TITLE: Seduction 
SERIES TITLE:Destinies, Section 1
Author: Valerie Shearer 
Contact:thenightbird@earthlink.net
Series: DS9 
Part: Repost x/x 
Rating: [PG] 
Codes: Sloan and Section 31 

Summary: Sloan returns, and Bashir is obliged to make his choice. 

Note to archivist: Please archive this story. 

Note on distribution: This story may be passed on to others 
provided this entire header is left intact and my name and e-mail 
address goes with the story.  It may not be published or printed 
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Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction.  Julian Bashir, Ben Sisko, 
Elim Garak, Miles O'Brien, Section 31, Sloan, and possibly other 
things are all the property of Paramount Studios.  Abersand's 
Station is mine. 

    I would like to extend a note of thanks to Paula Stiles for 
her comments on the story as it developed, and to Gabrielle 
Lawson for her excellent editorial skills. 



                            Seduction 

                                by 
                         Valerie Shearer 


    All he wanted to do was lose himself in a different world, where Vic would sing a few songs and perhaps have a conversation with his customer.  Most of all he just wanted to sit in the audience and listen, surrounded by laughing and eating.  There would be no scones or redleaf tea to be seen.  He needed out of his nightmare for a little while. 
    He was so tired.  He hadn't slept properly since Sloan had taken him from his bed, and woke each morning afraid that he was in an illusion again.  He'd wandered into Quarks very late, desperate to forget, but the bubbling cauldron Quark had offered had been the stuff of nightmares.  He was surprised all the holosuits were busy that late, but he normally didn't frequent the bar then and if he couldn't go to the peace of Vic's lounge he didn't want to wait.  Miles had looked confused when he came to the door, having just gotten to sleep himself, and they had played Tongo for a while.  But Miles was sleepy and he knew it was time to go.  He was more sorry to dislodge Chester, curled up asleep on his lap, than to abandon the halfhearted game.  Miles had asked if he was ok, but he'd only said he was "tense" like he'd told Quark. But he was much more relaxed than he'd been, and almost wished he could just curl up with the cat on Miles's couch for the night. 
    He still hadn't gone back to his quarters.  He'd stopped by the Infirmary to "check" on things.  The nurse was busy and hadn't noticed the missing hypo.  He skipped getting ready for bed, setting the hypo to a minimal dose of the sedative.  Glancing at the bed he retreated to his couch, but he could see the replicator from there.  He could still remember all too clearly the little moment of horror when the tarkalian tea he'd ask for that evening became a plate of scones and redleaf tea.  He'd stared at it in horror and nearly dropped it on the floor in his haste to dispose of it, after working up the nerve to touch it at all.  Then he'd fled and only now, nowhere left to go, did he return.  He retreated to his bed, and decided to put on his pajamas after all.  Then, the hypo's hiding place arranged, he injected himself and dropped it safely out of sight.  In a few minutes he was lost in oblivion. 

    When the alarm woke him, he was in the middle of a dream.  It was one of those that left behind bits of itself upon waking, and he thought it had been about the prison.  Before Sloan had brought them back, he'd finally gotten to where he didn't have them very often.  But now he went back there nearly every time he slept.  He didn't remember any details with the help of the sedative.  He hid it better, for the next night, knowing there would be crew physicals and he was going to be very busy.  As for today, he hoped it was a light one.  He was very groggy, unable to shake the foggy sensation from his mind.  He wanted a raktajino very badly, but couldn't go near the replicator.  He got dressed as quickly as he could, and hurried to the replimat. 
    He ignored his breakfast, as he sipped the raktajino.  Slowly the fog started to lift in his mind, the unfortunate byproduct of the hypo.  But he couldn't sleep at all without it.  He wanted another cup, and nibbled on his food, not really hungry.  
    Miles arrived, stopping by Julian.  "Want another raktajino?" he asked.  Julian nodded and Miles wandered off for his breakfast.  When he returned, he sat next to Julian, sitting down the cup in front of him.  Julian abandoned the food in favor of the drink.  "Late night," observed Miles. 
    "Just couldn't get to sleep," said Julian as lightly as he could.  He'd been thinking about the replicator.  "I think my replicator is malfunctioning.  I tried a cup there but it didn't taste right." 
    "I'll get somebody to look at it," said Miles.  Julian didn't expect whatever had been done to it to be that obvious, but just in case it made him feel better.  Miles was looking at him.  "You ok?" he asked. 
    "Just been a little tense.  Something brought up some bad memories."  He thought he saw recognition in Miles expression.  "I'll get over it," he said, shrugging.  
    Miles nodded, yawning.  "Just let me get some sleep this time." 
    Julian replied, absently, nibbling at his food again, "Crew physicals tomorrow.  I'll get to sleep somehow."  
    Miles noted the time.  "Got to get going," he said. 
    Julian didn't reply, taking a few more bites of his breakfast before getting one last raktajino. 

    After work, Miles had asked if he wanted to play darts, saying it might help him relax.  Julian was as tired as he looked, and was distracted by something.  Miles did better than normal.  Julian didn't seem to be any more relaxed.  He'd finally given up on darts and Miles ordered a drink.  Julian didn't ask for synthahol.  He sat silently nursing his drink while Miles talked.  "You know, I didn't have anybody to spare to look at the replicator.  I'll do it now," he suggested. 
    Julian was careful to finish his drink.  "Sure," he said. 
    Once in his quarters, Julian started to tense up again.  He watched, saying little, as Miles checked out the replicator, finding nothing wrong with it.  Julian finally shrugged, "It must have been my imagination, then," he said. 
    Miles was worried, though.  Julian just wasn't himself.  "Are you sure you're ok?" he asked.  
    "It's just something from the weekend.  It brought up some bad memories I'd forgotten."   Julian yawned.  "I think I'll get to bed early tonight." 
    "Good idea for both of us," agreed Miles, and he went home. 

    Julian waited a few minutes in case Miles had forgotten anything, and got ready for bed this time.  He was dead tired, and sleep sounded inviting.  He removed the hypo from its hiding place and upped the dosage just slightly.  He managed to drop it into its hiding place near the bed.  Drugged into near unconsciousness, he slept without nightmares. 

    He was well rested the next day, and the crew physicals were going well.  He had the reports for that day assembled and ready to deliver to Sisko by early evening.  He just didn't want to.  He didn't want anything to do with Sisko. 
    The scones had reminded him, once again, of the surprise order to say yes to Sloan.  He had never said he would, but had spent many a night trying to find a way out.  He'd abandoned his secret agent holoprograms because they were no longer fun.  He suffered through meetings where he had to share the room with the man.  He still wondered what became of that biomemetic gel he'd been forced to package.  But that had given him a new view of the Captain.  He worried what Sisko might do should he refuse Sloan.  He hadn't considered it a risk before, but no longer felt he knew the man. 

    Ben was working late, surrounded by a sea of reports it was going to take him half the night to finish reviewing.  He was just about to take a break when Julian Bashir appeared at his door.  "Come," he said, reading through one of O'Brien's reports on Maintenance, hoping for some diversion. 
    "Sir," said Bashir rather stiffly, holding several pads.  He'd been rather distant of late, and Ben wasn't entirely sure why. 
    "Crew physicals?" he asked, wearily, not needing more to do. 
    "Yes, Sir," said Bashir, handing him the pads.  "I have more to do tomorrow, but generally the crew is healthy and doing relatively well at handling the stress." 
    "Good," Sisko said, looking up at him, perplexed.  "Is something wrong?" 
    "No, Sir," he said, looking like he wanted to go. 
    "You just seem ... tense."  Sisko picked up the pads.  "Well, if you can get the rest in by afternoon tomorrow, I'd appreciate it," he added, hoping to finish a little earlier than today. 
    "I should be able to," said Julian, stiffly.  
    Sisko looked at him, oddly, but shook his head.  He thought of all the paperwork he still had to do.  "Ok, that's all I guess." 
    Bashir left abruptly, Ben watching his quick retreat.  So much had happened since the war, so many desperate decisions, and there were so many fears to live with.  Whatever was bothering the doctor, he just didn't have time to be very concerned. 


                            ********** 


    Julian didn't mention the replicator again, not even to Miles, even when scones and redleaf tea appeared now and then instead of various dishes.  It happened irregularly, never the same dish twice, and made sure that Julian would never forget that Sloan was still waiting.  He'd gotten where he simply recycled the dish and asked again, this time getting what he wanted.  He'd become resigned that sooner or later Sloan would come and take him. 
    But sleep was still difficult, especially when the scones appeared.  No one ever missed the hypo that continued to help him sleep, although he only used it occasionally.  It dulled the details of that and other nightmares and  allowed him to sleep when they got too bad. 
    After Jadzia's death, when Sisko had gone back to Earth on leave, he'd had mixed feelings about his return, almost hoping he didn't come back.  If the Captain abandoned his post, Julian didn't feel bound by the order.  But eventually he had returned, and Julian waited for a hint he'd reconsidered, thought out his dangerous plan, and would change his mind.  Sisko never referred to his order and Julian continued to feel even less at ease in his presence, not quite able to forgive him, especially for abandoning them after Jadzia's death.  
    The first trip away from the station had been filled with constant worry, but nothing had happened.  He had left the station and returned, traveling alone twice without incident.  He was almost relaxed about the trip to Abersand's station, where an outbreak of a virus he'd once researched had prompted a request for his help.  He'd packed and boarded the transport, arriving and going to check his supplies.  He didn't remember making it to his quarters at all. 


                            ********** 


    This time, Sloan didn't use any trickery.  Julian woke in an unfamiliar room, after a fully restful sleep.  He knew he wasn't on the transport; they were crowded these days and nobody short of an admiral got a private room.  He waited, awake, for his kidnappers to reveal themselves, astonished at how calm he was, and wasn't at all surprised when Sloan strolled into the room.  "Good morning, Doctor," he said.  "I trust you had a good sleep this time." 
    Julian thought about the order Sisko had given him, and the disagreeable task ahead of him.  He wondered what Sisko would do if he refused, or if Sisko would have an opportunity to do anything at all.  Sloan had settled himself comfortably in a chair.  "I appear to be rested," he said tersely, remembering his exhausting first encounter with Sloan. 
    "You have a decision to make, Doctor.  I still want you.  I'm offering you a chance to be a part of something very important to the survival of the Federation."  Sloan was calm, almost disinterested. 
    Julian was wrestling with the choice of obeying Sisko's order or not.  "And if I refuse?" 
    "Then you turn us down.  But I'm confident you won't."  He smiled at Julian.  "Secrets are very hard to keep on a station like that." 
    So he knew about Sisko's order.  Julian still wasn't sure if he intended to obey or not.  "I'm still considering." 
    Sloan smiled again, "Not so loyal as they all think, I see.  I would take care with that.  He kept you in Starfleet and that *arrangement* could just as easily be reconsidered by 'certain people'." 
    Julian was certain Sloan would easily arrange just that.  He'd been ready to run once, but he wasn't sure if he could do that now.  He could lose more than just Starfleet.  He could have the right to be a doctor taken away as well.  He couldn't stand that.  "And if I agree to become part of your organization it won't ever be a problem to these 'certain people', I assume." 
    "Not enough of a problem for them to do anything about it," said Sloan with another smile.  
    So he had to choose between Sloan and some sort of disgrace.  He had no illusions about the choice.  He would pay a personal price whatever decision he made.  Again, he wondered what sort of madness had gotten into Sisko.  Sloan was getting up, ready to leave.  "I don't know," he said. 
    "Give it some thought," said Sloan.  "Your breakfast will be here soon, and we'll talk after that." 

    Sloan hadn't shown up after his breakfast, one he often chose himself, accompanied by a short note that Sloan had been delayed.  He paced around the room, knowing if medicine was taken away nothing else would matter.  Sloan would simply start the process, and without any help or support he'd end up locked up somewhere as unstable or dangerous.  He knew how precarious his standing was without Sloan's interference.  People knew about his abilities, but he still hid most of them.  It was that or be isolated completely. 
    But Sloan didn't care.  If anything, he welcomed them for the use that could be made of his extra talents.  He thought about how those at home--the station--had hedged on his nature.  Even Garak had been uncomfortable when he'd used his full potential openly.  Nothing really had changed.  He still had to live a lie to survive. 
    And even if Sloan didn't push, this time, he remembered all the sleepless nights, wondering when he would come.  Then there was the occasional order of scones and redleaf tea that came from his replicator, just as a reminder that Sloan hadn't forgotten.  He wondered if someone was watching, someone who reported to these 'certain people'.  If he started to slip, become less controlled, he was certain that Starfleet Medical would call him in, just in case, aware that in every other *known* case the enhanced person eventually had suffered severe debiliting side effects.  If they ever discovered the hidden hypo he still resorted to now and then he'd surely be doomed.  For him there would be no forgiveness.  They would blame his genetic background and put him away. 
    Lunch came, another of his frequent favorites, this time usually with Garak.  He ate it, wondering if he'd constantly been under observation.  If he said no and they let him go he'd always wonder who was watching now, and it would be even harder to pretend to be 'normal'. 
    A few hours later Sloan showed up again.  Julian had already come to his decision.  He accepted Sloan's offer.  Sloan surprised him, and washed away the melancholy that was filling his mind.  "Good, I always believed you would.  We already have your first assignment ready to go." 
    Julian thought of all the spy adventures he'd ever had in the holosuite, and knew that this would not resemble any of them.  Nervous, and for the first time admitting he was scared, Julian followed Sloan to a small meeting room and the next chapter of his life. 


                            ********** 


    He sat at a table in a non-descrip room, wondering how he'd ever gotten involved in this madness, terrified of what Sloan was asking of him.  He'd be taken by the Dominion, and would find himself with a man he'd be able to identify.  All he had to do was plant a transmitter on him and both of them would be rescued in turn.  He would have a special transmitter hidden on himself in case they were separated.  Sloan made it sound so simple.  To Julian it was the stuff of every nightmare he'd ever had. 
    But he understood something.  Sloan must have known that as well.  He had to prove himself before they would trust him.  Willingly entering his own nightmares would be an effective way of doing it.  He thought of how different Garak had been regarded by those few who knew about his claustrophobia, and what he'd done at the internment camp, once they had escaped.  Sloan wasn't willing to settle for an easy test.  He knew he didn't have a choice anyway.  He'd already agreed.  He'd have to follow Sloan's orders. 
    But Sloan was full of surprises.  He showed him a picture of himself.  "Meet Dr. Julian Bashir," said Sloan. 
    "I already have," said Julian, annoyed. 
    "Not *this* Dr. Bashir.  I'd like you to go home.  If you mysteriously disappeared for a week that would be rather difficult.  So you've been on Abersand's Station doing your best to handle all the problems presented by such a backwards place.  When you're done with your assignment, and your double is finished with his, you'll take the transport back to DS9 instead of him, raising absolutely no questions which might be hard to answer." 
    Julian said, resigned, "You planned ahead." 
    Sloan smiled again.  "I assure you, Doctor, this twin of yours is *quite* as knowledgeable and no one will suspect *you* weren't there." 

    He woke to a hazy light, coming out of some sort of anesthetic.  He'd gone to sleep that night after a long meeting on the assignment, not quite believing it was real.  His tongue found a tooth with something stuck in it.  He looked up to see a blurry Sloan standing above him.  "Rest easy, Doctor, we simply placed the transmitters.  One is embedded in a tooth, the other one is ... elsewhere." 
    "I can feel the one in the tooth," he said, his voice a little slurred. 
    "That is for you to implant.  Gradually it will work its way out and you'll have your chance without having to be obvious about removing it." 
    Julian was nervous, despite the drugs still in his system.  "What if it's not the right time?" he asked. 
    "You'll figure out something.  I trust you think well on your feet.  I'm sure you'll do quite well." 
    Julian wasn't so sure anymore.  The more he thought about it, the more he worried.  So many things could go wrong.  Sloan ignored all of them.  "I wish I shared your confidence," he said. 
    "Ah, but you underestimate yourself.  Those silly adventures you had were quite amusing, if unrealistic.  But even there you learned a few things.  You'll do fine.  Captain Sisko would be proud of you." 
    Julian felt a flash of anger, nor sure who it was aimed at.  "Please do not get into that." 
    "Certainly, if you wish.  He may find you are even less willing to be around him when you return.  I wonder if he'll notice."  
    "How soon?" asked Julian. 
    "As soon as the ship comes into range.  Just rest, Doctor.  You've always wanted to be a spy, now, haven't you?" 


                            ********** 


    Julian woke up in a bed, sharing a room with four others.  He could feel the trace of the implant in his tooth, and realized he'd been put on the ship Sloan was planning to sacrifice.  The room he was sharing contained four beds.  The other three clearly held refugees from the hastily evacuated areas where Dominion forces had been threatening.  He hadn't been told just how he'd end up in Dominion hands, but looking at the sleeping passengers near him, he had a terrible feeling they were in the wrong place at the wrong time and would pay for it. 
    He considered warning them.  But he doubted they'd believe him, and Sloan would either kill him or let the Dominion have him for good.  But Sloan had to know he'd consider it an option, and a sudden alarm confirmed he wouldn't be given the chance.  A voice came over the speakers, urgent and breathless, "All passengers will stay in their quarters.  This is not a drill." 
    The Jem'Hadar and his assignment was nearly there.  But he wasn't sure if they'd simple identify and execute him before he got anywhere near the man he was to contact. 
    Something hit the ship, and it went pitch dark.  The others started to mumble, and he helped them find a safe place to hide lest something fall.  He rubbed his tooth, thinking of Sloan and his cold-blooded plan.  He kept telling himself there had to be some point to this.  Sloan wouldn't sacrifice these people for nothing.  

    The lights came on just before the Jem'Hadar appeared.  He noted their number and surrendered without any resistance along with the others in the room.  He knew they wouldn't hesitate to use the butts of their rifles, and didn't wish to provide a demonstration for anyone else. 
    The captured passengers were herded into one of the cargo bays, and the doors locked.  They found somewhere to sit, and stared, stunned, into nothing.  Julian was no exception.  He hoped Sloan had not been lying.  He knew cooperating with Sloan was his only way out, and in the quiet, dark room wondered if it would matter. 
    Sometime later, the Jem'Hadar started to take them out in bunches.  He'd been scanned and marked, and along with those in his group marched to another ship.  From there they were locked in large cell, and a box of rations was tossed in.  Someone had the presence of mind to distribute them and count the rest.  They were the same sort of thing they'd gotten at the internment camp.  He moved toward the woman keeping the box.  "You'll need to sleep," he said.  She nodded, and he joined her vigil. 
    But the next day, more or less, she was on her own again.  The guards called his name and ordered him to come.  He was numb, but he stood up reluctantly.  He managed to make it out the door without showing how nervous he was.  His tongue danced over the tooth again. 
    They led him to a small room and shoved him inside.  From the door, the Jem'Hadar said, "You have been identified as an escaped prisoner.  You shall answer for this." 
    Julian discovered the room had nothing in it and sat on the floor.  The nightmares that had haunted him since his kidnapings merged and became one, and he forgot Sloan for awhile, trying to remember everything he'd ever known about the Jem'Hadar. 

                            ********** 

    Julian came to on the floor of the cell, aware that he wasn't alone.  Someone had tried to make him comfortable.  His tongue traced outline of the device hidden inside the tooth, and he wondered where Sloan had hidden the other one on him, of if he'd been lying about that.  He had had ample opportunity to consider Sloan and his ways in the last few days since the ship's capture.  He was certain that a man who would condemn a ship full of civilians to Dominion capture would not hesitate to lie. 
    But the plan, as Sloan had outlined it, appeared to be working.  He'd been identified as an escaped prisoner and roughly hauled away from the others.  He'd been questioned as well, something Sloan hadn't mentioned but Julian had anticipated.  When they were done, and he'd finally admitted who he was, he'd been dumped unconscious on the floor of this cell. 
    He remembered, in a vague way, being rearranged from the heap in which he'd landed.  More comfortable, he'd immediately gone to sleep.  If he'd opened his eyes at all he didn't remember.  He felt sick and lightheaded, and didn't want to even attempt to sit up yet.  But he had to know if the man in the cell was the one that Sloan had said would be there, the only one, Julian knew, that would lead to his own rescue. 
    He opened his eyes slowly, his vision still blurry, but clear enough to recognize the man.  Sloan's plan was still working; he might yet get out of here himself.  "Ummm, thank you," he mumbled, closing his eyes again to stop the pounding in his head. 
    "You must have been stubborn," said the man. 
    "Don't want to go back," he whispered. 
    "Ok, get some sleep.  I'll wake you when we get fed."  Julian couldn't stay awake, and couldn't think of any safe conversation anyway. 

    He woke up again sometime later, his head pounding less and the dizziness gone.  He still hurt a lot, but it was not so pronounced this time.  He simply rolled onto his side and opened his eyes.  The man was watching.  "I saved you some food.  I couldn't wake you up." 
    Julian didn't think he wanted food right then, but probably needed it.  Carefully, he started to sit up and nearly fainted.  "Maybe not," he said to himself.  His companion handed him one of the ration bars, and he unwrapped it.  Cradling his head on his arm he ate lying down.  He wondered why the cell was so warm.  The food didn't upset his stomach, at least.  But he kept tracing the device in the tooth each time he touched it and it reminded him why he was here.  If only he could sit up he might be able to do as he'd been told. 
    "You look feverish," said the man, confirming Julian's own suspicions.  This hadn't been a part of Sloan's plan, or at least not one he knew of. 
    "It does feel warm," he said.  Of course, there had been a lot of people on the ship, and he'd been crowded among them for several days.  He could have caught something from one of them.  "Probably from the refugees," he said. 
    "Might delay their plans," said his companion, "Or maybe not.  It really doesn't matter much in the end." 
    Julian fell asleep before he could reply. 

    There was noise.  He heard the door open and close, and something was tossed on the floor.  He shook himself awake, still hazy and warm, but the drug they'd used had finally wore off.  He didn't react until the noise was over, then rolled towards the man, who was picking up the bars of rations. 
    He tossed a handful to Julian.  "Eat carefully, they don't seem to worry about any particular schedule."  
    Julian unwrapped one, still not sitting up, and bit off the end.  It was tasteless and gummy, but he chewed until it was gone.  His tongue traced the tooth again, and the insert was half-way out.  He reached in and pulled it out completely, worried he'd swallow it.  Holding it in his hand, he didn't know what to do with it. 
    With great concentration he rolled until he could sit up.  He had a dull headache, and the room felt hot, but the pounding had gone.  "I think I'm feeling a bit better," he said.  Cupping the device in his hand, he grasp the man's outstretched arm, and while he held on the device poked its way in. 
    There was a look of dull surprise and resignation on the man's face.  "It figures," he said, looking at Julian.  He didn't let go, but continued to help Julian steady himself.  He helped pull him to a full sitting position, and let go. 
    Both looked at the small red spot on the man's arm.  Julian hesitantly said, "Sharp fingernail". 
    Looking away from him, the man said grimly, "Must be." 
    He wasn't sure what to expect now.  He'd done as he was supposed to, and planted the transmitter.  Now he waited; no, they waited.  It was Sloan's turn now.  Julian told himself everything else, well most of it, had gone as planned.  He would choose to believe that the last part would as well when Sloan would rescue them. 

    Julian watched the door.  The rations were almost out.  Sloan had not whisked them away, and he was worried.  He was still sick, his fever slowly rising, and his strength fading fast.  But his companion was worse.  He'd come down with a fever hours after the small device had penetrated his skin.  Julian, tired and scared, wondered if his own illness had come from it as well.  Sloan had sacrificed a ship full of civilians, and Julian was afraid he'd trick a naive doctor into doing what he would not do if he'd known. 
    The man was very ill, far worse than Julian.  The Jem'Hadar had looked in once, and someone had scanned both prisoners.  Nobody had come since, and the food was almost gone.  He wondered if they weren't going to bother to feed them. 
    Julian could think of a dozen treatments he could have used, given some medical equipment.  But he'd already learned about that, and understood there would be none.  He was almost certain the man would die if not helped.  Julian had done what he could but he was sick himself, and too tired to try.  If Sloan came through he hoped he had a doctor.  Julian's fever was getting dangerously high.  He had given up doing more than just checking if his victim was still alive. 

    There was a noise again, and he roused himself enough to notice the handful of rations tossed in the door.  If he could get to them was another matter, but he decided to try.  Forcing himself to move, crawling along the floor, he stopped by his contact.  He felt for a pulse.  There was none.  The man was dead.  If Sloan was going to rescue him all he'd get was a body.  But then Julian had already figured that was the real plan.  
    He pulled himself towards the door, grabbing the rations, tucking them under him, and retreated to the furthest part of the cell, away from the door and the body.  Rolling on his side, facing the wall, he resigned himself to a miserable death alone bitterly surrounded by lies. 


                            ********** 


    Julian woke, his head pounding and every part of his body vying for what ached most.  The fever was still present, but better.  At least he was able to think straight.  He wasn't sure that was such a good idea at that moment.  What if he'd recovered so they could send him back to Internment Camp 371, or if they were just going to execute him. 
    But a voice pulled him instantly into a different reality.  Sloan said, rather concerned, "Well, Doctor, how are you feeling?" 
    So Sloan had kept his promise.  "Your operative is dead," he said.  "Your device killed him.  I suspect it almost killed me as well." 
    "Actually, Doctor, you did rather well," said Sloan, pleased with himself.  "You passed." 
    "Are you saying this was just another of your holodeck simulations?"  Julian felt awful and just wanted to sleep, but wanted Sloan to tell him he hadn't unwittingly been an assassin. 
    "Oh, I can assure you, it was quite real.  If we hadn't been able to rescue you, you would be quite dead by now."  Julian doubted Sloan would have really minded. 
    "Who was he?" he asked, grimly, not expecting an answer. 
    Sloan surprised him.  "A double agent.  We've been feeding him information for some time.  He hadn't had time to tell them anything new since he'd been pulled back, but we had to make sure he couldn't.  You did very well, Doctor." 
    It made sense to Julian, in a reluctant way.  "And I suppose Starfleet Intelligence doesn't even suspect you're doing them this favor." 
    "Ah, Doctor," said Sloan, very pleased with himself.  "You are catching on.  Perhaps you learned more than I'd hoped this week."  He smiled at Julian.  "Starfleet intelligence had no idea he was a double agent.  Should they have come to suspect, his usefulness would have ended rather instantly, as would  his life." 
    Julian thought about the implications for a minute.  "Starfleet has been infiltrated by others, then." 
    "Oh yes, especially with an enemy with the patience to wait.  And who was well prepared long before anyone worried about them." 
    "Except you," said Julian, remembering what Sloan had said a long while ago, the first time Section 31 had kidnaped him.  "You did more than worry." 
    Sloan was studying him, with a little smile on his lips.  "Precisely, Doctor.  I see we picked a proper first mission for you.  If he had not been receiving controlled information, it's very possible the Federation would be under Dominion occupation by now.  As you know something of what living under their control is like, I doubt you'd want that.  It cost your idealism, but you saved a good many lives in bringing about his death." 
    Julian didn't have anything to say.  His head hurt too much, and he didn't want to face up to what he'd done quite yet.  Sloan left, and Julian went to sleep feeling a little more secure than he had before. 

    A few days later, Julian was feeling much better, and was getting restless to get out of bed.  He'd spent a great deal of time thinking about his assignment and the things Sloan had left out.  Sloan must have had someone else at the prison, someone who was not deemed expendable.  It made perfect sense.  It wouldn't have worked unless they had someone high enough to supply all the information.  And it had provided the perfect opportunity to both test his loyalty and draw him in so deeply there was no escape.  
    Sloan came back, this time with a package.  "You are doing a lot better than your counterpart," he said.  "He became rather ill at Abersand's Station.  So you'll be spending a little longer with us." 
    Julian had been thinking about the events and Sloan's explanation.  However unintentionally, he'd killed the man.  He should feel more guilt than he did.  "He knew something was wrong when I gave him the device," Julian said with much thought.  "I didn't see why, but he was expecting someone to eliminate him." 
    "You'll learn," said Sloan.  
    Julian was angry.  He didn't feel the guilt he knew he should.  The anger was as much at himself as Sloan.  "I don't want to learn." 
    "Ah, but you'll be going home soon," said Sloan, very smoothly.  "You'll go back to being Dr. Bashir.  If you can." 
    "You're letting me go," said Julian, confused. 
    "In a manner of speaking."  Sloan smiled.  "They'll be more for you to do.  But you'll be eased into it.  You'd be home now except your twin got very ill and we can't slip you on the transport until he leaves.  A minor problem ... " 
    Something else was bothering Julian.  "What about that ship you arranged to have captured.  Those were civilians.  I assume you didn't rescue them." 
    "Casualties of war, Doctor.  It wasn't personal.  They were in an ideal location.  It's likely the Jem'Hadar would have found them in any case." 
    Julian had started to wonder, if he'd known the truth, what would he have done.  What scared him most was that he didn't know anymore.  Sloan's explanation had made such perfect sense.  Assuming it was true, Sloan had every concern for the survival of the Federation at the core of his actions.  But he couldn't accept using the ship as bait.  "But you made sure.  You have no right to do that." 
    Sloan sighed, placing the package on the bed.  "You'll come to understand.  When a predator chases a herd of animals some of them die, and the predator goes away fed.  But the rest continue.  Those people are their prisoners, but many more will not be."  
    "We are not herd animals," said Julian.  But underneath the outrage, he understood, and it worried him. 
    "No, but the principle is the same.  You must rest, Doctor.  You'll be busy when you get home.  For now, welcome to Section 31."  He indicated the box.  "This makes it official."  He smiled, and Julian felt cold. 

    He had eventually opened the box, discovering one of the black uniforms inside.  He had tossed it aside, hoping Sloan would take note of it.  He had no intention of wearing it unless Sloan made him.  Julian had spent the time since Sloan's last visit thinking about escape, and had concluded there was none.  He couldn't quit.  He wasn't ready to defy Sloan and die.  And in the back of his mind was a small suspicion that Sloan was right; he filled a needed role.  Even if Julian Bashir could have stopped him, he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to anymore.  
    Just the same, he knew he didn't want to be a part of Section 31.  He would never have agreed, even realizing it might mean his death or disgrace.  But Sisko had changed all that with his order.  Sloan had only hinted, but he had been too confident that Julian would accept.  He had to have known.  Julian had been looking forward to going home, but had already come to see that it would never be the same, that *he* could never be the same. 

    He woke from the nightmare, the man's face still clear in his head as Julian touched him with the device.  He knew he was going to die.  In his dream Julian knew it too.  
    His "double" had been put in quarantine, and Sloan had informed him that it would be longer.  He was bored, and had been 'invited' to work in the ship's lab.  It was something to do.  He had put on the uniform, telling himself it didn't really mean anything.  But the dreams had started after that. 
    He was used to nightmares.  They'd been a part of his sleep since the Dominion had taken him from his bed.  But this was clearer and more focused, vivid in a way the others were not.  Each time it repeated he got a little more used to it.  He had looked the man in his eyes this time.  Both of them had known.  On that ship, he thought, he had only been denying it.  There had been a little hesitation, and if he'd believed he was saving him there would have been no need for that.  He laid back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to deny what he'd done. 
    He remembered the meeting with Sisko and the order that had sealed his fate.  Without that order, Sloan would have just sent someone else.  The man who had put him there was Sisko.  He wondered if Sisko would even care what it had cost him.  He wondered if anyone cared about him anymore. 

    The transport was crowded, mostly people returning to duty after leave, and he kept to himself.  Sloan had seen him off, taking back the black uniform and returning his Starfleet luggage.  He'd been beamed into the transport after its departure, and gone to bed.  Nobody had noticed he wasn't the same man who'd boarded.  Nobody knew he wasn't the same man who'd packed for the trip to Abersand's Station. 
    He'd left the black uniform behind, but not what it meant.  He was Section 31.  If there was no way out he would have to live with it.  It was odd, knowing one of the most carefully guarded secrets of the Federation.  It was almost like the way he'd felt before his enhancement had become known and he'd always been aware that he could never be himself. 
    The last few days, he'd began to look at things differently.  He didn't want to go back to DS9.  It had somehow ceased to be home.  He didn't have one anymore.  He didn't want to have to look at Sisko, or tell more lies to Garak.  He wanted to go where nobody knew him at all, where nobody would miss what had been destroyed the moment he'd killed the man. 
    They would dock at DS9 tomorrow, and he would appreciate the room after the crowded transport.  The ship he'd come there in the first time had been crowded as well.  He had come to the station with a secret, and now he had another.  He hoped nobody would notice that a stranger had come home. 


                            ********** 


    As he stepped off the transport, Julian had realized that it was almost as if it was a different place than he'd left.  The people were the same, and the places sounded much like he remembered them, but they were distant now.  He felt apart from them.  There had always been a little of that feeling, even here, where he was more at home than anywhere else.  But it was very strong now.  He suspected Sloan had someone else on the station he was interested in, and Julian would be asked to watch.  He didn't want that, but had no choice.  Sloan had taken that away.  Sisko had made it impossible not to let him.  Sloan was gone, at least for now.  He still had to look at Sisko daily.  
    He'd seen Sisko pass by when he was eating his lunch, dining alone by choice.  He'd felt the anger rise, and lost his appetite.  Sisko would never know unless he chose to tell him.  If he'd been able to transfer away from here, he'd have kept his secret, but Sloan plainly intended him to stay.  He didn't know if he could stand the Captain's presence unless he released some of the bitterness. 
    He wanted Sisko to feel guilty.  He'd had months he couldn't sleep without the hidden hypos, and he would never forget the man's face as the small device had sealed his fate.  He could understand Sloan, in a kind of cold-blooded way.  He still could not understand why Sisko, who had considered him a friend, would condemn him to this.  But it didn't matter now.  It was done.  Now, it was Sisko's turn to suffer. 

    Julian hadn't been back to the station for more than a day.  Sisko had seen him once, looking busy and preoccupied, and thought he was using his work to shut out troubles again.  He'd seemed quiet, too.  But then he'd been rather sick and Sisko assumed that to be the reason. 
    But that evening someone was at his door.  Julian stood quietly, formally waiting to be invited inside.  His manner was distant.  Sisko asked him in, wondering what had brought on this late night visit. 
    He stood rather than sitting.  He immediately struck Sisko as different, as if there was a barrier between them.  "I'm glad to see you back, Julian.  We were concerned when we were notified you were ill." 
    Julian didn't even react.  He didn't stare, but carefully looked Sisko over.  Ben felt uncomfortable from the scrutiny. "I thought you'd like to know I wasn't anywhere near that hospital and I didn't get sick there."  His voice was calm and deliberate. 
    Sisko was shaken by the tone and the information.  He looked at Bashir.  "Who was there?" he asked, not sure he'd get an answer. 
    "I don't know," said Bashir rather casually.  "A double of sorts." 
    Sisko was beginning to put it together.  He wondered if his suspicions were correct but wasn't sure he should say it openly.  "You were contacted, then?" 
    "And I obeyed your orders."  His voice was calm, a little cold in fact.  "I was busy elsewhere," he said tonelessly. 
    "This isn't the best time for a briefing," said Sisko, a trifle nervous, sure something was wrong. 
    "I have no intention of discussing it," said Bashir flatly, unemotionally.  "And it won't be brought up again.  It would be wise to keep it to yourself as well." 
    Sisko was shaken, both by the words and the tone.  Whatever had happened had done serious damage to Julian.  It was plain who he blamed.  Whatever had happened, and whatever he had learned about Section 31, he wasn't inclined to say a word to Sisko about it. 
    But Sisko had to try.  "Julian, they kidnaped you, and for all you know they might have killed you.  You can't protect Sloan." 
    There was a flash of anger in Julian's otherwise calm demeanor that worried him.  Julian stared at him, his voice clipped and filled with submerged anger.  "And you forced me to join them.  Did you think Sloan would just accept my word that I'd give them my loyalty?  You didn't think I'd have to prove that I meant it somehow.  You never even thought about what that might mean.  I hope you're satisfied now."  A deadly quiet came over the room, as Bashir showed all the resentment he felt towards him and just stared.  For the first time Sisko was afraid Bashir might be dangerous, though to whom he didn't know.  "If Sloan would approve I'd ask for a transfer away from here, but I have to stay put.  But I would advise you to forget about this conversation."  
    Bashir stopped staring and Sisko took a breath.  He wondered what had happened that had so embittered Julian.  He had thought it might ask a great deal of Bashir, but never expected it to end up like this.  He'd read up on the traditional initiation rites of organizations of this sort, who existed in secrecy or ruled by force.  Murder was among them.  He wondered if this is what Julian had been forced into.  He should have considered that before, but there had been so much else in his life. 
    "I'll never bring it up again," said Sisko, carefully. "I didn't mean it to come to this, but I'll live with it."  Like I lived with the other things, he thought. 
    Bashir just watched, and studied him carefully.  "How nice for you," he commented, sarcastically.  He finished rather coldly, "That would be the best option."  But there was just a hint of threat in the tone too.  Bashir gave him one last hard cold look, and turned suddenly and left. 
    Sisko realized that of the bad decisions he'd made in his life this one possibly was the worst. 

The End