank you very much," he told her with authority, "Just try a biscuit with it, you'll see."

Sam arched a skeptical brow before popping a macaroon into her mouth. Contemplating the flavor, she shook her head, "You have the culinary palate of a ten-year-old."

"A sophisticated ten-year-old," he protested, taking a biscuit for himself.

She smiled in spite of herself and proceeded to finish two more cups of tea.

Julian was pleased to see a faint blush of color return to her cheeks. Tarkalean tea, a medical marvel indeed.

Sam set her cup back on the tray, grateful to feel warm again for the first time in a week. Julian seemed content to drink his tea in a companionable, yet uncharacteristic silence. During her time on the station she had never known the chief medical officer to hold his tongue. The man was constantly yammering on about whatever popped into his head, an infuriating habit. With his lanky build, big brown eyes and make friends first ask questions later personality, he reminded her of an over eager Labrador. With that warmth from his famous tea came a sudden and strong wave of fatigue. She stifled a yawn with the back of her hand, "Oh, I'm sorry."

Julian smiled with understanding, "Don't apologize, you're exhausted. You need rest and plenty of it." He stood and offered Sam a hand, "Time for bed."

Too tired to argue, Sam took his hand, "I think I can make it on my own," she said, betrayed by the fact that she swayed just standing there.

Julian wrapped a supportive arm around her waist, "Humor me, hmm?"

Sam's eyelids were already starting to droop by the time Julian was drawing the soft blanket up to her chin, "Do you tuck all of your patients into bed?"

"Standard procedure," he replied with a smile, "For a house call."

"Thank you, Julian," she murmured, her eyes drifting shut.

"Rest," he advised kindly, "I'll be in the next room if you need me."

"Mmm… okay."

Julian, ever the physician, made another scan with his tricorder just to be sure she was indeed stable. Satisfied with the results, he whispered, "Sleep well," before letting himself out of her bedroom to make a place for himself to sleep on the sofa.