#febwhump25

A/N: When she finally locates Julian after days of searching, Jadzia is horrified by a sudden change. Set in early season 2.

She couldn't believe she hadn't realised it straight away.

In her defence, she had been focused on getting herself and Julian out of the Telodinian camp alive. There hadn't been enough time to assess for any secondary injuries when she'd first discovered him; secretly, she'd expected him to be dead. It had been four days since he first went missing, after all.

Jadzia couldn't say anything at first; part of her was too stunned by the young man's condition. The other part of her was heartbroken that he'd been subjected to such torture when they had originally come to this part of the planet on a humanitarian mission. He came to help, and this is what his reward is…

The barren tent housing him had been left open just enough for the overnight storm to blow through, leaving clumps of melting blue snow scattered around his feet. The rims of his uniform were covered in ice, dried blood decorating sporadic parts of the rest of the fabric. His arms were bound so far above his head that despite being tall for a male human, his toes were unable to touch the floor. How his shoulders hadn't been dislocated, Jadzia had no idea.

"Julian?" She whispered in his ear, delicately touching the skin above his lacerated eyebrow. The lack of warmth beneath her fingertips alarmed her, and she gently clasped Julian's face in her hands. "Julian, wake up."

The young man's eyes fluttered open, glazed over with dehydration and pain. His bruised lips moved weakly, but no sound emerged.

Oh thank goodness, he's alive. "It's Jadzia. We're getting out of here, Julian."

Julian's eyelids spasmed as he fought for consciousness, but he managed to give a blink of acknowledgement before his head slumped forward into Jadzia's hands. She gently released him before

Realising instantly that there was no hope of her reaching above him to untie the rope herself, Jadzia immediately pulled out her phaser and carefully aimed it just above Julian's hands. She couldn't stop herself cringing at the phaser's loud whine as it sliced through the restraint, disturbing their eerily silent surroundings. Come on, come on-

She reacted just in time to stop Julian from crashing to the floor, cradling his limp (and scarily thin) form in her arms. I'll have to speak to him about putting on some weight after all of this…he's far too light for his age.

A loud crash from outside the tent, and she swore quietly. "Time to go, Julian." She ducked underneath his bound hands and pulled them forward enough to keep his shoulders on top of hers - she decided she'd just have to pray that he didn't fall backwards and strangle her - before tucking each leg under her arms.

Without looking back, Jadzia charged out of the tent and headed for freedom.

****

She wasn't sure how long she'd been running through the planet's frozen forests before she felt Julian beginning to stir on her back. It was still at least another eight kilometres to where she had stashed the runabout, but given that she hadn't seen any Telodinians following them from the camp, it was worth the risk to have a few minutes of rest.

They took shelter in an overgrown clearing that hadn't experienced as much snowfall overnight as other areas, which was an unexpected blessing as Julian had recovered enough after a few sips of water to begin shivering.

"I'll trade places if you want," Jadzia had laughed, wiping the sweat from her brow. "I could go for a dip in the snow right now."

She removed the lid from the last bottle of water, tipping it delicately into Julian's mouth, who drank so quickly that most of it ended up washing the dirt and blood away from his chin rather than rushing down his throat. He gaze Jadzia a pleading look as she pulled the bottle away, and she had to fight the guilt building in her stomach. "I don't want you throwing it up before we get back to the runabout. There's no supplies in this kit for an IV line."

Deciding that distraction would help with Julian's dehydration, she turned her attention to releasing his bonds. "I apologise for the unceremonious rescue," Jadzia confessed, putting her fingers to work at the knots around Julian's wrists. "I know it wasn't exactly graceful, but I assure you, no one has to know about being the 'damsel in distress'."

The remark elicited a small smile from Julian, watching tiredly as Jadzia finished untying his hands. As the rope fell away to reveal chafed and raw skin around his wrists, his eyes narrowed slightly, but otherwise made no comment. Even as tiny pricks of blood began to appear from beneath his skin, he remained silent.

"Oh, Julian…" Jadzia inspected the damaged flesh, knowing from experience that this sort of damage only occurred when the person had been struggling against them for an extended period. "I'm so sorry, I-I came as fast as I could-"

She was interrupted with Julian placing a hand on hers and giving it a gentle squeeze. It was then that she finally realised something was horribly wrong.

Julian is a talkative man. Half the station complains about it…so why hasn't he said anything yet?

Jadzia inspected his face carefully. She couldn't see any signs of strangulation, and he hadn't been gagged when she found him, but she realised she'd have to ask the question. "Julian?"

The young man looked up from his injuries, his eyes widening as he finally seemed to catch on to Jadzia's concerns. He slowly lifted his hand and pointed to his throat, giving a small shake of his head.

The Trill's heart sunk; she was so hoping to have been proved wrong. "Can you speak at all?"

He hesitated before he shook his head sadly. The despondent look in his eyes told her the rest of his answer: Believe me, I tried.

Before Jadzia could ask any questions, he tilted his head back and mimed something dropping into his mouth.

Despite his attempts at clarifying the situation, all it did for Jadzia was raise more questions. "They made you eat something?"

He shook his head and mimed the action again.

"…They gagged you with something?"

His hand made an unsure gesture; Jadzia guessed he meant it was close enough. She watched as he resumed his pantomime, repeating the first gesture before placing one hand over his mouth while he wriggled the second's fingers in front of his throat. After moving his hands away, he made the action of attempting to speak before slouching in defeat.

I should get Benjamin to teach me more about human body language after this.

"While it's wonderful acting, Julian, I'm sorry but I don't fully understand what's happened to you," Jadzia admitted quietly.

She watched intently as he stretched out a trembling and bloodstained hand, frowning as he attempted to scratch some letters into the dirt in front of them. The soil was stiff and unmoving with the early morning frost, but the doctor persisted despite the pain it was causing to his hands.

When he'd finished, Julian collapsed against the tree behind him, the effort having taken its toll. It took Jadzia a second to interpret the scrawled letters: ORGANIC MATERIAL? VOCAL CORD PARALYSIS?

"Was it a once-only treatment?" Jadzia asked tenderly. "Or did-"

Julian shook his head mutely, holding up three fingers.

The Trill wasn't sure how much further her heart could sink for this poor man. Her voice was gentle but soft as she spoke. "They did that to you three times?"

Julian's eyes were uncharacteristically wet as he nodded. His eyes widened as he leaned forward and grabbed the bottle of water, swallowing so fast that he couldn't stop until Jadzia had to physically rip the ration pack away from him. "Not too fast, Julian. I'm sure you're aware what happens when you rehydrate too quickly."

The doctor's cheeks reddened with embarrassment. He tucked the blanket tighter around himself

"Let's get you home, first. Then we'll worry about everything else," Jadzia rose to her feet, scrambling to close the ration kits. "And don't argue with me about walking, because you're in no state to be doing either."

Jadzia deliberated ignored his mouthed protests as she lifted him onto her back, pulling his arms around her neck. "Can you hold on, Julian?"

A/N: Julian is forced to participate in a ritual by a Bajoran cult, becoming a vessel for a malicious being. Set in mid-season 2.

If I had a strip of latinum for every time my body become somebody's personal vehicle, I'd have two strips.

Which isn't a lot, but it's ridiculous that it's happened twice to the same man.

When Vantika had taken control of him, he'd lied to his colleagues about the experience. That he'd had no memory of what had occurred or how long he'd been possessed for. At the time, it'd seemed like a good idea; it did save him having to write a lengthy statement for Sisko, after all. He didn't feel like talking about the experience, instead hoping to repress the memory and move on, despite the fact he'd watched his own hands carelessly murder another person.

This experience was no different. He could see everything around him; he felt his muscles and vocal cords working without conscious effort; even his breathing was no longer his to control. The only difference this time were the circumstances of the actual possession. Vantika had taken control during his sleep; this being was violently thrust into his cerebrum after observing a Bajoran ritual.

It had seemed innocent enough. A gravesite of an important Bajoran religious figure had been discovered, and (to his surprise) Commander Sisko had invited members of his senior staff to attend the blessing ceremony with him.

What no one had realised, however, was that the whole affair was an elaborate scam. Despite the apparent legitimacy of the deceased's identity - Kira had never heard of a Kai called Hender, but admitted that historical knowledge wasn't that advantageous during the Occupation - the doors of the temple were locked as soon as the ceremony began. Weapons were drawn on Julian and his colleagues, and he found himself being dragged away by a group of hooded figures. He was shoved onto a stone altar and strapped down with heavy ropes before an ominous Bajoran chant began to fill the air, sending chills down his spine.

He wasn't sure what was going on in the exact moment the entity took control, but his last voluntary act was to scream; not so much out of pain, but more so from terror.

He felt the entity's rage within moments of it asserting dominance. Random thoughts of violence, impatience and irritation were fighting alongside his own terrified ones in his cerebral cortex. What if the others don't find me? What if this time it's permanent?! What if they can't stop me and they have to-

Silence.

Julian was stunned. The entity was personally addressing him. Vantika had never done that. Excuse me, I'm the one in charge of this flesh…machine.

Not anymore you're not. I've been waiting too long for this.

"Eminence?" The leader of the hooded figures spoke. Julian thought he could detect a touch of hesitancy in his voice.

"It…is…I," The entity croaked. It initially struggled to work his human vocal cords, his own tongue feeling heavy in his mouth.

"We wish to offer our apologies for the delay in your return, Eminence," The figure pushed back his hood to reveal a young Bajoran man around Julian's age. He moved towards Julian and began to cut away the ropes binding his body. What set off alarm bells for him, however, was the sparkling red earring dangling from his right ear. "I-It took us time to ensure the events of the prophecy were occurring as foretold and-"

"This…body," The entity pushed his body off the table, breaking through what ropes had yet to be cut. His eyes cast downward as the entity used them to inspect his hands. "It…is…foreign."

"The ritual called for a young host from an enemy nation in order to ensure your resurrection," The leader explained nervously. "W-We could not use one of our own, a-and the Occupation ended-"

"Excuses," The entity hissed. It piloted his body off of the altar and walked slowly towards the leader, his legs wobbling as though they had not been used in months. "This…being…I am…weak."

"It will take some time before you feel comfortable in this new body, Eminence," The leader made a half-decent effort to sound reassuring, though Julian could easily tell he was frightened. "It has been many years since the day of your sentence-"

The entity whipped his head up, widening his eyes despite Julian's furious attempts to stop him. "How…long?"

A tense silence filled the chamber before the leader answered. "Five hundred years, four months and twelve days."

Julian barely had time to process this response before the entity emitted a furious roar, his vocal cords straining under the pressure. He watched as his hand was curled into an unnaturally tight fist and slammed into the leader's nose, the pain signals caused by the gesture seemingly going unnoticed. "That is…too long!"

Two other figures began moving towards him before the leader raised a hand to halt them. He wiped the fresh blood that had begun to spurt from his nose before facing the entity. "Eminence, we have faced trials in trying to restore you to a physical form. M-Many of us were persecuted after your sentences…W-We've been forced to retreat underground-"

The leader's words quickly vanished as the entity wrapped the same hand around his neck. Julian's panic only grew as he felt his grip growing tighter on the man's windpipe, his lips quickly beginning to show signs of cyanosis. Stop stop stop stop! Stop it! Let him go!

The entity ignored him and squeezed even harder. He felt the man's trachea tremble and collapse under his fingertips. Stop it! He's helped you, now let him go!

No.

Julian saw the life leave the man's eyes as his neck snapped, the nauseating sound echoing off the ancient stone walls. The entity's grip loosened at last, and he watched in horror as the leader collapsed in a heap at his own feet.

He desperately wished he could vomit. Even my chemoreceptors won't obey me! Unbelievable.

Silence. Your thoughts are irritating.

Julian scoffed. My thoughts are irritating?! I'm the one who has an unwelcome guest in their head!

The entity turned to face the remaining hooded figures, most of which had already retreated from their leader's corpse. He could feel the intensity of the entity's emotions, swirling around his head as it tried to process its next move. "Who is our…current enemy?"

Dammit. It's gotten better at speaking.

When the room remained silent, the entity slammed his fist into the altar, ignoring Julian's mental cry of anguish as the bones in his hand splintered. "WHO IS OUR ENEMY?!"

"The Federation, Eminence!" One of the figures declared, running forward and removing his hood. "I have just received word that they are attempting to break in and prevent the ritual from continuing!"

"Then they must…be…eliminated," The entity

Julian decided he was in desperate need of context. Who are you? What the hell is going on?

It is none of your concern.

Damn right it isn't! This is my body, and I demand to know who the hell is controlling it!

The entity was silent for a moment. I am the Emissary.

Julian couldn't help but laugh. Nice try. My commanding officer has been given that designation-

I am the Emissary. The entity bellowed. I am the chosen subject of the Pah-Wraiths. I am the one who will destroy the Celestial Temple and restore Bajor.

He decided this answer only provided more questions. But you're not Bajoran?

I am of Bajor.

But you're not a Bajoran, Julian retorted. You can't even get my body to function efficiently, which tells me you have either never possessed a physical form, or it's been a damn long time since you did. Both of which are also impossible, however the concept of consciousness-

I am of Bajor, and I will restore it.

Julian was about to ask it to clarify when the doors to the chamber were blown open, the sound resonating against their stone surroundings. Debris and dust were scattered, only parting as the group of senior Starfleet officers and Bajoran militia forced their way into the room, phasers at the ready. Oh, thank goodness-

"Doctor!" Sisko emerged from the newly-created entrance, phaser in hand. "Are you alright?"

Julian felt the entity twist his face into a sinister smile. "You…are…the…false one."

The warmth in Sisko's face evaporated instantly. He pointed his phaser at Julian's chest. "Identify yourself!"

"I…am…the…Emissary," The entity announced, raising his hands in triumph. "I…have…returned -"

"You're a false prophet," Kira snapped. "Leave this man alone - he's not even Bajoran! Why are you using him?"

Julian watched in simultaneous horror and awe as his body began to levitate from the ground. The entity tilted his vision away from his friends (who had refused to back away from the unnatural sight), instead glancing at the roof of the chamber. He could vaguely sense what it was intending to do, but he had no way of stopping it.

Please, please, please…just shoot me!

You have to kill me to stop it, there's no other way!

"It's a Pah-Wraith!" One of the militia officers shouted, firing his phaser at Julian. The beam slammed into his chest but the entity was unbothered. Julian's nerves still processed it, however, and he screamed silently as his body came alight with fire.

"I…have…returned!" The entity roared proudly.

"Oh yeah?" He heard Kira shout. "We'll see about that. Open fire!"

One by one he felt the phaser beams pummel into his body, each time sending a ripple of excruciating pain throughout his body. By the fifth strike, he could feel the entity's grip on him beginning to wane, and he decided now was a good time to wrestle back control. He pushed against the mental barriers in his mind, attempting to drive the entity away. You don't belong in here!

A fifth phaser blast hit him, and the barrier gave way.

The entity growled in frustration, trying to claw its way back into position. I will not be-

Oh shut up already.

A sixth phaser blast collided with his chest.

His body arched backwards as the entity was finally ejected, using his voice for a final scream before dissipating into the air around him.

The seventh blast came from nowhere.

He heard his own scream erupt from his throat before he quickly slammed into the ground, blissful unconsciousness finally claiming him.

****

The relief he experienced upon awakening in the infirmary was indescribable, but so was the pain.

The pain in his broken hand was roughly the same. He vaguely remembered one of his nurses holding him down as a sedative was pumped into him, but the next time he was fully conscious he found the pain had been reduced to a faint ache. Bone and muscle regenerators lay next to his biobed, and he quickly deduced it had taken multiple sessions to repair the damage.

"You, Doctor Bashir, are certainly a lucky man," Nurse Jabara had joked. "I don't think I've ever met a doctor who's ended up as a patient in his own practice as often as you."

He knew she was trying to make him feel better, but he didn't feel much like laughing. "Will I regain full function?"

"With another two or three sessions and some physiotherapy, yes."

The senior officers paid him a visit a few hours after that conversation. Sisko expressed more apologies than he thought he'd ever heard come from his superior officer, while Kira and Dax both had visible guilt in their eyes.

He also realised the situation was serious if Kira was drinking a raktajino at 0400 hours and off-duty.

The same sorts of questions after Vantika had been destroyed came to the conversation. What had happened after he was dragged away, what he remembered, what he could and couldn't control; he decided this time they needed to know the truth, and gave the most comprehensive descriptions he could. The blood drained from their faces as he spoke.

"For some reason, it had trouble forming certain words more than others, even after a decent amount of time in my body," Julian commented, leaning back in his seat. "I'm not sure if it's something to do with the structure of human vocal cords, or whether it was trying to speak Bajoran through my universal translator, but it struggled to communicate. Perhaps the current Bajoran dialect was unfamiliar to it."

"It's probably a good thing we'll never know," Dax answered. "It took seven phaser hits before it was incapacitated."

"Believe me, I know. I felt all of them." Julian said dryly, his expression softening upon seeing the flash of guilt in their faces. "I-I know, I know you weren't sure if it was me or not. I'm not holding any grudges. If anything, I appreciated being knocked out. It took the pain away."

Kira was staring into the bottom of her empty raktajino mug, a troubled expression across her face. "I've heard rumours for years that this cult was still active, but to actually see them…To see what lengths they were willing to go to…"

"I agree. It is disturbing," Sisko turned towards the doctor. "Is there anything else you can tell us about this entity; its name, its intentions?"

Julian shook his head despondently. "I could barely get any information out of it, sir. It only spoke to me when I seemed to genuinely annoy it."

"You couldn't peer into its mind or anything?" Dax asked.

"I'm afraid not," Julian paused for a moment, trying to think of the best analogy. "It was like constantly knocking on a door, and only getting to see or hear anything through the view hole. If I'm entirely honest, I'm not even sure it was a Bajoran. It seemed to act more like a spirit than anything."

"I think it would be a good idea for you to meet with some of the vedeks down on Bajor," Kira pushed her mug aside and gave him a serious look. "They'll have more knowledge about what that 'thing' was than any of us on the station, and they should be able to find out more about the ritual they tried to put you through."

Julian gave her a nod before an involuntary yawn escaped him. He flushed with embarrassment. "I'm so sorry, I-"

"No idea to apologise, doctor," Sisko interrupted gently. "We'll let you get some rest."

His colleagues departed with empathetic smiles and well wishes, leaving Julian alone with his thoughts.

A/N: Not everyone is satisfied with Julian being allowed to keep his registration, despite being genetically engineered. Set after 'Doctor Bashir, I Presume'.

Julian dreaded leaving the infirmary these days. Although his medical staff had given him their full support, he couldn't shake the feeling that they didn't truly mean it. They assisted him when needed and never asked any unnecessary questions, but stepping outside of his safe haven meant having to face the rest of the station without any defence.

Everywhere he went, he could feel their eyes on him.

Judging him. Inspecting him. Scrutinising him.

The man who had lied to everybody, who had done more than enough to earn a prison sentence, and yet was allowed to keep his commission.

So when the hand clamped itself over his mouth after he left the infirmary for the night, he realised he should've anticipated this. He offered no resistance as a thick piece of adhesive was forced over his mouth and his hands were tightly restrained behind him. A hand appeared under each arm and he was pulled along through the barren corridors, the majority of the station having fallen asleep hours ago.

He could feel the end of a phaser poking in the back of his spine, but he didn't need the motivation to comply. Part of him was slightly relieved.

Maybe they can finish the job so I don't have to.

He barely had time to register what section of the habitat ring they were in before they disappeared inside an empty set of quarters, the doors being manually locked behind him. One of his captors guided him to the living area before pushing him roughly into the couch, snatching his collar to stop him from completely falling over.

Two human males stood before him, the majority of their features masked with dark-coloured scarves. The taller of the two stepped forward, clasping his hands proudly. Even from this distance, Julian could make out a decent-sized scar running through his left eyebrow, the corresponding eye cloudy and unseeing.

"Doctor Bashir," His eyes crinkled, his smile hidden beneath the fabric. "What a pleasure to finally meet you."

"We've heard so much about you," The second man added. "Granted, none of it was good."

"But any publicity is good publicity, right?"

Julian gave no response. He sagged into the couch and blinked tiredly. Finish your monologue and get on with it.

Ignoring Julian's flat demeanour, Scarface looked at his partner. "Definitely the quietest one we've met."

"Most of the time they're screaming," Shortie commented. "We hate the screaming. Makes the job more unpleasant."

"Hence the gag."

"Can't have our concentration disturbed while finishing our task."

"Otherwise we'd never get anything done."

Are you guys assassins? Bounty hunters? I'm so confused…

"But you're a unique case for us, doctor," Scarface folded his arms across his chest. "It's not every day that we do a job out of the goodness of our hearts."

"Goodness might be stretching it," Shortie snorted.

"True, true. Let me rephrase it: we don't do jobs on our own accord very often."

"I'm a bit out of practice too, so this is a bonus."

"We love bonuses."

"You realise that you are just the beginning? Soon people'll start asking questions," Scarface slowly walked towards Julian, leaning over him intimidatingly. "They'll revisit the laws and rules that we've had in place for over two hundred years. People will say we should give it a second chance."

"'We're smarter now. Our technology has advanced. A second Khan won't be possible,'" Shortie mimicked sarcastically. "They'll see you as an excuse to start practising again. To start messing with nature despite there being plenty of reasons why it was outlawed in the first place."

"And we can't let that happen. Not again."

Scarface reached behind the couch, producing a standard Starfleet medical kit. His pleasant demeanour was dampened when he saw Julian's emotionless face. "My God, he really is a placid one after all. Where's the muffled screaming and desperate struggles?"

"It's almost as if he's waiting for us to kill him."

"How disappointing. I was hoping for a more dramatic performance. Anyway, it doesn't matter," Scarface opened the kit, nonchalantly looking through its contents, "because we're still going to kill you."

"In more ways than one." Shortie spoke dramatically, cocking his eyebrows.

"Now before you start panicking, we're not just gonna slit your throat and leave. That's not our style," Scarface rambled casually.

"It's too messy as well, believe us."

"My partner and I here believe in poetic justice. Khan escaped justice through death, you escaped through Starfleet; therefore death is not a fitting punishment for you. Can't have two genetic freaks sharing the same fate, especially considering you didn't kill anyone," Scarface retrieved what resembled a laser scalpel from the kit, fiddling with the settings. "But despite having clearly broken the laws around genetic engineering, Starfleet decides to let you keep everything. Your rank, your medical license, your position on this station, your freedom. All of it, and without so much as a slap on the wrist."

"And we don't agree with their decision," Shortie took a seat next to Julian, leaning in close enough to whisper in his ear. "No one should have that kind of immunity."

For the first time since he'd been grabbed, Julian finally felt a sense of panic. He tried desperately to regain control over his increased work of breathing, but knew it was failing miserably. There's no need for any torture, gentlemen! I've suffered enough as it is.

"You'll serve as a perfect example to Starfleet of how the people feel about this," Scarface's proud voice was sending chills down Julian's spine. "The doctor with spliced and manipulated genetics gets to experience it all over again. His flesh torn and his body twisted beyond recognition, so that no one knows what nature originally intended it to look like."

"And if he dies, that's a bonus as well," Shortie remarked, patting Julian on the shoulder, "for he will have truly lost everything."

Now accepting of the fact that he was fully panicking, Julian tried to push himself upright, only for his torso to be forced back into the couch with an elbow to the stomach. Shortie took the opportunity to climb on top of him, his legs and surprisingly-heavy weight effectively pinning Julian to the furniture.

"Hold his head back." Scarface instructed.

A squeak of protest escaped Julian as Shortie yanked on his hair, his throat pointing almost directly into the air. Scarface filled his entire field of view, which rapidly closed as his captor drew closer.

The familiar buzz of the laser scalpel made him nauseous.

His eyes were watering.

Please…Make it quick…

****

He'd lost feeling in his limbs hours ago. Blood flow was probably compromised too, but his head was too fuzzy to calculate exactly.

Something sharp was sticking into his chest. He realised they'd left his combadge attached.

Mutilated, bloodied and bruised, Julian lay his head down and allowed the fatigue to win. Might as well get some sleep before people come looking for me.

Something wet and warm trickled down his face. Part of wondered if his tear ducts were still working.

A/N: Keiko can only watch as her husband learns to re-trust the familiar environment of the station. A short piece set during ‘Hard Time’. 

Julian had said it would take time, but part of her had hoped it wouldn’t. 

Miles was a strong man, after all, but even Keiko underestimated just how much he’d been through. The fact that he had broken down into a sobbing fit upon seeing her at the Defiant’s docking port was proof enough that something was seriously wrong.

“But he never actually went to prison!” She snapped at Julian, pacing around the infirmary in a fit of blameless rage. “D-Did they change his personality? I-Is he an imposter?!”

“He is still the same Miles O’Brien that left this station a week ago,” Julian reiterated calmly. “But he has been through a traumatic experience that was forced upon him by implanting false memories-”

“Then why can’t you just remove those memories?!” Keiko begged tearfully.

For a split second, she thought Julian was going to crumble like she had. Instead, he took a long, shuddering breath and blinked furiously. “I can’t, Keiko. I wish I could, but I can’t. To do that would remove all of his memories; it would erase the man you love. He has to learn to live with them now.”

“How am I supposed to live with this though?!” Keiko’d blurted out. She couldn’t stop the flurry of sobs that began escaping her. “H-He yelled at Molly last night, for God’s sake! And you’re telling me there is NOTHING you can do about it?!”

There was nothing any of them could do.

Nothing, except to wait.

She’d returned to her quarters after spending an hour crying on Julian’s shoulder, unsure of what she’d find upon her return. Every time she saw him now, she had no idea what she’d see.

Despite it being only 1900 hours, she wasn’t surprised to see Miles curled up next to their bed, still dressed in his sweaty uniform from the day’s work. 

And yet yesterday, he’d remembered to change into his pyjamas first.

Some days his eyes seemed to carry the burden of the world. Other days he seemed almost normal again.

The back and forth between the two was jarring at the best of times.

Watching his form toss and turn on the floor next to their bed had sometimes been enough to leave her lying in a puddle of silent tears. She longed for the day when he would actually stay in between the sheets, rather than crawling onto the floor during the night. 

For when he could look at her without a degree of suspicion in the back of his mind. 

For when he wasn’t expressing seriously alarming signs of suicidal intent.

A/N: Miles, Julian and a malfunctioning transporter. What could go wrong? Set in late season 5.

"How the hell is this my fault?!"

"You're the one who was fiddling with the transporter while we were standing on it!"

"Yeah, 'cause I told you to get off it-"

"Gentlemen," Sisko raised his hands, using one to rub at the tension headache already forming. This is going to be a long day. "Gentlemen, can one of you explain what's going on?"

He'd barely gotten the words out before the Chief and Doctor Bashir recommenced their bickering, and he slammed his palm into the console in front of him. "Gentlemen, I said one of you! Now will someone tell me what the hell happened!"

Bashir ran a frustrated hand through his hair, pointing at the Chief. "He goes and stands on the transporter pad when I've very clearly said I'm fixing it-"

"Doctor?" Sisko interrupted. "You don't fix transporter pads-"

"I'm not Julian! I'm the Chief!"

"And I'm not Miles! I'm Julian!"

Sisko found himself looking back and forth between both men, his brain only becoming more confused by the second. The one time Dax actually takes some leave, and this is what happens.

"…Are you telling me you've swapped bodies?"

"YES!" Both men chorused together.

I'm gonna need another raktajino after all. "I think it'd be best if we continued this discussion in sickbay."

****

"I'm afraid it's true, Captain," Nurse Jabara's voice was glum. She pressed a few buttons before the computer displayed a pair of brains, the details of which made no sense to Sisko. "This is the scan taken from Doctor Bashir's body," She pointed to the left brain before drawing attention to the one on the right, "and this is a scan of Bashir's brain we took after his return from the Gamma Quadrant. Notice how the neural signatures are distinctly different?"

"Meaning this isn't Doctor Bashir?"

"Correct. This neural pattern actually belongs to Chief O'Brien. They're definitely who they say they are."

Sisko's mind was still struggling to comprehend this information. "…How the hell can the transporter do something like this?"

"Your guess is just as good as mine, Captain. We could always ask them-"

"No," Sisko answered hurriedly. "No, I, um…I think we can deal with explanations at another time. Right now, I want to know how to reverse it."

"Once again," Jabara gave him a sly smile, "you'll need to talk to them."

****

"How long have you had this arthritis in your elbow, Chief?" Julian examined the joint in question, testing its flexion and extension.

"Probably longer than you've been alive," Miles half-joked. It was incredibly unnerving looking at himself and hearing his voice, even though it was obvious it was Julian. "It doesn't bother me that much."

"But why didn't you say anything about it? I could've done some neural-"

"Julian," Miles wanted to look anywhere but his own face. "…Sometimes I don't like doctors knowing everything about me."

"What, including this red spot below your nipple?"

Miles bit his tongue, glad that if they ended up back in their own bodies, Julian could experience the pain for himself. "Yes, including that."

"Miles, it could be pre-cancerous-"

"How are we doing, gentlemen?" Sisko interrupted the argument, his arms folded behind him. "I hope you're both feeling up to assisting us with returning you to-"

"YES!" Both men shouted at the same time, before fumbling over each other's sentences.

"Oh my God, please-"

"Miles, we haven't finished-"

"I'm done talking about my nipples, Julian!"

"I'm just trying to help you-"

"So stop talkin' about it!"

"Well, it's not my fault I found out about it-"

"But you shouldn't have gone pokin' around-"

"What do you mean?! I felt it as soon as I woke up!"

A/N: Meeting Joran was the one part of the zhian'tara that terrified Jadzia. Sisko was frightened too, but no one else needed to know that. Set during 'Facets'.

He hadn't expected the transferral to be so…anticlimactic.

He was expecting a big cloud of consciousness to come flying through the air, and his body would react as his thoughts and willpower fought for dominance.

Joran's consciousness appeared gradually in his mind, manifesting in the same image Benjamin had seen in his file on the Trill homeworld. He gave the incoming man a nod, his own consciousness being gently pushed aside as he graciously allowed the visitor to enter. Joran.

Benjamin.

"Benjamin?" Jadzia asked hesitantly.

Better let her know you're here. Sisko voluntarily took a step back. And don't try anything stupid, mister.

"Hello, Jadzia," Joran's voice was higher than expected, even through he was using Benjamin's vocal cords. He made his voice sound melodic, and Benjamin realised this was probably some sort of sick irony.

"If you need me, I'll be right outside." Odo said quietly.

"As will I." The Guardian chimed in, both men taking a swift exit.

As much as Benjamin had initially protested their decision to leave the two of them alone, he'd allowed Jadzia to have final say on the matter. It was her zhian'tara, after all. He was merely a vessel.

He realised Joran was staring intently at Jadzia, moving his eyes up and down her body repeatedly. He probed the musician's thoughts and came away with a sense of disgust. What a creep.

I can still hear you, Benjamin.

Then take note of my thoughts, Joran. Sisko was already feeling uncomfortable. I expect Jadzia won't let this conversation go very far if you keep this up-

"It's good to see you again, Jadzia. Tell me," Joran asked in a sickly sweet tone, "Have you been practising your music?"

Jadzia's face was unreadable, bordering on stony. "Yes. When I have the time."

You interrupted me! Sisko allowed his shout to reverberate around his mind, despite the discomfort it brought.

Joran ignored his protest, twisting his mouth into a smile that made him nauseous. "Good. Do you think of me when you play?"

Benjamin could tell Jadzia was nervous. She kept her hands firmly tucked behind her, her eyes darting between his own and the floor of the cell. "…Sometimes."

"I'm glad. You're a very pretty girl, Jadzia. Very pretty. But unfortunately that's all you are." Joran's delight was evident, his true desires practically dripping from his tongue.

Stop it right now. Benjamin stepped forward, intending to retake control if things got out of hand, only to be halted by Joran's own defences. He struggled against the mental barrier the Trill spontaneously created, his panic rapidly building as it refused to budge. The Guardian said I should be able to take control! What's going on?!Jadzia!

"You're nothing compared to Lela, Torias or myself. A pretender," Joran taunted, relishing in the younger Trill's visible distress. "You must realise that by now."

Stop it, Joran!

"You don't know anything about me." Jadzia's voice took on a sharp edge, her gaze narrowing.

Yes, Jadzia! Don't let him intimidate you!

"Only what I can see. A little girl not worthy of the noble creature nestled inside her. You're overwhelmed by it. You're in over your head. And they said it was a mistake choosing me for joining," Joran let out a delicate laugh before resuming his serious demeanour. "But there is one hope for you, Jadzia, and that's me. My strength is within you. You don't have to be afraid of it."

"I'm not."

"Then use it let me show you how to use it. Lower the forcefield, Jadzia. Lower it, and you will never be afraid of anything ever again."

No! No, Jadzia!

"No."

Benjamin threw himself against the barrier, slamming his fists in frustration. Dammit, Joran, let me in! This has gone too far!

I disagree. I'm quite enjoying this.

He realised a second too late what Joran had in mind, unable to stop as his forehead was slammed repeatedly into the forcefield surrounding the cell. Electricity rippled through his body with each blow, and although Joran was unaffected, Benjamin continued to scream silently. JORAN!

"Joran! Stop it, you're hurting him!" Dax's voice climbed in pitch. "Benjamin, take control! Now!"

I'm trying, Old Man! I'm trying!

He barely registered Jadzia deactivating the force field, his body spasming uncontrollably.

You know what? Joran waved his hand and the barrier slid aside, allowing a small gap for Benjamin. I'm feeling generous.

He prepared himself to squeeze through, only for the barrier to close as he was halfway through, pinning his hips firmly in place. Pounding his arms against the wall, he desperately tried to throw himself forward. Joran, no!

"Benjamin?"

Joran began imitating hyperventilation, placing a hand against Benjamin's chest as he attempted to put on a panicked façade. "I think that's enough of Joran for now."

"Are you all right?" Jadzia asked worriedly, placing a hand on his shoulder. Joran smiled wickedly. "Surprise."

He growled as he wrapped Benjamin's hands around Jadzia's throat, forcing her back against the wall of the cell as he pushed on her trachea. Benjamin was glad that Joran had greatly underestimated Jadzia's true strength, and cheered silently as his body was thrown backward. Fight him, Jadzia!

The flurry of punches to the face was the distraction that Benjamin needed. He managed to finally push himself out of his trapped position and threw himself at Joran, tackling the Trill's consciousness. Get the hell out of my mind.

He grabbed Joran's shoulders with the tightest grip he could muster, pushing the Trill to the farthest point of his mind. He felt his nerves and muscles come to life once more as they began to obey him, and he threw his arms up in surrender. "It's all right, old man! It's me."

It took an agonisingly long moment before Jadzia believed him, immediately kneeling by his side. "Are you alright?"

Benjamin nodded, panting as he rubbed at his face. "Thanks, old man."

Jadzia did a double take. "For what?"

A/N: What if a side effect of the Lethean's attack was rapid aging? An alternate version of 'Distant Voices'.

The sound of clinking glass greeted Julian as he stepped into an infirmary shrouded in darkness. For a split second he wondered if the Cardassian vole infestation had returned, only for his genetically-enhanced retinas to pick up a humanoid shape rummaging through his medication cabinets.

Maybe it's time I finally got Odo to install alarms on those things. "Lights."

Momentarily blinded, Julian blinked furiously until his vision finally recognised the intruder. It was the Lethean that Qu ark had introduced earlier, and he was currently clutching onto a sachet of biomemetic gel, a sinister look brewing on his face.

"What do you think you're doing?! I already told you, it's not for sale!" Julian snapped. He tapped his com badge in irritation. "Bashir to-"

A sudden burst of electricity slammed into his body, cutting him off as he began seizing uncontrollably. He could barely make out the Lethean through his hazy vision, who took the opportunity to make a break for the promenade with his stolen goods.

His body slammed into the floor of the infirmary, panting heavily as his muscles continued twitching involuntarily.

Well done, Julian. Maybe that wasn't such a bright idea after all.

A new sensation in his fingers caught his attention. Trying to ignore the painful spasms running down his arms, he raised one hand to inspect it further, only to find that his fingernails were growing right before his eyes. "What the hell?!"

He extended his arm to tap his combadge again, only for a sudden cry to tear away from his throat. Collapsing onto his side, he let out another scream as he felt his collarbone shatter under the impact, the splinters of bone seemingly disintegrating within seconds . Forcing his eyes open, he watched in horror as the skin on his hands began to wither away. Sunspots formed, wrinkles appeared and his fingers curled up with each passing second, his joints and tendons howling as they were quickly overwhelmed by rapidly-growing arthritis.

Before he had a chance to fully process what was happening to him, Julian found his body seizing once more. He rolled onto his back as he was overwhelmed by all-consuming pain, spreading like fire across each and every nerve. One by one the teeth in his mouth began to crumble, the remains mixing with his saliva as they were ejected from their roots.

He heard his scream becoming hoarse as his vocal cords decayed and withered, the sharpness in his throat increasing as though each individual cord was snapping.

He vaguely registered the infirmary doors opening before Jabara's face filled his deteriorating field of view, the cataracts growing in his eyes rapidly replacing parts of his vision with grey spots.

"Doctor!" Jabara's voice was firm, but with a slight edge of worry. "Doctor, what happened?!"

The skin around his mouth had become leathery and stretched, with thickened blood trying to drip from the new tears around his lips. Trying to force his lips and jaw muscles to cooperate to form a word, let alone a whole sentence, seemed impossible in that moment.

I have to try…It might be my only chance of surviving this…

"The…Lethean…" Julian's face morphed into an expression of horror as he heard the hoarse whisper that was his voice. Each breath was causing him pain, his lungs and alveoli practically screaming with each inhalation.

A loud gurgle escaped his throat. He tried to take a breath, only for his chest to seize up as he realised his lungs had begun to fill with fluid. The roar of blood fighting to circulate around his body was quickly dominating other sounds trying to enter his ears, and he realised that his hearing must be dying off.

The last of his vision faded into darkness, and he wondered if his eyeballs were melting. That would explain the stabbing sensation in his head.

Or maybe my brain is disintegrating…

What an undignified way to go…

****

"So then, how exactly did they manage to reverse this 'transformation' of yours?" Garak asked.

Julian finished his mouthful of Tarkelian tea and gave a quiet sigh. "It took a considerable amount of time. There was nothing in the literature about this sort of effect occurring with previous Lethean attacks, and they couldn't undo the damage that had occurred within my DNA. The only other option was to use a previous sample from the transporters and rematerialised me using that pattern to eliminate the damaged DNA sequences."

Garak's eyes were wide. He cocked an eyebrow with concern. "That sounds incredibly risky. What if it wasn't successful?"

"Then I wouldn't be sitting here and enjoying my tea. Lethean attacks are almost always fatal, and never usually cause physical side effects," Julian answered bluntly. "To be fair, Miles told me this morning that they had to use that technique once on the Enterprise, so I'd be interested in studying it further."

"And so you should! You and your staff may have discovered a new anti-aging treatment, doctor. That is certainly an impressive accomplishment."

Julian shook his head. "I can't take the credit, Garak. They barely got me into a stasis unit before I went past the point of no return. One minute I'm on the floor watching my teeth fall out, and the next I wake up as my normal self."

The severity of the situation finally dawned on Garak. He set down his rokassa juice and folded his hands together. "So you're telling me," He said quietly, "that if not for your staff's quick intervention, you would've continued aging?"

"That's correct." Julian took a bite of his bread roll, allowing Garak some time to gather his thoughts.

"That sounds like a rather uncomfortable experience, doctor."

"Uncomfortable barely describes it, Garak," Julian couldn't help but laugh. "But I tell you what…I'm now very glad that I am only thirty."

A/N: For Julian, it was the most humiliating mission of his life. For Miles, it was the funniest. Set between season 1 and 2. 

Next time I’m asked to assist with establishing a medical clinic on an unfamiliar planet, I’m going to ask for a security detail to accompany me.

Or at least a phaser.

It was hard to find a comfortable position after being bound to a chair for five and a half hours, but despite the futility of the situation, Julian was still trying. His arms and legs had gone numb two hours and fifty-four minutes ago - not that he was counting - and he kept twisting in the vain hopes of improving the blood flow. The last thing he wanted to acquire from this was a deep vein thrombosis.

The whole scenario was going to look ridiculous when he presented his report to Sisko. He’d bid both of his nurses goodnight once their shifts finished, and had intended to follow suit once he’d completed his reports for the day. 

That is, the patient reports, the inventory reports and the status report for Starfleet.

It was a lot of work that he could have delegated, but he’d decided it would be nice to get away from the runabout for a while. His colleagues never invited him to dinner anyway; no one would notice if he was a few hours late.

He’d been so engrossed in reading and re-reading his own writing, agonising over the best choice of words and descriptions, that he was caught completely off-guard when his assailant decided to clobber him across the back of the head. He knew something had happened between that and awakening in his current position, but his brain refused to provide anything other than a fuzzy memory. 

All he’d been able to reliably ascertain was that he’d been assaulted, and the entire contents of the medication and equipment cabinets had been ransacked. Not even the paracetamol had been left untouched. He’d been tied hand and foot to the same chair he was sitting on prior, wheeled into the centre of the infirmary as a final gesture for whoever came across him. Having been sat on the same under-filled cushions for hours meant that his spine was now thoroughly protesting, and he was eager to move.

This is ridiculous. I’m genetically enhanced, for God’s sake, and I can’t get myself off of this damn chair!

Julian pulled again on the restraints, grunting as he strained to pull them away from the chair. Initially he had believed they were bandages, but those thoughts were dashed once his skin had started bleeding. Whoever it was, they obviously came prepared and are insanely talented with knots.

The overwhelming taste and fluffy texture of cotton filled his mouth, and it did an effective job of absorbing both sound and moisture. He’d shouted and screamed until his throat was parched, occasionally launching into a coughing fit when his gag reflex was inadvertently activated. 

Part of him wondered why he’d bothered anyway; he was the only one left in the clinic, after all. No one was going to find him until the next morning.

It was going to be a long night. His bladder was already screaming at him, and his stomach had been rumbling consistently even before he was attacked.

He desperately didn’t want to acknowledge it, but he was frightened. He’d never been tied up before, and although he’d never considered himself claustrophobic in the slightest, there was something he found about being pinned in one position that kept sending his sympathetic nervous system into overdrive.

Julian wasn’t sure he even wanted to be rescued at this point. They will never let me hear the end of this. ‘Hey, look at Julian! They finally found a way to shut him up! Shame we can’t do that too!’

Surely I can dislocate my wrist or something, and these bindings will slip right off-

Voices! Despite knowing it wouldn’t help him in the slightest, Julian couldn’t stop himself from leaning towards the doorway. He remembered at the last second not to overdo it, as he still wanted to retain some sort of dignity and not be scooped up off the floor.

“…ere’s one life sign up ahead. Strong…and human. It’s got to be him.”

Jadzia! Oh, thank goodness! Someone actually cares…

Renewed with a fresh burst of energy, he struggled anew against his bonds. “Mmhmm!”

He paused, disappointed when all he could hear was footsteps. Guess I have to try again. “Mmmph!”

“Did you hear something?” Dax’s voice had grown louder. 

So she’s not alone. “Hmmhmm!”

“Don’t think so. I’m reading an unusual power surge in this area, though. Let me scan it properly before we go any further.”

Julian’s stomach dropped, the newfound relief quickly evaporating. Oh my God, not the Chief. Anyone but the Chief…

Despite the burning dryness in his throat, he decided he needed to sacrifice what was left of his pride. “Mmhmm!”

“There. I definitely heard that!” Dax sounded like she’d begun jogging mid-sentence, only for her to appear in the infirmary’s doorway a few seconds later. Her expression morphed from relief to horror and sympathy within milliseconds. “Julian!”

“Careful, Dax! That forcefield is- oh my God!” Miles came into view, interrupted mid-sentence as his gaze caught Julian’s. Initially he was just as surprised as Jadzia, but to the doctor’s disappointment (but not his surprise), Miles quickly started laughing. “Well well! I guess Christmas came early.”

“Chief!” Jadzia reprimanded him harshly. “That is incredibly upsetting!”

“Oh, come on, Lieutenant! Aren’t ya getting at least a little kick out of this?” Miles covered his mouth as he giggled.

Julian felt his face growing redder by the second. He decided he was going to barricade himself in his quarters after he’d been released. 

“Absolutely not,” Jadzia’s voice was laden with ice, turning from Julian to appropriately direct her disapproval. “All I see right now is a distressed young man who needs our help. Who has been sitting here for God knows how long, and who didn’t get into this situation deliberately. So stop acting like a child, and help him!”

Julian gave her an appreciative nod. Thank you, Jadzia. At least someone here has a heart.

“Alright, alright,” Miles threw his hands up in defence. “Just give me a second to deactivate this thing.” The Chief disappeared from view again, his high-pitched sniggers still audible to Julian’s enhanced ears. 

He prayed his resentment wasn’t as obvious as he thought it was.

Bet you wouldn’t be laughing it was Dax in this mess. Or Sisko.

A few seconds passed before the forcefield fizzled away, allowing both officers to step through. He took notice of how Miles hung by the doorway and scanned the infirmary with his tricorder, while Jadzia immediately rushed over to him. She immediately set to work on the gag, her fingers working furiously at the knot. “Are you alright?”

Julian wasn’t sure how to respond. I’m alive, so I’ll accept that as a positive. But my pride has been absolutely shattered and I’m beyond embarrassed that you have seen me in such a vulnerable state and Miles is going to go and tell everybody and-

“Julian?” Jadzia paused, giving him a worried look.

Oh damn. “Mmm.”

Even when the bandages had been peeled away and his jaw could stretch again, he decided to keep those thoughts to himself.