[Quark had done his best to get the entirety of his panic attack out before addressing the network. If he had a choice, he wouldn’t be doing this at all—but he doesn’t. When he was dying, he could pick and choose who he told before his name showed up on the obituary. Now, he needs all the help he can get, from anyone who he can get it from. He let himself cry and scream and panic when he woke up in a body bag, when he fell out of it onto the stone cold floor, and most of all when he discovered what he’d lost. It took him until pretty late into the night before he thought he had a reign on his emotions.

But then he opens his mouth, and all the fear bubbles up again unbidden, choking his words and making them tearful. Every breath of air he takes makes him feel like he’s dragging.]

It’s Quark. I’m back but I—I really need help. I’m at the chapel, can somebody please come get me? I can’t—can’t—

[He takes a deep, shuddering breath.]

I can’t walk.