A/N: énouement. n. the bittersweetness of having arrived in the future, seeing how things turn out, but not being able to tell your past self.
Every part of him hurt.
It had taken a long conversation with Kajada, Jadzia and Odo to make sense of what had actually happened.
Of all the parts of his body, his head seemed to be throbbing the most. It had been plaguing him every second for the first sixteen hours since he'd been revived in sickbay. He could've sworn each individual lobe of his brain was aching.
It was as though he was still there, slamming up against the walls of his cranium, demanding to escape.
There were other signs of Vantika's presence that he found hard to ignore.
His vocal cords felt stiff and his voice was raw, as if Vantika had struggled to use them correctly.
His upper back and shoulders were so tight that he wondered if Vantika had previously used some sort of implant to keep his spine perpetually straight.
He would never admit it aloud, but he felt violated.
Odo's explanation of how they'd transported him from the shuttle had long since become lost in the background. He gazed dimly at his hands, which were currently clasped tightly around a mug of Tarkaelian tea. The warmth of the beverage did little to extinguish the guilt and embarrassment that was festering inside him.
Jadzia had told him how they'd seen Vantika use his body to murder Durg, and how carelessly he'd disposed of the henchman. He wasn't sure he'd completely hidden his expression of disgust at that admission. Part of him wished he could physically see the blood on his hands; at least then he'd know exactly what Vantika had used them for.
He could have done anything with my body.
He could have stolen valuable Starfleet information with his access codes.
He could have used a shuttle and taken me to God knows where.
He could've revealed my secret.
Part of him was surprised that Vantika hadn't realised he wasn't an average human, but he quickly remembered that Vantika likely hadn't had much interaction with any humans, let alone an Augment.
Despite the repeated reassurances from Kajada and his fellow crewmembers that there was no way he was responsible for anything that had transpired, Julian still felt he was to blame. He should've fought harder against Vantika, and forced him out of his mind somehow.
Even though Jadzia and Kajada had given him a very thorough physiological and technical explanation on why that would've been impossible for him to accomplish, it did little to brighten his mindset, and he'd quickly excused himself to the safety of his quarters, muttering an excuse about his headache.
He allowed himself the luxury of a real shower, basking in the relief that the hot water brought to his tortured body. He felt his headache subside and his taut muscles relax. It also allowed him to remove two days' worth of body odour and dead skin cells, yet another reminder of who had been piloting this collection of epithelial cells.
A loud growl while drying his hair was another sign that Vantka had neglected to provide food for his passenger, and he quickly scoffed down a hearty soup after donning his pyjamas.
Although he was desperate for a hypospray to rid him of the last of his lingering headache, he decided that he'd had enough of objects (or hands) near his neck for the time being, and opted for a simple paracetamol tablet and some rest.
He had just found a comfortable position when the horrifying realisation dawned on him.
No prison could ever contain Vantika.
Not even death itself.
For in death, Vantika would now be completely free.
Julian shivered. There was no point in wishing he had listened to Kajada's warnings now.
Sighing into the soft fabric of his pillow, he decided he would message Commander Sisko and accept his offer of a few days' leave.
Perhaps then I can stop thinking for a while…