Ghosts, Part I

[dark_sinestra]

Author Notes: This story takes place shortly before and during the episode Hard Time. I keep meaning to combine some episodes for a story, and things keep fleshing out larger than I initially expected. I guess it just happens that way sometimes.

Summary: Chief O'Brien is pushed to the edge of sanity by an unfair alien criminal sentence, and Julian is forced to cope with and try to treat him during the aftermath. Garak finds himself shadowed by an unwelcome reminder of his checkered past, and Leeta moves toward some uncomfortable realizations.

Author: Dark Sinestra

Date Written: May 2010

Category: Slash, Het

Rating: PG-13 for strong adult situations, themes of depression and suicide, and mild sexual content.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Nope. Never were, never will be. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

Word Count: 13,195

 

 

Julian

Private Quarters

 

Julian was tired of playing kotra, but his opponent was relentless. He had already defeated her at three games. It wasn't enough. She rallied for a fourth. He didn't have the heart to let on that she had already engaged a losing strategy just five moves in. Leeta was determined to impress Garak at their next match. Julian was the unfortunate training partner she expected to get her there. He welcomed the computer's impassive announcement that he had a secure transmission coming in on his private channel. “I'll take it in the bedroom,” he said, shooting Leeta an apologetic look. She shrugged cheerfully and picked up the PADD of strategies she had been studying.

 

Kira's worried face popped up on screen as soon as Julian activated the connection. “I'm sorry to bother you at home,” she said brusquely, “but something happened to Chief O'Brien on the Argrathi homeworld that's going to require your immediate attention once we return.”

 

Julian stiffened slightly. “You're not expected back for another five days,” he said. “Will you be arriving sooner?”

 

She shook her head, pressing her lips to a thin line. “No, but I wanted to give you all the time I could to study the Argrathi method of prison sentencing. They're experts in mind control and mental manipulation. Chief O'Brien was imprisoned on a trumped up charge of espionage. By the time I realized what had happened, they already had him hooked up to one of their machines.” She ran pale fingers swiftly through her tousled hair, an impatient gesture.

 

“Slow down, Major,” Julian said, unconsciously leaning forward toward the screen. “What machines? What have they done?”

 

“Instead of incurring the cost of actual imprisonment, they create false memories. I don't know how they did it, but they created twenty years worth of memories of incarceration in just a few hours. He's sleeping right now. Julian, he's really...shaken. He reminds me of people I've met from Gallitep.”

 

He nodded slowly, grimacing. “I'll contact their homeworld and see what information I can get them to share with me, and I'll try to dig up as much research on their methods and prisoners as I can. Do what you can to keep him calm and comfortable for the duration of the trip. If you need me for anything, don't hesitate to contact me before your arrival. I don't care what time it is.”

 

“Will do,” she said with a terse nod. “Kira out.”

 

He stared at the dark screen with the Starfleet emblem for a few moments before shaking himself out of his surprise at the news. He hoped that the technology worked as some sort of bundled implant that could be excised whole-cloth. Otherwise, it could be a very messy situation. Standing, he crossed to the bedroom door and stuck his head out. “Leeta?” he said. “I hate to be rude and kick you out, but I have an emergency on my hands. I'm afraid I'm going to be tied up for the rest of the week.”

 

Her pleasant look shifted to concern. “It's nothing terrible, I hope?” she asked uncertainly.

 

“I hope not,” he said with equal uncertainty, “but for now, I just don't know.”

 

“I'll tell Garak dinner is canceled,” she offered.

 

“There's no reason you can't go. Please send him my apologies, and let him know it's work, would you?”

 

She nodded and quickly put the kotra board away. By the time she left, he was already in the process of trying to pull up everything he could find on the Argrathi prison system. He didn't want to contact the aliens completely blind, in case they attempted to deceive him. He could already tell this was going to be a very long five days.

 

Garak

The Promenade

 

Garak had a shadow that had nothing to do with the uncomfortably bright lighting of the station's shopping strip. She had been following him off and on for a few days now. He knew that the situation was an inevitability. All he hadn't known was how long it would take for it to start. Doubtless, she believed that she was stealthy. He did nothing to disabuse her of the notion, continuing to pick through the produce at the small Bajoran stall, squeezing this, smelling that, haggling over the price of a stickle pear that seemed to him to be just on the wrong side of ripeness.

 

He left the stall with his cloth bag nicely bulging and moved further down to the Bolian owned liquor store. The alien was in a price war with Quark which showed no sign of stopping any time soon, something that benefited everyone else. His shadow made her way to a jewelry shop across the way and cut a swift glance over her shoulder at him. Feigning obliviousness, Garak took his time selecting spring wine for Leeta and a bottle of Lissepian vikta, something that he and Julian had discovered was a decent compromise between his favored kanar and the doctor's scotch.

 

Just as he was on the verge of paying for his purchases, he found he had yet more attention, but Leeta made no effort to hide her interest, approaching him directly and stepping to his side. “Oh, fire,” she said with faint irritation. “I hoped I'd catch you before you went through all this trouble. Julian got a work call. It's just us tonight.”

 

Smiling slightly, Garak put back the bottle of vikta, much to the Bolian's annoyance. “Your timing wasn't entirely in error,” he said. “Nothing serious, I hope?”

 

“He's always closed lipped about his patients,” she replied. “Still, whatever it is, I think it's bad. He said he's going to be out of commission for the rest of the week.”

 

Garak mulled this and absently offered her the bag containing the wine. He could think of nothing obvious on the station that would require such effort on the doctor's part. However, he could readily admit that there was much of what Julian did that went beyond the scope of his attention. He paid for the purchase and gave her his arm. There was no longer any sign of the Dukat girl. Either she found somewhere to hide and observe or became paranoid at the prospect of another set of eyes and fled. “You and I will fare quite well this evening, I believe,” he said airily. “Have you been practicing your kotra?”

 

Julian

Docking Ring

 

Julian went through a mental checklist while waiting for the runabout bringing Miles back to the station to dock. The infirmary staff knew where to be and what to expect. He had consulted with Counselor Telnorri and set up a regular schedule optimized for sufferers of traumatic stress. He had also spoken with Keiko and managed to persuade her not to try to see her husband right away as well as briefing the command staff and keeping them at bay. His research and contact with the Argrathi Authority had not left him feeling optimistic about Miles' prognosis. The proof would be in the tests, of course, but he steeled himself for long-term complications and the challenge of a recalcitrant patient who would probably be averse to almost every recommendation he had for dealing with the trauma. He knew Miles well enough to know that.

 

The light on the airlock panel shifted from red to green, and the large round door rolled back to reveal the major and Miles in the corridor. Julian narrowed his eyes slightly. Miles had a hand on one of the bulkheads, his expression one of quiet disbelief. He called to get his attention and a moment later found himself the recipient of a tight bear hug. Kira took the opportunity to make herself scarce. He could hardly blame her, knowing that spending five days cooped up with the chief in this state had to have been an incredibly uncomfortable experience for her. The two weren't particularly close, and she wasn't exactly known for being demonstratively empathetic at the best of times.

 

He led Miles to the infirmary, explaining to him along the way why no one else had been there to greet him. He was pleased to see that his friend took every precaution he had taken so far on his behalf in the spirit in which it was intended, to spare him discomfort and keep him from being overwhelmed. If anything, he seemed relieved not to have to face Keiko or the captain yet. Before he even had the man on one of the biobeds he was deeply concerned. Miles' demeanor, the way his eyes flicked and shifted like those of a trapped animal, the way he shrank away from anyone else they passed on the Promenade all spoke of stress and trauma.

 

Initial scans confirmed everything he had been told directly and discovered on his own. The memories may have been time compressed, but they were very real. Miles had strong neural connections consistent with years worth of stress and harsh experiences. His GABA, enkephalin, and endorphins were all low while he had high levels of cortisol and norepinephrine. To his relief, Miles' hippocampus was unchanged, although Julian knew if they couldn't get a handle on his stress response to his perceived experiences, he could suffer long-term damage and even develop post traumatic stress disorder, if he didn't already have it.

 

While he scanned the read outs, he asked him simple questions about his experiences. He wanted to know what he was dealing with. He knew he had to keep things light and upbeat for now. More in depth questioning could be handled by Counselor Telnorri. Twenty years of solitary confinement sounded like torture enough to Julian without privation or beatings. He shored all his misgiving away and presented a positive front. Much of Miles' recovery would be up to Miles himself. It didn't mean he wouldn't need the understanding and support of his friends and family every step of the way.

 

“All right,” he said, “I've finished with my initial scans. I'd appreciate it if you'd just lie back and rest here for a short while. I'm going to need to compile some of the data and conduct a more thorough set of tests. I notice you're favoring your right arm, but I haven't been able to detect any sign of injury.”

 

“I thought it was broken,” Miles said, still seemingly not quite able to believe that everything he experienced took place over a matter of hours, not two decades.

 

Julian nodded. “Then it's natural that your brain developed alternate pathways to help you deal with the disability. Like I said, just make yourself comfortable. When I'm done here, I'd like to go get Keiko, if you feel like you'd be up to the company. She's worried.”

 

Miles nodded and prodded at his arm with his left hand. Julian left him to his inspection, instructing one of the nurses to put the engineer through a simple reaction test. He didn't have far to go, as Keiko was waiting for him on the second level of the Promenade, exactly where he had asked her to be. He hated to add stress on top of her pregnancy, yet there was no way he could lie to the woman. There was nothing he could do for Miles short of conventional therapy. There was simply no way to erase those memories without erasing all of his memories, and that was something he wouldn't even consider.

 

She took the news with the stoicism he had come to expect from her. Miles might complain about her from time to time. Privately, Julian felt that they were a good match. She balanced her husband's hot temper and impulsiveness with a solid grounding and practicality that seemed nearly unshakable. He hoped that she was as unflappable as she seemed to be, for she was going to need every bit of it to see the marriage through in the months to come. He wished that he had better news to give her. It was hard to see a friend going through something so unspeakably terrible and have so little with which to help him. He hoped that he was right about how strong and stubborn the engineer could be as he reassured the slight woman at his side.

 

“I asked him if he was ready to see you, and he said yes,” he said, pausing and putting a light hand to her upper arm. “Are you ready to see him?”

 

She raised her mirror dark eyes and met his gaze squarely. “He's my husband,” she said simply. “Of course I'm ready to be there for him.”

 

He nodded and gave a light squeeze, releasing her, and turning to lead the way back down to the infirmary. When they paused in the doorway of the exam room, he thought he saw a flash of fear in Miles' eyes. It faded quickly, and Julian retreated to give the couple their privacy. He tried to distract himself by going over some lab results from another patient, but the situation weighed heavily upon his mind.

 

A few minutes later, Keiko's voice from the doorway behind him caught his attention. “Is it all right if I take him home, now?” she asked.

 

He noticed her dark lashes were wet and looked away, feeling oddly as though he was intruding upon her privacy. “Of course,” he said. “Just remind him that he has an appointment with Counselor Telnorri first thing in the morning, and Keiko? If you need me for anything at all, call. I don't care how late it is.”

 

“Thank you, Julian,” she said, naked gratitude in her small, tentative smile. “I will.”

 

Garak

Garak's Clothiers

 

The tailor knew he should have gone home over an hour ago. He busied himself with small things that could have waited until the next day, partially out of curiosity, to see if the Dukat girl would wander by his shop doors yet again and partially out of paranoia. Just because she was more obvious than she seemed to think she was didn't mean she couldn't get lucky and be dangerous. Had her father put her up to this? Was she tormenting him deliberately? He could take nothing for granted when it came to a Dukat. He knew it all too well from hard experience.

 

He saw Julian approaching well before he crossed his threshold. It had been a long time since he had seen the man look so worn and lost. Brow ridges dipping in concern, he shut down his computer system for the night and beckoned him further inside. “You look dreadful,” he said. “I was about to head home. Would you like to join me?”

 

“I don't want to impose,” the doctor said, but his hopeful look belied the words. He obviously needed the company.

 

“It's hardly an imposition if there's an invitation,” Garak said lightly. “Just let me straighten up in the back, and we'll be on our way.” There was little left to straighten, habit a hard thing to break when it came to his closing rituals. “Done,” he said as he returned from his stock room. He locked up, and the two of them walked side by side toward the turbolift.

 

“You're working late,” Julian observed. “I wouldn't have even thought to try to find you there except that I saw the lights were still on. I didn't think you had another shipment due for at least two weeks.”

 

The Cardassian felt quiet satisfaction in the knowledge that the man was keeping tighter track of his schedule than he had in the past. He shrugged and stepped onto the turbolift. “You know how it can be,” he said. “Sometimes small tasks seem to consume one's time and attention, perhaps more than is always warranted.” Julian nodded, accepting that at face value. Garak realized he must be very tired indeed. “What of you? Will we be seeing more or less of you now that the chief has returned?”

 

“What do you know of it?” the doctor asked warily.

 

“Not much,” Garak replied, shrugging again. “He's only a topic of interest insofar as he manages to affect you.”

 

Julian smiled faintly. “It's good to see that some things don't change easily,” he said. He leaned his shoulder against Garak's and stayed that way until the two of them disembarked.

 

Garak insisted that Julian simply sit and make himself comfortable while he prepared the table and some food. He felt more relaxed in his own quarters where the girl couldn't spy so easily. He resolved to spend more time with friends, as she seemed to leave him alone when he was socializing. He watched the doctor pick at his food. Whatever was going on with O'Brien must have been serious. Julian's appetite was a reliable barometer of his mood. The less and more slowly he ate, the worse the circumstances. Perhaps distraction was in order. “If I didn't know any better, I'd say you've been conspiring with Leeta to improve her kotra strategy,” he said, taking a bite of his sem'hal stew.

 

Julian snorted a soft half laugh. “If anyone is the conspirator, it's Leeta. It's just about all she wants to do in our spare time. You've created a monster. She's bound and determined to be able to beat you at it one of these days. I'm merely a rung on the ladder to get there.”

 

He found himself genuinely amused. “She could do worse in her choice of teachers, but I would advise her to pick someone who has beaten me if that's truly her goal.”

 

“Very funny,” the doctor said, shoving a bite of food down. “No one on this station has beaten you to my knowledge. What's she to do? Contact Cardassia Prime, look up one of your old associates, and ask for a lesson or two?”

 

“If she can find one of my old associates, she won't need lessons at kotra,” he riposted more lightly than he felt at that turn in conversation. It was hard to find anyone from the old days these days, for any reason.

 

Unexpectedly, Julian reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “How are things on Cardassia?” he asked.

 

Garak shook his head, genuinely unable to answer that question intelligently. “We're both better conversationalists than this. Between my skirting your doctor/patient confidentiality and your asking me about things of which I have little knowledge and less inclination to speak, I'm surprised we're not both already done with our food.” He was gratified to get a more enthusiastic chuckle from that and further gratified to see the man focus more on his food. He worried at times that he was entirely too thin. Age wasn't helping.

 

“You know there's a springball tournament coming up in the not too distant future. From what I understand, the major intends to compete. Anyone asked you on a date yet?” Julian asked archly.

 

It was Garak's turn to snort. “I already happen to know it falls on a work night for Leeta. You don't have to pretend I'm your first choice for such an outing.”

 

“Who's pretending?” he asked, his large eyes twinkling.

 

“Certainly not you,” Garak sniffed. “It was ridiculously easy to see. As it happens, my calendar is free. Am I to understand that we're coming out in the open, then? You're no longer intent on hiding from your cohorts the fact that we have an unusual arrangement?”

 

Julian colored faintly, the reaction intriguing the Cardassian. Had he not considered it at all, or had he, and he felt uncertain about it? “I haven't been hiding things, per se,” he said evasively.

 

Garak shook his head. “No, of course not,” he agreed in such a way that conveyed the exact opposite. “It's not that I mind discretion. Far from it. However, you called this a date. The implications of expected behavior are different than that of an outing.”

 

Julian surprised him for the second time in the night, standing and circling to draw him to his feet. He allowed it, only to have arms settled about his waist and his nose nuzzled lightly. At such close proximity, Julian's features blurred to soft, tawny indistinctness. “I want you to act however you want to act,” he said, turning his head slightly to caress cheek to cheek.

 

He sighed as he felt himself being disarmed, any intention of being contrary fleeing in the face of the easy affection. It was something he still hadn't quite figured out how to combat. No Cardassian would ever move from slightly charged conversation to something so blatantly generous. Rejecting it outright would be too harsh, and stiffening and receiving it sullenly ungracious. He suspected the man was aware of all of this and took secret delight in how he succumbed. He tangled loose fingers in the dark waves and pressed the doctor's head to his shoulder. “What about cleaning up?” he rumbled, the only thing that came to his swiftly addling senses.

 

“Later,” Julian said with lips already at his neck.

 

It was a persuasive argument, persuasive enough to forestall protest and have him crab walking them both toward his sofa. They lingered there for quite some time, toying and teasing, and taking each other to a disreputable state of undress without fully disrobing. He enjoyed these moods of the doctor's, even if it meant that the man was fighting some internal demons and in need of comfort the best way that Garak knew how to provide.

 

He slid a hand further down Julian's unzipped uniform pants, cupping him through his thin underwear, and gave an expert flick of thumb nail. The man let loose a gratifying moan and twisted his hips. Garak's comm chirped. He ignored it in favor of more pressing distractions, but by the third chirp even Julian was twisting his head to look over at the console. “What if it's important?” the doctor asked breathlessly.

 

Grunting under his breath, Garak pushed up from his partial recline over his lover and arranged his tunic. By the time he reached the comm, he was comported enough to pass all but the most intense scrutiny. Sadly, there was little he could do about his darkened, swollen ridges. Perhaps whoever it was wouldn't be aware of the significance. “Yes?” he said sharply, allowing the call through.

 

Keiko O'Brien jerked back slightly, frowning. “I'm really sorry to disturb you in your quarters, Garak,” she said cautiously, “but the computer said Julian is there, and I haven't been able to raise him on his badge.”

 

Had they accidentally deactivated it? He glanced swiftly at Julian out of her line of sight and watched the man hastily dressing. The doctor's sudden frown of consternation told him all he needed to know. “It seems to be malfunctioning,” he said smoothly. “He's here, though. I can give you privacy if you need to speak to him.”

 

“Yes, please,” she said, stress tightening her almond eyes at the edges.

 

Garak stepped away and quickly finger combed the front of Julian's hair. Patting him on the shoulder, he retreated to his bedroom where he shamelessly activated the smaller comm and tapped into the feed. He closed the door so that Julian wouldn't overhear an echo of his own conversation with O'Brien's wife.

 

“I wasn't sure if I should contact you or the counselor,” Keiko said, “but I'm worried sick.”

 

“Tell me what's going on,” Julian said. Although Garak couldn't see his face through the feed, he could imagine the crease of concern between his brows.

 

“Tonight at dinner, he kept cutting his food into smaller and smaller pieces and tucked most of them into a napkin. He told me he was saving it. He said there were times he went weeks without food.” She swallowed heavily, a flash of anger in her eyes behind unshed tears. “We went to bed early. I woke up only to find him curled up on the floor against the wall. What did those monsters do to my husband?”

 

“I don't know,” Julian said, his voice tense. “Hopefully I'll know more once he has had a few sessions with Counselor Telnorri. Keep in mind that he's fighting what seem to him like twenty years worth of habits. They're not going to go away overnight. If he's sleep walking, I can give him something to prevent it. Try to find out in the morning if he recalls getting out of bed. Above all, be patient, and try to be as normal with him as you can be. Yes, the behavior is abnormal in context of his current life, but in his mind, everything he's doing helped to keep him alive for a very long time.”

 

Keiko nodded and dabbed at the corners of her eyes with a small white handkerchief. “I'm sorry I freaked out,” she said tremulously.

 

“You didn't freak out,” Julian assured her. “This is a frightening time for all of us. I'm glad you called me. As much as I hate to say this...” he hesitated for a moment. Garak wasn't surprised to hear what he had to add. “If he gets violent, I want you to call security as well as me.”

 

“Do you really think he'd hurt me or Molly?” she asked, looking incredulous.

 

“Not intentionally,” he said hastily. “But if he has a panic attack or a flashback, he might not even be aware of what he's doing. Better safe than sorry. You know that Odo and his men would never hurt Miles. They know how to deal with these sorts of situations.”

 

She nodded more hesitantly this time. “All right,” she said finally. “I hope it doesn't come to that. I'd better go. I don't want him to wake up and find himself alone in the bedroom. Please tell Garak I'm sorry for disturbing him. I never would've tried to contact him directly if it hadn't been urgent.”

 

“I'm sure he understands,” he said, “but I'll tell him anyway. Try to get some rest, Keiko. You're going to need it.”

 

“I will,” she said, looking a bit more bolstered by the conversation. “Good night, Julian, and thanks again.”

 

Garak cut the feed first and pursed his lips. He knew enough about implanted memories from his work in the Obsidian Order to know that O'Brien was dealing with a particularly nasty form of mental manipulation. No wonder Julian seemed so stressed. As his friend as well as his doctor, he had his hands full. He felt nothing at all for the engineer, but he did find himself concerned for Julian, particularly if things went badly with his patient. He quietly determined not to be quite so irascible as he knew he could be. He'd just have to be careful not to go too far in the other direction, or the man would realize he knew far more than he let on.

 

The bedroom door hissed open, and Julian stepped through. “I'm sorry, Elim,” he said. “I...don't much feel like picking up where we left off. If you want me to leave...”

 

Garak tsked and strode forward, quite content to take things into hand. “Nonsense,” he said. “You haven't spent a full night here in over a month. I think it's time to buck that trend and get some sleep. No arguments.” He deftly stripped Julian of his uniform and tossed him an old pair of his own pajamas that hadn't fit him for some time now. He knew that the man slept better in the company of another, and he also knew he was more likely to get actual sleep with him than he would with Leeta who always got off work in the early morning hours and would run the risk of awakening him as she readied for bed.

 

“Every time I expect you're going to give me trouble over something, you seem to take perverse delight in proving me wrong,” Julian said, smiling wearily and dressing in the soft garments. The neck fetchingly exposed his collarbones and the upper part of his chest. Garak enjoyed the view shamelessly without making any moves.

 

The tailor chuckled. “Few things please me more than proving you wrong, something that is fortunately all too easy. Now, if you're done with your backhanded flattery, I think I'd like to have a bath before joining you in the bed.” There was a matter of unfulfilled desire that he wasn't entirely certain wouldn't cause trouble in his sleep if he didn't deal with it beforehand, but he certainly didn't intend to tell that to Julian.

 

Julian nodded and climbed into bed, covering himself haphazardly with the blanket. “That's fine. I may already be asleep by the time you get here.” Garak thought that very likely. “Before I forget, Keiko wanted me to tell you again how sorry she was to disturb you.”

 

“Considering I'm the one who probably disabled your badge, I'd say it's only fair,” he said with a wave of his hand. Once more, Julian took him easily at face value. He frowned very slightly after turning away. The man was too tired, allowing himself to get sloppy. While Garak might delight in catching him flat footed and making things generally difficult, he had no intention of hurting him. He couldn't say the same for everyone on the station. He only just refrained from pointing it out, shaking his head and closing the bathroom door behind himself for privacy.

 

Julian

The Infirmary

 

Julian arrived for work to find Counselor Telnorri waiting for him. “Ah, Doctor Bashir,” the older man said pleasantly and stepped forward to greet him, “there you are. I was wondering if I could have a few minutes of your time?”

 

“Of course,” Julian said with a nod, gesturing the tall, slender counselor ahead of him toward his office. He offered him a seat and had the computer close the door. “Has something happened with Miles? I've been trying to catch up to him lately, but he seems very busy.”

 

The bearded man frowned, a shadow passing over gray eyes. “Yes, that is his excuse. I was loath to do this, but I feel that you should know that he has skipped his past ten sessions with me. Now, I understand that he truly is a busy man, but as you well know, he has full latitude to take the time off that he needs for his counseling sessions.”

 

Julian frowned and gave a soft sigh. “I was afraid this would happen,” he said heavily. “Miles is...stubborn, to say the least. Have you approached Captain Sisko about this?” he asked.

 

Telnorri shook his head, the silver hair at his temples catching the light in contrast to his dark crown. “Not yet. I wanted to give Miles, and you, the courtesy of approaching you first. If you can get through to him, we can avoid a heavy handed play from brass. I feel that in his current state, such a thing could be detrimental to his overall mental well being.”

 

“I concur,” Julian said. “I'll talk to him. If I can't get through to him, let me be the one to approach the captain.”

 

The man raised dark brows. “Are you sure? I know the two of you are friends. Such a move could damage your friendship, possibly beyond repair.”

 

“I know,” he said with a grim nod. “However, it's more important that Miles feels that he can trust you. If you're the one who goes to the captain, he'll resent you for it. I'd rather he resent me and be able to tell you about it than the other way around. Counseling is not my area of expertise.”

 

“He's fortunate to have you as a friend, Doctor,” the man said, rising and offering his hand.

 

Julian stood and shook it. “These days I'm afraid I don't feel like much of one, given how much he has been avoiding me, but thank you for saying so, and thank you for approaching me with this before talking to Captain Sisko.”

 

“We all have the same goal,” Telnorri said, turning and waiting for the door to whoosh open, “getting Miles back to a state of mental well being.”

 

Unfortunately, no matter how much he wanted to act on the information he had just been given, he didn't have the time. A new respiratory infection was making its rounds through the station, serious enough to require a few hospitalizations and pernicious enough to affect several different species. He stayed busy with new cases all day and a bit past his normal time to get off duty. As soon as he was able, he went searching for the chief. Of course, he had to be in one of the harder to access maintenance conduits. Undeterred, Julian set off after him, not looking forward to what he had to say.

 

Miles took it even worse than he anticipated. It was difficult not to take his insults personally, despite knowing them for what they were, a distancing tactic. He sat in the close corridor with the angry words still ringing in his ears. If there was one thing I didn't miss over the last twenty years, it was your smug, superior attitude. Miles wasn't the first to hurl such an accusation. Was it truly how he came across? All he wanted was to help. If he'd say such things to him, what was he saying to Keiko? Molly? Frowning deeply to himself, he crawled out the way he came and climbed down the access ladder. He was looking forward to the next conversation even less.

 

Not surprisingly, Captain Sisko was still in his office. It was very rare these days that he was able to get off on time. Julian nodded to the night shifters in ops and walked straight through the wide open doorway leading into the captain's office. “Is this a bad time, Sir?” he asked, pausing just past the threshold.

 

Sisko had his back to the door, his baseball in hand, rolling it slowly back and forth between fingers and thumb. He glanced at Julian over his shoulder, one scant brow raised. “No, Doctor,” he said, his bass voice a soft rumble. “Come in, and close the door behind you.” Julian did as he was bade and waited to take a seat until Sisko turned to him and gestured. “What can I do for you?”

 

“It's about Chief O'Brien, Sir,” he said reluctantly. “He has discontinued his therapy, and in my professional opinion, he is unfit for duty. He became very belligerent with me when I confronted him about his treatment, to the point that he made a vague, but I believe sincere, threat against my safety.”

 

Sisko frowned and leaned forward to set his baseball gently on its stand. He rested his weight on one folded arm and his cheek on his fist. He looked worn. “That's a serious assertion,” he said.

 

Julian nodded. “Yes, Sir,” he said.

 

“You're making it without qualifiers?” the captain asked.

 

“Yes, Sir,” Julian said again. “If he doesn't immediately return to therapy...” He tightened his jaw and forced himself to complete the sentence. “I see no choice but to have him forcibly confined to the infirmary until such time that he has recovered sufficiently to be released.”

 

Sisko sat up straight again and leaned back in his seat, staring briefly at the ceiling. When he looked back to Julian, it wasn't without compassion. “I imagine this is a difficult thing for you to do, Doctor. Chief O'Brien may not appreciate it now, but I believe there will come a time that he will look back on this and see that you had his well being at heart.”

 

“I hope so, Sir,” Julian said uncomfortably. He knew what he was doing was the right course of action. It didn't stop him from feeling as though he were betraying his friend. Rarely had he known such a divide between his personal and professional life. “I've done everything I know to do to get him to cooperate with Counselor Telnorri and the treatment regimen we've set out for him. We can't afford to give him any more latitude, for his sake and the sake of those around him. His condition is deteriorating rapidly.”

 

Sisko nodded and stood. “Thank you,” he said. “I'll take it from here. I'll contact you if this intervention doesn't go as planned. I trust you'll do as you've said, have him confined?”

 

Feeling a bit sick inside, Julian nodded tightly and stood, too. “Yes, Sir,” he said. “I will.”