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Chapter Text

How the hell do I get myself into these situations?

The ropes burnt his wrists, providing a sharp sting with the slightest of movements. His shoulders ached from being forced behind him with far greater force than what would've been sufficient to hold him. He was sure his legs were now permanently fused with the chair, having been restrained hours ago.

Had it been hours? There was no way to tell.

The bandages were the worst part. Wrapped tightly around his head, they irritated the hairs on the back of his neck. No matter how much he'd screamed and cried for help, they kept his lips firmly pressed together.

Of course they were old fashioned crepe bandages too; on the rare occasion where he'd lacked the appropriate equipment, he hated using them due to the discomfort caused upon removal. He would be left with harsh and obvious markings on his skin when a rescuer removed them.

If rescue happened, that was.

Alone, shivering and terrified, Julian hung his head and began to cry.

The invitation had seemed genuine enough, but he should've known better.

Chapter Text

He sat quietly in the bar, staring idly at his synthale. The first four glasses had done nothing to quench the ache in his soul, hence why he'd ordered a fifth. He was grateful that he had tomorrow off duty; he'd rather spend the day drowning himself in more alcohol to combat the hangover he expected to wake up with.

How had it been three days since she left? Between the insanity of the infirmary and attempting to get some sleep, days on the station usually blended together. Yet now he felt as though he could tell exactly how many seconds since his lips last met hers.

He'd decided on the day she left it would be a long time before he went back to the Klingon restaurant. The way she had looked across the table at him before they departed. He'd even declined Dax's offer of having dinner there, despite it being a dream come true that she would ask him out anywhere. How could I? He thought. All I see there is her.

He gazed into his synthale. It only occurred to him then that it shared the same shade of blue as her eyes. I'd rather suffer Dax's rejections than be in this hell.

He was contemplating going back for a sixth glass when he noticed Quark approaching. Surprisingly, he'd waited for some time before making his way over. "Doctor! I think this is the most I've seen you drink for a long time."

Halfway through a mouthful, Julian could only widen his eyes at Quark's presence. Oh God, here we go…

"I couldn't help but notice how longingly you've been gazing at your drink."

Julian quirked an eyebrow. "Surely you've got more interesting customers to observe than me."

"Well, I mean, the bar isn't that busy tonight, and I-"

"I'm not interested in the state of your bar right now, Quark, or whatever scheme you're trying to pull. I'd rather appreciate it if you left me alone." Julian said abruptly.

It took Quark a moment to respond, seemingly stunned by Julian's blunt attitude. He bent underneath the counter, pulling out an empty glass and a bottle of Romulan ale. "Can I interest you in a different beverage? I mean, you've already had, what, five synthales? Surely you'd like a different flavour."

Julian ignored the question by taking another sip.

"Ah, I see," Quark finished pouring the ale and leaned across the counter. "Tell me about this woman, doctor."

Julian spluttered. "What makes you think I'm-"

"Why else would you be drinking in here instead of your quarters?" Quark pointed out. "I see heartbroken people all the time, doctor. And I've seen you enough times in here crying over Dax. I just want to let you know, I'm here to lend a friendly ear."

"Ha! Friendly? Y-You're just trying to find a way to get me drunker." Julian slurred.

"I don't need to help you with that. You seem capable enough on your own," Quark poured himself a glass of ale. "Consider the drink on the house. You may find it helps you relax a bit more."

Drowning himself in the remainder of his synthale seemed more preferable than to confess his feelings to Quark, yet Julian couldn't help himself. Perhaps the first four glasses were having an effect after all. "You remember the Elaysian officer we had on board recently?"

"Ah, of course! Elaysians are such an interesting species. I don't remember seeing her in the bar, though. Oh, what was her name?…It was Velora, wasn't it?"

"Melora," Julian snapped. He slammed the table in anger. "I-I had thought we had something, Quark! She was willing to undergo the treatments! Th-they were working perfectly and she was happy! Then she goes and decides that she wanted to 'stay independent' and moved on to some other assignment." He couldn't stop the words from tumbling out.

Quark pursed his lips. "Perhaps this would serve as an opportunity to continue pursuing Lieutenant Dax?"

"Sod off," Julian took a much bigger sip than he intended, nearly choking on it.

Quark rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine. In that case, I believe that a holosuite program will be the best distraction-"

"Maybe I want to wallow for a while. Is that too much to a-ask?" Julian glared at the Ferengi.

"I've never understood the appeal of wallowing. I can, however, understand the drinking, though."

Julian scowled. "What do you suggest then?"

Quark was almost beaming with excitement. "I mean, I can always set you up with one of your regular spy thrillers if you want, but I have recently come to acquire a new genre of holosuite program and I believe will fit your tastes perfectly, doctor."

Brilliant, Julian thought as he finished another swig. "And how would you, Quark, be aware of my 'tastes'? I don't t-tend to discuss holosuite programs with many people."

"I've known what fantasies you crave since the day you set foot in this bar, my friend."

Julian chuckled. "A likely story. Y-You'd have to be a telepath, for God's sake."

"It was obvious from the moment you first came in here! The young, noble doctor, fresh from his home planet, who craves adventure and excitement with the promise of 'frontier medicine'," Quark smirked. "You carry the essence of someone looking for greatness. To be a hero, save lives or…something."

"What are you trying to sell me? A program full of women?" Julian raised his voice, pointing furiously at his drink. "Why do think I'm drinking tonight? To forget about women!"

Quark put up his hands. "Now, now, doctor. I'm not one to reveal the stories of these programs; it just spoils the fun. One of my friends tried the program himself this morning and said it was absolutely delightful. I believe he got it off a-"

"Your 'friend'? Since when have we EVER trusted one of your friends?" Julian drunkenly poked Quark in the chest.

"Well, actually, I don't know who they were. Looked human, though in this day and age you can never know. From what he told me, it involved some sort of ancient Earth mystery, though I'm not into that sort of holoprogram. Especially if there's no Dabo girls."

"..Like I said, you moron," Julian raised his glass, "I don't wanna talk about women. They suck. I'm gonna kill my liver instead."

"That's the spirit, doctor." Quark muttered, reminding himself to never let Julian get drunk in his establishment again.

Julian sculled the remainder of his synthale, relishing the bitter taste as it ran down his throat.

"I was also told that this particular program requires a second participant for the…fullest experience." Quark added.

Julian snorted. He had accepted by now that he was definitely drunk; he was actually considering a proposal from Quark! "Who the hell would want to join m-me in a holosuite program? I'm not exactly a popular man to hang out with, if you've noticed or anything. All the girls run away from me like little puppies."

"I mean, I'd offer to go with you, but I've got so much on my plate. Running the bar is basically my life."

"You've always got your tw-twat of a brother to run it."

Quark smirked. "Should I take that as an invite to your holosuite program?"

"God, no." Julian reached for the Romulan ale. "I couldn't think of anything worse than a holosuite program with you."

"You have definitely had too much tonight, doctor. I'm proud of you."

Julian mumbled something unintelligible as he sculled the ale, only stopping briefly to catch his breath. The room swayed as he clumsily slammed the glass on the counter, not noticing Quark's pained expression at seeing the treatment of his merchandise.

Quark was beginning to wonder how to escort the drunken doctor to his quarters when he noticed Garak, perched in a quiet corner away from the Dabo tables. The tailor nodded in acknowledge, raising an empty glass.

"Garak!" Quark called, relieved to have found someone to take Julian off his hands. "A pleasure to see you! Please, come join us!"

"Thank you, Mister Quark," Garak gracefully took a seat beside Julian, who was starting to sag over his ale. "I take it he's in need of an escort home?"

"Wuh? Garak?" Julian's eyes fluttered. "Didn't expect to s-see you here."

"Nor did I, my dear doctor. I believe it's time we got you home." Garak helped the doctor to his feet, albeit with force.

Quark grinned. "Make sure he comes to the holosuites tomorrow with some early twentieth-century clothing. Don't worry, it's on the house."

Garak studied the bartender intently. "A free holosuite program, Mister Quark? That is incredibly generous. Dare I ask what you're expecting in return from the good doctor?"

"Nothing, of course! What can I say? I'm known for my hospitality," Quark grabbed the empty glasses and hurriedly placed them under the counter. "I've even agreed to let the gentleman who I originally bought the program from add some modifications tomorrow. I haven't tested it myself, but based on his feedback, once he's done with it, it'll be an exhilarating experience. Perhaps you'd like to be involved as well? I'm more than happy to offer a discounted fee for the best Cardassian tailor onboard."

Garak glanced at the doctor, who was hovering between states of consciousness. "That is an enticing offer, Mister Quark. I would be delighted to attend - if I am invited, of course."

"Of course, G'ruk," Julian slurred, finally succumbing to the Romulan ale and collapsing to the floor.

Quark leant over the counter, staring at the doctor in surprise. "I've never seen him this drunk. Perhaps you can give him some Cardassian counselling or something. I'm not having him collapsing in my bar every night until he gets over this Elayasian girl."

"M'lora," Julian mumbled, face down on the floor.

Garak smirked as he bent down, turning the drunken doctor onto his side. He glanced up at Quark. "Would you be a supportive host and help me to lift the good doctor up?"

Quark rolled his eyes internally. "Of course."

Neither of them noticed a figure in the shadows, observing as they struggled to transport the deadweight doctor back to his quarters. He leaned idly against the wall, a sly expression across his face. "Well then, Mister Bashir; let's see if we can knock some sense into you about being a hero."

Chapter Text

I have THE worst headache.

Julian rubbed his temples for the fifteenth time since he awoke on his cot. He'd been surprised to discover someone had been in his quarters, though this wasn't noticed until he sprinted for the bathroom.

After emptying the contents of his stomach in the nearest waste bin, he noticed a padd lying on the floor next to it. It seemed his visitor knew he'd make a visit to this particular location.

Gagging on some bile, Julian snatched the padd and squinted at the message:

Hope you are better this morning, Doctor. Quark told me of your free holosuite program and I am eager to try it with you. Please come to my shop as soon as possible - we must sober you up before it commences at 1430 hours. - Garak

"Garak saw me drunk?" Julian gasped, instantly mortified. Oh Lord, what if I said something insulting? Or stupid? Or both?!

The revelation seemed to snap Julian out of his drunken haze. Gazing at the chronometer, he realised it was already 1300 hours. He picked himself up off the floor, brushing his uniform down and made a beeline for the promenade.

"Doctor! I am glad to see you looking better." Garak chirped, watching Julian stumble in. "Please, come through. We haven't much time to prepare before our adventure!"

Julian didn't have a chance to respond before Garak's arm wrapped around his shoulders, gently guiding him to the back of the shop. The world span slightly as he was nudged into a seat. Don't you dare throw up on him, Julian.

"I must say, doctor, you gave us quite a fright with your degree of alcohol consumption yesterday." Garak commented.

"How do I know you didn't put some sort of sedative in my drink? I'm sure you'd be skilled at tha-," Julian fell into a pattern of coughing and dry retches.

"My dear doctor, if I were a spy wanting to extract information from you," Garak put a hand on Julian's back, "I would not take advantage of you in such a vulnerable situation."

"..I'm..sure.."

"Believe me, doctor, interrogating a drunken suspect is no way to obtain reliable information."

The retching subsided, and Julian gradually sat himself upright. "I haven't felt this awful in a long time."

"That's because you performed the unsightly practice of consuming Romulan ale, in combination with an excess of synthale. I assure you, doctor, there are far better beverages to indulge oneself in."

Julian groaned. "What's this..plan you mentioned to sober me up?"

"An old recipe we would use to rouse the drunks found in the streets back on Cardassia. It worked wonders - I have no reason to see why it wouldn't be effective on a human. Black coffee, double strong, no sugar," Garak collected a mug from the replicator and passed it to Julian. "Don't drink it yet. I have yet to add the final ingredient."

The artificial smell was enough to send Julian's stomach into somersaults once more. "Garak, I don't think I can keep this down."

"Nonsense, doctor. It is only a matter of perception," Garak moved to a nearby storage unit, sorting through a variety of items until he removed a singular glass vial. "Ah, there it is!"

"Let me guess," Julian coughed, fighting the bile threatening to rise in his throat, "That's the…truth serum you use for your prisoners?"

"I see your sense of humour is returning! We are making good progress," Garak gave the vial a gentle flick, the contents swirling in a delicate pattern.

"I believe the human equivalent of this is known as caffeine, but I'm almost not very familiar with human stimulants," Garak poured the contents of the vial into Julian's coffee, the dark-coloured sprinkles merging with the warm liquid beneath them to form a light brown mixture. He gave the mug a gentle shake before handing it back to Julian. "We used to refer to it as the chi-detot."

"The beverage or the…flakes?" Julian gazed into his mug, concerned.

Garak smiled. "Depends on if you were being interrogated or if you were the interrogator."

Julian sighed. "Garak, can't you be straight with me for once in yo-aumph!" He was cut off as the mug was forcibly pressed to his mouth, the hot liquid catching him by surprise. Oh, well done, Julian. When will you learn to shut up in times like this?

"Doctor, I do apologise for my hastiness, but are to attempt to keep to our schedule, hmm?" Garak looked sympathetically at Julian, who was now spluttering. "I know it isn't the most exquisite tasting beverage-"

"Are you kidding? It's bloody disgusting!" Julian wiped his chin with his sleeve. He rose to his feet, straightening his uniform. "I appreciate your help, Garak, but-"

"But I think my potion has done its job." Garak smiled, disappearing into a nearby dressing room.

Julian opened his mouth to retort, but stopped suddenly. He realised how the room was no longer rotating violently. The nausea had seemingly evaporated, and the unsteadiness in his feet now nonexistent. Unbelievable! This man is a miracle worker.

"Garak?" Julian shouted. "Can you give me the recipe for this?"

Chapter Text

He is a remarkable couturier, I must say. Even if it is a replicated garment.

Julian admired himself in the mirror, his fingers fiddling with completing the bowtie around his collar. The delicate fibres of the black cotton suit Garak had provided him seemed to perfectly complement his features. The jacket had multiple pockets, each lined with intricate silk that felt glossy beneath his fingertips. The trousers, albeit a tad smaller than what he would usually wear, were comfortable and allowed for a free range of movement.

What made Julian intrigued were the additions of a top hat and cane. He'd looked at Garak, confused. "I thought you said it was early twentieth century?"

"This is early twentieth century, my dear doctor. And I mean very early," Garak had smirked. "I thought it be best if we covered all possibilities, and we can easily abandon the accessories if required."

Shrugging off his puzzlement, Julian adjusted his hat so it tilted ever so slightly. He swiftly grasped his cane and left the dressing room to find Garak dressed in an identical suit.

"Ah, marvellous! I'm glad the attire fits you!" Garak straightened his bowtie, obviously pleased with his handiwork.

Julian fiddled with one of his cufflinks. "It is impressive, Garak, but how did you know what measurements would fit me?"

"You aren't the tallest person on the station, nor the skinniest," Garak commented. "I simply made the conclusion that the average measurement for humans of your stature would suit you best."

"Well, I must say, you've done a wonderful job. Thank you, Garak."

"My pleasure, doctor. Now, we must be on our way! Mister Quark will be expecting us."

"Madam, I insist you make your way to security immediately!"

Julian supposed he shouldn't have been surprised to see Odo escorting patrons from Quark's back to his office. What did surprise him was how deserted the establishment was. Rom and a few other Ferengi seemed to be the only patrons, sharing drinks at one of the smaller tables.

"I assume you are thinking the same as I, doctor," Garak muttered. "Where is our illustrious host?"

"Odo!" Julian managed to catch the changeling's arm as he walked past. "What's going on? The place seems deserted."

Odo gave him a grim expression. "Take a look behind the counter. We found Quark lying in a pool of blood earlier this morning."

Julian was instantly horrified. "Is he alive?"

"Barely. I've already spoken to Rom, who seems to be the only other person present at the time," Odo folded his arms. "He claims the attacker had an accomplice who restrained him, while the former pulled out a dagger of some description and assaulted Quark."

"W-what? Why wasn't I notified?"

"We tried calling you. Several times, as a matter of fact," Odo inclined his head towards Julian. "But it seems you must've been in a very deep sleep."

Julian instantly felt his cheeks burn. Dammit, of course he knows. Some sort of role model I am.

Garak seemed to notice the doctor's discomfort and leant his voice to the conversation. "Constable, are there any leads so far in your investigation? Surely the perpetrators left something behind."

"Actually, we do have a clue of some sorts. I'd been meaning to talk to you about it, doctor," Odo pulled out a padd, passing it to Julian. "It was found next to Quark's body. Your name is mentioned in a message from the assailant."

"Me?" Julian took the padd, hands slightly trembling. "But I wouldn't participate in acts like this!"

"I know you wouldn't, doctor, but I do ask you read it. Hopefully you can provide some insight." Odo replied.

Nodding hesitantly, Julian began scanning through the message:

Greetings, Bashir. I hope you are in a better state of mind than yesterday evening.

I am aware of your fondness for heroics. I remember you expressing desires for adventure and excitement years ago. It does not surprise me you still retain that boyish desire for greatness.

It has always irritated me, however, how you always thought of yourself as being 'holier than thou'. How you were always top of the class, displaying your vast intelligence. How you put your own needs before others, pursuing your wishes first.

You may have graduated as salutatorian, but you are not a supreme being. It is time you underwent a lesson of the school of reality, and learn that you aren't as resilient as you believe.

I offered this program to Quark in the expectation of maintaining its secrecy. His reveal of its origins forced me to alter my plans. His disposal should indicate to you I am capable and willing to harm those near to you. I strongly suggest you comply with my requests.

Proceed to holosuite three. Your 'adventure' awaits.

- P.

Had Odo not stretched his arm out, Julian would've let the padd crash to the floor of the promenade. He instantly felt nauseous. This criminal obviously knew him somehow, but from where?

"Can you give me anything to go on, doctor?" Odo's voice prompted the doctor to step out of his panicked thoughts.

Julian was lost for words. "I…I don't know. I must've agreed to some sort of holosuite program while I was-"

"Drinking heavily with Quark, I am aware of that much," Odo allowed his frustration to slip. "But what motive would they possess to attack him?"

"…Surely they wouldn't inflict harm on him to cause me pain? I mean, I don't utterly despise the man, but I certainly don't care that much for Quark. He's not 'near' to me."

"Perhaps this person did not mean it in that sense. They may be referring to those in general proximity as an intimidation tactic," Odo began to pace. "It seems to me that this person has some sort of vendetta against you. "Did you have any enemies, any previous dealings with suspicious-"

"No! Odo, I'm telling you, I don't know who the hell this person is!" Julian shouted. He ignored the startled looks from those nearby as frantically ran his fingers through his hair, as if daring himself to pull each individual follicle out. "…I just don't understand why I'm the target of this. Yes, I-I can be, um, irritating, but I-"

"May I suggest we proceed to the holosuite as planned'?" Garak interrupted, placing a comforting hand on Julian's shoulder. "I have reason to believe we may find some further answers there."

Before Julian could agree, Odo had already begun walking. "I'll have security posted outside the holosuite while you two are inside. If anything, and I mean anything happens, you are to exit the program immediately. Is that clear?"

"Of course, constable." Garak smiled. He glanced over his shoulder. "Doctor?"

"Um…yes, yes, of course." Julian stammered. He nervously fiddled with his bowtie. "I'm just very confused, that's all."

"That makes two of us," Odo muttered.

Chapter Text

Of course the safeties are off.

Julian looked at the holosuite's control panel. He realised he should've expected that the safeties would be disengaged; the whole point of this program seemed to be to cause him harm. He punched in his override codes, yet they only returned an error message. "Is there anyway we can engage the safety protocols? I don't feel comfortable going into an unfamiliar program without them."

"Quark would've known how, I'm sure," Odo sighed. "Unfortunately, I'm not a holosuite expert."

"What about O'Brien?" Julian suggested. "S-surely we could fetch him from-"

"Doctor," Garak interrupted hastily. "I believe we should be on our way." He raised his hand, gesturing towards the holosuite doors.

Julian opened his mouth to snap at Garak when he noticed their new companion. A tall humanoid emerged from the holosuite, draped in dark and concealing clothing. It was impossible to determine what species they were, though they appeared to possess a pair of scowling eyes; they met Julian's gaze, sending an uncomfortable shiver through his body.

"I assume you are the mysterious P?" Odo took a step forward, hands clasped on the phaser behind his back. "You have a lot of explaining to do."

The humanoid possessed incredible speed, though no one realised what was happening until a phaser was produced from the creature's clothing and pointed at Garak's throat. The tailor was seized by his assailant, arms pinned firmly to his sides.

"Garak!" Julian cried. He had raised his arm to attack when he was flung violently against the holosuite doors, toppling to the floor as they opened.

The creature stared down at the winded doctor, Garak struggling in its grasp. What only be described as a growl emerged from its throat: "Follow, or he dies."

For a split second, Julian was convinced the humanoid was going to step on his stomach, but instead found himself being dragged by the collar into the holosuite and dumped head-first on a hardened surface. Stars instantly appeared across his vision.

"Computer, engage program." The growl of the creature's voice rang out.

He vaguely heard Odo calling his name and the holosuite doors activating before succumbing to unconsciousness.

Never mind, this is the worst headache.

Julian's eyes fluttered open, his vision still slightly fuzzy. Once he was certain nausea and dizziness would not overwhelm him, he slowly manoeuvred himself upright.

He seemed to be in an empty alleyway, the only source of light radiating from a lamp post about thirty metres away. Where the holosuite doors were before was now nothing but a darkened brick wall, with suspicious stains serving as its graffiti. The floor had assumed the form of a concrete path, with small groups of ugly green weeds poking out from the cracks. A faint scream vaguely rang in his ears.

He immediately pieced together two things: that if Odo could've rescued him, he would've done so by now, and that therefore he was on his own.

It took him a moment to register that he was bleeding somewhere. He blindly felt around his face and head, pulling away to find all of his fingers sparkling with blood. Is it my eye or my skull? Or both? I can't tell. He gently wiped his hand on his suit before placing it on the wall, using it as leverage to hoist himself off of the ground.

Julian brushed down his trousers. "This is not the dignified start I was expecting."

Deciding not to remain in the one spot for too long, he made his way forward through the darkness. His hands buried themselves in his pockets as he became lost in thought. What had this 'P' done with Garak? Was he supposed to rescue him and 'prove' himself as a hero?

His thoughts were rudely interrupted by a gun being shoved under his chin.

Chapter Text

For God's sake, I'd only walked ten metres!

"If you start screamin, you die. Got it?" A gruff voice whispered in Julian's ear.

"…Yes." Julian hissed. He tried to ignore his rising panic. With no safety protocols in place, he could easily end up as a blood splatter on the holodeck wall.

"Good. Turn around and empty your pockets."

Julian cautiously moved to face his assailant, who appeared to be no older than early twenties. He was a filthy young man, with a ratty, thin jacket, yellowed teeth and what Julian hoped were red ink stains on his hands. Clumps of greasy hair poked out beneath his cap and odd-looking spots decorated his dirt-covered skin; Julian recognised them as chickenpox scars. I must be in a period before the vaccine was developed.

The man raised his weapon, aiming it directly between Julian's eyes. "Start emptyin'. Now."

"I don't have anything on me." Julian spoke calmly. "I came to town with nothing-"

"Don't give me bullshit stories!" The man shouted. He aggressively shoved Julian up against the alley wall, pressing the gun harder into his forehead. "That ain't no suit a poor man would wear. I suggest you change your story. Empty them pockets!"

Julian gulped. "You can search me if you want, but I'm telling you, I don't have-"

He hadn't even finished before his assailant grabbed his throat, constricting his airway significantly. The man gave Julian a disgustingly sincere smile as he placed his weapon into his pocket before reaching into Julian's jacket. The man fumbled around in a few pockets before he removed Julian's combadge. "I do love searching dead bodies, y'know."

Bugger. I forgot I brought that.

Julian's vision quickly began to go dark. Deciding to use what oxygen he still had remaining in his brain, Julian flung his foot in the direction he hoped would connect with the assailant's groin. A loud expletive erupted from the man's throat, dropping Julian as he collapsed to the ground.

Julian tried to slow his breathing, but he still couldn't help but gulp air into his lungs. His first instinct was to start running, but he realised having a weapon would be an advantage in his quest to retrieve Garak.

The would-be mugger was still curled in the foetal position; Julian didn't realise his kick had been that strong. He stepped around the man, bending down to grab the discarded gun. His fingers had just clasped around it when an excruciating pain ripped through his head, the assailant having recovered enough to deliver a kick to Julian's brow.

Despite the throbbing ringing in his skull, Julian somehow managed to retain his grip on his new prize. He blindly jammed his elbow into the assailant before whacking the barrel of the gun across the man's face, instantly causing a spurt of blood to spring from his nose.

Gasping for breath, Julian tightened his grip on his weapon and made a sprint for the end of the alley. He didn't dare to look behind him, afraid that the man's face would appear instantly if he did. The thought of going back for his communicator was appealing, especially if he was counting on Odo to find some way to teleport him out of the program. I suppose if Odo could've teleported me out, he would've done it by now. Maybe I can find a way to get it if I can get this guy off my tail.

Upon reaching the end of the lane, Julian found himself directly under the lamp post he had originally aimed to reach. The alleyway opened up into a similar-looking street, with drab brick buildings lining both sides of a cobblestone road. The lamp post appeared to be the only one that worked on the street, as Julian couldn't see further than about fifty metres. The general atmosphere he was observing was that it appeared to be a small village in Europe, though he couldn't tell when or where exactly.

"You bastard!"

A cry from the mugger startled Julian, and he promptly turned left, dashing down the street as fast as his legs could carry him. He hoped that his brief assessment of the man's poor health status proved to be correct; he didn't feel up to running a marathon away from this criminal.

The light from the lamp post quickly faded as Julian made a dash for freedom. It wasn't long before he found himself squinting to observe his surroundings. He decided to take the chance for a break, quickly ducking into another alleyway. Leaning against the wall with a hand over his mouth to mask his rapid breathing, Julian listened for his assailant's footsteps, which had seemingly disappeared.

He waited there for some time, his eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. The village didn't appear as large as he had initially thought, as he now seemed to be on the outskirts. The cobblestone road gradually dissolved into a dirt road lined with scruffy bushes, leading towards a luscious forest about fifty metres ahead of his current position.

He was suddenly aware of heavy footsteps. Unsure what direction they were coming from, Julian decided to take a gamble and bolted for the forest. Sharp branches hitched on his suit as he ran. He kept swatting at the leaves crowding his vision, one or two catching themselves in his mouth. He felt the sting of small cuts across his hands and cheeks as he swiped at the obstacles in front of him.

The footsteps grew louder, though he couldn't tell if that was because there were more people pursuing him or if the assailant had caught up to him.

Suddenly, he was grabbed by another unknown figure and violently slammed into a thick group of bushes. The figure put its full body weight onto Julian, firmly pinning him to the ground. A hand clamped down strongly on his mouth to squeeze it shut. Julian instantly cried out, though it came out as a pathetic squeak.

Julian's eyes widened as he stared at his attacker, letting out of an exclamation of surprise. Garak?

"Shush, doctor!"

Chapter Text

Bloody hell, Garak!

Despite knowing it was his friend restraining him, Julian kept instinctively struggling. He let out another muffled exclamation while attempting to slap Garak. God, this must look ridiculous.

"Doctor!" Garak whispered harshly, tightening his grip. He jerked his head upwards.

At that moment a loud shout filled the air, footsteps coming to a sudden stop. "Buggering hell, I lost 'im!"

Julian's eyes widened. That sounds like the mugger from before…

A second set of footsteps came to a halt, the unknown person gasping for breath. Julian could just make out their shoes through the leaves of the bush and prayed that they would remain hidden. "Dammit! You should've just shot him!"

"We're supposed to keep 'im alive! Dead Turks don't talk! What'd you want me to do?!"

Turk? Julian realised they must be talking about his skin colour. Still, he wasn't sure what a Turk was supposed to be.

"Knock him out, punch him, I dunno!" The second voice snapped. It sounded like. "The boss is not gonna like this. We need that info."

"Well at least I tried," The first man snorted.

"Trying isn't gonna save us, dipshit. Come on, let's keep going. Maybe he's up ahead."

Rapid footsteps indicated the muggers' departure, though Garak continued to restrain Julian.

They're gone! Let me up! Julian grunted softly, yet Garak kept his hand firmly glued to his mouth. He seemingly lost in thought as he pondered what they'd just heard. Julian even wondered if he was reminiscing about his days in espionage. But now was not the time for relieving the past.

Garak, you're hurting my face. Julian mumbled again into Garak's hand, prompting the Cardassian to remove it.

Garak heaved himself off of Julian, brushing down his suit. "I do apologise for the restraint, doctor, but you must understand that-"

"Garak!" Julian snapped, sitting himself upright. "What the hell is going on here?! First I see you get dragged off by some humanoid, I get attacked by a mugger, and now there's a whole group of them after us? What happened? Where are we?!"

"Doctor, please," Garak took a moment to observe for any nearby listeners. He leaned forward, whispering in Julian's ear. "We seem to be targets of some sort of extremist group. That humanoid who kidnapped me seems to be one of the 'spies' of this group."

"Extremist group?" Julian muttered. "But this is early twentieth-century Earth! I thought there weren't any extremist groups at that point."

"It is possible my assessment of our situation may be incorrect," Garak pointed out. "After all, I am not as good a historian as I am a tailor. Have you been able to deduce the local dialect?"

Julian frowned. "My attacker spoke English, but I didn't recognise the accent. Same with the other gentleman," He looked at Garak. "What happened to you? How'd you find me?"

"I was incapacitated in a similar manner to yourself," Garak commented. "I don't know how long I was unconscious, but I awoke in some sort of underground facility not far from here. The guards were very sloppy in tying my restraints; it almost seemed I was invited to escape. On my way out I overheard them in conversation with one of the gentlemen who just missed us."

Julian suddenly snapped to attention. He initially didn't believe the gunfire was real, or the heavy marching of boots. As much it frightened him, it confirmed his suspicions. They were still out of immediate danger, but things would undoubtedly get worse from here. "Garak, we need to get out of this program."

Garak stared into his friend's eyes. "I don't suppose you've had an epiphany of our location?"

Julian sighed. "You didn't hear that marching? Or the gunshots?"

"Doctor, I am sure you are aware of how terrible Cardassan hearing is by now."

Julian rolled his eyes internally. "I'm not sure about the country, but those gunshots…They sound too old…Garak, I think we're in the middle of the first world war."

Garak cocked his head. "'World war'? I assume you mean this involves the majority of the planet?"

"Yes it does," Julian snapped. "It was the biggest bloodshed in Earth history at the time. They called it 'the war to end all wars'."

"I see they made promises that couldn't be kept, given the number of conflicts it seems your people have had."

Understatement of the century. "Garak, I don't care about following this program's story. We have to find a way to get out of this holosuite. If the safeties are off and we end up in a trench or get interrogated by either side, there's no telling if we'll make it out alive."

Garak appeared confused. "A trench, doctor? I don't suppose you mean a coat?"

If they were having this conversation in the replimat, Julian probably would've sniggered. "In this particular war, soldiers on both sides would build massive ditches and use them as protection against the enemy. They were notoriously foul. Thousands of men were killed." He gave Garak a look that indicated he didn't wish to discuss it any further.

"I see. I must admit, as much as it sounds inappropriate, that I find myself a bit curious about the interrogation techniques used in…primitive wars, such as this."

Julian's eyes narrowed. "Planning to take back tips and tricks for your beloved Obsidian Order?"

"Of course not, doctor. I am but a humble tailor," Garak smiled. "I simply wish to broaden my understanding of your planet's history. Speaking of which, why did that man refer to you as a Turk? Is that meant as an insult or as a description?"

"To be honest, I'm not sure," Julian admitted. "It's definitely something to do with my skin colour. Even during a war, people were still conflicted about race."

"I see. How do you propose we make our escape, doctor?"

"That's the part I'm not sure about. We might have to go along with some of the program. For example, if part of this program involves one of us being captured or we get separated somehow, the other should still attempt a rescue-"

"-But continue looking for a way out at the same time. A reasonable plan, doctor," Garak leaned against a nearby tree, using it to lift his weight off the ground. "Shall we press on?"

Chapter Text

I should've paid more attention in my orienteering course at the academy.

It took them some time, along with some colourful words exchanged between them, but both men were able to retrace their steps to the village. Dawn was quickly approaching; the first rays of sunlight casting a glint over the rooftops. Both came to the agreement that it would be best not to return to the streets during daylight, and decided to find an appropriate place to sleep, despite Garak's insistence that Cardassians did not require as much sleep as humans.

They had come across an abandoned cottage on their travel. In Julian's eyes, it resembled the sort of structure he would've read about in a fairytale; an old, decaying cottage with vines that some mystical witch or a wolf lived in. About half of the roof was missing, with tattered and grotty sheets fluttering over the absent section. A singular squirrel was perched on the remains of the mailbox, and quickly fled upon seeing Garak's rapid approach.

"Doctor, I do believe we've found ourselves a perfect hiding place," Garak proclaimed, beaming at Julian.

"It's hardly what I'd call hospitable," Julian smirked, "but I suppose we could bunker down for a while."

Garak waved aside a branch as he made his way through the remains of the front garden. "I must say, I find the amount of foliage on your home planet extraordinary! There seems to be an infinite amount of trees."

"Enjoy the scenery while it lasts," Julian commented, gesturing to their surroundings. "In about a hundred and fifty years, this will be nothing but a nuclear wasteland. A bomb will be dropped over Europe with four times as much explosive power as the most powerful bomb detonated in world war two."

Garak shook his head disapprovingly. "That's also another thing in abundance on this planet."

"What, nuclear weapons?!"

"No, doctor. It's your species' desire for destruction."

Julian scoffed. "I could say the same thing about your species' desire for order and surveillance."

"At least we have a purpose for our…'surveillance'," Garak snapped. "Your people certainly could have used it if it meant preventing such violence."

"Believe me, Garak," Julian stopped outside the front door, "Sometimes I'm glad we never followed the same path as Cardassia."

Garak opened his mouth to retort, but was interrupted by the front door being violently slammed. A hand shot out from the darkness within the house, grabbed Julian by the collar and pulled him inside before either of them could make a sound.

Startled, Garak pursued them into the dwelling. He squinted, eyes rapidly adjusting to the reduced lighting. Julian was sprawled on his back, eyes rapidly bouncing between Garak and his assailant. One hand was clasped over his mouth, the other pressing a knife against his throat. The assailant's knees firmly pinned Julian's arms to the ground.

The assailant growled at Garak. "Make a move and he dies!"

Not the least bit intimidated, Garak took a moment to analyse the assailant. He was a short and scrawny young man, with unkempt hair and a crazed look in his eyes. If it'd been any other situation, Garak would've laughed at how Julian was so easily subdued by this twig of a human.

From Julian's point of view, the man currently threatening to slice his trachea open was either legitimately unwell or was high as a kite on some sort of drug. He was suspecting the latter due to the man's unusually large pupils, but decided to put the matter aside once he noticed Garak's approach.

The man looked startled. "Didn't you hear me?! Move and I'll kill him!"

Bashir tried to shake his head at Garak, but was quickly deterred by the knife being pressed ever so closer to his skin. For the love of God, Garak, don't do anything stupid…

"I don't believe you'd have the nerve to commit such an act," Garak said pleasantly. "However, I must admit I am impressed by your stealth and quick manner of restraining your captive."

Julian rolled his eyes. Flattery will get you everywhere.

The assailant lowered his knife slightly. "You mean…you do this as well?"

"Of course! I've found it necessary to ensure my safety over the years. After all," Garak's eyes lit up with mischief, "you can never be too sure if a visitor to your home possess unworldly powers."

Julian groaned. Of course he's going with that conspiracy story.

"You're a believer as well?!" The assailant looked delighted. He drew the knife away from Julian's throat. "I knew it! I knew there were others like us out there!"

Garak smiled. "I'm glad to meet a fellow disciple. Perhaps you would be so kind as to release my friend?"

The smile instantly evaporated from the assailant's face. "How do you know he's not gonna slice my balls off the second I let go?" He gestured his head towards Julian. "That's what they do, y'know, them aliens."

Garak refused to allow his disbelief at this man's imagination show. "I see. What else do these…aliens do?"

"I thought you were a believer?" The assailant sighed. "Everybody knows what them aliens do! They can slice off your manhood with their fingernails!"

"I can assure you, my friend is quite harmless. I took the liberty of removing his fingernails some time ago to prevent any incidents, and they haven't regrown the same way since."

Julian began mumbling angrily. Garak, shut up and do something useful.

"In fact," Garak raised his eyebrows at Julian, "I happen to have found a weapon that we can use against the aliens."

"Really?!" The man's eyes lit up. "Where is it?!"

Garak moved closer, lowering his voice. "I've had to hide it in the village. I mean, if the Germans found it…"

The man nodded. "Say no more. I'll go grab it for you!"

"Excellent! I believe I buried it near the police station, as they make fantastic guards."

Without another word, the assailant leapt off of Julian and made a beeline for the front door. Garak smoothly made his way to the front door, locking it with a casual flick of the wrist. "I trust you're alright, doctor?"

Julian rubbed his mouth. "What in the hell was that?"

Garak seemed insulted. "I was simply trying to find a solution to get that man to release you without attacking him! I thought you would've appreciated my peaceful method?"

"What? No, no. Why the hell wasn't he scared of you?" Julian gestured furiously to Garak, clearly exasperated. "I'm not the one with a spoon on my forehead! Why wasn't he questioning the fact you have a spoon on your forehead?!"

"How should I know? Perhaps I must look like an enemy of this era!"

"No human being is currently walking around with skin the colour of a rock, Garak." Julian snapped.

"In that case, what can I say? I guess it must be my ravishing charm."

Julian bit his tongue. "Well, you didn't have to send him into town! They'll probably throw him in the nearest hospital!"

"But I assumed that would be a good thing for him? After all, he did seem to be quite inebriated with something."

"Hospitals of this era, Garak, were not as understanding with drug users as we are," Julian carefully sat up, wincing at the pain where the man's knees had dug into him. "And congratulations on sending him to the bloody police station. They're not gonna treat him for the side effects of the drug! He'll almost certainly end up in a mental institution or prison for being found under its influence. He'll never get the help he needs to overcome an addiction."

Garak smirked. "You never fail to amaze me, doctor, with the amount of compassion you possess, even for a holographic human."

Julian sighed. "I guess I keep forgetting none of this is real," He turned to face Garak. "But you try being assaulted three times in within twenty-four hours and you'll start questioning a few things."

"If I were you, I'd be questioning when the last time I attended a gymnasium."

"Pardon?!"

"You should have easily overpowered that last man, doctor. After all, you are a super-powered alien."

Julian scowled. "…Piss off."

The tailor chuckled as Julian sulkily retreated to the farthest corner of the room to nap, massaging his jaw as he walked. "Perhaps I shall find us some water to refresh ourselves with?"

Julian waved a hand dismissively. "Go find that damn weapon while you're at it. I know a particular alien I'd like to test it on."

He tuned out Garak's footsteps as he leant against the wall of the cottage, clicking his jaw. None of what he'd seen so far seemed to make sense. What has any of this got to do with being a hero? So far I've just been thrown around like a sack of potatoes.

Being thrown into the midst of a world war was one thing, but being attacked by hysterical drug addicts was another.

Regardless of what the larger picture was intended to be, Julian decided he'd learnt one thing. Note to self: never walk into an abandoned building again.

Chapter Text

I’d give anything to have something come out of that bucket.

Julian gazed longingly at the empty bucket. Half an hour ago it was full to the brim with water that Garak had discovered in a nearby river. They’d even constructed an amateur campfire to boil it, at Julian’s insistence. "Hologram or not,” He’d said, “I’m going to take any chance of catching some sort of bug.”

Garak had stifled a laugh at the doctor’s pun.
Julian had then promptly thrown a spare twig at him.

Julian had also stared at the bucket, praying that he would see Odo ooze his way out, telling him of some miraculous plan to rescue them. He’d come to accept that there was obviously something preventing them from being transported out, but it didn’t make him feel any happier.

They had taken turns dozing throughout the day, despite Garak’s protests that he did not require as much rest. The windows were closed after Garak continued to make comments about the uncomfortable sensation the breeze made across his scales, though this did nothing to appease his discomfort. He’d curled up in the opposite corner to Julian, tucked away in a manner similar to a dozing kitten.

In any other circumstance, Julian would’ve laughed at the sight of his friend, who was currently resembling a sleeping lizard.

Sighing, Julian gazed out the window. The sun had slowly disappeared below the windowsill, the last rays of light casting a shadow over his features. He was pondering whether to wake Garak when the tailor stirred, apparently having jerked himself awake.

Garak blindly threw a hand against the wall, using it to position himself upright. He wiped the remains of sleep from his eyes.

“Enjoy your cat nap?” Julian smirked.

“I must admit, it was refreshing,” Garak straightened his jacket. “Though I must say, doctor, that you are sorely lacking in hospitable sleeping environments.”

Snorting, Julian rose to his feet. “In that case, may I suggest we continue on? Perhaps the enemy caves have comfier rocks to sleep on.”

“I wouldn’t object to a warm rock to doze upon.”

“Caves on Earth are generally cold, Garak.”

“Again, you are lacking in hospitable environments,” Garak stood and strode his way to the door. He recoiled at the sudden temperature drop as he stepped outside. “Are you sure it’s wise to head outside in such temperatures? Perhaps we should wait-“

“Garak,” Julian said harshly. “Would you rather go out in the cold, under cover of darkness and therefore be safe, or stroll out in broad daylight and be chased by every human in that village? If we want to get anything done, it has to be now. And frankly, I’m not hanging around in this program a damn second longer than I have to.”

Garak smiled. “You know, doctor, you are extremely skilled in the art of being irritating.”

Julian opened the door. “After you, Garak.”

The duo stepped out into the twilight, making their way through the forest until they reached the outskirts of the village. They perched themselves in a large section of shrubbery, watching the final stragglers make their way into their homes for the night. Some were fathers, finishing at their jobs for the day; some were drunks staggering home from the pub. None of them cast even a remote glance towards the forest.

Julian hated to admit it, but Quark’s ‘friend’ had certainly gone to a great deal of trouble to program such detail. He couldn’t help but think of the bartender, lying half-dead in a bloody puddle because of him. I hope I get the chance to actually request a program from him again.

As the sun disappeared, the temperature took a dramatic dive. Julian soon found himself warming his hands with his breath. Garak unsuccessfully attempted to stop his shivering, ultimately deciding to sit curled in a ball next to Julian.

They’d been sitting in the bush for close to an hour when a group of men gradually emerged from an alleyway, congregating underneath the flickering lamp post. All were dressed in a similar manner to Julian’s mugger, most with well-worn jackets protecting them from the crisp air. They quickly began engaging in a hushed conversation.

“Garak!” Julian hissed quietly. “See if you can spot anyone we know.”

Garak nodded, clenching his jaw as he delicately hoisted himself into a kneeling position. He had only glanced at the group for a moment before he shook his head.

Funny; Garak normally loves to commentate when he’s observing others. Julian frowned to himself. Must be the cold.

Before he could probe Garak further, the group of men quickly dispersed into the night. Two remained at the lamp post, seemingly on the lookout; one kept his hands firmly in his pockets and leant against the alleyway wall, the other taking a seat on the ground.

Julian instantly began pondering. It was possible that this was a trap, and that the men were specifically targeting him and Garak. It was also a possibility that this was the next part of the program, with another ‘heroic’ situation soon to follow.

Julian went to ask Garak his opinion when the tailor lifted a silencing finger, pointing to the two men. Both had disappeared; Julian automatically assumed that they had begun their pursuit, but he noticed the tip of one man’s hat poking from the darkness of the alleyway.

Before either man could ponder the absurdity of this situation, they both observed a young woman seemingly appearing from nowhere. The uneven surface of the street meant that the woman’s hurried jog ended with a sudden fall. The woman lay for a moment, clearly stunned by the impact. It meant she couldn’t recover fast enough to avoid falling into the grasp of the two men, who had emerged from the alleyway to snare their pray.

Julian watched in horror as the woman was aggressively thrown against the wall of the alleyway multiple times. It wasn’t until the fourth time her skull collided with the brick wall that she was knocked unconscious. One of the men began to snigger as the second heaved the woman over and surveyed her unconscious body. To Garak and Julian’s horror, he grinned and began unbuttoning his pants.

Julian’s mouth fell open when he finally got a glimpse of the victim’s face. “Oh my God.”

“Do you know her?” Garak hissed.

Julian couldn’t tear his eyes away. Dressed in dark twentieth-century clothing with a period-appropriate hairstyle, he almost hadn’t realised who it was. And now here she was, unconscious and about to become a rape victim.

Garak gently touched Julian’s shoulder. “Doctor?”

Julian swallowed nervously. “Did I ever tell you about a girl named Palis?”

Chapter Text

Nine

How the hell did she get into this program? Is it even her?

“I don’t recall her ever appearing in our lunchtime discussions,” Garak admitted. 

“We were engaged while I was still at the academy,” Julian whispered hurriedly. “I’ll explain later, but right now-“

“I know you want to rush down there and save her, but think about this, doctor,” Garak put a hand on Julian’s shoulder. “For all we know, this could be—“

“Garak!” Julian recoiled. He glared at Garak, a determined glint in his eyes. “I don’t give a damn if that’s the real Palis or not; I’m not just going to sit here and watch a woman I once loved be assaulted in such a manner!”

Garak went to tighten his grip, but the young doctor was quicker. Before the tailor could react, Julian had already begun racing towards the village. Eyes firmly glued to Palis’s lifeless form, he thrashed aside the branches blocking his path, the loud cracks of subsequent branch snaps inaudible through the blood roaring in his ears. I swear, if this is the real Palis, these bastards will pay…

The man currently atop Palis was grinning as his pants and undergarments fell to his knees, dignity only protected by the hem of his wrinkled shirt. He pulled passionately at her skirt, as if eager to devour her honour. The second man knelt at Palis’s side, running his hand lustfully along the buttons of her blouse.

Julian let out a growl of anger as he charged at the men, throwing his full weight directly at the main assailant. The man grunted as he was flung flat onto the pavement, Julian’s torso pinning him down. Julian took the opportunity to throw multiple punches to the man’s face, his nose quickly becoming a bloody pulp.

A sudden strike from the second man knocked Julian to the ground, his breath escaping from him. Julian was quickly overwhelmed by a rapid succession of kicks to the stomach, each strike seemingly connecting with a different rib. Bile rose into his throat; he retched as the following strike connected with his stomach.

The first man managed to regain his footing, hurriedly pulling up his pants. He grimaced as he delicately wiped his nose on the sleeve of his shirt. “Get this piece of shit up.”

Julian gasped, coughing violently as he rolled to the side. The second man tucked his hands under Julian’s armpits and hoisted him off the ground, fingers digging into his flesh.

Spitting in front of Julian, the main assailant glared at him intently. “You bastard…”

A blow to the groin left the young doctor gasping for air, nausea bubbling in his throat. He instinctively tried to cover the affected area, momentarily forgetting that his arms were being tightly restrained. God almighty, that hurts…

A second thought occurred to him. Why hasn’t Garak helped me yet? He tried to turn his head to look over at where he and Garak had been hiding, only for the main assailant to grab his chin and force their eyes to meet. 

“Listen,” Julian gasped, “I don’t w-want any trouble…just let her go-“

“And ruin our fun? Not a chance, you git,” The main assailant sneered. “I intend to have my way with that gorgeous little lady, whether she’s yours or not.”

Another blow to his stomach caused Julian to involuntarily retch, the little water he had consumed earlier in the day making a reappearance onto his shoes. His throat burned painfully and his eyes watered. 

Julian suddenly found himself falling to the ground, having apparently been released. He wiped his mouth on his hand and looked up to find that everything had seemingly happened at once. The assailant who had been restraining him was now unconscious, sprawled out on the ground with blood trickling from a clearly-broken nose. 

What made Julian’s eyes widen was the sight of Garak, who currently had the main assailant’s neck in his hands. His teeth were bared as he squeezed into the man’s flesh with pure rage, a slight growl accompanying the victim’s gargles as his eyes bulged. 

The sight of the dying man was frightening enough, but what made Julian really disgusted was that Garak seemed to be enjoying his act of attempted murder. The malice in his expression was becoming more obvious by the second, serving as a grim reminder that Julian really didn’t know much about Garak before his exile. I hope he didn’t do this regularly.

The assailant’s face was turning grey, his eyes beginning to flutter. 

“Garak!” Julian gasped. “Stop it! Let him go!”

Garak either ignored him or didn’t hear his pleas. If anything, he began to squeeze harder, his knuckles turning white with effort. 

Julian’s face paled as he attempted to hoist himself up. His arms quivered under his weight; he heaved for breath, despite his best efforts to regain control of his breathing. “Garak!!”

Neither doctor nor Cardassian noticed the second pair of men approach. One crept towards Julian from behind, silently pouring a bottle of liquid over a ragged handkerchief; the other brandished a well-worn revolver, swiftly raising it from the interior of his coat.

A loud shot rang out in the darkness, though Julian wasn’t sure where it had come from. He jumped as he registered a body dropping in his peripheral vision, the strangled, wet gasp confirming that it was the assailant. He weakly gazed up at Garak, opening his mouth to chide the tailor, only for his jaw to drop.

The river of life flowed from Garak’s chest, his crisp white shirt steadily growing darker. His eyes fluttered closed as he dropped. 

Garak!! 

Julian let out an inhumane roar of anguish. Tears sprang from his eyes as he leapt forward, only to be restrained by unseen hands. A damp, foul-smelling cloth was pressed to his mouth; he nearly choked on the fumes.

He allowed the last of the light to be consumed, the darkness overwhelming him in seconds.

*******

Now, I have the worst headache. Bloody hell…

He gradually opened his eyes. His head was spinning so badly he perceived the outrageous notion that it could fly off into orbit. His mouth felt like cotton, and he fought to control the rising nausea. This is why chloroform should be illegal.

It took him some time before he felt it safe to raise his head. All he had been able to gather so far was that he was seated on a chair, which wasn’t much to go on.

Julian instinctively went to stretch this shoulders, only for them to remain fixed in place. At first he thought he was inside a restraining field, but then it came back to him; this was twentieth-century Earth, and therefore such technology wasn’t available. He confirmed his own theory by looking down to find ropes wrapped around his chest.

He should’ve realised by looking at his legs that his arms were also restrained in a similar manner, yet he still tugged in the vain hopes of being proven incorrect. He noticed an uncomfortable pressure in and around his mouth. He tried moving his tongue, but found it restricted by an awful-tasting object. Ball of cloth, perhaps? An attempt to lick his lips confirmed his worst fear - he had been bound and gagged. O’Brien would give up all his latinum to see me like this.

Being restrained was of no concern to Julian. He’d been tied up, strapped down and chained in plenty of his spy programs. The one detail always left in those programs, however, was his ability to talk his way out of trouble. Now that ability was gone, and it frightened Julian immensely.

He spent a few moments brooding on his new captivity before he decided to observe his surroundings. It looked he had been tucked in the corner of some sort of cave, with smoky grey rock lining the floor and ceiling. A number of stalagmites hung nearby, some of which had water dripping down them, the sound echoing throughout the chamber. Although he couldn’t be certain from his position, there are appeared to be multiple passages and corridors that branched off from his corner.

Should I try attracting attention to myself? Julian crinkled his eyebrows, staring at the bonds around his legs. There’s no guarantee Garak made it away, or even that anyone is around. Hell, Garak’s probably got no idea where I am.

Wait.

Garak.

He’s dead.

Oh, dear Garak…

Alone, cold and afraid, Julian hung his head and began to cry.

The invitation had seemed genuine enough, but he should've known better.

Chapter Text

Ten

God, this place is freezing.

He attempted to thrust himself forward, but the movement brought on a sudden wave of nausea, and he fought desperately to fight the urge to vomit. Damn chloroform. I am not choking to death on my own sick; that is a pathetic way to go.

He sat silently for a long time, attempting to fight the rising anxiety. It had taken some time for him to remember everything that had happened before he woke up in his current predicament, but the main thing that stood out was the amount of blood that had poured out of Garak’s chest.

Even a man like Garak couldn’t survive a haemorrhage of that magnitude.

Unashamed, Julian allowed his tears to flow for quite some time. This is all my fault. If I hadn’t got drunk at Quark’s, maybe he’d still be alive.

He attempted to ignore the other voice rising in his head. It is technically Garak’s fault, though. He agreed to come with you. Otherwise you’d be tied up here on your own.

But I am on my own! Garak’s dead! Julian scrunched his eyes shut in a futile attempt to slow a fresh wave of tears. 

Your father would be so ashamed of you, Julian. Look at you: you’re supposed to be an officer, and yet here you are, blobbing your eyes out as if you’re just finished watching the latest Betazoid soap opera!

Julian growled at the voice in his head. I thought I was managing quite well until this point. He fought against the restraints once more, straining his arms as far as they would move.

What’s supposed to happen next in this program? Are they gonna let me starve to death down here? Is this the end of the program? Is Sisko or Odo meant to come rescue me? A million possibilities raced through his mind. I don’t see how I’m supposed to be a hero-

“Mister Bashir.”

Julian startled out of his thoughts. That voice! Alarm bells began ringing in his head. It can’t be!

He tore his eyes away from the floor, only for them to nearly bulge out of his head in shock. Completely unharmed, with a repaired suit and no visible bleeding, Garak walked towards him proudly, a look of triumph across his face.

Am I hallucinating? “Mmpk!” Julian attempted to shout through the gag. But…I mean… he’s dead! He’s dead! I watched him die!

His first thought was that it was a shape shifter of some description, or another holographic illusion. It was a few seconds before the image of Garak flickered, disappearing to reveal the black-cladded humanoid walking directly behind him. 

Julian raised his gaze, narrowing his eyes in frustration as a fresh wave of grief overcame him. You have a lot of nerve to do this, disrespecting a dead man’s image in such a manner.

The humanoid pulled off its gloves, revealing pale white skinned hands with long, slender fingers. They clutched the leather accessories firmly, enough for Julian to observe that they possessed a small tremor. “I do hope you are feeling alright, Mister Bashir. Chloroform is never the favourite choice of kidnappers, but it certainly does the job.”

Julian refused to react, instead continuing to glare at his captor. And how would you know that? Do you have experience in this area?

“Oh, doctor, I am not responsible for your kidnapping. The men responsible are actually well above us, enjoying a well-deserved glass of champagne,” The humanoid slowly pointed to the ceiling of the cave. “I’m simply just the author of this little program. Though, I must admit, impressions are also a hobby of mine.”

Bashir narrowed his eyes. Perhaps you should expand your impressionist skills to portray someone who is not a complete sociopath.

“But I digress. We have much to discuss,” The figure’s hands moved towards its face, fumbling to remove the covering. “Perhaps I had better reveal myself to make things a lot easier to explain.”

If it hadn’t been restrained, Julian’s jaw would have fallen open. Of all the people in the galaxy, I can’t believe it’s him.

He had certainly aged since Julian last saw him, albeit not gracefully. The doctor had been middle-aged when they first met, but it seemed another twenty years had been added on top. Little remained of his luscious grey hair; what was left was carefully combed into a quiff. 

He hated how he had once pictured this man as his father-in-law. 

“Hello again, Julian. Disappointed you and Palis never got to organise the wedding.”

Chapter Text

Eleven

Well that was certainly a plot twist.

"I can imagine you're surprised, and I don't blame you," Martin Delon smirked, adjusting his collar.

He suddenly thrust himself forward and gripped his captive's shoulders. "The nerve of you, Bashir. You had the balls to propose to my daughter before deciding to disappear to the other side of the bloody quadrant!" He struck Julian's nose in a violent, rhythmic fashion. Blood began to spurt freely after the third punch; he blinked furiously to avoid it being flung into his eyes.

Martin sneered. "Did it occur to you for the slightest moment the impact it would have on her?! She had been looking at wedding dresses with her mother, for God's sake! She was ready to drop everything to marry you, you selfish twat!"

Julian's eyes watered. He wasn't sure what hurt more; being subjected to punches from a surgeon's hands, or hearing how his decision had impacted Palis. Wedding dresses…? His brain was fuzzy. We were only engaged for a couple of months, weren't we?

Eyes blazing with fury, Martin snatched Julian by the chin, forcing his head upwards; his nails dug tightly enough into the officer's skin to leave marks. "I offered you the chance of a lifetime. Head of surgery within half a decade, and you threw it away for some godforsaken post in the middle of nowhere!"

Julian narrowed his eyes in defence. I happen to be the CMO on Deep Space Nine, thank you. Much better than some chief of surgery in a random hospital.

Martin leant into Julian's ear, whispering aggressively. "And don't think I didn't notice your little…'gift'."

The world seemed to stop.

Julian's blood instantly froze.

How could he…? I never told Palis!

"Why do you think I offered you that position, hmm? Just because you were dating my daughter?" Martin sneered. "Don't think I didn't miss how you were faster than the other students. How you turned your assignments in earlier. How you graduated first in paediatric medicine, of all things! Most students would struggle, but not you, Bashir. You were special. And there was no way that was natural."

Julian couldn't help himself. He began to hyperventilate through the gag, his chest spasming as he fought for breath. He's not going to kill me; he's going to destroy me.

"As soon as you abandoned Palis, I took the liberty of keeping tabs on you. I watched you graduate. I watched you become salutatorian. And I was right," Martin snarled as he released his grip. "Chief Medical Officer of a bloody space station; not every graduate gets such a distinguishing position, but with you I wasn't surprised. Had you stayed on Earth, I knew you would've become the head of surgery within two years!"

Martin stood back from Julian, removing a matchbox-sized pouch from his pocket. He produced a scalpel from the pouch, gently tilting it so the blade reflected light into the younger man's eyes.

Julian couldn't help but flinch. He knew he had seen this pouch somewhere before, but his brain wouldn't cooperate and retrieve the appropriate memory.

"This belonged to my father," Martin lowered his voice as he twirled the scalpel delicately between his fingers, the blade never touching his skin as it danced in his hand. "I had intended to pass it on to you once you'd become my son-in-law. Of course, I've never used it on a real patient. I never had to. After all, that's why we have laser scalpels these days. The poor bastard under the knife never has to lose a drop."

Martin's grin shone as he traced the scalpel down the right side of Julian's chin, a small trickle of blood escaping from beneath the younger man's skin. The sting made Julian's eyes water, and his body trembled harder as the blade continued downwards towards his throat. No, no, no, no-

As if the man had heard his thoughts, Martin removed the blade as he reached the sternal notch. He made a 'tsk' sound and stared at his handiwork, tucking the hand clutching the scalpel under his chin. "Oh dear, now that's a shame. If only I'd happened to have a laser scalpel on me. I guess now I'll have to continue the procedure without it."

Julian felt his body quiver uncontrollably as the scalpel drew closer. His resolve evaporated as Martin continued his artwork, painting intricate lines of blood across Julian's face. Some followed a straight path, others were ornate in their shape and length. Most were superficial and only provided a sharp sting, but Julian couldn't prevent his muffled cries of pain as some incisions reached the dermal layer of his skin.

"You may have found this program to be somewhat…disjointed? Like it seemed to jump from one point to another? I assure you, it was most intentional," Martin smirked, his eyes focused on Julian's skin. "It was another point I wished to make. The life of a hero is often chaotic and disjointed. After all, a hero is not a man who deliberately goes out of their way to make painful and heartbreaking sacrifices."

Martin removed the scalpel and stepped behind Julian, kneeling down to where his hands were securely bound. He took a moment to admire his rope work, tracing the complex knots that restrained the officer. He ignored Julian's muffled cries of protest as he roughly grabbed his left thumb and swiftly sliced along the lateral and proximal nail folds, leaving deep gashes that freely wept with blood. He grinned and continued his handiwork, creating a network of gashes across both hands.

Julian's resolve crumbled rapidly, and he allowed himself to weep freely, each violation of his skin causing a fresh wave of hopelessness to overcome him. He had expected to be stabbed or have his throat torn open, not to be subjected to such intense torture.

"The price of being a hero is that you have to make unbearable decisions. There is no such thing as a complete resolution," Martin removed the scalpel, wiping the remaining blood on Julian's hair. "Everyone is affected, whether it be the hero himself, or those who were affected as he 'saved' the day."

Julian involuntarily sagged as the scalpel was finally withdrawn from his tortured skin. He could feel each individual incision, his hands trembling uncontrollably. His fingers ached from the powerful throbbing sensations running along his nerves. I will never complain about paper cuts ever again.

"One of these decisions I now present to you, Mister Bashir," Martin quirked his eyebrows with glee. "Either you attempt to escape and risk widening your lacerations, or remain as you are and continue to bleed regardless. I'm almost certain you'll have scarring-"

Martin fell silent as he realised his captive had succumbed to unconsciousness. He violently slapped Julian across the face, yet the younger man barely stirred. "You make an interesting patient, Doctor, but a terrible hero. At least stay conscious long enough to hear the monologue!"

He grabbed Julian's throat and pressed hard into his open incisions, eliciting a mumbled groan from the officer. Tightening his grip caused Julian to begin thrashing, desperate to free himself from Martin's grip. His eyes were alight with pain and confusion as he struggled.

Martin only smirked as he reproduced the scalpel. "I guess my lessons will need some reinforcing."

Chapter Text

Twelve

I cannot wait to have a shower.

Julian gazed down, ignoring the trickle of blood that made its way along his brow. It dripped into his lap, quickly disappearing into the black fabric of his suit. He could no longer tell which patches of blood were his, and which ones had once belonged to Garak.

How many days had it been? Had it even been days since he was first brought here? He was quickly losing track. But that was to be expected when he kept being beaten into unconsciousness.

His hands never stopped aching. Although he couldn’t see the damage Martin had inflicted, every movement reminded him of the thousands of cuts that now littered his skin. Every assault on his body caused him to inadvertently clench his hands, exacerbating the incisions that decorated the appendages. In a way, he was glad that he couldn’t talk, as the skin around and under his chin throbbed every time he attempted to move his mouth. The lack of chattering meant these wounds had had some chance to heal; a few had reopened, despite his forced silence, mostly in part to his attempting to scream during one of Martin’s “sessions”. 

Starfleet Academy had had a mandatory course on hostage situations. In a controlled holodeck environment, students were subjected to a variety of potential scenarios and outcomes, most of which were no more serious than being locked behind a force field. Julian remembered one or two assessments that involved escaping handcuffs, though despite his genetic enhancements, he could never get his fingers to work fast enough to allow him to escape within the allotted time frame. Any injuries sustained during the simulations were little more than grazes and cuts, apart from the occasional sore wrists from prolonged time in restraints. 

Nothing in that course, he had decided, was relevant to his current situation.

Although psychology wasn’t his field of specialty, Julian had quickly decided Martin fell into either the psychopathy or sociopathy category. The way he twisted words and phrases to berate him rivalled Garak’s abilities; it was almost poetic how he could taunt and insult someone. When Martin grew tired of talking, which usually only took a few minutes, the beatings usually began. Sometimes he would reopen lacerations that had begun to heal only hours before, slicing through the newly-regenerated scar tissue and allowing Julian’s blood to freely escape his tortured body. Other times he would resort to pure violence; Martin’s fists would pound the doctor’s body relentlessly, his knuckles quickly leaving noticeable damage.

It wasn’t long before Julian experienced his first broken rib. 

It was even quicker when Julian experienced his first time having broken ribs.

Periods of consciousness came sporadically. He was sure by now that he had a concussion; most of his efforts were focused on trying not to vomit, as if the thought of choking to death in Quark’s holosuite wasn’t reason enough to stay alive. Hopefully there’s no permanent damage after this; I think my brain still works.

The rag inside his mouth brushed against the top of his throat; Julian inadvertently went to cough, groaning as he felt yet another laceration burst under the pressure. I really hope the dermal regenerator can fix all of this. He unconsciously went to flex his fingers, wincing as he felt the cuts along the crevices in his hands bleed anew. Where the hell is Odo? Surely him and Miles would’ve found a way to break in here by now-

“Doctor?”

It was a distant call in an unsteady voice, but Julian heard it nonetheless. His heart instantly rose. Thank the stars! Someone is looking for me! He refused to consider the possibility that he was mistaking it for someone else. It couldn’t be anyone else. It has to be…oh, please, please be him.

He instantly raised his head from his chest, looking out into the gloominess of the cave. “Mhmm!” Oh please, please be him…

“Doctor?” Garak’s voice sounded slightly louder, but it still wasn’t clear how far away he was.

Curse that Cardassian hearing of his. Julian realised he had to attempt to grunt louder, even though his throat was already raw. At this rate I won’t be able to talk, even after I’m rescued. “Mmphk!”

A short pause followed. “…Doctor? Are you there?”

Julian rolled his eyes. This is going to take forever. “Mhmmhmhm! Mmphk!”

The silence that followed seemed like an eternity. He started to see a glimpse of Garak’s shadow on the wall of a nearby passage. 

“Doctor?”

Julian slumped back in his chair, a wave of rage pouring over him. Oh, come on Garak! Use that damn brain of yours. “Mhmmhm!”

Garak’s footsteps stopped abruptly. “Julian?”

“Mmphk!”

“Doctor!” Garak instantly picked up his pace. Within a matter of seconds he had rounded the corner, but quickly proceeded to head down the wrong passageway.

Julian instantly began to panic as he watched his rescuer walk away. No, no, I’m here! I’m here!! Don’t leave me!! Garak!!

“Doctor?”

“Mmphk! Mmm!” Garak!! Wrong way!

Fortunately he seemed to have re-attracted Garak’s attention. The Cardassian walked back along the corridor, his head instantly turning in Julian’s direction. His expression softened upon seeing the struggling young man. “Doctor! Thank goodness…”

Julian sagged in his bonds. The relief of rescue had quickly begun to settle in; he could feel his emotional defences wearing thin, tears threatening to leak out of his eyes. Oh my… Garak…I can’t believe you’re alive. How are you alive?!

Garak quickened his pace, crossing the distance between him and Julian in a matter of seconds. He descended to his knees to meet Julian’s eye level. The relief and concern in his eyes was evident, though Julian still noticed a trickle of blood along the side of his face. His left cheek was badly grazed, and a faint bruise was appearing over his forehead ridge. “Doctor, are you alright?”

Julian nodded feverishly. It took him a moment to realise he was crying. The tears on his face were quickly washing away the blood from Martin’s most recent assault, with murky red streams running down his cheeks and soaking into the bandages.

Garak used a section of his sleeve to brush the tear-stained blood aside, being careful to avoid the lacerations across his face. The older man became increasingly concerned as he eyed the intricate lacework pattern of these cuts. “How much did they hurt you?”

Julian allowed his head to sag as sobs wracked his shivering frame. Garak, you have no idea. “Mmhmhm.” He made a point of struggling in his bonds, wincing at the pain it caused him to do so. Take these off me already!

It would seem Garak understood his friend’s distress, for he made no snide remarks about Julian’s lack of conversation. “Allow me, doctor.”

The bandages were peeled away slowly, despite trying to tell Garak not to be careful with them. A long moan of discomfort escaped Julian’s mouth as the last of the bandages were peeled away. His first instinct was to open his mouth, attempting to expel the cloth within. It took Garak a moment to understand before he reached in and removed the remaining part of the gag.

Julian gasped. His throat was painfully dry, all the saliva having been soaked by the cloth. Air that passed through his lips caused pain. He couldn’t help but hiss through his teeth as his stiff jaw clicked, the sudden intake of air across the enamel sending a cold rush along his nerves. He felt the remaining skin on his lips crack as he desperately tried to speak, but nothing came out. I knew it.

“A moment, doctor,” Garak reached into his jacket, his hand emerging with a flask. He unscrewed the lid and gently lifted it to Julian’s lips. “I happened to ‘acquire’ this while escaping my captors. There’s not much left, but it should be enough to restore your voice.”

Julian didn’t hear him; Garak could’ve been giving him Romulan ale, for all he cared. He gulped greedily, with water spilling on his clothes as he attempted to inhale it. It was only with Garak’s intervention that he stopped drinking. The young man looked longingly at the flask, desperate to quench his thirst.

“Patience, doctor. We don’t want you making yourself ill,” Garak said kindly. He glanced over his shoulder. “We should hurry. They’ll be aware of my escape at any moment.”

“…They told me you were dead,” Julian’s voice was so soft that he wasn’t sure if Garak had heard him at first, but the tailor had abruptly stopped. A sympathetic look from his rescuer encouraged him to persevere with his weak voice. “..They s-shot you in front of m-me…I-I have your blood…on my clothes-“

Garak gently placed a hand on Julian’s shoulder. “It was a holographic version of me. I assure you, doctor, I am quite unharmed. They had me restrained in another room until I was able to escape.”

“H-how’d you know…I was here?” Julian croaked. “I’ve b-been…here nearly three days…I think…” Garak had set about untying his hands, and the feeling of blood returning to his fingers was invigorating, but also agonising as fresh waves of pain returned to his damaged nerves. 

“It seemed to be almost a part of the program, but I happened to have overheard some of our abductors discussing how to proceed with…” Garak’s voice faltered. “…with disposing of you. I believe I’ve spent a number of hours exploring these caves, hoping you would be in one of them.”

Julian instantly began to panic. “W-we have to get out-“

“Trust me, doctor, we will soon be on our way,” Garak discarded the rope around Julian’s wrists. He was glad the doctor couldn’t see his pained look as he examined the raw, weeping rope burns that wrapped around each wrist. Julian’s captor hadn’t even bothered to wrap the restraints over the top of his jacket. The skin around both wounds felt warm to touch; Garak wasn’t sure if it was a normal human temperature, or if Julian would soon be developing a fever.

The tailor’s eyes were once again drawn to the intricate cuts that decorated almost every part of Julian’s hands; each was only a few centimetres long, but were strategically placed along every crease and crevice. Some were superficial, others ran deep into the layers of human skin that Garak couldn’t pronounce. He quickly concluded that some of Julian’s nerves had been damaged, assuming that human and Cardassian ligaments were the same colour, and assuming that the anatomy he was currently examining correctly matched with his limited knowledge of humans.

Much to Garak’s disgust, he realised this that man would have been a useful asset to the Obsidian Order, had he been a Cardassian. 

Despite having tortured hundreds of people during his time in the Order, Garak had never seen the aftermath of torturing a human before, and it made him nauseous. Whoever had committed such an act was clearly skilled in the art of causing pain. In this instance, putting more emphasis on the “art” component. “I don’t suppose you could enlighten me as to who it was who inflicted such violence on you?”

Julian’s breath hitched. “…Remember that girl? P-Palis?” His voice faltered and he coughed, attempting to find the moisture needed to get his damn vocal cords to work. “…Her f-father-”

His voice quickly disappeared, leading Garak to provide him with another sip of the water flask, but the tailor was quick to work out Julian’s words. “I’m assuming he has returned to extract revenge on you in some degree, yes?”

Not trusting his voice, Juilan nodded. He felt his shoulders relax as Garak finished releasing his hands, letting out a strangled gasp of relief as he half-pulled, half-dragged his arms in front of him. His hands trembled violently as he attempted to inspect the damage done to them, though he could hardly lift them with completely numb biceps; he remained in that position for some time, impatiently awaiting the revival of his tendons. “…Where is Odo?”

“I am unsure as to the whereabouts of the good constable, doctor,” Garak began working on the bonds around Julian’s legs. “Though I suspect there must be something preventing his entering the program and performing a dashing rescue.”

“..Would’ve appreciated one…yesterday…”

Garak smirked. “I believe dashing rescues are mostly Starfleet’s forté, wouldn’t you say?”

“..How do we get out of here then?” Julian painfully rotated his shoulders forward, attempting to distract himself from the rising pins and needles. The appearance of sharp spasms in his shoulder blades told him that he had either strained or torn both trapezius muscles. He grimaced as they twinged painfully. Hopefully I won’t be needing to climb any ladders anytime soon…

“I have two suspicions, doctor. The first being that we simply use violence and my cunning wit to outsmart our captors, and use whatever knowledge your Starfleet engineering courses gave you to release the lock on the holosuite.”

“You clearly…have high expectations of me,” Julian rasped, hoping his sarcasm was carried across. “And the second?”

“We have to ‘play along’, as it were,” Garak threw aside the ropes around Julian’s knees, setting to work on his ankles. “The mastermind of this program has clearly written it to play out as a typical ‘capture and rescue’ scenario. I suspect we will soon be having a confrontation with the creator soon.”

Julian couldn’t suppress a shudder. He quickly began hoping that Garak was wrong, and they could slip out of the program without Michael ever finding them. If my current streak of luck is anything to go by, it won’t be an easy escape.

Chapter Text

Thirteen

Julian gasped as his feet were finally freed, the sudden rush of blood to his toes provoking yet another wave of pain. He winced as he felt the pins and needles quickly settle in, gently flexing his feet to assist with the blood flow. “I hope…he’s a fair fighter…”

Garak rose from the floor and placed a supportive arm around Julian’s shoulders. “I believe the appropriate human response would be to ask if you would like a hand, but I fear that may be counterintuitive at this time.”

The younger man chose to ignore the wisecrack from Garak as he focused his energy into forcing himself to move. After an agonising length of time being bound to the chair, he found it ironic that the thought of standing up was giving him negative emotions. It means I have to feel more pain and I’m sick of it.

It took Julian at least three minutes to muster up the courage to even attempt to rise. The effort of standing after three days, however, was enough to knock the wind out of him; he gasped as he felt his quad muscles scream and strain in protest, nearly collapsing onto the tailor once he bore weight on both legs. Garak grasped his shoulders tightly as he struggled for breath, the protests of his limbs making themselves loud and clear.

“I don’t think you are in the best shape to be escaping, doctor,” Garak commented, tucking one of Julian’s arms around his own shoulders. 

As if that wasn’t already obvious. “…Well, what…choice do I have?” Julian was horrified to find his snap came out as more of a squeak, but chose not to address it. His mind turned to more pressing matters. “..How did you…get in?”

“Allow me to lead the way, doctor,” Garak smiled, sliding his other arm around Julian’s waist to steady him.

Both men began the long, arduous journey out of the caves. For Julian, if there was a word to describe longer than eternity, it would’ve been a perfect fit; his knees felt indescribably stiff as he tried to walk, and each step sent ripples of stinging pain flying up his legs. 

Garak retained incredible patience, for he did not try to rush the doctor in any regard. He simply remained at his side, guiding the injured man through the dim lighting. Whenever the younger man stumbled, the tailor had a supportive arm at the ready. There were no comments about the fragility of the human species, no discussion about Martin’s interrogation techniques; the two men simply limped silently towards freedom.

They’d made it to the mouth of the caves when Julian began to notice how abruptly the scenery ahead changed. The graphics that served as the surrounding walls and floor were seemingly projected as normal until one observed the archways that served as the exit, which were flickering in and out of existence, the world beyond seemingly nothing but a black void. He squinted in the vain attempt of visualising what lay ahead.

“Is there anything out there?” Julian rasped, unhooking his arm from Gary’s shoulder as he slowly sank to the ground.

“Indeed there is, even though the appearance is deceiving,” Garak commented. “It looks as though one is about to step into an empty space, it is merely an illusion. The designer of this program obviously intended for this to be the final confrontation place, and therefore created this to ensure we would be deterred into not progressing any further.”

“But how do you know there is something out there?”

“Because that’s the way I snuck in, my dear doctor,” Garak grinned. “Beyond that archway is a singular cell and a large, open space where all of the programmed henchmen were sitting.”

“Did this mystical designer also program the glitching graphics?” Julian lifted a shaky arm to point at the section in question. “Pretty sure even I could do a better job at programming.”

“I am choosing to believe the disruption in the visuals is the result of Chief O’Brien, though I cannot confirm this for certain.”

Garak began swivelling his head around, seemingly intent on finding something. “I believe I saw them using a communications panel around here somewhere.”

Having no breath left to argue with, Julian allowed himself to be led across the room, silently marvelling at the detailed textures that lined the walls of the cave that intertwined various shades of grey and charcoal to create a convincing depth effect. I hate to admit it, but Martin is a very good holographic designer.

“Aha! Here we are,” Garak gestured to a shiny panel that slid out of the cave wall, revealing a hidden communications system. “Now, I do have the technical ability to open the comm systems,” Garak’s fingers danced across the screen as he programmed it, “but I believe they will respond best to your voice authorisations.”

Well of course they will, I’m the bloody CMO. Julian sighed tiredly, ignoring the pain in his throat as he swallowed, praying that his voice wouldn’t give out on him. “Computer, transmit emergency communication to security, authorisation Bashir one alpha.”

A tense silence fell as the computer processed their request. “Authorisation code accepted. Please wait.”

“Oh, thank God,” Julian sagged in relief. He felt a fresh spurt of blood drip from his lips, though he quickly decided the effort that he’d need to go through to wipe it away was more than he could handle.

“No time for celebrations yet, doctor,” Garak quipped. “We need to make sure this transmission goes through-“

“Odo to holosuite three, can you hear me?”

The familiar gruff voice of the security chief sent chills down Julian’s spine. Finally!! Help is here! “Odo? Are you there?”

“Doctor Bashir!” Odo sounded almost surprised to hear the young man’s voice. “This is…are you alright? We hadn’t expected to hear from you!”

“I’m…alive,” Julian struggled not only to find the words, but to find the energy to express them. “Garak is here, he…he saved me…”

“Good God, Julian, what the hell happened?” O’Brien’s voice appeared on the commline, pitching with concern. “You sound awful!”

“You try being bound and gagged for three days and see how well your voice sounds afterwards.” Julian growled irritably. He kept unconsciously massaging his throat, futilely trying to avoid the areas Martin had sliced into. He cringed as he felt fresh blood drip onto his palm and into the incisions in his palmar creases. I just want to get out of this godforsaken mess.

“Three days?” Odo reappeared on the comm line. “I believe that unless you’ve suffered a head injury, doctor, you’ll find it’s been less than twelve hours since you walked into the holosuite.”

“Of course!” Garak snapped his fingers, turning excitedly towards Julian. “We must be in some kind of time dilation field. That would explain how for us, the program seems to be running at a normal speed, but for everyone outside of that field, it would seem we were moving much faster.”

Julian blinked, his brain too exhausted to even begin to try and process what scientific babble Garak had just stated to him. “Can you get…can you get us out, Odo?”

“Believe me, doctor, we’ve been trying furiously,” Odo grumbled. “The mastermind responsible has completely re-coded the security protocols for this particular holodeck. Even Rom has been unable to override them-“

“And while you’re makin’ him do that, I’m running the bar on my own!” Quark’s irritated voice appeared on the line. “I-I expect Starfleet to provide adequate compensation for this-“

“Unless you’d like me to arrest you on one of the dozens of charges I can unequivocally prosecute you on, Quark, I suggest you get back to your customers,” Odo spoke tensely, “and allow us to resolve this situation.”

“A resolution that starts with you disconnecting the comm link. Now.”

Oh God. 

Julian’s stomach dropped. 

“Who is that?” Odo asked.

“The mastermind you’ve all been looking for,” Martin smirked. “Now I suggest you gentlemen switch off the communications link and turn around before things start getting messy.”

Chapter Text

Fourteen

Julian couldn't help the wide-eyed expression of terror that fell over his face. He gave Garak a brief glance out of the corner of his eye before slowly shuffling himself around, leaning on the console to support himself, though it did little to ease the strain in his flexor muscles.

The sole act of making eye contact with Martin was enough to make chills run down his spine. He futilely fought his autonomic nervous system as he felt his heart rate rapidly increase, his adrenal glands kicking into overdrive. He felt nauseous when he realised the red stains that decorated Martin's hands was in fact his own blood. Sick bastard…hasn't even bothered to wash it off!…

Martin gave a mock look of surprise, absent-mindedly twirling his phaser in between his fingers. His right eye twitched. "Why, doctor, I must say I am surprised to see you're still alive."

"Tougher than you thought, I presume." Julian's voice was low.

"Indeed you are. Just like the little annoying cockroach I knew you were," A harsh laugh escaped Martin's throat. He stumbled slightly, tightening his grip on the phaser. "Guess it's my job to finish the extermination. Got any last-minute witty comments to throw my way?"

It didn't take a medical degree for Julian to recognise the rapid mental deterioration that Martin was clearly experiencing. He couldn't help the assessments that automatically came to mind. Tachypnoea, dilated pupils, slight incoordination-

No , Julian. 

Focus.

He doesn't deserve your care.

"It's over, Martin. Just let us go," Julian spat, ignoring the spray of blood that flew from his mouth. He could feel his legs beginning to wave a white flag as he tightened his grip on the console. Just a bit longer, Julian, come on…keep it together."…It's only a matter of time before security forces their way in here-"

"NO!" Martin's cry of rage reverberated around the cave, only to be accompanied by his accidental firing of his phaser. To Julian's relief, the blast collided with a nearby console instead of the cavern walls, sending sparks flying into the air as the electronics inside squealed as they burned.

It took Martin a moment to regain what little remained of his composure. "I…I w-will not let them interfere a-anymore than they have! I-I will finish this!"

Oh, for heaven's sake. I'm done with this crap.

"What is there left to finish, Martin?!" Julian raised his voice, his arms shaking as they fought to support him. His knuckles grew whiter the harder he clutched the console. "Huh?! What is there?! You've destroyed my resolve, you've defaced my body with scarring that will no doubt last me for life, and you've spent the last three days ruining my psychological health! I'll admit it! I am broken! Just let us go!"

The longest three seconds of Julian's life flashed in front of his eyes as he waited for Martin's reaction.

Unsurprisingly, he started to laugh. Martin giggled to himself for several seconds, and Julian was expecting him to do so for some time.

But he wasn't expecting him to produce a small vial from his pocket and violently toss it at him. The metallic projectile exploded upon contact with Julian's foot, producing a dark aerosol cloud that covered him and Garak within milliseconds. The gas burnt his lungs as he inadvertently welcomed it into his alveoli; a foul taste began to form at the back of his mouth. He could vaguely make out Garak's coughing amongst his own as their bodies fought to expel the foreign substance. Oh God, what has he done now?…

"Now then, my dear doctor," Martin spat, pacing aggressively as he launched into his monologue, "Let's get to business. This is a specialised chemical weapon that I developed a few years ago. Originally I tried to sell my creation, but no one at the time was interested, so instead it lay forgotten in my lab in Paris. That is, until I realised it would be the perfect way to completely ruin you. I decided to tweak it until I was certain it would kill you."

Julian didn't have to be a genius to know that Martin was referring to his enhanced genetics. Though I do wish he'd skip to the part where I learn how I can stay alive…my lungs really hurt-

"For a normal person, this…'concoction' would make them a bit uncomfortable, maybe even give them a low-grade fever, but they would live. It will kill you. And it will also kill your friend."

Julian allowed his body to collapse on itself, the fatigue and poison quickly overwhelming him. Each breath seemed to take more and more effort to inhale; his chest began to feel tighter with each exhalation. Part of him couldn't help but wonder how Martin had managed to create an aerosol that suppressed the oxygen-carbon dioxide exchange, but most of him decided he should focus on his breathing.

He observed Garak out of the corner of his eye, turning to watch as his friend dropped to the floor, his body spasming as he gurgled in agony. His eyes rolled back into his head, with saliva collecting at the edges of his mouth. "…Garak!…"

Reaching into another of his seemingly-endless pockets, Martin produced a hypospray and another small vial, inserting it into the device with a small click. "Luckily for you, I was kind enough to at least give you a chance to live, so I created an antidote. There is only one dose, and I deliberately destroyed the formula on my personal computer to ensure it remained that way. Your previous injuries ensure that you will die quickly, unless you make your decision now."

With another high-pitched laugh, Martin tossed the hypospray a few metres out of Julian's reach, bouncing off Garak's forehead with a sickening thud.

Julian had realised what Martin was planning before he'd even finished his stereotypical villain rant. Do I sacrifice myself…or do I save Garak?

For him, the answer was obvious.

And I'm not going to give Martin the answer he wants.

With a new resolve, Julian began the slow journey across the floor. It felt like an eternity before he reached the antidote, pulling himself along the ground with his weakening limbs. His airways screamed with each breath, his lungs feeling as though they were crumpling in on themselves.

Panting heavily, his trembling fingers slid around the handle of the hypospray. He could barely force his gaze on the device in his hand, struggling to push himself up onto his hands and knees. Spots of darkness began to appear in his peripheral vision; he knew he was running out of time, for his brain couldn't take the lack of oxygen much longer.

Turning his head to face Martin, Julian gave the man a glare that would have incinerated him, and felt some slight pleasure at the look of horror that quickly crossed the latter's face.

He activated the hypospray as he shoved it against Garak's neck.

Martin's cries of rage barely registered in his ears as he felt himself slam into the ground, his battle for consciousness coming to a rapid end.

Chapter Text

Fifteen

He wasn’t expecting death to be so…short.

Is this it? 

I mean, I don’t know what I was expecting, but this is…underwhelming.

Almost as soon as he collapsed - or so he thought - he found himself becoming aware of multiple stimuli.

Despite his brain feeling like it was trying to swim through gelatine, he managed to determine he was lying on a rather uncomfortable surface, which seemed to have multiple appendages that continually poked into his body.

He thought he could hear voices at one point. But they didn’t sound like what he’d expected to hear in the afterlife; he was sure they didn’t discuss how many CCs of adrenaline one had administered during their lifetime.

In addition, everything seemed to hurt.

Julian wasn’t aware that it was possible for a human body to experience this much pain at once. Am I even in a body?

He could feel himself teetering on the brink of consciousness, but his strength seemed to fail him, and he fell once more into the abyss, waiting for death to finally arrive.

********

“…lian?”

Ah. Finally the voices of the afterlife have come to greet me.

“..ulian?”

“…brain..”

“..ve more time…”

********

Everything hurt.

Yep. I’m definitely still in my body.

Every vessel in his body felt as though it was on fire, corrosive acid being pumped into every single vessel.

He wasn’t sure if it was his voice that was screaming, but the others that he’d been hearing had suddenly gone silent.

Is this meant to be a test or something?

He thought he saw a light.

Let me go…

********

“...Julian?”

The voices are back!

Not sure if that’s a good thing though.

“I think he’s nearly there…”

But that…that’s not-

It felt as though the fog in his brain had suddenly cleared. Dax!

So I’m not dead after all!…I think?

“…another dose, ten micrograms…”

No! No, don’t send me back under! I just got here…

He heard a faint whoosh, a sigh escaping his lips as he felt no more.

********

This is starting to get irritating.

He gingerly reached out to the rest of his body, and was immediately relieved to find the agony had disappeared. Why does it ache though?

“Lieutenant! He’s waking up!”

Is that Nurse Jabara?…

His desperation for answers was finally powerful enough to overwhelm his fatigue, and he managed to force his uncooperative eyelids open. A strangled gasp caught in his throat as the white light above him came into focus, soothing his concerns as he recognised the ceiling of the med bay. I’m alive…

“Julian?”

He blinked tiredly, his retinas struggling to focus as a brown and blue humanoid came into view. Dax? Dammit, why can’t I see her?!

“It’s alright, Julian. You’re alive,” Dax’s voice was low and soothing in his ears. “You and Garak have been in the med bay for a while.”

Garak! Julian realised he had physically relaxed at hearing those words. He’s alive!…I didn’t kill us both…

He felt Dax’s delicate fingers working their way through his hair, the therapeutic gesture causing his eyes to grow heavy within milliseconds. “You can sleep a bit more, Julian. It’s okay.”

Although he had a thousand questions he desperately wanted answered, Julian found himself being lulled by the blissfulness of unconsciousness, and reluctantly allowed it to take hold once more.

Chapter Text

Sixteen

His eyelid flickered. 

He felt his lip twitch.

Yet nothing else moved, just like the last ten times he’d tried.

Good God, this is becoming annoying. 

Since the initial episode of being able to gain a fuzzy glimpse of his surroundings, his body had remained stubbornly still. It didn’t take him long to determine that he had become completely paralysed, and therefore the only reason he was still alive was that his brainstem had been unaffected by whatever had resulted in his condition.

It was as though the connections between his brain and central nervous system had been disrupted.

Wait.

That’s exactly what’s happened…

My higher order thinking must be returning. That’s a relief, at least.

He realised there was another hand grasping his own, their warm fingers gently caressing his skin. An internal scream of frustration ensured when none of his fingers responded to his motor electrical signals, remaining stationary by his side.

It took him a minute to realise that a sensation he’d grown accustomed to had apparently vanished. It’s not stinging anymore! But the skin there was so damaged…They must have run the dermal regenerator over me at least a hundred times - those cuts were not superficial.

Part of him was grateful that despite his critical condition, his staff had taken the time to ensure his cosmetic injuries were attended to.

The other part was concerned that they apparently hadn’t managed to reverse the effects of Martin’s concoction.

He desperately wanted to flex his metacarpals, his extensor carpi; hell, even if his abductor pollicis brevis would slightly spasm, he’d be satisfied that his condition was not permanent.

“Brainwave activity is increasing, BP climbing to 99/65.”

If he could’ve, he would’ve jumped. That’s the first sound I’ve heard for a while…Jabara?

“Does this mean he is conscious?”

Sisko’s deep voice came as a shock, and it seemed to reverberate around in his sensitive skull. What is the Commander doing here? Oh wait. I’m the head medical officer. That explains his presence.

“He’s not entirely conscious, no. I’d still say he’s in a comatose state. There’s some lingering inflammation to his frontal and occipital lobes, and his intracranial hypertension hasn’t improved by much,” Dax took a shuddering breath. It’ll be a few days before we can determine how likely it is that he’ll wake up.”

“How likely?” Sisko exclaimed. “Dax, yesterday you were telling me he was doing better!”

“That was because he’d finally been stable for a consecutive twenty-four hours, Commander,” Dax’s voice was strained. “I didn’t think he’d get to that point at all, given how slow we were to dissolve the clot. Plus, his brain is under such immense pressure right now. It’s too dangerous to do a lumbar puncture to drain some fluid and reduce it that way. All we can do is give him regular diuretics and see if that helps.”

Julian was stunned. A blood clot? Well, that explains the locked-in syndrome. But how the hell did Martin create something that can induce a stroke?

There was a long pause before Dax spoke again. “I’ll be honest with you, Benjamin. Considering the number of seizures he’s had in the last few hours, I’ll be surprised if he regains consciousness at any point.”

So strokes, increased cranial pressure and seizures. What a sadistic way to kill the brain off.

Wait a minute. Julian took a moment to process his thoughts. He said it would kill me, but not a normal human. Maybe there was some sort of nanomachine in the gas that was coded to my DNA? A virus that was engineered for me? I guess we’ll have no way of knowing since that was the only sample-

“What I don’t get is why he’s not responding to traditional anti-thrombotic treatment,” Dax sounded exasperated. “He’s been given multiple doses of enoxaparin, and yet there’s been next to no improvement in his condition. He should be awake.”

But I am! I’m here, Dax! I’m here! Clearly some of that medication has worked, otherwise I’d be a complete vegetable. If you’d just look at the EEG-

A sudden realisation came over him like cold sweat. My accelerated metabolism!..Maybe that’s been affecting the half-life of the medications! Dammit, Dax, think about it!

But wait! Oh God, they can’t find out! If they do, I’ll never get to practice medicine again!! Maybe she’ll just think I have a naturally high metabolism…maybe??

He felt his autonomic nervous system activate, his heart rate quickly accelerating as he began to panic over this internal conflict. If they have to find out to save my life, will it be worth it?!

“Heart rate ninety-nine, BP 149/100.” Jabara called out.

Yes, because I’m stressed!! 

“Heart rate one-fourteen, beta waves increasing. He’s gonna have another seizure,” Dax must’ve been looking at a monitor. 

No I’m not! You’re not bloody listening to me!! I’m here!

“I need one milligram of clonazepam!” Dax ordered. “Benjamin, tilt his neck for us.”

He felt a set of calloused hands wrap themselves around his head. No, no, Dax! Don’t sedate me again!

The familiar pressure of the hypospray was applied against his jugular, the signature hissing quickly drifting away as he felt himself dissolve into bliss.

Chapter Text

Seventeen

While he didn’t know how long the clonazepam had robbed him of his consciousness, he did know that he had been bitterly fuming from the moment it was returned to him. 

Dammit, Jadzia, just you wait until I can get up. 

Just. You. Wait. 

I’ll teach you exactly how to read a damned EEG. Presence of beta waves doesn’t mean a frickin’ seizure! It means I’m here!!

Bloody hell, she should be able to see that I’m conscious!

Now I see why they say locked-in syndrome is worse than death…

In order to occupy the time between periods of sleep, he found himself honing in on the surrounding audio stimuli to gain clues about his environment and current condition. This was, of course, when he didn’t have someone constantly talking in his ear.

Dax was the main voice he’d been hearing, offering him brief updates of his current condition. She didn’t usually address him when discussing his care, instead choosing to solely address Jabara with her quiet concerns. 

He assumed this aversion was deliberate to keep her emotions at bay. Every time she did talk to him, her breath shuddered violently, and she’d leave with a kiss on his hand instead of speaking.

Jabara would mutter comforting words when she and another nurse were attending to his hygiene and observations. Although his knowledge of the Bajoran language was limited, Julian was almost certain that the nurses had been murmuring a few prayers, and despite not being religious himself, he still felt honoured that they cared enough for him to do so.

His thoughts continually strayed towards Garak. Despite all the comforting phrases that had been whispered in his ears, no one had told him anything about Garak’s condition since Dax spoke to him a few days ago. Nothing about where he was, what his injuries were, or even if he was still alive. 

If I live and he dies, I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself.

It took him a moment to realise that the constant background chatter had disappeared, and his surroundings had been quiet for some time; he assumed Jadzia had finally been persuaded to have a proper meal or sleep. 

He was starting to consider attempting to fall asleep when heavy footsteps approached his medical bed, followed by an awkward cough. The visitor sat their weight on the end of the bed, resting against Julian’s feet.  “Hey Julian. It’s, uh, i-it’s Miles here.”

Miles! Julian was taken aback. Now this is a surprise. I must’ve been here for a while.

A brief silence fell before Miles inhaled sharply. “Come on, Julian, th-this is gettin’ ridiculous. You’ve been in here for almost a week already. I need you back. This whole station is gettin’ on my nerves, including how I’ve had to fix your damn stasis unit three times…Of course you don’t need it fixed until you’re the one actually in it!”

Oh Miles, please stop apologising. I don’t even recall the last time that thing got used. It’s a miracle it even still works, to be honest. Though I suppose I should expect nothing less from the sole repairer of this station.

Wait, what do you mean nearly a week?!

“I-I’m sorry, Julian, that…that was uncalled for. I just need to rant to someone…I don’t have many options apart from you, a-and I mean, you…can’t exactly talk back right now…Any other time I’d say that was a blessing.”

You definitely sound overdue for a game of darts, my friend.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you’re still alive, but…” Miles’s voice faltered. “You’re not doin’ much living in this state, Julian. And I miss you.”

Julian knew that if he was physically able to, he would’ve been wiping tears from his eyes. It was only in the most serious circumstances that Miles ever displayed this much emotion, and it gave him a good indication of just how dire his situation had been. I miss you too, Miles. I miss Garak and Jadzia. Hell, I can’t believe I miss the simple pleasure of scratching my damn eye, of all things! This is absolute torture.

He was even more surprised when he became aware of a strange sensation spreading across his face. Was that an itch?! I haven’t felt itchy once during this adventure…

His stomach dropped when he felt his eyelids twitch. 

Not just one eyelid, but both. 

Is it possible?…

Miles was still talking, but his words had become lost in the excitement in Julian’s mind. He experimented with other parts of his body, attempting to flex his fingers and toes with no success. His neck remained firmly still, and his lips felt as though they were glued shut.

He decided to take a gamble, and activated his orbicularis oculi.

If he’d been physically capable of recoiling from the pain that the sudden change in brightness caused him, he would’ve fallen off the bed. His eyes had only been open for a second before he quickly screwed them shut. Oh, my Lord…I wasn’t expecting it to hurt that much.

Then again, I suppose it would hurt to be exposed to light when your corneas haven’t seen it for days on end…

“Julian?!” Miles’s voice pitched up with surprise. “My God, Julian!” He blinked dumbly at his friend for a few seconds before quickly shouting over his shoulder. “Dax! Dax, he’s awake! J-Julian keep your eyes open for me!”

For God’s sake, Miles, keep your voice down! My head is hurting enough as it is.

He could hear rapid footsteps and excited shouts around him, but was too focused on attempting to fight the pain to listen. Julian manage to squint at his best friend, sighing with relief as Dax came into view with a tricorder. Finally, we’re making progress.

Chapter Text

Eighteen

Well, so much for making progress.

Despite everyone's initial excitement that he'd recovered from his comatose state (Julian couldn't tell them otherwise at this point) the mood in sickbay quickly soured as it became clear that Julian's paralysis didn't appear to be recovering quickly. Six hours had passed since he regained the use of his eyes, yet the rest of his body remained more immobile than a statue.

They'd done the kindness of altering the bed and using extra pillows to prop him up for a better view of the infirmary, but they'd only been able to place him in a slight semi-recumbent position, as his neck kept flopping violently if they tried to raise him any higher.

What they hadn't done, however, was actually explain what had happened during his time in sickbay. From the moment Miles had screamed out for Jadzia, he'd been plotting how to convey his irritation at not being provided with explanations, yet despite glaring at people with all his might, no one had picked up on the subliminal message. All they cared about was that he had 'apparently' awoken.

I mean, I'm glad they care, but still…

Dax and Jabara had re-run every test they could think of and had used the cortical stimulators so many times that Julian was starting to get a headache. Both women gave him a despondent look as they stood at the foot of his bed, anxiously staring at a monitor. Jadzia's normally-flawless hair had started to fray and come loose from her ponytail, and Jabara's eyes were decorated with dark circles that seemed to worsen every time Julian looked at her.

"The only possible cause that I can't rule out because I can't make it disappear," Jadzia finally announced, "is that the swelling in your brain is what's causing the paralysis to linger."

Julian sighed despondently. It took him a moment to remember that he was meant to be 'communicating' with Jadzia, and blinked twice for yes. That was my conclusion as well. Now can you please give me an explanation of what the hell has happened since the holosuite?!

A brief pause followed as Jadzia took a moment to inspect his intra-arterial line. Part of him wondered who had inserted it. "Are you comfortable, Julian?"

As much as I can be, I suppose. I can't exactly tell you what I'm irritated about.

Jabara gave a glance at the vitals monitor, her brow furrowing. "Your heart rate's been elevated since you woke up, Julian, and it doesn't seem to be settling."

Yes, because I'm bloody frustrated!

"Are you in pain?" Jabara asked.

One blink. I wish I could roll my eyes…

"That's good, at least. Is something wrong?"

Two blinks. It's taken you long enough to figure it out.

"Do you need repositioning?"

One blink.

"Are you too hot or cold?"

One blink. Dammit, Jadzia, figure it out!

Dax paused for a moment. "…I'm not sure what you need, Julian, I'll be honest. Has something changed that you need to tell us about?"

Julian wanted to scream. He could feel his heart rate skyrocketing as the monitor started to beep incessantly, and assumed his blood pressure would be doing the same. Despite his body's unconscious attempts to increase his respiratory rate, his diaphragm stubbornly refused to respond. No amount of willpower and internal struggling made any difference, and it was beginning to feel overwhelming.

"Julian, you need to settle," Dax said cautiously. "Your body is still weak and I don't want you stressing out if you don't need to be stressed."

But I am, Jadzia! How can I relax when no one has told me what has become of Garak?!

"Excuse me, Lieutenant," Odo's gruff voice came from the medbay entrance, "but I have a visitor here who is insistent on seeing the good doctor, despite my recommendations against doing so at this time."

Both ladies glanced towards the door, their faces softening upon seeing whoever had come to visit. "It's alright, Constable," Jabara waved the mystery visitor in. "I think this would be good for him, anyway."

Jadzia gave her patient a warm smile. "I think this should make you feel better, Julian."

If it's another sedative, Jadzia, I swear you're going to-

"My dear doctor," Garak's voice made the hairs on his arms stand up. "It's so good to have you back with us. Your medical staff and the good constable been providing me with updates on your condition while I've been recovering."

My God! Julian's spirits instantly lifted as the Cardassian walked into view, clearly still weak, but most definitely No amount of willpower and internal struggling made any difference, and it was beginning to feel overwhelming.. His eyes widened so far that he was sure he looked utterly ridiculous, but it was the only expression he could currently convey. Garak! You're alive!

The tailor gave him a wide but fatigued smile as he carefully made his way to Julian's side, the shift in his demeanour sending alarm bells ringing in the doctor's head. Jadzia and Jabara offered to give him a hand, but he politely raised a hand to decline. "Would it be appropriate if I may request some privacy for this conversation?"

Dax gave the Cardassian a gentle nod. "We'll be outside if either of you need anything, Garak." She grabbed a couple of pads from Julian's bedside before following Jabara and Odo out of the treatment room.

Garak hissed as he settled into the seat at Julian's head, placing a hand on the doctor's shoulder. "Doctor Bashir, you are truly a man of miracles. After all, I am a dead man walking, am I not?"

Julian hadn't realised he'd raised an eyebrow at first, but was pleased to have successfully performed the gesture. How the hell did you survive?!

"Ah, yes, they did inform me of your current…plight. Though I must say," Garak raised a finger in exclamation, "that I, for one, am not enjoying this forced silence of yours. We cannot discuss our fondness for literature with you unable to fill my head with more of your Federation-based values."

Oh, Garak. Julian chuckled mentally, his excitement growing as his lips erratically twitched into a smile. You're still an arse, Garak, but you're still a dear friend.

Chapter Text

Nineteen

His next achievement was regaining control of his facial muscles.

It took another few hours of intense practice and willpower before he was able to grimace, smile and poke his tongue out. Jabara and Dax were both thoroughly impressed with this sudden improvement, though they continued to warn him that full restoration of muscle control could take significant time. They estimated it would be several weeks before the neurotoxic effects of the poison had worn off completely, and he would require intensive physiotherapy and speech therapist sessions before returning to duty.

He didn't care. He was just happy to be able to move something, even if it didn't achieve much.

He didn't even mind that he wouldn't be able to talk for a few days, if not weeks, despite the five straight hours of stretching and flexing he'd completed; Dax had made it very clear that he was not to push himself, as there would be time to report on what had happened to him later.

Part of him was secretly grateful for the continued forced mutism. My vocal cords are probably fried after all of that screaming anyway.

If anything, now that he knew Garak was alive and on the road to recovery, he didn't feel like talking to anyone. He was content to sit quietly in sickbay, staring off into space as the staff buzzed around him, only providing the minimal level of attention required.

He was subconsciously aware that this was definitely abnormal, but he found he didn't have the energy to care. I'll wait for the station's counsellor to diagnose PTSD before I do.

Recognising that he'd been through a traumatic event, Julian thought it meant that the first nightmare shouldn't have come as a shock.

But he realised they were far more terrifying when experiencing them while still paralysed. His fatigued and drug-riddled hippocampus presented him with a confusing collage of various figures of Michael, proudly showing off his collection of various surgical devices before sticking them into various parts of Julian's body. He realised the strange noises he kept hearing were his own muffled screams, and the puddle underneath his feet was actually blood.

It wasn't until he had fought free of the grips of unconsciousness that he had the horrifying realisation that most of the horrors he had been shown were memories. Oh my God…

The maniacal laughter was still ringing in Julian's ears as his eyes bolted wide open, his adrenal glands kicking into overdrive. I think I'm gonna be sick…

His patient gown was now drenched in a puddle of sweat that he couldn't wipe away; screams muted by his unresponsive vocal chords; limbs that wanted to flail but remained pinned to his sides. All he could do was pant and rasp pathetically while blinking away the tears that had formed in response to the fear-inducing stimulus, praying that someone was on duty to notice his distress.

In his narrow field of vision, which consisted of a single computer unit and part of the narcotics cabinet, he came to the conclusion that he would have to ride this 'episode' out on his own. Desperately wracking his tired brain, he attempted to recall the spiel he would recite to patients who presented with anxiety attacks, yet his mind came up empty.

He chose to resort to good old-fashioned self-reassurance. I'm safe, I'm okay. Martin isn't here. Martin isn't here. Martin…

"Julian?!"

Dax! Oh, thank God.

"Julian, your heart rate is one hundred and forty. What's going on?" Dax knelt by his bedside, grasping his unresponsive hand in hers and giving it a gentle squeeze. She had a dressing gown on over her uniform, which made him wonder if she had been sleeping in the infirmary.

He felt the familiar urge of frustration reappear as he fought to keep his breathing under control. How am I supposed to tell you Dax?! Julian realised his tears were an advantage in this situation, and briefly stopped repressing them long enough for a few to slide down his cheeks.

Dax's face instantly morphed from concern to heartbreak. "Oh, Julian…are you in pain?"

He still couldn't move his head, and his lips still wouldn't move in the directions he needed for mouthing words, so he resorted back to their blinking system. No. One blink. Come on, Jadzia, work it out…

A yawn interrupted Dax, prompting her to gaze at the nearest chronometer. She turned back to Julian with an expression that told him she was putting the pieces together. "Nightmare?"

Two blinks. More tears began to wet his face.

Blinking away her own tears of compassion, Jadzia leaned down to give him a gentle kiss on the forehead. She wiped his brow with her sleeve before delicately dabbing his eyes. "Oh, Julian, I'm so sorry. I knew we should've offered you a sedative. I-I can't believe we forgot-"

One blink. I would've declined anyway.

Jadzia stroked his damp hair comfortingly; in a strange way, it reminded him of how his mother used to do the same when he was recuperating on Adigeon Prime. She sighed deeply before speaking. "I know that you can't tell me what you were dreaming about, but I'm assuming it was to do with what's happened?"

Two blinks. It's a shame you're not Vulcan, Jadzia. You'd be able to see exactly what happened to me. How he strapped me down and tore my skin apart like it was a sheet of paper and how I felt every incision and how delicately he sliced the digital nerves in both hands and how tightly he wound hose bandages around my mouth and how they cut into my lips and wait why am I sobbing-

"Breathe, Julian."

His lungs screamed.

The incessant alarming of the heart rate monitor gradually slowed.

"That's it, Julian. Slow breathing."

I thought I was breathing, but anyway.

Jadzia's voice seemed to be the light he needed to focus on in the surrounding darkness. The edges of his vision slowly sharpened, the colours slowly returning until he could clearly see Jadzia.

He felt his sinoatrial node and medulla oblongata finally kicking back into gear, settling his erratic heart rate and slowing his breathing.

Julian sighed wearily. Great. Now I have to blow my nose.

"Would you like a sedative to get through the rest of tonight?" Dax proposed quietly. "It's just gone 0200 hours-"

One blink. For some reason, he now felt incredibly tired.

Dax nodded, squeezing his hand again. "Do you want me to stay for a while?"

He felt his eyes beginning to sting again as he blinked twice. Why am I crying again?! I just stopped!

Realising there was no fighting this process, he allowed his body to take control and weep silently, Jadzia stroking his hand tenderly. I cannot wait until I can talk to you about this instead of sobbing.

Chapter Text

Twenty

To his much-needed relief, the nightmares in the days that followed didn’t seem to be as distressing. Though whether it was because he was already used to them or had accepted their presence, he wasn’t sure. I wanted to do frontier medicine, not to revisit my lack of knowledge in neurosciences.

Odo paid him a visit two days after the paralysis had begun to dissipate, running through a summary of what had happened upon their infiltration of the holosuites. Martin had been successfully taken into custody, though it would be several days before a transport to Earth for his trial was available. Although polite and professional in his manner (as usual), Julian could tell that Odo was uncomfortable; it was almost as if Odo was afraid of him.

Before the constable could make a hasty exit, Julian took the time to scribble what he hoped were some comforting words: I don’t blame you for not getting to us sooner, Odo. Martin made your job impossibly difficult.

Odo had given the doctor a hint of a grateful smile before making his departure.

It was almost two weeks after he’d first awoken from his coma before he’d finally been discharged from the infirmary, though part of him wondered they even bothered to release him when he was confined to a hoverchair and still needed continual support for daily living. The medical side of his brain tried to continually remind him that it was an essential part of the recovery process for one to be in a familiar and ‘homely’ environment, though the rest of him found it humiliating to need someone by his side almost every waking hour. 

A small but selfish part of him was glad it was Jadzia helping him.

He had made a considerable amount of progress while in the infirmary, and he didn’t want to let that go unnoticed. If it hadn’t been for an insistent (and almost aggressive) Jadzia, he would’ve tried to walk back to his quarters, yet he remained unable to express those thoughts and was pushed into a hoverchair for the journey. The fact that my legs will cooperate but not my voice…Wouldn’t surprise me if Martin deliberately engineered it like that.

The speech therapist was on his doorstep less than an hour after he returned to his quarters, and he mutely fought off Jadzia’s attempts to keep him in the hoverchair so as to answer the door chime. A middle-aged female, Julian had never encountered Donna before - he’d certainly never met a speech therapist from Betazed, of all places - but found that he was skeptical after she laid our her ideal treatment plan for him. 

“I’m eager to get started, Doctor,” Donna iterated firmly, “because the longer we wait, the longer it will take for you to regain what you’ve lost control of.”

Yeah. Don’t remind me.

For some infuriating reason, the only part of his body that seemed to remain paralysed were his vocal cords. No matter how hard he’d tried in the infirmary, he couldn’t get any sort of sounds to emerge. Part of him wondered how speech therapy was supposed to be helpful when he couldn’t speak at all, but he kept his thoughts private and decided it would be best to pay heed to Donna’s advice.

Two hours later he received a similar speech from J’ovian, the Vulcan physiotherapist, and had to physically restrain himself from rolling his eyes when discussing his treatment. I guess I should be grateful I can roll my eyes now.

God, they really did mean it when they said doctors make the worst patients.

Unfortunately for Julian, it seemed he couldn’t hide his displeasure from J’ovian well enough, for the Vulcan’s eyebrows perked up. “Is something you disagree with about this treatment plan, Doctor?”

Julian wasn’t sure whether to shake his head or nod. I can’t exactly tell you what I think of it, but yes. Surely we can speed things up a bit? What is this station going to do without a CMO? People will need my help!

“Try mouthing it, Julian,” Dax encouraged quietly. “Donna said that was a good place to start.”

Stop patronising me, Dax. I look like a fool enough as it is. Julian sighed, instantly feeling regret at the mental insult. He found himself staring at a patch of carpet as he focused his effort on shaping his lips, the amount of strain required to do so surprising him. His zygomaticus, masseter and orbicularis orls felt as though they were made of stone, sending minor signals of pain along his jaw as he worked.

When his lips began seizing halfway through his sentence, he shook his head and released an angry sigh, his hands grasping the arms of the hoverchair. This is ridiculous. 

J’ovian gave him the equivalent of a compassionate Vulcan stare. “Take your time, Doctor.”

After letting his anger dissipate, Julian fidgeted uselessly with his fingers. Eventually, he gave up on what he’d originally planned to express, and settled on the shortest response possible, praying that the others would be able to figure out what he meant. “Too…long…”

J’ovian nodded slightly. “I’m sure you of all people, Doctor, will appreciate this will not be instantaneous. I will not drag this process out any longer than necessary, but you cannot achieve a complete recovery so quickly, and you run the risk of causing damage that may set you back.”

Julian let out a heavy sigh as he reluctantly nodded. I don’t really have a say in this, but fine. Let’s get on with it then.

Satisfied with his patient’s response, J’ovian rose from his seat. “Now then. Shall we begin with some stretches?”

******

I feel like a goldfish.

Dax stared at the message on Julian’s pad as she set down a cup of tea, her brow furrowed in confusion. “A fish? How?”

Deciding this was one of the few times actions would speak louder than words, Julian threw aside what was left of his pride and uselessly flapped his lips open and closed in an exaggerated fashion. The movement caused his jaw to spasm painfully, and he found himself massaging it for the fiftieth time that week. I’m never doing Donna’s speech therapy regime again.

Nodding in understanding, Jadzia sat herself next to the doctor, removing his hand as to massage his jaw for him. “Julian, it’s nothing to be ashamed of-”

He interrupted with a harsh sigh, deciding he needed to at least attempt to communicate normally. “I…feel…stupid.” Julian quickly regretted the attempt, as attempting to form an ‘f’ only resulted in further discomfort. During his speech therapy session earlier that morning, he and Donna had come to work out which particular movements were causing him the most pain to form. His ‘homework’ was to practice attempting to form those sounds in isolation, without trying to use them in a full sentence. 

“I know I keep saying this, Julian, but it is okay,” Dax grasped his jaw, gently tilting his head upwards to make eye contact. “Your body’s been through an extraordinary amount of trauma; it’s not going to get better overnight.”

Before Julian could interrupt with another irritated sigh, Jadzia brought his hand to the mug of tea sitting on the coffee table. “And don’t think you’re getting out of your physio tonight, mister. Let’s start with drinking the tea.”

The doctor reluctantly complied, grasping the warm cup and lifting it to his mouth. He’d never realised how autonomous the act of drinking and swallowing were to adults, and it frustrated him to no end that he was having to learn how to have a cup of Tarkelian tea again.

He pressed the rim of the cup to his lips and attempted to pour the liquid into his mouth, only for some of it to miss entirely and drip down his chin. “Ahhah!”

Julian dropped the cup, hurriedly trying to brush the burning tea off of his newly-healed skin. Ouch ouch ouch, why did she make the computer brew it with boiling water-

WAIT A MINUTE.

His eyes widened as he raised a shaking hand to his larynx, touching the skin with delicacy to avoid provoking the new burns. He turned to Dax, a smile rapidly spreading across his face. “My…voice!”

Dax’s eyes were just as wide as his, only filled with tears of joy. “Julian! Quick, let me get a tricorder and dermal regenerator!”

Jadzia sprinted out of his quarters so quickly that he barely registered what had happened. He was still stunned, his fingertips dancing idly across his throat. Finally, some actual progress…

Chapter Text

Twenty One

A quick scan of his throat confirmed their suspicions; the paralysis around his vocal cords had finally begun to weaken. "This is fantastic, Julian!" Jadzia's smile was almost blinding as she glanced up from the tricorder. "It means Donna can incorporate some actual speech into your therapy!"

Placing the dermal regenerator aside, Julian abandoned his semi-healed burn and began typing furiously on his pad. "I definitely wasn't imaging it, was I?"

"No! No, absolutely not, Julian. I definitely heard it," Jadzia soothed. "Besides, the tricorder isn't lighting up with as many warnings as the last time I scanned your larynx. That definitely indicates some improvement."

Julian allowed himself a small smile. "Can't believe I miss having people telling me to shut up," He typed, allowing Dax to read it while he attempted a second sip of his tea, now that it had significantly cooled since his disastrous first mouthful. Most of it managed to get into his mouth, with only a small amount dribbling down his chin. Not exactly Pride and Prejudice sophisticated, but it's a good start.

"I'm sure the Chief will enjoy being the first to resume the tradition," Jadzia laughed. She looked up to find the mug trembling in Julian's grasp and concern immediately flashed across her face. "Is your hand spasming again? We can have a break and try-"

Julian shook his head enthusiastically. "Strength…is…better!" He demonstrated his newfound skill by removing some of his fingers from the mug's handle, lifting it to his mouth with only two still clasped around the porcelain.

The Trill gave him a proud smile. "Feel up to a trip to sickbay? I want to do some more testing before we call it a night."

"Dax tells me you've hit a milestone with your recovery, Doctor."

Julian gave his commander an affirmative nod before hurriedly typing his reply. "My vocal cords have come out of 'hibernation', so to speak. It will be some time before I'm back to my old self, but I'm finding that sometimes a sound or two will be produced when I'm trying to mouth a sentence, which indicates that my body is trying to reconnect the dots towards proper speech."

"As far as either of you can tell," Sisko asked thoughtfully, "is there any sign of permanent damage?"

"So far it's been reassuring progress, Benjamin," Dax answered, setting aside her tricorder. "Considering three weeks ago I thought he was never going to regain consciousness, and here we are."

"But his voice, Dax? Is there any permanent damage to his voice? We can't have a CMO who can't talk!"

Julian began to feel like a fly on the wall in a conversation about his own health. He opened his mouth to intervene, however neither Dax or Sisko were looking in his direction, so he decided to close it and allow Dax to speak for him.

"He can physically produce a sound, but it'll take some more time with the speech therapy before whole words and sentences are in the realm of possibility. In saying that though, someone keeps trying to push himself before he's ready, and tries to mouth entire essays." Dax said fondly, turning her gaze towards the young doctor resting on the sickbay bed.

Deciding it would be best to keep up an energetic appearance, Julian returned the comment with an exaggerated wink, eliciting laughter from both officers. "Doctors…make…bad…patients." His eyes widened as he realised a hiss had escaped his lips, his cheeks flushing red with embarrassment. Wasn't expecting that…But why did it have to be in front of Sisko?

"Haven't heard that one yet, have we?" Jadzia smiled, patting the doctor's hand.

"Don't be embarrassed, Julian," Sisko said reassuringly. "It's nice to hear your voice again. If anything, I look forward to hearing your oral report when you resume duties."

Julian gave the commander a grateful nod, though it did nothing to dispel the redness in his face.

"I'll leave you both to continue your recovery," Sisko gave Julian a gentle pat on the shoulder before making his departure, leaving the two science officers alone in the infirmary.

A brief silence fell between the two as Jadzia fiddled with the neurostimulator, placing it at the front of Julian's throat. "I'd like to do another round with this before we leave, just to make sure this progress isn't going to slip away overnight."

"Just between you and me, Julian," Jadzia whispered, "you'd make a fantastic snake impersonator."

Julian was caught off-guard by the comment, finding his face twisting into a wide smile. He was also surprised by the involuntary, strangled laugh that emerged from his mouth, which sounded more like a dying animal than a human. His cheeks turning even redder, he clasped a hand tightly over his mouth, gazing at the ground in shame. Oh my God, Julian. You had to make the ugliest sound possible-

He realised Jadzia had suddenly enveloped him into a fierce hug, his vision now surrounded by his friend's uniform. Her chest shuddered as she struggled to maintain her composure. "…You have…no idea…how much I thought I was never going to hear you laugh again."

A sudden damp sensation on his right shoulder told him that Dax was crying. He manoeuvred himself to return the gesture, finding his own eyes becoming teary. There's so much I can't wait to tell you, Dax.

How grateful I am for your care and comfort.

How you didn't give up on me as I lay there dying.

How much I appreciate your friendship.

Jadzia suddenly pulled away, wiping her eyes hurriedly. "I'm, um…I'm sorry about that, Julian. I-I don't know where that-"

Julian interrupted her by raising his hand. "It's…okay…Jadzia."

Smiles of delight erupted across both of their faces, and they found themselves embracing each other once again as more tears were produced.

It was a long time before any further testing got done that night.

Chapter Text

Twenty Two

"Try it again, Doctor."

For God's sake, we've been doing these exercises for over an hour! My throat feels like sandpaper.

Julian sighed and took a moment to compose himself, secretly grateful that he still couldn't launch into outbursts that he would later regret. Last thing I need is to upset the people trying to ensure my smooth return to normalcy.

"You forget I'm from Betazed, Doctor Bashir," Donna folded her hands in her lap, giving him a smirk. "I know exactly how much you hate me right now."

Julian's eyes instantly widened. Bugger. I forgot about that.

How did I forget that?!

He found himself involuntarily blushing and decided in that moment that a certain section of the carpet would be a good place to stare.

"It's alright, Doctor. I've had plenty of patients think far worse things about me," Donna laughed politely. "I do think you've earned a break for now. If it suits you, I'd like to return this afternoon to continue this session."

Julian gratefully reached for the glass of water, nodding as he chugged the gloriously-cool liquid. "Thanks, Donna."

To his surprise, Donna gave him another smile. "That's the greatest number of sounds I've heard you produce in one go. You're improving, Doctor."

"Jadzia…has…helped." Julian barely suppressed the urge to cringe at his pathetic attempt of a sentence, but decided it would help to reassure Donna that he wasn't a completely lost cause.

Finishing her second cup cup of Tarkealian tea for the morning, Donna gave him an approving nod. "I'm very impressed, Doctor. Shall we resume this session at fifteen hundred hours?"

Julian went to nod, only for Donna to raise an interrupting hand. "I'd like to hear more of your voice, please. I think you're well past the 'answering with gestures' phase."

He fought to keep his impending barge of negative thoughts under control for a few moments longer and focused on providing an acceptable response. "See…you…later…then."

The Betazoid rose from her seat, returning her empty mugs to Julian's replicator. "Rest well, Doctor."

He maintained the polite facade until she had disappeared through to the corridor outside his quarters, and allowed his fatigued zygomaticus and masseter to collapse into a scowl. How many more weeks of this rubbish have I got left?

He knew that the majority of his frustration was drawn from the fact that he should be advancing his recovery quicker than he currently was; he'd been doing round-the-clock speech therapy and physio exercises for the last nine days, yet he was still unable to properly enunciate a whole word, or walk any further than the distance from his bed to the fresher.

If there was any point in my life where these genetic enhancements would actually be valued, now is the time.

Part of him tried to give himself some credit. His legs had regained enough strength that he'd been able to stop using the hover chair three days ago, though he'd still been given a stick to carry in case he needed to steady himself.

Nobody had to know that he'd immediately buried the damned thing in the bottom drawer of his dresser, never to see the light of day again.

Well, at least until he could discreetly return it to the infirmary.

The doorbell to his quarters chimed, interrupting his stream of thoughts. He heaved his aching body off of the couch and made his way to the door; he and Jadzia had worked out days ago that it was easier to physically open his quarters than trying to get the computer to understand his attempts at speech.

If you think about it, our technology really isn't as accessible and accomodating as I thought it was- Oh!

To his surprise, Sisko was waiting patiently in the corridor, giving nothing away with his neutral expression. A padd was tucked under his arm, its content hidden beneath the sleeve of his uniform. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything, Doctor."

Julian shook his head immediately, giving his best 'please-don't-worry' expression. He extended his arm out and stepped back into his quarters, allowing his commanding officer to enter.

"I apologise for barging in on your recovery, Doctor," Sisko continued, folding his arms behind him as he paced the living area, "but unfortunately, Starfleet Intelligence have decided they won't wait any longer."

When Julian gave him a confused look, Sisko held out the padd to him. "They want a full report from you. I'm told it must be on my desk by 0900 tomorrow at the latest."

Julian's heart sunk, and he didn't bother trying to hide the grim expression that came across his face. He stared despondently the padd, skimming through the memo from Starfleet Intelligence. One paragraph in particular made his blood boil: We understand your concerns and have reviewed your request for this to be delayed, however the report must be submitted in order for Doctor Bashir to continue serving under your command. We feel we have been lenient enough-

Lenient, my ass!

He dropped the padd on his couch in disgust, pacing away from Sisko and rubbing his face furiously. It took a few moments before the sudden fury that erupted within him to calm. Secretly, he was grateful that his distasteful comments toward Starfleet couldn't be voiced yet.

"Doctor?" Sisko broke the tense silence.

Julian turned to retrieve the discarded padd, typing so furiously that his fingertips were slamming into the screen. Are they threatening my commission over this?! None of it was my fault!

"I know it's not, Doctor, but Starfleet sees it differently," Sisko explained calmly. "From their point of view, one of my officers has been the victim of a apparent terrorist attack. I haven't given them any details, because even I don't know any details. All I've provided is what Garak has told me, and even he doesn't know the full story, so of course Starfleet are asking what the hell is going on!"

Sisko gently took the padd from Julian, scrolling and tapping until he found what he was looking for. "'The assailant began unleashing some kind of chemical gas which he explicitly stated was not fatal to human beings, except for Doctor Bashir. He had designed it specifically for this purpose'. Can you explain to me what makes you special enough that Mister Palis decided that creating a bioweapon was justified?"

Oh shit.

A cold sweat came over his body.

"Doctor, I can't help you unless you tell me what happened. Why did he engineer this? Was this an isolated incident, or was he planning to use it on others?!"

Julian decided he would try to deflect the question. Does Starfleet think I'm a terrorist?

"No they don't, Julian. Answer my question," Sisko reiterated. His expression softened as he motioned for the doctor to sit next to him. "What's really going on here?"

Julian's trembling fingers hovered over the padd.

I can't tell him the truth. I can't .

But it doesn't mean I can't tell him most of it…

It took him some time to construct an answer that he prayed Sisko would believe, even though most of it was exactly what Martin had told him anyway. He just decided to omit the quip about how his genetic enhancements had been found out, and that the weapon was only ever meant for him.

He fought desperately with his sympathetic nervous system, trying to suppress his adrenaline while the commander read his notes. It was impossible to tell if Sisko genuinely believed him, but the matter was left there for the moment. After declaring that he would get Starfleet to buy him more time to recover before submitting anything 'truly' official, Sisko made a suspiciously-swift exit from Julian's quarters, leaving the doctor alone with his growing paranoia.

I just lied to my superior officer.

He wiped away the sweat that had finally broken through on his forehead.

I need a freaking drink.

Chapter Text

Twenty Three

“I must say, Doctor, how pleased I am to see you out and about once again,” Garak gave him a warm smile across the table. “It’s no good for any of us to be tucked away, especially for someone as social as yourself.”

Julian finished his mouthful of tea before picking up his padd, his fingers dancing across the screen as he typed. It’s nice to be able to leave my quarters under my own power again, though I must say I’m not a fan of the cane.

“But surely neither of these devices won’t be a permanent addition to your lifestyle?” Garak asked. “After all, doctor, I do miss hearing your real voice.”

As do I. The cane won’t be needed for much longer, thankfully; all of that physiotherapy has paid off. Julian paused, trying to think of the best way to word his next sentence. To tell you the truth, Garak, I’m still using the padd even though I shouldn’t be. But my voice still isn’t as reliable as it once was, and it embarrasses me to speak in public.

Garak quirked his brow. “You are indeed a rebellious patient, doctor. And you shouldn’t allow your fear of the reactions of others to impede on your recovery.”

I know. I can’t help it, though.

“In that case, I am going to make an executive decision. How about I do this-“ Garak had retrieved the padd before Julian could intervene, stashing it underneath the table, “and I get a chance to hear you instead of that dreadful computer.”

Damn you, Garak! Julian huffed, slumping back in his chair with defeat. He pursued his lips, hoping his irritation was evidently conveyed. 

“Doctor,” Garak’s voice took on a softer tone, with something resembling sympathy in his eyes. “Please, indulge me just this once. And the replimat is quite busy, as I’m sure you’ve already noticed.”

Therefore, no one will be paying attention. I see. 

Realising he couldn’t fight the inevitable any longer, Julian opened his mouth.  He fought the urge to visibly cringe. “Garak, you are a menace.”

The Cardassian’s smile was almost blinding, and very unexpected. “Doctor!”

“I know, it’s not perfect,” Julian’s hoarseness gave the impression of the presence of laryngitis, but he was grateful that all of his syllables were finally being pronounced properly. “The speech therapist said it could take another week or so-“

“But I didn’t realise how much improvement had occurred! Clearly, you’ve been keeping this a secret,” Garak tipped his glass in Julian’s direction before taking a mouthful. “I am very impressed.”

Julian sniggered into his cup of tea. “I’m glad to hear I’ve finally been able to outwit you, Garak.” Being able to beat a spy of the Obsidian Order must be some kind of first.

“Tell me, doctor. You’ve been such a reclusive man these last few weeks; if you’re almost back to your old self, why maintain the illusion?”

“That’s just it, Garak. I’m not my old self just yet,” Julian cringed as his voice broke, the syllables vanishing in his throat. He hurriedly took another sip before trying again. “There’s no point in me practising medicine if my patients can’t hear me.”

“Oh, I think it goes deeper than that, doctor,” Garak had the same look in his eyes that Julian had come to associate with their heated philosophical debates. “I think you’ve hidden yourself away, isolating yourself because you couldn’t bear the idea of being seen as anything but invincible. The thought of interacting with anyone without being able to speak for yourself, whether it be your colleagues or a patient, was enough to frighten you into this self-exile.”

“An interesting theory, Garak.”

“Well, I thought it was nicer than saying that you don’t interact with people when you’re unable to talk them into insanity.”

Julian’s garbled laugh rang throughout the replimat, unaware of the smiles that sprouted as a result.

****

He adjusted his collar in the mirror before finally pushing himself to leave his quarters. It was always more out of nerves than genuine need, but it had come a familiar part of his new routine.

The uniform had always looked a bit baggy on his lanky frame, but now it was even more obvious. He made a note to himself to bring it around to Garak’s shop after his shift; if he left it unchecked, Jabara would be putting him on a weight gain plan faster than he could replicate a smaller uniform.

He hadn’t expected anyone besides Jabara to be on duty when he arrived at the infirmary - she was always the first to arrive and last to leave - but Julian was secretly delighted to find the majority of his staff were waiting for him. Even those whose shifts didn’t start for another hour or so were present, breaking into smiles and cheers as Julian entered.

The hesitation that stopped his tongue immediately flapping had become almost second nature at this point. He took a breath as quietly as he could, focusing his energy into projecting around the room. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

He waited for the gasps and the questions. He waited for the concerns and the objections. Why are you back on duty when you sound like a dying whale?

But they never came.

“Just wanted to show our appreciation and pride at seeing you return to work,” Jabara’s admission brought him back to reality. “The infirmary isn’t the same without you.”

“Certainly isn’t as fun,” One of the junior grade lieutenants piped up, a smile of goodwill across her face.

He felt his cheeks flush as his staff laughed and clapped, parting as they allowed him to enter his infirmary. “Well, I do aim to live up to my old standards.”

Julian Bashir carefully hobbled to his desk, his eyes shimmering suspiciously as his colleagues surrounded him in love and laughter.

His heart hadn’t been this full for a long time, and he was going to enjoy every moment of it.