(very briefly in a younger memory)
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Summary
Julian helps the changeling impersonating him.
It wasn’t like the other time, on the Founders’ planet. The connection was much more direct, and there was no point in hiding what was happening. He didn’t have exact control over his- its body. He couldn’t have controlled it anyway; the signal was too laggy, throttled down to a trickle so it could slip through the wormhole disguised as background noise.
Still, it let him leave his quarters and play darts with Miles.
He considered spelling out some sort of message. Nothing overt, nothing that would be obvious in one meeting. Perhaps clustering the darts to one side, or in some other odd-but-not-impossible pattern. The clacking of the dabo wheels stuttered across the connection. Miles lurched from one position to the next, not quite as smooth as he would be in person. He didn’t even know if this was happening in realtime, or if it was some composite scenario the changeling was researching for later. But he could see Miles, and Leeta, and Morn, and even Quark, and they were alive, and the station was peaceful and he was home.