He had no idea how long he'd been unconscious, but when he woke he found he was still in that room, though now it was empty, save for himself. It took his body a few moments to register that it was, in fact, still very much in pain. He didn't particularly want to try moving his arms, but he had to be sure that somebody hadn't been benevolent and popped his arms back into place.
As he had suspected, no one had, and the attempted movement was excruciating. His legs shaky, he attempted to push himself back into the chair properly, as he'd slid down pretty far when he'd passed out. Each movement felt like he was being stabbed.
Despite wanting to, he managed to not cry out as he sat back up. He leaned back against the chair as much as he could, not wanting to cause his arms any undue stress. He looked around, now that he was alone he could afford to. The room appeared to be relatively small, with one door off to his right.
As if responding to his gaze, the door opened. Julian fell limp as quickly as he could, not wanting a repeat of what had just happened to him.
To his surprise, his arms were cut loose and somebody was carrying him very delicately out of the room. When he took a chance and stole a quick look, he found to his dismay that it was a Jem'Hadar, probably acting on orders from that changeling. For an evil overlord, she didn't seem to care for violence too much.
His thoughts were brought back to the present when he was suddenly and rather violently dropped on the floor of a holding cell. Strong hands grasped his left arm and shoulder.
"No- n- no please don't-" Bashir begged, but was cut off by the sudden, fresh pain of his limb being snapped back into place. Before he could open his mouth to protest, his right arm was also popped back into place.
A security field activated around him as soon as the Jem'Hadar had gone, and he was alone again, but at least he was no longer bound to a chair. He gingerly tested his arms and was relieved to conclude that there were no broken bones, though the same couldn't be said for his ribs. He was certain that if he didn't get access to proper medical care for them soon, he would likely wind up with a punctured lung.
He sat on the floor, trying hard not to move as moving was the main cause of all pain he felt from his wounds. The cell was tiny, barely enough space for him to stretch his legs out with his back against the wall.
He didn't know how long he'd been sitting there when the door opened and the security field dropped, but he'd begun to doze off again.