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Occupation of the Mind	By : Jack-O-Lantern Category: Star Trek > Deep Space 9 Views: 666 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek: DS9, nor the characters from it (save for the OC I created within the bounds of the established universe). I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter Three
“I hear some of my crew were giving you trouble,” Dukat said as he poured a drink. We were in my quarters again. “I’d like to apologize on their behalf.”
“No, I’m sorry, it’s fine. I didn’t say anything, honest. I told Quark not to worry about it—”
“No, no, he did the right thing. That’s not very becoming behavior for a Cardassian military member. And if I know you, it was entirely undeserved.” He handed me a drink.
“Thank you…” I murmured. He nodded and sat near me. I dearly hoped he wasn’t angry. I hoped he didn’t blame me for his men being reprimanded.
“You’re not hurt are you?”
“No, sir.”
“Tell me what they said.” I rubbed my fingers over the glass.
“At first he accused me of being stuck up… He said if things were how they used to be he’d make me sorry. Then told me to…” I didn’t care to repeat what he said, but that’s what Dukat wanted to hear. Details. “…get my wrinkled nose out of his sight. And called me a pathetic insect.” Dukat raised his brows. I stared down at my lap now that I had spoken those things aloud.
“Well that is rather rude isn’t it?” he sighed. “Once again, I apologize for their behavior,” he said. “I’m afraid some of my men are uncultured and stubborn.”
“It’s fine, really.” He smiled down at the ground, then patted my knee.
“You’re a good man. Personable…and patient.” He brushed my hair away from my ear. I hated to have that ear uncovered, but he was almost insistent on revealing it. “But speaking of your nose,” he looped an arm around the back of the couch. “I find it endearing,” he brushed a fingertip down the ridges and smiled. “I daresay it’s my favorite Bajoran feature.” I didn’t know what to say. I smiled back, then shook my head and looked away, tapping my fingers against the glass.
He leaned back again, smile waning. “Are you happy here?”
“I don’t know.” It was one of the few honest things I’ve said to him.
“You haven’t made any friends, have you?”
“No. Not besides…” I trailed off second-guessing my judgment.
“Who?”
“I don’t know if it’s right to say we’re friends…but Quark is nice to me. I appreciate that.”
“That’s good to hear… I’m glad you’re not completely alone, though I would advise you to be wary of him. You know how they can be. The moment your interests conflict, you’ll find that he won’t have your back anymore.”
“That’s fine,” I murmured. “I don’t expect anyone to do anything for me… I just appreciate it when they do.”
“I’ve always taken care of you, haven’t I? Even when it wasn’t easy. Have I ever abandoned you?” My nose burned as tears began to form. Yes. He did.
On that joyous day when they pulled out and the hush of freedom and terrifying uncertainty swept the dirty, belabored prisoners. He’d abandoned me then to the lonely, directionless independence I had for so long dreamed of. He’d left me with nowhere to go, nowhere to turn to, no idea what to do next. He’d left me with this complicated, indecipherable mix of emotions that tore at me endlessly.
“No…” I murmured towards the ground.
“No?” he tilted his head, questioning my downtrodden tone. I smiled for him and shook my head.
“No. Not while you were here.”
“Ah,” he nodded, tapped his fingers against knee. “I didn’t want to leave, you know. I opposed the withdrawal. But I had my orders. I’m sorry I had to leave you.” He touched my chin.
“It’s fine.” I almost turned away, but I remembered my place and stayed still for him.
“No…it’s not…” I couldn’t meet his eyes as he inspected me. “I intend to make it up to you somehow…” He refilled our drinks and lifted his. “A toast. To better times.” He clinked our glasses together. I sipped.
A toast. To my continued imprisonment.
After an evening of drinking and gently coerced affections, and a night of unwanted warmth and insomnia, thinking of times past as his broad chest rose and fell against my cheek, my visitor left. Before even the shop-keeps rose to prepare for opening he was up, donning his armor. He clasped my hands in his and kissed the bridge of my nose the way my mother used to when I was a child and bid me farewell.
With him finally gone, I fell into a light, fitful sleep.
-*-
The shops were opening as I ran through the dimly-lit Promenade and skirted into Quark’s. He cast me an exasperated look and waved me over.
“You were almost late,” he chided.
“I know, I know I’m sorry!” He waved me away.
“Don’t be sorry, be hospitable. Fix your hair and get to work.” I disappeared into the back to right myself, exhausted and shaky.
I felt unfit to touch anything. I felt I’d been diseased. I’d done something bad. I didn’t have a right to be around anyone. I felt like if I got too close they’d be able to tell how disgusting I was. They’d be able to smell him on me. I felt…it was an insult to what Quark did for me yesterday. He stood up for me, and then I… How could I? If he knew, he’d toss me right into their laps. It’s what I deserve.
I touched the bridge of my nose. Of all people, why was he the one to say that?
“Your nose looks fine. Quit daydreaming,” Quark huffed as he paced around the bar. I started and watched after him before I did as he asked.
-*-
Julian was brought into Quark’s by the lively music. He entered the throng of people talking and drinking to watch the music and dance act. A sly fellow caught his eye and he grinned, sliding over his way. Garak met his gaze as he closed in.
“Garak?” he clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Enjoying a bit of entertainment are we?”
“Yes. I do like to get out from time to time.”
“It certainly does the body good.”
“And the mind,” Garak added, watching Tamir as he cheerfully snaked through the crowd with tray balanced on fingertips.
“Quite right,” Julian tipped his head. Tamir turned towards the two, tucking the tray under his arm, gaze flicking up as he moved towards the bar. He paused when he saw Garak’s eyes trained on him. Shock washed over his face for a moment before a smile took its place. He raised his hand in a wave before approaching.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Garak, Dr. Bashir. How are you?”
“Very well, how about yourself,” Garak answered. Tamir smiled brightly, brows upturned as his fingers squeezed around the lip of the tray.
“I’m well, thank you. Is there anything I can get you two?”
“I suppose some Rokassa juice would be nice.”
“Nothing for me,” Julian pulled a cordial smile.
“Alright, I’ll be right back with your Rokassa juice,” he promised brightly.
The two watched him return to the bar.
“Well he seems to be in better spirits,” Julian said.
“You think so?”
“Well…y-yes?” Julian stammered.
“I see,” Garak sighed, glancing off towards the bar.
“You don’t agree.”
“I’m afraid I don’t. In fact he seems more preoccupied than before. You see the way he fidgets and keeps his head down when he’s not serving? He touches his hair a lot and pulls at his sleeves.”
“Oh…”
“Our dear Gul Dukat was scheduled to leave this morning. I happened to notice he paid him another visit yesterday.”
“Then shouldn’t he be happy? Relieved?”
“Yes, so the question is: why isn’t he? What could be so heavy in his thoughts to overcome what should be a happy occasion?”
“What if it doesn’t have anything to do with Gul Dukat? What if it’s some other personal matter? Something with his family or…”
“Mm. While I disagree that it doesn’t have anything to do with Dukat, I admit there is probably plenty to weigh him down.”
“Such as?”
“For example, his family didn’t survive the occupation.”
-*-
I was relieved when Dukat left. I wanted to say that anyway. But I was having doubts. I didn’t feel any better in the wake of his absence. My worries seemed to grow only deeper and I felt taken by confusion. Dukat. The Cardassians. They were supposed to be over. But while I was still floundering around finding a way to move on, they returned to keep the wounds fresh. And of course, Dukat’s personal contact with me drove the knife deeper still. I couldn’t even begin to hope to heal with their presence. Would they keep coming back? Would Dukat keep reaching out to me? What would I do if he came back again? But why would he?
Yes.
‘Why?’
Why seek me out again? Why more than the brief ‘hello’? Why did he purchase these clothes for me? Things I didn’t need nor deserve. I promised him I had the money, but still he insisted. What game was he playing? He can’t claim to feel responsible for me anymore. I’m not under their domain. There is nothing to protect me from. What use could he still see in this worthless, orphaned Bajoran? I had wondered during the occupation about his choosing me, but now without those constraints, I had even more question.
I touched the grey sleeves. It felt wrong to wear those clothes. But it seemed a waste not to… When I put them on, I felt uncomfortable. Though he wasn’t there, I felt his grip on me. As if his hands were squeezing my shoulders as he appraised my obedience with pride.
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Occupation of the Mind