- Chapter 03 –

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Something was making her nervous, though she couldn't put her finger on what exactly it was that had been nagging at the back of her mind ever since she had woken up this morning. Quite earlier than she normally used to. Pacing up and down the small office, she threw a quick glance through the closed doors of the captain's room, absently watching the busy bustle out in OPS.

It had been more than a week, hadn't it? More than three days since she had last heard anything from Ensign Perris. And although the next contact wasn't due until tomorrow, she somehow felt a strange restlessness. It was like some bad premonition, some ill-boding feeling in the pit of her stomach that was hard to ignore, no matter how much she told herself that everything was fine and that she was just suffering from too much stress lately.

With a deep breath to calm her herself, she finally went out into OPS, trying to don a neutral expression. She needed to concentrate on more important things right now.

"Status report," she ordered as she came to a halt next to a young ensign – she dimly recalled her as Natasha Williams – whose head spun up as if she hadn't noticed Kira coming out of her office. Her lips were pressed into a thin line as she intently studied the readouts of her console as if she was anything but sure what to make of them.

"I'm... not sure, sir, but the wormhole's neutrino emissions are higher than usual. I don't think it's something to worry about, though. Given the increasing tachyon emissions caused by the unusual high traffic through the wormhole as of late, fluctuations like this are quite normal..."

With a short nod, Kira stepped down the few stairs until she was level with the young ensign. Williams' anxious expression made her wonder what the young woman wasn't telling her.

"Anything else?" Kira tried again.

"Well... some time ago the wormhole opened and closed – apparently without reason," Williams added reluctantly, her eyes shifting from her console to Kira and back.

"However, neutrino emissions are already running back to normal. As far as the computer can tell, there's nothing wrong with the wormhole."

Kira nodded, but the strange feeling in her stomach still wouldn't go away. Maybe she was just stressed. The backlog of work was awful, having kept her inside her office all day long. She had only realized that it was already late in the afternoon when she'd finally set aside her PADD for a quick cup of Raktajino some minutes ago. Massaging her sore neck, she sighed and turned to head back into her office.

"Major!"

She hadn't made it up the stairs, when a familiar voice suddenly called her back. Surprised, she turned.

"I thought I would find you here." Constable Odo was stepping from the turbolift.

Kira couldn't help a smile. "As always, I suppose. How can I help you?"

He offered her the PADD in his hands. "I'm sorry to bother you, Major, but there is something I need your help with."

Kira arched one brow at his choice of words, but then she took the PADD and quickly scrolled through the text.

"A security upgrade…" she read out the headline, "I think you already talked to Captain Sisko about this."

"Well, I have, and that's the problem. The captain's away and no one knows when he'll be back. And the upgrade is already overdue. I would feel a lot better if you gave me your permission to perform it now."

Kira nodded. "Of course…" she said absently, her face drawing into a slight frown. "I'll take care of it."

When she kept silent for several more moments, Odo cleared his throat. "So, judging from your expression, I take it the captain hasn't yet sent any message as for when to expect his return?"

Kira shook her head. "No, the last time we heard from him was three days ago."

The concern in her voice must have shown because Odo suddenly crossed his arms over his chest in that typical way of his and nodded. "I don't think it's anything to worry about, Major. The captain knows how to stay out of trouble. I'm sure they're already on their way back to the station."

Kira looked up into his mask-like face. "It's not the fact that we haven't received any message from him yet. It's just…" She tried to put the strange feeling she had into words but failed miserably at it. "Well… honestly, I don't know what it is. Everything seems alright but…"

Odo nodded, though Kira knew that he probably didn't share her concern.

"I mean, Captain Sisko's sudden departure – it was all a little bit strange. All a little bit rushed."

"Suddenly departing on a rescue mission of a crewman who was declared missing by Starfleet months ago is odd indeed. More so, when you do it in the middle of the night," Odo offered as his gaze strayed over to the big viewscreen that was now only showing the vastness of space.

Kira's lips curled up in a weak smile. "Thanks Odo. It's good to hear that I'm not the only one who doesn't consider Captain Sisko's sudden departure a regular Starfleet course of action."

With a short incline of his head, Odo took the PADD the Major was handing him back, then made his way back to the turbolift.

"If you're so concerned about Sisko and the others, I don't think Ensign Perris will mind receiving a little unexpected call from home," Odo added casually when he stepped onto the turbolift that slowly began to carry him out of sight.

For a long moment, Kira thought about his words, until she finally turned and made up her mind. Something was wrong. She still couldn't put her finger on it but there was only one way to find out. Decidedly, she moved over to Ensign Williams, asking the young woman to let her have a look at the readouts herself.

And when the data popped up on the black display, and her eyes flew over the data the computer offered her, she suddenly knew.

Staring at the console without really seeing anything, she knew for the first time that she wasn't concerned about Captain Sisko.

She was worried about the Emissary.

Reluctantly, Julian neared the thick iron door on the building's lowest level. The air down here was stale and carried a moldy smell, reminding him of some deserted, decayed cellar, forgotten to the rest of the world, hidden in a place only few knew of. A place haunted by ghosts. A place of dark secrets. Of things that made the fine hair on his arms and neck bristle up. He swallowed hard, trying to get his breathing under control, clamping down on a flutter of panic.

The long corridor that led from the elevator to this place was only dimly-lit, the meagre electrical lighting painting everything a ghostly gray, only serving to make the knots in his stomach grow. He came to a halt in front of the heavy doors, his heart hammering hard in his chest. He felt short of breath. As if his legs would give way any moment. He knew what would be waiting behind those doors. He knew it. But there was nothing he could do against it.

It was always the same.

The few meters separating the room from the elevator seemed endless to him. Wrapped into a murky twilight, with his own pounding heart as the only thing disturbing the heavy silence around him, he found all of his instincts screaming at him to go back. To get back to the surface. To run for his life and never come back.

But you don't have a choice, some small, poisonous voice told him, as he lay his hand on the cold metal door in front of him. The icy touch sent an electric jolt through his hand. Taking a deep breath and steeling himself for what was lying ahead, he finally willed himself to push the door open.

The room behind was only dim-lit, an engulfing twilight visible through the slender gap between the door's two wings. And it was the moment he looked into the darkness that was waiting for him that he felt all of his previous feelings seep away until there was nothing left but a dark fear of what was going to come. He forced himself to take a step forward, at the same time struggling not to think, refusing to let his mind form the slightest of thoughts. But when the door closed behind his back, and his eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room, he knew that he was being watched. And he felt utterly unprotected underneath his uniform. Even though he knew what was going to come, he couldn't help the feeling of helpless dread.

"Julian, there you are," a gentle, deep voice said. Julian's eyes darted to its owner who stepped slowly out of the shadows, nearing him with a slight smile on his even and almost too perfectly shaped face. With his bright white shirt and his scarlet robe, he seemed utterly out of place. An almost joyful dot of color in a bleak world of black and gray.

"You wanted to speak to me, sir."

Julian's voice was trembling, though he knew it was nothing to worry about. He never could keep it from shaking. No matter how much he knew that it was pointless, that his life wasn't his anymore and that there was nothing he could do to avoid the unavoidable, he never managed to keep his voice from shaking…

"Julian..." The other man spoke his name with something hovering very near affection. Though Julian knew better. Bracing himself for what was to come, his heart wouldn't stop hammering in his chest.

"What about your arm? I'm so sorry for everything that happened. But you know that there is no one else but yourself to blame, don't you?" The other man licked over his lips, his gaze dropping to the white bandage protruding from beneath Julian's uniform. "Does it still hurt?" He was rounding him, not taking his eyes off him. Julian still stood motionless in the middle of the room, his eyes firmly directed in front of him, trying not to show how much the older man's presence was setting his nerves on edge.

He didn't dare answer the question but he knew that not giving any answer at all would be even worse. Finally he nodded. His mouth was so dry he could hardly speak.

"Yes, it's... it'll take some time for the fracture to heal completely..."

"I see..." the scarlet-clad man nodded absently, watching the young man out of impassive eyes. "Very well." And suddenly he stopped before Julian, and his false smile fell in the blink of an eye. His mouth twitched when his perfectly shaped face drew into a dark frown.

"You know, why you are here, don't you?"

Slightly confused, Julian hesitated – and flinched when his face was thrown to the side by the sudden and violent slap of the other man's open hand. Staring numbly at the floor, not even daring to raise his hand to his throbbing cheek, he wordlessly opened his mouth. His mind was racing.

"I-I... you wanted to see me and..." he began just to be bluntly interrupted.

"There is something you wanted to tell me," the scarlet-clad man offered instead.

He knew. The thought hit him harder than the other man's slap. Julian was more than sure that he knew of the strangers. Of Jadzia and... He didn't dare finish the thought. How could he have been so naïve? How could he have thought that he would never find out about the incident? He felt a wave of fear wash over him, panic starting to overwhelm him. He couldn't think of anything but the pain. He didn't want to go through it again. Not this time. Not if he had any chance to avoid it.

"I don't know them," he sputtered. "They came into the infirmary some days ago, but I swear, I don't know them. I've never seen them..."

The next violent slap caught him by surprise, sending a sharp pain through his jaw.

"Don't you dare lie to me, Julian!" the other man shouted with still raised hand.

He felt desperate tears welling in his eyes, and struggled to force them back. He wasn't lying. But he couldn't argue about it either. If he tried to defend himself, he knew he would only make things worse.

"No, sir. Forgive me, sir," Julian pleaded instead, feeling the crushing weight of the other man's stare, wishing that he had never met those strangers. His cheek was throbbing, but it was nothing compared to the horror he felt inside. He knew that he would do about anything to make up for his mistake. He knew that it was his fault, and that he had brought all this upon him himself. He had made him angry and now he'd suffer the consequences. His eyes cast downward, it was all he could do to try to pull himself together.

Without any further word, the scarlet-clad man turned his back on the trembling young man and stiffly walked back to the far end of the room. When he came back, his hands held a shiny, golden goblet. Even though he didn't make the slightest indication, Julian reached out, taking hold of the heavy object.

"You know, what you have to do, don't you? I'm very disappointed in you, Julian. Restore my faith!"

With unsteady hands, Julian lifted the golden goblet to his lips. His face lost every bit of color when he desperately closed his eyes, taking a short sip – and subsequently felt the urge to throw up. But he fought the sickness down. He would do it. He would drink it and he would force his stomach to keep it... He wouldn't throw up any more as he had done so many times in the beginning. With the warm and viscous liquid running down his throat, he almost felt his legs give way. Squeezing his eyes shut, he swallowed convulsively until he'd drunken it all. The goblet dropped from his fingers when he hit his good hand over his mouth, retching and forcing the liquid to stay down.

"Oh Julian, look at yourself. I expect more discipline," the older man said with disdain, his gaze sweeping over the shaking young man. Then his arm shot up, his hand clawing painfully around Julian's injured arm. Julian gasped in surprise, but didn't dare put up a fight. Without another word he was being led to the back part of the room, toward the racks and metal cases that were lining the wall there. The scarlet-clad man jerked him to a halt in front of him, his face an unreadable mask. And from one moment to the other, he grabbed Bashir's broken arm and hit it square on the metal rack. Julian cried out in shock when his already wounded arm hit the strut. The second time, he was nearly about to throw up.

"I heard you tried to heal your arm, Julian?"

Panting heavily for breath, Julian felt the blood freeze in his veins. He knew. He knew that Jadzia had tried to heal his arm. The pain flaring up his elbow and shoulder was sending cold shivers through his already weak body, taking his breath and making it impossible for him to form any coherent thought.

"Give me an answer!"

The next blow was too much for him. Crying out in profound pain, Julian just collapsed, falling in a heap on the floor. Sobbing silently, he futilely tried to hold back the hot tears that were rolling down his flushed cheeks, cradling his broken arm with his good hand. His whole body was shaking with shock, and he desperately wished himself far, far away. If he just let him go. If he just spared him more pain. His shoulders shook violently as he coughed for breath. Until a warm hand touched his back, the touch almost gently, urging him to stand up again. He did what he was told. Not facing the other man, he stood again, incessantly whispering how much he was sorry and that he would never do it again – though he didn't even know what it was he wouldn't do again.

A soft touch on his chin forced his tear-filled gaze back at the elder man.

"I see, you learned your lesson well, Julian. But be warned: If you disobey my wishes again the punishment will be much more severe... For today though, we're finished. You may leave."

He didn't know what wishes the other man was talking about. He didn't know what he had done wrong concerning the strangers at all. But one thing he knew for sure: He would never see them again. Never, ever. He knew that he had disappointed him, and that he had deserved punishment. He had defied his orders by healing his broken arm. It didn't matter that it had been Jadzia who had done it, he had disobeyed. He knew he would do about anything to never disobey his orders again.

"I'm sorry, sir. I..." he started with a quivering voice, but the other man lay one finger across Julian's lips.

"For today it's enough, Julian. You may go now."

Not daring to speak up again, Julian slowly turned, not sure if his unsteady knees would carry him out of the room. When he heard the doors shut behind him, he instantly grabbed for the wall to support himself against the overwhelming weakness that was almost sending him down to the ground.

Running down the narrow corridor, Sisko threw back a quick glance every now and then, making sure that O'Brien, Dax and John were following right behind him. Ignoring the questioning gaze of some passers-by, his mind raced to recall the complex's internal structure.

"Captain, what are you doing?" a distant but angry voice called from behind.

Not slowing his pace, his first thought was to just ignore it – but then he turned, impatiently facing the angry young man who came running behind him. He didn't have time for this now.

"What I should have done more than a week ago", the captain replied curtly, struggling hard not to shout.

He had seen it. He had seen it all from the small vent John had led them to.

At first, Sisko had been anything but sure if the young engineer would keep his promise when he'd offered to show them what he wasn't willing to talk about. He hadn't been sure if John would keep his promise... It had been almost a week since he had last seen the young engineer. And Bashir. But then John's call had come, unexpectedly and out of the blue – and Sisko surely hadn't been prepared for what had come next.

But he was resolute. They were going to leave this place immediately – with Dr. Bashir. They'd bring him out of town and contact Ensign Perris. Even if the Orinoco was out of contact range they could still hide somewhere and wait. But he needed to act. Now.

"You remember your promise? Why do you think I showed you?" John shouted, shaking with barely masked anger. "You don't even know the risk it was and still is for me to bring you there. Do you think hiding in vents, eavesdropping or spying into secrets are legal measures to obtain information – even on Felan III? If anybody finds out, I'll lose my technical license – say nothing of what Telac will do to me! You saw what happened to Julian!"

"I won't leave him here any second longer – and after all you've just shown me, you should be the first to understand the reasons," Sisko retorted vigorously.

"You obviously didn't listen! I don't want you to leave Julian here, I only said there is no way of getting him out!"

Spinning round, Sisko ignored the desperate look on the blond engineer's face as he broke once again into a run. He needed to find Julian. It was all that mattered right now.

And only a few intersections later, they found him.

"Julian! Wait!" Sisko called out, slithering to halt a few meters in front of the young man, who had looked up perplexedly upon hearing his name.

At first he stared at them in surprise – until his mind seemed to catch up. Then his eyes grew wide, all color draining from his exhausted face, his mouth twisting in bewilderment. And pain Sisko realized.

With his hunched shoulders and his broken arm cradled awkwardly with his good one, Bashir was a miserable sight. He was dangerously pale, his hazel eyes shimmering with pain and distress. It was when their eyes met that Sisko suddenly realized that he had been wrong all the time. Assuming that Julian hadn't been in any immediate danger before, had been wrong. He could see it now. And he had seen it in that other room.

Julian had been broken.

How could he have not seen it before? How could he have assumed that everything was all right? Perhaps it had been him. He had wanted to get his CMO back, averting his eyes from the obvious, trying to take on where they'd left off. What a fool had he been? After what he had just seen, after the cruelty he had witnessed only minutes ago – he couldn't even imagine what Julian had already gone through in those past three months...

Seeing Bashir in that pitiful condition was like a punch in the face. Not only for him but also for Dax and O'Brien. He had seen it in their faces, the expression of open horror. They all knew Bashir. Knew his eagerness, his passion for justice, his unyielding attitude, so very different from what they had witnessed from behind the grid in that tiny vent. Having to see him so submissive and frightened, so totally lost to the other man's power, had come like an unexpected blow.

He prayed that Julian was not beyond redemption – but looking into those wide, tantalized eyes, he wasn't sure of it any more.

"Julian..." he began, gently reaching out for the young man.

"Don't touch me!" Julian all of a sudden yelled and batted his arm away. He stared at them in horror, and slowly stumbled backward, ever away from them. Tears were rushing to his eyes, his face twisting into a painful grimace. The next thing he knew, Julian had already turned and broken into a desperate run.

"Julian!"

The captain spun to Dax and O'Brien: "Just get out of here, we cannot risk spending more time here. We'll meet at the landing coordinates. I'll fetch Julian."

"Do you think you'll be able to handle him alone?" Dax threw him a concerned look.

"Leave him to me, Old Man," Sisko replied in a hurry, "just see that you get out of here as soon as possible. That man evidently knew about our encounter with Dr. Bashir. I'm sure he already knows why we're really here. Just hurry!"

Before Jadzia could form a reply, Sisko had already turned on his heels, heading off in the direction where Julian had just vanished out of sight.

"You heard him, chief. Let's get going."

He ran as fast as he could, his legs still unsteady and weak, though somehow he managed to gather up his last strength.

It was a nightmare. A never-ending nightmare.

And he could just run. Run away from it all. If he was fast enough he could make it. He felt so queasy, so sick with fear that he didn't even bother the tears that were running down his burning cheeks. Pushing all thoughts from his mind, he kept running, arbitrarily taking directions, never casting even a quick look over his shoulder, for he knew he needed every second he could get.

The lights flew by as he ran through the hallways, passing various people on his way, mainly staff of the authority complex but also tourists and children. He didn't care about their questioning gazes as he tried to make his way through them. If he could just get out. If he just made it outside.

And suddenly he fell forward, his legs held back by an obstacle he hadn't noticed in time. He hit the ground with his shoulder, crying out in pain while a tray's dishes were flung across the floor. The air was knocked from his lungs, his surroundings blurring through the tears in his eyes. He tried to roll over, scrambling to his feet, barely aware of the curious looks he was given by a growing group of passers-by who had stopped to see what all the commotion was about. Someone offered his hand to help Julian to his feet. When he managed to stand, he realized that he had just crossed the way of a young woman serving lunch. She was in quite a shock, having seeing him trip over her tray at full speed.

"Is everything ok?" she asked gently, still holding his shaky hand in hers.

Not hesitating any second longer than necessary, Julian mumbled a short "Thanks" before he turned on his heels and broke yet again into a run.

He didn't care about her perplexed look. He didn't care about any passer-by.

And finally he made it. Crashing against the glass door and wildly pushing it open, he tumbled out of the building, gasping for breath and struggling to keep his balance.

It was a warm and nice summer day, the sun still high above the horizon. He felt a soft breeze against his cheek, vaguely took in the fresh smell of grass and nature that hung in the air. Running toward the nearby woods, he gradually slowed his speed. He wouldn't find him there. None of the strangers would find him there. They would probably search for him in Velurin, or in the administrative authority's main complex, but not in the woods. Julian had been there before, he knew where to hide.

When he entered the shadowy ground and made his way through the trees, he allowed himself to relax just a little. He slumped against one of the trees, closing his eyes, and tried to fight back his mounting sickness. He felt so tired. So utterly tired and exhausted. He didn't want to go back. He didn't want to meet the strangers again. If they just let him alone...

"Julian!"

He almost choked when he heard his name. He whirled around and saw a dark figure in the distance, looming against the white sunlight outside the woods.

"Please, don't run away. We're here to help you!" the other man said – Mr. Sisko he recalled, though the name just made Julian's sickness worse.

"Keep away from me!" he yelled frantically, backing away, deeper into the woods.

"Julian, I won't hurt you. I want to help you. I know what that man did to you and I promise I won't let him hurt you again. Please, just listen to me."

He didn't. Spinning around, he broke again into a run, though he didn't make it far. Strong arms were suddenly dragging at his shoulders, pulling him back, and another second later they were both rolling on the ground. Julian fought desperately, flailing out as hard as he could, hitting Sisko's jaw and making him curse with pain and anger.

"Julian! Stop it! Please!"

A second later he had managed to roll onto his side, kicking at Sisko with both feet, forcing the captain to release his grip around his upper arms. Julian staggered to his feet, stumbling away from Sisko, the overwhelming panic lending him strength he shouldn't have had after what had just happened…

"Keep... away from me!" the young man yelled again, his face distorted as he backed away from Sisko before he broke into another desperate run.

Setting off behind him, Sisko didn't take his eyes off Bashir – and with a choked cry the young man was suddenly gone.

Slithering to a halt, the captain managed to stop in time to not make the same mistake Bashir just did: The sharp descent was short and not too steep but it had obviously caught the doctor by surprise. Sisko could only see a figure some few meters down the slope, sunken down and not moving.

Carefully making his way down and trying not to slip on the muddy ground, Sisko finally arrived next to the young man, kneeling down beside him and feeling his pulse. He let out an inner sigh of relief when he found Julian still breathing, though the young man had obviously lost consciousness. He couldn't blame him. After what had happened, it had been amazing that he had made it this far at all…

Sisko wasn't sure if he could bring him up the slope again, though. He didn't even dare think about what would happen if Bashir might wake up and offer resistance. He needed to contact Dax and O'Brien. Reaching for his combadge, a sudden movement above them caught his attention. Looking up, he froze.

"Well, well, if it isn't our dear captain. I hope you don't intend to leave us so soon."

Scowling at the other man – and the four guards surrounding him, pointing their phaser rifles at Sisko – a bad feeling already told him that they were trapped.

"Actually I do."

"Well, honestly, you won't go anywhere, Captain. You're my guests. And if you prefer the disenchanted truth of reality: You're my prisoners as well."

Silence.

Nothing but silence – and the sound of his own breathing.

In. Out. In. Out

Darkness. Something touching his forehead. A comforting feeling of warmth and security.

He felt like he were floating. In an endless ocean of silence and darkness. But something was dragging him back. Back from oblivion. Back from a world without pain. He thought he heard voices. But he was too tired to concentrate on their words. If he could just stay longer here in this nothingness – without beginning or end. Ever so slowly he felt his mind drift back toward consciousness. Back toward the cold. Back toward a world of pain. And fear. With a gasp, his eyes fluttered open.

It was dark when he woke.

Slowly he tried to turn his head, blinking and straining to see through the thick darkness that was surrounding him. But everything around him was just black. Not that he really minded. He'd grown used to the darkness by now. Sometimes he found it even comforting. Protecting. But somehow, this here was different…

…and finally the memory of what had happened came back to him, and snapped him from the twilight of sleep. The strangers. The cellar. Him running away. His heartbeat quickened as he lifted his good arm to feel for his injured one – and met something soft. He blinked, slowly realizing that it was some sort of jacket that lay across his chest. So he wasn't alone, after all…

"John?"

Julian's voice came out as barely more than a hoarse whisper. He didn't know why but if someone had brought him here, it must have been John.

"Julian? You awake?"

He didn't dare move. A warm hand gently touched his shoulder.

"It's me, John. How are you?"

"I... don't know..."

He didn't know where to start. He still felt sick and tired, his right arm numb with pain. His stomach was a mess and every breath just hurt. Recalling the sudden descent and his fall downwards, he thought it amazing that he hadn't broken any further bones. But still – his whole body felt so heavy and exhausted that he was barely able to keep his eyes open. Not that there was much to see anyway…

"Where are we?"

A moment of silence. Then John's voice, speaking softly to him again.

"That's nothing to worry about right now, Julian. You should go back to sleep and gather some strength."

Nodding in the darkness, Julian closed his eyes – and suddenly felt a painful stab even through his closed eyelids when a sudden crude light filled the room. Wincing, he covered his eyes with his good arm.

"What's going on?" an angry voice demanded, bearing an Irish accent. For the split of a second Julian thought it sounded familiar but the thought vanished as quickly as it had occurred to him.

"Recovery time has ended, I suppose." Another voice.

When he took away his arm and slowly opened his eyes, he saw them. The strangers he had first met almost two weeks ago in the infirmary. The strangers he'd wanted to avoid at all costs. He felt his heart skip a beat – and his whole body tense. What were they doing here?

"Julian?"

He recognized the young woman coming over and sitting down next to him as Jadzia. She bent over him, feeling his pulse. Her fingers were warm against his cold skin and when he looked up into her face, she offered a gentle, soothing smile. "How do you feel?"

"Better..." was everything he brought over his lips, even though his whole body felt so tense he feared it might break. Everything in him was urging him to get away from her. But he wasn't in any condition to run away right now. He didn't really have much choice.

The young woman watched him intently, as if something was not quite right with him. But finally she nodded, an affectionate smile on her face. "You'll be fine, Julian. I promise. Just try to hold out, will you?"

He was still so tired. Too tired to care much about anything. He just wished he could slide back into that great oblivion and forget everything around him...

"What will they do with us? Ensign Perris will know that something's wrong if we don't contact him in a few hours."

"At least I hope so, Chief. It's not as if we had much choice."

"Starfleet will send a rescue team, I'm sure of it. At least, once Kira gets Perris' call."

"How long do you think that will be?"

Even though he couldn't see her face, Julian noticed the concern in Jadzia's voice.

"I don't know. But we should keep in mind that we might be on our own for some time."

Trying to catch some brief glimpse of their faces, Julian tried to sit up. He didn't even make it halfway up, when his vision was suddenly drowned in darkness and he would have fallen back if John hadn't caught him in time, helping him to sit up completely. For a dreadful long moment his world wouldn't stop spinning.

It took some time for his vision to clear but then he saw them. They were sitting in a semicircle on the other side of the small cell, their heads turned into his direction. He felt their gazes like small needles all over his body.

"Julian, you really can't remember anything?" one of them suddenly said. It was the Irishman.

Julian watched him for a long moment, not sure what the other man's words were about. He didn't know them, and he didn't want to have anything to do with them. He felt trapped and vulnerable in their presence. Wherever they were from and whatever they wanted from him, he knew that it was better to never find out. His stomach lurched when the Irishman slowly scrambled to his feet.

"It's me, Miles."

Run away. As far as he could. Everywhere was better than here. He didn't know that man. He didn't know any of them. But still – they made him believe he should. But he didn't. And every nerve of his still weak body was urging him to run. Run away as far as he could...

"I don't think that's a good idea," John interrupted next to him.

Julian's eyes darted to his friend, then back to the strangers. God, don't let them come any nearer...

And then Jadzia raised her hands. "It's okay, we won't hurt him." With an imploring look at John, she finally turned to the young man on the floor.

"Julian, do you know what kind of uniform you're wearing? It's from Starfleet, like you, like all of us. It was an accident that made you crash down on this planet three months ago. We've been looking for you ever since." She was nearing him with still upraised hands.

Julian shook his head, refusing to listen to a single word the strange woman said. She had once betrayed his trust, he wouldn't trust her again. He felt panic reach out for him. The thought of having her touch him made him sick. He jerked away from her, nearly tripping over his own feet as he staggered to his unsteady feet.

"I don't know you. I don't know any of you! And I'm not Starfleet!" he yelled in a desperate attempt to convince them. To convince himself.

And then Sisko stood, straightening his uniform before he slowly came nearer, nearer, nearer. Julian stumbled backward until his back hit the wall. He stared wide-eyed at the man, frozen and unable to move.

"Captain! Stop it! You don't know what you're doing!" John jumped up from the floor, ready to put himself between Sisko and his friend, if it hadn't been for Jadzia, who grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

And finally Sisko came to a halt not two feet away from his former CMO. "Julian, I won't hurt you. But you have to listen. Please."

Julian stared at him in horror, pressing himself even harder against the wall. But there was nowhere he could go. He was trapped.

"Julian, you can remember me. I know it. The memories might be buried deep within yourself, but they are there. Trust me."

His head pressed against the moist wall, it was all he could do to stare at Sisko, terrified and lost for words. He didn't know him. Least of all trust him. He felt sick to his stomach as he frantically shook his head. No, he couldn't remember. He couldn't remember any of them. And he couldn't trust them. Escape. He had to run. Run away. The air was so thick that he couldn't breathe. His lungs still moved but he just couldn't breathe. The walls around him came tumbling closer, the floor starting to lurch but the man before him remained steady. He wasn't to come any closer. No, god, don't let him get any closer. Sisko's hand was reaching out for him – but Julian knew that it would be his end if the hand ever touched him.

And then he saw it. Saw it clearly through the haze of desperate tears. Blood was running down the man's chest. Red, crimson blood, soaking his uniform, trickling down to the floor, pooling in small puddles around his feet. Sisko's mouth was open, his eyes wide in disbelief, staring at him. Accusing him. And Julian couldn't take his eyes off the ghastly sight. He just couldn't. Make it stop. Make it stop.

He felt so nauseated. He only knew that he had to run. Run away. But his whole body was paralyzed by fear and horror. No, it can't be...can't ... can't...

He wasn't able to see into those dying eyes any longer. His stomach turned at the sight of all the blood. Flooding the ground it didn't stop. So much blood. No human body could lose so much blood... Instinctively he looked down at his own hands. The same blood was covering his hands, soaking his uniform sleeves and dripping to the ground.

"No..." he whispered, driven to within an inch of his sanity. "NO!"

o0o0o

Startled by Bashir's sudden cry, Sisko didn't offer any resistance when he was abruptly dragged back by strong hands.

"Dammit! Leave him alone!"

John's furious face came into view, pulling Sisko out of his stupor. The blond engineer brought himself between Julian and Sisko, protecting Bashir from view. He was scowling at him in a way that made Sisko for a short moment fear he would launch himself at him. But after a tension-filled second, he just spun around without another word, grabbing Julian's shoulders.

"Julian, look at me!" Trying to break the young man's horror, John shook him by his shoulders.

"Julian, it's not real, it's not real! Look at me! Please!"

It was not until John cupped his face with both hands, forcing him meet his gaze that the young man finally responded. He stared at John without really seeing him, his mind captured by a horror only he was able to see.

"Julian, none of it is real, believe me. You're safe. I'm your friend and I'll protect you. Do you hear me?"

Sisko thought he saw a short nod, sign enough for John to release his friend's face. "Okay…" He squeezed Julian's shoulder, letting out a long, silent breath of relief. "Okay." And then he abruptly spun around, shooting Sisko and the others a furious look. "Have you lost your mind? What have you been thinking? I warned you. And look what you've done." His shoulders shook with barely subdued anger. "Don't you dare touch him again. I warn you."

The last words were more than just a warning. Sisko knew that the young man was serious about it. Very serious. With a short acknowledging nod, Sisko turned round and – walking back over to Dax and O'Brien – sat down next to them.

"What do you think of it, Old Man?" Sisko asked with a quick look back at Bashir before he met their worried faces. O'Brien's brows were deeply furrowed, Dax only shook her head.

"He's traumatized. Either by the shuttle crash or by the torture. It's probably the reason why he can't recall his past life or anyone of us. It's hard to tell. We need to get him back to the station," the young Trill shook her head.

O'Brien didn't like the thought. He squinted over to where his best friend sat huddled up and motionless in one corner of the room, John talking quietly to him. He wanted to go over, try and talk to Julian – try to help him –, but he bitterly realized that he would only make things worse.

"So what can we do?"

Jadzia shook her head again, a sad expression on her young face. "Nothing, Chief. Not here anyway. I don't think Julian is aware of what happened to him or why he can't remember his life before Velurin. And we cannot risk hurting him even more." Directing her attention to Sisko, she added: "John's right, Benjamin. We should leave him alone until we're back on the Orinoco. Julian seems to have lived here for over three months before we came. His condition only worsened when we tried to get in contact with him. As long as we don't know what happened, or what that man did to him, I'd rather do nothing at all. It's the safest way."

Sisko nodded. Even though he didn't like the idea. Everything in him was urging him to act – but what good would it do to any of them? He ran an absent hand over his beard. No, he didn't like the idea at all.

She didn't look at him when she sat silently in one corner at the other side of the room, her long blond hair welling in slight curls over her bare shoulders. Her white shirt was clean again, no longer dirty and torn as he remembered it. Her expression was full of sadness, though he couldn't tell if the sadness was meant for herself or him. He didn't even try to talk to her for he knew she wouldn't answer. She never had.

Julian turned his head, no longer able to endure her sight. He sat there, knees pulled up to his chest, huddled into the corner, his back against the rough stone wall. He knew that he was still in shock. He didn't need to be a doctor to tell that he was dangerously close to losing his mind. He dimly recalled John's words, telling him that it wasn't real. But how could he be sure? How could he be sure that the cell now was real? He couldn't.

Hugging his knees closer to his shivering body, he rested his face on top of his knees. His whole body was tingling with a strange sensation. As if he were moments from away from panicking, every muscle and fiber of his body taut. He would have jumped up and run for his life hadn't the strong grip of fear held him captive and paralyzed. He couldn't run away. He felt so terrified that he wanted to cry. But the tears wouldn't come. They were burning unshed behind his closed eyes, reminding him once again that his body, his whole life was no longer his.

When the lights suddenly flickered and the faint hiss of a door registered in his ears, he didn't even look up. The next moment he felt a strong grip around both of his arms that pulled him roughly to his feet. He didn't fight them. No matter where they brought him. They would hurt him, he was sure of it. They would hurt him – and there was nothing he could do about it.

Being pushed toward the door, his eyes fell on the young girl. As if she had felt his gaze, she lifted her head, watching him out of silent eyes. When their eyes met, he felt a pang of sadness.

And he realized that the sadness was meant for him.

They had spent most of the time without talking for no one wanted to break the unpleasant, depressing silence. O'Brien sat with his back to the wall, both legs stretched out in front of him, every now and then casting a swift glance toward Julian's miserable form on the other side of the cell.

He was worried. No matter what had happened to the young man, he needed help, the sooner the better. If only their captors would show themselves. All the endless waiting was beginning to drive him crazy. He couldn't image what they had already done to Bashir. Looking at his frightened, distraught form, he felt an unsettling mix of anger and helplessness rise within him.

He hadn't spoken for hours. God, he hadn't even moved. He just sat there, huddled up like a frightened child, his eyes empty and void of emotion. Only once he had moved and turned his head, staring blankly at one empty corner of the cell. The sight had made him pray that someone was able to help Julian as soon as they made it back to DS9. He wanted his friend back.

When the lights suddenly flickered and the hiss of the door thundered through the silence of their small confines, O'Brien instinctively lifted his head. All of them – except Bashir – stared at the newcomers, though they barely seemed to notice. Two of the black-clad men walked over to Julian, roughly pulling him to his feet, about to drag him out of the cell.

"What's going on here? What do you want from Dr. Bashir?" Sisko blocked their way.

"That's no business of yours, Captain," was all the taller of the two men answered.

"It is. Dr. Bashir is one of my crewmen," Sisko replied between gritted teeth.

"You'll wait until it's your turn." The guard pointed his rifle at O'Brien. "You'll come with us."

O'Brien hesitated but with not real alternative he slowly drew himself up. After all his years on the front he knew that there was a time for waiting and a time for acting. And now was definitely none of the latter. Catching Sisko's subtle node, he nodded. "Okay, lead the way," he tried nonchalantly, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt as he followed the guards and Bashir out of the cell.

When the door finally shut close behind their backs, Sisko slammed one fist onto the ground.

"Damn!"

Their only hope lay now with Perris. If his message had made it through to DS9 they might still have a chance...

The floors were narrow and moist, with water sporadically running down from the ceiling, the air damp and stale. He didn't know how long they had been walking through the maze like tunnels with every corridor looking just the same. With every step he took further into the unknown that lay ahead, he felt his uneasiness grow.

O'Brien tried to cast a short glance over his shoulder, though there was no one following them. He wondered where Julian was. He hadn't seen him again after the guards had shoved them out of the cell. He could just hope that his friend was alright. Well, according to circumstances.

However, Julian was not the only one he was worried about right now.

Having seen what those people were capable of, he knew that this time they were in serious trouble. Only thinking back to that damp cellar and the scarlet-clad man, he felt a cold shiver run down his spine. His pulse sped up. No matter what was waiting for him, it couldn't be very pleasant. He still didn't know what their captors wanted – or why they had been arrested in the first place. But it was not so hard to guess.

His meandering thoughts were put to an abrupt end, when one of the guards grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved him through another doorway. Stumbling, O'Brien tried to regain his balance. The new room he was let into was big – really big taking into consideration that it was subterranean. It had to be, for there was not a single window, just a few small vents like those from where they had watched Julian and... O'Brien pushed the thought aside, concentrating on what lay ahead.

It was amazing, though. He had to admit.

The room he was standing in now looked like nothing he had seen so far.

It was a lab. He was standing in the middle of a huge, high-tech lab. The many blinking consoles and technical devices so different from what he had seen on the surface. It was like this here was a completely different world. Of course he knew that, even though Felan III was trying to avoid any contact with the outer world as far as possible, they did have the technology of a space faring species. It just had never occurred to him that they were actually using their knowledge for a greater aim.

"Ah, Chief O'Brien, am I right?"

The chief startled. He had been so absorbed in his own thoughts that he hadn't realized there was anybody else in the room. Only now he saw the scarlet-clad man, slowly coming over with outstretched arms like he was welcoming his guest and inviting him to have a look around.

"What is this place?" O'Brien asked hesitantly. He could hardly imagine that they were still somewhere down under the surface of Velurin or the authority's main complex. So perhaps the whole subterranean system was situated somewhere outside the city like...

And suddenly it struck him. All at once, everything made sense.

"The metal bin..." he whispered under his breath, suddenly realizing what he should have more than a week ago. Now it was obvious. Whatever this lab existed for, someone obviously didn't want the rest of the world to know. Situated far below the surface it didn't attract too much attention – apart from various emissions that could still be perceived through the thick layer of earth. The metal bin he had stumbled upon earlier must have been some sort of shield emitter, protecting the whole subterranean area from showing up on sensor readings…

"Chief, I'm glad to see you appreciate my work."

"And you are…?" O'Brien replied with a frown. But then it hit him where he'd seen the man before. How could he possibly forget the face of the man who had tortured Julian.

"Telac," the older man offered, his smile broadening which just made O'Brien's uneasiness grow. Like a rabbit in front of a snake… He tried to push the thought from his mind. Concentrate on how to get out…

"I won't bore you with small-talk, Chief. To cut a long story short: I need your help."

O'Brien's brow furrowed suspiciously. "For what?"

Turning his back to the Irishman, Telac quietly walked across the room, beckoning O'Brien to follow.

"Well, to be honest, I need you to help me with my latest work." Tapping a few buttons on the black console in front of him, Telac made a technical scheme appear on the monitor above their heads. O'Brien didn't even need to have a closer look at what was hovering in bright green letters above their heads.

"A bomb?" O'Brien asked, incredulous. He frowned. "What is it meant for? You don't intend to start a war with your own people – or anybody else?"

Telac shook his head, still smiling. "I do not intend to start a war, Chief. I'm going to end one. I'm going to destroy the wormhole to the Alpha Quadrant."

O'Brien nearly choked on Telac's last statement. "You can't be serious. And you can't expect me to help you!" He wasn't sure if the other man knew what he was talking about. But obviously he didn't. O'Brien had expected many things, but certainly not this.

The smile on the other man's face suddenly fell, leaving behind a calculating, cruel look that made a cold shiver run down the chief's spine.

"How amazing. Our dear Julian had said just the same. Nevertheless you will help me, I promise…"