Lights flicker in a long, lonely corridor. A strange cold permeates the air. Nobody dares walk here alone, anymore. And nobody will live in the quarters these hallways adjoin. This whole area is haunted.
Don't believe in ghosts, you say?
Neither did I. Until, I saw him.
He's quite beautiful, actually, in a terrible way. An early death prevented time from marring his perfect features. But, his face is twisted by eternal sorrow.
I shall never forget seeing him, try though I may. Those staring eyes, which paralyzed me. The icy touch of his long-dead hand. And the echoing sound of his voice.
"I love him, please tell him that I love him."
Then, oh Gods!, the touch of those ghastly lips to my own.
"Give that to him for me won't you?"
My timid agreement, a promise that must go unfulfilled. I could not voice the truth- that the man he loves is also gone.
And Julian Bashir must go on crying for Elim Garak throughout eternity.
"Must we break up everything that is special to us, or sacred-unknown, and holy-into halves, and then fourths, and then eighths? What happens to us when all the sacred, all the whole, is gone-when there is no more whole?"
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