A/N: Assume this takes place before Our Man Bashir and after Melora. NOT SLASH. This is my first DS9 fanfic, so hopefully it turns out okay!

Prologue

How the hell do I get myself into these situations?

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

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

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

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

If rescue happened, that was.

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

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