Author's notes: This story was originally published by Orion Press. It was written a number of years ago, before much of what we now know about the characters had been revealed. Since nearly every aspect of the story has since been contradicted by show canon, this story must now fall under the Alternate Universe heading. So, if you're willing to overlook that fact, read on and enjoy. If not, well, your time might be better spent elsewhere.

THE LION'S DEN
by: sone
ysone@otelco.net

CHAPTER 1

Captain Benjamin Sisko absently studied each of his staff as they entered the room and took their seats around the long polished table. First to arrive was Major Kira Nerys, his Bajoran first officer. He found her confused look amusing. She was obviously trying to figure out why he had called this meeting. She had not been in OPS when the message from Starfleet had come in for him a short while ago.

He glanced at Jadzia Dax as she came through the door. The Trill smiled serenely in his direction and took a seat beside Kira. Dax knew of the message but not its content. His attention was drawn back to the door as it slid open once again to admit Constable Odo, Chief of Security, followed closely by Operations Chief Miles O'Brien and Doctor Julian Bashir.

Sisko cleared his throat as they took their seats. The officers turned expectant, curious eyes to their commander. "As some of you know, I received a priority one message from Starfleet a short while ago." He caught Kira's startled glance and bit back an amused smile. "It seems that our station has been chosen to host the final talks in the Isphesnian peace conference."

Sisko paused to let the comment sink in. The excited murmurs told him they completely understood the significance of the announcement. A quick glance at their faces confirmed it. Until he glimpsed Doctor Bashir. The young man was sitting quietly, not joining in the excited talk around him. Sisko's eyes narrowed. Had Bashir paled? It was difficult to tell in the dim light of the ward room.

Major Kira's was the first to speak. "Why here?"

"Admiral Kelley was not entirely clear on the reasons behind the decision. He did say this was the first location that both sides would agree upon."

"That's odd," Dax commented. "DS9 is a little far from Isphesnian space."

"Perhaps that is it's appeal," Odo offered.

"The constable is probably right," said Sisko. " We have the advantages of both distance and neutrality. That most likely had something to do with the decision. The Bajoran government has given their approval to the decision and has offered to help with security if needed."

"How long do we have to prepare?" Kira asked.

"The Federation mediator will arrive in three days, the advance teams will arrive the day after that to help with the security arrangements. The talks are scheduled to begin two days later."

"That doesn't give us much time," Odo said.

"No, it doesn't," Sisko agreed, "so we'll have to move quickly." He met the shapeshifter's gaze. "Security is to be a top priority. The Isphesnians have a violent history dating back to the beginning of their war some twenty years ago."

Dax brought up the information on a nearby computer monitor.

Sisko continued, knowing she would correct him if he strayed from the information on the screen. "About twenty years ago, the Federation and Isphesne were in the midst of vital negotiations when problems first began to emerge between Isphesne and her four colony worlds. Some of the outlying colonies were against the negotiations. There was an incident, a terrorist attack of some kind that broke down the talks and eventually led to war."

"That incident must have been something to have had such severe repercussions," said O'Brien.

Sisko turned a questioning look to Dax. As she searched for the information, his eyes strayed to Doctor Bashir. Yes, he was definitely pale. Did the young man know something about the attack? It was possible. After all, his father was a renowned diplomat who was bound to have mentioned such events at home.

Dax's surprised voice drew his attention. "It says very little here about the actual attack. Just that the Emperor's son was killed in the incident."

Sisko stood and walked around behind Dax, reading the information over her shoulder.

"Well," he said, straightening, "we'll just have to work around it." He walked back to his chair but did not sit. "Unless," he continued, carefully studying each face, "anyone has additional information?"

There was silence for a moment as they considered it.

Kira was the first to speak. "I probably know less about this than any of you, but I know it's been a bloody and devastating war even by Bajoran standards, and there have been no attempts to settle it since the initial talks twenty years ago."

"I remember some of the rumors that were circulating at the time," Dax added, "but they were only rumors. I do know that the Federation has attempted to mediate several times. Emperor Martan of Isphesne adamantly refused to discuss peace. He seemed determined to prolong the war."

"I wonder what changed his mind?" Odo asked.

"Martan died almost a year ago," Sisko informed them. "His daughter, Rava, ascended to the throne in his place. I would assume she is more inclined toward peace."

Julian's head jerked up, his eyes widening at the news. Sisko watched with growing interest. The information obviously meant something to the doctor; something that he didn't want to share.

"Security precautions would certainly be more complete if we had all pertinent information," Odo observed.

"Maybe their security people will fill us in when they get here," Kira said hopefully.

"No one has any more information?" Sisko asked. "Doctor Bashir?"

"Sir?" The young man glanced up sharply.

Sisko sat down and leaned back. "I thought perhaps, considering your father's diplomatic ties, you may have heard something."

"No, sir, nothing," he answered quickly, too quickly. He visibly gathered himself and continued in a controlled voice. "It was a long time ago. I was only a child. I wouldn't have paid attention to anything my father might have said."

Of course. Sometimes, Sisko forgot just how young the doctor was. He wouldn't have been more than ten or so when the attack happened. "We don't have much time so let's get busy. If you run into any problems bring them directly to Major Kira or myself. Dismissed."

Julian stepped onto the lift and breathed a sigh of relief when it began moving before anyone else entered. He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. His heart was pounding so hard he couldn't think. Quickly, he ran through calming exercises to slow his pulse. After a short minute, he began breathing easier and his thinking cleared.

Damn! He was certain Captain Sisko had noticed his reaction to the announcement that the Isphesnians were coming here. Julian was surprised that the whole room hadn't noticed. He was sure his horror was written all over his face. But Sisko hadn't pressed for information, so maybe it wasn't as bad as he thought.

The lift doors slid open on the Promenade. Julian steeled his features and stepped into the bustling crowd. The Hermes was about to disembark, he realized absently. He made his way through the uniformed Starfleet personnel trying to finish last minute shopping and entered the infirmary. A quick glance around the area showed no activity, for which he was grateful. He wanted to be alone with his thoughts; at least, as alone as the station's only doctor could be while still on duty.

His eyes sought out and found Jabara, his Bajoran nurse. She was busy cleaning and replacing instruments in one of the examining areas. Julian frowned. There had been a problem, after all. Pushing aside his chaotic thoughts and donning what he hoped was a neutral expression, he crossed the room.

"Problem, Nurse?" he asked. He was surprised how devoid of emotion his voice sounded.

Jabara glanced up with a smile. "Morn was just in with a minor facial laceration." Her smile turned to an amused chuckle. "You would think he would have learned by now that you can't tell ethnic jokes to a Barlkian."

Julian ignored the attempt at humor. "You should have called me."

Jabara stepped back a bit at the sharp tone of the rebuke. "It was nothing I couldn't handle."

"It's not your place to decide what you can handle and what you can't. You're my nurse; you assist me." Julian stopped suddenly when he saw the wounded look in the Bajoran's eyes. He ran a hand over his face in irritation. "God, I'm sorry Jabara. I didn't mean that. It's just that I would have given anything to have been called away from that meeting. I didn't mean to snap."

Jabara smiled, forgiveness in her eyes, and placed a hand on his arm. "If you can't blow off steam with me, who can you? Was it bad news?"

Julian returned the smile and shook his head. "Nothing like that," he lied. "Just another long, boring techno-spill that had nothing to do with me or the infirmary. I don't know why the Captain insists that I attend those briefings."

He saw the disbelieving expression on the nurse's face and turned away before she could question him further. "I'll be in my office if anyone needs me," he called over his shoulder.

Jabara watched the young doctor stride quickly across the room and into his office. She frowned and crossed her arms over her chest as the door slid shut behind him. Julian was lying and it bothered her. She had never known him to lie before. He was as honest as he was handsome; and that was saying a lot, she admitted with a smile.

For one thing, the meeting hadn't been long; he had only been gone about half-an-hour. For another, Julian had long standing orders not to call him away from staff meetings for anything less than an emergency. He enjoyed the meetings, she knew, techno-babble and all. It was usually the only way he had to find out what was going on in OPS.

She frowned again as she turned back to her work, this time in frustration at the other officers. They often forgot about Julian down here in the Infirmary, cut off from the rest of the station, unless they needed him medically. He had never said anything but she knew it bothered him. They expected him to be fully prepared for anything but couldn't take time to bother with keeping him up-to-date on goings on in the rest of the station.

Jabara sighed as she replaced the last of the instruments she had used on Morn. Her maternal instincts had all but taken over where the young doctor was concerned. She couldn't help it, she rationalized. Julian needed mothering - she glanced toward his office where she could just make out his pained face as he leaned over his computer monitor - especially now.

CHAPTER 2

His breaths came faster as the large man moved closer. Oh, God! his mind screamed. Not another one! The man stopped before reaching where he sat, huddled in fear. His relief was replaced by terror when he realized the object of the man's attention. He screamed aloud as the man reached out a beefy hand and snatched up Jessie. The small girl matched his screams with heart-wrenching ones of her own.

"NO!" he cried, throwing himself at the man.

With a laugh that sent chills down his spine, the man backhanded him across the face with a force so strong that it knocked him back against the wall. He tasted blood. For a minute, he fought to remain conscious. Jessie's wails of terror gave him the will to open his eyes against the pain and dizziness.

The man was moving quickly away from the group of crying children, a firm grip on the kicking and screaming girl. With a desperation born of terror, he shook off someone's hands and launched himself after them. He moved so quickly that the guard could not stop him.

He grabbed at the man's jacket with a strength he didn't know he possessed, pulling him to a stop.

"Leave her alone! Leave her alone!" He began shouting obscenities at the man; words he had picked up on countless worlds, in countless schools, in countless languages. Some of the words he didn't even know the meaning of.

The man turned to look at him, listening stone-faced to the obscenities. After a minute, the man broke into laughter, joined by the other adults in the room. The laughter only served to make him angrier. Tears streamed down his face as he lashed out at the man, with words and with his fist.

Finally, the man quit laughing and shoved him to the floor, but he jumped right back up and continued the assault. Through the tears he didn't see the fist that hit him. It knocked him to the floor and he tried desperately to push himself up. He had to stop the man! He had to get up! But his body wouldn't obey. He continued to shout the obscenities through bloody lips. He heard the man order him to stop, but he continued, determined to fight in the only way left to him.

A sharp kick caught him in the ribs, causing him to scream in pain. The obscenities stopped as another blow caught him in the face and his mouth filled with blood. Darkness moved in determinedly. He fought in panic against it, knowing he was Jessie's only chance. He tried to scream but no sound came out. The last thing he heard as the darkness claimed him was Jessie's shrieks of terror. A sound he knew would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Julian opened his eyes with a start, then quickly squeezed them shut again. Oh, God, not the nightmares again! He couldn't take that! But he had known they would come. He had known it the minute Sisko had mentioned the Isphesnian peace talks.

He threw off the sweat soaked covers and climbed from the bed to pace the room. The last thing he wanted to do was go back to sleep. He knew the nightmares would return, as they would for many nights to come.

A quick check of the time showed it to be only 0240, but he was awake for the night. Making a quick decision, he headed for the shower. Within ten minutes, he was dressed and headed for the racquetball court Chief O'Brien had built.

Two hours later, he sank to the floor of the court, panting. He was exhausted and sore, but he didn't want to stop. If he stopped, the thoughts and memories would return. He closed his eyes tightly. He thought he had buried the memories deep enough that he would never have to face them again. Years of therapy had, he thought, put the nightmares behind him. But it had all come rushing back in force with the captain's announcement.

The day started out just like the one before it, and the one before that, and the one before that. There was nothing to indicate the horror that was coming. School, such as it was, had only been in session for about an hour and the small class was working on mathematics. Julian loved math. Something about the numbers intrigued and challenged him. He loved the way puzzles that appeared impossible would suddenly click into place, forming beautifully crafted works of art. As a result of his love, he was working much faster than the rest of the class, even Proctor, and he was fifteen - well, almost; although Jessica was close to catching him. She was smarter than he was, Julian admitted ruefully, but she became preoccupied too easily. She didn't have the drive to succeed that he had.

Julian also loved his teacher. Pre. Saraem was the youngest teacher he had ever had, and there had been many. Being the son of Starfleet's most requested diplomat meant many schools, many friends, many teachers; all of which were soon left behind as he moved to another home. But Pre. Saraem was his favorite. She was patient and funny and beautiful. But most importantly, at least to Julian, she was understanding. She had almost immediately recognized his need to work at his own pace and not be held back with the rest of the class. She managed to find new challenges for him everyday. For the first time in his ten short years, Julian was happy with his school and dreaded the day when he would be forced to leave.

Of course, it wasn't really a proper school. Most of the time he was able to attend a regular school on whatever planet his father was working on. This school was a special one for the children of the royal house. The Isphesnian children in the class were offspring of important people that his dad worked with. His eyes searched out and found Rava and Proctor, the Emperor's children; Tason, the son of the first Prefect; Tirault and Dredall, the daughters of Pre. Knedge, who was somebody important but Julian couldn't remember what she did. There were five other kids in the class, all children of various Parliament members. He, Jessica, Angus, and Stefan were the only off-worlders in the class, all human and all children of ambassadors working on the negotiations.

The first that Julian knew anything was wrong was when Pre. Saraem fell forward across her desk, blood spurting from a fist sized crater in her chest. Some of the kids screamed, but not many; most sat in silent horror at their tables. Within seconds the room filled with a dozen or so well armed men and women. Julian could hear shouts and blaster fire in the corridors outside the small room.

The soldiers - were they soldiers? he wondered - began snatching up the kids and pushing them toward the door, into the arms of more waiting soldiers. Shocked back to his senses by a whimper beside him, he looked over and saw Jessica, her dark eyes filled with terror.

"What's happening, Julian?" she asked in a voice that betrayed her fear.

"I don't know," he admitted, careful to keep his tone even. "Whatever happens, Jessie, stay close to me."

One of the soldiers grabbed him from behind and shoved him toward the door. "Move it," the man ordered.

Julian scrambled back toward Jessie. The man raised his hand to strike him and Julian flinched. Before the man could complete the move, Julian grabbed Jessica's hand, pulling her to him. She was shivering so he put his arm around her and spoke softly to her.

"It's going to be all right, Jessie. I won't let anything happen to you, I promise." The confidence in his voice seemed to appease the girl.

"If you don't get moving, something's going to happen to both of you," the soldier said menacingly. He punctuated the words with a shove in Julian's back.

Holding tightly to Jessica's hand, he shuffled toward the door and the waiting soldiers.

"Stay close, Jessie," he reminded the girl.

At the door, another soldier, a woman, snatched Jessica away from him and headed down the corridor.

"Julian!" Jessica cried.

He could hear the terror in her voice. Before he could decide what to do, he was roughly grabbed from behind by arms so massive they looked like tree trunks. He fought vainly against the arms with everything he had in him until he realized that he was being carried in the same direction as Jessica. His struggle subsided.

The children were carried out of the building and loaded into a waiting transport vehicle. The massive arms tossed Julian through the open hatch of the transport. He landed in a heap at Jessica's feet. She helped him up, clinging tightly to him in fear.

"That's the last of them," someone announced from the front of the vehicle.

A woman made her way slowly through the middle of the crying children, brandishing her weapon and demanding silence. Julian dropped to the floor as the woman approach, pulling Jessica down beside him. Her whimpers were growing louder.

"Hush," he said softly, but firmly. "Don't let them hear you cry."

Jessica attempted to stop crying, succeeding only in halting the audible sounds. The tears continued to fall. Julian drew her close and wrapped his arms tightly around her.

"It's going to be all right, Jessie." He spoke soothingly to the girl. "I promise."

Julian jumped back to his feet and slammed the ball against the far wall. Trying desperately to push the memories from his mind, he raced after the ball as it soared past him. Again and again he pounded the ball, each time with more force than the time before. At last, drained of energy, he sank to his knees in the middle of the court. This time he was too spent to fight the memories as they flooded in, taking over his senses. Tears rolled slowly down his face. They fell unheeded to splash on the cold hard floor. He crumbled into a sobbing, emotional heap, face down on the floor. Dimly thankful for the hour, knowing he had complete privacy, he released the emotions that he had kept such tight control of for so long.

"I'm sorry, Jessie," he whispered between sobs. "I'm sorry."

The sobs came hard and relentlessly until there were no tears left. He pulled himself into a tight ball and gasped for breath. Long minutes later, his breath slowed to a steady rhythm. He forced himself to his feet and headed for his quarters.

In the safety of his room he stripped and stepped into a shower cold enough to shock his senses back to normal. He toweled off, dressed in his uniform and, checking the mirror to make sure there was no evidence of his breakdown, he headed for the infirmary.

CHAPTER 3

Garak drummed his fingers absently on the countertop in his small clothing shop. There were no customers, for which he was grateful. He was in no mood to force a politeness he did not feel for the sake of a few strips of latnium. At last, reaching a difficult decision, he scurried to put away the few items he should have been working on and closed the door to his shop. He double checked the security codes and hurried across the Promenade to Quark's Bar.

A quick glance from the doorway disappointed him. Though this was the busiest time of the day for the bar, not one of the people he searched for appeared to be in the room. Well, he would just have to wait, he decided. Sooner or later, at least one of them was bound to come in.

Twenty minutes later, Garak was seated at the bar, trying politely to follow a long-winded story of Morn's, when he noticed Chief O'Brien enter the bar. The stocky Irishman made his way through the crowd to an empty table close to the stairs. Garak waited until the Chief placed his order with a fat Ferengi waiter then excused himself from Morn and made his way over to the table.

"Chief O'Brien," he began, "may I join you?"

O'Brien raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Is there a problem, Garak?"

The Cardassian smiled to himself. He knew of O'Brien's dislike of his race and normally wouldn't have forced himself on the man, but this was not normal circumstances. Without waiting for an invitation that may not have come, Garak sat down.

"I need to talk to you, Chief," he said. "It's about a mutual friend of ours."

The Ferengi waiter returned with O'Brien's drink. The human took a long sip before asking, "I assume you are talking about Julian?"

Garak nodded. "I wonder if you have noticed anything unusual about the doctor lately?"

O'Brien's eyes narrowed. "I've been pretty busy the last few days."

Preparing for the talks, Garak silently added.

"I haven't seen Julian in a couple of days. Why?"

"It's probably nothing, but Doctor Bashir hasn't seemed himself lately." Garak leaned across the table to emphasize his words. "He missed our weekly lunch date today."

O'Brien smiled an is-that-all smile. "Maybe he was busy or forgot."

"The thought crossed my mind as well, but in the three years we've been having lunch together, he hasn't missed one date without notifying me in advance."

"I'm sure there is a perfectly good excuse, Garak. Why don't you ask him?" The Chief sounded impatient.

Garak's smile turned to a frown. "Actually, I did just that. I went by the infirmary to see if there was a problem. He all but yelled at me. He said something about having more important things to do than entertain bored spies."

He could see now that he had the full attention of the human.

"That's not like Julian," O'Brien admitted.

"There's more," Garak continued. "He looks terrible. I don't think he's slept in days and I wouldn't be surprised if he's not eating either."

O'Brien leaned back in his chair, obviously contemplating the information.

Garak smiled and stood up. His mission was accomplished. "I simply wanted to alert you to the potential problem. I'm sure you can take it from here." With a slight bow, he turned and walked away.

O'Brien watched Garak disappear onto the Promenade with a frown. He didn't trust the tailor as far as he could throw him. He and Julian had never seen eye to eye about Garak. Julian insisted that the Cardassian meant him no harm, but O'Brien had never been fully convinced of that. Still, if Garak had seen fit to come to him with a concern about Julian, knowing how O'Brien felt about Cardassians, maybe something was wrong with Julian.

"Problem with the preparations, Chief?" Kira asked.

O'Brien looked up in surprise. He hadn't noticed Dax and Kira approaching. "Hmm? Oh, no. Everything is going according to schedule for a change."

The two women sat down and ordered drinks from the hovering Ferengi waiter. Dax turned back to the Chief. "You look like something's wrong."

"I just had a strange visit from Garak," he announced.

Kira's eyebrows lifted in surprise.

"Is his replicator out again?" Dax asked.

"Not like you're thinking. He wanted to ask me about Julian."

Dax's look grew concerned. "What about Julian?"

"According to Garak, Julian's been acting strangely the past few days."

"I haven't noticed anything out of the ordinary," Kira frowned.

"You've been pretty busy with all of the preparations for the talks," Dax said. "Have you even seen Julian?"

"A couple of times," Kira answered defensively. "But I guess I was too busy to notice. What exactly did Garak say?"

"Well, he said that Julian missed their luncheon date today and when he asked him about it, Julian exploded at him. Said he was too busy to be bothered with it. Garak also said that Julian looked awful."

"I did notice that Julian looked a little tired yesterday," said Dax. "Maybe there's a problem in the infirmary."

"I'm sure that's all it is," Kira said. "As for yelling at Garak, maybe he's finally come to his senses. Maybe he's tired of being pumped for information."

"You know what really bothers me?" asked O'Brien. "How come Garak noticed Julian wasn't himself and we didn't?"

"Well, we have been busy with the preparations for the talks," Kira pointed out.

"But we're his friends," O'Brien objected. "It irritates me that Garak had to tell me something is wrong with Julian."

"Maybe I should go talk to him," Dax suggested.

O'Brien glanced at the chronometer. "He's suppose to meet me here in a few minutes for our darts game."

"I'll just wait, then."

One hour and three drinks later, they were still waiting.

Finally, O'Brien said, "I guess I've been stood up."

"Surely Julian wouldn't forget," Dax protested.

"Maybe he was delayed by an emergency," Kira suggested.

"That will be easy enough to check." Dax tapped her comm badge. "Computer, locate Doctor Bashir."

The toneless female voice replied instantly. "Doctor Bashir is currently in his quarters."

"I guess he did forget," O'Brien said.

"That's not like Julian." Dax was concerned. "Maybe something is wrong." She pushed back her chair and stood. "I think I'll pay him a visit."

The children were unloaded from the transport into what Julian thought was a cargo hold or a warehouse. He thought they were still on Isphesne, but he couldn't be sure. The trip had been so long!

Inside the room, the children were herded into a tight group against one of the walls. Jessica still clung tightly to him. Her tears had stopped, but she trembled still.

"You might as well get comfortable," one of the soldiers shouted. "You will probably be here for quite a while. 'Course, how long depends on your parents."

The children sat down along the wall, huddling close to draw some measure of comfort from one another. Most of the crying had stopped, although Julian could hear some of the younger kids still sniffling. From the corner of his eye, he saw Proctor pull Stefan, the youngest, onto his lap and attempt to settle him down. Rava edged closer to her brother and laid her head against his shoulder.

Julian bit back the tears that filled his eyes and threatened to spill over. He was too old to cry. Besides, what good would it do? But he couldn't push the image of Pre. Saraem from his mind. He knew she was dead, probably had been the instant she fell.

Julian closed his eyes and forced his mind to other subjects. What did the soldiers want? He was old enough to realize that they were being held hostage, which meant that there would be demands made for their release. Whatever the demands were, they would be met, Julian was sure. His dad wouldn't let anything happen to them. He would meet the demands, or if that was impossible, he would find a way to rescue them. His dad was smarter than any kidnappers. He could outwit them. It was just a matter of time.

"Which ones of you belong to the Emperor?" demanded the woman from the transport.

When no one answered, she waved her weapon and repeated the question.

Finally, Proctor set Stefan aside and stood. "I am Proctor, son of Martan, heir to the throne of Isphesne." He announced himself calmly, with as much dignity as he could muster.

The woman laughed at the declaration. "Who else? I know there is one more, a girl."

Slowly, Rava stood beside her brother. Her hand trembled as she reached for his.

"All right," the woman said with a smile of satisfaction. She turned to a massive man beside her, the same one that had carried Julian to the transport, and spoke. "Leave those two for last, Thurl. Any of the others will do."

The man sneered cruelly and moved closer to the children. Julian instinctively pulled Jessica closer. Thurl reached for the closest child and hauled him to his feet. Julian watched in horror as the man wrapped his massive arm around the boy's neck and, before the child could even scream, wrenched his head to the side, snapping the delicate bones of the neck with a sickening sound.

"Damn, Thurl," the woman said. "Did you have to do that right here? Next time go over there, will you?" She pointed across the room.

Julian's heart had stopped in terror. He took a deep breath and willed it to beat again. Tears fell now, unnoticed. He heard a cry beside him and realized he had dug his fingernails into Jessica's arms. He loosened his grasp but did not let go.

He was vaguely aware of Proctor's panicked expression as the boy dropped to the floor in stunned silence, pulling a paralyzed Rava beside him. Not one of the children made a sound. All cried silently, but were too terrified to make a noise.

"Take the body to Jarrin," the woman ordered Thurl. "It's to be delivered with the message. Tell them, one every two hours. Maybe that will light a fire under them."

She turned back to the huddled group of terrified children. "You better hope your papas take us seriously."

Julian heard the door chime, drawing him back to the present. He chose to ignore it. He didn't want company. He wanted to be left alone. The chime sounded again. Damn! It rang one more time before he relented and called, "Come in."

The door slid softly to the side and he heard someone step in. In the darkness, he rubbed at the tears streaming down his face.

"Aren't you going to turn up the lights?" Dax's voice asked.

"No," he said softly.

He heard her make her way slowly across the room toward the couch on which he sat, uttering a soft oath as she stumbled against a piece of furniture.

"I can't see where you are."

"I'm not really in the mood for company tonight, Jadzia. Did you need something?"

He heard the surprise in her voice as she answered. "Julian, is something wrong?" She found the couch at last and dropped down beside him.

"I'm fine."

"You were supposed to meet Chief O'Brien for darts an hour ago."

"I forgot." He felt a twinge of guilt. "Tell him I'm sorry."

"You could tell him yourself. He's still in Quark's. It's not too late for a game."

He shook his head, then realized she couldn't see it in the darkness. "I'm really tired. I'd rather just get to bed early." His voice broke slightly and he prayed Dax hadn't caught it.

"Julian?" She had heard.

"I'm just tired."

"Computer, raise the lights."

To his horror the lights in the room came on instantaneously. He jumped to his feet and strode to the small window, careful to keep his back to the Trill. "Damn it, Jadzia, all I want is a little privacy. Is that too much to ask?"

He heard her sharp intake of breath and knew his outburst had shocked her, but he didn't care. He didn't hear her come up behind him. He didn't know she was there until she took his arm and pulled him around to face her.

Dax was shocked at Julian's appearance, more shocked than she was by his attitude. He had dark shadows beneath his eyes as though he hadn't slept in days. Exhaustion was written all over his face and she wondered if it was physical or emotional. Most shocking of all were the tears that glistened on his face.

"Julian, what's wrong?"

He snatched his arm away with a force that surprised her and turned back to the view of the stars. "I think you should leave now," he said tonelessly.

Dax stepped back in surprise, then took a deep breath and tried again. "Julian, if you have a problem, you know you can talk to me."

He spoke without turning and the vehemence in his voice worried her. "If I had a problem, which I don't, you are the last person I would turn to." He turned, then, to face her. She expected to see anger in his eyes but was surprised to see, instead, fear and pain. "Do you think I don't know how you think of me? You treat me like a joke. When you need something from me, you're all sweetness and light. The rest of the time, you treat me like a rug to wipe your feet on. You've lived so many lifetimes that you've forgotten how to feel. You've used up all of your emotions and you've nothing left for anyone you consider inferior, and you consider all single lifetime creatures inferior. I'm tired of being used by you, Jadzia!" By the time he finished, he was yelling.

Dax stared in stunned silence for a long moment. If she hadn't seen his mouth move she never would have believed the words came from Julian.

"You know that's not true. I care about you, Julian. I would never use you."

"You're not welcome here anymore!" he shouted. "Go find another lap dog, Jadzia."

Dax took a couple of steps backward, her eyes never leaving his face. She searched desperately for some sign that he didn't mean the hurtful words she heard, but found none. Emotions rushed through her and she latched on to the strongest one.

"I have never felt like that about you, Julian," she spit out in anger. "But if you see it that way, then it proves what I thought about you the first time I met you; you are an immature, spoiled little boy."

Julian laughed. The sound sent shivers down her spine.

"If immature means that I haven't lived long enough to become a cold, cynical shell of a person, then I'll take it as a compliment."

Dax turned and rushed out the door, not trusting herself to respond. She ran down the deserted corridor, not stopping until she reached the turbolift. Wiping away a tear, she stepped inside, then changing her mind, she headed for Benjamin's quarters.

Her old friend answered the door on the first chime. Sisko took in her appearance in one quick glance. "What's wrong, old man?"

Dax pushed past Sisko and began pacing the room in long, angry strides.

Sisko watched from a safe distance, recognizing her expression. He knew she was attempting to calm down before answering his question. Finally, she stopped pacing and turned to face him.

"I feel like I was just kicked in the stomach," she announced.

Sisko crossed the room to stand before her. "What happened?"

Dax took a deep breath and visibly gathered herself. "Garak expressed some concern about Julian's state of mind, so I went to see him." She shook her head in what Sisko interpreted as exasperation. "He threw me out!"

"What?!"

"He threw me out!" The shock in her voice matched the expression on her face. "Garak was right. Something is wrong with Julian. I've never seen him like that. He looked awful, like he hasn't slept in days. When I got there he was sitting in the dark - crying! When I asked him if he wanted to talk about it, he exploded."

"What did he say?"

"A lot of unflattering things about me. He accused me of using him. He said I was a cold, unfeeling shell of a person that had long ago lost the ability to care." She resumed her pacing.

"You know he didn't mean it," Sisko said gently. "I'm sure he was angry about something else and only took it out on you because he knows you are a good friend that would understand."

Dax stopped and looked at Sisko. "I thought so at first, Benjamin. But you didn't see the expression in his eyes. The things Julian said were deliberately calculated to be hurtful. Looking back now, I think that he wanted to make me mad enough to go away and leave him alone."

Concern began to show in Sisko's eyes. "Has something happened? Maybe bad news from home?"

Dax tossed her hands in frustration. "I have no idea. We've all been so busy lately with the preparations for the summit that, frankly, no one but Garak noticed that Julian was not himself."

Sisko's eyes grew dark as a thought came to him. "Did Garak say how long the doctor has been acting strangely?"

"I didn't actually talk to him myself. He went to Chief O'Brien with his concerns. A few days I think. Why?"

"It's been three days since I made the announcement about the Isphesnian peace talks being held here."

Dax's expression said she didn't understand.

"I thought at the time that the news meant something to him," Sisko explained. "He seemed agitated. I wondered then if he knew something about the original talks."

Dax frowned, thinking back to the meeting. "But he denied it," she remembered.

"What if he lied?" Sisko speculated.

"Julian wouldn't do that," Dax protested.

Sisko raised his eyebrows. "Maybe you don't know him as well as you thought you did."

Dax sank slowly into a nearby chair. "Maybe I don't." She thought for a minute, then shook her head sharply. "No, that's not it. Something has happened to change Julian, something within the past few days." She met Sisko's eyes as he sat on the couch across from her. "Maybe it was the announcement about the talks."

Sisko ran his hand across the top of his head. "Was Curzon involved in the original talks in any way?"

Dax shook her head. "The negotiations with the Tarrentians were going on at the same time. Curzon was pretty busy with that."

Sisko leaned back and studied the floor for a minute. "Do you think that Doctor Bashir's father could have been involved in the talks?"

Dax looked startled at the suggestion. "According to the report that I saw the talks were mediated by Valerian Wescott. The same Wescott that is coming tomorrow to mediate these talks. Do you know him?"

"We've met a couple of times."

"Curzon worked with him a few times. The first time was after the Isphesnian talks broke down. He was sent to Tarrent to help with the negotiations there." Her forehead creased in thought. "I seem to remember that at the time he was very inexperienced; he was only about twenty five or so. I don't see how he could have been the sole mediator for the Isphesnian talks."

"Maybe he was working with someone else."

"Like Ambassador Bashir?"

"Is it possible?"

She carefully considered the question. "It would explain a lot, but why would his name have been left off of the official records?"

"I can think of only three people that can answer that: Ambassador Bashir, his son, and Wescott."

"Well, I don't want to be the one to ask Julian," she informed him with a slight smile.

"And since I have no idea where his father is at the moment, that leaves Wescott."

"When is he arriving?"

"1100, tomorrow."

Dax nodded and stood. She turning to leave, but stopped short of the door. Facing Sisko again, she asked, "Do you think I use Julian?"

Sisko walked across to her and placed his hands firmly on her slim shoulders. "Of course not. You can't take anything he says personally, Jadzia. I'm sure he didn't really mean it. You watch, he'll probably show up at your door first thing in the morning full of apologies and suitably repentant."

Dax nodded but didn't look convinced. "I wish you had heard him, Benjamin. I never would have dreamed Julian would have had such hurtful words in him." She straightened and smiled. "But I'm sure you're right. Thanks. Kira and O'Brien are waiting for me in Quark's. Goodnight."

CHAPTER 4

Sisko paused outside of the infirmary, reluctant to enter. This was one of the few areas of command that made him feel inadequate, but he felt it necessary to at least talk to Doctor Bashir. Maybe the young man would be more willing to discuss whatever was bothering him with a man than with Dax. At any rate, Bashir had to be called down for his attitude with Dax last night. A quick check with the Trill proved Sisko's theory had been wrong. The morning was half over and Bashir had made no effort to apologize yet.

Taking a deep breath, Sisko stepped into the room and scanned it for the doctor. Bashir was no where to be seen. Sisko was about to consult the computer, when Nurse Jabara entered from one of the back rooms.

Jabara saw the Captain and smiled. "Can I help you, Captain Sisko?"

"I was looking for Doctor Bashir," he said, returning the smile.

The Bajoran's smile faltered for a moment. "He's in his office, but..." She hesitated, glancing toward the office with troubled eyes. "He's working on some important research."

Sisko narrowed his eyes at the nurse. She was obviously trying to diplomatically ask him not to disturb Bashir. He crossed to the woman. "Jabara, I need to ask you something, and I want you to answer freely." He saw the caution cross her face. "A few of the doctor's friends have expressed concern that he has not been himself lately. Have you noticed anything in his behavior that might indicate a problem?"

Indecision replaced the caution in her expression. Sisko knew that Bashir's staff was fiercely loyal to the doctor, but he could also sense the concern for Bashir in his nurse.

Finally, she said, "Doctor Bashir has been somewhat stressed the past couple of days, but all doctors have spells like that from time to time." Her smile returned. "Some that I've worked with stay that way. But you have to understand the tremendous amount of pressure that they work under. Being the only doctor on this station, with no one to turn to for assistance, Doctor Bashir faces more stress than most other physicians."

Sisko allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction. Bashir obviously had this woman's complete loyalty. She sounded almost protective of the young man. "Thank you, Jabara. I can see Bashir has chosen his staff well."

Sisko turned toward the office but the nurse stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Sir, if he hasn't been himself lately, I'm sure he has good reason, and it hasn't affected his work in the least bit."

"I'm sure you're right." He took notice of her worried expression as he headed for the doctor's office. The door slid open at his approach and he saw Bashir's back as he leaned over a computer monitor.

The doctor spoke without turning. "I told you I didn't want to be disturbed!" he all but shouted.

Sisko was taken aback by the doctor's tone. "Does that include your commanding officer?"

Bashir spun around. At least, he had to good grace to look embarrassed, Sisko noted.

"Captain, I'm sorry. I thought you were Jabara."

"Do you always talk to your nurses like that?" Sisko asked, taking a seat. He looked closely at the young man. Dax was right. Bashir looked like hell. His handsome face was drawn and gaunt, with dark shadows beneath haunted eyes.

"No, of course not," Bashir said, running a hand through his hair. "I was just preoccupied."

"From what I hear, you've been preoccupied quite a bit lately."

"Is that why you're here?"

"Dax showed up at my door last night after you threw her out. She was more upset than I've seen her in a long time. Whatever you said hurt her a great deal."

A flash of pain showed briefly in Bashir's eyes, but disappeared so quickly, Sisko wondered if he had imagined it. "With all due respect, sir, what transpired between Dax and myself in my quarters is our business."

Sisko straightened, a sure sign that he was irritated. The move was wasted on Bashir. "It became my business when my friend showed up on my doorstep in tears."

"Are you here as Dax's friend or as my commanding officer?"

Sisko rose and leaned over Bashir's desk, a formidable presence that would have intimidated anyone else. Bashir met his eyes without flinching. "I'm here as Dax's friend - who also happens to be your commanding officer." His voice was a bit louder than he wanted it. He lowered it, not wanting any of Bashir's staff to overhear. "I think it has become obvious to a lot of people over the past few days that you have a problem and that problem is affecting your behavior. But I suggest you come to grips with it and get over it. I will not have you callously throwing your opinions around to hurt whomever gets in the way. The morale of this station's personnel is a prime concern to me and, as medical officer, should be to you as well. If you cannot get your personal life under control, than I suggest you request a leave of absence until you can. Am I understood?"

For a long moment Bashir stared without comment. When he spoke, his tone was cold and forced. "Understood...sir."

Sisko met the young man's gaze for another tension-filled minute before turning on his heel and striding quickly from the infirmary.

Sisko entered OPS visibly seething. He headed across the room without a word to anyone, entered his office and let the door slide shut behind him. He had barely taken his seat when the chime at the door sounded.

Knowing who it was, he sighed and called, "Come in, old man."

Dax stopped just inside the door, as if threatened by his dark mood. Sisko knew better. It took a lot more that a sour mood to threaten Dax.

"Is there a problem?" she probed.

Sisko grabbed up the baseball from it's stand on the desk before him. He rolled it in his fingers for several long minutes before speaking. "I just paid a visit to Doctor Bashir."

Dax nodded in understanding and moved forward to take a seat in front of the desk. "I see. I take it his mood has not improved since last night."

Sisko replaced the ball and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desktop. "He told me to mind my own business."

Dax gasped in surprise.

"His tone with me was just short of insubordination. I don't think he knows how close he is to being put on report."

"Benjamin, something's wrong. That's not like Julian, you know that."

"I don't care what his problem is, there is no excuse for his behavior. I cannot have one of my senior officers verbally attacking everyone around him."

"Did he say anything that might shed light on what's eating him?"

Sisko frowned. "I didn't really give him a chance." He steepled his fingers and stared around them at his old friend. "He made me angry almost as soon as I entered his office and I laid into him."

"He did the same thing with me, last night," Dax observed. "He cut us off before we could probe into his problem."

"You think it was a calculated move?"

"It certainly looks that way. He doesn't want to take a chance that anyone might discover whatever is bothering him, so he's pushing away everyone close to him."

Sisko considered the theory. It made sense. It was certainly easier than believing his CMO had snapped. "But why would he hide the problem? Why wouldn't he come to one of us with it?"

"Maybe he isn't ready to talk about it yet. I think we should give him some time, let him come to grips with whatever it is. We should let him know we'll be there when he is ready to discuss it."

"I wish we could, old man," Sisko sighed. "But if my suspicions are correct and this has something to do with the peace talks, whether he's ready or willing to talk about it, or not, we can't let it rest."

Kira's voice broke in over Sisko's comm badge. "Captain, the Amity has contacted us. They will arrive in ten minutes."

Sisko exited his office into OPS, followed by Dax.

At his unspoken question, Kira announced, "Docking bay six."

The Captain nodded in acknowledgment. "The Ambassador has requested no special pains on his account, which I assume to mean we can forgo the formal uniforms for this meeting."

"I like him already," Kira said smiling.

"Notify Odo. Major, Dax, O'Brien, you're with me."

Sisko was half-way to the turbolift when Kira's voice stopped him. "What about Doctor Bashir?"

Sisko answered without turning. "I think I'll let him skip this one, Major."

Odo was waiting at the airlock when the other officers arrived. Kira was still puzzled by Sisko's decision not to have Bashir join them. Protocol demanded that all of the senior officers be on hand for the arrival of certain dignitaries. Sisko always followed protocol - well, almost always. She wondered briefly if it had something to do with what Dax had said last night upon returning from Bashir's quarters. Was Sisko punishing Bashir?

She glanced over at O'Brien and knew he was thinking along the same line. A twist of pity for the Irishman coursed through her. He considered Bashir a friend and yet he had been so busy with the preparations for the conference that he had not even had time to notice there was a problem, much less try to confront Bashir about it.

Kira straightened her shoulders, suddenly glad that she had little time or energy for close friendships. Too many complications, too much effort. It was seldom worth it, she decided. Glancing at Dax's worried face, she repeated the sentiment. She wanted no part of any friendship that caused as much pain as Dax was obviously feeling, had felt last night.

The grinding of the airlock door rolling open drew the attention of the assembled officers. Two men, presumably security, stepped through, followed closely by a tall, strongly built man, obviously the Ambassador. The man stepped forward and extended his hand to Sisko.

"Benjamin, how good to see you again."

Sisko accepted the handshake. "I'm surprised you remember me, Ambassador Wescott."

"Please, it's Valerian. Remember you? How could I forget anyone that plays poker like you do?" The big man's laughter boomed through the corridor. "The stories you told while we played made losing almost a pleasure."

"Welcome to Deep Space Nine, Valerian." He turned to his staff, but before he could begin introductions, Wescott spoke.

"We've met before, haven't we?" He had stepped forward to stand before Dax.

She smiled up at him in pleasant surprise. "Jadzia Dax, formally Curzon Dax. But how did you know?"

Wescott took her hand between both of his. "One-fourth Betazoid. It's not much but occasionally it rears it's arduous head. That's one of the few things about me that Curzon never knew." He took in her new form with one swift glance. "I guess I don't need to tell you that this is a definite improvement." He studied her face with suddenly concerned eyes. "Is something wrong?"

Dax's smile faded quickly. "We can discuss it later, Valerian."

He nodded in understanding. "I'll look forward to it."

Sisko quickly made the rest of the introductions. Wescott acknowledged each gracefully, then turned to Sisko. "I expected Julian would be on hand to greet me."

Sisko's eyes widened in surprise. "I wasn't aware that you knew Doctor Bashir."

The Ambassador's smile saddened briefly. "Didn't he mention it?"

"I'm afraid not. However, he's been...preoccupied lately."

"Since the announcement of the talks coming to your station?" Though it was phrased as a question, Sisko suspected Wescott already knew the answer.

It was Dax that answered. "As a matter of fact, yes. Is there something we should know?"

Wescott's eyes grew sad. "It is not something that I am free to discuss. I am bound by my oath to silence. Just be patient with young Julian. He has been forced by circumstances beyond his control to face demons he thought long buried."

Sisko wanted to press the matter, question Wescott further, but now was not the time or place. "I'm sure you are tired, Ambassador," he said, "and would like to freshen up. I'll show you to your quarters."

Dismissing his staff, Sisko led the way toward the habitat ring.

"I'm afraid these are the best we can offer," he said, entering the Ambassador's quarters. "We're not really set up for this sort of thing."

"This will do nicely," Wescott assured him. "I realize this is a major inconvenience for you and your people, Benjamin, but the choice of your station was entirely out of the Federation's hands."

Sisko raised his eyebrows in surprise.

Wescott chuckled. "Believe me, I tried to talk the Isphesnian delegation into any of a number of other locations. Locations more convenient and more easily secured. But the Empress insisted that the talks be held here."

"Do you know why?"

"I have my suspicions, but, no, I don't know for sure."

"Well, we have done our best to assure the safety of all involved. Constable Odo will be available as soon as you are rested to go over the security precautions with you."

"That will be fine." Wescott walked across the spacious room. There was obviously something more he wanted to say. Turning back to face Sisko, he said, "I wonder if perhaps you and your staff would join me for dinner tonight?"

"Of course," said Sisko. "We could have planned a proper reception, but I was under the impression you preferred to skip the formalities."

"No, no. You are correct." Wescott assured him. "It's just that I prefer to discuss the agenda over a casual meal with old friends."

Sisko nodded. He had a feeling that the agenda was not what was on the Ambassador's mind. The suspicion was confirmed with Wescott's next words.

"I would really like to see Julian there."

"Of course. If you would care to see him sooner, I can take you to the infirmary."

"That won't be necessary, Benjamin. Tonight will be fine."

Sisko took a deep breath and broached the subject foremost on his mind at the moment. "You mentioned something about Julian's demons before."

A cloud passed over the Ambassador's face. "I'm sorry, Benjamin, I can't tell you more than I have."

"In the past three days, Doctor Bashir has gone from a personable, charming young man to a bitter, angry man that not even his closest friends recognize. This morning he came very close to being written up for insubordination. So, if you know something that could help me help him, I need to know what that is."

Wescott let out a deep breath and dropped into the closest chair. "I'm afraid there is nothing any of us can do to help him, Benjamin. No one, except maybe..." He shook his head, dismissing the thought. "He has been running from these demons his whole adult life and until he faces them down and puts them behind him once and for all, there is no help for him. All we can do is be there for him when he is ready."

Sisko shook his head in frustration. Why wouldn't someone tell him what the hell was going on? He glared at Wescott, silently willing the man to say something helpful.

"I'm sorry. I gave my oath."

"To whom?" Sisko demanded.

Wescott clasped his hands in his lap and studied them. He seemed to be considering how much he could safely say. Finally, "I think if you carefully consider the information you have, you can figure that out."

Sisko turned to the window, staring silently at the stars beyond. What information did he have? His thoughts went back to what Dax had said earlier, that Wescott had been a young, inexperienced man twenty years ago.

"I know that you couldn't have conducted the original talks alone," he said, turning.

Wescott nodded, but remained silent.

"Was Ambassador Bashir involved?"

"I can't answer that."

Sisko smiled. "The fact that you can't tells me he was."

Wescott rose, signaling an end to the game. "The rest will have to come from Julian, I'm afraid."

"If he decides to confide in anyone."

Wescott nodded, conceding the point. "Be patient with him, Benjamin. This will soon be behind us all."

Sisko suddenly realized there were shadows in Wescott's own eyes. Whatever the secret, this man was affected by it as well.

"I'll have Major Kira take care of the dinner plans and notify you of the details."

"Thank you," Wescott said, leading the way to the door. "I'll see you then."

Julian's legs had fallen asleep long ago, but he didn't dare move. Jessica had finally fallen asleep, her head in his lap. He couldn't bring himself to risk waking her, even to restore the circulation in his legs. Most of the children were sleeping. He envied them their ability to shut out the horror around them. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Pre. Saraem, laying across her desk, blood flowing from the hole in her chest, in rivers, dark and red, across their test papers, down the sides of the desk and puddling on the floor. Or he saw Vircen, the terror in his eyes as Thurl calmly snapped his neck. Or Desphe, or Tason.

Julian jerked his eyes open with a start. He shook his head to drive away the sleep. He couldn't allow himself to sleep. He looked around and caught Proctor's eye, an eye that was swollen and bruised. Proctor had attempted, in vain, to stop the soldiers when they had come for another child. The older boy forced a smile. Stefan lay across his lap, Rava, against his shoulder, both sleeping.

"It will be all right," he assured Julian softly. "We have to be strong for the younger children."

"My dad will come. He won't let anything happen to us." The confidence he felt was strong in his voice.

Proctor smiled and nodded, but Julian saw the doubt in his eyes.

He will come, Julian argued silently. He would come and he would save them all. His dad wouldn't let anything happen to them.

But something had already happened to them. Three of his classmates, his friends, were dead. Where was his dad? Why hadn't he come to save them yet?

Julian's stomach growled. They had been given water a couple of times and taken to the bathroom, but no one had seen fit to feed them.

Across the room, the door opened and Thurl walked in. Julian's stomach twisted painfully. He caught his breath and held it. As the man drew closer, Julian squeezed his eyes shut and prayed to God with all of his might.

A startled cry opened his eyes against his will. He didn't want to know who it was; he didn't want to see it happen. But he couldn't tear his eyes from the big man as he dragged the suddenly paralyzed child behind him. He couldn't tear his eyes away as the man wrapped his arm around Curros' neck and gave it a savage jerk. At last, his eyes obeyed his order to close. But that did nothing to block out the sound of the boy's last scream, cut off by the seemingly louder sound of the bones snapping.

Julian squeezed his eyes tighter, trying to stop the sudden flow of tears. A stirring against his sleep-numbed legs forced his eyes open again. He was relieved to see that Curros' body was gone.

Jessica sat up, noticing his tears. "What's wrong, Julian?"

He didn't answer. What could he say? Wasn't Jessica scared enough?

The girl glanced around the area. Most of the children were awake now. The crying had started again. "Where is Curros?" Jessica asked. She searched for the boy's face desperately. "Where is he, Julian?"

Julian met her eyes, trying to force his heart from his throat so he could speak. "They took him, Jessie." It was all he could say.

Jessica pulled herself into a tight ball, but surprisingly, she did not cry. Maybe she didn't have any tears left, Julian thought. He put his arms around her. Even her trembling had stopped. Was she numb to everything?

"We'll be all right, Jessie." The doubt in his voice surprised even him, but he continued anyhow. "He will come."

Julian stared into the eyes of the man in the photograph, willing them to reveal something, anything. But just like every time before, he was disappointed.

"Why didn't you come, Father?" he whispered to the man in the picture, knowing he would get no answer. "I promised Jessie you would save her. She died believing I was a liar."

In a sudden burst of anger, Julian ripped the photo in half. The action felt good so he ripped it again, and again. When he calmed down enough to stop, all that remained of the man's image was a pile of shredded fragments on the floor. Julian watched in abstract detachment as a teardrop splashed in the center of the pile.

With a heavy sigh, he stepped over the fragments and went into the bathroom to wash his face. If he didn't hurry, he suddenly realized, he would be late for the dinner; not that he really cared, but Captain Sisko had made it an order and he had pushed the man's patience to the limit already today. Hell, he had pushed everyone to the limit lately. Some, maybe, past the limit, he admitted with a sigh of regret.

He toweled his face dry and caught sight of its reflection in the mirror. God! Who was that man? He barely recognized himself. His face was thinner than he could ever remember it being and there were shadows beneath his eyes, but the shadows paled in comparison to the dark, haunted expression in the eyes themselves.

He had to have some sleep; he couldn't go on like this, afraid to close his eyes for fear of the nightmares. Tonight, he decided, he would risk a sedative, one strong enough to ensure a sound, dreamless sleep.

CHAPTER 5

Dax, Kira, and O'Brien were standing near the head of a beautifully set table when Julian entered the room. Kira looked up and frowned when she caught sight of him. Some unreadable emotion flashed briefly across the Bajoran's features. Julian turned away.

A quick glance around the room showed that Captain Sisko had not yet arrived; nor had Odo or the Federation Ambassador. He allowed himself a small sigh of relief. At least, he wouldn't be reprimanded for being late.

"I much prefer the dinner table to the bargaining table, don't you?"

Julian started at the voice at his elbow. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw a tall, heavily muscled man grinning at him in open pleasure. Something about the man seemed familiar. His tired mind raced, trying to place where he knew him from. Suddenly, the information clicked into place.

"Ambassador Wescott?"

"Julian!" There was genuine warmth in the man's deep voice. "All grown up, but I would have known you anywhere. You are the spitting image of your father when I first met him."

A cloud descended over Julian's features. He clearly remembered the first meeting between the two men. It had been shortly after Wescott's arrival on Isphesne to assist his father in the negotiations.

Wescott noticed the cloud. "All these years and it still haunts you, doesn't it, my boy?"

Julian turned his head away from the pity in the voice. He didn't want to be patronized with pity and false understanding from people that couldn't possibly know how he was feeling. His eye caught Dax, coming toward them and he swore softly, not noticing Wescott's raised eyebrow at the oath.

Dax smiled uncertainly at Julian. A flash of guilt coursed through him as he remembered the pain in that same face last night.

"You look delightful, old friend," Wescott said approvingly. "If only you had looked like this all those years ago when I was available - and young."

Dax turned a dazzling smile on the Ambassador. "From what I remember, Valerian, you wouldn't have noticed anyway. I seem to recall that you only had eyes for a certain Tarrentian reporter."

Wescott laughed, a deep, booming sound that filled the room. "You recall right. I married that reporter."

"No wonder you seem so content." Dax joined in the laughter. "You didn't bring her here with you?"

Wescott's smile faded and he glanced toward Julian. "No, she remained on Earth - with our daughter."

Julian's head lifted slightly at the news.

"I didn't know you had a child," Dax said. "How old is she?"

Wescott nodded, not taking his eyes from Julian. "She'll be ten next month. Her name is Luba."

Anger coursed through Julian. Wescott had a daughter, ten years old. The same age as Jessie when...He couldn't complete the thought. Jessie would be forever ten.

Wescott placed his hand on Julian's arm. "Julian, since I became a father, I have gained some small measure of understanding for what you all must have gone through."

Julian turned angry eyes to the Ambassador, vaguely aware of Dax's penetrating stare. "At least you had the good sense not to bring your family into the lion's den."

A sad expression crossed Wescott's face. "Your father never would have taken you with him if he had even so much as suspected there would be trouble. You have to believe that."

Julian stared at the man in barely masked fury. How dare he defend his father to him! What did he know of the man? Knowing he was about to say something he shouldn't, he turned on his heel and left.

Dax watched Julian walk away with a heavy sigh. "Why would that make him so angry?" she asked.

"It brings back painful memories," Wescott said sadly.

"Memories of Isphesne?"

"You'll have to ask him that," the Ambassador stated simply. He met Dax's gaze. "Jadzia, how close are you and Julian?"

Dax's mouth twisted into a frown. "Until yesterday, I thought we were very good friends, but lately Julian has been pushing away everyone close to him, shutting us out of whatever he's going through."

"Julian is in pain, old friend. He's pushing all of you away because he doesn't want to confront that pain; he wants to hide from it, pretend it can't touch him. If he shares it with anyone, then he will be forced to face it in all its ugliness." He shook his head sadly. "It's been nigh on to twenty years now and, to the best of my knowledge, he has never discussed it with anyone."

"I don't understand why you can't tell us yourself. You obviously know. Surely, if we knew, we could help him."

"I only know bits and pieces. I'm not sure if anyone knows the whole story. But I'm sworn to silence, old friend, and I take my word very seriously."

Dax grew silent, considering the information. To whom had Wescott sworn his silence? Somehow she didn't think it would help to ask him. He was so damned closemouthed! If only he would tell her what was wrong with Julian, maybe she could help him. She looked across the room to where Julian had taken his place at the table. She had to find a way to help him - whether he wanted the help or not.

Intentionally or not, Bashir's sullen mood had dampened the spirits of those around him. Small talk continued around the doctor, but after a few attempts to include him in the talk failed miserably, no one seemed willing to try again.

Sisko frowned in the doctor's direction. He had about lost his patience where Bashir's attitude was concerned, but he forced himself to remember Wescott's pleas to give the young man time. How much more time he was willing to give him, Sisko had no idea. Shaking away the thoughts, he turned back to the conversation to his left.

"I never knew that Curzon was aware of my...late night escapades," Wescott was saying. A mischievous smile lit his handsome features.

"Curzon was aware of a lot of things," Dax informed him mysteriously. "You'd be surprised at how little escaped his attention."

A spot of red crept into prominence on the Ambassador's face. Sisko found himself wondering just what those escapades entailed.

"Well, then, it's a good thing that Jadzia has the good grace to feign ignorance," Wescott said hopefully.

Laughter erupted at the table - from everyone except Bashir, Sisko noticed from the corner of his eye.

"Wait a minute," O'Brien protested. "I want to hear about those 'escapades'."

"Well," Dax said, with a wink to Wescott, "you won't hear about them from me. I'm too much of a lady to carry these tales."

The admission brought more laughter. Wescott apparently noticed Julian's lack of participation and directed a comment in his direction.

"I imagine that your father could top even Jadzia's stories, Julian."

"Perhaps."

Wescott frowned. Hardly a response. "Did he ever tell you the story about the mix-up at the cleansing ceremonies on Denerab Prime?"

"No." The tone was soft, non-committal.

Wescott sighed. "Perhaps another time." He paused and tried again. "I haven't seen Jonathan in a while. How is he?"

Julian finally raised his eyes and met the Ambassador's gaze. "You would be in a better position to know that than I would."

The coldness in his voice surprised Sisko as much as the words, and as much as Ambassador Wescott's response. He met Julian's gaze and nodded. "I guess I really expected as much."

Awkward silence followed. No one seemed willing to break it until Wescott turned back to Bashir. "I never got a chance to congratulate you on your success in medical school and your posting here, Julian. I hear there were a number of hospitals and starships courting your consideration. In fact, I heard just recently that Admiral Jennison had filed a personal request with Starfleet headquarters for you to be posted to Starbase 61. I was told he threw a royal temper tantrum when you chose Deep Space Nine instead. I don't think anyone has ever turned him down before."

Every eye at the table glanced at the Ambassador in surprise. Sisko looked at the doctor as though seeing him for the first time. He had known that Bashir had graduated second in his class and, as a result, had had his choice of postings. But, perhaps, he had taken those skills for granted. Admiral Jennison had a reputation for surrounding himself with only the brightest and most gifted young officers. The man had snatched many such officers from under the noses of countless Starfleet brass. The fact that Jennison had not been able to obtain Bashir spoke volumes for the young man's prominence in the decision making process. A quick glance at the other officers showed that they, too, understood the significance of the information.

Bashir looked at Wescott, a questioning confusion in his eyes.

Wescott smiled. "I've kept in close touch with Jonathan over the years and have followed your career through him. But I have to say that I knew you were destined for greatness the first time I met you. He was only ten years old, Benjamin, and he recited the names of all thirty-seven members of the Isphesnian Parliament, and he had only met them himself that night."

Bashir smiled in spite of himself. "I'll never forget the look on your face."

Sisko was relieved to see the young man relax somewhat.

Wescott laughed. "I had never met anyone with a memory like that before, or such a precocious child." He paused briefly and Sisko could see indecision on his face. "Except for maybe Jessica."

Sisko knew instantly that the Ambassador's words had been a mistake. Bashir's eyes grew cold and his expression filled with hatred. Wescott seemed to visibly withdraw from the intensity of the gaze.

"Don't ever speak her name to me again." The words were spoken softly through clenched teeth. Bashir stood suddenly and stormed from the room.

It wasn't until after the doors slid firmly shut behind the young man that Sisko heard a collective sigh of relief from the officers around the table.

"What the hell was that about?" Kira demanded.

"Who is Jessica?" O'Brien asked.

"I should never have said that," Wescott admitted sadly.

An uncomfortable silence followed as the officers watched Wescott, waiting for an explanation that each suspected would not come. Finally, the man turned to Sisko. "Benjamin, would it be possible for you to find someone to handle Julian's duties for the next 26 hours or so?"

Sisko was taken aback by the odd request. "Doctor Bashir has a highly trained staff, I'm sure they can handle most anything."

Wescott nodded and stood. "Thank you, Ben. I'm sure you know I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

With that the Ambassador said good night and left the room.

"I suspect he has a plan," Dax said uncertainly. "I only hope he knows what he's doing. I miss the old Julian."

"So do I, old man," Sisko said unexpectedly. "So do I."

Quark sighed forlornly and leaned his elbows on the bar. Morn was deeply into another of his patently boring stories and, though the Ferengi feigned interest, his thoughts were elsewhere. Elsewhere - on important matters.

Keeping an ear to Morn's dronings, Quark let his eyes stray around the normally bustling bar. There were scarcely a dozen patrons in the establishment and few of those were gambling. If this kept up much longer, he would have to have a talk with Captain Sisko. After all, he reasoned, if the captain were going to insist that he remain here on this god-forsaken derelict of a station, the least the human could do was insure that he didn't go bankrupt doing it.

A large well-dressed human entered the bar just then, catching Quark's attention. The Ferengi excused himself from Morn trying to disguise the relief in his voice, and went to the opposite end of the bar.

"What can I get for you?" he asked, evaluating the potential customer. The cut and quality of the suit spoke of money and prestige. Perhaps if he could talk the human into a foray in one of the holosuites, a little dabo...

"I was told you were the person to see for quality merchandise."

Quark's ears perked up. This sounded like a profitable transaction. "If it's for sale, I have it. What, exactly, are you in the market for?"

"I have need for two bottles of premium Arkcanian Brostra."

Quark straightened in surprise. "I don't think I heard you correctly. I could have sworn you just asked for Arkcanian Brostra."

The human smiled. "You heard correctly, friend. Can you help me?"

"I'm sure you know that Arkcanian Brostra is highly valued for it's...unique properties. As such, it is extremely hard to come by."

"I'm aware of that, but I was told you could procure most anything of value. If my information is in error..." He left the sentence unfinished.

Quark shook his knobby head in adamant denial. "No, no. I assure you, your information was most correct. I may know where I could get my hands on one bottle of Brostra." Hell, getting his hands on the Brostra would be no problem at all, he had four bottles of the stuff safely hidden away in his office safe; letting go of it would be the problem. He was saving the highly prized liquor for his own personal use. The rich golden liquid was known for its abilities to relax and dampen inhibitions. It was very useful in business dealings - and romantic interludes.

Quark grinned lewdly and reached a gnarled hand up to his ear. He had bought the expensive liquor with Major Kira and Lieutenant Dax in mind, he was just waiting for the right opportunity to use it. Oh well, surely he could accomplish just as much with three bottles. Business was business, after all. "Yes, I believe I can get you one bottle, but I'm afraid it won't be cheap."

"Price is no object," the human announced absurdly. "I am willing to pay you well for your trouble. But I'm afraid that one bottle will not be enough."

Quark narrowed his eyes. Money was no object? Well, maybe he could get by on two.

Wescott accepted the two bottles of liquor from the Ferengi and paid the agreed upon price. It was outrageous, but he was more than willing to meet it if it would help Julian. The Ambassador made his way to the doctor's quarters and sounded the chime. There was no answer. Not surprising. He sounded the chime again, waited a few minutes and touched it again. It might take all night but he was determined to keep trying until the boy answered.

On the sixth try, the door slid open and Julian stood before him. Without waiting for an invitation that he knew would not come, Wescott pushed his way past Julian into the room.

"I don't want visitors," Julian announced coldly.

"That's a shame because you have one anyhow." Wescott made an effort to keep his voice light. "And I suspect that visitors are exactly what you need at the moment."

He ignored the young man's angry face and set the bottles of Brostra on the table. Turning back to face the wrath, he said, "Julian, I'm sorry. I made a mistake bringing up Jessica. I just thought that--"

"You thought that you could force me to talk about something that I don't want to talk about," Julian interrupted angrily. "No one here knows anything about that part of my life, Wescott, and that's the way I want it."

"I know that. That's why I'm here."

Julian looked at him in confusion. "What did you tell them?"

"Nothing, I assure you, although it hasn't been easy keeping secrets around here. These people care about you and they want to help. They are full of questions about the changes in your behavior and attitude." Wescott gathered two glasses from a high shelf and opened one of the bottles while he talked. "It seems to me that you are inviting them to pry into the incident with your actions here lately. If you want them to leave you alone you should not give them reason to be concerned."

He filled the glasses and handed one to Julian.

"What's this?" the young man asked.

Wescott took a small sip of the golden liquid. "One of the most delightful pleasures known to man."

Julian set the glass on the table, untouched. "I don't want it."

"You mean to tell me you don't want to get totally, smashingly, falling down drunk? Come now, Julian, we both know better."

Julian looked at the glass for a minute. "I'm on call."

"Not anymore," Wescott announced with a smile. "I took care of that."

"What did you do?" Julian asked suspiciously.

"I just informed Benjamin that you needed some rest," he lied. "He assured me that this station could get along without you for a short while."

Julian stared at him for a long moment, then picked up the drink and downed it.

Wescott smiled and refilled the glass. Maybe this wouldn't be as difficult as he had imagined. He retrieved the open bottle and followed Julian to the seating area. Julian dropped heavily onto the couch and Wescott took a chair across from him. He set the liquor on the table between them.

"Julian-- " Wescott began.

"The drink I want," Julian interrupted, "the conversation I don't."

Wescott frowned and leaned back in his chair, prepared to wait until the drink relaxed the young man enough to open up.

Julian was on his fifth glass, Wescott still nursing his first, when the young man finally spoke.

"Why did the Isphesnians choose this station for their talks?"

"I don't know," Wescott lied. "Does it matter?"

Julian sat forward and refilled his glass. "It matters to me!" he said loudly. "It took a long time for me to put that day behind me."

"You never really put it behind you," Wescott said softly. "All you did was bury it, shallowly, to resurface again every time something reminds you of it. To truly put it behind you, you have to look it squarely in the face, confront all of the memories."

Julian laughed, the sound at odds with the bitter expression on his face. "You sound like the therapists."

"Maybe you should listen to their advice."

"They pronounced me cured years ago, over my ordeal and ready to resume a normal life." He spoke the words as if reading a patient's chart.

"I think they were mistaken."

"Where did you get your degree?"

"Then, perhaps you wouldn't mind if I call up a picture of Jessica on your computer."

The pain in the young man's eyes was unbearable in its intensity. Wescott steeled himself and continued, his voice softer. "Julian, reliving the terror of that day is not the same as confronting it."

Julian closed his eyes tightly.

Hoping the Arkcanian Brostra was beginning to have its effect, Wescott said, "Maybe it would help to talk to me about it. You know anything you say will not leave this room."

Julian shook his head without opening his eyes. "It hurts too much. Even after all these years, the pain is unbearable."

Wescott moved over to the couch and placed his hand on the young man's arm. "What hurts, Julian?" he asked, knowing the answer. "Tell me what is so painful."

"I couldn't save her." Tears worked their way from the corners of his closed lids. "I promised I would take care of her. She trusted me."

"I was at the hospital with Jonathan when they brought you in, Julian. I know that they beat you almost to death for trying to save her. No one could have done more. I think that Jessica knew that."

Julian opened his eyes, but focused on nothing. "You didn't see her as they took her away. You didn't hear her scream my name over and over, begging me to help." His hands clamped over his ears as he spoke, as though trying to block out the cries, even now.

Wescott's heart lurched in pity at the terror the children must have gone through. How could anyone live with the memories of such horrors? He thought again of Luba, safe back on Earth with her mother. Would he be able to deal with her death in such a brutal fashion? He shook his head to dispel the thoughts. He was here to help Julian, he reminded himself.

The young man was rocking back and forth, his hands clamped over his ears, tears streaming down his face. Wescott wrapped his massive arms around the young man, pulling him close. "I know it hurts, Julian, but you have to face it if you are to ever begin to heal. I think that perhaps you are finally ready to do that. Why don't you tell me about that day?"

Six hours later, Wescott lifted the sleeping young man and placed him gently on the bed.

A small smile of victory graced his face. At least, he thought he had been victorious. If nothing else, Julian would, at last, get some much needed sleep, without the dreaded nightmares. He chuckled. Hell, the boy had finished off both bottles of the Brostra. He could probably sleep through a Dominion attack.

Hopefully, he had accomplished more than that. Julian had talked, really talked, for perhaps the first time since it had happened. Wescott suppressed a shudder at the memory of some of the things Julian had revealed about that day twenty years ago. He had known most of it, of course, but some of the things Julian had said had come as a horrible surprise. It was no wonder that the boy found himself unable to face the memories.

Maybe he had helped. Only time would tell.

Wescott turned to leave, but his attention caught on an object lying on the night table beside the bed. With a frown, he picked up the hypospray and checked the cylinder. It was loaded. He glanced toward Julian's sleeping form, then dropped the hypo into his pocket and slipped quietly from the room.

CHAPTER 6

"Jadzia!" Wescott called after the Trill as she stepped into the turbolift. He hurried to catch up with her, his long legs closing the distance in a few strides.

Dax smiled up at him without much enthusiasm. "Good morning, Valerian."

Wescott understood her dampened spirits. She was worried about her friend. A sudden thought occurred to him and he smiled. Were Jadzia and Julian more than friends? It was obvious that his old friend cared deeply for the young man.

"How is Julian?" Dax asked cautiously.

"He's sleeping," Wescott informed her. "I think he'll stay that way at least the rest of the day, hopefully longer."

Dax's eyes narrowed. "How did you manage that?"

Wescott laughed. "I got him drunk," he admitted sheepishly.

Dax joined in the laughter. Relief shone from her eyes. "It's probably what he needed most."

The human suddenly sobered. "I need a favor, Jadzia."

"Is something wrong?" She picked up on his mood.

"I hope not." Wescott reached into his pocket and removed the hypospray. "Could you help me find out what's in this?"

Dax took the hypo and examined it. "Where did you get it?"

"I'm afraid I took it from Julian's quarters last night."

Dax looked up sharply. "You don't think..." She couldn't bring herself to complete the thought.

"No, no," Wescott said quickly. "I'm sure Julian wouldn't do anything that stupid. It's probably just some kind of medication or a vitamin supplement, maybe."

The worry in the young woman's eyes told him she didn't believe his denial. "If you believed that you wouldn't be asking me to check it out. I can analyze this in just a few minutes in the lab. Would you like to accompany me?"

"It's a sedative," Dax announced less than five minutes later, "though a very strong one."

"I guess he realized he needed some sleep." Wescott's voice was soft.

"I'm surprised he would take something this strong. He takes his medical responsibilities very seriously."

"He didn't take it and we have no way of knowing if he actually would have," Wescott pointed out. "I think he was just desperate to get some rest without the risk of nightmares."

Dax swiveled her chair to face the Ambassador. "Valerian, why can't you tell us what's going on with Julian?"

Wescott sighed heavily. "It's not my place, Jadzia."

Her eyes flashed anger. "Helping Julian is not your place? I apologize for being too dense to understand that."

"I would love to tell you everything, old friend. God knows I would. But it has to come from Julian. He has to be the one to decide when and if to confide in you. It's part of the healing process. Besides, I gave him my word that I would not repeat anything he said to me last night and I think that he needs to know that he can trust me."

Dax's anger gave way to frustration. "Isn't there anything that you can say?"

Wescott grew silent as he considered the question. Finally, he asked, "How much have you guessed already, Jadzia?"

"I know that you were on Isphesne twenty years ago, just before the war broke out. From what you said at dinner last night, I gather that Julian and his father were there, also. You mentioned nightmares and demons, both in reference to Julian. So, I believe something horrible must have happened to him there. Something so bad that the memory of it has him torn up inside."

She paused, waiting for Wescott to deny or confirm her words. The human was silent.

"There are very few details in the official report, which is surprising in itself. I do know that there was a terrorist attack during the midst of the talks." Her eyes widened in sudden realization. "Was Julian a victim of that attack? Or maybe his father?"

Wescott's expression grew sad. "Why don't you ask Julian?"

"I tried to talk to him, but it was a disaster. We both said things we shouldn't have, hurtful things that we couldn't take back."

"Maybe you should try again. He may be ready now."

Dax cocked her head and studied the man. "What happened last night, Valerian?"

Wescott spread his hands. "We talked, that's all."

"Why did he talk to you, and not one of us?" Dax sounded hurt.

"Don't take it personally," Wescott said with a slight smile. "I already know most of the story, so I knew what buttons to push. Plus, I had an unfair advantage - Arkcanian Brostra."

Dax smiled. "I'd say that was unfair." She sobered. "Do you think it helped?"

"Time will tell, old friend. But, if you're religious, a prayer wouldn't hurt."

Julian opened his eyes slowly, expecting to be hit by the effects of a massive hangover. He wasn't. Oddly, he felt pretty good. Cautiously, he stepped from the bed and made his way to the bathroom. A quick shower, a little breakfast, and he felt like tackling even a room full of Klingons. Well, he smiled, at least one, if he could have his choice of hyposprays.

He glanced quickly at the chronometer on his way out the door. 0930 hours. As he hurried down the corridor toward the turbolift, he breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn't missed much of his shift, after all. As refreshed as he felt, he thought he had slept much longer. He stepped into the empty lift and leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes.

It was odd that he should feel so good, better than he had felt in days. It must be the effects of a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. He shook his head slowly. He knew why he felt better. Somehow Wescott had managed to get him to open up. He remembered every word of the conversation, which was surprising in itself; he knew he had been dead drunk. He had told Wescott things he had told no one, not even the therapists all those years ago. What in the world had gotten in to him?

He should be furious with the Ambassador, but, he realized with a start, he wasn't. It had been almost a relief to finally share his fears and feelings with someone.

He exited the lift on the Promenade and headed for the infirmary. He would need to talk to Wescott, of course, remind him that the things he had said could go no further. He just wasn't ready to share his pain with anyone else.

Jabara looked up when he entered the infirmary. Relief and pleasure shone bright in her eyes. "Look who's back from the dead!" she exclaimed.

Julian smiled broadly. "Miss me?"

The Bajoran nurse returned the smile. "I've missed the old Julian, and I must say, it's wonderful to see him again. You look almost human."

"That's nothing compared to how I feel. Any problems to report?"

"Nothing serious." She called up some information on a nearby monitor. "There have been the normal minor scrapes and bruises. Ensign Huie sustained a hairline fracture of the right fibula in an accident in the docking ring. I'll notify her to come by later today and let you have a look at it. Oh, and one of the members of the Isphesnian security had an upset stomach last night. I think it was a reaction to something he ate in Quark's."

Julian's head jerked up. "I thought the Isphesnian advance teams were due to arrive this afternoon."

"Yesterday afternoon," Jabara corrected him.

Julian pushed a key on the computer, calling up today's date. "Oh, my God," he whispered. "No wonder I feel so rested."

"Arkcanian Brostra is a wonderful sedative," said a voice behind him, "without the side effects."

Julian shot a frown at Wescott. "I can't afford to sleep for a day and a half. I have responsibilities."

"Which your lovely nurse was able to handle just fine." Wescott smiled at Jabara.

The Bajoran returned the smile and left the two alone.

"I had the computer alert me when you left your quarters," the Ambassador informed him. "How do you feel?"

"Surprisingly, I feel pretty good," Julian said. "I suppose I did need the rest."

"That's not all you needed."

Julian sighed. "I know. Thanks, Valerian." He switched off the monitor and faced the older man. "Look, about the things I said last...I mean, night before last..."

Wescott smiled. "Don't worry, Julian. I gave you my oath of silence just as I gave it to your father years ago. I take my word very seriously."

Julian's gratitude shone in his eyes. "I'm just not ready to let anyone else in on this."

"I wish you would reconsider, Julian. You have many friends here and they are concerned about you. You should trust them enough to confide in them. They can help you."

For an instant, anger flashed through Julian. He quickly suppressed it, not wanting anything to spoil his good mood. "I don't need help, Wescott. I have everything under control. I think I can put this behind me now. I managed to sleep thirty-five hours straight through with no nightmares."

"That was the effect of two bottles of Arkcanian Brostra, my boy. Don't let it fool you into thinking everything is going to be fine now."

"I have it under control," Julian repeated firmly.

"I hope you're right," Wescott said.

Julian ignored the note of doubt in the man's voice and smiled. "Don't worry about me, Valerian. I'll be fine."

Julian regained consciousness slowly, against his will. He fought against awareness, instinctively knowing it would bring with it unbearable pain. It came anyhow; with it came the memories. Jessica was gone! They had taken her and he had been powerless to stop them. She had died waiting for him to rescue her. He choked back a sob.

A cool hand touched his forehead. Carefully, he opened his eyes, blinking back tears until he could focus on the face above his.

"Don't move, Julian," Rava whispered. "Let them think you are sleeping."

He turned his head slightly to the side and was met by a wave of dizziness. When his vision again cleared he saw that Thurl and the woman soldier were standing not far away. He couldn't hear the discussion, but it looked as though they were arguing. Several more soldiers stood a few steps behind them.

Julian struggled to sit up, but a stab of pain in his side and Rava's hand stopped him.

"Please," her soft voice pleaded, "he almost killed you once. He might come back if he sees you're awake."

Julian relented and lay still. He closed his eyes, only to jerk them back open again when the image of Jessica flashed there. He bit back a moan. Trying to occupy his thoughts, he turned to watch the soldiers. "What's going on?" He was surprised at how weak he sounded.

When Rava didn't answer, he turned his head to look at her. Tears were streaming down her delicate face. Julian knew instantly that something horrible had happened. Clamping a hand to his throbbing side, he pulled himself into a sitting position. Trying to ignore the pain and the difficulty breathing, he looked around.

"Where is Proctor?" NO! He couldn't be dead! He had heard the woman tell Thurl to leave Proctor and Rava alone. "Where is he?"

"He's dead," Rava said through her tears. "I think it was an accident. That's why they are fighting."

Julian reached up to wipe at his eyes, wincing as he touched tender skin. His hand came away sticky. When he looked he was surprised to see blood. He remembered, as he had lost consciousness, someone - Thurl? - kicking him, over and over. That explained the pain in his face and side, the difficulty breathing.

"Tell me what happened, Rava!" he demanded.

The child responded to the seriousness of his tone. "When they took Jessica and that man was hurting you, Proctor tried to stop him but he couldn't." Her voice caught. "They killed Jessica, Julian."

Julian closed his eyes. Uncontrollable terror lay just below the surface and he fought to hold it in.

Rava continued. "The man hit Proctor. He fell and hit his head, I think. Everybody was so angry. They were all yelling at the man and he was yelling back." She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself tightly. "I thought for a minute they were going to kill us all. That big man started kicking you again. That man," she pointed to a short, stocky man standing against the far wall, watching his feuding colleagues, "pulled you away from him and brought you over here. I thought you were going to die, too." She broke off with a whimper.

Julian put his arm around the girl and pulled her close, but he couldn't bring himself to tell her everything would be all right. He had said those words to Jessie and it had been a lie.

He looked around at the other children; there were only seven left. Julian closed his eyes in pain. Seven, out of fourteen. With Proctor gone, he was the oldest left; they would look to him for strength. He swallowed painfully. Trouble was, right now, he didn't feel very strong.

"I've been told you're receiving visitors, now." Dax spoke cautiously to Julian's back as he leaned over a data padd.

Julian looked up, surprised to see the Trill. An expression of embarrassment filled his dark eyes. "Jadzia, I'm glad you're here." He switched off the padd and turned to face her. "Look, about the other night..."

Dax held up her hand to stop him. "It's not necessary, Julian. I know you've been under some kind of stress lately. Besides, I said some unkind things myself."

"Nothing I didn't deserve. I don't know what came over me." He ran a hand through his curly hair. "There's no excuse for my behavior."

"Julian," Dax began hesitantly, "I know something has been bothering you. Please don't deny it. I just wish you would trust me enough to confide in me; or if not me then O'Brien or Benjamin."

Surprisingly, Julian smiled. "Why not Kira?"

Dax returned the smile, relieved that he had not reacted as he had a few nights before when she had made the same suggestion. "Somehow, I can't see you confiding in Kira, however, if that's what it would take..." She left the suggestion unfinished.

Julian actually laughed at that. "Do you suppose she would set aside a few hours for some intimate conversation?"

"You laugh, but to be truthful, Julian, Kira has been as worried about you as the rest of us."

Julian sobered. "I'm sorry."

"About making us worry or because you still don't want to talk about it?"

"Both," he admitted with a sigh. "I won't insult your intelligence by denying that there has something going on. I'm sorry that it got so out of hand that I took it out on the rest of you. But I can't talk about it; I don't want to."

Dax frowned. How could she argue with that excuse?

She didn't even try. "If you change your mind, I want you to know that I'm here."

Julian put his hand on her arm. "Thanks, Jadzia. That means a lot."

CHAPTER 7

Sisko surveyed his senior officers with a paternal smile. All were decked out in dress uniforms and, though decidedly uncomfortable in the strictly-for-show garments, they were prepared for the momentary arrival of the Isphesnian delegation. Sisko glanced behind him and down the corridor. Security was at full attention and ready.

"Docking procedures complete," informed the toneless voice of the station computer.

The inner airlock clicked, signaling the delegates impending disembarkment. After a short moment the outer airlock rolled aside and four Isphesnians stepped out, their dark eyes quickly surveying the surroundings. Security, Sisko immediately recognized.

Sisko stepped forward. "Welcome to Deep Space Nine. I am Captain Benjamin Sisko."

One of the Isphesnian men extended his hand in the traditional human greeting. "Thank you, Captain Sisko. I am Bal Thoro, security advisor."

Sisko accepted the handshake, surprised at the gesture. He indicated Odo, standing to his left. "This is Constable Odo, Chief of Security for this station. He is charge of the security for the summit."

Thoro nodded in Odo's direction acknowledging the introduction. "Are you prepared to receive the delegation, Constable Odo?"

The shapeshifter stepped forward. "We have secured the immediate area and the corridors between here and the delegation's quarters as requested."

Thoro nodded in satisfaction. With one last glance around the area, Thoro turned and nodded to one of the Isphesnians beside him. The man spoke softly into a hand-held communicator. Within seconds, a young woman exited the ship through the airlock, followed closely by a much older man. A flash of anger mixed with surprise silenced the greeting that had been ready on Sisko's lips. There was no mistaking who the young woman was. It was evident in both her attire and in the regal way in which she presented herself. Why had he not been informed that the Empress herself would be conducting the peace talks? It would have certainly made a huge difference in the preparations, not to mention security.

He quickly masked the shock on his face and stepped forward. "Empress Rava, I presume." He bowed slightly. "I am Captain Benjamin Sisko. Welcome to Deep Space Nine."

The Empress returned the bow. "A sincere pleasure, Captain Sisko." She turned to the man beside her. "This is Prime Minister Corses Varthen. He will be assisting me in the negotiations."

Sisko acknowledged the introduction, noticing the flicker of irritation in the man's eyes at the Empress' words. Sisko turned back to the Empress, shooting a look of daggers at Wescott in the process. "We were not informed that you were heading the Isphesnian delegation."

Rava smiled radiantly. "I must apologize for keeping you in the dark, Captain. I insisted that my involvement be kept a surprise."

Sisko's eyebrows crawled up his forehead. A surprise for whom?

"Ambassador Wescott," Rava said taking the man's hands. "It is good to see you again."

"You are as lovely as ever, Empress," Wescott said with a bow.

"Must you be so formal? I'm still the same impudent little Rava, only bigger now." The Empress' eyes danced with mischief. "Do you remember Prime Minister Varthen?"

"Of course," Wescott said, extending his hand, palm down before him. The Prime Minister placed his own hand on top of it in the Isphesnian equivalent of a handshake. "How are you, Corses?"

The short, balding man smiled. "Old and tired, my friend. You look as though life has been kind."

Before Wescott could respond, the Empress' eyes moved past his shoulder to the DS9 officers assembled behind him.

Sisko turned to introduce his staff but was stopped short by the expression on Doctor Bashir's face. He was staring at the young woman in what could only be recognition and shock.

"Rava?!" The doctor's voice was as incredulous as his expression.

The Empress moved forward quickly to envelope the young man in a hug. "Julian, I can't tell you how wonderful it is to see you." She stepped back and surveyed him. "I would say you look great, but we both know that would be a lie." She frowned. "Are you well?"

Julian smiled broadly, ignoring the question and, Sisko noted, for the first time is days the haunted look in his eyes was erased. "I hadn't a clue you were planning to personally conduct the talks. I wish you had sent word you were coming."

"I wanted to surprise you."

Sisko glanced at the rest of his staff. Their faces proved they were as startled as he was. O'Brien was staring open-mouthed at the pair. Dax was watching in barely restrained amazement. Kira...Sisko bit back a chuckle at her expression. Even Odo seemed surprised.

"You knew I was here?" Julian asked.

"Of course! Why do you think I insisted the talks be held here? I have longed to see you again and I know you will never return to Isphesne."

Sisko heard the sad note in Rava's voice and saw the shadow that passed across Julian's features.

Rava must have noticed the shadows, too. She took Julian's hands in hers and gazed with compassion into his eyes. "I can see that I have awakened the nightmares, Julian. I was afraid that I would."

Julian visibly gathered himself and smiled. "Nothing I can't handle."

Rava reached up and placed a gentle kiss on the young man's cheek. "None the less, I apologize for reopening old wounds, but I desperately need your support right now. I know you are the only person alive that can understand just how hard this is going to be for me."

"If I had known that you needed me, Rava, I would have come to Isphesne."

Sisko had no idea to what the young people referred, but he could tell that the statement had been difficult for Julian to make. He could also see that it meant a great deal to the Empress.

She turned back to Sisko, still holding Julian's hands. "Forgive me, Captain. I believe you were about to introduce your staff."

Sisko smiled, a somewhat confused look still on his face. "I had no idea that you and Doctor Bashir knew one another."

"You didn't mention it, Julian?" She glanced at him for a short moment. "No, I guess you wouldn't." Turning back to Sisko, she said, "It was a long time ago, another lifetime, perhaps."

Julian took a deep breath, obviously reluctant to talk about it, but seeming to know an explanation was required. "My father was assigned to Isphesne when I was a child. Rava and I attended school together for a short time."

Sisko knew there was more to the story than that but now was not the time to press for details. "Empress Rava, may I present my staff..." He quickly ran through the introductions, then addressed the Empress and her party. "I'm sure you must be tired after your long journey. Perhaps, after you are settled and rested, we can discuss your agenda."

Rava smiled tiredly. "You are very perceptive, Captain Sisko. I am exhausted. Perhaps, if you could spare Julian, he could escort me to my quarters."

"Of course," Sisko agreed reluctantly. He wanted to talk to the doctor himself, but that could wait for a short while. Addressing the young man, he said, "Just remember, Doctor Bashir, there is a staff meeting at 1100 hours."

Julian nodded acknowledgment and took Rava's arm. The Empress hooked her other arm in Wescott's and let the men lead her down the corridor toward the habitat ring. They were followed by Prime Minister Varthen, Rava's attendants and the security detail from both Isphesne and Starfleet.

Sisko watched until the contingent disappeared around a bend in the corridor leaving him alone with the remainder of his staff. "Well!" he said, releasing the sigh he had been suppressing.

"Why didn't he tell us he had ties to the Empress?" Kira exploded.

"I would say," said Dax, "judging by what she said and his reaction, that it involves bad memories."

"That's no excuse," Sisko barked. "He knew we were trying to assemble information that would help us prepare for the talks. He should have volunteered what he knew."

"Which is obviously a lot," Kira observed.

"Maybe not," O'Brien said. "He did say he was just a child when he was on Isphesne."

"Well," Sisko said again. He pulled absently at the hem of his dress uniform. "I guess we'll find out just what he does know at 1100 hours."

Dax checked the time. 1108. Julian was late and Benjamin wasn't very happy about it. She glanced at the Captain from the corner of her eye. He was pacing the length of the ward room. She knew he was anxious to question the doctor and she also suspected Julian was just as anxious to avoid those questions.

Wescott had said he left Julian at the Empress' quarters over an hour ago. Dax stole a glance at the Ambassador. He certainly looked pleased about something.

Slowly, she looked down the table at the faces of each officer mutely waiting for the meeting to begin. They were beyond speculating as to Julian's relationship with Empress Rava and had settled down to quietly wait for the man in question.

For several more minutes, Sisko paced and they waited. At last, the door slid aside and Julian entered. Dax studied him with concern as he took his seat at the table. He seemed older somehow than he had just a few short hours ago. His brown eyes were dark and apprehensive.

"I'm glad you were able to fit us into your schedule, Doctor," Sisko said, taking his seat.

"I'm sorry, sir," Julian said. "I was delayed."

Dax frowned. His lack of elaboration didn't bode well for the remainder of the meeting. A quick look at Sisko told her he had come to the same conclusion. She caught the Captain's eye, silently pleading with him to go easy with the inquisition. If he got the message, he gave no indication.

Without preamble, Sisko began. "Why didn't you mention your ties to Empress Rava?"

Julian met Sisko's eyes, trying to hide the emotions playing on his face, emotions Dax couldn't put a name to. "It was a very long time ago. I was just a child."

Sisko leaned back and scrutinized the younger man. "You should have mentioned that you lived on Isphesne as soon as you realized the information was relevant to our security efforts for the talks."

"I was barely ten years old, Captain. I knew nothing of the political workings around me."

Wescott opened his mouth to say something, but evidently changed his mind. He quickly shut it again. Dax remembered the Ambassador's earlier words. The decision to talk had to be Julian's.

"Perhaps you could enlighten us about your association with the Empress," Sisko suggested firmly.

Julian hesitated. "Rava and I attended school together. We were very close friends. Just before the war broke out my father was recalled to Earth. Rava and I stayed in touch for a while but I haven't seen her in years."

"The Empress said you would never return to Isphesne," Odo said. "Does that have anything to do with the terrorist attack that started the war?"

Dax winced at the pain that clouded Julian's eyes. "There were some unpleasant memories," he said softly.

"If you know something about the terrorist attack," Sisko pursued, "it would be helpful to security to have that information."

"I can't tell you anything that would be useful," Julian stated tonelessly.

"Why do I have the feeling that you know more than you are saying?" Sisko folded his arms across his chest. A sure sign to Dax's experienced eye that he was frustrated.

Julian lifted his head to meet Sisko's intense gaze.

"Is there anything you can tell us?" Sisko was trying hard to remain calm.

Julian dropped his eyes, studying his folded hands on the table. Slowly, he shook his head. "I'm sorry, sir. There's nothing I can say."

"Then, I see no point in continuing this meeting, Doctor Bashir." The captain's tone effectively dismissed the young man.

Julian glanced up in mild surprise at the anger in Sisko's voice, then rose and left the room.

Sisko sighed deeply and leaned back in his chair. Dax could see he was trying to get his temper under control.

Wescott spoke into the uneasy silence. "What he could tell you, Benjamin, would make very little difference in your security measures."

"I would like to have the chance to judge that for myself."

"I thought for a minute," Dax said, "that he was going to talk about it."

Sisko shook his head. "He never had any intentions of saying anything."

"I think Rava may hold the key to unlocking Julian's lips," Wescott said hopefully. "She will be able to help him in a way that none of us can."

Dax shot the Ambassador a hard look, unsure exactly what emotion motivated it.

Wescott must have noticed. He said, "Julian and Rava share a bond of personal tragedy. Rava understands what he is feeling because she has faced the same demons."

"Does this have something to do with the terrorist attack that precipitated the war?" Odo asked.

"The attack hit Julian very hard and very personally," Wescott explained. "That's all I can tell you."

"Many Bajorans have survived horrors that you couldn't begin to imagine," Kira said derisively. "They manage to put the memories behind them, go on with their lives."

"Have they, Major Kira? Can you truthfully say they have put all of the pain and horror they faced behind them?"

Kira dropped her eyes. "No, I can't truthfully say that," she admitted softly. "It just seems like that on the outside. Inside, the pain remains."

"Bajorans don't hold a patent on horror. Julian's pain is just as real and just as brutal."

For once, Kira was silent. Remembering her own horrors, Dax wondered, or, perhaps, wondering at Julian's?

"We will have to make changes in the security arrangements to accommodate the Empress," Odo announced into the silence. "If I had known sooner that she was coming, my team and I could have been better prepared."

"Rava insisted that her participation be kept a surprise," Wescott explained. "My office was under orders to honor that request."

"It seems that you are very good at keeping secrets," Sisko said tonelessly. "Is there anything else we should know?"

Wescott smiled and shook his head.

Sisko turned to Odo. "Coordinate your security measures with the Isphesnian security. They should be more forthcoming. After all, they have the same priority - keeping the Empress safe." He turned to the other officers. "The Colonial delegation is due to arrive at 1300 hours. I want everyone there." He smiled ruefully. "Full dress uniforms. Dismissed."

Rava handed Julian another cup of the tea and sat down beside him. She took a sip of her own and smiled. "This really is good. What did you call it again?"

"Tarkalian tea. It is my favorite."

Rava sipped at her tea, watching Julian surreptitiously over the top of her cup. He looked so sad, she thought dolefully. He tried so hard to hide it but she could see it. She smiled inwardly. Julian had never been able to hide his emotions from her.

She thought back over the years they had known one another. After the attack, her father had sent her to Earth, far away from Isphesne and all of its dangers. It had been so hard, being alone on a strange world. Of course, there had been a multitude of servants, attendants, and guards. She was never really alone. But, somehow it wasn't the same. She hadn't had anyone to share her grief with - until Julian had come back to Earth.

It had been so comforting to have someone to talk to that understood her grief and her loneliness. They had spent hours on end simply talking. Or, at least, she had. Julian was a wonderful listener, but after a while he had stopped talking about anything pertaining to the attack or Jessica.

They had remained close until the day Julian had announced he was entering medical school. Slowly the visits had tapered off, eventually stopping altogether.

She had remained on Earth until her father had sent for her just before his death.

Now, here they were, together again and it was as if no time had passed between the meetings. She smiled at the top of his head. It felt so comfortable, so right to be with him. Even after all these years.

Julian looked up and caught her watching him. He smiled. It was so dazzling it made her blush. He was so handsome! If only she could think of him as something other than a brother. She returned the smile ruefully.

"A penny for your thoughts," she offered.

Julian laughed softly. "They haven't made pennies in centuries."

"It's the thought that counts," Rava quipped.

"Are you practicing your clichés tonight?"

"If the shoe fits...No, wait, that doesn't fit." She frowned. "A rolling stone...No...Oh, well. I give up. Why don't you just tell me what's on your mind?"

Julian turned away. "Let's not dredge up all these old memories, Rava. Let's just enjoy seeing one another again."

Rava nodded and refilled their cups. "Okay, so, what can we safely talk about? Pick a subject."

Julian accepted the tea and leaned back on the couch. "How about your role in the peace negotiations? It's hard to picture you as a diplomat." He smiled. "The Rava I remember was too quick to speak her mind, regardless of the consequences."

"Don't I know it!" She laughed. "Controlling my tongue is one of the hardest parts of the job." She sobered suddenly. "It's not something I want to do. It's not something I am suppose to do. This job should be Proctor's. He was a born leader."

Julian was silent for a minute. Then, "If Proctor was here, there might not have been a need for the talks."

"I don't know," she said seriously. "The death of all those children was the catalyst for the war, but the tensions were already there. Talks weren't going well. I think my father was leaning toward a peaceful settlement until Proctor's murder, but there were many in the Parliament that staunchly refused to discuss any type of concessions to the Colonies."

They were silent for a moment.

"My father was determined to have the war. He considered it punishment for the Colonists taking his son. He couldn't see that he was punishing his own people, too. How many countless thousands have died needlessly?"

"You're just as determined to stop it?"

She turned to face him. "I have to, Julian. There has been too much killing, too many deaths. I intend to end it, even if I have to give the Colonists everything they want with no negotiations."

"That doesn't sound very diplomatic," Julian smiled. "I'm guessing there are some Isphesnians that are opposed to such a liberal settlement."

"You wouldn't be far from the truth," Rava admitted. "Including many in my own cabinet. Corses, himself, has been very vocally opposed to any concessions. But I think the vast majority of the general population are tired of the violence. They are as ready as I am for the war to end, whatever the cost."

Julian smiled at her, clear approval on his face. "You're doing the right thing, Rava, but I think you already know that."

"It's still good to hear it from you, my friend."

"Why did you really come all the way here, Rava? I know it wasn't just to see me."

"When I first approached the Federation about mediating the negotiations, they suggested a neutral location. Several alternatives were proposed but most were rejected by one side or the other for a variety of reasons. Finally, I strongly suggested your station. Actually, I was surprised when everyone agreed. I was prepared to fight for it."

Julian laughed. "Power suits you."

"What's the point of having power if you don't occasionally throw it around?"

They both laughed.

"I did want to see you, Julian, but it was more than that. I needed to talk to someone who would know what I'm feeling. Sometimes, I think you are the only person left who understands me. I just needed the strength of that relationship behind me going into this."

Rava sat in silence for a minute. Then, "Julian, we were so close. What happened?"

Julian turned back and met her gaze. "Medical school happened. It took so much of my time and energy."

Rava snorted. "Don't give me that. You breezed through medical school, I'm sure, just as you did everything else you applied yourself to. I went to school with you, remember? I know how easy it is for you."

Julian looked down at his tea cup, as if looking for an answer there. "I don't know, Rava. I just suddenly needed to break away from everything that reminded me of the past."

"Including me?" She sounded hurt.

He set the cup down and reached for her hand. "I'm sorry. I know how selfish that sounds. Looking back, I can see that it was one of the biggest mistakes of my life. You were the one person that understood my pain and I turned my back on that."

Rava scooted closer and laid her head on Julian's shoulder. He sensed her need for comfort and put his arms around her, surprised to find she was trembling.

"Sometimes," she said softly, "it still hurts so bad."

Julian closed his eyes. "I know."

"I have the nightmares, too, Julian. I close my eyes and I see them all: Proctor, Jessica, Curros, Desphe, all of them."

"I know," he repeated. "Me, too."

The silence grew, neither anxious to break it. It seemed right somehow, to just sit like this, in each other's arms, silently sharing their grief.

Long minutes later, Rava sat up and wiped at her eyes. A look at Julian showed his eyes darkened with unshed tears; tears that needed to fall, she knew.

He looked at her and forced a smile. "Have you kept up with the others? Where are they now?"

She shook her head sadly. "Dredall was killed in the war four years ago. Her sister, Tirault, is a pilot, one of the best, from what I understand. Euall committed suicide when she was seventeen. Angus and Stefan, I'm not sure of. I tried to find them once, while I was still on Earth, but I had no luck."

Julian leaned his head against the back of the couch. "Five left, out of seventeen. Dredall and Euall were as much a victim of the attack as Proctor and Jessie. They took so much from us."

"They didn't take our souls, Julian. They took most everything else - our childhood, our innocence - but they never touched our souls."

Julian shook his head. "They took mine," he said softly.

"That's not true!" Rava exclaimed. "You are alive! You have a life here and, from what I've seen, it's a good one. You are one of the brightest doctors in Starfleet - hell, anywhere. You have good friends here. Don't deny it. I saw the way they looked at you. Those people care about you, Julian. No one can touch any of that, it's yours."

"I am alive, Rava, but I have a hole inside that hurts unbearably."

"I know; me, too. But if you don't hide it away to fester, eventually, it will heal a little. It won't go away, but it will get so you can touch it with only a little tenderness."

"You talk like Valerian," he said, attempting a smile.

Rava raised her eyebrows. "What did he say?"

"That I need to talk about it, to someone other than him, and, I would presume, you."

"Maybe he has a point," she suggested.

"How would he know?" Julian snapped. "What did he lose? He had nothing personal at stake in the negotiations."

"I did," Rava said softly. "I lost as much as you, Julian."

Julian sat up and took Rava's hand. "Damn, I seem to keep doing that to people I care about. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it." He stood and walked partway across the room. "It's just that I can't even bear to hear Jessie's name. I haven't been able to look at her picture in years. It just hurts too damned much."

"It wasn't your fault, Julian. You couldn't have stopped it no matter what you did."

"I promised her she would be safe. I lied to her." He rubbed at his suddenly wet eyes. "It should have been me."

Rava moved up behind him and took his arm, turning him to face her. "It wasn't, and it wasn't me. There's not a day goes by that I don't ask myself why it was Proctor, or Vircen, or Tason, and not me. Why were we spared?" She reached up and wiped a tear from Julian's face. "It surely wasn't to curl up and die inside, useless to the world. I found my purpose, Julian. I intend to stop this insane war. You've found your purpose, too. Don't lose sight of that. If you do, they will look down from whichever heaven they've found peace in and shed a tear at the waste."

Julian wrapped his arms around Rava and buried his head in her soft hair. She felt the tears burning where they soaked through to her skin. Soon, the gentle tears became choking sobs. A good sign, she decided. Crying cleansed the soul, her mother had once said.

Rava clung tightly to Julian as he cried. She prayed her mother was right.

CHAPTER 8

Security lined the corridor outside of the conference room where the Isphesnian and Colonial delegates were to meet to establish their agenda. Wescott noted the men absently as he entered the room. He was surprised to see Rava already seated at the table. She was the only one in the room. She stood as he approached.

"You're early," he said with a smile.

"I wanted a few minutes to talk to you before the meeting started."

"Is something wrong?" He took note of the concern in her tone.

Rava sat back down and gestured to the chair beside her. "Please, sit, Valerian." She waited until he was seated before continuing. "I'm worried about Julian," she said simply.

Wescott leaned back and sighed. "I know, so am I."

"We have to help him. But I'm not sure how."

"You saw the same horrors, Rava. How did you manage to heal? What helped you?"

Rava shook her head sadly. "It wasn't the same for me. Julian's pain goes much deeper. He has feelings of guilt, isolation, and betrayal that I didn't have to face. And to be honest, Valerian, I haven't completely healed myself."

Wescott caught on something she said. "Betrayal?"

"He has always blamed his father for not saving Jessica. He was so confidant when we were taken hostage that his father would come and everything would be all right. He kept telling us not to worry, his dad would come. Each time one of us was killed, his confidence broke a little. It was shattered completely when they took Jessica. He's never forgiven his father for that betrayal."

"I was with Jonathan throughout the whole situation. If Julian could have just seen his father. He did everything humanly possible to find the kids. He appealed personally to the terrorists every time they made contact." Wescott's voice softened. "When the bodies began coming, he was devastated. When Jessica's came..." He was unable to finish the sentence.

After a minute, he cleared his throat. "At the hospital, when he saw what they had done to Julian, I thought...I thought he was going to come apart. He seemed to lose something of himself. He held himself together solely for Julian's benefit."

"I wish Julian could realize that," Rava said sadly. "He's shut his father out of so much of his life."

"He's doing it here, too. He has some very good friends that care a great deal about him, but he has withdrawn from them."

"Do they know?"

Wescott shook his head. "Only that he was on Isphesne around the time of the attack."

"They should know."

The Ambassador nodded silently. If only Julian could be convinced of that.

Corses Varthen entered the conference room and caught sight of the Empress and Ambassador Wescott leaning close, obviously sharing a private conversation. He frowned. What was that about? Neither of the two seemed to notice him.

Irritated, he took his chair. Damn Rava, he silently cursed. The imbecile had managed, in seven short months, to threaten everything he had built in the last twenty years. He had gleaned millions from the shipyards he secretly controlled. Shipyards he had covertly bought twenty-three years ago, when tensions with the Colonies had first begun to mount. War had seemed inevitable then. Until the Federation had stuck their weighty nose into the matter. Suddenly, Martan had gone soft on the Colonies. He had begun leaning toward a settlement and no amount of arguing had gotten through to him.

Varthen closed his eyes in a momentary flash of conscience. No! He couldn't dwell on the past. It had been necessary. There was no other way to avoid Martan's weak-kneed acquiescence. The fool would have given in to every outrageous demand of the Colonies if he hadn't stepped in when he did. The death of the Emperor's son had been an unfortunate result but profitable nevertheless.

He opened his eyes and looked at the Empress. Very unfortunate, considering this woman's propensity toward a settlement. She was as weak-kneed as her father had been. But, whereas Martan had been ease to manipulate, Rava had proven strong-willed, with a mind of her own, and determined to end the war at any cost. The tactics Varthen had used with Martan were useless with the man's daughter.

Varthen shook his head sadly. A shame it had come to this, but the young woman just refused to see reason. Soon, all his people would be in place. Then, it would be time to set the plan in motion.

The door slid aside and the Colonial delegation entered. Varthen rose and forced a convincing smile in greeting. Very soon, he promised himself.

The giant of a man stepped from the airlock and glanced both ways down the corridor. Most of the passengers were headed left, presumably toward the Promenade. Deliberately, he turned right. He had orders to lay low. The chance he would be recognized was minuscule, but still a possibility. The Isphesnian security force had been given his description, thanks to the surviving children. Of course, that had been twenty years ago. He doubted anyone still remembered. But the Empress herself could recognize him if given the chance.

He would remain out of sight until time to move. That shouldn't be too difficult on a station of this size. He glanced at his timepiece. Soon he would have to check in with the boss. Until then, well, he grinned wickedly, he would manage.

Chief O'Brien half-closed one eye and took aim. Then, with a smooth flick of the wrist, he launched the dart. "Ha!" he exclaimed, seeing the projectile embed itself in the center ring. "That's three out of three for me." He eyed Julian as he stepped forward to remove the darts from the board. "Of course, it would mean a lot more if you would at least pretend you were trying."

"What?" Julian looked up. "Oh, I'm sorry, Chief. I have a lot on my mind."

Tell me something I don't know.

"I guess I'm not really very good company," Julian added.

O'Brien set the darts down and picked up his beer. He gestured toward a nearby empty table. Once they were seated, he said, "Maybe if you tried to relax. You seem tense, like you are expecting trouble."

Julian drained his synthale and signaled the waiter for another. "No, it's nothing like that. I've just been under a bit of stress lately."

"At least, you've given up biting everyone's head off." O'Brien observed with a chuckle.

Julian winced. "Ouch! Was I that bad?"

O'Brien faked an astonished expression. "Were you?! Even Kira was afraid to approach you. And poor Jabara! I heard she asked Garak to fit her for a suit of armor."

Both men laughed at the image.

"I'm sorry, Miles," Julian repeated soberly. "I really am. I've been a jerk. Especially to my friends. It's a wonder Jadzia is even speaking to me."

"She cares about you Julian. We all do. I just wish you would talk to one of us about whatever is troubling you."

Julian frowned at his glass for a minute. "It was just a personal problem. It's settled now.

In other words, you don't want to talk about it.

O'Brien changed the subject, hoping it was a safe one. He sensed Julian beginning to withdraw again. "The Empress is a lovely girl. But she seems awfully young to be ruling a world, not to mention the added pressures of negotiating the end to a war."

"She may be young," Julian said with a smile, "but if anyone can successfully end this, it's Rava."

"You seem to be on very friendly terms with her," O'Brien observed.

Julian didn't notice the gleam in the man's eye or the innuendo in his tone. "We used to be very close. In some ways, we still are."

"Beauty, wealth, power; what more could a man ask for?"

The doctor finally saw what O'Brien was hinting at. He shook his head adamantly. "You've got it all wrong. Rava is like..." he hesitated slightly, "...family. I could never think of her like that."

"Julian," O'Brien said with exaggerated disappointment. "Haven't I taught you anything?"

"Rava is the closest friend I've ever had," Julian said seriously. "We've shared a lot...we understand each other. I would never take a chance on spoiling that." He lowered his tone. "I need her friendship too much."

O'Brien sighed, knowing that was as much as Julian intended to say on the subject. "Well, I'm glad you have her to turn to." He tried to keep the hurt out of his voice. He had thought Julian felt comfortable enough to turn to him with his problems. Evidently he was mistaken.

The Irishman pushed back from the table and picked up the darts. "Ready for another game? I kind of like the way you play when you're distracted. Come to think of it, maybe we should try racquetball."

Corses Varthen eyed the massive man before him. He had no patience with the giant, he never really had, but the man had proven useful many times. He was cold-hearted, taking jobs that few would have done at any price - not many had the stomach for what was sometimes required.

His gaze moved to the woman. Once, she may have been beautiful; it was hard to say now. Time and life had taken their toll on her features, but there was still fire in her eyes - a cold fire that never failed to frighten Corses. It was a good thing she was on his payroll.

"I don't want you to take any chances," he informed the pair. "Stay here until just before time to move. Understand?"

The big man nodded, the woman simply stared.

"Nothing's changed since the last time we spoke," Corses continued. "The meeting is scheduled for 0900 tomorrow morning."

"What about the bomb?" the man asked.

"It's taken care of," Corses assured him. "Your only concern is to make sure you and Cecha get in that conference room on time. The window of opportunity is very small. Timing is crucial."

Corses clasped his hands behind his back and paced slowly across the room. "Everything has been very carefully planned. There is no room for mistakes of any kind. It is imperative that you follow your instructions implicitly."

"There's not really a lot to screw up on," the woman commented dryly. "Security will already be taken care of by the time we get there, right?"

"You will be able to walk right in," Corses assured her.

"So all we gotta do is make sure everyone in the room sees us real good, kill the Empress, and get the hell out of there."

Corses frowned, irritated. Why did they insist on making such an elaborate scheme seem so simplistic? It was so much more complicated that that. Once the Empress was dead, as Prime Minister, he would have to assume temporary leadership of Isphesne. When his poor grief-stricken people realized there were no heirs to the throne, the position would become permanent. And, of course, when the assassins were identified as the same terrorist that had killed the Emperor's son twenty years ago, Corses would be justified in continuing the war.

He smiled inwardly at his brilliance. It was a perfect plan. It was a shame that it had to come to this. If only Rava had been willing to listen to reason. He shook his head. Too late for regrets now. The plan was in motion.

"Just make sure that no one else gets hurt," he warned them. "It is imperative that none of the Colonists are killed or injured. It might make some doubt that they are behind the attack."

"Don't worry," Cecha said. "If you have your end covered, we can handle our end. Just make sure the shields are down long enough for us to transport out of there."

"They will be," Corses assured her. "Get some rest and stay out of sight. There are several people here that might recognize you." He headed for the door.

"Wait," Cecha called after him. "What about our payment?"

"The balance will be waiting for you when you reach the Gamma Quadrant. The pilot has instructions on how to retrieve it. You should have no trouble disappearing there with that much money." With a satisfied smile, he left.

CHAPTER 9

Rava stood and stretched the kinks out of her back. The two sides had been talking for almost four hours without reaching even a starting point and, besides being mentally exhausted, she was frustrated. It was more than time for a short break.

The other delegates headed for the table of food set up along one wall. She glanced at the wall chronometer, wondering if she had time to sneak a quick visit to the infirmary for something for a headache. She would make time, she decided, heading for the door.

Across the room, Corses, helping himself to a cup of the humans' coffee, didn't notice the young woman leave.

Quark watched on his monitor as the Empress left the conference room, certain she was trying to sneak out without being seen. Ambassador Wescott followed after a few seconds. The Ferengi wondered absently where they were headed.

He watched the remaining delegates mill about the room, helping themselves to refreshments. One of them, an older Isphesnian, was fidgeting nervously. Quark focused the monitor in for a closer look. Definitely nervous, Quark decided.

He sat back with a frown. In a human, the nervousness would be an indication that something was on the man's mind - something that, perhaps, shouldn't be. Quark watched for a minute more, then switched the monitor off. He reached under the desktop and pressed a button. A panel slid over the monitor, obscuring it from view.

If Odo caught him eavesdropping on the negotiations...well, he didn't want to think about the consequences. He was perfectly justified in what he was doing, he rationalized. It wasn't his fault he was stuck here on the outer edges of civilization, trying to eke out a meager living. He had to use every advantage at his disposal to balance the scales in his favor.

Besides, how could Odo object if he didn't know. Quark certainly had no intentions of telling him.

Rava spotted Julian staring intently into a microscanner. She debated leaving before he noticed her. He looked so busy; she hated to disturb him. But, she was here now. She would have to hurry, though, the meeting would resume in a few minutes.

Leaving her security escort at the door, she approached the doctor. He didn't look up until she was almost upon him. A warm smile lit his handsome features.

"I didn't expect to see you so soon," he commented.

"I had to sneak out for a minute. All of that hot air was making it difficult to breath."

Julian laughed. "To be honest, you lasted longer than I expected."

Rava swatted at his arm. "I am going to do this, you can put money on it. I just needed a bit of fresh air. Those damned perkas the Colonists smoke make my head hurt."

Julian frowned and picked up a scanner.

"It's only tension," Rava said. "I was hoping you could just give me a little something."

He examined the readings for a second, then reached into a drawer and retrieved a vial. "I gather the talks aren't going smoothly?" he asked, loading the vial into a hypospray.

Rava extended her arm for the shot. "We have yet to establish even a starting point."

"Well," Julian said with a smile, "I think you have found common ground already."

When Rava looked at him in confusion, he continued. "Both sides are tired of the killing."

Rava smiled broadly. "Spoken like a true diplomat."

"Oohh," Julian winced. "There's no need for insults."

Corses Varthen glanced nervously at the wall chronometer. Four minutes. He allowed his eyes to stray around the room, lighting for the briefest of instants on the security guards lining the walls. Four of the seven in here were his, as were four more outside in the corridor. His eyes lingered a little longer on the three station security guards.

Three minutes now. He almost felt sorry for the three men, but it couldn't be helped. One of the necessary evils of the plan.

He checked the time again. Everything was in place. Just two more minutes. He took a deep, calming breath and helped himself to another cup of the vile coffee. He needed to appear natural, at ease.

One minute more. He stepped away from the knot of delegates around the table of food. The Isphesnian guards near the door tensed ever so slightly and his eyes searched for Rava.

Panic sharpened his breath. The Empress was nowhere to be seen. Corses took a step forward, a thousand emotions coursing through him. He glanced at the guards, hoping to catch their attention. The dolts! Couldn't they see Rava wasn't here? They had to stop this! Everything would be ruined.

He took one more step toward the door and stopped, his face pale. A low rumble filled the room, silencing the delegates. Corses closed his eyes, visualizing the chain of events now set in motion. The explosive planted on the Isphesinian ship had been detonated. Security would be deployed to the area, leaving few of the Federation guards here.

A murmur of talk in the room drew his attention. He opened his eyes. The three station men were fidgeting, no doubt wondering what was going on. The Isphesnian guards each had a hand resting heavily on their weapon, awaiting their cue to act.

Julian opened his mouth to speak to Rava but closed it quickly when the floor began to tremble. Within seconds a low rumble reached their ears. The two security guards at the door moved to Rava's side, their hands on their weapons.

Rava looked up with wide eyes. "What's wrong? What happened?"

Before Julian could answer, a claxon sounded.

"Ops to Bashir," Kira's voice said through his comm badge.

"Bashir. Go ahead." He was already reaching for a medical kit.

"There's been an explosion at the docking ring, the Isphesnian ship. Casualties reported."

"I'm on my way." He headed for the door, then turned, remembering Rava. "Stay here. It's probably the safest place. I'll be back as soon as possible." He turned to Jabara, who had entered the room. "Prepare for casualties." With that he was gone.

"We've got security and maintenance teams already on the scene," Kira informed Sisko as he stepped from the turbolift. "Doctor Bashir is on his way."

Sisko nodded grimly. He looked to his science officer.

"The explosion originated on the Keynnu," Dax replied in answer to his unspoken question. "We have damage reports from levels three and four. Hull breach on four, but it's contained."

"Sabotage?"

Dax glanced up uneasily. "Looks like."

Sisko paced forward a few steps, then stopped. "But why? There are no delegates there."

"Maybe whoever did it wasn't aware of that," Kira suggested.

"Not very likely," Sisko frowned. "They would have to be pretty inept to make a mistake like that."

"Maybe it wasn't a mistake," Dax suggested.

Sisko shot her a questioning look. Suddenly, his eyes widened in realization. "A diversion!" He tapped his comm badge. "Sisko to Odo."

The shapeshifter's voice answered almost immediately. "Odo here."

"Constable, I think the explosion may have been staged as a diversion. Get as many security as you can spare to the conference room."

Without waiting for his acknowledgment, Sisko turned to Kira. "Get me someone in the conference room."

The Bajoran security guard in the conference room rested his hand lightly on his phaser, unsure of the need to draw the weapon. The low rumble died out, leaving in its wake a murmur from the delegates as they headed for the door. Before they got close, the sound of phaser fire in the corridor stopped them. The Bajoran pulled his weapon and turned toward the door. From the corner of his vision, he noticed the other guards, both station and Isphesnian, doing the same.

The door slid aside and Isphesnian guards entered the room. The Bajoran almost sighed in relief. Then his eye caught the sight beyond the door. Station guards were crumpled against blood covered walls. He barely had time to register their deaths before he saw the guard beside him turn his weapon toward him. He began lifting his phaser, acknowledging for the briefest of seconds that he would never make it.

Corses saw the Bajoran fall, a gaping red hole where his face had been moments before. Sickened, he turned away.

The other two station men were more successful at getting their phasers into action. Weapons fire filled the room. Corses realized the danger and dropped to the floor. As he fell, a searing flame of pain pierced his side. He was dimly aware that he had been caught by a stray blast. Damn...He tried to bring his hand up to his side to ascertain the extent of the injury, but his arm wouldn't obey the command. This wasn't suppose to happen! What about his carefully worked out plan? It was so simple. Obtusely, he noted that the firing had stopped.

Cecha followed the guards into the room and brought her weapon up, searching for the Empress. Where was she? Beside Cecha, Thurl muttered something under his breath. Her eyes swept the room, taking note of every detail.

The Empress wasn't here, neither was that Federation worm. Cecha bit back a curse when she spotted Corses lying in a puddle of blood. He raised up slightly. At least, he wasn't dead, she noted in relief. The whole damn plan had gone up in smoke, but maybe they could still salvage something from this.

Cecha searched quickly for a course of action. She and Thurl could still get out of here; they would have to take the old man, of course, or forfeit any chance of getting anything out of this.

"Cover them," she ordered the guards, pointing to the delegates. She knelt beside the Prime Minister, turning him over gently. He met her eyes weakly.

"The Empress isn't here," she whispered.

"I know," Corses said. "I tried to stop you..."

"We can still get out of here. Contact your ship."

The rumbling had stopped, Quark realized. He had been in the process of recounting yesterday's receipts - he didn't trust Rom's figures - when the explosion had hit. At least, he assumed it was an explosion, because seconds later claxons sounded and a security alert was announced.

Quark quickly scooped up the money and shoved it into the open safe, securing the lock. He opened the panel, revealing his hidden monitor. He touched a few buttons and the screen lit up fuzzily, then focused into the scene in OPS. Quark adjusted a dial, bringing the volume up.

Dax was saying something about an explosion on a ship, the Isphesnian ship, Quark thought. He listened idly to the talk for a minute. Sisko was explaining into his comm badge that the explosion was a diversion. He ordered security to the conference room.

Quark's eyes widened. He touched a few buttons and the picture of OPS faded, to be replaced by the scene in the conference room. Quark jumped to his feet, staring openmouthed at the screen. What in the hell had happened in there? There were four bloody bodies sprawled across the floor. Three were station security guards - or what was left of them. Quark moved his eyes quickly from the sight. A woman kneeled beside the other body, one of the delegates, it appeared. Two more guards sat against the wall, obviously wounded.

A half-dozen men and women held weapons on the remaining delegates.

Quark stepped back from the monitor. What did he do now? Sisko suspected something was happening in the conference room, but he had no way of knowing the extent of it. Quark dropped heavily into his chair. There was no way to let OPS know without telling them how he came by the knowledge. He frowned. Not a viable option.

He looked back at the monitor, then sighed. Sisko wasn't stupid. He would figure it out soon enough.

There was no profit in incriminating yourself, Quark reminded himself.

"There's no response from the delegates, Benjamin," Dax informed him.

"What about the guards in the room?" Sisko asked.

Dax shook her head. "No response from them or the ones in the corridor."

"That's because they're dead," said a voice from the turbolift.

Sisko turned to see Wescott approaching.

"At least the ones in the corridor are, including Bal Thoro. I can only assume the ones in the conference room are as well."

"How do you know?" Sisko asked.

"I saw it," Wescott said. He took a deep breath. "We had stopped for a short break. I stepped outside for a bit of breathable air - the Colonists smoke those damned perkas."

Sisko nodded impatiently. "What happened?"

"I wandered down the corridor, stretching my legs. I heard the explosion - that's what it was, wasn't it?" At Sisko's nod, he continued. "When I turned back toward the conference room, some of the guards were pulling their weapons. Before anyone could react, they shot the other guards." He sank into a chair, obviously shaken. "Just cut them down. They never had a chance."

Wescott looked up. "I don't know if they didn't see me, or if they just didn't care, but I got away and came straight here."

Damn! Sisko chewed his lip, thoughtfully.

"Then, whoever it is has the Empress and the rest of the delegates." Kira spoke what they were all thinking.

"No," Wescott said, shaking his head. "The Empress left the room shortly before I did."

Sisko looked at him. "Any idea where she was headed?"

"No, sorry."

Sisko turned to Dax. "See if you can locate her." Turning to Kira, he said, "Inform Odo of the Ambassador's report."

Hitting his comm badge, he paged Bashir.

The doctor responded immediately.

"Any casualties from the explosion, Doctor?"

"Two fatalities, sir; Isphesnians on board the Keynnu. There were no additional injuries."

Sisko could hear the somber note in his voice. The young man took death - anyone's - hard. "There has been an attack outside of the conference room with possible injuries."

There was a long pause on the other end. Dax looked up and caught Sisko's eye.

Finally, Bashir answered, an unidentifiable edge to his voice. "I'm on my way. Bashir out."

Probably just adrenaline, Sisko decided, turning his thoughts back to the delegates.

"Benjamin," Dax called into his thoughts, "the shields around the conference room just lowered."

"What?!" Sisko took two steps to stand behind the Trill. "Get them back up!"

The young woman's fingers flew over the board. "I can't," she said, her calm facade straining a bit. "The controls won't respond."

"Can you bypass it?"

"I'm working on it. Give me a minute."

Sisko drummed his fingers on the back of Dax's chair. He hoped he had a minute to give her. Seconds stretched into long minutes while all of OPS waited in silence.

Finally, "I've got the back-up system online." She breathed a sigh of relief.

"Just in time," Kira announced. "I'm picking up a transporter beam from a nearby ship. It's just moved into range. I can't identify it."

"Get a tractor beam on that ship," Sisko ordered.

CHAPTER 10

"Damn!" Cecha swore. They had been about to transport out when the shields had suddenly raised again. "You promised the shields would be down!"

"I told you the window of opportunity would be small. If everything had gone according to plan you would be out of here by now." Talking was taking too much effort. Corses closed his eyes briefly, swallowing hard against the pain. He had to think fast, before the woman did something foolish.

Opening his eyes again, he met her gaze with more strength than he felt. "It's not a total loss. We still have the advantage. As long as we have hostages, we are still in control."

Cecha followed his gaze across the room to the delegates. Slowly, cruelly, she smiled.

Corses took a painful breath and continued. "I have money waiting in the Gamma Quadrant; enough for all of us to live comfortably for the rest of our lives."

"We can demand a ship..." Cecha began.

"No," Corses interrupted. "We won't get anywhere in one of their ships. They would rig it blow up or, at the very least, place a tracking device on it."

Contempt contorted Cecha's face. "What good is your money if we can't get to it?"

"I have a plan..." Corses began.

Julian entered the infirmary looking as pale and grim as Rava had ever seen him. She hurried to his side.

"What's happened?" she demanded.

He set his medical kit down. The eyes of Jabara and the three medical technicians watched him closely, waiting for their orders.

"There were two fatalities from the explosion on the Keynnu. The bodies will be arriving any minute. In addition, five more bodies, security guards, will be arriving shortly. Place them all in stasis until I have a chance to examine them further."

He turned face to Rava. "There was an attack outside the conference room. They have assumed that all of the delegates have been taken hostage."

The blood drained from the Empress' face. "Dear God, no! Not again!"

Julian put his arm around her trembling shoulders. "I think we should go to OPS, see if we can find out exactly what's going on."

"Odo to OPS."

Sisko answered the hail immediately. "Go ahead, Constable."

"Captain, it looks like we have a hostage situation here." Even through the comm badge Sisko could hear the tension in the shapeshifter's voice. "There were five casualties in the corridor. I have no idea how many there might be inside the conference room. The door is secured and we have received no response from inside."

"Is there any indication of how many there might be?"

"None."

Sisko glanced up as the turbolift moved into view, bearing the Empress and Doctor Bashir. Turning his attention back to Odo, he said, "If they have demands, we should hear them shortly. I think you should be here when they come."

"On my way. Odo out."

Sisko turned to the approaching Empress. "I take it you've heard?"

"Julian told me." She sounded as shaken as she looked. "Have there been any demands?"

Sisko shook his head. "Not yet. I expect that to change any minute." Why did the two young people look so pale?

Wescott moved up and took the young woman's hand. "Are you all right?" His question was directed at Rava but his gaze encompassed Julian, as well.

Rava dismissed the concern with a wave of her hand. "I thought you were in there, Valerian."

"I slipped out for some fresh air just after you left. You know, that damned smoke..."

Rava nodded gravely.

Wescott turned to Sisko. "Can't you just beam the delegates out of there?"

Sisko shook his head. "Not until we know more about the situation."

Kira's tension-filled voice drew everyone's attention. "Captain, we're being contacted from the conference room."

Odo and O'Brien stepped from the turbolift as Sisko nodded at the Bajoran to put it through.

"This is Captain Benjamin Sisko," he announced into the communications panel.

A woman's deep, steady voice answered. "You must realize by now that you have a...situation here."

Sisko waited for the woman to continue, not willing to volunteer any information.

After a brief pause, she said, "I'll take your silence as affirmation. We have nine hostages, Captain Sisko, and no compunction about killing any or all of them. If you doubt that, I suggest you talk to Empress Rava."

Sisko glanced at Rava. She was standing gray-faced in the doctor's arms.

"Our demands are simple, Captain. First, we want access to a sub-space communications channel."

Kira glanced at him with a surprised expression that mirrored his own.

"I'll consider your request." Sisko forced his tone to remain even.

"You had better do more than that," she warned, "or you will be receiving a delivery that I don't think you want."

Sisko hesitated. He had no reason to believe the woman was bluffing. "All right, but it will take a few minutes to set it up."

"Second," the woman continued, "we need a doctor. There are wounded in here, including one of the delegates."

A startled cry drew Sisko's attention to the Empress. Shaken before, she was absolutely horrified now. Doctor Bashir's own face was unreadable. The young man opened his mouth to speak but Sisko stopped him with an upraised hand.

"Out of the question," Sisko informed the woman. "I will not add to the number of hostages you already have."

"Not even if it means some of the hostages will die?"

Sisko debated his options silently. He wasn't about to send one of his officers into the room, but he had to consider the lives of the delegates.

"That's what I thought," said the woman, correctly interpreting his hesitation. "There is no reason for anyone else to die, Captain, but if the doctor isn't in here in ten minutes, one of the hostages will. Oh, and in case you get any bright ideas about flooding the room with some kind of gas, I think you should know that I am holding an explosive device that is programmed to detonate the instant my hand relaxes."

Kira shook her head, indicating the link had been broken.

Sisko turned quickly to O'Brien. "Can we beam them out of there?"

"Not without knowing how stable the explosive is," he reported grimly.

"Captain..." Bashir began.

Rava threw her arms around the doctor, clinging to him as though her life depended on it - or his, Sisko thought with a start. "Julian, you can't! You know what will happen." There was desperation in her voice.

Bashir gently removed the woman's arms and handed her to Wescott. The Ambassador led Rava back a step. Bashir then turned to Sisko. "We have no choice, Captain. They will kill those hostages. There are seven bodies in the morgue now to prove that."

"If you go in there you will be facing the same dangers," Sisko warned him.

Bashir swallowed hard. "I know that, sir."

Was that fear Sisko detected in the young man's troubled eyes?

"Sir?" Bashir prompted.

Sisko took a deep breath. "I don't like it." Another pause, then, "All right, doctor. Gather what you need and report to Lieutenant Reese in the corridor. I'll let him know the situation."

Rava jerked out of Wescott's grasp. "Julian, please, don't do this."

Bashir turned tortured eyes to meet hers. "I have no choice, Rava." He placed his hands lightly on her shoulders and attempted a smile. "This time it will be different." His words were spoken softly, for Rava's ears only.

He released the woman and turned toward the turbolift. He was stopped by Dax's voice.

"Julian..."

He turned back to see everyone watching him, concern on their faces. Dax spoke for them all. "Be careful, Julian."

He nodded, meeting each eye in turn, before turning and leaving.

Rava stood in stunned silence, watching him until he disappeared. Then, to no one in particular, she said, "You don't realize what you've done. You've just sent him to his death."

Julian hurried into the infirmary and began gathering the things he felt he might need. It would be helpful if he knew the extent of the injuries he would be dealing with. Most likely phaser burns or...His mind raced, trying to remember the weapons favored by the Isphesnians. Detonators! Bullets that exploded on impact, he recalled with a vile curse. That would be a much more difficult wound to deal with.

He forced his mind to concentrate on the task of packing. He refused to think beyond the moment, knowing the fear that would come would paralyze him. There were patients to consider, patients that were depending on him.

His mind briefly lingered on the promise he had whispered to Rava moments before in OPS. Things would be different this time, he believed with a confidant assurance. This time there was no one to torture him with - there was no Jessie. And these terrorist - that's what they were, he realized - could not be as ruthless as...as the others. They were willing to allow medical treatment to the hostages. That was a good sign, he decided.

Julian checked the time. Less than five minutes left. He snapped his kit shut and hurried out the door.

"He's ready, Captain," Kira informed Sisko.

Sisko knew without asking that she referred to Doctor Bashir. He glanced at the chronometer. Two minutes to spare. He frowned ruefully, wishing for the hundredth time that there was another option.

He had allowed the terrorist to place their subspace call, against his better judgment. It had been traced and decoded immediately. Their request, for a ship to pick them up, had surprised him. He wasn't sure what he expected, but it wasn't that. The ship was due to arrive in four hours. Too long for this to be allowed to continue. But he was sure that there would soon be further demands.

"Sir?" Kira prompted.

Sisko jerked his attention back to the present. With a deep sense of foreboding, he nodded to the Bajoran. "Tell him to proceed and keep the channel to his comm link open. I'm sure they will take it but maybe we'll get something from it first."

Kira relayed the information into the communications panel.

Sisko turned, his eye catching sight of Rava and Wescott. The two had stepped away from the center of activity and were having a private conversation. The young Empress was an emotional wreck, that became painfully obvious as he watched them. Wescott appeared to be trying to calm her down. He didn't seem to be having much luck.

Sisko sensed there was more at work here than the woman's concern for the doctor's welfare. If he wasn't so concerned with his own problems at the moment, Sisko might have attempted to discern the real cause of Rava's anxiety. Maybe later.

"I've got the primary shields back online," O'Brien announced.

"Any idea why they were down in the first place?" Sisko asked.

"The controls were definitely tampered with," O'Brien informed him grim-faced. "I'm attempting to trace the sabotage to its point of origin now."

"He's in," Kira announced softly. She adjusted the volume on Bashir's comm line for all to hear.

"Finally," said a strange male voice. "I take it you're the doctor?"

There was silence. Sisko assumed Bashir had nodded.

The silence continued, then, "He's clean," the man announced. "No weapons."

The voice of the woman Sisko had talked to earlier spoke. "This is a communicator."

Static filled the line.

Sisko met Dax's eyes. She looked quickly away, but not before he saw the worry there. He knew it was mirrored in his own face and he forced an emotionless mask over his features. This was no time for personal concerns.

Quark watched the drama unfold from the safety of his locked office. He had set up a second screen to monitor the events in OPS as well as in the conference room. He adjusted the volume on the OPS monitor and leaned back, listening to scattered conversations.

Suddenly, his eyes caught movement on the other screen, just as his ample ears picked up Kira's words. "He's in!"

Quark looked to the conference room just as Doctor Bashir stepped through the door. He quickly turned up the volume.

"Finally," said a large, muscular man, moving forward to intercept Bashir. "I take it you're the doctor?"

Bashir nodded and the man moved forward to search him.

Quark focused the monitor in closer on the Human's face. Bashir was staring at the man, his dark features suddenly white. Did the Human know the man? Quark frowned and looked closer. Bashir's eyes were filled with an emotion that the Ferengi had seen before in many faces, but never in the face of the young doctor. From the normally warm brown eyes shone a cold hatred so intense that Quark found himself shuddering.

"He's clean," the man informed the woman behind him. "No weapons."

The woman shot the man a disgusted look and snatched the comm badge from Bashir's chest. "This is a communicator." She dropped the device to the floor and stomped it.

Quark leaned back and watched the screen. As Bashir was pushed toward the wounded men, he glanced up briefly at the male terrorist. For a terrifying second, Quark thought the fool was going to attack the giant. Then, slowly, Bashir turned toward his patients and began assessing the injuries.

Moral dilemmas were not something the Ferengi was familiar with. Normally, when presented with one, he simply took the route that offered the most profit potential. He drummed his stubby fingers absently on the desktop, never taking his eyes from the monitor, as he considered the problem.

There could be no profit in notifying Sisko of the monitor. No good would come of it at all. On the other hand, however, gratitude had sometimes led to profit in the past.

He drummed some more, thought some more.

Would Sisko and the others be so grateful that they would overlook the fact that Quark was illegally monitoring the talks? He frowned. Sisko might, but Odo was doubtful. But what if it led to the safe recovery of the delegates? Odo might be more forgiving. And if it helped the doctor, Dax would certainly be very grateful. He grinned lewdly. That thought alone was almost enough to make dealing with Odo worth it.

Suddenly, the outer door to his office slid open. Quark jumped to his feet and attempted to insinuate himself between the intruder and the monitors.

"I beg your pardon, Quark," Garak said with exaggerated politeness. He stepped forward, his gaze moving around the Ferengi.

Quark hurried forward and attempted to divert the Cardassian's attention. "Did you want something?" he asked impatiently. His eyes narrowed abruptly. "How did you get in here? I had that door locked."

Garak smiled in that damned infuriating way that only a Cardassian could. "Surely by now, Quark, you know that I have ways." His eyes once again found the monitors. "Just as I have ways of knowing you are monitoring the activities in the conference room."

Quark took the Cardassian's arms and attempted to turn him toward the door. "I don't know what you are talking about. I was..."

"You were watching the local drama with the hostages," Garak finished for him.

Quark gave up trying to lie his way out of it. "How did you know?" he asked resignedly.

"That's not important," Garak said, circling around Quark to study the monitors. He raised an eye ridge at the one with the scene from OPS. He obviously hadn't known about that one. "What is important is what you are going to do about it."

"Why should I do anything about it?" Quark didn't feel it necessary to inform the tailor that he had been considering that very question just moments ago.

Garak stared silently into the monitor for a long moment. Quark watched the play of emotions on Garak's face as he studied the events unfolding. He actually cared about the human, Quark realized with a shock. All this time he had thought the tailor was using the doctor's company to gain information.

When Garak raised his head to meet Quark's gaze, the characteristic smile was in place, but there was steel in his dark eyes. "Because lives could depend on it," he answered. "And if that alone is not motivation enough consider the potential profit."

The Ferengi snapped to attention. "Profit?"

"I'm sure you have noticed that business has fallen off in the wake of the explosion and subsequent security alert." Garak's voice dripped with sarcasm. The bar was all but deserted and had been all afternoon. "The sooner this crisis is resolved, the sooner you can resume business as usual. Besides, consider for a moment the reaction of the delegates if they are safely extracted from their present situation."

Quark's ears lifted ever so slightly as the realization sank in. "A reward..."

He failed to notice the Cardassian's small smile of victory.

CHAPTER 11

The thought that Thurl would be here had never occurred to Julian, though he realized now, it should have. His optimism that the situation could be resolved without further bloodshed had dissolved the instant he had entered the room and seen Jessie's murderer waiting for him.

He had recognized the man instantly, but had been too stunned to react. Anger and fear had battled for prominence in his chaotic thoughts. He had been further surprised when the man had shown no sign of recognizing him. Then, he realized that, while Thurl still looked exactly the same as he had in Julian's nightmares for the past twenty years, he did not. He had grown up, changing a great deal since that day.

Julian knelt beside the wounded Isphesnian Prime Minister, forcing himself to concentrate on the medical emergency. His hands shook as he reached into his medical kit for a tricorder. He took a deep breath and began his exam.

The man had taken a detonator bullet in the side. Julian could tell from the amount of blood on the man's clothing and the floor around him, that the wound was bad. He pulled away the shirt from the injury and drew in a sharp breath.

"Well?" said a female voice behind him.

Julian looked up, briefly taken back to another time and place, seeing this same woman waving a rifle at a group of frightened school children. He swallowed hard and forced the emotion from his voice. "He's lost a lot of blood." He turned to the tricorder, studying the readings. "There is shrapnel still in the wound. He needs surgery."

"Will he live?" the woman asked.

"Not unless he gets some help."

"That's why you're here," she scowled.

"I can't do much without proper equipment. Let me take him to the infirmary."

The woman laughed. "Not very likely!" She stepped closer, bringing her weapon up. For the first time Julian noticed the device in her left hand, grimly aware that her threat to blow up the place was sincere. "I suggest you do your best," she said evenly. "If he dies, so do you!"

Julian turned back to his patient before she could see the confusion in his face. Why would she be so concerned about one of the delegates? It made no sense. Twenty years ago this same man and woman had ruthlessly murdered children and now they were showing such concern for one of their hostages? Julian shook his head, convinced there was more to this.

He administered a painkiller to the Prime Minister, though the man was unconscious at the moment, then set about trying to stabilize his vital signs. He was frustrated by his inability to give the man the care he needed.

When, at last, he was satisfied that he had done all he could for the moment, he moved to the two injured men sitting against the wall. He was relieved to see that the wounds were phaser burns - serious enough but much simpler to treat. It took only a few minutes for him to administer painkillers and dress the wounds.

As he worked on one of the men, his eyes raised unconsciously to meet Thurl's steely gaze. The big man must have seen something there because he narrowed his eyes and moved closer.

"You have a problem with me?" the man growled.

Julian tried to force the hatred from his eyes. It was impossible. Not trusting his voice, he shook his head and turned back to his ministrations. But Thurl wasn't easily dissuaded.

"There's something about you..." he said slowly. "I know you from somewhere, don't I?"

"That's doubtful," Julian answered without turning. "Unless you've been on the station before."

"Give it a rest, Thurl," the woman said. "Go check on the hostages."

Julian risked a glance at the man and instantly wished he hadn't. The sneer on his face was the same one etched in Julian's memory. The one he saw in his nightmares every night.

"It'll come to me," Thurl promised as he walked away.

Thurl and the woman argued loudly for a long time. Julian tried to tune out the shouts, though he couldn't make out much of what they said. He concentrated instead on his physical pain, oddly grateful that it was severe enough to keep his mind from the other pain in his soul.

He clamped his hand tighter to his side as a spasm of pain twisted him over double. He bit his lip to keep from crying out. By the time the pain had lessened, he was sweating and gasping for breath.

Rava sat up and looked at him, concern darkening her eyes. "Julian?"

He struggled to keep his voice level. "I'm all right." His face hurt when he talked.

"You don't look all right," Rava argued. "You look bad."

Julian slowly straightened. "Shh!" He gestured toward Stefan, asleep beside him. "Do you want to wake him?"

Rava lowered her voice. "You're bleeding again."

"It doesn't matter," he said. 'Cause we'll all be dead soon, he silently added.

Rava tore a strip of cloth from the inside of her jacket and began dabbing gently at the side of his face. He winced but didn't pull away. He knew the girl needed something to keep her mind from wandering too far.

"You're eye is swelling," she announced.

Like he didn't know that! He could hardly open it.

Another spasm of pain hit, drawing a soft moan from him. Rava held him until it eased. Julian sat up, tears in his eyes. When his vision cleared, he noticed that the two adults had stopped arguing. The woman was gone. Thurl was watching him, the fury in his eyes visible even from this distance. Julian shuddered involuntarily.

Finally, the man turned away. Julian breathed a silent prayer of thanks.

Rava was watching him closely. "You need to rest. Why don't you lay down for a few minutes?"

Julian was too weak to argue. He tried to stretch out but that made the pain worse, so he drew his knees up to his chest and closed his eyes. After a minute, Rava gently lifted his head and slid her legs under it for a pillow. He was grateful.

He fought against the images that floated before his closed eyes; grotesque images that he didn't want to see. After a few fitful moments, the images faded and he drifted into a restless sleep. It seemed only a few minutes later when Rava's startled cry awoke him. His eyes flew open, instantly spotting Thurl storming toward them.

"Close your eyes, Julian," Rava whispered from between clenched teeth. Desperation flooded her plea. "Stay asleep." she gripped his arms so tightly, it hurt.

Biting his swollen lip against the pain in his side, Julian forced away her hands and pulled himself to his knees. The big man was almost on top of them now. Julian looked up and met cold, hard eyes. His own eyes held a challenge.

"You'd like to take me on, wouldn't you, you little bastard," the man said, smiling cruelly. "I look forward to snapping your scrawny neck." He took a menacing step forward.

Julian flinched unconsciously, drawing a laugh from Thurl. "You're not so tough."

Julian hated himself for the act but he hated the man more. His hatred gave him courage. He pushed himself to this feet and faced Thurl. Then, Julian did the only thing he could think of. He spit on the man!

Time stood still. The unbridled fury in Thurl's eyes terrified Julian but he stood his ground. Then, from out of nowhere came the man's fist, knocking Julian hard against the wall. He slid to the floor, leaving a bright red streak of blood in his wake. He felt small hands on his shoulders, holding him down - Rava!

"Please, Julian," she whispered. "Stay down."

"Yes, Julian," Thurl mocked. "Stay down."

Julian pushed away the hands and stood, swaying.

"You're begging for it, boy," Thurl warned.

Julian wiped the blood from his eye with the back of his hand and stared with cold hatred at the man.

Thurl shook his massive head. "You're too easy." Instead he reached for one of the children huddled in fear on the floor. His beefy hand caught hold of Stefan's shirt and he hauled the boy to his feet.

Julian reacted in desperation.

"NO!" he screamed, launching himself between the whimpering boy and Thurl.

Stefan lost his balance and fell to the floor. From the corner of his eye, Julian saw Rava pull the boy to her, wrapping her arms around him.

"I ain't never seen anybody so anxious to die," Thurl said.

Julian almost fell as the man grabbed his arm and yanked him toward him. Their eyes met for a brief second. "I guess I'll be doing you a favor, boy."

Thurl started across the room, dragging Julian behind him. He could hear Rava's sobs behind him. They reached the door and stopped. Thurl snatched hard on Julian's arm, pulling him up against his large belly.

Terror clutched at Julian's heart as the massive arm snaked around his neck. He squeezed his eyes shut. Jessica's face flashed in his mind's eye and he relaxed suddenly. "I'll be with you soon, Jessie," he whispered.

But instead of the pain and darkness he expected, there came a rush of noise and motion. The arm around his neck relaxed slightly and Julian risked opening his eyes. The doors on the far side of the room were thrown open and the room was filling with soldiers firing weapons.

Rescue? Julian's mind tried to grasp hold of that but he was having trouble concentrating.

Thurl stepped backward through the door, pulling Julian with him. Julian tried to break free, but was unable to fight the muscular arm holding him.

The sound of weapons fire was closer now. Thurl dragged Julian across the room to another door, keyed open a digital lock, and stepped through. As he did, he released his hold on Julian and shoved him away. Julian hit the floor hard and lay still, afraid to move. The door slid shut on the man, but not before his words echoed through the room.

"The game ain't over, boy. We'll meet again."

Julian lay still for several long moments, trying to convince himself he wasn't dead. He heard someone enter the room, but could not find the strength to look up. Voices spoke above him. Then, gentle hands turned him over.

Julian tried to focus on the face but it just didn't seem worth the effort.

"Damn!" someone close said. "He's bad. Get a medic in here quick!"

Another voice, not so close, spoke. "There's a transporter in there. He had it set to overload as soon as he was away. Can't tell how many transported out or where they went."

"It's all right, son." A new voice beside him. "We're going to get you some help."

Julian let out a soft groan as hands slid over the tender area on his side. A soft hiss sounded against his neck and the pain began to lift away. He felt himself losing consciousness. Fighting it for another moment, he forced his eyes to focus on the face above him.

It took two tries, but finally, he managed to ask, "Rava? The others?"

The face smiled gently. "They're fine, son. You all are. Just relax now and go to sleep."

Julian closed his eyes. You all are! Didn't the man know? Julian relaxed and let the darkness claim him. His last thought was that they would never be fine again.

Kira looked up at the sound of the turbolift and bristled. What in the hell were they doing up here in the middle of a security alert? Quark and Garak stepped from the lift and headed toward Sisko. Kira intercepted them before they got very far.

"Hold it!" She allowed all of the frustration she felt to seep into her voice. "Whatever this is about, I'm sure it can wait. We are in the middle of a crisis here."

Quark stepped back from the fury on the woman's face. Garak put his hand in the middle of the Ferengi's back to prevent his retreat. "We have business with the Captain," the tailor explained. "Urgent business."

Kira considered the pair for a long moment wondering what business they could possibly have that was important enough to bring them to OPS. Quark was decidedly nervous, she noted, but the Cardassian faced her scrutiny with a calm assurance that spoke of determination.

She was about to demand an explanation when she noticed Sisko at her shoulder.

"Problem, Major?" His tone indicated he was in no mood for distractions.

"Captain Sisko," Garak said before Kira could answer. "I believe you will want to hear what we have to say."

Sisko met the Cardassian's eyes. What he saw there surprised him. Garak's dark eyes, normally blank, revealing nothing, were alive with emotion.

The captain nodded toward the small knot of officers in the operations well. Garak and Quark headed that way, followed closely by Sisko and Kira. Odo looked up suspiciously as the group approached, but said nothing.

Sisko leaned back against a console and folded his arms across his chest. A formidable presence, Kira noted with a smile. Quark's neurotic fidgeting told her he had come to the same conclusion.

"Well?" Sisko prompted.

Garak cleared his throat and looked pointedly at Quark, waiting for the Ferengi to begin.

Quark went into one of his classic Ferengi cringes, stepping away from the sharp gazes directed at him.

"Quark," Odo growled menacingly. "If you have something to say, I suggest you get to it."

Sisko tired of waiting and turned back to Garak, his eyebrows raised.

The Cardassian smiled and said, "It seems that by a string of most fortunate business transactions Quark, here, has managed to gain possession of a means of seeing into the conference room."

Everyone in the room straightened at the news. Odo was the first to find his voice. "Just how did you manage to accomplish that?" he asked gruffly.

"Well..it...uh...I..." Quark sputtered.

"We can deal with that question later," Sisko said. "Right now, we need access to that transmission."

Odo shot the Ferengi a look that said he would be pursuing the question later - at great length.

Quark, strengthened by the obvious excitement in the room, straightened. "I can divert the signal here if you will grant me access to a computer."

Dax stood and motioned for him to use her console. She leaned over Quark's shoulder as he begin punching keys to bring up the image.

While the Ferengi worked Kira sidled over to Garak. "I know Quark didn't come up here on his own volition," she said softly.

"Indeed?"

"Don't play games with me, Garak," she snarled. "I'm not in the mood for it."

"And it's no wonder," the Cardassian said softly. "I am as concerned for Doctor Bashir's safety as you are, dear woman."

Kira glanced up, briefly meeting his gaze. "I could almost believe you mean that."

"There's no reason why I would lie about that," he said, sounding surprised.

Kira bit back the retort that sprang to mind. "How did you know about Quark's eavesdropping?"

"Does it really matter?" Garak asked.

Kira frowned. "No, I guess not. Whatever your motives, thanks."

Garak dipped his head in acknowledgment of the gratitude, knowing that it was difficult for the Bajoran to say.

"That should do it," Quark announced.

The officers turned as one to face the main viewing screen. The familiar star field faded to a screen of bright static. After a few seconds, the static cleared and the picture focused to reveal the scene in the conference room.

Kira leaned forward and studied the screen. There were five guards on their feet, two sitting against a wall, plus a very large man and, presumably, the woman Sisko had talked to. All were armed. The nine delegates had been divided into two groups and were sitting on opposite ends of the room, each group well guarded.

There appeared to be three injured men, the two guards sitting against the wall and one of the Isphesnian delegates. Julian was working on the delegate. Kira narrowed her eyes when she caught sight of the young man's face. Considering the circumstances, she expected to see any of a number of emotions displayed there - concern, anxiety, nervousness, even fear - but the pure, cold hatred she saw caught her completely off guard. And she wasn't the only one that saw it.

"Something's wrong with Julian," Dax observed with concern.

A sudden gasp spun Kira around to see the Empress staring in horror at the screen. The blood had drained from her face, leaving it as pale as death. As the officers watched, the young woman collapsed into a nearby chair. She raised trembling hands to her face.

Wescott kneeled beside the chair and took her hands in his. "Rava, what is it?"

The woman stared at the Ambassador, but her eyes were glazed, as though seeing another sight. Finally, she focused on Wescott's face. Her voice, when it came, was hoarse and low. "It's Thurl, Valerian!"

Wescott's face went white. He jumped to his feet and spun around to face the screen. "Are you sure? It's been so long..."

"I see him every night in my nightmares. It's him! Look at Julian!" she demanded. "He knows!"

Sisko watched the exchange in confusion. He glanced at Dax, who was staring at the Empress.

Wescott spun around to face the Captain. "Benjamin, you have to get Julian out of there." There was desperation in his voice.

Sisko almost laughed at the absurd suggestion. "If I had a way to do that I could just end this thing now."

"You have to, Captain Sisko," Rava said, rising. "That man will kill Julian!"

Sisko looked to Wescott, his expression demanding an explanation.

"They...have a past, Benjamin," Wescott said cryptically. "Rava's right, he will kill Julian...or Julian will try to kill him."

Sisko's anger mounted visibly. "I have had just about enough of your word games, Ambassador. If you know something pertinent to this situation..."

"Benjamin!" Dax's voice interrupted the outburst.

Sisko turned to the Trill, ready to snap at her, too. He was stopped by her expression. He followed her gaze to the screen. The man in question had moved up behind Julian and was saying something. Sisko motioned to Kira to increase the volume and the man's booming voice filled OPS.

"It'll come to me soon enough," Thurl said to Julian.

Julian continued to stare into his tricorder, as though he hadn't heard the man. His hands betrayed him. His knuckles were white where he gripped the instrument and his hands trembled slightly.

"It's the eyes," the man continued. "I've seen that expression before."

"Often, I would imagine." Julian wished for the words back the instant they were out of his mouth, but it was too late.

Surprisingly, the man laughed. "Mebbe so." Suddenly, the laughter stopped and the man leaned over, looking closely at Julian. "That's it! I'll be damned!"

Julian tensed, knowing he had made a drastic mistake.

"You're the kid with the mouth! Damn, what're the odds of that? After all these years..."

Julian tightened his grip on the tricorder, silently cursing himself.

"I've thought about you a few times," the man admitted. "Though I have to admit, the memories weren't all that fond." Thurl walked around to face Julian. "I should have killed you first." His voice had grown cold. "You caused me a lot of grief. It was your fault that boy got himself killed - the Emperor's son. That's when the whole damned thing fell apart."

It was nothing he hadn't told himself a thousand times before. Proctor was dead because he had tried to protect him and Jessie. Hearing the words from this man's lips was not nearly as damning as hearing them in his own head day after day for twenty years. He looked up to meet Thurl's eyes, and shuddered. These were the eyes that haunted his every waking moment, terrorized his dreams.

"I told you then, it wasn't over. I just never thought it would take twenty years to finish." Thurl leaned back against the wall, seeming to know the control he had over Julian's emotions. "I can still remember the terror on your face when I took that little girl."

Julian's breathing stopped. He squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip hard.

Thurl continued, enjoying the moment. "I've often wished you had still been conscious when I finished with her. She screamed your name over and over - Julian, wasn't it? "

Julian bit down harder on his lip, tasting blood. The man was baiting him, he knew that. He wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing how badly he was hurting him.

"I can remember your screams, too, as I kicked you. What was it you called her? Jessie, I think it was. Yeah, Jessie."

Hearing her name come from the lips of this man was more than Julian could bear. Before he knew what he was doing, he found himself flying toward the man, his hands wrapping around the beefy throat. "You murdering sonofabitch!" he screamed, not recognizing his own voice. "That was my sister!"

CHAPTER 12

Dax heard the gasp of surprise and realized with a start that it came from her. Around her she heard similar sounds. She barely had time to register her shock. Her eyes were glued to the drama on the screen.

The sudden violence of the attack caught Thurl off guard. He smashed back against the wall, Julian's fingers digging into his throat, drawing blood. Strong arms grabbed Julian from behind, pulling him away from Thurl. He struggled briefly, knowing it was fruitless.

As Thurl approached, Julian was propelled in memory back through time to another attack. He shuddered involuntarily, knowing what was coming.

He saw the fist as it lifted and braced himself. Lights exploded in Julian's head. He lifted his eyes in rage to meet murderous ones. Thurl hit him again, and again. Blood flowed into Julian's eyes and he blinked hard, trying to focus. The hands holding him relaxed and he fell to the floor.

His fury propelling him, he launched himself from the floor at Thurl. This time the man was ready for him. Forgetting his weapon, he ducked under Julian's fist and swung with his own. With an audible sound the blow landed in the doctor's stomach, driving him to his knees, gasping.

Thurl laughed at him then, the sound like a distant roar in Julian's ears. He determined to stop the laughter at any cost. Thurl was stronger by far, he knew, but he was quicker and he took advantage of that. He fell back and kicked out with both feet, staggering the giant. Rolling to his feet, he was ready when Thurl turned on him. Julian feinted as the man lunged, and sent a right at him coming in. His fist connected with a crunch and he knew instantly the man's nose was broken.

The man roared in pain and stopped in mid-stride, blood flowing from the crushed nose. For an instant their eyes locked, then Thurl grabbed at him. Julian wasn't quite fast enough to evade the grip. Thurl slammed him hard against the wall, one hand pressed against his throat while the other grabbed a handful of hair and jerked his head painfully back. Julian's fight ceased as he struggled for air. Thurl pressed harder and darkness closed in.

The group in OPS watched the scene in mute horror. Thurl visibly increased the pressure on Julian's neck and it became evident that the young man was losing consciousness.

Suddenly, the woman, who had been watching the fight in obvious amusement, stepped forward, swinging her weapon around to cover the two men. "Stop it!" she yelled at Thurl. "That's enough!"

Thurl shot her a stubborn look without loosening his hold.

"We need him, Thurl," she said slowly, trying to reach through his fury. "You kill him and you'll bring the whole damned place down on us. Get a hold of yourself."

Thurl relaxed his hold on Julian ever-so-slightly, reluctant to give in completely.

The woman put her hand over his on the doctor's neck and pulled it loose. Julian slid down the wall, coughing. He fell to his knees, one hand holding himself from falling further, the other rubbing his bruised and bloody neck.

"When we finish with him," the woman said, "you can have him, I promise. Do whatever the hell you want, I don't care. But you have to wait."

Thurl grinned and walked slowly away. The woman scowled at his retreating back, then set her weapon against the wall and helped Julian to sit up. He leaned unsteadily against the wall. She took his chin and turned his head to inspect the damage.

"Well, you're the doctor, but I think you'll live. Shame he had to mess up such a handsome face." She grinned suggestively at him. "Kinda makes me wish I had been a little nicer to you when you were a kid."

The woman straightened, retrieving her weapon. "Sit here a moment. Get your wits together. Then, get back to your patients." With that she walked away.

Sisko cleared his throat, startling more than one of the observers. He turned to face Wescott, dark anger flashing in his eyes.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me he had a connection to the previous terrorist attack? I would never have let him go in there knowing that."

Wescott turned sorrowful eyes to meet anger filled ones. "I wish to God I had, Benjamin."

Sisko had little compassion for the man. "Your silence may have cost that young man his life," he said angrily. "I think it's time for you to tell us everything."

Rava stepped forward. "I think I should be to one to tell you, Captain Sisko." She smiled shakily at the Ambassador. "After all, I was there."

Sisko crossed his arms on his chest and waited.

The Empress took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Let me start at the beginning. Ambassador Bashir came to Isphesne at the request of my father to mediate an end to the tensions between Isphesne and her colony worlds. Tensions were all there were at that point; there had been no violence, except for a few minor isolated instances. There was no reason to believe there would be danger. Knowing the assignment would be a lengthy one, the ambassador brought his family with him.

"Jessica and Julian attended our school. It was a special school for the children of the Ministers and Parliament, in addition to my brother, Proctor, and me. There were only a few of us, fourteen, so we were all in the same class. Proctor was the oldest, almost fifteen. The youngest was six."

Rava stopped and visibly gathered herself. "I know it's not in the reports; there are few, other than Isphesnians, that know about it and very few of them know the whole story. Everyone involved wanted it that way." She raised her eyes and Dax could see the play of strong emotions there. "The terrorist attack was against our school."

Dax glanced at the other officers. O'Brien was staring at the Empress, his face portraying his disbelief. Odo's face was as unreadable as ever, though Dax thought she could detect a hardening of the unfinished features. Kira looked at Rava, but her eyes were unfocused, as though remembering her own nightmares. Sisko's expression revealed little emotion, but she was familiar enough with him to see the shock in his eyes. A glance at the Ambassador showed only an expression of unbearable sadness. Dax reminded herself that he knew how this story turned out. Even Quark and Garak, who had retreated a few steps, appeared shaken at the news.

"Our teacher was killed right away. We were taken hostage and transported to a warehouse somewhere. I never did find out where it was." Rava's gaze turned inward. "One of the children was killed right off. I remember them saying it was so our parents would take the threat seriously." Her voice lowered. "That man, Thurl, killed him right in front of us, just snapped his neck as though he were an animal being put out of his misery." She closed her eyes. "I can still hear his screams of terror, the bones snapping."

Dax suppressed a shudder.

Rava opened her eyes and continued. "Every two hours he came for another one. One by one they were taken. Out of fourteen, only seven survived."

Dax hated herself, but she had to ask, "They took Jessica, didn't they?"

Rava nodded. "Julian tried to stop him. Thurl beat him almost to death but he kept trying until he lost consciousness." Her voice broke and she stopped, fighting back tears.

"Dear God!" O'Brien exclaimed softly. "Poor Julian."

"Proctor tried to intervene and was killed. It was an accident, though, and it scared them. The woman in charge, that woman," she indicated the woman on the screen, "had given orders that Proctor and I were to be saved for last."

Dax looked up at the young Empress. She must be in as much pain as Julian. It was no wonder the two seemed so close. The horrors they must have shared!

"Julian was in bad shape," Wescott added. "I was at the hospital when they brought him in. He had broken ribs, a punctured lung, a broken jaw, and a concussion, as well as internal injuries."

"He almost died trying to save Jessica," said Rava. "He did everything he could have, yet, to this day, he blames himself for her death. He has never forgiven himself for failing her.

"Later, when Thurl tried to take Stefan, the youngest, Julian put himself between the man and the boy. I think he wanted to die. He was in so much pain."

Rava closed her eyes. "I remember the horror I felt watching him being dragged across the room, seeing the man's arm wrap around his neck. I couldn't watch. I closed my eyes and waited for the sound."

"What happened?" Dax asked gently, when Rava stopped.

"The sound I heard was not Julian dying. The door burst open and a lot of soldiers ran in. I didn't see much. There was shooting and someone fell over us, shielding us from the fight, I guess. By the time it was over and I could see again, there was blood and bodies everywhere."

"What about Julian?" Kira asked.

"I couldn't see him anywhere. I thought he was dead." She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. "Thurl had used Julian as a shield to make his escape. He was taken to the hospital before I could see him. He almost died from his injuries. I didn't see him again for several days."

"Damn," whispered O'Brien. "I had no idea."

Kira shook her head and paced across the room. "Neither did I." Her voice was soft. Dax looked up. Was that a note of guilt she heard?

"That's why Emperor Martan was so adamant for war," Sisko realized.

Wescott nodded. "He was convinced that there could be no peace with people that would terrorize children."

Sisko pictured his own son briefly and shuddered. "I'm not sure I would disagree."

O'Brien, also a father, grunted his agreement.

"I never knew he had a sister," Sisko said, leaning back against a console. "There's nothing in his records about her."

Wescott cleared his throat. "Jessica wasn't just Julian's sister. She was his twin."

Dax covered her mouth with her hand, suppressing a cry. Her heart was breaking for her friend. So much pain for so many years and no one had ever suspected.

From the corner of her eye, Dax noticed the fleeting look of agony on Garak's face. It surprised her. She thought the tailor would have seen most everything in his life. Certainly this horror couldn't affect him this way. Could he really care so much for the young doctor? Was it possible his friendship wasn't merely a cover?

Kira sat down heavily. "I've heard there is a special bond between twins."

"Jessica and Julian were proof of that," Wescott confirmed. "They were as close as two people could be. You never saw one without the other. They finished each other's sentences. They seemed to communicate without the need for words. It was as if they knew one another's thoughts."

"They were like two halves of one person," Rava said softly. "Jessica was left-handed, Julian right-handed. Jessica loved social events, being around people. Julian was more comfortable alone in his room with a good book or his studies. Jessica excelled at literature, art, music. Julian preferred math, sciences, languages, things that required a more logical approach."

"It must have been unbearable to loose her like that," Dax said sadly.

"He told me once, in a rare moment when he actually talked about her, that he felt as though half of his soul had been ripped away."

Dax's gaze was drawn back to the young man on the screen. "Why couldn't he tell us?"

"With all we've been through together," O'Brien said, "you would think he had learned he could trust us." The Irishman sounded more than a little hurt.

"I don't think it was a matter of trust," Wescott assured him. "It was a private pain that he didn't want to share."

Rava sighed heavily. "He's never discussed it with anyone, except for Valerian, a little, and me. Not even his father. Julian is a wonderful doctor. His patients receive the very best care from him. But when it comes to himself, he doesn't know what's best."

"Are these two the only ones you recognize?" Odo asked, turning the talk back to business.

Rava nodded. "But it was so long ago and I really only had reason to remember the two of them."

"If these same terrorist were willing to ruthlessly kill children before, why did they demand a doctor for the Prime Minister?" Kira asked.

"Indeed," Odo agreed. "And why have they made no demands beyond a ship to escape in?"

"What were the demands in the original attack?" Sisko asked Wescott.

"They wanted independence for the colonies, removal of Isphesnian officials and troops from all four colony worlds. Demands that were impossible to satisfy in the time allowed - if at all."

"They don't appear very organized," Dax commented. "If I didn't know better, I would say they don't have a plan."

"Or maybe their plan isn't working out exactly the way they intended," Garak offered from behind the group.

Sisko looked up in surprise. He had forgotten the Cardassian and Ferengi were still here. He considered the suggestion.

"That is a possibility," Dax conceded. "But what went wrong?"

"That," Sisko answered, "is what we have to figure out."

Julian removed the bandages from the Prime Minister's side and carefully examined the wound. It didn't look good. He had managed to stop the bleeding but the shrapnel from the exploded bullet would have to be removed soon. The man's life signs were stable for now but that wouldn't last long, he knew. How long before the ship would arrive? He wished someone had seen fit to let him in on that bit of information.

He replaced the bandages and sat back on his heels, his eye's covertly searching out Thurl. The giant was pacing nervously across the room, occasionally lifting his weapon in one of the delegate's faces, laughing at the reactions. Julian struggled to control the hatred pounding in his chest.

"You better not let him see that look on your face."

Julian started at the voice. He hadn't heard Cecha approach.

"I can only hold him off so long, you know," she continued. She nodded to the Prime Minister. "How's he doing?"

"He's holding his own for now," Julian reported gravely. "That won't last much longer. He needs surgery." He looked up at Cecha. "Why is he important to you? You don't exactly have a history of concern for hostages."

The woman's eyes flashed for a moment, then cleared. "I remember your mouth. You taught even Thurl a few new obscenities." She laughed lightly.

"You didn't answer my question." Julian was in no mood for a stroll down memory lane with this woman. She was as guilty of Jessie's death as Thurl.

"That's not something you need to know. You just keep him alive until our ship gets here."

"If you're in such a hurry to get out of here, why didn't you just demand one of our ships?" He didn't care if he pissed her off; what more could they do to him?

Cecha laughed. "You must think we're stupid! How far do you think we would get in a Federation ship? It would be too easy to sabotage. We wouldn't even make the wormhole. This way we know the ship and we know the pilot."

Julian looked back at his sedated patient. Something nagged at his thoughts as he watched the ragged up and down rhythm of the man's chest as he breathed. Suddenly, it clicked into place. He looked back up at the woman, his eyes wide in realization. "You had to have someone on the inside." He glanced pointedly at the gun-wielding guards. "Of course, you did have them, but there's no way they could have sabotaged the shields. I have no doubt you could have done it but I don't think you could have gained access to the system. And we both know Thurl is too stupid."

Cecha appeared flattered by the back-handed compliment. "You have such a high opinion of Thurl," she laughed. "What point are you trying to make?"

"Varthen was your inside man," Julian said much more calmly than he felt. "He set this up, planned it." He watched Cecha's face for confirmation of his theory. "But I don't think this is exactly what any of you had in mind. Something went wrong."

"Not only handsome, but intelligent, too."

Julian ignored the woman's suggestive tone. "You expected to find the Empress here."

Cecha smiled approvingly. "You're doing great, go on."

He considered a moment, then continued. "I'm not sure exactly what the plan was at that point, unless it was simply to kill her. That would have disrupted the talks, but surely there were other, less risky ways to do that."

Cecha nodded but said nothing.

He glanced back at Varthen. "Of course! Rava has no heirs. As Prime Minister, Varthen would have to step in as temporary ruler of Isphesne. But to what end? Was it simply power, wealth?"

"What else is there? With Rava dead, supposedly at the hands of Colonial agents, Varthen would have been justified in continuing the war."

"He's profiting from the war?" Julian was aghast as another realization hit him. "He was behind the original attack!"

"Maybe you're too smart for your own good." Cecha studied him intently for a long moment. "That little girl was your sister?"

Julian's eyes flashed fire. "I will not discuss her with you!"

"Either you're a mighty brave man or you value your life very little." She looked pointedly at the Prime Minister. "Either way, I suggest you put aside your personal feelings for him and perform whatever miracles you have to in order to keep him alive."

CHAPTER 13

Julian doubled checked the readings grimly. Varthen's life signs were growing weaker by the minute. Like it or not, something had to be done soon, or the man would die. Julian glanced up, his eyes searching for Cecha. They found instead, Thurl. The big man sneered at him, running his hand meaningfully over the barrel of his weapon. Julian met the gaze determinedly until he remembered his patient. With one last glare of cold steel, he broke the stare and looked for Cecha. He located the woman and gestured for her to come over.

"What is it, handsome?"

Julian ignored the leer on her face. "How much longer until your ship arrives?"

"That doesn't concern you."

Julian's temper flared. "Maybe not, but this man's life, such as it is, does concern me! I need to know how long I have before you intend to move him!"

Cecha blinked in surprise, but the ferocity of his tone had its effect. "Two hours, tops."

Julian frowned, his forehead creased in thought. "That should be plenty of time."

"Time for what?"

"Varthen won't make it much longer unless I can seal off that bleeder and remove the shrapnel."

"You're going to operate here?" Cecha didn't bother to hide her surprise.

"Unless you're willing to let me transfer him to the infirmary." Julian met her surprise with sarcasm.

Cecha shook her head adamantly. "I'm sure your friends would have too many surprises waiting for us." She looked at the Prime Minister. "Can you do it? Here, like this, I mean?"

"I can't say it's my first choice," Julian frowned. "But I don't see that I have many options." He looked around the room, his eyes lighting on the table. "I'll need help moving him up there."

Cecha motioned over two of the guards. With their help Julian settled the man onto the table and began removing instruments from his medical kit. "I'll need your assistance."

"What?" Cecha backed up a step.

Julian looked up, meeting her eye. "I need your help."

"I don't know anything about doctoring," the woman protested.

"It doesn't matter." He nodded toward the instruments he had laid out close by. "Just hand me those as I ask for them."

"Is he still at it?" Kira asked, stepping from the turbolift. She glanced at the view screen. Julian was still standing beside his patient, his bloodied hands buried in the man's side - right where he had been thirty minutes ago when she had left OPS to accompany Odo to check in with Reese.

"Still at it," Dax reported. "I think he's run into some problems."

"Hmph," Kira snorted. "I shouldn't wonder! He's trying to operate on the man that had his sister killed, on a conference table, in less than sterile conditions, with practically no equipment at all!"

"He's trying to save the man's life," Dax stated softly.

"I know," Kira sighed, her eyes glued to the screen. "I just can't help but wonder what happens if the man dies."

"If anyone can keep him alive, it's Julian," O'Brien said, moving closer to the two women. He was feeling increasingly fidgety as time crept by. There was little to do, allowing plenty of opportunity for the mind to wander.

"Where is Sisko?" Kira asked, looking around.

Dax gestured with her head toward the captain's office. "He and the Ambassador have been trying to reach Admiral Kelley for the last twenty minutes. I don't think they are having much luck."

Kira slid into the chair at her station and checked the readouts. Satisfied that nothing drastic had happened while she was gone, she let her gaze sweep the room. The Empress was still sitting nearby staring grimly at the view screen. She had not spoken or moved in some time now. Dax had attempted to persuade the young woman to go get something to eat, but Rava had refused. Kira decided to give it a try.

"You should get something to eat," she suggested, moving up behind Rava.

The Empress looked up, startled. Kira was moved by the depth of emotion in the woman's face.

"I really couldn't eat," Rava said, shaking her head.

"Then let me bring you some coffee, or maybe some tea," Kira offered.

The young woman started to refuse, then smiled. "You know, Julian introduced me to a tea the other night. It really was quite delicious."

"Tarkalean tea," O'Brien said, chuckling. "It's his favorite."

"Yes, that's it," Rava smiled. "Perhaps a cup of that would help calm my nerves."

"I'll get it," Dax offered, heading for the replicator.

"You and Julian are very close," O'Brien said.

Rava glanced back at the screen before answering. "Yes, we've been through a lot together. My father sent me to live on Earth after the war started. I was constantly surrounded by people, but I felt very alone. Until Julian returned."

Dax returned with the tea.

"Thank you," Rava said. She sipped the hot liquid. "We used to talk for hours. Or at least I talked. Julian rarely discussed the attack or Jessica, but he was a wonderful listener and he always seemed to know just what to say to make me feel better."

Dax smiled. "It's a trait that has served him well in his profession."

"He's a wonderful doctor, isn't he?" Rava smiled proudly. "I've followed his career closely. Did you know he's the youngest graduate ever from Starfleet Medical Academy? And the youngest ever to receive posting as a chief medical officer?"

Kira groaned. "Believe me, we know." She stopped, realizing that the Empress might not be receptive to criticism of the doctor. "Let's just say he's very proud of his accomplishments."

O'Brien bit back a chuckle. He was well aware of the Bajoran's irritation with what she perceived as Julian's arrogance.

"As well he should be," Rava said defensively. She seemed to understand the unspoken sentiment. "Perhaps Julian spends so much effort pointing out his accomplishments because no one else does."

"What do you mean?" O'Brien asked. "I'll be the first to admit that Julian's a brilliant doctor."

"But do you ever tell him?" Rava's eyes met the human's. "Do any of you ever tell Julian that you appreciate him, or at least his talents?" She stared at each in turn. "You have to understand that, though he is confidant of his abilities as a doctor, Julian is very insecure of himself personally. He's never managed to get the attention he has worked so hard for. He's spent the better part of his life isolated from his family, desperate for, but never receiving, one word of praise from his father."

"Wait a minute," Kira said, raising her hands in protest. "Julian has told us time and again that his father is perfect. He had the best of everything growing up, every advantage money could buy."

"He was telling the truth, as he sees it." Rava paused, wondering just how much she could say without invading her friend's privacy. "Julian's father was never a very demonstrative man. He loved Julian, I'm sure, still does, in his own way. But after the attack, he withdrew completely. The relationship wasn't helped by the fact that Julian feels that his father betrayed him and Jessica by taking them into a dangerous situation."

"Surely, Ambassador Bashir wouldn't have taken them there if he had known the dangers," O'Brien protested.

"I'm sure you are right," Rava said. "But to the mind of a ten year old, it was a betrayal. Parents are supposed to protect you, keep you safe. And because that issue was never resolved, it has festered for twenty years. Julian didn't travel much with his father after that. A couple of years after the attack, his father put him in a boarding school on Earth. I don't think he saw much of Ambassador Bashir after that, other than the occasional holiday visit."

"What about his mother?" Dax asked.

"She never really recovered from Jessica's death. She was emotionally unavailable for Julian."

Dax shook her head sadly. "It explains so much."

"I suppose I could have been a little more patient with him," said O'Brien.

Kira frowned, but said nothing.

"My own father was light years away and more than a little preoccupied with the war," Rava continued. "Julian became my surrogate family and I, his." Her eyes searched out Julian on the view screen. "For years, he was all I had."

The door to Sisko's office slid open and he and Wescott exited, their expressions grim.

"It didn't go well?" Dax asked as they approached.

Sisko frowned. "I've been authorized to make 'whatever decisions are necessary to resolve the situation'."

"Well, that's helpful," Kira said mordantly.

"We were able to track down Varthen's holdings in several key shipyards on Isphesne as well as two of the colony worlds," Wescott said.

"So, he was working both sides of the field," O'Brien said.

"It would appear so," Wescott agreed. "He has reaped - or should I say raped - millions from the war."

"But it wasn't enough, evidently," Rava said bitterly. "He had to risk it all on the chance to gain more."

"Greed is seldom satisfied," Sisko observed.

A gentle beep from Dax's science station drew the Trill's attention. She slid into her seat and studied the readouts. "Benjamin, we're picking up an unidentified ship on long range scanners."

"ETA?"

"Forty-five minutes."

Dax adjusted her sensors. "It's them, Benjamin," she announced uneasily.

"Right on time." Sisko echoed Dax's tone. He glanced up at the view screen where it appeared Julian was finishing up his emergency surgery. "I see no need to notify them just yet."

He turned back to face his remaining senior staff. "We need a viable plan now, people. I want ideas."

"Is that it?" Cecha asked wearily.

Julian finished sealing the incision before answering. "For now, but he's going to need proper attention soon. His liver was badly damaged and my measures were temporary at best. All I did was buy him some time."

Cecha nodded. "That's good enough. Just buy me enough time to get to his money."

Julian glanced up sharply. "You don't care if he lives or dies, do you? So long as you get the money."

"You got it, lover," Cecha smiled. She glanced over at Thurl and lowered her voice. "Listen, this old coot's got enough stashed away to provide for a life of luxury on any planet in the galaxy. More than enough for the both of us."

Julian stared at her, trying to suppress the revulsion he felt at the implied suggestion. This woman had calmly ordered the deaths of seven children, including his sister. But maybe he could find a way to use the woman's interest to his advantage. Could he hide his hatred for her enough to convincingly play the part of traitor? It was worth a try. He forced a calmness into his voice that he did not feel. "What about Thurl?"

"He's an idiot, but a useful idiot. Sometimes it pays to keep him around."

"He hates me," Julian pointed out. "Almost as much as I hate him. One of us will end up dead."

Cecha frowned. She looked again at the Prime Minister, her brow creased in thought. "Can you keep him alive long enough to get to the money?"

"How long?"

"I'm not sure, he wouldn't tell me too much. I would think no more than a couple of days."

Julian made a pretense of considering the information, then nodded gravely. "I think so. What about the delegates? If you want me to go with you, you will have to release them."

"We'll need some of them to guarantee our escape. The rest we can release as soon as our ship arrives."

"Why not release them all? No one needs to know I'm a willing participant. You could still use me as a hostage."

Cecha seemed to be seriously considering the suggestion. Suddenly, she smiled. "How do I know you would be worth the risk?"

Julian matched her smile with a brilliant one of his own. He saw the woman's reserve visibly dissolve. "I don't know," he said softly. "Maybe you'll just have to take a chance."

Cecha glanced over her shoulder at Thurl. The big man's attention was on one of the two groups of delegates. The woman turned back to Julian. She placed her hand behind his head and quickly pulled it down to meet his lips with her own. The kiss was brief but intense.

Julian forcibly quelled the knot of revulsion in his stomach.

Cehca stepped back. "Most definitely worth it," she pronounced with a deep sigh.

"What about the delegates? Will you let them go?"

"I'll think about it," she said evasively. "But something has to be done about Thurl. He will kill you if he gets a chance. I can convince him we need you for a while, at least until we get the money. After that..."

"I'll have to kill him first." Julian had no trouble making the statement sound convincing.

Cecha looked at him approvingly. "You surprise me. I wouldn't have thought you had it in you. We'll have to wait until we're safely away from here. We may still need him."

Julian glanced up to see Thurl headed their way. He quickly turned his attention to his patient, adjusting fresh bandages over the wound.

"You two finally finished? It took long enough."

"He ran into some problems," Cecha explained impatiently.

"The ship will be here soon. We need to make plans."

"We can't move on them as long as she has that bomb," Odo stated calmly.

"I think Julian has something in mind," Dax said.

"What makes you say that, old man?" Sisko asked.

"Why else would he play along with Cecha? He's already managed to talk her into releasing most, if not all, of the hostages."

"We can't stand around watching on the chance that he has something in mind." Sisko's frustration was showing.

"According to their plan," Odo said, bringing up a schematic of the station on a nearby computer, "they will have to take this route to the docking ring." He pressed a button and the route lit up. "The rest will depend on where the ship docks. Our best opportunity will be shortly before they board the ship. If they intend to release the hostages, it will be then. Their attention will be divided and they may be more vulnerable."

"We have to find a way to neutralize the threat of the bomb," Kira said. "Then it simply becomes a matter of fire power."

"With the hostages in the middle," Sisko reminded her.

"If we let them get off the station, the hostages will be even more at risk."

"I have no intentions of allowing them to leave the station," Sisko said firmly. He turned to O'Brien. "Can we get a tractor beam on that ship without it being detected?"

"It'll depend on what type of sensors they have on board."

"Get to work on it," Sisko ordered the Irishman. Turning to Kira he said, "I'm still waiting for a idea on neutralizing the bomb, Major."

For once, Kira had no ready response.

"We have to get someone close enough to Cecha to keep her from detonating it," Sisko said.

"The instant she detects trouble, she will detonate it," Dax warned.

Sisko turned to Odo. "What if you were hiding in the airlock? Do you think you could move quickly enough to stop her?"

Odo considered the suggestion. "It will depend on if she passes close enough to me. It would be a risk."

"It may be the best chance we have," Sisko said gravely. "Wait until the last possible moment to move on the chance that she will release some of the hostages." He swiveled to face the whole group. "We have two priorities here. Our first concern is the hostages. We have to take every precaution to see to it none of them are injured. Our second priority is to see to it these people do not get off this station."

"Captain," Kira's agitated voice drew his attention. "She's contacting us."

Sisko glanced at the screen and nodded to Kira. She touched the panel and Cecha's voice filled the room.

"Captain Sisko?"

"I'm listening," he answered calmly.

"Our ship should have long since been in your sensor range. I'm sure you planned on informing us eventually. What is it's arrival time?"

Sisko glanced at Dax's computer. "Fifteen minutes."

"I'm grateful you chose not to lie, Captain. These are our demands. First, I want the corridor cleared between here and the docking bay. If I see so much as one person, security or not, I will kill one of the hostages. If we make it there unmolested, we will release some of the hostages. It all depends on you, Captain.

"Once we are safely on the ship, I want unmolested passage to the Gamma Quadrant. We will keep Doctor Bashir as a guarantee that you do not attempt to track us."

"What about the rest of the hostages?"

"That will depend on you. If all goes well, I may feel generous enough to release them. But he stays."

"How do I know you'll honor your word?"

"You don't," the woman laughed. "You'll just have to take a chance, Captain Sisko. But if you're feeling the least bit hesitant, I have several hostages here that I could use to convince you."

"That won't be necessary. Your ship will be docked at bay three. The path will be cleared momentarily."

"I want an anti-grav stretcher outside this door when I open it. You have five minutes, Captain Sisko. Then we move."

As the transmission was cut, Sisko turned to Kira. His words, though delivered calmly, took a great deal of effort. "Contact Bajor, Major. We may be needing a doctor."

Cecha watched the five minutes tick by on the wall chronometer then turned to the guards. "You two get the stretcher and get him loaded. The rest of you get one hostage each. He will be your shield out of here. If anything goes wrong, kill him." She looked over to the two injured guards. "Sorry guys, but this is the end of the line for you. We don't have the means to lug you along."

One of the guards started to protest but the woman's raised weapon stopped him.

"Got something to say?" She smiled cruelly at their silence. "That's what I thought."

"He's going with me," Thurl snarled stepping toward Julian.

"Uh-uh, I'll take him. You're a little too short tempered where he's concerned. We still need him to keep Corses alive long enough to get to the money."

Thurl looked ready to argue the point but he simply shrugged and grabbed one of the delegates.

Cecha took one more look around the room, assured that she had covered every possibility, then stepped toward the door. "Okay, let's do it. Look sharp, people. There's no margin for error."

"They're moving, Captain," Ensign Bavier informed Sisko from OPS.

"Give them two minutes to get clear, then notify Reese to move his team in behind them. And get a medical team into that conference room." Sisko did a quick mental calculation. It would take approximately six minutes for the group to reach the bay area. He turned to address the assembled group of security officers and senior staff. "Okay, this is it. No one is to make a move until I give the word. We have to give Odo a chance to secure the bomb." He glanced at each serious face in turn, hoping he appeared calmer than he felt. "If the Constable is unable to gain control of the explosive before they have time to react, then we'll have to take our chances. Bear in mind they may have reinforcements on that ship. We cannot allow them to leave the station with hostages. Move in and secure the hostages as quickly as possible. Let's try to do this with as little bloodshed as possible.

"I know I don't have to remind anyone of the importance of staying out of sight. Major Kira, move your team into position. The rest of you follow me. Remember, wait for my mark. Good luck."

The assemblage quickly broke up and headed for their positions. Sisko led his group down the corridor, a safe distance away and watched as they took up their positions. He took a last look around and, satisfied that no one could be seen, took cover.

Time all but stopped as the seconds ticked slowly by. He ran through the precautions he had taken as they waited. Had he covered every base? One mistake, one miscalculation...

He blinked the sweat out of his eyes and strained for any sound that might indicate the terrorists' approach. There was none - yet. Sisko's mind wandered back to the story Rava had told in OPS. The horrors those children had had to face! It was a wonder any of them had managed to grow into emotionally functional adults.

A murmur of sound drew his attention. They were coming. Sisko tapped his communicator and whispered softly into it. "They are moving into position. Raise shields and containment fields."

He drew in a breath and, without realizing it, held it. The sounds came increasingly closer. Sisko risked a look and saw the group round the corner. The two guards guiding the stretcher were in the lead, followed by three more guards and Thurl, each holding tightly to a hostage. Cecha and Julian brought up the rear. The woman had her weapon trained on the doctor but otherwise appeared to be paying him little attention. From where he hid, Sisko could see that Julian was alert and tense, his eyes sweeping the area. With a satisfied smile, Sisko realized that the young man expected an attack.

As the group drew closer to the airlock, Sisko tensed, ready to move. He watched the woman approach Odo, disguised as a control panel on the wall. Then, when she was almost close enough for the shapeshifter to move, she stepped sideways, away from the wall. Damn! The plan was going to fail, Sisko realized gravely. He waited one more instant to be sure. The guards moved to enter the airlock. It was now or never.

Sisko hit his communicator. "NOW!"

CHAPTER 14

Julian knew that if Sisko intended to move against the terrorist, it would be here at the airlock. He approached it ready. When he heard the captain's shout, he was prepared. He swung out with the medical kit in his left hand as he reached for Cecha's hand with his right. The woman saw the move and attempted to duck, almost making it. The kit grazed the side of her head dazing her momentarily. Julian's hands wrapped tightly around the hand holding the explosive device, preventing her from detonating it. Cecha fell to the floor, pulling Julian down on top of her.

Julian was dimly aware of cries and phaser blasts around him, but he didn't have time to register the fight. Cecha had dropped her weapon when she fallen. Julian saw her reach down to her belt with her right hand and pull her knife. He saw her bring the knife up for a strike but he didn't dare release his hold on her hand. The knife slashed down. Julian rolled to the side and the knife bit into his left arm, slicing it deeply from shoulder to elbow. He cried out against the sudden pain, but retained his hold on Cecha's hand. Taking a risk, he turned loose with one hand and grabbed Cecha's wrist, twisting until she dropped the knife. For a brief second their eyes met, then Julian swung a punch as hard as he could with his injured arm. The blow caught the woman in the jaw and her body went limp.

Julian lay still for an instant, panting to catch his breath. The sounds of battle around him jarred him to his senses. He sat up and slowly pried the bomb from Cehca's limp fingers, careful to keep pressure on the sides. He glanced up, for the first time taking in the scene around him. Most of the fighting had moved down the corridor. There must have been additional men on the ship; many of the bodies around him, he didn't recognize, though they were definitely Isphesnian.

Movement to his left drew Julian's attention. Down the corridor, Thurl dragged his hostage toward a grate that concealed a maintenance tube. The big man pulled the grate free with one hand and then pushed the hostage away. Julian watched in horror as Thurl turned his gun on the delegate and pulled the trigger, blowing away half of the man's face. Before Julian could react, Thurl ducked into the opening and disappeared.

Julian jumped to his feet, and searched for a familiar face. Far down the corridor in the opposite direction, he saw O'Brien, in a hand-to-hand fight with an Isphesnian. Julian ran toward the Irishman, arriving just as he landed a hard blow, finishing the struggle.

"Julian!" O'Brien said breathlessly. "Thank God!" He caught sight of the blood on the young man's uniform. "Are you all right?"

Julian ignored the question and shoved the bomb forward. "Can you take care of this?"

O'Brien whistled softly. "I guess we'll find out." He wrapped his fingers carefully around the device.

Julian waited until he was sure the man had a tight grip on it before removing his own fingers. Without another word he turned and ran back down the corridor.

"Julian, wait!" he heard his friend call after him. Ignoring the concern in his friend's voice, Julian headed for the passageway, stopping only long enough to grab up Cecha's gun as he passed the unconscious woman. Ducking into the dimly lit tunnel, he began crawling forward on hands and knees.

This is how it should be, he reasoned, just him and Thurl. This was his chance to do what he couldn't do twenty years ago to save Jessie. He was grown now and, though the man was easily twice his size, Julian knew he had the strength of his hatred. He came to a fork in the conduit and hesitated, unsure which way the man had gone. Closing his eyes for a second, he let his senses make the decision for him. He opened his eyes and turned left, repeating the process at each juncture. Julian knew he had made the right decisions when he came to an opening. In his haste to escape, Thurl had not bothered to replace the grate.

Slowly, carefully, Julian stepped from the tunnel and glanced around. He wasn't entirely sure where he had ended up. It appeared to be a storage room. It was almost as large as some of the smaller cargo bays but was filled with crates and equipment. Full shelves ran all the way to the ceiling.

A whisper of sound startled Julian. Had he caught up with Thurl that quickly? Slowly, Julian stepped around a stack of crates toward the sound, his weapon ready. There, grinning widely at him, was the giant.

"I knew someone was following me," the man said. "I guess I got lucky that it was you."

Julian ignored the taunt in the man's voice. "Throw down your weapon."

Thurl laughed. "So you can shoot me? I don't think so."

"I have no intention of shooting you unless you make me," Julian informed him coldly. "I'm looking forward to your trial."

Thurl shook his massive head. "You know you want to kill me. You want to make me pay, personally, for your sister's death."

Julian tried to control the emotion on his face but knew he had failed when he saw the big man's twisted grin.

"Come on, Julian, you know you want to kill me. And I don't think you're willing to settle for blowing me away with that." He indicated the gun. "You would get much more satisfaction from doing it with your bare hands."

Julian's grip on the weapon tightened in an effort to control the trembling in his hands. He knew the man was baiting him but he wanted so badly to take him up on the offer. He wanted to feel his hands around the man's neck, he wanted to hear the bones snapping. He almost smiled at the image.

"You really do want to kill me with your bare hands, don't you?" Thurl threw his gun to the side. "One-on-one, the way it should be. For Jessie's memory, Julian. Come on!"

Julian's face contorted into a mask of hatred. He threw his own gun to the side, taking note of where it landed against a nearby stack of crates. Locking eyes with the giant, he realized this was exactly what the man had wanted. Thurl was sure that he had the advantage in a hand-to-hand battle, but Julian silently vowed to let him live just long enough to realize his mistake.

Thurl lunged at Julian, throwing a punch at his head, but, in his anger, he threw the blow too soon and Julian beat him to it with a jab to the mouth. The speed and force of the punch startled the bigger man, and he stopped dead in his tracks. Julian swung a right to the ear but was less successful with the second punch. Thurl stepped in and swung a glancing blow to the side of Julian's head. For a moment the two men stood toe to toe and swapped punches, but Julian broke off and backed up. He knew that against a larger, stronger man, that was dangerous. He had to take advantage of his strengths, which he figured were his quickness and intelligence.

Thurl threw a left that caught Julian in the chest, knocking him into a stack of crates. Thurl came after him, and Julian quickly stepped toward the man and landed two good blows to the body. If he was to win this fight, he knew it would have to be with moves like that.

Thurl recovered quickly and threw a hard blow to the head. Groggy and in pain, Julian fell back against the crates. Thurl moved in swiftly, punching with both hands. One fist caught Julian over the eye, another crashed into the pit of his stomach. Julian took the blows, then saw his chance and back-heeled the giant, flipping him to the floor.

Julian shook his head to clear it and turned to the man as he rose. Light glistened from an object in Thurl's hand and Julian tensed, realizing the man had drawn a knife. Instinctively, he backed up a step. Thurl stepped slowly toward him, turning the knife in his hand. Suddenly, he thrust, sweeping his hand in a dramatic motion. The tip of the knife sliced neatly through Julian's uniform and bit painfully into the skin across his chest. Julian stepped back further, his eyes never leaving the man's face. Thurl was playing with him, he knew. That thrust could have finished him, if the big man had chosen to. Thurl wanted to see him suffer first.

Julian stepped swiftly to the side as Thurl swung forward once more, the knife biting across his chest again. Julian took one more step back and this time risked a quick look down. Almost...one more step...

Thurl lunged once again. This time Julian dropped to his knees, grabbing for the gun he had thrown aside earlier. He rolled to his back and swung the barrel up, firing in the same instant. The force of the blast caught Thurl in the chest. Blood sprayed from the wound. Slowly, the big man looked down in disbelief, then fell forward. Julian rolled quickly to the side to avoid being caught under the now lifeless body.

For a long time, Julian lay still against the cool floor, taking deep breaths against the pain from a dozen wounds. Then, he struggled to a sitting position beside Thurl's body. Carefully, he felt for a pulse that wasn't there. After another long minute, he pushed himself to his feet and headed unsteadily for the door. He made it as far as the closest wall, where, in a daze, battered and beaten by a storm of blows, he felt himself sliding to the floor. He was still sitting there, an eternity later, when the door opened and someone entered.

Voices spoke around him but he didn't care enough to try to discern the words. Finally, one of the voices spoke near him and he opened his eyes. After a minute, his vision cleared and he saw Sisko kneeling beside him, O'Brien's concerned face just behind him.

"Julian," Sisko said, "can you hear me?"

Julian swallowed hard and attempted to answer. It took a minute to find his voice. "Thurl's dead."

"We noticed," Sisko smiled. "Don't try to move. There's a medical team on the way."

"What happened...back there...The hostages?"

Sisko frowned. "Two of the delegates were killed. There were nine deaths altogether, three of them station guards."

Julian's pain-filled eyes sought out O'Brien. "The device?"

"Disarmed," the Irishman said. "It was a relatively simple matter, actually."

From beside him, Julian heard another voice.

"You don't need to worry about that, Julian," Dax said. "It's over. Everything is going to be all right now."

Julian turned his head and winced as a wave of pain moved up the side of his face. He saw Dax's worried look and attempted a feeble smile to reassure her. Just behind the Trill he saw the shadow of someone else, but couldn't find the strength to focus on it. He closed his eyes. It didn't matter, anyhow. It was over now. Slowly, he reached for the darkness, welcoming the comfort it promised. He felt strong hands holding him up as he lost awareness.

Sisko gently grabbed Julian's shoulders as he closed his eyes and slid sideways, into unconsciousness.

"Is he all right?" Kira asked from behind Dax.

Sisko felt for the doctor's pulse and nodded. "It's strong and steady. I think he'll be okay."

The medical team arrived and Sisko moved back to allow them room to work on the young man, gesturing for the others to do the same. They watched in silence while the nurse scanned Julian and administered a hypospray. The woman tapped her communicator. "Medical emergency. Three to beam to the infirmary. Energize."

The nurse, her assistant, and Julian shimmered and disappeared, leaving the four officers staring at the blood soaked floor where the young doctor had lain seconds before.

Dax turned to the captain. "Benjamin?"

Sisko nodded, understanding her concern. "Go ahead, old man. We'll be down as soon as we finish up here."

Dax smiled her thanks and hurried from the room, headed for the infirmary. Sisko watched her leave, then turned to speak to Odo, who was quietly examining Thurl's lifeless body. "What have you got, Constable?"

The shapeshifter stood and faced Sisko. "This man had a knife and, judging from the wounds on Doctor Bashir, he intended to use it. It was quite obviously self-defense."

"Why would you have thought otherwise?" Kira asked.

Odo looked at the Bajoran in surprise. "You heard the Empress' story. Doctor Bashir had more than enough motive to want the man dead and he did follow him here himself instead of waiting for security. No one could have blamed him for wanting to kill the man after what he had been through at his hands."

"You're wrong," O'Brien stated firmly. "If it had been me, or almost anyone else, that may be true. But not Julian. He may have wanted the man dead, but he doesn't have it in him to cold-bloodedly kill anyone, no matter how much they deserved it."

"His concern for the Prime Minister is proof of that," Kira agreed. "He did everything in his power to keep the man alive, even after finding out the man was responsible for the original attack against the children."

"You may be right," Odo conceded. "I suppose I've just seen too much of the darker side of people's nature."

"In any case," Sisko said, "it appears in this case Bashir was justified in his actions and had it not been for his quick response at the airlock, the situation may not have had such a satisfactory ending."

Odo nodded his agreement. "I believe we have everything here under control, Captain. I'm sure you would like to check in on Doctor Bashir."

Dax, Rava and Wescott looked up as Sisko entered the infirmary, followed by Kira and O'Brien. "Jabara is still examining him," Dax informed them. "OPS called down a few minutes ago. The Bajoran doctor will be here in less than an hour."

Sisko nodded gravely, thankful now he had made the request. "How is he?"

Dax shook her head. "I can't tell. I know that he lost a lot of blood and he has a few broken ribs. Other than that..." She shrugged.

The small group waited patiently for Jabara to finish her exam. Sisko's eye swept the infirmary. Almost every bed was filled with the injured from the battle. Most of the injuries appeared not be too serious. Beyond the main room, in the individual exam rooms, he could see the more seriously wounded, medical personnel hovering around them.

After what seemed an eternity, the door to one of the rooms slid aside and Jabara exited, her face grim. She spotted the group and hurried over. The Bajorian nurse took a deep breath before speaking. "In addition to a multitude of superficial cuts and bruises, he has three broken ribs, a bruised trachea, a concussion, a fractured eye socket, and two substantial lacerations on his chest. Those wounds will heal readily enough with the proper care."

"What are you not telling us?" Sisko pressed.

Jabara frowned. "I'm worried about the laceration on his left arm. There was some nerve and tendon damage. He'll need surgery to repair the damage. I'll feel much better about it when the doctor from Bajor gets here and can examine him."

"Can I see him?" Rava asked.

Jabara shook her head. "We're still working on him, and he's unconscious. I think it would be better to wait until the doctor sees him. It probably will be a while. I'll let you know as soon as he can have visitors." She turned and went back into the room.

For a long moment, no one said anything. Then, Sisko said, "There's nothing much we can do here. Why don't we wait at Quark's?"

"Infirmary to Captain Sisko."

Sisko answered Jabara's call immediately. "Go ahead."

"Doctor Refne has finished his examination."

"I'm on my way."

The Bajoran doctor was waiting when Sisko entered the infirmary, followed closely by Dax, Kira, Rava, Wescott and O'Brien. Doctor Refne extended his hand in greeting. "Captain Sisko, I presume?" At Sisko's nod he continued. "Your Doctor Bashir is one lucky man. Though the damage to his arm is extensive, I don't believe it is permanent. With the proper surgery and therapy, he should make a full recovery. Had the cut been any deeper..." He left the sentence unfinished. "He's conscious for the moment, but he needs his rest. I will allow one of you in to see him but only for a couple of minutes."

Sisko knew each of Julian's friends would want to see him but he turned to Rava, knowing she needed it most. The young woman smiled her thanks and headed for the room.

Doctor Refne turned back to the captain. "I've managed to do an initial exam of the other patients as well. I've had a great deal of experience dealing with these types of injuries. There should be no problems there." He paused and smiled thinly. "Jabara has filled me in on the circumstances of the surgery Doctor Bashir performed on the Isphesnian official. From what I've seen of the injury, it was nothing short of a miracle that he managed to keep the man alive, much less repair so much of the internal damage. He must be a brilliant doctor."

The doctor walked away before Sisko could respond, but he answered anyway. "I'm beginning to realize just how brilliant."

Jabara smiled at the Empress as she entered the room and stepped away from the bed to give the young people a small measure of privacy. Rava took Julian's hand and squeezed it lightly. His opened his eyes slowly, smiling weakly when he caught sight of the young woman.

"How do you feel?" Rava asked softly.

"Like an elephant stepped on me," he answered truthfully.

Rava smiled. "Well, that about describes how you look. Doctor Refne says you'll soon be good as new."

"That's what he tells me."

"And your diagnosis, Doctor?" Rava teased.

"Punching bag syndrome, brought on by massive stupidity," he said with a smile. "But, right this moment, I'm too damned tired to really care."

Rava noticed the tight lines of pain around his mouth and eyes, the paleness of his handsome face and was drawn back in time twenty years. She sighed deeply.

"Penny for your thoughts," Julian said lightly, echoing Rava's words from a few days ago.

Rava laughed, remembering the conversation. "They haven't made pennies in centuries."

"It's the thought that counts."

"If the shoe fits...no...a rolling stone..."

The two laughed together. "Why don't you just tell me what's on your mind?" Julian suggested.

"Thurl is dead," Rava said gravely. "Cecha and Corses will be tried for their crimes. It's finally over, Julian. We can finally close the door on this and get on with our lives."

Julian reached up with his uninjured hand and wiped away the single tear that slid down Rava's face. "Yes, we can," he said, and was surprised to realize, he meant it.

CHAPTER 15

Julian stared at the small, simple box for several long moments. Finally, he touched the hidden clasp and the top swung open. A flash of panic coursed through him and he reached to snap the lid shut without even glancing at its contents. Through sheer force of will, he stopped himself. He had run long enough. It was time to face this pain.

With a deep bracing breath, he let his gaze drop to the inside of the box, to the snapshot laying innocuously at the top of a small stack of pictures. The smiling face of young, dark-haired girl looked back at him. Slowly, he picked up the picture. He remembered the day this had been taken. Jessie had just won the leading role in a school play. Julian smiled, remembering the girl's excitement. For a long moment he stared at the picture, reliving that day.

His heart ached at the memory, but surprisingly, it was not with the unbearable pain that had haunted him for twenty years. His eyes welled with unshed tears.

The door chime sounded and, after a moment's hesitation, he called out, "Come in." The door slid aside and Dax stepped in. She paused when she caught sight of his tear-filled eyes.

"I thought I would just see how you're doing," she said uncertainly. "But if it's a bad time, I can come back."

Julian smiled to reassure his friend. He felt unexpectedly comforted by the extra attention of his friends in the past week. He had tried for so long to hide his past that he was totally unprepared for the outpouring of concern from everyone. Even Quark had been uncharacteristically generous, sending him a bottle of his best brandy - at no charge! He was still trying to figure that one out.

"No, it's fine, Jadzia. Come on in, please."

The Trill walked over and took a seat beside him on the couch. "How is your arm?"

He flexed his hand before answering. "Still weak, but it's getting stronger every day."

"I talked to Rava this morning," said Dax. "She told me she asked you to go with her to Isphesne when she leaves tomorrow."

Julian looked up at his friend but didn't answer right away. "I think I'm going to go," he finally said. "It will be a couple of more weeks before I can return to work anyhow and Doctor Refne has everything covered..."

Dax stopped him with a hand on his arm. "You don't have to convince me, Julian. I think it's a wonderful idea." She hesitated, then continued. "Are you sure you're ready?"

"To face my ghosts?" Julian smiled. "I'm not sure, but it's time to find out."

Dax glanced at the photograph in his hand. "Is that Jessica?"

Julian nodded. "I haven't been able to look at her picture in years. It doesn't hurt as much as I thought it would."

Dax leaned over and studied the girl's face. "She was beautiful," she said truthfully. "Do I detect a mischievous gleam in her eye?"

Surprisingly, Julian found himself laughing. "Most definitely! She was always getting us into trouble. She would come up with the most hair-brained schemes! I was the level-headed one, but I could never resist her."

He reached into the box and pulled out the stack of pictures. Slowly, he sifted through them. Some were of Jessie alone, but most were of the two of them together. At the bottom of the stack was a photo of the whole family. He stopped and stared at the image. It had been taken just a short time before...He couldn't finish the thought. The unshed tears finally worked their way to the surface, sliding unnoticed down his face.

After a moment, he remembered Dax and looked up to find her silently watching him. He glanced away, embarrassed.

"It's all right, Julian," she said, touching his arm. "It's okay to grieve as long as you don't let it destroy you."

Julian nodded, understanding for the first time how he had let his pain rule his life for years. For the first time in twenty years, bolstered by the comfort of his friends, he felt strong enough to face the memories.

"I was the only one that ever called her Jessie." He laughed through his tears. "My mother hated it. She thought it was an undignified nickname. But I couldn't help it, to me she was always Jessie." He sobered suddenly. "She was afraid of the dark. Not many people knew that. It was our secret." Several minutes passed silently. Then, "He thought her fear was irrational."

"Your father?" Dax guessed.

"He never did understand fear of any kind; he had no tolerance for it. I think he saw it as a weakness. He refused to let her have a nightlight, so I would sneak into Jessie's room at night and stay with her until she fell asleep." He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "I always wanted to take care of her."

Dax felt the need to say something comforting. "I'm sure she knew that, Julian."

"I guess that's why I blamed myself for letting her die. When she needed me most, I wasn't there for her."

"It wasn't your fault," Dax said softly.

Julian smiled tiredly. "It's taken me a long time to realize that." He wiped away the tears and turned to look at Dax. "If it had been me, and not Jessie, she wouldn't have let her grief overshadow her life forever. She wouldn't have withered and died inside like I did rather than face the pain. She would have found a way to deal with it and go on with her life. That's the way she was. I have to find the strength to do that. It's what she would have wanted."

Dax suddenly leaned forward and hugged him fiercely. "It is what she would have wanted, Julian. And I think you are ready to do just that."

A long time later, Dax left Julian's quarters. The healing had begun, she knew. He had finally forgiven himself. Maybe, someday, he would find the strength to forgive his father. She turned and headed down the corridor, almost running into Sisko as he stepped around the corner.

"I thought I would pay Julian a visit. Is he up to it?" he asked, correctly guessing she had just come from the doctor's quarters.

"I think that's a good idea. He needs all of his friends right now."

"How is he, old man?" She heard the fatherly concern in his voice and smiled inwardly.

"He's going to be all right, Benjamin." She realized as she said the words that it was true. Julian Bashir would be all right.

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