~ Hidden Memories ~
by Mijra
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Notes from the author:
This is a revised version of the original story I posted in 2004! For additional notes, see the last chapter:)
The story takes place during season four.
Trigger warning: The story deals with some darker topics, including torture and suicidal actions. It's not explicit, but for some it can be disturbing nonetheless. Please don't read this unless you feel emotionally up to it.
Disclaimer: Neither Star Trek nor DS9 or any of the characters belong to me. They're all Paramount's – unfortunately ^^
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- Prolog –
"It is time..."
Captain Benjamin Sisko woke with a start. Faint light was slanting in through the viewport of his bedroom, bathing the room in a cool and gloomy twilight. Tiny, white stars were streaking by outside the viewport, slowly enough that you wouldn't notice if you didn't pay closer attention. But still way too fast for someone who had grown up under the vast sky of New Orleans. It was strange, but even after all these years in space, he still hadn't gotten used to the deliberate, artificial distinction between day and night here in space...
Blinking several times against the darkness around him, he cast an uncertain look at the chronometer.
0300 hours. Still in the middle of the night.
He ran a sweaty hand over his sleepy eyes and sighed. Had it been a dream? He could have sworn that he'd heard voices...
He propped himself on his elbows, listening once more attentively to the silence of his quarters. And if he concentrated hard enough, he could swear he could still hear them. It sounded like faint whispers that came drifting through the closed door of his bedroom. They were too far away to make out their words. But if his mind wasn't playing tricks on him, they came from the living room.
He frowned.
Reluctantly, he shoved the bed cover aside and stood, trying to overcome his sleepiness. The closer he got to the living room, the more distinct the voices became.
No sooner had he crossed the threshold to the living room than he suddenly found himself in the brightly-lit infirmary. He instantly brought up one arm to cover his eyes against the unexpected brightness, his pulse quickening.
"It is time."
He spun around, startled by the sudden nearness of the voice. When his eyes had somewhat adjusted to the unnatural brightness enveloping him like a glowing, pulsing cocoon of light, he saw Dax watching him with deep, expressionless eyes. When their gazes met, though, he instantly knew that it wasn't really his old friend staring back at him. He knew all this. He had been here before.
"Time? For what?" he asked, his heartbeat slowly coming back to normal, now that he knew that he was in no immediate danger.
"Linear existence. A point that has to be passed for other linear points to occur. The point is just about to arrive..." Kira's voice. The Bajoran major was watching him with the same timeless and unfathomable eyes as Dax.
"What point? What's going to happen?" he asked with a rising sense of alarm.
A flash of light – and he was standing in OPS.
"Danger has arisen."
He hastily turned toward the disembodied voice – just to look into the swollen face of the Ferengi bartender.
"What danger?" he demanded again, shaking his head in confusion. "Danger to Deep Space Nine?" His brow furrowed. "Is it the Dominion?"
Dax' face didn't betray the slightest hint of emotion when she finally said: "He who has lost his place among you is aware of the danger. You have to find him. The existence of our kind is in danger."
About to speak up, he didn't have the chance to question them further when his vision was all at once drowned in another dazzling flash of light. With a groan, he squeezed his eyes shut, but the vision had vanished as quickly and unceremoniously as it had come. It took a moment for his vision to return, but when it did, he found himself standing yet again, motionless and with a pounding heart, in the middle of his dark quarters.
"You alright Dad? I heard your voice..."
He had to blink several times until the lanky, shadowy figure standing in the door frame opposite him became discernible in the still dim-lit room. Running a hand over his head, he pressed his lips into a thin, contemplative line.
"It's okay, Jake. I couldn't sleep, that's all," he finally sighed, watching his son nod skeptically before he stifled a yawn and left his father alone in the elsewise deserted living room. Still unsure what to make of their sudden visit, it took Sisko a moment to understand what they were trying to tell him.
Danger.
It was their way of asking for his help. The Prophets had given him all he needed to know – and probably all he'd ever get from them – and now it was up to him to take action...