- Chapter 08 -

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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, telling the counselor things he wanted to hear, avoiding his real feelings as far as possible…

Inside, he felt sorry for giving the older Bajoran counselor such difficult times. Julian knew he had never made an easy patient before. But no matter how much he knew that counseling was exactly what he would have prescribed himself if it had been one 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 to be left alone. Being left alone so he could banish what had happened out of his mind, gaining a brief break from reality before everything came rushing back to him again in a moment of inattentiveness.

When he came back from their meetings, it was usually time for lunch, though Julian never felt hungry. Sometimes he ate, sometimes he just sat on the couch musing on whether 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, their displays black and lifeless. He hadn't touched them again since that morning.

Once in a while somebody would come to see him, though he couldn't say he was happy 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 just that easy…

He talked to them – never about what had happened, though – but all he wanted 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 lay awake, not able to leave reality behind, not able to surrender himself to the oblivion of sleep. He hadn't told Telnorri, though the older Bajoran must have noticed his tired expression; how Julian often leaned back during their conversations and ran two fingers over the bridge of his nose, trying not to rub his eyes and let the counselor know that he had barely slept the night before.

Yes, his life had returned 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 of sleep 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 mercilessly in his chest; It was always in those dark, dreadful moments that Julian – disoriented and lost at first – was already expecting to see Telac standing in the door of his bedroom. Watching him and grinning his perfect, sadistic smile. No matter how much he knew that he no longer was in Telac's captivity – who could guarantee him that this was not yet another one 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.

He still tried to avoid Sisko whenever possible. Speaking about what had happened between them had helped a lot. He could still recall his captain's words, telling him that it hadn't been his fault, that no matter how much he held himself accountable for what happened, Julian was not to blame 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 facing 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. Everybody was busy. With their work. With the Dominion. With keeping the station running. It wasn't that hard to go unnoticed, and Julian was glad for it. Still torn between helplessness and indifference, Julian 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 to 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 or pretending to be at a session with Counselor Telnorri, had become a constant companion. But after what had happened in the cellar – after he had thought Miles had been killed – Julian just didn't feel up to facing his former friend any longer. And neither did he feel up to meeting John.

He knew it was wrong. He knew that Dax and O'Brien, Kira, John and all the others just wanted to help. But Julian wasn't sure he wanted their help. Not any longer; for nothing could guarantee him, that his trust wouldn't be broken again. He was on his own…

So he kept living. And tried to reintegrate into his old life.

"My dear doctor, you've barely touched your food. What's wrong with the pasta today? Some sort of replicator malfunction? I thought you liked Italian food – should we have Chief O'Brien take a look at the replicators?"

Garak was watching his friend with an expression hovering between worry and amusement, as he pointed casually toward the young man's still fully loaded plate. Julian had chosen some noodles at random, not very keen on eating anyway. Letting his gaze wander over promenade, 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. He kept stabbing at noodles at random, shoving them from one side of the plate to the other – only that there wasn't much space to move them around since there wasn't much missing of the original amount of food.

"Well, then most probably it is something about our present location."

Julian lifted his gaze to cast Garak a quizzical look, but the tailor simply flashed another one of his hard-to-interpret smiles. He focused his attention back on his Cardassian Soub, took a forkful of the brown, thick mass but hesitated then, as if he was anticipating his friend's following question.

"What do you mean?" Julian froze, fork still in hand.

"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 lunch. I thought after the time in confinement you would savor the taste of real, Terran food."

Bashir seemed to stiffen at that, turning to watch some Bajoran civilians leave the airlock next to them. It was still late morning – they had lunch at a quite different time than they usually used to – but even though there had only been a few customers around the replimat when they 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 quieter surroundings 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 toward the Cardassian tailor, trying to bring his attention back to the conversation. "I had real food, Garak," he retorted warily.

"Oh, really?" Garak once again flashed his enigmatic smile, making Julian feel more and more closed in. But it was only a few minutes more until Garak would finally finish the last remains of the Soub. Julian could hold out until then.

"They had… different ways," the young doctor simply said, not keen on letting Garak intrude into private matteres 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 arms defensively in front of his chest, trying not to respond to Garak's 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 your favor. If you don't believe in luck, perhaps you do believe in fate?" Garak put away his fork and retrieved the napkin from his lap.

"Fate didn't have anything to do with it," Julian said impatiently. 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 makes a wonderful doctor. A bit too honest and naive, but she does a wonderful job." Garak suddenly changed topics, gesturing vaguely toward the infirmary.

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 replied curtly, about to drag 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 never would again…

"Tell me, doctor, you used to be a more talkative person, didn't you?"

Julian cocked his head and stared at the Cardassian in disbelief. Garak's self-righteous smile was like a slap across the face. Trying to reign in his temper, Julian's grip around the rim of the tray tightened as he struggled not to let his composure slip. Arguing with the Cardassian about it just wasn't worth the trouble; but still Garak's words hurt more deeply than the tailor probably realized.

Placing the tray back on the table, Julian propped himself up on it. "Look, Garak, I'm just having lunch here with you because Telnorri asked me to. 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 tip of his tongue, Julian barely able to hold them back. But somehow he managed to swallow them. Instead, he took a deep breath. 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 it to be that easy?

"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 innocence."

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 taking another 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 merchants, the temple, and –

"I won't," Bashir said simply, completely ignoring the curious and even dismayed looks from some of the other visitors at the replimat. Most likely, they must have overheard, now slightly unsure about the news that had presumably already spread through the whole space station and which they had now witnessed being affirmed firsthand. It was amazing how fast rumors 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, locking his eyes with Julian's.

"I don't need your help!" Julian snapped back instantly, angry about the fact that Garak's questions rather had the quality of an interrogation. But he was good at it. Julian had almost forgotten how good an interrogator 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 Julian recognized in that instant that there was more to the Cardassian's casual 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'm perfectly fine. Thank you." Bashir got up without another word and gathered the tray from the table. 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 his back on the Cardassian without another word, Garak stood up, too. They didn't get far, though, when a sudden, sharp cry filled the air, accompanied by the sound of shattering glass.

Julian instinctively whirled around and looked up in surprise – as did everybody else.

The cry came from the direction of Quark's bar, and another moment later, another croaky voice cried out, this time in surprise and dismay. A few seconds later, Quark came tumbling out of the bar, desperately searching for someone to help, a look of sheer terror on his swollen face.

"Medical emergency. I need someone in here. Someone call medical personnel!"

The little Ferengi shouted at the top of his lungs, gesticulating wildly as he frantically scanned the area for someone able to get things back under control. Several passers-by milling about the promenade moved closer, everyone as stunned and lost as their neighbors. Moments later, a Bolian drunkard came stumbling out of the bar, nearly tripping over his own feet as he tried to find his staggering way through the crowd.

"Hold him! He's to pay for the table!"

Some of the Constable's security men were already running toward the commotion, phasers drawn and prepared for a possible emergency that required their immediate attention. Most people almost instantly shied away at the sight of a drawn weapon, making way for the security personnel, some of which took care of the drunken Bolian while others headed into the bar.

Julian was still standing next to the table, fingers tightly clutched around the rims of his tray, staring numbly at the chaotic scene spreading across the promenade.

"Sounds like trouble," Garak solemnly commented, not tearing his gaze away from the direction everyone was staring in. More people had already stopped to see what was happening at Quark's, their eyes wide and unsure if there was any immediate danger.

"You better hurry, my dear doctor," the Cardassian said slowly as he turned to Bashir, one brow arched meaningfully.

Flinching, Julian suddenly turned, already about to bring his tray back to the replicator to dispose of it, when a firm grip closed around his wrist, preventing him from turning his back on the scene.

"Doctor Bashir," Garak insisted.

Almost reflexively, Julian yanked his arm free, nearly dropping his plate. "Stop calling me that!"

He hastily moved toward the replicator, disposing of his untouched food, stubbornly ignoring what was happening around him. Garak was already behind him.

"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 insistent. 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 telling me being a doctor is not a matter of being in charge or not."

Bashir froze on the spot, staring incredulously at the Cardassian tailor. It took some moments before he actually spoke. When he did, Julian's word seemed to come from far away.

"I'm not a doctor anymore, Garak. I thought I had made that clear enough." Bashir's voice was slightly trembling, though he somehow managed to keep his composure.

"I don't think this is the right moment for self-reproach, my dear doctor," Garak chuckled without the slightest hint of amusement. "The need you."

Casting a last glance toward 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, plowing through the crowd of customers at the replimat who had doubtlessly overheard their little conversation. He didn't look back at Garak but headed straight for the airlock that led to the Habitat Ring.

As soon as he was back in the safety of his quarters, Julian Bashir instantly locked the door, made his way toward the couch and almost immediately collapsed onto it. He ran his hands over his face, his palms damp with sweat, unable to believe what he had just done; something he would never have done before in his life – his former life. An action so uncaring, so unemotional... so wrong. So utterly against everything he'd once believed in.

He knew it had been wrong. He knew it. Knew it!

Trembling, he tried in vain to gather his tumbling thoughts – but all he could feel was the stabbing feeling of guilt. He shouldn't have run away like this. God, he should have stayed to do what he once had dedicated his life to.

He knew he had disappointed people. He had abandoned people. He had deliberately put people in danger. Garak had been right – he should 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 stay there any second longer.

That person, that Julian Bashir back at the replimat, that wasn't him. That person wasn't him any more! Or was it? Was that what was left of his former self? An uncaring monster? How could he even have thought of running away like this?

His heart was still pounding painfully in his chest, the anguish that was filling him almost unbearable. Torn between guilt and despair, he curled into a fetal position, arms clutched tightly around his body.

He didn't know what to think, what to believe. His world had shattered into hundreds of thousands of pieces – it was impossible to put them back together. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how often anyone told him that what had happened on Felan III wasn't his fault, no matter how hard he fought against the floods of despair that threatened to drown him every time he let his guard down—Julian would never get his old 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 worthy of getting his old life back. 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 risk. The situation on the Promenade had been proof of that.

He didn't want to imagine Jadzia's reaction when she learned of his inappropriate behavior. Or the reactions 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 an 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 – none of them ever talked to him about the incident, though he knew that most likely everyone knew about it by now. He later learned from Counselor Telnorri that no one had been seriously injured and that all the trouble had originated when a drunkard had started a brawl in Quark's bar.

Dr. Selaran, the Bajoran doctor who had taken over Julian's responsibilities, had tended to the wound of the drunken Bolian, who then 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…

Pacing yet again restlessly his quarters, he startled when he heard the sudden chime of the door. He froze, not sure whom to expect at such an unusual time. But then he reluctantly said: "Come."

He unconsciously took a step back from the door. His eyes widened when he saw who was standing there.

"Jadzia..." he stated flatly, not very thrilled about seeing the young trill.

"I thought, I would find you here," she said with an affectionate smile as she entered.

Bashir didn't share her smile as he waited for her to voice her business. "Where else am I supposed to be?"

He knew he sounded too defensive, but he didn't really care. There it was again. This feeling of cool detachment as soon as he was dealing with one of his former comrades. The same, even repulsive feeling that had also surfaced during his conversation with Garak…

"In a holosuite? Visiting Quark's? Meeting with Garak?" the young Trill offered, her tone more indulgent than reproaching. "You haven't been out of your quarters for a while, Julian."

He flinched at the sound of his own name. "I'm fine here," Bashir defended himself, turning around and walking over to the couch before slowly letting himself drop down.

"Perhaps you are, but it doesn't hurt to go out once in a while." Jadzia followed the young man, taking a seat in one of the chairs to his left.

"I'm not afraid of meeting other people," he scowled.

"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. It would do you good to see 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. Or Counselor Telnorri. In the end, it didn't really matter.

"So you came here to keep me company?" He didn't want to sound abrasive; he just wanted to be left alone. He stifled a yawn, pretending to be tired.

"No," she shook her head, "I came 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."

Jadzia suddenly took his hand, making him look up 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 being 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 struggled to convince them that he needed to be alone. Julian was still so quiet, so utterly keyed up. Sisko might have convinced him that death was not the answer – but Julian obviously didn't think that life was the answer either.

"I told Quark to reserve a table, and it's nearly time for dinner," she offered. "What do you say?"

He cast his eyes toward the ground, unable 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 having a drink after their shift. Nonetheless, the bar was filled with laughter, chatter and the sudden, sporadic shouts of happy dabo winners. Quark was nowhere in sight, though Broik was flitting about the place with a tray in his hands, delivering drinks and food before returning to the bar for a new run.

Everyone seemed to be having a good time. For Julian, though, the place was noisy and fussy.

He kept his eyes trained on Jadzia's back as he followed her up the stairs to the second floor. He tried to shut out the noise and the voices of other customers and sat down at the table Jadzia led him to. They had a pretty good view over the floor below, its customers and the dabo wheel. Julian didn't even look. He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands in his lap as if not quite sure what he was supposed to do.

He silently watched Dax take up the menu, saw her flick through the large number of dishes and drinks, pointing to something interesting every now and then. And finally she set the menu aside, regarding him with a sad smile.

"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."

"I'm sorry, I just don't feel like eating…" was all Julian answered. In fact, he felt his stomach turn queasy. His eyes strayed down to his hands.

Luckily, Jadzia didn't comment. She waited for the Ferengi waiter and ordered a small portion of Kehal along with some Hiberian salad. When she directed her attention back to Julian, she tried once more to engage the silent young man in conversation.

"So, how are your meetings with Telnorri going?"

Julian didn't even lift his gaze, his voice bored, barely enthusiastic. "You already know, 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 his reports."

"But that's only a report, Julian. I want to know how you are 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 cast a short glance 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 withdrawn, never letting his true feelings show. It was startling 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 given him as much time as he needed. They had done as Counselor Telnorri had suggested - they had given him time to adjust to being back in his old life, they hadn't pushed him – but she doubted that they were getting anywhere with it. Julian hadn't made any progress. If anything, he was slipping away from them. Every day that went by, he was a little farther gone. She couldn't bear doing nothing. So she had decided to take things into her own hands…

"Lieutenant Dax, Julian!"

Julian obviously startled at the familiar voice. His eyes widened when he saw O'Brien making his way through the crowd on the second level. The chief offered a broad smile when he saw Julian, and pulled up 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 discomfort. Julian's mouth opened, as if to say something, but then the young man obviously thought better of it and kept quiet.

"I'm surprised to see you here, Julian. You're having dinner?" O'Brien cocked one brow. It was obvious that Julian wasn't keen on talking. But then he shook his head, not meeting O'Brien's eye. "No, actually I don't."

"He's not hungry," Jadzia offered with a thoughtful look.

O'Brien frowned. "I see…"

"So you're still on duty?" The young Trill tried to change topics and ease the sudden tension. She only managed to elicit a snort from the chief.

"Some replicators are malfunctioning. Again. I've spent the better part of the day strolling from quarter to quarter and repairing the replicators on half the upper level. There's still quite a backlog of work waiting for me, but for now, I just need a break."

"Sounds terrible," Dax laughed.

"Well, not as terrible as crawling through Jefferys tubes for hours. 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 taking the fork.

"I'll have some Racktajino, please," O'Brien quickly held the Ferengi back before Broik was out of earshot. Then he leaned forward, bracing himself on his 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 gently, "you don't expect me to believe that. You're quite a sight. You look as if you haven't slept in days."

For the first time, Julian lifted his gaze to meet O'Brien's. His tone carried a hint of impatience when he said: "I'm fine."

"What about some Racktajino? I can order you some if you like?" O'Brien offered with concern.

"I know how to order, Miles, I'm not stupid," Bashir suddenly snapped. If he had been quiet and stoic until moments before, there was now a hint of anger glinting in his eyes.

Dax could see his effort to keep his temper in check, wondering what had caused the sudden flare of anger. Still, it wasn't like Julian to get emotional - not the Julian who had remained almost deadly calm during the past two weeks. Perhaps he was just stressed by the unfamiliar bustle 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 a game of darts? To get some distraction?."

Julian stared again down at 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 repulsive behavior either. Perhaps bringing him to a crowded place like this was too overwhelming for him. Perhaps she should walk him back to his quarters as soon as her dinner was finished. Something seemed to be wrong with him – though she couldn't tell what exactly it was. Perhaps she was just imagining things.

"Chief, Dax!" Another familiar voice. When she turned, Kira was just walking up the steps to the second level. She was smiling broadly when she saw who was having dinner with them.

"Julian! I haven't seen you in days! It's so good to see you." And as if to answer their unspoken question, she added: "I just attended service and thought about stopping by at Quark's and having dinner. Do you mind if I keep you company?"

It was obvious that Julian had become the main center of attraction. None of them had seen him much during the past two weeks. So everybody was eager for some news.

"So, how are you, Julian?" Kira gently asked, obviously 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 all the young man gave back. He seemed uncomfortable, avoiding eye contact as much as possible.

"But you look tired. Did you have a checkup in the infirmary?" She only meant his best, but Julian's face darkened.

"I'm fine, really."

"She's right, Julian," now also O'Brien began. "You're a terrible sight. You need to eat. It seems as if you haven't eaten anything in days."

Julian stiffen at O'Brien's words.

"It's just because I'm not hungry. I don't feel like eating, that's all," he said quietly.

"Have you talked with Counselor Telnorri about your eating disorder?" Dax leaned closer, watching him closely.

"It's not a disorder," Bashir retorted with a scowl, "It's just that I don't want to eat."

"We're just worried, Julian. It had been three months after all. No one would expect you to go on as if nothing had ever happened. You suffered quite a lot of stress during that time..." Kira said as if to apologize. She didn't seem happy about the direction their conversation was obviously heading.

"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.

Julian shot her a dark look. There was suddenly so much anger in his eyes. "No, I don't know what you mean."

"Julian, please. You seem so distant and withdrawn, you never talk about what happened," O'Brien's voice was full of sadness – and concern. He was drawing Julian's full attention.

"There's not much to report anyway," the young man snapped.

"What the chief wants to say is that you're not yourself, Julian," Dax tried to help, "You don't eat, you hardly sleep, you never leave your quarters. And you're avoiding meeting other people."

Grinding his teeth, it took Bashir great effort to reign in his temper. "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 to make him understand, "It's good to have you back, Julian, but still you refuse to let anybody get any closer to you. We're your friends, we just want to help."

It was the last straw that broke 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 suddenly shouted, stunning every one of them with his unexpected and vehement outburst. "You want to know what happened?" Standing, Bashir nearly knocked over his chair, shaking with barely controlled rage. From one second to the next, his face had gone pale, his shoulders now trembling with heated emotions.

"Julian? Are you ok?" Dax tried in alarm.

"NO, I'm not ok!" Bashir yelled back, his composure slipping with every second. "I'm damn not ok. How should I be? I was shot at, captured, tortured, broken, mentally abused! I was made betray everything I believed in, I was made kill innocent people, I was made live even though I wanted 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 that even surprised himself. But it was there, rushing relentlessly 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 from 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 had 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 for his rescue. 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 anyone to patronize him, to tell him that everything would be alright. He didn't need their advice, and he didn't need their worries – least of all their care. He needed someone to shout at him, to berate him for the 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 made the wrong decision. He needed someone to take him for what he was – a monster, a cold-blooded monster.

And then Dax stood up, 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 patronize me!"

He was apparently beyond reason. Dax didn't know what had prompted the sudden outburst, but Julian shook with barely controlled emotions. The last time she had seen him this distraught and wild was 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 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. Taking 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 it was 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 next, he 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 held back by anybody against his will. She he felt her heart stop dead in her chest when she saw the young man in the distance backing frantically away from the security guards that had come rushing over to them from the other side of the promenade.

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, twisting it behind his back so quickly that the young man didn't even have time to react; thus making it almost impossible for Julian to free his arm.

"Don't touch me!" Julian screamed, the once hot anger now completely transformed 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 with his legs, convulsing and trying to free himself. It was a horrible sight. Many passers-by had stopped in confusion to look at the sudden commotion, gathering in small groups, not sure if the sudden chaos was posing any immediate threat to them.

Dax ignored them, focusing solely on Bashir, who seemed on the verge of losing his mind.

"Let him go! Let him go!" she shouted desperately as she ran towards the group of men. Julian would go into post-traumatic shock if they didn't release him.

With a concerned look towards the approaching Trill, one of the security guards hesitated. But when he saw Jadzia's contorted face, he immediately let go of Bashir, who stumbled to keep his balance.

"Let me.. let me go," Julian breathlessly gasped, his mind gripped by indescribable horror.

She reached him only seconds later, pulling him back by 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 notice O'Brien, Kira – and a profoundly confused Quark – running toward them as she hastily tapped her combadge.

"Dax to Infirmary. We've got a medical emergency."