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Limitless	By : CyreliaJ Category: Star Trek > Deep Space 9 Views: 2154 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek Deep Space Nine of any of its characters. I'm also not making any money off of this.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Note: I do like to throw in a lot of random references from other places. I couldn’t help but borrow Ogden Salsbury from Dean Koontz’s Night chills. Also forgot to mention in the last part the title was completely inspired by the song “Limitless” by Pushmonkey. C&C is always welcome. Thanks for reading!
Chapter 1
   The briefing had been underway for nearly an hour. Commander Sisko, after a well-earned rest, had given a thorough accounting of his time in the mirror universe to the senior officers. After debating the merits of pursuing the technology necessary to open the dimension again it was Lieutenant Jadzia Dax who at last turned the conversation to the topic of their mirror universe counterparts. Dr. Julian Bashir sat back in his chair throughout the entire affair looking distant, his eyes darting repeatedly around the room seeming to measure every bit of it for future reference. His hand twitched every now and then as if desiring to fidget with some unseen object. Julian offered little in the way of conversation- had offered little in the way of contribution at all- even as his own counterpart’s escapades were brought to the forefront of the discussion. No one had chosen to comment on it until Commander Sisko looked at him at last with a querying expression.
“You’ve been unusually quiet today, doctor.”
   To this Julian raised his eyes, the expression which crossed his face flickering with uncharacteristic irritation for just a moment. He blinked at the question, face going almost completely blank. His eyes darted quickly to the rest of the senior officers before he looked back up at Commander Sisko still remaining seated lazily reclined in the chair.
“My apologies, Commander.” Julian smiled; it bordered on simpering. “I assure you, you have always had my full attention.” Chief O’Brien sitting to his right looked momentarily confused by the expression; Julian took immediate notice. He dimmed the grin as he caught the disapproval and stretched his back with a sigh. Captain Sisko raised an eyebrow at the dismissive body language but gave no censure. “All I can offer is that your description of my counterpart sounds bloody dreadful.”
   If Commander Sisko was at all nonplussed by the response he gave no indication of it.
“Oh I’m sure somewhere beneath the insufferably combative exterior lurked a heart of gold.” Julian snorted at that.
“I think I’ll save my benevolence for those who actually deserve it.” He had everyone’s attention now; everyone was looking at him with concern. Julian met their stares with a look of challenge that dared them to question the statement or his actions.
“Are you feeling okay, Julian?” It was Miles who asked and Julian turned to look at the Chief. He seemed about to say something, that irritation once more flickering across his face so quickly its existence was questionable. He seemed to think better of it and instead leaned forward resting arms on the table giving somewhere between a sigh and a yawn. “I’m sorry, everyone. I’m afraid I’ve been out of sorts these last few weeks.”
There was a pregnant pause as those in the room remembered the Lethean’s near fatal attack with sympathy. Julian watched the lot of them discreetly as if confirming something.
“Well,” Jadzia’s voice interrupted the quiet moment. As everyone looked at her she seemed to be radiating amusement from some private joke. “Maybe there’s a little bit of our mirror selves in all of us.”
Major Kira seemed horrified at the thought of sharing anything at all with the intendant.
“Speak for yourself!”
“Yes Major,” Julian parroted with a soft sleepy chuckle. “Speak for yourself.”
***
   “Dr. Ogden Salsbury, convicted star date 6169.2 of mass torture, murder, crimes against humanity…” He trails off with another tap of the keypad. “…His research to be completely expunged from Starfleet, purged from Federation databases, erased from the very annals of human history itself.” Dr. Julian Bashir stares intently at the brain mapping on screen; the dim lighting of the infirmary after hours gives his eyes an almost alien glow. He smiles as he turns his attention to the chemical simulation of the pharmaceutical compound on the adjacent screen and taps a few more keys. “Until today, that is.” He initializes the program and watches the neural activity on the screen almost forgetting to breathe as the 3 dimensional rendering rotates to reflect the different synaptic sectors of the model in front of him. But now… is it going to stimulate the correct neural pathways for the desired affect…?
3-Quinuclidinyl Benzilate was the drug which began the process but it is now ending with a combination of Sodium Amytal and…
“Fuck!” Julian catches the slip in the silence of the room. Of course no one heard you there’s no one but you in here at this hour. Reassured, he stares at the screen again. It isn’t enough. Somehow the different memory partitions in the Cardassian brain are still eluding him. Julian takes a step back and swears again at the doctor’s ridiculously short haircut and lifts a newly acquired silver chain from under his uniform twining it around his fingers. Alright, think. You can do this. This is nothing. This is shite you can do in your sleep. It’s just a matter of refocusing and getting rid of all the cobwebs from the last decade… Julian brings up dosage D and marks it as a failure. The effect is almost perfect but it isn’t there yet.
They said that the night chills resulting from Salsbury’s compound were the first clue that something wasn’t right. Julian snorts at that as he crosses his arms and refocuses dropping the chain back beneath his shirt.
“Yes, of course, the night chills.” He speaks out loud now. He’s alone. Odo has run off on that fool’s errand with Garak and no one else in the Security office cares enough to check the monitors- barring any incidents, that is. Julian scoffs as he walks the length of the small office stretching his legs. “Every other glaring sign of complete mental subjugation, every signal of post-traumatic stress, unknown emotional distress, inexplicable physical trauma… And the worthless tits calling themselves “doctor” couldn’t even begin to piece anything together until a few school children complained of being cold.”
But it does leave a clear indicator of what will be the most obvious sign. Julian licks his lips thinking of perhaps a better approach to the problem. Chills in humans could be managed and possibly mitigated altogether. Humans have a higher adaptability where temperature is concerned, after all. Temperature distortion could even be dealt with but a Cardassian’s endocrine system...
“It’s already too cold here, isn’t it, Garak? And I know how you hate the cold… No, I won’t do that to you. It would be unnecessarily cruel and I am nothing if not a merciful god.” He laughs softly walking away from the screen with a toss of his head.
‘You are nothing if not a madman with a god complex.’
Julian stops with a small smirk.
“I was wondering when you were finally going to show yourself again, doctor,” he says out loud.
‘You’re not going to get rid of me that easily.’
‘Pity, that.’ His hand is stilled but he isn’t concerned. ‘Let go.’
‘You’re not just going to shove me aside so that you can play havoc with innocent people. You are not going mockery of my very existence: spit in the face of everything of yours that I’ve worked to overcome.’ Julian takes back control as easily as breathing, flexing the hand looking at his palm thoughtfully as he flexes the fingers.
‘That wasn’t very nice.’ He can feel the hopelessness, the frustration, and he shuts his eyes briefly.
    “You were there, doctor.” He whispers, the darkness of his mind stretching out before his shuttered vision. “You were there when I held the lot of them in thrall- when they worshipped me like a god. You were there when they-“
‘I was there when you brainwashed a bunch of high school children into-’
“Hush!” Julian shakes his head, snapping his eyes open. “I don’t need you anymore.” He runs fingers through his hair and looks at the screen again. Those long fingers twist as if they can pull the strands longer by force of will alone. But I can fix that soon enough. Soon enough I’ll have it all back. He needs his old body back. He’s grown soft, indolent, and far too prosaic for the man who one day thought he would be the next Khan Noonien Singh. No, better than that. Because I will succeed where-
   The beep of the monitor draws Julian’s attention back to the task at hand. The body temperature of the subject is dropping and the side effects are still far too severe. The percentage will have to be dropped to less than 2 percent in order to be satisfactory. Julian is taking far too great a chance as it stands. Salsbury’s original formula was far too unpolished for the subject in question; brilliant but sloppy. He ‘tsks’ and brings up another variation of the formula. Of course that impotent old tosser didn’t have to muck around with Cardassian physiology either. But that should pose little obstacle for my abilities.
‘Modest, aren’t we?’ Julian scowls, tempted to shove the doctor back into his dark little cell
‘I would think, doctor, that dinner the other night would have reminded you... No of course not. Not you- not bloody “Saint Jules”.’
‘Don’t call me that. That’s nothing but some twisted caricature you invented to feed your ego.’
‘And you are nothing but that caricature brought to life; a miserable waste of potential who is far too unworthy to be made into a real boy. But that is, after all, why I am back in control.’
   Julian brings up formulation 27-A using Stelazine this time. I should have a world by now, an empire. Not this ridiculous “frontier medicine” that he’s... The screen changes and he thinks as he watches the simulation that there isn’t a terribly great distance from biomolecular augmentation to a little neurological manipulation.
“So Cardassians cannot be hypnotized, Elim Garak? You would never fall for such petty human mental trickery?” Julian sharpens his focus as he watches the screen. He doesn’t have a lot of time before Nurse Jabara comes on shift. They’re all so terribly worried about him of course but he can ill afford to be inconvenienced by their petty feelings. “And the lot of you are all no different than any other of the unremarkable chattel I’ve been forced to rely on... Perhaps not Jadzia but that is one I don’t have time to… Focusss, Jules.” Julian speaks to himself softly as he administers 5mg to the mockup his face frozen in concentration as the colors begin to alter. “Salsbury, like Freud believed the subconscious was the dominant aspect of the mind. He believed the id and the ego could be subverted, believed it to the degree that he apparently made a miracle of modern science in a Federation science lab in the middle of nowhere and if a third rate career sycophant can do it…”
   Body temperature holding steady… brain activity receptive, synaptic processes successfully subverted… Julian can’t help but feel almost giddy as the heart rate and respiration remain stable. “And if a third rate career sycophant can do it- If, Dr. Julian Bashir, underachiever extraordinaire can match that much… Then I surely can take it to the next level entirely.”
‘And you can risk everything I’ve worked for so far for a wager that exists only in your own mind.’
“And why is that, doctor? That’s the question we should be asking ourselves. Why am I ‘risking everything’ as you so dramatically put it just to prove what I’m sure you’d term a ridiculous point?” He tilts his head to the side indulging in another old habit with a languid blink of his eyes. “Because Jules Bashir- our Six Million Dollar Man- is a far greater adversary than Mr. Garak gives him credit for. Because up until now out itinerant hero has only allowed you to see what he wishes for you to see and the gauntlet was thrown and now…” Julian watches the program finish with a wide grin splitting his face as the computer informs him of success. “Now it’s time to sharpen you up and make you ready for a bit of the old ultra-violence.”
   He hits enter with a small chuckle and begins the preparations for the synthesis. Yes, good old frontier medicine… where Dust is acquired as easily as dirt… and Ferengi bar owners don’t ask any unnecessary questions if you throw enough incentive their way. Julian triple checks the heat stability and tries to remember the temperature of Garak’s quarters. The chocolate might not melt but there’s no need to take any unnecessary chances. …Incentive and favors and an alibi should Odo ask questions when he returns with one Mr. Garak.
“So you want me to take that rod and eat it, do you? No, the only one of us who’ll be “eating it” as it were…” Julian checks the clock as he takes the takes the syringe now full of the clear liquid and begins injecting the dark chocolate truffles with care.
“But of course I’m no madman, Garak. Only a naive Federation doctor with genetically enhanced intellect and perhaps far too much time on his hands...” He sets the chocolate down careful to keep the dosages exact. “You shouldn’t have run off to join Tain’s pointless little war and left me here all by my lonesome.” He fills another with equal precision. “It’s so terribly… boring here without you…” Julian continues until he’s reached the last one- enough for a month’s supply and quickly disposes of the syringe and clears the history on the replicator. “But I think you’ll find-.” Leaving his gloves on, he carefully wraps each of the candies in the pretty gold foil making sure to hold to the original creases. “-that I’m far more than even you can handle.”
   This is the easy part of course. The music is where the real challenge lies. Salsbury had used images but that will never work. The auditory versus optical response from the brain will be far different but… Julian runs his fingers over the box top affectionately. But with muted Cardassian hearing it’s a far better gamble to mask the secondary subliminal layer with sound. And then there are Garak’s eyes… No, those eyes won’t miss a trick now, will they? He turns back to the monitor, quickly shutting down the simulations and letting the data catalogue and file in the Cathedral of his mind. Julian yawns as he glances at the clock just in time to make his exit before anyone realizes he was ever here. Hurry back, Garak. We need to pick up where we left off. He walks out feeling renewed energy, whistling “Secret Agent Man” as the doors close behind him.
***
“Harry Houdini, you are under arrest.” The name passed from Odo’s mouth without the barest trace of irony and Julian, sitting in Quark’s bar with one Elim Garak two weeks before the present, watched as the caped man was subsequently arrested for theft. This left standing in the center of the room a Bajoran woman still speaking in fluent Cardassian. The volunteer- who Julian was beginning to suspect was not in fact just a plant- had let the hypnotist know that she’d spent her childhood in a resettlement camp. She’d heard Cardassian spoken and even spoke some herself until she was eleven but couldn’t recall a word of that “spoonhead” language today even under threat of torture. Julian had watched with interest and noted that his dinner companion seemed less than impressed with the entire performance. The performer cum pickpocket was urged by Odo to bring the woman out of her trance before being led out unceremoniously out of Quarks.
“Never a dull moment, is there?” Julian smiled blandly, boringly, still testing the waters where Garak was concerned. Garak glanced back over Julian’s shoulder to where Quark was presumably protesting his innocence in the entire matter.
“There are certainly worse ways to spend an evening.” It was not quite the agreement he’d been seeking.
“I suppose when one compares it to say a drunken Cardassian hurling invectives at the patrons it is a touch dull.” Right then. The hell with this feeling out rot. Julian was already beginning to tire of the ridiculous doctor charade. He watched as Garak blinked at him momentarily silent at the remark. Julian looked at him with a silent challenge, just daring him to ask the same asinine question that everyone else had been inflicting upon him since the attack.
“It has been my observation, doctor, that humans find the most vulgar things to be absolutely fascinating.” Garak was unwavering as he met Julian’s stare projecting his usual air of benign superiority; he had no idea how the doctor suffered it without comment.
“Surely you’re not talking about the performance tonight as well,” Julian scoffed. Garak shrugged, giving that evasive look off to the side.
“It was a most… enlightening experience.”
“But?”
“Well I can’t speak for Federation scientists, but the role of what you call ‘hypnosis’ has very limited practical application in our society… perhaps it merely alludes to the weakness of the human mind.” Garak took a forkful of spaghetti carbonara as if parrying a fencing thrust and Julian watched him for a moment wondering how much affront to let show through.
   “This is quite good; you said it’s a dish not often eaten regularly on Earth?” Julian allowed himself to be diverted for the moment by Garak’s question.
“It’s rather indulgent for daily consumption… And don’t think I’m going to let you slide by with that.” He didn’t smile but he let the amusement intermingle with just a hint of defensiveness and his mind flashed the ratios of emotion like a chemical composition. Julian wondered at times if this was what it felt like to be an artificial life form. He considered his response, just for a moment. “Perhaps the lack of uses for what has been known for generations to be a useful took in behavioral therapy merely demonstrates a profound lack of cultural imagination.” Julian raised his teacup, taking a long drink so that Garak might make his next point.
“Imagination, contrary to what is popularly touted amongst less evolved cultures is highly subjective, my dear. I assure you, that you will find most Cardassians to have boundless imagination where it counts.” Garak smiled in a way that caught Julian off guard and caused him to nearly choke in his tea.
“Are you feeling alright, doctor?” It was the same question he’d anticipated earlier but hardly in the same context. Julian felt his face heat up- in fury where doubtless the doctor would have been embarrassed- and he nodded, forcing himself to stay calm.
“Too sweet.” Julian ignored Garak’s curious look at the statement. The doctor remarked smugly in his head that he’d bitten off more than he could handle. ‘Let me be the judge of that then.’
“You seem to have me at a disadvantage, Garak.” Julian offered glancing up briefly then dropping his eyes in a manner that he considered especially flirtatious. There was no rise to the bait but he didn’t expect it. He checked off another small test of the other’s carefully constructed persona; clearly the doctor wasn’t expected to engage in such gestures with other men. “After all, you do have the knowledge of a certain cloak and dagger lifestyle that the rest of us aren’t privy to.”
“More cloak than dagger, I assure you. I am but a simple tailor, after all.” There was the response as expected. Garak was a “simple” nothing as far as he was concerned but any other response would have been dreadfully off. Julian picked up his eating pace at about the time it would be expected and shook his head.
   Garak whether intentionally of not continued speaking rather boastfully that even a simple tailor would not be so neatly manipulated by simple human chicanery and Julian unconsciously paused in that way he couldn’t help when he had to consider a challenge. ‘Eat faster, Jules. You’re a human who has a biological imperative to feast when there’s no famine and the doctor has already foolishly set the precedent.’ The damn doctor had set up hundreds of the small affectations that he would have to maintain for the time being. It was nothing with his ability to quickly process through data and recall but the tedium… ‘It’s just another subroutine, right, Jules? It’s all in a day’s work for Dr. Julian Bashir version 2.0 beta…’ Well bollocks to that, he was about to go mad from it all.
   Julian ignored the doctor informing him that he was free to leave at any time if he didn’t find the accommodations suitable. He licked the last of the mashed potatoes from his spoon.
“You sound awfully sure of yourself,” he said with a final mouthing of his lips to the back of the smooth metal.
“Doctor,” Garak was back to bland condescension. “If a Vulcan cannot hope to pierce the veil of the Cardassian mind, I’m afraid there’s little hope for anyone else.” ‘And that includes me, Is that what I’m to gather from that?’ Julian considered his words. ‘Is that so, Garak?’ he thought feeling that heat rising once more.
‘Don’t...’
‘I wasn’t asking you now, was I?’ He caught Garak commenting on their races’ affinity for eating the eggs of other species for just a moment.
‘Whatever you’re thinking...’ Julian found his mind wandering once more.
‘Shut it! He wouldn’t say these things so arrogantly if he knew who he was...’
‘You don’t think so? Perhaps you don’t know Garak as well as you think you do.’ Julian’s hand was too still on the fork dipping into the chocolate cake and he forced motion cursing the doctor for his untimely interruption.
‘I’ll know him better than you ever managed, you can be assured of that.’
‘He’ll destroy you. Whatever you think you know-.‘ He was holding the fork too tight. He needed to correct it but that defiance, that mockery, that-
“Is that a challenge, Garak?” He shoved the doctor aside and gave tines of the fork a teasing swipe with his tongue. It was yet another reckless, unscripted affectation but he couldn’t be bothered to care anymore. Julian shifted his foot underneath him and almost breathed and audible sigh at the familiar feeling. “Need I remind you that I destroyed you rather neatly a few weeks ago?” He smiled drawing in that brilliant darkness and there might have been just another hint of surprise on Garak’s face but let him be surprised. Let him stand in awe and wonder. Julian leaned in letting the tines trail down the side of his face in place of idle hands as Garak too drew nearer. “I don’t think you’d find me that easy.” Quiet. Deadly. Everything they used to be afraid of.
   “You defeated the incarnation of me that your mind had devised but I assure you doctor in a real game you would not find yourself so victorious.” There was a smug raise of those eye ridges that made him boil, ready to stand up, throw the gauntlet down, and destroy everything just like he used to. Between his own anger and the doctor’s screaming in his damn head he almost gave in but Julian forced the calm back, thinking if the doctor’s experience was good for anything it was the calm that he could bring when he desperately needed it.
“You don’t think terribly much of me do you?” Julian made certain that the laugh was suitably light, suitably airy, suitably bloody Julian Bashir and he thoroughly ignored the pulse red behind his eyes willing it to go away as he laughed of the tension.
“I think you’re the very model of Federation light and goodness, doctor.” Julian was unable to tell if there was mockery there but it seemed to him as there might be a subtle mocking emphasis on the word “doctor”. “But in the real world, light does not always triumph over darkness.”
Julian looked at him soberly as the doctor laughed almost maddeningly inside his head.
“I couldn’t have said it better myself.”
***
   “I know it isn’t your birthday but I received a rather large souvenir today and I thought I’d share in the temptation.” Julian smiles as he takes his seat and sets the box of dark chocolate truffles between them.
“Ah, such mixed signals from you, Doctor. Exercise program in your left hand, sweets in your right. Are you trying to increase business to the infirmary?” He accepts the box nonetheless and sets it aside. He doesn’t miss Julian’s eyes following the box for a fraction of a second longer than they ought to and adds it to the doctor’s growing list of oddities.
“I assure you, Garak, if the results of your last physical are anything to go by you won’t be requiring my services again for a good long while. You’re in remarkable shape for a…”
   He resettles himself on the chair lifting his eyes up in a manner that Garak imagines must set most women’s hearts aflutter. It piques Garak’s curiosity to see that look aimed at him. So then I wasn’t imagining it weeks ago, was I? And yet he considers the box in a far more devious context that the flirtatious subtext would call for. And here I didn’t think you had that sort of duplicity in you. But it’s just a tad too sudden, doctor. “…tailor.” Julian says the word with seemingly every bit of amusement he can muster.
“A product of simple living more than my chosen profession,” comes the easy parry.
“A profession still up for debate I’d say... Perhaps I ought to hypnotize the truth out of you.” Julian teases him with a mystical wiggle of his fingers. Garak’s eyes flicker between the digits and the Idanian spice pudding in front of him cataloguing the gesture as he answers with nothing but a small amused smile.
   “But actually,” Julian is rather pleased with himself and allows a similar expression to appear on his own face. “I’d taken the time to enjoy your present this past weekend.” He watches those eye ridges raise in surprise and makes a subtle return gesture in kind.
‘He probably thinks you’re lying.’
‘Oh but the good doctor would never lie about such a thing, would he?’
“I’m afraid I was rather distracted by the...” He pauses as if fishing for a word waiting, slowly counting down to emphasize exactly where he needs the conversation to go. “Well, the soundtrack for lack of a better word.” He drinks his tea and lets Garak consider. Lead into the mirror slowly. And then guide him like a poor blind child...
“Soundtrack, doctor?”
“The music I mean. I don’t think I’ve ever been in a holonovel that makes such use of well... in a film we’d say a soundtrack. But it wasn’t an orchestral suite or just ambiance like a lot of programs run but I could feel it.” He leans in intently for emphasis waiting to see if Garak will mirror him.
   Julian isn’t disappointed as Garak leans in just the slightest amount and as he explains the vibrato and bass calibrated to create an almost second heartbeat during scenes of heightened intensity. Julian sits back and takes care to once more eat with his own usual starving animal’s pace and slowly, ever so slowly shifts his posture when he asks about Cardassian music on the whole. He subtly picks up his tea at the same time that Garak does the glass of rokassa juice.
“Really, doctor,” Garak says setting his drink down and Julian’s eyes catch the subtle preemptive movements of muscle which allow for a near seamless mirror this time. “There is no amount of description which would do Cardassian music true justice.” Julian nods, looks off at the other patrons briefly as if considering the words. Go on then. Make the proposal already. Julian’s body language betrays no impatience even as he does mental paces inside of his head. He can almost feel the god forsaken doctor laughing at him.
   Garak takes that moment to study him almost delighted at the turn lunch is taking. You want something, doctor. It’s so plain on your face, so plain with your little human tricks. You want it so badly you’re actually tempting me to give it to you. Garak has a hunch of course- he wasn’t lying when he told Julian the reverence Cardassians held for experience.
“I can’t say that I’ve ever really heard any sort of Cardassian music before. To hear Major Kira tell the lot of you entertain yourselves with the screams of dying Bajorans.” Another small head tilt as Garak listens amused- another perfect mirror.
“A worthy symphony to be sure, but far from the best that the greatest Cardassian composers have to offer.”
“Is that a fact?” It’s painfully obvious, of course. But the clear fact that he’s trying to manipulate Garak into initiating the proposal all the more curious. And Tain always said your curiosity would lead to no good end in our profession. But Tain is no longer here and Garak has precious little left to anchor him save his memories.
“It seems almost a shame,” Garak says at last with a sense of self gratifying theatric, “that during our entire acquaintance we’ve never had an opportunity for a greater cultural exchange than literature.” He sits back thoughtfully and watches Julian do the same. I wonder if I dropped my fork, doctor, would you ape that as well? More than that gesture however is the unconscious ghost of a smile there reinforcing the good behavior. My what naughty little tricks you have, my dear.
   It’s almost a disappointment that you aren’t proving to be more of a challenge, Mr. Garak. Julian reminds himself not to remain too still when Garak plays perfectly into his cues. But nether can he draw his leg up to his chest and indulge unabashedly and he curses the doctor’s insufferably staid body language.
“I’m surprised you’d miss an opportunity to lord superior Cardassian culture over my head,” he murmurs only just barely aborting the hand raising to toy with his hair.
“I do have my more charitable moments, doctor. But perhaps my equanimity has been a disservice to you after all and for that, I shall see to your further education.” He considers what to offer Julian and in turn observes at the very least a feigned contemplation from the doctor as well. Well played. But he waits and takes another spoonful of pudding trusting his hunch that Julian must have a particular motivation and finds his answer soon enough.
   “I’m sure you’ve heard a lot of the earth music played around the station since the Federation took control of the station.” Julian looks almost wicked cradling the tea cup with both hands having dropped the mimicry entirely. “But I’m equally certain you’ve never heard the more shall we say... subversive music that we consider not particularly palatable for foreign ears.” Or human ears as well if our mother is anything to go by... My mother... the doctor’s mother... the damn woman is somebody’s bloody mother. He notes Garak’s interest and lets a few careful drops of genuine excitement filter in. “A lot of the electronic popular music has been carefully marketed and tested to produce the most pleasing and relaxing sound. Music executives spend God only knows how much money into those sorts of things. For a time it was almost impossible for say a good old fashioned garage band to make any real money. But even at the height of synthetic and electronic movement, there have always been those continuing the true sound of metal, of industrial, real hard rock.” He remembers the few live concerts he’d attended on Earth. Overlay the true emotions with the false ones, Jules. You want to make it good for him now, don’t you?
   “Well, anyway, I guess what I’m saying is that I have a few recordings that predate a lot of the current earth compositions and really are what I would consider the foundation of a lot of modern music.” Hint of truth. “As long as you aren’t afraid of any back masking.” He says it joking and confirms to himself that Garak doesn’t register any recognition of the term.
“Back masking, doctor?” Garak asks with an appropriate amount of interest taking another slow spoonful of pudding.
“It’s quite fascinating, really. In the 20th century the earliest media were recorded on vinyl records- flat discs made of polvinyl chloride pressed with a spiral modulated groove to reproduce audio. A needle would then run along the groove transmitting the sound to an amplifier. Not very practical but...” He shrugs. “But it allowed for- as some accused- a hidden message to be encoded onto the media which would be revealed if the recording were to be played backwards. There are also some amongst that same group who even believed those messages could compel the listener to all sorts of degenerate behaviors.” Another sip of tea as that digests.
   “You seem quite enthusiastic about the subject.” Garak makes the remark as almost an afterthought as he takes another languid spoonful. Julian does not allow himself to go still or to fidget. He plays the next move very carefully and feels the possibilities fed through his mind rapidly discarded in quick succession. The entire process take no longer than a nanosecond. Subject change. Divulge personal information of an anecdotal nature. The cue puts him back into focus and he can feel the calm settle back over him. Of course. Subtle segue it is.
“Well it’s an intriguing proposal, don’t you think?” But that’s a rhetorical question and he doesn’t allow Garak to answer before regarding the chocolates as if they were the most important thing in the room. Be composed- distant, the face of one reminiscing. “When I was a child living on Inverna II my father gave me a box of Swiss chocolates that a colleague had procured for him.” Though considering the sorts of men who the old man tended to keep on friendly terms with the bugger probably stole it off the back of a freighter somewhere. “On Earth, Switzerland is rather renowned for its chocolate. So much so in fact,” -eye contact, rueful smile- “that my parents would only let me eat one piece of chocolate every Friday night as a treat. I suppose they thought that might make me appreciate things. Savor them if you will.” He regards his already eaten sandwich in perfect conclusion. “You see how well that worked out.”
   Garak allows himself to be distracted but he makes another note of Julian’s behavior. He wonders if the good doctor has always been so calculating. He has always been in Garak’s mind a far more suspicious character than Garak would ever consider himself just by his very nature- too neat and pat in a little naive young doctor package. But today he’s just a little too perfect. He’s too… in character as some might even say. Garak smiles from behind a glass.
“Is that how I should eat these then?” he asks noting the small symbol stamped on the corner of the box. There comes that flicker again. That same look of a subject right before he perfects his lie at the eye of the interrogation and believes he’s won. Garak waits for confirmation and it comes exactly as expected.
   “If you don’t find the notion too silly.” Julian ducks his head with just the right amount of self deprecation and just in time to hide the self congratulatory smugness that’s quick enough anyone else would think it was all imagination. Charming I’m sure, but I’m not one of your conquests doctor. Although you seem to be acting as if you believe you have in fact conquered something. Garak makes sure to give a conciliatory smile as he agrees to the idea and the doctor does well to hide his excitement as he asks if he may sample the first now. Well it isn’t likely to be poisoned in any case. If Julian had assassination as his goal as the chief medical officer on board he’d hardly have to resort to poisoning a box of chocolates to rid himself of one Cardassian tailor. That automatic suspicion discarded he decides to merely follow along with the game and lets the confection melt on his tongue.
   The lettering on the box is alien to him and he lets the doctor’s voice of soft explanation wash over him as he savors the small round piece. The chocolate is slow to melt but when it does it creates a thick coating of delicate bitterness with a hint of fruity sweetness: cherry, is he recalls his human fruits correctly. He lets the chocolate roll over his tongue, considers the viscosity and he thinks perhaps Julian is more culturally astute than he gave him credit for to find something the Cardassian would enjoy so greatly. He shuts his eyes, feels almost disoriented and will let himself deconstruct the layering of memories later for the doctor’s talk of composition, origin, and a thousand other things he’s sure he’ll find fascinating in the quiet of his own quarters. Because the shell has almost completely melted and a sweeter, creamier inside marries the fading bitterness and Garak wonders if Julian was telling him the truth or if he’d spent what seems to be a tidy sum of money to procure a delicacy of this quality. He can almost forget, he can almost let his guard down and linger in that moment as the chocolate slides down his throat.
   Until the moment it hits him that is. And this, dear doctor, is why I never trust anyone, no matter the circumstances, no matter how charming their boyish smile or how many morally superior Federation speeches they may give. But far from disappointed, Julian only rises in his estimation when he feels the almost undetectable chemical residue on the back of his throat. It has an faint numbing quality nearly perfectly masked by the richness of the filling and complexity of the outer chocolate shell and it passes almost as quickly as he identifies it. He already knows he’ll have to invest time and possibly resources into studying it but as he opens his eyes, the infernal brightness of the room impinging upon his senses like an unpleasant second sun, he finds that thought can wait just a moment longer. He shakes his head- even slightly disoriented he never allows himself to falter- and he simply smiles at Julian.
“Well, doctor, I can see why one should only eat one of these a day.”
   Julian allows for a self satisfied expression. It remains in character and he laughs. He likes that particular laugh. It affects just the right amount of warmth- amusement without being cruel- and a little but of truth for good measure.
“I was afraid I might have to put my medical training to some use if you hadn’t opened your eyes when you had, Garak.” He raises a suggestive eyebrow. “Perhaps tomorrow you might eat one in the privacy of your own quarters where you’ll be able to savor it properly.” And perhaps in the not too distant future you might allow me to join you without the aid of several bottles of kanar. Of course he will. He won’t have a choice, after all. Isn’t that right, doctor? There is silence, of course. The stupid simple doctor lacks the imagination to pursue such a richly dark liaison. Garak raises his glass as if in toast giving him the same placid smile he has time and time again. Enjoy it while it lasts, Garak.
“Perhaps I shall.” Check.
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