N'ivryn looked up as two familiar figures approached her holding cell. She sat on a plain, flat bench, hands folded in her lap.

"Doctor," Odo said, turning to Julian. "I'll disable the force field so you can get your readings, but don't let your guard down."

"I understand, Constable."

Odo moved towards the control panel and keyed in the sequence to lower the force field. It flickered and vanished, leaving N'ivryn exposed and unprotected. Julian stepped over the threshold, his medical tricorder in hand.

"Did they send you here to make me talk?" N'ivryn asked, the bitterness palpable in her voice.

"No, I'm here to check your vitals. Ensure you're in good health."

N'ivryn laughed. "I'm sure it has nothing to do with figuring out what species I am beneath this Andorian skin?"

Julian paused for a moment, his eyes meeting hers. There was no denial in his gaze, only an unspoken acknowledgment. "Yes, that's part of it as well," he admitted. His tone was calm and matter-of-fact, not defensive.

She sighed, knowing there was no point trying to evade the inevitable anymore. She'd trusted Garak, for all the good it did her, and now she was here. Though in fairness, she wondered if she was always going to end up here. "Would you like to take any guesses before your tricorder gives you the answer, Doctor?"

"Your disguise is remarkably convincing."

"Is that a compliment?" N'ivryn asked. Her tone inched towards playful just a moment before veering sharply back towards bitterness.

"In a manner of speaking," Julian replied, his voice gentle. "But it's also a testament to your resourcefulness. I've seen the device you used."

N'ivryn's eyes flickered for a moment, a flash of vulnerability crossing her face before she masked it with a neutral expression. "It served its purpose."

Julian continued his scan, his tricorder whirring softly as it gathered data. "So it seems. The question we're all trying to understand is why."

N'ivryn remained silent, her face impassive. The weight of her actions hung in the room, a tangible presence that neither of them could ignore. The tricorder beeped, and Julian glanced at the display.

"You're one of the Alar," he said with a soft sigh, "just like Kallim.

She didn't confirm his words–she didn't have to. Instead, she stood and paced a few steps. She steered clear of the threshold where the containment field used to be. "Everyone keeps looking at me now like I'm some sort of monster. Some heartless criminal."

Julian's hand paused for a moment, the tricorder's scanning momentarily forgotten as he absorbed her words. "Surely you can understand," he said, his voice filled with empathy, "that from our perspective, kidnapping a child is an inexcusable crime. But I've seen the way your care for him is genuine. You must have felt quite desperate to do something so drastic."

"I had no choice," N'iv insisted, her voice breaking slightly. "Our children were dying, and no one was willing to do a damn thing about it. I guess it's easier pretending the horrific atrocities we watch play out are all just part of Alaris's divine will–beyond understanding, but always above reproach–than to acknowledge they just might be the consequences of our own fear and prejudice."

Her statement opened several lines of questioning in Julian's mind, but he settled on one. "What is he to you? A sibling? A cousin? A son?"

N'ivryn shook her head, swallowing the mass of hot tears pressing at her throat. "Not everything I told you was a lie. He was my patient. I'm…sure compared to what you're used to you wouldn't consider what we do 'medicine', but while our methods are different, the intent is the same."

"Is what affected Kallim a common issue among the Alar children?"

Her eyes flickered with a dark shadow, and she nodded slowly. "It affects roughly five percent of each generation. In every case it is fatal."

"Always fatal?" he repeated.

"Always," N'ivryn confirmed. "It's a slow, agonizing death. The afflicted children suffer immensely, their bodies breaking down bit by bit. And there's nothing we can do to stop it. Nothing."

Her eyes filled with tears as she spoke, though she refused to let any of them escape. Julian couldn't help seeing the torment in her face. The helplessness, the guilt, the unbearable weight of watching a child die and being unable to prevent it. It was a pain he understood all too well professionally, but to know it as a personal experience was something else entirely.

"The symptoms start subtly," N'ivryn continued. "A weakness in the limbs, difficulty breathing. But in time, it progresses. The child's body begins to fail. The skin grows pale, the eyes lose their sight, and all the while, the child is aware of what's happening, knowing that death is inevitable."

Julian's heart ached at her description, and he found himself at a loss for words. He had seen death and suffering in his career, had watched patients slip away despite his best efforts. But the thought of a child facing such a fate, of a society burdened with the knowledge that a portion of their youth was doomed to such a horrifying end…he didn't like dwelling on it.

"That's why I had to save Kallim," N'ivryn said, her voice filled with a desperate intensity. "I couldn't watch it happen again. I couldn't let him die like that, not when I knew there was a chance to save him."

"I understand," Julian whispered. "I truly do."

"And now, for all my good deeds, I reap the punishment." The spite burned like acid on her tongue.

Julian's mouth pinched into a grim line. "There are always consequences."

"I know," she snapped. "I have already paid some of them, and I will face whatever else comes. But tell me, Doctor, was I wrong? Was there any other way that would've worked? Any other course I could've taken that didn't result in Kallim's death?"

Julian's silence spoke volumes. The answer was neither simple nor clear, and he knew that any judgment he passed would be inadequate. "I can't tell you if you were wrong. All I can tell you is that Kallim is alive and recovering. You succeeded in that much. But the path you chose has brought us all here, and now we must navigate it together."

"Would you have done something different if you were in my position?" She wasn't going to let him off the hook. If he was going to judge her for what she did, he'd have to own it.

"I can't say that I would," Julian admitted. "You were trying to save a life. I can't fault you for that."

"And yet still you disapprove."

"Kidnapping is still kidnapping."

"What else was I supposed to do?" Exasperation and fatigue weighed down her voice. "I tried to solve it on my own–oh if you only knew how many nights I stayed up for hours on end studying every word I could find in that ship trying to solve it–but I simply didn't have the knowledge or the resources. But I knew there had to be someone out here who would. Like you. What else could I do?"

Julian stared at the floor. He didn't have an answer for her. He wasn't sure there was one in this situation. But there was something else bothering him, another layer to the situation. "Why all the lies?"

N'ivryn took a seat on the rigid bench and slumped against the wall, her defiance giving way to weariness. "It's not like I knew what I was walking into.I was taking a huge risk stopping at the station. I didn't know if the Federation would be willing to help–hell, I didn't even know the Federation existed."

"And once you saw we were willing to help? Why continue to pile on lie after lie?"

She shook her head. "My intention was never to betray my people or my planet. I may disagree with them on a lot of things, but that doesn't mean I don't still try to respect our way of life."

"While your aim to save Kallim's life may have been noble, the means by which you achieved it have created complications, not only for you but for everyone involved." As he looked at her, he couldn't help thinking she was as much a victim of her own choices as she was their architect. "The path forward won't be simple, but I promise the Federation will do everything it can to ensure the best outcome for Kallim, for you, and for your people. But from here on out, no more secrets. Can we agree on that?"

She rubbed tired fingers over her brows, then nodded. "So what happens now?"

"I'm not sure," he answered truthfully. "Sisko and the others have at least made contact with your people, but if they're as hostile to outsiders as you say it could take them some time to come to an agreement."

"They'll want Kallim returned," she said with a defeated air.

"I'm not sure we have any grounds to deny them. I've already made the case for keeping him under medical supervision until we've verified he's in full health, but beyond that there's not much we can do."

"I suppose as long as he's healthy it doesn't much matter where he is."

Julian frowned. "I'm curious what exactly you thought would happen. Run away, find a cure, and then what? Sneak back to your planet like nothing happened?"

N'ivryn turned away sharply so he wouldn't see the grimace that forced its way to the surface. The sad truth was that she didn't know. She'd never formulated a plan for what she'd do if she succeeded. It had seemed so far-fetched to begin with that if she was honest with herself she never expected to get this far.