Disclaimer: The characters are still not mine.

A/N: Thanks to Crossbow for helping proofread this chapter, and advance thanks for help with others.

Chapter Seven

"Which of your theories were you talking about?" Zimmerman asked, nervously examining the large genetically engineered man who was wading through the passengers.

"The one about us being monitored."

"Oh, that one." He looked distinctly relieved.

"What did you think I meant?"

The other doctor had no time to answer this, for at that moment, the guard grabbed Julian and hauled him to his feet. "Come with me."

"Again? You could at least say 'please,'" Bashir chided.

The guard frowned and shoved him towards the door. After tripping over a sea of legs and bodies, he was caught by two more guards, who propelled him along towards the bridge.

"Or you could shove me out the bulkhead door…" the doctor conceded.

"Such force would not be necessary if you cooperated, Julian."

He bristled slightly at Khan's familiar usage of his first name. Khan chuckled softly at his discomfort and motioned for his men to stand down. "Come, Doctor."

Julian walked after him, seeing no other choice. He was surprised to find the bridge empty when they arrived. "Do you think that I won't try to attack you, or do you think that it wouldn't do any good if I did?"

Khan's tanned face broke into an annoyingly superior smirk. "Both."

"Oh." For once he was at a loss for words. He had no idea why Khan wanted to talk to him; he only knew that it wouldn't be in his best interests. Pride wouldn't let him ask, though, so he stood there and waited.

"On the other hand, who knows exactly what you're capable of?" His sharp brown eyes took in Julian's expression of loathing. "It does not make you inferior, you know."

Seeing that Khan was waiting for a response, Bashir replied, "So my friends have told me."

"And with good reason." At that moment, Khan Singh sounded almost charming. All of his self-discipline and strength was still there, but his eyes were softer, and the tone of his voice contained a small amount of warmth. "Do you want to know why I'm saying this to you?"

"Not particularly, but I have a feeling you will anyway."

"Because I don't want you to hate me blindly. Don't you realize how you're staring at me? You hate me because we are the same, and as you look at me, you don't like what you see."

"I'm not like you," he snapped, "That's a lie."

"Do you really think so? You are a doctor, Julian. Your interest is in saving lives."

"But…"

Khan held up his hand. "Am I right so far?" Bashir nodded. "Good. I, too, have that in mind." He paced across the room to lean over a consol. Then he began to speak reminiscently. "When I lived on Earth during the Eugenics Wars, I was a mighty ruler. From 1992 through 1996, my territory stretched from Asia to the Middle East. It was more than a quarter of the world…"

"I've heard that from the time I was six," Julian answered dryly.

"I offered the world order," he insisted. "Under my rule, there were no massacres and no offensive wars."

"At the same time, you were a dictator. No one man should hold that much power, especially when he takes it by force."

"You should not talk about power that way, considering the power your Federation has over other worlds. As for taking it by force… Come with me, Doctor. There's something that I want to show you."

"Is this it?" Bashir asked as they entered a tiny room. There was a flat cot, a chair, and a desk with a couple books sitting on it.

"Tell me, Julian, can you read Sanskrit?" Khan inquired casually. At the doctor's nod, he smiled. "I hoped so. It will save me the trouble of reading this aloud to you." From a small compartment, previously hidden in a wall, he produced another old-fashioned book, bound in red leather. "This is my journal."

Bashir blinked in surprise. "You keep a journal?"

"Not anymore. I stopped after my wife died. That was a week before we completed the upgrades on our ship, so not much time was lost." A dangerous look crept into his face, and Julian shifted uncomfortably. Seeing this, Khan's expression cleared again. "This contains about twelve hundred years of history, Doctor."

"Fascinating." Despite his sarcasm, Bashir couldn't help being interested. Secrets, after all, were very appealing to him.

"I want you to read it, Julian. Perhaps you will understand me…us… a little bit better."

A feeling of déjà vu struck him, and he recalled handing Jadzia Dax his own journals from Medical School for the same reason. The little coincidence was enough to unnerve him, and a cold chill passed down his arm as he took the book. "I'm nothing like you," he pronounced unconvincingly, "but I'll still read it."

"Excellent. Then I'll leave you alone here for a while. These are my private quarters, so no one will bother you, but don't think of trying to escape. I know better than anyone that there's nothing in here that you could use."

Julian nodded, feigning resignation. There was nothing to stop him from trying to escape, but first he would read the journal. Parts were bound to be interesting, at least. Flipping open the cover, he read the first page as Khan exited the room.

"'September 12, 1988…'"