Hidden Memories – Chapter 8
The next days passed in an almost ghostly routine.
Most of the time he spent in his quarters, the early hours reserved for his meetings with Counselor Telnorri, packed with a lot of questions he would have liked to never be asked. Remembering things still hurt a lot – but speaking about them was almost impossible. So he kept stalling whenever there was a chance to, telling the counselor things he wanted to hear, avoiding his real feelings as far as possible…
Inside himself, he felt sorry for giving the older Bajoran counselor such difficult times. Julian knew – he'd never made quite an easy patient before either. But no matter how much he knew that counseling was exactly the thing he would have prescirbed himself if it had been someone of his patients who had experienced things like he had – being the one to answer those questions changed things a lot. He didn't want any help. And he didn't need any. There wasn't much to talk about or to clarify anyway. The only thing he longed for was being left alone. Being left alone so he could banish what had happened out of his mind, gaining a puny, brief respite before it all broke back upon him in yet another moment of inattention…
When he came back from their sessions it was usually time for lunch, though Julian never felt hungry. Sometimes he ate, sometimes he just sat on the couch musing upon if he could ever forget those past three months. The PADDs he had retrieved from the drawer the morning when John had come to accompany him to his first session with the counselor were still lying on the very spot Julian had shoved them at, their displays black and lifeless. He hadn't touched them again since that morning.
Once in a while somebody came to see him, though he couldn't say he was glad about it. Luckily those visits were short and far in between. Obviously they had decided to give him as much time as he needed to feel back at home.
If it were that easy…He talked with them – never about what had happened, though – but all he desired was to be left alone. He wasn't restricted to his quarters but mostly remained there all the same. When he was alone he tried to sleep – though sleep never came. He didn't know how long he was lying awake, not able to leave reality behind, not able to glide into that vast darkness of sleep. He hadn't told Telnorri, though he must have remarked his tired expression; how Julian often leaned back during their conversations and ran two fingers over the back of his nose, trying not to rub his strained eyes and let him know that he had barely slept the night before.
Yes, his life had come back to routine, to everyday life, but it wasn't the same anymore. He tried to reintegrate, he tried to take on where he had left off – but somehow things just didn't go the right way. If he just didn't have so much time to think about everything. The few hours asleep were filled with nightmares and even awake he was never able to push the ever-lingering uneasiness aside. Sometimes he woke in the middle of the night – panting heavily, his body bathed in sweat, his heart racing merciless in his aching chest; It was always in those dark, dreadful moments that Julian – disorientated and lost at first – was already expecting to see Telac standing in the opposite door frame. Watching him and grinning his perfect, sadistic smile. No matter how much he knew that he no longer was in Telac's immediate clutch – who could have granted him that this was not yet another of Telac's perverse illusions to trick him into yet another false feeling of security?
If he just had something to concentrate on, if he could just finally find again what had been lost during those past months – what had been taken from him. Something he needed for life. Something he never really had considered that he was able to lose, before.
He still tried to avoid Sisko whenever possible. Speaking about what had happened between both of them had helped a lot. He still could recall his captain's words, telling him that it hadn't been his fault, that no matter his twisted truth of reality, Julian was not to blame himself for what had happened on Felan III. That everything had been an accident.
Accident…that's one way to describe it.
But still he didn't feel up to face Sisko any more than he had to. So trying to avoid his captain – as well as his friends – had become an essential part of his daily routine. And it wasn't even that hard to accomplish. Everybody was busy. With their work. With the Dominion. With keeping this very station running. It wasn't that hard to go unnoticed and Julian was glad for it. Still torn between helplessness and indifference, Julian somehow managed to pass hour by hour, day by day.
Somehow eluding his friends, the very people who had cared so much about him, who had finally come for his rescue, the very people who had ended Telac's nightmare, felt wrong. The feeling of guilt whenever he tried to avoid O'Brien's call, pretending to be asleep, pretending to be at the session with Counselor Telnorri, stabbed hard through his heart. But after what had happened in the cellar – after he had thought Miles had been killed – Julian just didn't feel up to face his former friend any longer. And neither did he feel up to meet John.
He knew it was wrong. He knew that Dax and O'Brien, Kira, John and all the other just wanted to help. But Julian wasn't sure he wanted their help. Not any longer; for nothing could grant him, that his trust wouldn't yet again be futile. He was on his own…
So he kept musing upon things. And tried to reintegrate into his old life.
"My dear doctor, you've barely touched your food at all. What's wrong with the pasta today? Some sort of replicator malfunctioning? I thought you liked Italian food – wouldn't it be a better idea to call Chief O'Brien?"
Garak was watching his dining companion with an expression hovering between worry and amusement, as he pointed casually towards the young man's still full loaded dining plate. Julian had chosen some noodles at random, not very keen on dining anyway. Letting his gaze wander over the promenade's lower level, the young man barely seemed to notice the ironic undertone that was accompanying the tailors last words.
"There's no need to. The pasta is fine," Julian replied vaguely as he kept stabbing noodles at random, shoving them from one side of the plate to the other – only that there wasn't that much space to move them around for there wasn't much missing of the original composition.
"Well, than most probably it is something about our present dining place."
Julian lifted his gaze to cast Garak a quizzical look, but the tailor simply flashed another one of his hard-to-interpret smiles as he focused his attention back to his Cardassian Soub, took a fork-load of the brown, thick mass but hesitated then, as if anticipating his friend's following question.
"What do you mean?" Julian non-charlantly leaned back, posing his fork next to the almost untouched dinner.
"But doctor, isn't it obvious. You somehow don't feel at ease. All those passers-by you keep squinting at. And you haven't even touched your food. I thought after the time in confinement you would savor the taste of real, terranean food."
Bashir seemed to get stiff at that, turning to watch some Bajoran civilians leaving the airlock next to them. It was still late morning – they had dinner to a quite different time than they usually used to – but even though there had only been a few singular customers around the replimat the time they had arrived, the place was now gradually filling with more and more people. Garak was right, he wasn't at ease with their present location, though Julian would never allow himself to admit it. It was just that a quieter surrounding would have been easier on him – after he had spent most of the last days alone, anyway. Noisy, crowded places just made him uneasy…
Trying not to squint at all those newcomers now lining up in front of the replicator, he directed his gaze back towards the Cardassian tailor, trying to focus his attention back on the conversation. "I had real food, Garak," he retorted warily at length.
"Oh, really? And I've always thought that it's the rough treatment that qualifies being a prisoner." Garak once again flashed his enigmatic smile, making Julian feel more and more closed in. But it was only about some minutes more until Garak would finally have finished the last remainings of the Soub. Julian could endure that.
"They had… different ways," the young doctor simply said, not keen on letting Garak intrude in private things that were none of his business. "I had food – at least most of the time."
"Then I guess you were quite lucky."
"I wouldn't actually call it luck." Julian folded both hands defensively in front of his chest, trying not to respond to Garaks obvious teasing as he instead kept watching the various passers-by. Surveying all the bulky struts, the weak illumination, the promenade suddenly seemed to have lost a great deal of its vastness. Had it always been that crowded on DS9? He hadn't noticed before. But… he hadn't noticed so many other things before, either.
"But you're here. Fate must have decided in favor of you. If you're not believing in luck, you perhaps do believe in fate?" Replacing the fork on the empty plate, Garak took up time to retrieve the napkin from his lap, folded it delicately before he placed it back on the tray.
"Fate didn't have to do anything with it," Julian impatiently said. He was already about to add some further words, but suddenly held back.
It's not worth the trouble. He wouldn't understand anyway.
"So have you met Dr. Selaran yet? She's a quite beautiful woman. A bit too honest and naïve, but still very pretty – for a human," Garak suddenly changed topics, gesturing vaguely toward the infirmary with his fork.
His words made Julian involuntarily flinch, quickening his heart in a moment's notice as his gaze reluctantly followed Garak's, then darted back toward his plate the next second.
"No," he succinctly retorted, about to dredge himself up and retrieve the tray with his untouched food. He hadn't been to the infirmary. At least not after he had been released almost two weeks ago. Not yet. And he probably would never be again…
"Tell me, doctor, you once used to be a more talkative person, didn't you?"
Cocking up his head in disbelief, Julian stared at the Cardassian. Garak's self-righteous smile was like slap across the face. Trying to keep his temper low, Julian's grip around the rim of the tray tightened as he tried not to let his composure slip. Arguing with the Cardassian about things like that – private things – just wasn't worth the trouble; but still Garak's words hurt more deeply that the tailor probably knew.
Placing the tray back on the table, Julian propped himself onto it. "Look Garak, I'm just dining here with you because Telnorri asked me to do so. I'm sorry if I'm no longer the talkative person you prefer to have in your company. It wasn't my choice."
He wanted to say so much more, the words already on the fore, Julian barely able to hold them back. But somehow he couldn't, swallowing them back as he inhaled deeply. Garak sitting in front of him, nagging at him and teasing him that he wasn't the same person he used to be. How could he even expect Julian to go on as if nothing had ever happened? How could he just sit there, his smug face so arrogant, so inquiring, so… self satisfied, blaming Julian for not being the same person like before? Why did everyone expect him to be that easy-structured?
"If I didn't know you, I'd say you just insulted me," Garak cautiously pointed out.
When Bashir didn't respond, Garak just nodded. "I see, our dear doctor has lost some of his naivete."
Even before the young man could open his mouth in an angry response, Garak had already lifted the cup of tea to his lips, and said – before he took another great gulp of the lukewarm berry-scented beverage: "So when are you going to see Dr. Selaran?"
Slightly stunned, Julian instinctively turned his gaze toward the promenade and the long row of stalls, the temple and –
"I won't," Bashir cut it short, completely ignoring the curious but dismayed looks some of the other visitors of the replimat shot him. Most likely they must have overheard, now slightly incredulous about the news that had presumably already spread through the whole space station and which they had witnessed to be affirmed first hand now. It was amazing, how fast rumors were spread…
"Well, I can't say that I'm a very good counselor, but if you want to talk about what's happened…?" Garak offered at length, intently locking his eyes with Julian's.
"I don't need your help!" Julian snapped instantly back, angry about the fact that Garak's questions rather had the quality of an interrogation about them. But he was good at it. Julian had forgotten how good an inquisitor the Cardassian spy could be.
"I'm sorry to break it to you, doctor, but obviously you do." Garak's smile lost all of its humor; and behind the façade of non-chalant hiding play Julian recognized for the first time that there was more to the Cardassian's conversation. He wasn't completely sure – he never was with Garak anyway – but it might have been worry that was now glinting in Garak's intense, blue eyes.
"I'll see to that myself. Thank you." Bashir got up without another word and gathered the tray from the table, his face all at once more pallid than it had been before. He tried to stay calm, tried not to let Garak's words cut any deeper. He didn't need Garak's help. Not any longer.
As the young man turned wordlessly his back on the Cardassian, Garak got up, too, when a sudden, chopped cry filled the air, accompanied by the unnaturally loud rattle of shattered glass. Julian instinctively whirled around and looked up in surprise – as did about everybody present.
The cry came from the direction of Quark's and only moments later another croaky voice cried out. This time in surprise and dismay. Only seconds later Quark came tumbling out of the bar, searching desperately for somebody to help, a look of sheer terror on his swollen face.
"Medical emergency. I need someone in here. Someone call medical personel!"
The little Ferengi shouted at the top of his voice, gesticulating wildly, as he frantically scanned the environment for someone able to get things back under control. Several of the passers-by milling about the promenade, closed in, everybody as stunned and lost at the sight as his or her neighbor. Some seconds later, a Bolian drunkard came stumbling out of the bar, nearly tripping over his own feet as he tried to find a somewhat coherent way through the door to Quark's bar.
"Hold him! He's to pay for the table!"
Some of the Constable's security men were already running towards the din, phasers drawn and prepared for every ostensible emergency that required their immediate attention. Most of the people almost instantly shied away at the sight of a drawn weapon, allowing a passage for the newly arrived security personal, some of which took care of the drunken Bolian while others made their way into the bar.
Julian was still standing next to the table, fingers clutched tightly around the rims of his tray, as he kept staring incredulously at the messy sight that had spread across the promenade only seconds before.
"Sounds like trouble," Garak solemnly commented, not tearing his gaze away from the direction everyone was staring in. Some more people had already stopped to watch intently what was happening down next to and inside of Quark's, eyes large and unsure what to expect or if there was any immediate danger.
"You better hurry, my dear doctor," the Cardassian said slowly as he turned to face Bashir, one brow arched meaningfully.
Flinching, Julian reluctantly turned, already about to bring his tray back to the replicator and decard it there, when a firm grip closed around his wrist, thus preventing him from turning his back at the situation.
"Doctor Bashir," Garak insisted.
Almost reflexively yanking himself free, Julian tried to keep his balance. "Stop calling me that!"
He hastily moved toward the replicator, depositing his untouched dish into the recycler as he kept ignoring what was going on around him. Garak had already followed up, moving in closer on the young man.
"Doctor, you're needed over there. Someone might need you. There might be someone injured. You can't ignore that."
Garak's voice was mild but insitent. He stopped several meters in front of Julian.
"I'm not in charge anyway!" Julian sputtered out defensively. "There's Dr. Selaran. She'll do the job."
Keeping perfectly controlled, Garak focused his whole attention on Julian. "I remember you once told me that being a doctor is not a matter of being in charge or not."
Bashir froze on the very spot he stood on, gazing incredulously at the Cardassian tailor. It took some moments before he actually spoke. When he did, Julian's word seemed to come from far far away.
"I'm not a doctor anymore, Garak. I thought I had made that clear enough." Bashir's voice was slightly trembling, though his outer appearance kept steady.
"I don't think this is the right moment for self-chastising, my dear doctor," Garak chuckled without the slightest hint of amusement. "They're needing you."
Casting a last glance towards the messy crowd, Julian's face contorted into a faint grimace. He kept staring in their direction for several more seconds before he finally whispered under his breath: "But where were they, when I needed them…"
And without another word he whirled around, parting through the crowd of customers at the replimate who had doubtlessly overheard their tiny conversation. He didn't even turn once more but left Garak stand alone next to the replicator as he hurriedly started for the airlock that lead to the Habitat Ring.
As soon as he had arrived at his quarters, Julian Bashir instantly locked the door, made his way toward the couch and its table and almost immediately collapsed onto the soft mattress. Running both hands over his sweaty face, he could hardly grasp what he had just done; what he would have never done before in his life – in his former life. About a deed so reckless, so uncaring and wrong; so utterly deviating from the principles he had always held dear.
He knew it had been wrong. He knew it. Knew it!
Trembling, he futilely tried to regather some coherent thoughts – but all he could think of was the tearing and stabbing feeling of guilt. He shouldn't have run away like this. God, he should have stayed to do what he once had obliged his life to.
He knew he had disappointed people. He had abandoned people. He had deliberately put people into immeasurable danger. Garak had been right – he ought to have helped, no matter his personal feelings. But something had held him back, had struck him with terror, had made it impossible for him to keep dwelling there any second longer.
That person, that Julian Bashir back at the replimat hadn't been him. That person hadn't been him any more! Or had it been himself? Was that what he was now, what there was left of his former self? An uncaring monster? How could he even have thought of running away like this?
His heart was still beating painfully in his chest, the anguish in it almost unbearable. Torn between guilt and despair he curled up into a fetal position, arms clutched tightly around his body, eyes closed against a threatening reality he had already lost himself in.
He didn't know what to think, what to believe. His world had once shattered into hunderets of thousands of pieces – it was impossible to put them back together. No matter how hard he tried, how often anybody told him, that it hadn't been his fault what had happened on Felan III, no matter how hard he tried to defy the current of life that constantly tried to drown him in its floods of despair – Julian would never get his life back.
He hadn't wanted to see it. There had been the tiny hope that Sisko had been right, that he would be able to go on. But he knew things would never be like before.
And Telac had been right. He was a monster, not even worth being allowed to be back home. Even after he had murdered Sisko, after he had murdered the little girl, Jadzia and O'Brien, he would selfishly put so many other lives at stake like he had done the moment the crisis on the promenade had taken complete possession of his actions.
He didn't even want to imagine Jadzia's reaction when she learned of his inappropriate behavior. Or the reaction of Sisko, of O'Brien….
The more he tried to come back to them, the more he got separated. And there was no way out.
It was like there was a invisible noose, tightening ever further around his neck. And after what had just happened, there wasn't much space left to go…
Fortunately – or unfortunately – no one seemed to care too much about Bashir's cold reaction toward the incident. He later learnt from Counselor Telnorri that no one had seriously been injured and that all the trouble had just originated when one drunkard had started to complain too loud about his neighbor who hadn't been very appreciative about the insults either. Inebriate as well, he had started to smash some of Quark's glasses, before both of them had lost themselves in a laborious fighting. Not too extraordinary a case. Dr. Selaran had tended the wound of the Bolian's fighting partner while the drunken Bolian himself had spent the rest of the night in confinement.
However, it was the decisive moment that made Julian cancel any further lunch meetings with Garak. He never wanted to be brought into a similar situation again. And what was more important: He didn't want to see Garak again…
It was another evening of boredom that made Julian restless and somewhat anxious. Pacing up and down his quarters, absorbed in his meandering thoughts, he startled when he heard the sudden chime in his back, instantaneously whirling around, not sure who to expect to such an unusal time.
"It's open," he simply said, involuntarily backing up another two meters away from the door, perplexed over the sudden visitor he had least of all expected to see.
It was Jadzia, offering a broad, genuine smile as she stepped over the threshold. Swiftly scanning his quarters, she nodded. "I thought I would find you here."
Bashir didn't share her smile as he waited for her to voice her business. "Where else should I be?" He knew he sounded too defensive, but he didn't really care. There it was again. This feeling of cool detachedness as soon as he was dealing with one of his former comrades. The same, even repulsive feeling that had also come to the fore during his conversation with Garak…
"In the holosuite? Visiting Quark's? Having lunch with Garak?" the young Trill simply said, her tone more indulging than reproaching. "You haven't been out of your quarters for a while, Julian."
He instinctively flinched at the sound of his own name. "I'm fine here," Bashir defended himself, turning around and walking over to the couch before he slowly let himself drop onto it, flexing absently his fingers.
"Perhaps you are, but still socializing is not as bad an idea as you may think." Jadzia followed the young man, taking a seat in one of the chairs to his left.
"I'm not afraid of meeting other people, if you're alluding to that."
"I didn't say so. But apart from the meetings with Counselor Telnorri you haven't left your quarters for two weeks. We're worried about you. You can't avoid seeing your friends once in a while," Jadzia sighed.
She knew about the incident on the promenade. He could tell from the sad shimmer in her eyes. But why should he have expected otherwise? Of course Garak had told her. He was worried about Julian…
"So you came here to keep me company?" He didn't intent to offend her, he just wanted to be left alone, stifling a yawn as to pretend to be tired.
"No," she shook her head, "I was coming to take you along to Quark's."
Sighing, Julian rubbed his tired eyes. "I'm sorry but I don't think I'm in the right mood for it."
Leaning closer, Jadzia gently took his hand, making the young man cock up his head in surprise. His expression remained blank, though.
"Only for an hour. Please Julian, we're just worried about you. It would be a good start."
She gave him a genuine, reassuring smile, softly squeezing his hand. She knew how much he hated to be in company, how much he wished to be left alone. But she couldn't leave him the way he was. He needed company, no matter how much he opposed to every effort to get him out of his quarters. Julian was still so secretive, so absolutely keyed up. Sisko had convinced him that death was not the right decision – but Julian seemingly hadn't thought life the right decision either.
"I told Quark to reserve a table and it's nearly time for dinner," she offered blandly, "What do you say?"
He cast his look toward the ground, not able to endure her friendly smile any longer. "I'm not hungry," he said absently and half-heartedly, though he knew he had already lost the argument – as always.
"But I am, and I'd be glad if you'd keep me company." She stood up, not letting go of his hand, waiting for Julian to take the cue.
And finally he did, dragging himself up and stepping next to her. "If you say so."
Quark's was not overly crowded that evening. Only a few customers sat at the bar, many of them engineers waiting for the current shift to end and having a nice time before reporting to duty. Nonetheless, the bar was filled with laugher, chatter and the sudden and sporadic jubilation of dabo players. Quark was nowhere to be seen, though Broik was flitting about the place with some sort of tray, delivering drinks and food before returning to the bar for a new run.
For Julian, though, the place was noisily and fussy.
He didn't pay attention to any detail, just followed Jadzia, his eyes steadily fixed on her back as she mounted the stairs to the second level. He just tried to shut everything else out, concentrated on the young Trill as she pointed to one of the tables next to the railing. They had a pretty good view over the level below, its customers and the dabo wheel. Julian didn't even take a look but simply sat down on the opposite side of the table, leaning back and folding his hands in his lap as if not sure what he actually was supposed to do.
He silently watched Dax grab the menu, saw her flicking through the large amount of dishes and drinks as she pointed to something interesting every now and then. And finally she set the menu aside, sighing deeply.
"You're sure you're not hungry? You should try some Kehal," she tried once again," it's Vulcan. A little bit spicy but very delicate."
"Sorry, I just don't feel like eating…" was everything Julian answered.
Shrugging in slight resignation, she waited for the Ferengi waiter and ordered a small portion of Kehal together with some Hiberian salad. When she directed her attention back to Julian, she tried once more to involve the silent young man into conversation.
"So, how's your meeting with Telnorri going?"
Julian didn't even lift his gaze, his voice bored, barely enthusiastic. "You already know that, don't you? Telnorri files a report as soon as our little meetings are finished, so there's no point in telling you, because you've already read."
"But that's only a report, Julian. I want to know how you're feeling. Of course I read the reports but that's only one side of the story, isn't it?" Dax bargained, trying to cheer him up.
Julian just shrugged, then threw a short look over the crowd on the first level.
Again she sighed inwardly. Making Julian talk to her was harder than she had thought. He was so reserved, never let his true feelings show. It was startling her to see him like that. He was so utterly calm and quiet, and he obviously hadn't slept much in the last two weeks. She didn't need to read the reports from Counselor Telnorri to see the tiredness and exhaustion he tried to hide from everyone. But Telnorri had said it was just normal a reaction after all he had gone through. He needed time to heal, time to cope with what he had suffered in Telac's captivity. And they had granted it to him. They had left Julian nearly as much time as he needed – but still, she doubted that they would get anywhere if they went on like this which was also the reason why she had decided to take things into her own hands…
"Lieutenant Dax, Julian!"
Bashir spun around at the familiar voice. His eyes involuntarily widened when he saw O'Brien coming over from the catwalk leading to the upper entrance of the second level. The chief almost instantaneously offered a broad smile when he saw Julian, dragging a chair from another table.
"Do you mind if I have a seat?"
"No, Chief, not in the least," Jadzia smiled back, deliberately ignoring Julian's visibly growing unease.
"I'm quite surprised to see you here, Julian. You're having dinner?" O'Brien's question somehow took Julian by surprise. However, he only shook his head, not meeting O'Brien's eye. "No, actually I don't."
"He's not hungry," Jadzia interjected with a thoughtful look.
O'Brien's frown deepened. "I see…"
"So you're still on duty?" The young Trill tried to change topics, making O'Brien snort humorlessly.
"Some replicators are malfunctioning. Again. I've spent the better part of the day strolling from quarter to quarter and repair the replicators of half the upper level. There's still quite a backlog of work waiting for me, but for now, I just want to have a break."
"Sounds terrible," Dax laughed.
"Well, not as terrible as crawling through small ducts. The upgrade on the Defiant is not yet completed, though I'll try and finish it as soon as the replicator issue is settled."
The young Trill smiled again, then took the food plate from the waiter, placing it in front of her and grabbing for the fork.
"Racktajino, please," O'Brien hurriedly ordered, before Broik was out of earshot, then leaned forward, bracing himself on his folded elbows – and his expression became serious. "What about you, Julian? How are you?"
Again, the young man didn't look up, stalling as he let his gaze glide over the lower level. "Fine."
"Come on, Julian," the chief teased mildly, "you don't expect me to believe that. You're quite a sight. You look as if you haven't slept in days."
Turning to face the chief for the first time, Julian seemed impatient. "I'm fine."
"What about some racktajino? I can order you some if you like?" O'Brien offered in concern.
"I know how to order, Miles, I'm not stupid," Bashir harshly said – maybe too harsh.
Dax could see his effort to keep his temper low, wondering what his sudden anger really meant. Still it wasn't like Julian to lose his temper – not mentioning the Julian who had remained almost deadly calm during the past two weeks. Perhaps he was just stressed by the unfamiliar activity that was filling Quark's…
O'Brien obviously had decided not to take Julian's last comment as an offense, for he was already smiling again.
"What about playing some darts? To distract yourself."
Julian stared again towards the table, his voice unnaturally strained as he spoke. "I don't need to get distracted. I just want to sit here, doing nothing. I don't want to drink anything nor do I want to eat anything. No, thank you."
Dax could see the confusion on O'Brien's face, though she couldn't explain Julian's sudden and repulsive behavior either. Realizing that bringing him to a crowded place like this was very likely overcharging his current abilities of reintegration, she thought it best to walk him back to his quarters as soon as she was finished. Something seemed to be wrong about him – though she couldn't tell what exactly it was. Perhaps it was also just her imagination.
"Chief, Dax!" another familiar voice called over, its owner mounting up the narrow stairs to the second level. Kira was smiling at them, her smile even broadening when she saw their companion. "Julian! Nice to see you."
"I just attended service and thought about stopping at Quark's and having dinner. Do you mind if I keep you company?"
It was obvious that most of the attention was directed at Julian, for none of them had seen him much in the past two weeks. Kira had only seen him twice after his rescue from Felan III but those encounters had been short and not very informing. Of course she had heard from Sisko, Dax and O'Brien but seeing Julian with her own eyes was something else. Kira just hoped the tired look on the young doctor's face was nothing to worry about too much.
"So how are you, Julian?" she mildly asked, very well aware that she had to handle him carefully. She knew that he hadn't made a full recovery yet, she could tell by his behavior, by the way he was carrying himself in their presence. She had seen much of the same attitude back in the camps during the occupation. Kira would never be able to forget those times…
"Fine," was everything the young man retorted. He apparently grew ever more uncomfortable with so many people gathered around.
"But you look tired. Perhaps it would be better to stop by the infirmary, just in case," Kira said, her voice still understanding and sympathetic.
Shaking his head ever so slightly, Julian said: "I'm fine, really."
"She's right, Julian, you really don't look very healthy," O'Brien added. "You need to sleep and recover. And you need to eat. It seems as if you haven't eaten anything in days."
He seemed to get stiff on that. Facing O'Brien once again, he tried again with strained voice. "It's just because I'm not hungry. I don't feel like eating, that's all."
"Have you talked with Counselor Telnorris about your eating disorder?" Frowning slightly, Dax examined him closely.
"It's not a disorder," Bashir held in pressed tones, "It's just that I don't want to eat."
"You shouldn't underestimate the psychological aspect. You've been suffering unnatural much stress for a long period of time," Kira gently interjected, obviously not quite comfortable with having to turn the conversation to this very topic.
"I wouldn't actually call it stress," Julian snorted under his breath.
"You know what I mean," the major tried to calm him, raising both hands in a defensive gesture.
Spinning around, Julian glowered at her. "No, I don't know what you mean."
"Julian, please, we're just worried about you. You seem so distant and reclusive, never talk about what happened," O'Brien almost sadly said, drawing Julian's full attention.
"There's not that much to report anyway," the young man snapped harshly.
"What the chief wants to say is that you're not yourself, Julian," Dax helped, "You don't eat, you hardly sleep, you never leave your quarters. And you're avoiding meeting other people."
Grinding his teeth, Bashir was barely able to hold back his anger. "That's my business. I don't need other people telling me what to do."
"We're not telling you what to do, we're just worried, because you never talk about what happened during those last three months," O'Brien tried mildly, "It's good to have you back, Julian, but still you refuse to let anybody get any closer to you. We're your friends, Julian, we just want to help."
It obviously was the last straw that breaks the camel's back, for all of a sudden, Julian struck the table with both flat hands, glaring at each one of them, his irritation finally gaining the upper hand. "Stop treating me like a child!" he all of a sudden shouted, stunning every one of them with his unexpected and violent outburst. "You want to know what happened?" Standing, Bashir nearly tipped the chair, shaking with barely controllable rage. From one second to the other his face had gone pale, his shoulders now trembling with heated emotions.
"Julian? You're ok?" Dax cautiously tried.
"NO, I'm not ok!" Bashir yelled back, his composure slipping with every second. "I'm damn not ok. How should I? I've been shot upon, captured, tortured, broken, mentally abused, driven to the verge of deathwish! I've been made betray everything I believed in, I've been made kill innocent people, I've been made living though I wished to die! I'm damn not ok!"
He didn't even care if anybody overheard, shouting at them with all his pent-up anger, with all his pent-up rage and hatred he hadn't even known it existed. But it was there, rushing irresistibly to the fore. He all at once shouted at people so blissfully unaware of what had happened, so unaware of what had happened to him. People who never knew what it meant to be lost; people still living in an illusionary, intact world of security, a world he once had been torn out so brutally. And he hated them for it. He hated all of them who had abandoned him to Telac's maniacal plans. It might have been Telac who tortured him, but it had been his friends who had made him the miserable being he was now. He hated them, Dax, O'Brien, Kira, Sisko and everyone who had not come to rescue him. Who had abandoned him to a nightmare he couldn't wake up from.
And he hated himself. He hated himself for having killed an innocent man, for having cracked under Telac's torture. He didn't need anybody to indulge him, to tell him that everything would be alright, he didn't need their advices and he didn't need their worries – least of all their care. He needed someone to shout at him, to berate him for what horrible deeds he had done, to reproach him for having killed Sisko, to hurt him, to tell him that he had been wrong, that he had taken the wrong decision. He needed someone to take him for what he was – a monster, a cold-blooded monster.
And then Dax stood too, reaching out for him. "Julian –"
"NO!" Bashir yelled, too incensed with rage, backing away and hitting the railing with his back. "Don't you dare touch me! I don't want anybody to ever touch me again!"
"Doctor, you're overreacting. You have to calm down," Kira cautiously ordered, dragging herself up, too. She knew that the situation was nearly about to escalate.
"Don't tell me what to do, Major! I don't have to do anything! I don't want to calm down, I don't want you to indulge me!"
He apparently was beyond reason. Dax didn't know what had prompted the sudden outburst, but Julian shook with barely controllable emotions. The last time she had seen him this haggard had been when Telac had ordered him to kill Sisko, though he hadn't been as violent back then. Jadzia could tell from the glint in his eyes that Julian was more than serious.
"Please, please folks, this is no arguing matter!"
Quark hastily came hurrying over to them, holding both hands up, eager to end the quarrel before anybody – or anything – got hurt. Needless to say, his guest preferred an atmosphere of joy and happiness, not that of a battlefield. Gently gripping Bashir's arm from behind he opened his mouth to protest – and forcefully hit the bulkhead, cringing from the blow the doctor had given him.
"Quark!" O'Brien cried out – though it was not clear if in worry or in threat.
"Dax to security. Emergency on the second level of Quark's."
Julian's eyes suddenly widened at the realization of her words, panic suddenly smothering in them. "No..." he incredulously whispered under his breath, his voice almost pleading. "…you can't do that…"
"Julian, it's ok, everything is going to be alright," Kira tried with upraised hands, nearing him ever so slowly.
Julian stumbled backwards, his eyes darting from one to the other, his ashen face contorted into a painful grimace - and from one moment to the other, Bashir spun around and broke into a run, almost crashing against a waiter as he struggled for the exit.
"Wait! Julian!"
Dax immediately set off behind him, though she knew that he wouldn't make it far. He would probably run into security every moment now. She didn't even dare imagine what would happen if Bashir was hindered by anybody against his will. Slithering to a halt on the narrow catwalk of the promenade's second level, she felt her heart stop, when she saw the young man backing frantically away from the guards, throwing his hands up in front of his face as he tried to elude them.
Dax willed herself to move even before she could think, grabbing the emergency med kit from the brackets next to the door.
"Don't you touch me!"
She saw one of the guards seize Bashir's arm, turning it behind his back so quickly, the young man didn't even have time to react; making it thus almost impossible for him to get his arm free again.
"Don't touch me!" Julian yelled, the once hot anger now completely turned into despair and horror. His voice almost cracked. "Don't touch me!"
Wriggling and fighting against the firm grip of security, he didn't stop screaming, flailing out with his legs, convulsing and trying to free himself. It was a horrific sight. Many of the passers-by had stopped in confusion to look at the sudden furore, gathering in small groups, not sure if the spectacle meant any immediate threat.
Dax didn't bother them, just focused on Bashir as he nearly seemed about to lose his mind.
"Let him go! Let him go!" she shouted desperately as she ran towards the bunch of men. Julian would get into post-traumatic shock if they didn't let go of him.
With a concerned look towards the running Trill, one of the security guards hesitated, then saw Jadzias contorted face and subsequently let go of Bashir, who now stumbled to keep his balance.
"Let me.. let me go," Julian breathlessly gasped, his mind captured by indescribable horror.
She arrived next to him only seconds later, pulling him back on his shoulder and pressing something cool against his neck.
Bashir instinctively grabbed for her hand, his eyes wide with fear – and a second later, he sagged unconscious into her arms. Easing his slack body onto the ground, she didn't even realize O'Brien, Kira – and a profoundly confused Quark – running towards them, before she hastily tapped her combadge.
"Dax to Infirmary. We've got a medical emergency."