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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
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Note: Moving along into more heavy Garak/Bashir and more mind fuckery still. I was expecting to be updating quite so soon but I'm not complaining! Thank you everyone for your support. C&C is always welcome.
3
   “And that, darling, is how I’m going to set the world on fire.” Julian ended the program and leaned back against the table watching the woman who still seemed to be in a complete state of awe as the screen faded to black.
“And to think I didn’t even remember your name,” Dr. Elizabeth Lense answered at last breathlessly. She turned as Julian came up behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Do you see it now, Liz?” His voice was a hush but it was still full of passion- full of barely restrained zeal. “Do you see why I wanted so terribly to show you? Why I wanted you to join me?” Dr. Lense shook her head as if trying to convince herself that what they were discussing could not possibly come to fruition.
“There’s no way… There’s no possible way Starfleet will ever-“
   “Starfleet?!” He stepped back with an incredulous laugh running fingers through his hair. “You and I are standing on the verge of the next phase of humanoid evolution and you’re bleating at me about Starfleet?!” Julian slammed a hand on the console making her jump as he gave another sharp mocking bark of laughter. “Bugger Starfleet! Bugger the whole damn Federation!” Julian squared his shoulders, voice quieter but just as hard. “You know what they’ll do with this? They’ll bury it. They’ll wag a finger and tell us to be on our way and maybe they’ll overlook this indiscretion and if we’re good if we’re so terribly repentant for daring to go where no man has dared before as the saying goes we’ll be allowed to continue our careers bowing and scraping to the same dated dogma.”
Julian’s jaw is tight and he flexes his hand, squeeze, release, breathes, bows his head and sighs deeply, catching her reaction- her shock- out of the corner of his eye. He speaks softer, more insidiously, with an introspective turn.
“The Federation, will stand there and regurgitate Khan Noonien Singh and the Eugenics Wars until you and I are dead and buried Liz. The Federation will stick doggedly to their ideals whether right or wrong for fear of those they cannot control- whose thinking is too off kilter with their own. They will beat individuality into the ground and they will stamp out with a self-righteous sweep of their arm your dreams, my dreams, our dreams of a better universe.”
He looked up earnestly. “Khan is dead. He isn’t coming back and yet here his ghost sits in the room with us. I want to be better than that. I want to be better than my ancestors. I want all of us to be better. I want to live I want to create I want to be a doctor.” Dr. Lense looked at him and back to the screen again as if there might be a remnant of an answer remaining.
“What you’re saying, Julian is-”
“Jules,” he corrected with a smile that wasn’t entirely pleasant. “I haven’t been Julian in some time now.” She shook her head refusing to divert her focus but he could see her wavering.
“I’m not even sure what you want from me. What do you think I can even contribute to your work? My work is in immunology and even then... You’ve brought to life things that I could never even imagine… concepts that most of Starfleet Medical would call light years ahead of even the most cutting edge of biomolecular research.”
   “Yes, and I didn’t even win a Carrington, did I?” Julian murmured where she couldn’t hear. Dr. Lense took a hesitant step towards the door.
“I need time. I need to think about this there’s just so much to consider.” Julian stepped forward taking her hand between his making sure to catch her eyes intently.
“I need you, Elizabeth. You weren’t first in our class for nothing. I need your brilliance, your skill. I know you can’t be happy wasting away on that charting expedition in the middle of nowhere with nothing to look forward to but algae. Please.” He squeezed her hands. “Just give me the time that you’re here, that’s all I ask.” He coaxed her even closer to him and dropped his tone even softer still. “You and I are going to change history, Liz. I’m sure of it.”
   “You should’ve seen the look on your face when she didn’t recognize you!” Miles is loud in his ear and Julian doesn’t understand why he so easily suffers the man’s company. He makes a study of his fingernails as a distraction not ashamed to note they’re far more smooth and polished than they’d been before the... He wonders if he shouldn’t stop thinking of that incident. Mmm one doesn’t tend to remember birth but then again it isn’t every day that one rises from the dead... so to speak. Julian yawns and laughs softly. Yes the look on his face when the good Doctor Lense hadn’t recognized him was likely murderous but he’s more than made up for that. Made up for it and then some you silly arse...
“Oh I think I cleared that up rather nicely later.” He speaks with an awareness of the dig that he doesn’t usually possess but it passes by the drunken Miles sitting next to him in front of the couch. Miles laughs boisterously again, red faced as he slings an arm around Julian unwarranted. Julian doesn’t understand why he doesn’t immediately tense.
   I don’t like you. You’re nothing to me. You’re his bloody friend and... And he’s the doctor’s friend. He’s Julian’s friend so of course Julian should like him. That shouldn’t make sense. That shouldn’t make sense Jules but you’re prob’ly too fucking pissed to figure it out properly.
“Yeah yer a right Casanova you are,” Miles agrees sarcastically. That arm still hasn’t left him and he forces himself not to stare at him. Julian doesn’t have friends. Julian has goals, ambitions, people that he perhaps requires as long as they’re useful but he doesn’t have friends. Right, goals, goals, Jules. You’re forgetting yourself just ‘cause you’ve had a few pints. He shakes his head. They never really like you anyway.
“You jealous?” Julian turns and tweaks his nose followed by a soft silly titter of laughter at the look that follows. It’s not dignified or contrived or anything it ought to be. God, what can’t you just focus?
“I’ll have you know...” Miles seems to forget his thought completely disregarding the uncharacteristic behavior. “In my day-“
“When dinosaurs roamed the earth,” Julian interjects with another half hiccuping giggle throwing dignity out the damn window.
“In my day I didn’t have no problem with the ladies either, doctor.”
   And that makes Julian tense with anger. Don’t call me that. Don’t you ever fucking call me that I’m not him I’m-
“I’m not...” He’s clutching the pint too hard and lets up quickly. Dimly Julian notices that he’s not wearing his uniform. He doesn’t know why he seems to be aware of that fact all of a sudden. Julian never wears the damn thing when he’s not on duty anymore. His fingers trace the visible chains on display in the low cut white V reassuring himself that no, he’s himself, he’s Jules, he’s not the damn doctor. Miles had even teased you about looking like a bloody poet for god’s sake of course he can see you’re not… the same. Miles, taking another long drink seems entirely unaware of Julian’s annoyance as he talks to the ale.
“Fella grows a fancy beard, think he’s god’s gift,” comes the not unfriendly mutter into the pint. The words make Julian blink his eyes and feel in that half drunken stupor an odd sort of melding clarity completely unlike the rush he felt a few weeks ago when he put Garak under in the shop
   See, you’re coming together just fine. They’re all accepting it, they’re all adjusting, and soon he’ll be nothing but a dream in the eyes of the world… have to write that one down… yeah… s’all you, Jules.. Julian takes another drink feeling the alcohol warming him up even more as he sinks back further against the couch looking up at the ceiling.
“Eh, that’s it,” Miles says brilliantly sitting up, almost lurching forward onto the floor. He interrupts Julian’s thoughts suddenly looking at him with a grin. Julian feels his head spin as he sits up too fast. “I ought to grow a beard.” Miles rubs his chin thoughtfully and it almost appears as if there’s two of him. “Think Keiko would like it?” Julian touches his own face in mirror absently not certain why the superior processing ability of his brain seems to be failing him so thoroughly.
Why is this here? He contemplates the carefully manicured and patterned facial hair the thoughts flying out of nowhere. No matter what you do you can’t go back to being what you were… why would you want to? They all secretly hated you. They only followed you in the end because they were afraid of you. I… I don’t want…. I don’t want any of that. I want it to go away. I want the door to shut again and I don’t want to like feeling so…Julian takes another drink wondering if he can possibly drown out all the conflicting thoughts in his head. Miles asked him a question, hadn’t he? Right, answer him already before he starts thinking you’ve gone mad.
“Oh I’m sure- if not Quark can take bets on who wins that argument can’t he?”
Julian laughs softly and finds it growing almost obscenely in direct proportion to Miles’ huffiness the longer it drags out. Well bollocks, if he can’t be his imperfect self around Miles then- There’s nothing imperfect about you, Jules and you’re not having these thoughts. “Rooting for you the whole time, Chief I swear.” He giggles again- a very un-doctor-like giggle he’s proud to say- and rests a head on his shoulder. He sticks a finger to the corner of Mile’s mouth pushing it up with another laugh. “Now you just turn that frown... upside down, right?” He has no idea why that’s so funny but it seems like the crooked expression as his hand is swatted away is the funniest damn thing he’s ever seen.
   “Are you wearing makeup?” Miles asks him after another one of those terribly endearing squinty eyed expressions. Julian draws himself up with an exaggerated flutter of his eyelashes highlighting rather brilliantly he thinks, the dark eyeliner that only took him two attempts to recall with his old perfection.
“And what if I am?” he challenges. Miles looks confused but with drunken good humor claps him on the back after mulling it over.
“Just don’t tell me yer wearin’ garters an’ a girdle and I won’t go askin’, mate.” Julian almost deflates with more laughter as Miles declares loudly, “If a man wants to pretty himself up after a long day of poking around alien bollocks all day who am I to judge?”
Just like that the matter is settled, Julian mystified to his own sense of relief.
“Here here!” he raises the pint with a little more deliberate loss of coordination. Julian tugs at the low collar feeling warm and flushed and wonders if Terok Nor isn’t playing free and easy with the temperature controls.
“Here’s to alien bollocks!”
“To physicians ‘n fishnets,” Julian adds with a noisy clank taking another long drink enjoying that warmth coursing down his throat. There’s a small splash, the ale hitting skin with a tickling trickle. Julian really ought to mind that more but doesn’t let himself care that he’s likely stained the shirt, gotten himself sticky and made a thorough mess of himself. Yes, Jules, you’re settling in quite nicely with the lot of them now. It’s a shame to leave it all behind but this is the good of humanity… the good of… of something or other…
   Julian watches Miles drink with equal lack of coordination. He watches the sloppy motion and the hand slip just enough to start one wrong swallow and a fit of raucous coughing. Julian smiles as it dawns on him in a flash of his usual brilliance. That’s it... you’re such a good friend I should take you with me. You, Keiko, Molly, little whatsisname... I’ll make the lot of you just as perfect as you possibly can be… The first of many and I can
“Are you alright?” Julian asks when Miles stops coughing and starts to catch his breath. He hears a wheezing to the affirmative and sighs. “We’re going to be a sad state of affairs tomorrow, aren’t we?” He feigns amusement and Miles waves him off.
“S’nothing a coffee won’t fix.” Julian looks back and forth with conspiratorial drama before he leans in.
“Got a bit of a hangover cure side project I’ve been working on in the infirmary if you trust me enough to be my guinea pig, that is.”
“Business that slow eh?”
“Busier than ever actually… but if you haven’t got the stones...”
   “Oh is that how we’re gonna play it?” Miles straightens up indignantly rising to the bait. “Well fine fine, I’ll drink anything you throw at me Mr. Bigshot Medical Officer.”
“Now don’t think I won’t be joining you this this little experiment, Chief. Can’t let you have all the fun now can I?”
“An’ the money,” Miles says with a solemn nod.
“Beg pardon?”
“Well if it works… and that’s a mighty big if even for you… but if it works I’d say you’re gonna be a hell of a rich man, Jules.” Julian stops dead, holding the pint with both hands almost afraid to look at him.
“What... did you call me?” He couldn’t possibly know. There’s no way he could-
“Oh right... s’one of Leeta’s little per names I take it? No need to get yer skirts in a twist I can-“
“No!” The loudness of his voice startles even him and he clears his throat looking away. “No I’d rather like it if you er... used that name too...” Julian trails off into awkward silence that doesn’t last long.
“Yeah well, fix my head t’morrow and I’ll call you the bloody Queen of England.” Miles takes another drink before asking if Julian knows “All for Me Grog” and Julian almost feels like he understands the doctor’s unfortunate sense of belonging here. He smiles and raises his pint already doing the calculations, the figures for raising all the money he’ll need from his… “hangover cure” as the two of them burst into another song. Julian sings with renewed enthusiasm. Well, Chief, you’re proving useful to me already.
   Julian stands outside the door to Garak’s quarters toying with the silver ring on his right ring finger. The brilliant blue synthetic sapphire came out of the replicator perfectly; it isn’t the color that he’s admiring.
“They call it a poison ring, Garak,” he whispers as if the Cardassian were standing right in front of him. “Though I wouldn’t expect you to know that as averse as you are to such things...” But it isn’t poison inside the ring; it’s more of our mutual acquaintance. The drug has run its course after all and while his existing suggestions should still be in effect he lacks the means to… make adjustments. And there’s enough in there to drop an Algorian mammoth just like the shite he doped himself up on when his implant failed. Enough to keep him good and complacent for a while and lord knows that didn’t kill him so this shouldn’t be anything to be concerned with...
He’s run the scenario numerous times in the simulations and he doesn’t understand why he’s still worried. Man up already, you’ve accounted for any untimely side effects, doctored the necessary records to account for most adverse reactions as the resultants of other stimulants and… And he cannot deny- much as he would like- the anxiety that isn’t borne out of details. The doctor is worried and it’s making him worried. But the doctor is gone. He has to be gone. I haven’t heard him in at least a week, haven’t felt him haven’t… Haven’t what, Jules? Haven’t been acting unlike yourself? Julian frowns and wonders if this might not be better plotted at another time. He looks down at the bottle of kanar in that same hand and considers he’ll have at least another month or two before everything is ready even with the issue of funding well in hand.
Julian shakes his head. You’re probably still half hungover from the other night or still feeling the effects from whatever Miles had given you. No, not “Miles”. He isn’t that close to the chief engineer that’s another affectation from the doctor. Julian tucks his hair behind an ear and takes a deep breath. You’re too close Jules. He’s nothing more than another experiment- another cog in the machine and there’s no reason to keep him close aside from usefulness and potential. You’ve come too far to bollocks this up and you need to be sure when the time is right that Garak can be carefully contained. Better to have him on our side than not and he doesn’t seem half as susceptible to grand ideas and seduction the way the rest of these fools are.
Julian pastes on his most solicitous expression, his most perfect doctor face before deciding that the way he’s dressed there’s little bloody point in pretending. They’ve all had plenty of time to adjust, to acclimate, to accept him and the few little hitches in that will be worn away with the imperfections of memory soon enough. Julian licks his lips tasting the faint waxiness of the gloss. He’s sure they’ve all noticed but Commander Sisko’s magical mystery flight has diverted most of their attention to far loftier things than dear old Dr. Bashir’s newfound fashion oddities. It’s none of their damn business what I wear off duty anyway. If I want to strut around the Promenade in heels and a cocktail dress the lot of them can fob off. The COM badge is pinned to the high necked sleeveless shirt and as far as he’s concerned that’s all they’re getting out of him. He waits, Garak calling from inside that he’ll be there in a moment and in a whimsical gesture he hides the bottle behind his back making sure he’s giving his most devastating smile. This is a mission, after all.
   The door opens and Garak is there far closer than he was expecting. There’s an odd jumping sensation in his stomach like he’s never felt before. Julian doesn’t get nervous like that. He shrugs it off. It’s been what… over a decade since you’ve been back in the world, Jules? Now pay attention and do what you do best, luv.
“Well, doctor, I must say, this is a pleasant surprise. Assuming of course that you are in fact this world’s Doctor Bashir.” Julian smirks at the audacity of the comment and takes a step inside uninvited just daring Garak to stop him.
“And what would you do if I wasn’t?” he asks with a challenging expression. “Hem my trousers too short?”
“You laugh doctor, but I can assure you the residents of the station would never let your dignity recover from such an egregious wardrobe malfunction. They’re very...” The door shuts behind them and Julian sees just the slightest shadow pass over Garak’s features. “...fashion conscious.”
“Well I hate to disappoint you, Garak but it’s just me. Plain, simple, Julian.”
He lets Garak look him over- “plain, simple, Julian”, that is. He isn’t so plain and simple tonight however deciding to wear something designed to distract. He doesn’t have a tailor’s keen ability but he does have a replicator and a lifetime’s worth of memories- of carefully vaulted clothing parameters that still more or less fit. The dark blue shirt is tight across the chest and stomach but it was never meant to hang and if one can see the dip in the navel they won’t see the ring dripping pretty clear liquid into a glass of kanar. The black pants hang low on his hips and fit like a second skin by the grace of God and his new exercise regimen. The boots fit perfectly- his feet haven’t grown so much as a centimeter since he wore them in school thank God- and he can feel the eyes on him as he turns, keeping both hands neatly behind his back holding the bottle. Julian looks down, then up, taking stock of Garak’s signature fashion sense in the dark red tunic and pants.
“Plain, simple, Julian, is it?” Garak murmurs as he returns the expression finally settling on Julian’s face, not quite meeting his eyes but rather studying the eyeliner with slightly parted lips that unexpectedly make Julian’s mouth dry.
“If I recall you invited me here to have a bottle of kanar once upon a time.” Julian brings the bottle around with a flourish looking Garak in the eyes in defiance of his body’s heightened anxiety. “I was hoping to continue where we left off before all that unpleasantness.” His eyes dart to the side in spite of his best efforts to hold them steady. The memory is an uncomfortable one and it nearly makes him hiss in annoyance for such an intrusion to his emotions all of a sudden. Garak accepts the bottle with a nod.
“Yes, I can only imagine what an ordeal my complete physical and mental breakdown was for you.” As pleasant as the tone is Julian feels as if he’s just been told to sod off and he finds the flash of anger at the impudence to be at least a familiarity. It’s that damn, Miles. He probably drugged you, you fool. He’s not half as incapable as you seem to think... Brilliant where it counts... Dammit Jules, focus!
“You know you never need to apologize to me,” Julian says with all the benevolence he can muster as he watches Garak place the bottle on the table wordlessly. Whatever weird flash of annoyance that Garak seemed to have is gone when he turns back around. Julian decides it best to smooth things over regardless and quickly changes the subject. Garak’s guard will be high enough as it is without him being unnecessarily piqued.
“Quark told me the vintage is from the Ba’aten Province and quite good. Though I’m certain he knows I wouldn’t know good kanar if it bit me on the...” Julian trails off seeing Garak make an odd study of his bare arms. His first reaction is to cover them as unusual as that would be for him and he feels a slight switch aborting that self-conscious action.
“Am I violating some esoteric Cardassian law of modesty?” Julian asks settling for crossing his arms with a huff.
“I appreciate the sentiment, doctor,” Garak murmurs still seeming distracted as he ignores the sarcasm. “Though I admit I had held out hope that had you required a new costume to don, so to speak you would have first come to me before you…” Garak looks at the chains hanging around his neck and Julian has no idea what on earth is so fascinating about them. They were the first affectation Julian reacquired and he even made up some story about finding them an irresistible piece from a traveling merchant when Jadzia had finally poked her damn nose too far into the matter. “…made any unwise decisions.”
Julian catches the last of that cryptic statement and isn’t sure what Garak is getting at. You don’t know… you can’t possibly know a damn thing about the situation whatever the hell the doctor was trying to tell you when he was still here… Julian keeps his arms crossed defensively, middle and index fingers insinuating themselves into one of the thin silver loops unconsciously. He watches Garak follow the trail of those fingers twining, teasing, cool silver spilling delicately across his wrist.
“Are you objecting to my attire on a business or a personal level?” he asks at last with a trace of huskiness in his tone. Bring it back to the seduction, Jules. Draw the attention to the rest of the damn package and not just whatever the hell he keeps looking for.
“Oh hardly objecting, doctor-” Garak’s eyes sweep over him a final time his face wearing a perfunctory polite smile. “…but if I might make an observation?” Garak takes a step forward, arms clasped behind his back with that caustically warm face he wears when telling Julian he’s got something stuck between his teeth.
   Julian regards him curiously for a moment before deciding that he’s had enough of standing in the middle of the living room. He walks to the couch, sitting down with a leg crossed, right arm behind his head in a practiced pose.
“If you must,” he says somewhat petulantly, turning the flirting on a little more in case Garak doesn’t recognize more than acidic retorts and sharp debate as a sign of sexual interest. Garak still seems disinclined to take the bait instead picking up the bottle of kanar again with a curious second study- as if his eyes can dissect the faint orange that swirls around the sealed bottle. You stare at the bloody thing all day, Garak. You’re not going to find the answers there, at least not yet.
“You are wearing far too much… black,” he says still not looking at him.
“Too much… black…” Julian repeats curiously as Garak retrieves two stemmed glasses and sets them on the table.
“You’re wearing darkness like a cloak, my dear,” Garak says unstopping the bottle. He pours the thin liquid carefully noting the age and preciousness of the drink and Julian almost thinks he’s going to leave it at that. “I don’t think many will find that it suits you.” The vintage all but glistens in the light and Garak’s eyes are just as vivid catching him in a brilliant stare, handing him the glass. Julian cannot seem to look away though he doesn’t know why he wants to all of a sudden. The scrutiny is too much, at least that searching expression and he can’t help but think the fucking doctor must visit the man in his dreams or- Just who the hell are you talking to? Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?! He blinks and looks down carefully swirling the liquid around to aerate it as he would any wine. The older the vintage, the thinner, the more liquid was what Quark had said to him and that small detail to hide the watery drug was the only reason that he let the Ferengi swindle him out of so much carefully saved money.
“You may have noticed, Mr. Garak that I’ve grown rather tired of what others think of me.”
   “You seem to have grown tired of a lot of things, doctor.” Julian continues to look at the kanar as if he could somehow see himself reflected in the faintly rippling waves breaking the surface tension. He snorts derisively at the remark.
“If man were meant to stagnate at the same point of evolution forever we’d have never reached the stars. We’d never see the rise and fall of empires give birth to the ultimate monolith of power. If a man never changes, Elim,” Julian looks up and turns to Garak- sitting now so devilishly close on that sofa- holding that stare, infusing his every word with that ultimate unwavering belief in himself. “Then he is not a man but an animal. If a man never changes then he has written his own death sentence, would you not agree?” He doesn’t break that look, keeps those eyes held, is barely aware of his own movements as he remains reclined just waiting for Garak to answer him.
   “They say that when you look someone in the eyes- when you hold their gaze for more than six seconds... It can only mean one of two things.” Garak continues to look into his eyes as he speaks. It sparks a memory ages ago of a film he watched in school- the cobra would raise up, towering over the small desert vole entrancing it into paralysis before striking. Julian doesn’t back down even feeling his hand shudder with the faintest tremble around the stem of the glass. He is aware at the same time of his own breath, of his own heartbeat, but even louder... Where the devil did that damn noise come from? It’s like a metronome and until this moment of silence frozen in diamonds and glass it’s been so faint as to not register but now it’s almost all he can hear. toc toc toc.
“And what might that be?” toc toc toc. Garak smiles at him and Julian’s first thought is that it’s an incredibly sexy spreading grin across his face. The second thought it that Elim Garak is a very dangerous man.
   “It means, my dear, that you either wish to sleep with me, or kill me.” The glass in Garak’s hand slowly raises and Julian mimics the gesture too stunned to do otherwise as he suddenly drops his eyes. It’s the damn noise. It’s disrupting his concentration because this is a game he’s played to fucking death in the past and it’s only that bloody toc toc toc that breaks his usual concentration. It has to be. That has to be the only reason I can’t think tonight. He’s probably had the fucking thing going the entire time and if I could just stop hearing it... Except Garak doesn’t seem to register any noise at all and if it weren’t for Cardassian hearing Julian could almost believe he’s imagining the whole damn thing. Julian watches Garak- trying to divert his attention from the perfect pattern of sound announcing not quite a second with each toc. He shakes his head and brings the glass up to his lips stopping, peering over it wickedly as he regroups.
“Perhaps I would drug you.” He says suddenly and smirks when he sees Garak automatically pause in his imbibing. That’s it, Jules, this is your game after all. These are your rules and no spy turned seamstress is going to beat you at it.
“I beg your pardon?” There’s a slight reaction beyond the surprise and wariness and Julian isn’t sure what to make of it. But he pushes.
   “If I was here to kill you,” Julian says swirling the liquid around in his glass once more still not drinking it- as if his earlier action were nothing more than a ploy to get Garak to drink. He absently looks at the ring for a split second before cursing his carelessness at the gesture. He dares a quick glance at Garak gauging for any further reaction, seeing nothing but curiosity and a faint amusement. Good. He isn’t half as observant as he pretends to be then. “Assuming that I’m not here for your body...” He drops his voice just a pitch lower, just a little breathy, almost mimicking that adorable way that Leeta has when she’s being playful. “Assuming that I don’t desire you... don’t lust... don’t ache for your... assuming all that,” he says shifting the glass to his left hand and setting his elbow on the back of the sofa, sitting up and turning into Garak’s personal space enough to smell him. “Then perhaps I ought to tell you how I intend to give you a little death.”
   He doesn’t expect Garak to understand the double entendre- doesn’t expect the translator to pick up on the very human expression- but it’s rewarding to simply say it as he pulls back a bit. Garak looks to be engaged in a way Julian hasn’t had a chance to witness during their usual routine and it almost seems as if that methodical noise is picking up to match his heartbeat. toc. toc. toc.
“Well do tell, doctor. How is ‘plain simple Julian’ going to do in the…” he pauses for dramatic effect and the way he half hisses the next few words is an aphrodesiac itself. “…nefarious Cardassian spy?” Julian licks his lips as he’s about to give once of his most masterful performances and as he catches sight of the exposed glass his mind works to best calculate how to pour the contents of the ring unnoticed.
   “It’s quite simple really.” Julian leans in at the same time as Garak, dropping his voice to a low whisper. “I’m a sleeper agent of course. The real Julian Bashir has been replaced by a member of the Obsidian Order under orders from Enabran Tain to- in the event of his untimely death- finish the job of erasing his most favorite mistake should said mistake somehow manage to outlive him.” He catches the darkening of Garak’s expression, the tightening around the eyes and imagines there aren’t many to bear witness to such a look and live. It’s almost enough to make him hard. The pause is a test and he can’t be sure how long it last with the toc toc toc starting to disrupt his sense of time nearly in the reverse. But he waits what he thinks is long enough and Garak’s voice is soft and laps at his ears almost snaking through the constant toc toc toc like a little wisp of air.
“By all means, doctor, do continue.”
Julian leans in just another fraction closer, setting his own glass down, finger circling the rim of Garak’s as he drops his eyes and keeps that devilish upturn of his lips.
“Of course being a doctor, Julian Bashir has access to a myriad of drugs which can be used to easily incapacitate the victim. You see, I don’t want to poison you in this case. This is not a mission to send a message, no. This is a subtle assassination that requires a rather delicate touch.” Julian dips just the dip of his finger inside and brings it to his lips. He lets Garak watch him tease a few droplets onto his lower lip before lapping it up cleanly with a final slip. “But it doesn’t end there, no no no. When you pass out in oh say another few minutes I will take the opportunity to extract a hypodermic syringe.” Julian pulls his right leg underneath him, body shifting closer still. His knee touching Garak’s thigh and the intensity with which Garak studies him makes him rush with excitement as if the rest of his body can’t keep up with time itself.
   toc. The noise slows down and he has no idea how fast he’s speaking as his eyes dart like mad between glass and Garak.
“Why a hypodermic syringe instead of the old tried and true hypospray, you ask? It’s quite simple, really.” Julian toys with his hair and leans in even further, shifting, bring his mouth to Garak’s ear as if he’s whispering something dirty to him. “One of the greatest failings of the old standard pokey stick is not just the pain not just the little... prick no, Mr. Garak no no no.” toc “Far better, far far better the fact that if one is not careful…” He’s breathless as he rests a hand Garak’s shoulder. “If one does not… tap every last bit of air from the syringe...” toc “The results can be rather… fatal.” Julian punctuates the statement with a playful tap to the side of the glass, that last word hushed to the shell of Garak’s ear causing a slight tremor that Julian feels and he sits back to try and reign in a semblance of control. toc.
   “Fascinating,” Garak says with a beautiful expression of exaggerated rapt attention. Julian doesn’t stop to think the word could be applied to more than the game instead finding the look to be completely and utterly arousing. He squirms and can’t figure out why the sound continues to remain slow, slowing with every passing second until he’s spent an encapsulated eternity completely fucking hard.
“Isn’t it though? The whisper escapes his lips so quickly it almost sounds alien to his ears and he tries to force his time cognition to sync with his other senses. toc. toc. Julian almost closes his eyes, almost allows the smell of Garak’s hair to anchor him and his breaths almost seem unsettlingly drawn out. “You see Garak, luv, when one takes a hypodermic syringe... and neglects to properly tap out all of the air... or say… decides instead to fill it entirely with air and injects it into the patient’s bloodstream… into the vein just so...” Julian laughs softly as he considers the absurdity of the situation and wonders what he’s even doing here. “Perhaps fatal is an exaggeration unless one were to say hit an artery instead…
   “You’d have fucking kittens at the size of a fifty milliliter syringe if you were conscious to see it,” Julian declares manically. He abruptly pulls back and takes his own glass again in his right hand with a soft titter. “Fucking kittens,” he repeats looking at the liquid that seems to have mysteriously changed color with the sudden action. Why didn’t I see that before? He opens his mouth and makes a false start before closing it again seeing Garak watching him with a predatory look that’s just as vivisecting as it is sexual. That toc toc toc comes roaring back just shy of marking every second. Julian can feel the scowl form on his face as that gaze becomes unbearable.
“Don’t you hear that?!” Garak still just watches him with a patronizing smile that isn’t half as attractive as it seemed... however long ago it was. Garak takes a long drink from the glass and Julian almost grabs the damn thing before he drinks it dry, twisting the ring around his finger in agitation.
“You present an intriguing scenario, doctor,” Garak says as if Julian hasn’t just asked him a question. “You’ve clearly given the matter quite a bit of thought. But I’m afraid I must point out the fatal flaw in your little story.” Julian blinks at him feeling strangely out of his depth almost in despair as that fucking racket grows louder and speeds up. He nearly pulls the ring off his finger to throw it in frustration.
“I don’t have any...” He stops and swallows. “I don’t have any flaws.” Is that what you were going to say? What the hell is wrong with you? What happened to seduction, to lap crawling, to “my, that’s a big one?” Julian’s fingers fall to the long chains clutching them almost like a lifeline as they twine around his fingers and pull his focus from the incessant toc toc. He takes a deep breath and takes a long drink as well before shutting his eyes for a few blessed moments with nothing but him and the cooling silver pouring through his fingers.
   Julian opens his eyes and makes damn sure the only thing one should be able to see is desire and nothing more.
“Fatal flaw, you say?” he asks with a slight tease to his tone and toys with the cloth covered hollow of his throat loving the way Garak’s eyes fall to the spot. They don’t linger but it’s enough to make him warm from far more than the alcohol.
“For starters, doctor this vintage of kanar is rather delicate as I’m sure you’ve noticed. Had you exposed it to the air prior to this evening to measure the drug it would be sure to change color with even that small bit of oxidation.” Ah, so that’s why it changed then. But didn’t your glass change as well. I should’ve noticed that if not for all the damn banging going on in here. Aren’t you just so damn smart, Garak? Julian keeps the amused smile on his face as Garak continues. “Of course you might have waited until this evening but more than that...”
   Garak takes another small drink and makes Julian wait and while he waits that metronome continues to hammer away at him. He sets the glass down on the table and Julian almost snaps at him to get on with it but by God if he could stand up before an entire school board inquisition, in front of God and half of the local law enforcement with his parents yelling in the background... Look the lot of them in the eyes as they would damn him to hell and tell them all that his classmates- their children, their brothers and sisters- were a bunch of delusional liars and if anyone had died it wasn’t because of... Stop it, Jules. This isn’t the time for that, this is the time to be smart, to be brilliant and better than you were even then. The stakes are a lot higher and this is more than just your life this is existence itself, godhood, every significant thing that exists un this universe.
   It all sounds perfectly noble in his head right up until Julian notes how Garak eyes roam up and down his body from head to toe in the manner he’s been attempting to cultivate all evening. He isn’t sure why it catches him unawares but it does far more to distract him with one look than that noise has all evening.
“More than that?” he echoes rather stupidly, inexplicably breathless, as he sets his own glass down.
“I can tell just by looking at your attire this evening, doctor, that there is no possibly way you could be concealing so large a syringe in your pockets.” Garak raises an eye ridge and again Julian can feel the heat in that look. He can feel the heat in his face, his chest, every part of him that matters and he takes that toc toc toc and forces it to slow himself this time, forces that other sense of time slowing. It’s that slow down, that extra sensory perception beyond even conventional self-hypnosis that allows him to process innumerable thoughts seemingly in the blink of an eye and in that one instance he clears what can only be the doctor’s vulnerability. Julian is confident that the only thing Garak sees in the next moment when he blinks his eyes is what Julian wants him to see. And that’s the same lust reflected back.
   “Who said that I was concealing it in my pockets?” he asks coolly, sitting back, untucking his leg and crossing it over the other with blatant suggestion. Garak merely smiles in answer taking another drink.
“Who indeed…” toc toc toc. It’s picked up again. At least he thinks it’s the external sound and not his own pulse thudding heavily in his ears. Julian sees the glass being drank down and he knows that he needs to act now or get Garak to pour another. Julian sits up and puts his hand over Garak’s boldly, the both of them holding the glass and he gives Garak a long, meaningful look that should brook no argument as to whether or not he has sex or death on the brain. And maybe when I put you under this time Garak I’ll make you get on your knees and- “Do you know why this vintage of kanar is so highly valued, doctor?”
“Why are we still talking about kanar, Garak?” Why are you stalling? Why are you looking at me like you want to fuck me right here on the floor but keep dancing around with these games? And why won’t you shut up and kiss me already so I can finish what I came here to-
“It changes color… when it’s tampered with, my dear.” Toc toc toc.
“What?” Julian can feel his hand tremble for just a second over Garak’s before Garak’s other hand closes over his. He feels a thumb circle deliberately over the sapphire on his ring finger and his body freezes in such a telling manner he thinks there’s no way it could have possibly be missed. Toc toc. Is this fear? Julian has never been afraid of anything in his life. Toc toc toc. The doctor is the one who fears, who worries, who has vomit inducing bouts of anxiety in the bloody loo- not him. Toc toc toc toc. You can’t know. There’s no fucking way you could know! toctoctoctoctoc.
Julian looks away and fights the urge to yank his hand back and run.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His voice is alien to his ears. It’s too plaintive, too soft and it’s somehow become secondary to the pounding.
“You’re going too fast, doctor,” Garak chastises him softly. Julian can feel the thumb move from its position on his finger to the back of his hand and it makes for a strangely comforting gesture. “Perhaps… if the noise is bothering you… you should slow it down.”
“Slow it… down?” Julian almost asks him about that sound again but Garak isn’t half as distracted as he is and perhaps if he can just make it slow until it stops entirely…
   “You know how to do that, don’t you?” The voice is soft as it questions and he doesn’t know why he doesn’t question any of it. Of course he knows how to slow down the metronome. It’s one of the most basic ways to induce the hypnotic state and he can do it without even thinking when he needs to- Right. Focus… slow it down. Shut it off so you can get your damn head back on straight. He breathes in slowly. It’s not ticking off in seconds, it’s longer than that. Julian breathes out and stares at the hands gripping his. It’s coming back. It’s starting to clear. His head on the verge of a migraine is starting to unclench, his body is starting to lose the tension and he breathes in again even more slowly. Yes… just a little more, just a little longer, longer, deeper, slower... The noise begins to nearly and Garak’s hands feel so terribly warm…
“Yes, that’s better...” Julian doesn’t know why Garak’s voice is closer to his face until he looks up and sees it so unbearably close to his own. He doesn’t know why the room is blurring and why every motion seems to be passing through a temporal shift. It seems like hours when the toc skips to another at last, no longer so insistently. Julian thinks he hears Garak speak his name but the other’s lips are moving too slowly for him to properly register. Is that my name? But that’s impossible you don’t know my name… Elim.... Julian tries to blink but he feels too heavy and he feels himself floating back to the couch, still watching Garak’s impassive face as it moves further away. Those lips move one more time and it’s sharp, quick, the command breaking the haze of his conscious and as he hears “sleep” spoken he sees the darkness encroaching upon him and his head sags forward, body limp, falling right into Garak’s arms. He breathes in deeply. Right. Sleep. Sleep will help me focus…
   Garak lets the position linger just a little as he eases Julian back onto the sofa, that warm breath on the ridges of his neck- even the faint tickle of that odd scroll worked facial hair- far too pleasurable to be permitted. He watches the rise and fall of Julian’s chest as he slowly disengages their hands and sets them on Julian’s lap. I told you before I’m a gentleman, doctor and much as you’ve tempted me tonight it wouldn’t be good manners to take advantage of you in such a condition. Garak isn’t entirely sure what condition that is but Julian’s behavior tonight combined with the security footage and his own observations from the last few weeks re-examined are making a much clearer picture. The picture is that Julian is not at all in his right mind. Get on with it already, Elim. You need to ask a few very specific questions and sitting here staring is an indulgence you can ill afford. Garak takes another slow drink of the sweet, tangy kanar, draining the glass before setting it down. He notes that the two glasses are of a different hue as he stands. Standing is much better. Standing far more like working, far less intimate, and even as he looks at the dark blue stretched over Julian’s flat stomach he knows that there are greater stakes here than the base desires of the flesh.
   “You look very relaxed now.” he says disengaging any erstwhile emotions. “I do hope you feel relaxed. I’m sure you will find that when you relax that the noise you complained about has ceased.” Garak ends the program softly. “But keep your eyes closed, my dear. You find it far easier to think, to answer my questions when your eyes are closed. You want to answer my questions. It will make you feel good. It will make you more relaxed and comfortable. More… at ease with yourself.” Garak avoids any usage of name and watches the tension slowly ebb further out of Julian’s body. He sees the flutter of eyes and can see the register of his voice.
“Yes… of course,” Julian agrees softly.
“That’s good. Keep breathing. Keep letting yourself float and relax. I’m going to start and I want you at your most relaxed, at your warmest, like you’re in a warm bath. It’s okay to go underneath the surface. You can breathe under the water and it’s warm as it enters your body. Breathe. In. Out. Slowly, slowly. You want to be warm and answer my questions and you’ll need to sink deep to answer me...”
   Garak watches Julian start to breathe, he watches as the minutes go by, talking to him softly, watching the body relaxed, boneless, yet at the same time aware, animated, perfectly alive and far more trusting than any living creature ought to be of him. Garak continues to stare, to drink in the sight of that stomach and those bare arms that at first seemed ridiculously long overly exposed limbs in the sleeveless shirt. Cheap, synthetic, really, doctor I’m almost more offended that you eschewed my highly developed aesthetic in favor of trash... But it is uniquely flattering trash and the more he studies the half conscious body, the more he finds himself letting those dark daydreams start to insinuate back into his consciousness. You have no idea how angry I was, doctor. No idea at all the things I want to do to you in return. I could do far worse to you than stand here and ask you questions. I want to do far more. I want to teach you what it means to tease- to torment- and in your current state I almost think you’d let me… But even if we weren’t friends I owe you a debt and you haven’t pushed me that far just yet.
“A little more. A little deeper and we’ll be ready. Do you understand?”
“Yes... deeper...” The cadence with which Julian speaks those words is like the human metaphorical devil on his shoulder and it would be far far too easy to lose control. That cannot be allowed. Garak crosses in front of him again taking a deep breath himself. No, it won’t do to let himself give in to those impulses. One of the first rules, Elim. Never let them get to you like this. Never let them effect you. You are the sole light, the sole salvation and when you ask the questions you are master of not just the interrogation but yourself....They do say, doctor, that confession is good for the soul. And I shall nobly endeavor then to be your salvation.
   Garak takes just a moment to consider the two names that he heard on the recording. Julian. Jules. There are two roads he can walk with this and where the doctor never lies, the doctor does not entirely appear to understand what is going on either- tonight only confirms that suspicion. He decides to proceed as he’d initially planned.
“Who are you?” is the first thing that Garak asks and the response comes without hesitation.
“Jules Subatoi Bashir.” The voice is soft but not at all uncertain and it means the next logical question would be- Where is Julian then? Who is Julian? Who are you? These are questions the footage had given rise to and yet the more he considers, the more he even thinks about them with Julian here, the more he finds himself unable to speak a single word. Clever. Yes, you’re quite clever, Jules.
Just like the chocolates, just like the music there is a compulsion that he is unable to break. Garak narrows his eyes and can’t help but smile nastily at that triumphant little upturn of Julian’s mouth. Whether he is aware of what is going on or not he seems completely confident in his infallibility. Do you really think that’s it? I cannot uncover what I cannot ask, but I think, Jules that you and your little games are nothing but that. And I’ve been playing far longer than you and with much heavier stakes. Garak finds himself growing far too excited at the challenge of dissecting- of violating- and it would be best for all parties if he were simply to end this now- to bring his concerns to Commander Sisko, to Julian’s friends, to perhaps some qualified Starfleet medic without any sort of personal stake in Julian’s… well-being. Garak pours himself another drink instead. A very fine vintage indeed... Garak sifts through family, plans, any number of things he could ask only to find that every door yields a lock on his tongue.
But that will only make victory that much sweeter and seeing that arrogant little smirk ad he realizes the best way to trap a king. Yes, you know better than anyone how the most powerful, most arrogant ones love to hear themsevles talk.
“Tell me what you dream about, Jules.” Bury yourself, my dear.
“What I… dream about?” comes the careful answer. Garak too appears cautious as if circling a dangerous animal as he presses on appealing to that inflated sense of ego.
“Yes, what does Caesar dream of if not an unconquerable empire?” He watches Julian take an almost ecstatic breath as he wets those lips- those far too glossy, far too tempting lips- and speaks in a hush.
“An empire of Gods. An empire to rival any of those set above in the heavens; that is what I dream of, Elim.” Garak watches the face open and naked- full of ambition, desire, and Julian speaks in the same manner as he used to when discussing the excitement of his work in the infirmary. “I want to create a utopia, a perfect world where disease is vanquished, suffering, death, are all relics of a bygone era, and everyone knows that it is because of me, Elim. I want to be everything that Khan wasn’t. And I will. I will be loved, revered like the father of the gods, seated upon the highest throne like Zeus and I will be so terribly…”
Julian trails off and Garak can watch without fear of being noticed, can observe the shift that he can now recognize instantly and trusting his instinct he doesn’t ask for Jules but-
“Julian?” Julian is still and there’s just a faint crease between his brows, mouth turned downward and Garak sits next to him putting a hand lightly to his knee taking a different tact this time.
“Ga…rak?” is spoken as if he’s incredibly confused and unsure. A complex series of subroutines? Is that really all that you are, Julian?
“Yes. I’m here. You are still relaxed, Julian.” He cannot, no matter how hard he tries to say the word “doctor” and it is a curiosity he files away for later. “You’re here with me, Julian. You’re calm. You’re warm and all you need to do is breathe. Just keep breathing. Keep breathing in warmth and I’ll need you to go down deeper still. Go deeper and let everything clear away. Let it be washed clean. You have perfect clarity. Now again, who are you?”
“J-Julian Subatoi Bashir.”
   Garak sets the glass down with a look of intensity that Julian cannot see beneath his shuttered gaze.
“And what do you dream... Julian?” he asks with the tenderness that usually accompanies the pain. It is the same sympathetic tone he employs before laying in with blood, with agony, that gentle voice to coax the truth into being. The thought both excites and disturbs him as he looks at the human body thinking how slender and fragile those limbs appear to be. Garak lets a finger trail down the adam’s apple of Julian’s lean and vulnerable neck. Julian’s breath hitches and Garak is so taken with the desire to press, to feel the fluttering of pulse faster, to watch him gasp for air and he thinks if Julian doesn’t answer him soon he doesn’t know that he can trust himself to resist. “He is nothing but a fabricated persona and unlike me... he does not himself dream, he does not want, he does not desire.” Those words echo as Jules had spoken them believing them to be utter truth. And if this is true, then what which is Julian should never be able to answer that question. And if you are not real, Julian, then it is truly a crime to break you?
   “I… I don’t know how to answer that, Garak.” It would be too simple to believe but this is a liar’s game and Garak knows better than to trust words alone. The most perfect lie is the one that a man believes to be utterly true, you should know that better than anyone. That’s not enough. It’s not good enough and it doesn’t satisfy his instincts.
“Open your eyes, Julian. Slowly, very slowly because you’re still asleep. You’re still here with me and in fact you are dreaming now. But I want you to be able to see me. I want you to look at me. I want you to answer my question again. If you answer my question it will allow you to be at peace.” Garak watches Julian’s eyes slowly open and watches the head turning to face him. It’s an odd half sideways tilt of the head that’s eerily reminiscent of Jules.
“Garak?”
“What do you dream of, Julian? What do you desire?”
“I... I can’t...”
   “Your secrets are safe with me Julian.” Garak whispers with such sincerity he almost believes the lie himself. He waits and watches every fleeting emotion pass over that open face. There is such a clear difference between the two- Julian and Jules- that he has no idea how he was fooled even for a moment. The answer does not seem to come easily but when it does, Julian himself appears as surprised as Garak when he whispers into the quiet room with a desperate realization.
“You.”
Well you’ve certainly complicated things quite nicely for yourself, haven’t you, Elim?
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