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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
- 4
- 5
- 6
Note: A lot more Garak Bashir in the second half but first Julian’s plans become far more apparent and dare I say, sinister? Thanks to everyone reading and anyone wanting to correct what may be bad science feel free- I love C&C.
4
Julian watched almost entranced as Quark shot yet another glance to the med kit beneath the table. It wasn’t until Quark started prodding it with his boot that Julian commented on it.
“If you still think the Constable is lurking in the shadows, Quark, I assure you that I’ve taken care of it.” Julian sighed with exasperation and looked nervously to the back. “It would also help if your brother was actually here. I had made sure to enter in the infirmary log that I was here after hours assisting the two of you with a delicate medical issue.” Julian crossed a leg, folding his arms without the same self-assurance he’d displayed previously. Quark kept his eyes trained on the case despite any reassurances. He almost hadn’t let Julian enter with the case at all.
“It’s not that I don’t trust you doctor-” There was a slight sideways flicker of Julian’s eyes at the tone of address. Julian cut him off trying to contain his irritation.
“I told you that you don’t need to call me that. I’m far more comfortable if you just call me Jules.” He inclined his head looking as if it pained him to be so conciliatory.
“Well having been on the receiving end of many an unfair accusation you can understand my need for caution... Jules.” The name rolled off with an alien sound. Julian relaxed just the same and picked the med kit off the floor. He pulled it onto his lap like a pet cat seeming to be past the hitch in his behavior.
“Would it satisfy you if I opened him up and gave you a little stick?” Julian stroked the case suggestively looking amused all of a sudden. Quark did not seem to share the joke. Julian huffed dramatically and rolled his eyes setting it down on the table loudly. “Well why don’t we just put it in the safe until business is concluded then? Though, if you recall, I’m supposed to be conducting an examination here. And there’s hardly a point in hiding the only thing that halfway corroborates that story, wouldn’t you say?” His pique was clearly projected as his right hand went to its usual reflex of toying with the silver chains around his neck.
Quark ignored his protest and if summoned by magic, Rom was there to retrieve the case.
“You don’t think he’ll suffocate in there, do you, doctor?” Rom asked nervously as he picked up the med kit. Julian reacted to the name by clenching the chains tightly looking like he’d been hit with a splash of cold water.
“I really don’t think-“
“It serves him right if he does.” Quark glared at the med kit as if it really were Odo Rom was holding in his hands. “It’s hard to feel safe when you have a suspicious character like that skulking around when honest people are trying to do business.
“He’ll be fine, Rom,” Julian said to placate the other Ferengi managing a glance upwards and a weak smile. Julian took a breath as the med kit was placed in “safe keeping.” He looked down seeming more ill at ease than he was a moment ago. Quark took notice as he continued to watch Julian carefully.
   “He’s been watching you too, hasn’t he?” Julian looked up like a man startled out of something only he could hear.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Odo,” Quark said as if it should be obvious. “I’ve seen him sneaking those suspicious glances your way between harassing my paying customers.” He indicated a particularly discreet spot on the second floor. “He likes to lurk up there driving away business. Doesn’t eat, doesn’t drink, tell me how’s a man to stay in business under these circumstances?” Julian followed the arm and blinked slowly once, twice, before shrugging nonchalantly.
“I’m sure you’ll be fine, Quark. You always manage to land on your feet. But as for me well, suspicions aren’t proof. Suspicions will give a man an ulcer. Suspicions will keep a man up at night but without that smoking gun…” Julian trailed off with a yawn. “Your concern while appreciated is unnecessary. Sisko or Dax or some other nosy Starfleet do-gooder likely grew tired of asking me if I was alright and decided to bypass niceties entirely.” Julian appeared irritated once more. Quark gave him a toothy smile.
“Whatever change of heart you’ve undergone in the last few weeks… Jules,” he made sure to emphasize the name. “I find your more pragmatic outlook to be much more refreshing, myself.”
“That’s what I’ve always appreciated about you, Quark. You have a keen business sense that’s sorely lacking by most of the inhabitants of this station. And that is why I thought of you first with this little business problem I’ve found myself with.” Julian waited, watching that shrewd countenance and the greed mixed with curiosity that sprang to light in the Ferengi’s eyes. He lowered his voice as if fearing he might be overheard licking his lips with barely contained eagerness. “I need latinum, Quark. I need quite a great sum of latinum. And you’re just the man who’s going to help me acquire it.”
There was no immediate answer to that and Julian exhaled, eyes focused on the table intently, before looking up with practiced playfulness. “Not going to venture a guess?”
“You have me at a disadvantage, Jules,” Quark replied spreading his arms putting the ball back in Julian’s court.
“Right well... I have something that a lot of buyers would be willing to part with a tidy sum to get their hands on…” He looked at Quark intently. “And a little birdie told me- to quote a human idiom- that you’ve been trying for some time to get in the good graces of the Orion Syndicate… possibly as more than just a friendly liaison.” Quark’s shoulders were filled with a slight tension as he looked up to where his brother had come back behind Julian.
“It wasn’t me, brother! I didn’t say anything about you talking with-“ He stifled himself as Quark made a shushing motion giving Julian a friendly if serious look.
“People talk, Jules. You know how it is. They gossip. But I’ve always been on the right side of the law so if you or Odo-“
“Do you remember that little darts tournament a short time back?” Julian interrupted impatiently drumming his fingers on the table. The shift was abrupt but it was obvious that Quark very much remembered- Miles’ victory had netted him a tidy profit.
“Oh yes, very impressive. He was very much ‘in the zone’ as you hoo-mans say.” An understatement when in fact by the end of the tournament the two competitors were playing on equal footing at a distance no normal human could manage.
“Well what if… I told you that I played a rather significant part in his victory? Say possibly in his entire good fortune itself?” Julian paused and let Quark consider this- let him mull over the possibilities. Rom seated himself across the table abruptly much to Quark’s obvious chagrin.
“You cheated?” he asked seeming surprised at the notion that the doctor would do such a thing. Julian snorted and sat back.
“Hardly.”
“Jules, as much as I can appreciate helping a friend profit, I’m not seeing the latinum to be made here.”
“I’m not...” Julian hesitated again taking a breath. “I’m not just talking darts, Quark.” He indicated a data pad that had been sitting on the table unobtrusively until that moment. Julian pulled up the numbers and pushed it across the table while launching into an explanation. Quark stared at the screen uncertainly making Julian realize he was going to need to break it down further. “It’s all right here, though as you two aren’t doctors, I’ll explain it in layman’s terms. What I gave Miles didn’t just improve his darts game. It made him better.”
Julian practically bounced in his seat with a show of his old enthusiasm leaning across the table. “It made him faster, stronger, more agile, in fact-“ He scrolled to another diagram on the schematic that was a detailed chart of the brain. “It even produced similar affects to the highly illegal accelerated neural pathway formation. Because there is no permanent pathways created per se but the altered cells of the brain are able to function more efficiently, maintain peak function longer, have less DNA degradation almost to the contrary in fact. What does that mean? It means improved focus, recall, intelligence. And that’s just to start.” Julian ran both fingers through his hair reseating himself, almost thrumming. “I was able to do with a little spritz of hypospray what genetic engineers only dreamed of even at the height of what we humans called the Eugenics Wars!”
   Julian coughed, flushing nervously, looking around again as if Odo truly were disguised as a piece of furniture.
“Right, sorry.” He scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably. “What makes this unique, what makes this something your potential partners would be interested in is this. This is not a drug. This is not genetic engineering as we’ve come to recognize the science today. This is in fact a mitochondrial virus which is active for a very specific duration until such time when it finds latency a more appealing option. Thus,” Julian pulled up the life cycle of the virus itself. “It then lays dormant until the correct stimulus is applied. When active the virus forces the cells it infects far beyond the limits of what they would otherwise be capable for a brief duration. The duration in this case being a few weeks, possibly months depending on the subject and the race- any longer and you risk premature cell death, hemorrhage, organ failure… a myriad of side effects better not thought about.” Another drum of his fingers, another brush back of hair. Julian looked at Quark and Rom, not liking the way Rom was frowning.
Quark in the other hand was carefully considering. Julian seized upon that.
“You see it too, don’t you? The virus can be forced back into its active state once a safe amount of time has elapsed- or not as the case may be but whatever the customer does at that point is their business, not ours- and most customers would pay a king’s ransom to maintain their… divinity one might say...” Julian again looked to be a mix of hesitance and enthusiasm and he took to fidgeting with the chains while Quark thought about it all too greedily.
“There’s no way they would refuse me with something like this,” Quark breathed out at last. Julian studied both of them almost holding his breath.
“Brother, you can’t be considering this,” Rom hissed. “This is a lot more than engineering the dabo tables this is-“
“The opportunity of a lifetime,” Quark declared looking at Julian with wonder. Julian had turned his head again briefly, a look of concentration on his face as he looked at Quark. His body relaxed once more.
“So was my little birdie correct, Quark?”
“Brother, the syndicate is-“
“Going to be eating out of the palm of my hand!” Quark declared talking over Rom’s protests. “Gaila can keep his moon, I’ll have an entire world!” Julian twirled a lock of hair around his finger with a grin.
“As shall we both… but first… we should hammer out the details of this arrangement.”
“Brother-“
“Quiet, Rom.”
“I think I’ll want that drink after all,” Julian said looking at Rom pleasantly. “Tarkalian Tea. Not. Sweet.” Quark cut off any further protests assuring Rom they would talk about it later. Julian trusted him to handle his brother.
“Shall we start at a cut of thirty percent? After all I’m the one doing most of the production work and assuming a great risk to my personal standing and reputation.”
“Thirty? If this comes falling down on my head, Jules, I’ll be the one in the line of fire. And you need me, Jules, make no mistake about that. No, I was thinking more like sixty.”
“Sixty?! Are you mad? That’s a king’s ransom to set up a few meetings… now if you can procure me weapons as well then perhaps we can look at forty.”
“If we’re talking weapons, we’re talking my cousin Gaila and that is going to cost you a lot more. That’s going to have to put us up to sixty five.” Julian watched Rom set the tea down looking thoughtful.
“Then perhaps… we ought to consider the security clearance needed to access the weapons locker instead or possibly even…” Julian stirred the tea slowly. “Perhaps there might be those who still have the ability to unlock the entire station.” He stopped and licked the spoon clean. “Well then, what percentage are we at for a name?”
“Doctor.” Julian nearly jumps at the sharp voice which seems to come out of nowhere; he keeps that momentary heart skip tightly confined. It is on his lips immediately to correct the improper address with pique until he turns and sees Odo walking towards him. No, you need to be far more careful than that, Jules. Julian licks his lips thoughtfully as he determines how to mask any display of nervousness. He continues his walk slowing down as he turns his head towards the source of the exclamation. Julian is mildly surprised when Odo falls into step with him. He considers whether their destination is shared but says nothing. What could Odo possibly-
“You’ll forgive me, doctor, but as I believe we may be going the same way I thought I might have a word with you.”
“Oh? Well I was headed to the wardroom for a meeting that Lieutenant Dax had called.”
“I’m headed that way as well.” Well isn’t that just ducky.
“By all means, Constable, don’t keep me in suspense.” Julian finds it difficult not to simply toss his head and tell him to bugger off. He keeps a look of neutral curiosity.
“I had noticed you paying Quark’s a visit rather late last night.” Odo does not mince words. “Is there anything going on that I should know about?”
   Julian feels his pulse quicken taking no longer than a moment to assess whether or not the question is as benign as Odo is appearing to be. As benign as Odo ever appears to be anyway… And here you thought Quark was unnecessarily paranoid. He makes certain his face doesn’t betray him and then looks down, shaking his head with a rueful smile.
“Doctor patient privilege, I’m afraid. Although, I’m sure you would find Quark’s latest malady to be somewhat amusing were I able to convey it.” Julian’s eyes dart quickly to the side from beneath the curtain of hair to see if Odo buys the lie. He’s measured his cadence while lying- practiced it carefully in the safety of his own quarters in fact- but he hasn’t been able to account for this level of heightened anxiety. He’s never had to in the past. You don’t get nervous, Jules. You don’t feel anxious. You’re not supposed to be anything but infallible. But is that because of the damn doctor or some Changeling parlor trick?
   Odo neither relaxes nor looks any more suspect. Julian finds to his chagrin that he’s completely unable to read him.
“You appear concerned,” Julian probes cautiously as if he were worried for his own safety. “There haven’t been any incidents on the station, have there?” Divert the attention away from yourself, Jules. Make him focus on some other unseen foe- God knows there’s enough barmy shite out here to warrant it. Play on their sympathies. They know you’re still ill. They all feel sorry for your poor traumatic brain and you should milk it ‘til the time is right. You’ve had enough of a jaunt stretching your legs, you need to be smart now and not push it. Pull back until you’re a perfect outward mirror of your old self here. Julian relaxes inwardly even as he projects anxiety. Odo shakes his head in the negative. That’s it. Poor, pitiful Julian.
“Nothing that should be cause for alarm, just a few things I’m looking into...”
Odo slows his walk as that thought trails off. He looks particularly thoughtful when his eyes look over Julian. Julian keeps his expression curious but carefully blank of any suspect emotion. “How well do you know the dabo girl, Leeta?” Odo finally asks. Julian blinks a few times and stops a few feet from the door to the ward room looking terribly artfully confused.
“Leeta?” Yes that’s it. Say her name like you’ve just been told she’s a Changeling. You’re innocent. She’s innocent. The whole damn world is innocent to Julian Bashir. “We’ve grown rather close I... I’m very fond of her, in fact, is she in some sort of trouble?” Julian speaks in a hush at the end with a slight dramatic stage whisper. It pains him that all of this effort to perform perfectly is likely lost on Odo.
   Odo, true to form, wears suspicion like a comfortable old suit but Julian notes it isn’t particularly directed at him. He wonders, in fact, if this revelation isn’t part and parcel of the reason for Odo’s surveillance of him. It nearly makes him laugh out loud. Oh you can’t. You cannot possibly suspect that Leeta is the one behind all the hushed whispers in the hall, the careful propaganda, the delightful little sweet candies being passed around amongst some of the station inhabitants. As sharp as she is, she could never pull of the coup I’ve got going on right beneath the nose you don’t bloody have. He puts a hand over his mouth as if shocked, carefully masking the smile that threatens to escape. Julian swallows the near hiccup of laughter as Odo watches him still. He finally is forced to bite his tongue to stifle elation before it turns to a fit of manic excitement.
“It would be wise,” Odo says at last after concluding his ocular dissection, “if you were to keep both eyes open, doctor. You may find that things are not always as they appear.” Julian drops his hand and crosses his arms with a small bit of incredulous laughter. He deliberately misses- in oblivious Julian Bashir fashion- any hint of double meaning.
“Well I’m sure whatever is going on, Constable, you’ll find that Leeta is entirely innocent.” He looks down, eyes staring at the floor not quite trusting himself to maintain eye contact. “Are you… able to share any of your suspicions?” Julian looks quickly back and forth as if they’re having some sort of clandestine meeting. He fakes it well enough to almost feel excited. Odo shakes his head. No, of course you wouldn’t, damn your bloody caution.
“Commander Sisko is aware and will be informing ops accordingly but for now the fewer people that know the better. You understand, doctor.” It wasn’t a question.
   I’d understand a sight better if you’d stop fucking calling me that. Julian only notices that after that third use of that hateful title his fingers are gripping his elbow far too tightly. He eases up as discreetly as he can manage seeing Odo’s notice of the slight shift in skin color. It shouldn’t have hurt so much. Julian notes the joint feels a slight ache and it worries him that he hasn’t yet learned to adjust for the minor increases in strength from the last experimental dosage. Except my experimental dosage is a much more permanent effect. Yes, you’ve outdone yourself Jules. Slow, subtle, everything Khan and his rabble weren’t.
“I’m sorry I just don’t… don’t react terribly well to shock anymore, I’m afraid.” Julian manages a weak smile as if he can will Odo to believe, to underestimate, to pity by that act alone. Not good enough. Whatever is going on with you, you need to be smarter, less careless; perfect. No matter what happens you can’t slip up. Fix it, Jules.
“I think half of Ops tiptoes around me,” Julian confides with a shake of his head as he straightens up. “It isn’t as if my work has suffered,” he adds with a sigh. “I don’t forget things. I don’t make mistakes. I’m not an invalid, Odo. I’m not broken I’m not less than what I used to be or any of that. I’ll be better. I will get better I just… I just need a little more time for my nerves is all.” Julian doesn’t risk looking at Odo in the midst of what should be a dramatic reflective soliloquy. He feels a half awkward reassuring hand on his shoulder and the gesture almost shocks him into a genuine reaction. Julian doesn’t understand why he takes comfort from the touch. It makes him stammer the next sentence with an emotion that cannot be feigned. “Th-thank you, Constable, I’m fine now.”
“If you ever find yourself needing to… talk…” Julian is too stunned to show anything at the half offered consolation.
“I… I understand completely.” You did not almost say something to him! “And as far as the other matter you have my absolute discretion.”
Julian looks to the door mustering up his best tired smile feeling as if he doesn’t run now he may very well throw himself into the other arms and sob like a broken child. He swallows. You need to make them stop, Jules. Whatever you have to do they have to stop calling you “doctor”. They have to stop calling you “Julian”. It’s too unsettling. It’s too close and somehow the doctor is still too close to being real.
“Well, I don’t know what all this is about, but I am rather excited to find out.” Julian turns and steps through the doorway with a measured step. He fights every urge he has to bolt as the door opens without further preamble. Julian strolls in idly and makes sure that he keeps his eyes discreetly looking- makes sure they’re warm, affectionate, and hold nothing of the disdain he’s sure has manifested in the past
Two months, Jules, maybe less if this goes off as it should. Two months and you won’t need to hold back. You won’t need to be so considerate, so careful. He sees Major Kira complimenting Miles’ improved physique and wishes he could take the credit openly. Has it really only been two weeks? Miles looks good. Thinner in the face, slightly more defined musculature- exactly as planned. I haven’t had to hold back half as much around you. You’re smarter too, I know it. And soon you should be ready to understand all the ideas I propose, embrace your place in the new order of things. You’ll be ready to leave all this nonsense behind after Keiko returns. Of course it could still go arse over tits where she’s concerned but that doesn’t-
Julian forgets that worry as he sees Leeta quickly rise from her seat. She stands up as soon as she sees him- as one would for a king- and Julian feels exultation intermingled with guilt. Do stop feeling sorry for the chattel, Jules. Whatever self-flagellating doctor nonsense still trying to rule you from the shadows should be ignored before it messes with your head.
“That’s a good little lark,” Julian murmurs brushing her face with a heated look. He catches the disapproval from Kira out of the corner of his eye and it annoys him. It’s far more palatable to accept the bumbling fool constantly talking out of turn. It’s far easier to like me when I’m poor broken Julian, isn’t it, Major? Believe me, Kira, there’s a lot worse I could show you than this. Julian strokes Leeta’s head like he would a favored pet watching Kira bristle even further. He can tell Leeta wants to protest the forwardness. She doesn’t. Instead she drops her eyes and says nothing. Julian can’t help the satisfied smirk at that. Just a little indulgence. Surely just a small rush of dropping this for a moment won’t kill you now will it? Impulse control is just a farce to control those whose impulses are wrong.
   Nonetheless Julian inhales slowly to bring it back under control and pulls his hand back. He sits down watching the rest of them take their seats making sure that when Kira sits down his expression holds nothing but innocent confusion. A hundred percent bonafide Dr. Julian Bashir, isn’t that much better? She looks as if she doesn’t know what to make of him still. C’mon, darling. Remember the heart to heart we had after the attack? I poured everything into that. All the doubt, the self-recrimination, surely a few slips here and there don’t wipe all that away. You know I haven’t been myself. You know I still act out, don’t you? That’s all that it is, naturally I don’t mean it. He makes sure not to watch her for too long and instead shoots a quick glance to Quark. You’re a disgusting little troll but I need you desperately and so help me if I didn’t- Still there’s a look of understanding that passes between them- a look shared by two players on the same side of a game that only a handful even know they’re playing. Julian catches the Ferengi’s attention, his eyes darting quickly to Odo. Quark nods in response. Good. Be careful.
   “Jules.” Four heads turn in slight surprise at the address. Yes, they don’t know yet, do they? Clean it up. You can’t afford to be so careless. Julian looks at the lot of them expression blank, as if they have no cause for surprise. Miles, for his part ignores the lot of them continuing as if there’s nothing unusual about the name. “Whaddya say to another game after my shift ends? Think I might be feeling a win today.” Good chief, good work. They trust you. They still like you even if they all hate me. They’ll take a cue from you since we’re such good friends and if anything were wrong of course you’d see it first, wouldn’t you?
“So soon? You look like you’ve just come from there already.” Julian drops a hand to rest on Leeta’s thigh as he feels Odo’s eyes on him again.
You’ve seen all the transmissions to Elizabeth- to other members of Starfleet. Surely you’re wondering if the doctor is tomcatting around or if it’s something far more sinister. I don’t believe for a second that you’ve only been looking at Leeta- you’d be suspicious of your own mother if you had one. Julian gives an encouraging squeeze. Leeta smiles at him prettily just as Miles boasts that he’s got all the energy of a teenager and more. Julian can feel his heart start to calm in reassurance of the pieces on the board. There, Jules, you aren’t alone. You have allies. You have far more than they know and soon you’ll have everything in place
   Julian settles. He maintains. Jadzia comes forward then facing the lot of them next to Commander Sisko and he makes sure not to let his face betray anything but curiosity. Odo’s focus shifts back to both Leeta and Quark with that thinly veiled suspicion. That’s right, Odo, keep looking at them and keep suspecting. You’ll never figure it out anyway and even if you do not a single one of them can speak the words, I’ve seen to that. Julian keeps one eye on Odo, the other on Jadzia as she starts talking, allocating only as much attention as necessary to follow along. How many do we have now, my little lark? A dozen? A hundred? You said the work was going well- the writings from “The First Disciple” were favorably received amongst the younger ones here. They’re eager, they’re hungry, they’re practically gagging for it- for me to lead them to the promised land.
Julian is sure to keep his eyes trained upwards, not too intently focused, even letting himself look at Commander Sisko as much as seems necessary. The report from Liz was favorable as to the number of Starfleet officers who share our vision. You’re so naïve, Commander if you find yourself surprised by defections from men like Lieutenant Commander Hudson. Starfleet raises us to walk a fine line between zealotry for justice and exploration and it’s so easy if one knows the right buttons to push- especially when one has access to all the tests, the psychological profiles and knows how to read between the lines for potential allies. Yes, all of you can keep watching. You won’t find anything- Liz and I have chosen far too carefully. But as for Garak to-
   “I need to borrow your bodies.” It takes him far less time than anyone can observe with their eyes but Julian snaps back into full vivid focus as soon as Jadzia’s words reach his ears. He opens his mouth and closes it again. Time seems to move too slowly to intercede with further conversation as everyone else jumps in before he can. And Jadzia explains- rationally, calmly, precisely- the consummate science officer. But far from mollifying his concerns, the possibilities, the potential for disaster only grows in his mind. If you think for one moment- If you think for one bloody microsecond that you’re getting anywhere near my head… If you think that you and that worm are going to be privy to every secret space in my psyche the lot of you are mad as a bag of frogs. Stay the hell away from my head Jadzia because I like you and I don’t want this to get… breathe Jules… breathe, dammit. Relax.
   Julian hasn’t realized how evident his panic is until Jadzia lays eyes on him in particular with an empathic smile.
“I had hoped you would be amenable to taking this journey with me, Julian, but I’ll understand if you’re not able,” Jadzia says. Her use of what he thinks of as his former name infuriates him instantly. Julian blinks a few times to let that emotion pass, resettling in the seat self-consciously. “I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t be disappointed but I won’t pressure you.” He wishes that all eyes weren’t suddenly on him. This was a mistake. You never should’ve agreed to this meeting. For all you knew they were going to shove you in a sack and ship you off to The Institution. And now you’re actually thinking about it, aren’t you? Julian looks her in the eyes and swallows. Just say yes. Just say yes and forget all of this. It’s not too late for you. You can go back. You can go back to your friends and your life and forget you ever wanted any of this nonsense before anyone gets hurt and-
And then it comes to him in a moment of clarity when Leeta places a gentle hand on his shoulder whispering “Jules.” Her voice is sympathetic- to him sickeningly so. Julian feels his stomach roil, feels an instinctive bodily recoil and he swallows bile at the back of his throat. You see it now, don’t you? It’s too late, Jules. You can’t go back and it’s stupid to even want to. They’ve never liked you. They’ve always hated you. They pretend because they feel sorry for the sniveling mess you project but friends? Don’t delude yourself. If you break now, if you come crawling back to them you’ll never live it down. They’ll laugh at you like they always have- like you’ve always allowed them to. You don’t have any friends but Miles now and you can’t be sure of him yet, either. This is a trap. It has to be a trap to let your guard down so they can pick you apart and rape your mind and you’re about to walk right into their hands, you fool!
Julian knows what he has to do but the thoughts pouring in aren’t letting up.
“I…” Julian places his hand over Leeta’s, feeling himself shake, feeling himself gripping her hand tighter, knuckles white until she finally lets go of his shoulder with a look of pain. She doesn’t dare correct his action. Julian turns away, seeing Odo’s face first watching him, seeing Kira watching him and as he feels the rest of the eyes on him it makes him feel like he’s under a glass for scrutiny. Julian’s eyes finally fall to Miles out of desperation. Dammit, Jules you know what you have to do, it’s not hard. It sticks in his throat. Julian feels a tightness in his throat and he makes the plea with his eyes that he can’t seem to accomplish any other way. Help me… If I really am more than just your drinking buddy or the damn doctor you have to get them away from me you have to-
   Miles, doesn’t let him down.
“Much as Jules would like to help, I think this is just one of those things, yeah?” Julian swallows and feels as if he might pass out from a feeling a sudden lightheadedness. He sees as he bows his head and peers up from his peripheral vision that they take the words to heart like gospel. Julian feels the dizziness recede. He feels calm. There is a certain magic to hearing his name being spoken that brings him clarity in place of doubt. They say the name is one of the most powerful weapons one can wield but by God… His head clears and he looks again to Jadzia and Commander Sisko with a nod taking care not to appear too immediately recovered.
“Right… you have my deepest apologies, but I’m afraid that as the Chief says this is just one of those things…” he trails off unsteadily, the contrived frailty challenging any of them to contradict. Julian sits back, drawing a knee up to his chest thoughtfully. It’s a childish gesture that he is aware outwardly reinforces the delicate state of his psyche and fights the urge to smile. It’s nothing but an old affectation but they don’t know that. Only Odo, looks at him with a bit more suspicion but that’s quickly forgotten in favor of Quark whining “why should the doctor get a pass?”
   “I’m sure, Major,” Commander Sisko cuts in smoothly leaving Quark to complain to thin air, “Jake would be more than happy to fill in as we’d already discussed.” Disappointed, but understanding, Julian catches Jadzia nod out of the corner of his eye before the conversation begins anew. He tunes it out entirely, tipping his head back and shutting his eyes to refocus. They all make their excuses for him. This time he has to bite his lower lip to keep from laughing out loud. He settles for a smile they all can read as thanks for sympathizing with his condition. Yes, pity the poor broken doctor, all of you. I’ll be the one laughing when the dust finally settles.
   The door chimes as Julian is in the middle of changing out of the Starfleet uniform and he swears under his breath. Garak is early. Julian pauses as he stands in front of the mirror with his hands behind his back on the clasp of the bra. He takes a deep breath and lets every scenario rush through like an old reel of film silently playing. Julian wonders why the mere thought of Garak’s presence in his room has him so discomfited. He cannot seem to concentrate properly no matter how hard he tries. It has to be Garak. Whatever distraction he’s causing- whatever disruption in your psyche has to stop, Jules. But he’s been avoiding me. Why has he been avoiding me? It doesn’t matter. You don’t care. You can’t afford to care about anything going on inside the damn spy’s head. Julian takes careful pains to neatly fold the Starfleet Uniform- its very sight tempts him to leave it balled up on the floor with the rest of the discards.
Whatever the hell happened in your quarters, Garak, I’ve barely seen hide or hair of you and now you have to be fucking- He hears the second chime still not quite certain how he’s going to handle this. Julian bangs a fist on the sink. Don’t over think it, Juli- Jules! Jules, can’t you even remember your own name now?! He looks at himself in the mirror just long enough to see that he in no way resembles Doctor Julian Bashir. See. The doctor doesn’t have long hair. The Starfleet sheep doesn’t do anything more than roll out of bed let alone keep the careful pattern of facial hair. The clean cut Julian Bashir doesn’t wear makeup or women’s clothing, right? Right that’s more like it. Now, Leeta said your best shot at getting the station security codes and the clearance you need is the Legate. Legate… ugh, what the hell ever his name is they all sound the bleeding same anyway. He’s the only one that won’t tell you to sod off the second you contact him so you better remember his damn name.
“And how are we going to accomplish all of this Jules?” he says to himself turning to stare at the clothes littering the bathroom and beyond. “We’re going to let him bugger us senseless because Quark said- after you’d agreed to let him gouge you on his ‘finder’s fee’- the Legate had and still has amongst other things a weakness for feisty Bajoran women and…” Julian picks up one of innumerable replicated garments with a frown. No this won’t do either. He throws the mesh top over his shoulder with a huff. There’s a third chime as Julian reaches for a short synthetic blue skirt. “Can you wait one fucking minute longer I’ll be right there!” He doesn’t realize he’s ripped the garment neatly in two at the seam until he finds himself staring stupidly at the pieces. “Calm the hell down already, Jules. You can’t keep letting him get to you like this you need him.
“If there’s one man here that can make the outfit- that can turn your already dashingly handsome- superbly sexy self into an exotic and tawdry creature that will be alluring and unusual enough to catch the man’s attention it’s Garak.” And you need the thing yesterday. The Defiant is going to be going on patrol soon and you need to time everything just right. There are no second chances- the man agreed to meet you on a total farce that Quark cooked up. He’s the only non-hostile one in the government not hiding under his bed for whatever’s spooked the lot of them and… “The hell with it,” Julian mutters darkly. He settles on slipping an oversized cream colored tunic over his head. It’s too large- he’s no tailor as the last few days of replicated failures prove- but it’s comfortable. The gold chain linked belt adds a bit more shape anyways. There’s a pair of black leggings draped over the sink and Julian throws them on hurriedly as well. He leaves the undergarments alone.
“Come in.” Julian unties his hair as he finally exits the bathroom, shaking it out in a wild mass of dark shoulder length waves. He looks up just as the door opens and the sight of Garak standing there smartly dressed in a long mustard yellow shirt nearly throws all the plans out the window. You should test whether or not the drug worked. That wayward thought slips in just as Garak does. Julian’s mouth feels dry. The ring was empty but as little as you can remember that doesn’t mean a damn thing. Just a little test… a little playing won’t hurt anything and if Garak is with us instead of against us … Julian looks Garak up and down as he steps into the foyer. No, a little playing won’t hurt at all to be sure he actually did ingest it. You have to be sure Jules, we absolutely must be sure. Right?
Julian’s eyes then follow Garak’s to the mess and he frowns as he sees his own quarters with new eyes. There are clothes strewn about the main living area as well, dishes not properly put back into the replicator, and no end to the datapads. There’s also a broken glass on the dining table that somehow escaped his attention in the grander scheme of… ensuring Leeta’s compliance hastily swept into a pile of shards. The chair on the other side of the coffee table lies tipped over from a fit or sex and Julian has no idea why it didn’t occur to him until this moment how his living space must seem to an outsider. He tries to recall how many have been inside his quarters before when they were still tidy. It couldn’t have been many. A slew of forgettable women who are no longer on station- no one who should be coming back and who the hell is he to judge after the mess he made of his own room when he was- Julian’s annoyance fades when Garak’s eyes turn back to him.
He runs fingers through his tangled hair with an apologetic look as he mentally prepares himself. Alright, Jules, you need to make sure you get this costume exactly right. Who cares if he’s looking at you? If he’s… looking at you in a way he never used to. That’s the way he’s supposed to be looking at you. That’s the way they’re all supposed to look at us, dammit. We’re not the doctor. We don’t need to follow after him sniffing his arse like a stray dog.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to forgive the mess I haven’t had time to properly put things away.” He quickly throws several replicated shirts off the couch hiding his face as he ducks his head and concentrates on the task at hand. Test? What are you thinking there’s no way you can assume such a risk just because you want to- “There’s been a lot going on in the infirmary. I’m afraid Leeta’s been quite ill and I’ve been splitting my time between here and there...” He kicks a clear space in front of the sofa and looks up feeling a slight flush to his face as Garak’s eyes fall briefly to the tunic slipping off one shoulder.
Knock it off, you’re not some simpering maiden, you are not going to act like this every time he looks at you. Julian nearly forgets to breathe as Garak focuses on the white strap and the round of his shoulder the mental chastisement completely forgotten already. Julian almost pulls the top back up but that focus makes him reconsider. If it gets his attention if it holds it, if it distracts him then the plan will… Yes… right… the plan. Julian slowly walks closer determining that he can only stay on balance if he moves quickly and keeps the ball in his court. He tips his head to the side, letting his shoulder drop, letting the tunic slide just a little more trying to work Garak’s rare reticence to his advantage. “And yet in spite of all that, Garak it still seems as if you’re the one who’s been absent.” Nice, Jules. That sounds far less seductive and far more petulant. What next, are you going to tug as his sleeve and ask him to buy you a lolly?
   Garak still doesn’t say anything- it’s beginning to make Julian uneasy. He isn’t sure if he’s said something incorrectly or if Garak is offended by his disheveled state. Julian shifts from one foot to another mentally berating himself for being so hang dog about any potential censure when Garak places a hand on his shoulder. The effect is instantaneous. Julian freezes mid step and barely hides a hitch in his breath as Garak’s thumb gently strokes the lace of the strap. Oh god…
“I’ve always found the delicacy of human lacework an art to be admired but the replicator hardly does the gros pointe justice.” Garak strokes the lace twined strap with a feather light delicacy. Julian stares ahead to the closed door trying to remember what breathing feels like.
“I... I’m sorry?”
“If I’ve been remiss in our… friendship, my dear, you have my deepest apologies,” Garak says making an abrupt subject change. Julian can still only nod dumbly as every sense seems to dull but for the warmth of Garak’s slightly calloused palm and the scent of something akin to faint clove… intermingled with that indeterminable something that is only Garak.
   “Well I… I can hardly expect to be the center of your universe,” Julian says with an emotion that he finds surprising as he speaks. Those eyes, tearing away from the door unconsciously follow Garak’s arm as the hand drops back to his side. Julian barely stops himself from grabbing that hand and just holding it tightly to his face.
“Nor I yours,” Garak says with a shake of his head that seems inexplicably regretful, “but as you’ve said you’ve been quite… busy as of late.” His usual gregarious expression returns looking almost mocking to Julian. “But you needn’t concern yourself. Constable Odo has proven a quite worthy replacement as my dining companion although I find he lacks your voracious appetite.”
“I’m sure the good Constable has many fine qualities,” Julian answers with a tight smile finding his mind shifting gears yet again. Does he know? Do they both? No… no there’s no bloody way because I was far too careful... It’s in that moment Julian turns to ask Garak to sit when he notices the datapad no longer appears to be where he left it. No worries, just give yourself a second to-
   “You’ll have to join us sometime when you’re not so involved in extracurricular activities. I think you’d find our topics of discussion enlightening.”
“Would I?” Julian murmurs head whipping back and forth almost comically. Why the devil can’t I remember where the damn thing is? He’s not paying half as much attention to Garak as he should instead touching his own shoulder unconsciously, trying to scan the entirety of the room. Christ you were looking at the thing before you left for your shift, Julian. Nonono not Julian Jules. Jules! You lost the pad. You lost track of Garak’s activity you can’t even remember your name why is he still talking?!
“Indeed.” Garak’s eyes follow his. “I myself have learned a great many things about the station that were quite surprising.”
   “I’m afraid you’re going to need to give me a moment here.” Julian turns and quickly goes through a pile of datapads intermingled with clothes on the computer terminal before dashing over to the dining table. Garak either doesn’t hear him or ignores him as he continues talking taking a few steps further to the sitting area.
“Did you know, for example, that there is a looking glass in Gocke’s that has been engineered not to display anything living that stands in front of it?” Julian doesn’t look up as he follows the terminal around to the dining table with quick efficiency tossing hosiery and a rather obscene pair of black panties.
“Uh huh...” God I know Cardassians love the sound of their own voices but if you’d stop talking for five seconds I could remember where I put it.
Julian moves from one end to the other shoving a chair out of the way. Garak continues to smile at him serenely.
“I haven’t had opportunity to see it for myself but I’m told it’s an impressive sight.” Julian’s attention goes next to the coffee table and another stack of datapads there. It has to be here. You don’t forget anything. You vault it under lock and key but you sure as hell don’t- “It’s as if anyone looking into it were completely invisible.” Julian hurries over, in his haste nearly missing the tipped over chair. “I’m told it has to do with an array of sensors and an internal holoprojector but I’m no engineer.” Stepping over the fallen furniture is an automatic reaction as he looks at Garak no longer able to hide his frustration.
“Why are you blathering on about a-”
Julian trips. Or rather he easily avoids the chair and even twists his body to avoid knocking into the terminal; he doesn’t see the datapad on the floor as his foot comes down. The pad slips out from under him and while his arms are already out to catch himself and push back up in a fluid motion, he does not take into account one Elim Garak standing in the way. Julian’s eyes are wide as he finds himself falling into Garak- not crashing the both of them to the floor- neatly, effectively, caught.
“Surely you can at least see the entertainment value,” Garak says not letting go of him. Julian’s face screws up unsure if Garak is poking some weird sort of fun at him. His hands are on Garak’s shoulders and while he hurriedly thinks to disengage his entirely body is rigidly still.
Garak is holding him around the waist. Their bodies are pressed flush together and it makes Julian realize how precious little he’s wearing. And when your body recovers from the shock… Oh god. Oh god oh god you need to just push him away already movemovemove!
“Wh-what?” Julian’s voice is an embarrassing squeak and his eyes dart to Garak’s neck with the maddened impulse to bury his face so Garak can’t see him. Instead he drops his hands, arms forcing a modicum of space between their chests as he insinuates them as if to push Garak away. Julian doesn’t push him away. His hands- his sweat dampened palms remain shaking and Julian tries to turn himself even just a little to hide the rapid swelling of his cock. There’s no way… there is no way that he doesn’t…
“Say,” Garak moves his right hand and with painfully gentle guiding fingers to his cheek, turns Julian head to look at him directly.
“If I were the mirror,” Julian’s fingers curl into the thick material of Garak’s shirt, his teeth biting tongue, cheek, anything to stop the arousal- the adrenaline from feverishly pulsing. “And you were standing in front of me.” Garak brushes aside Julian’s hair, exposing his face completely. You would be,” Julian- mind panic white- cannot imagine what Garak is seeing, what he is feeling, what he thinks he would be. Garak leans in and as Julian thinks, with pounding, dreadful certainty that Garak is going to kiss him, Garak speaks softly enough that his breath is a taunting tremble over his lips. “You are… completely transparent.” Julian can do nothing but focus his eyes entirely on Garak’s in that moment and he thinks that if he so much as pokes his tongue out to lick his lips, his won’t be the only ones he tastes.
“You’re… not a mirror,” is the only thing his wits can manage.
“And yet, just like that, my dear. I can see right through you.” Julian holds back a nervous swallow almost falling over when Garak releases him. And without anything further, Garak straightens the tunic on his shoulder, with a small chiding for his lacking sense of color. Julian feels dizzy as if he might pass out. Something had to have happened that night. That damn night you can’t remember because you let your guard down and passed out like some lush could ruin everything. Fix this, Julian. Now.
“I…” Nothing easily comes to him. Julian doesn’t understand why Garak keeps leaving him so off balance. “I just hope you don’t prefer his company to mine…” Julian trails off, his mind still somehow several steps back in the conversation. What are you doing? This isn’t how this is supposed to be going at all. You’re not supposed to be falling all over yourself like the doctor, you’re not like that. You’re nothing like that. Julian shakes his yes, and tries to refocus.
Garak is already walking over to the couch and taking a seat.
“Gocke? I’ve only had the pleasure of his acquaintance at the few meetings of the Merchant’s Association that I’ve attended.” Julian hides a wince once more acutely feeling the discomfort of his fading hardness as he tries to answer in a voice that’s halfway normal.
“Odo. Constable Odo, Garak.” He practically runs to the coffee table, putting his back to Garak remembering that he still needs to find the datapad. Julian bends over trying to will himself back into a state where he can focus as he continues the search discarding one datapad after another faster than any normal human should be able to parse the contents. Julian doesn’t care. There’s no way he didn’t notice that. Why hasn’t he said anything? Surely he’d not be sitting down so calmly if you offended him. What do you want from me, Garak? What are you doing to me?
He stares at the empty table top, palms flush on the surface with his head down. Just take a moment. The hell with him just take a moment to think. You can’t let this get to you. You can’t keep second guessing. You’ve never doubted yourself. You never doubted your abilities, your power…. Julian almost jumps like a cat when he hears Garak speaking again. He knocks over another glass and stifles a curse as water splashes the floor.
“You’ll forgive me for allowing myself to be so sidetracked since my arrival. Certainly your enlightening company is reward itself, my dear, but I believe you asked me here on a matter of business?” Garak’s voice behind him is so solicitous it makes Julian want to pick the glass up and throw it at his head.
“I should think it’s quite obvious.” Julian makes a sweep of his arm to indicate the complete state of disarray the room is in. He still sounds far too breathless and speaks more slowly, more deliberately to try and mask it. “You can see how desperately I need you.” He tries not allow himself to think about what just happened. Julian himself doesn’t even know and he needs time that he doesn’t have. There’s a pregnant pause and Julian takes the opportunity to close his eyes and replay his morning instead of considering his words. He forgets entirely his position bent over the coffee table.
“Yes, it’s quite obvious indeed,” Garak answers with a murmur that almost as heated- Julian only barely hears the words. He hears none of the tone.
“What?” Julian stands up and turns around, pinching the bridge of his nose as the blood rushes to his head all at once.
   “Your need, of course, is terribly obvious.” Garak explains in a completely normal voice. He too makes a sweeping gesture towards the mess. “And while I certainly hate to disappoint, I’m afraid my talents lie more to the manufacture of clothes than their cleanup.” Julian laughs softly as his vision clears, sitting down on the sofa considering the ridiculousness of the situation. He decides if Garak is willing to pretend none of that had happened he can play that game too. Alright Jules, now stop laughing. If you start you might very well not be able to stop and you can describe it to him without the damn sketches if you have to. He swallows the next bit of laughter.
“Much as I’m sure that I could use a maid, that’s hardly why I need your services…”
Julian tries to think of the best way to broach the subject when he turns and sees a datapad in Garak’s hand. It’s in that same moment he notices Garak parsing it carefully, the sketches on brilliant display. There occurs in that moment a point in which his mind has been stressed enough that he is beyond an immediate impulsive reaction. Instead, Julian pulls his right leg up to his chest before he kicks the offending thing across the room. He doesn’t allow himself to consider how long Garak might have had it. It wouldn’t surprise him if he’s somehow even had it from the start. Julian swallows the hysterical laughter. It’s no longer the white panic that he sees but a blank blackness like space stretching out behind him. He isn’t sure if that’s good but he seizes it nonetheless to focus holding up a finger in the hopes that Garak will give him an unquestioning moment of calm. He doesn’t know why but Garak does.
Ten... nine... eight... seven... the seven main biological themes are cellular organization, reproduction, metabolism, homeostasis, heredity, evolution, interdependence... He draws a slow breath and he closes his eyes, opens them- resumes normal blinking. Seven point three six five is the proper PH of blood regulation for homeostasis in humans... six... five... Regulate pulse, respiration... Calm. Down. Jules. He stops at four and looks at Garak coyly with a lazy yawn.
“You said should I find myself in need of new attire that I should come to you first.” Julian smiles as his tone turns teasing. See, Garak. I’m the one in control here. Not you. You had tour chance and now it’s my turn. “As you can see in spite of a mass of efforts that have yielded nothing but a dreadful mess I find myself in need of a professional.” Julian rests his head on his knee, watching Garak from a whimsical sideways view curious to see if he’ll give anything away. My game. My world. Me me me.
   Garak’s face is the picture of said professional as he studies the drawings and Julian is slightly disappointed that his face reveals nothing. He catches the flicker of Garak’s focus from the datapad to his own attire and he tries not to overthinking the repercussions.
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Garak says making no move either closer or further away. “But this would appear to be twenty second century earth neo classical nineteenth century revival popular amongst the youth counter culture movement…” He looks thoughtful and Julian is impressed in spite of himself. “Steampunk, I believe though humans come up with such abstract names for so many cultural affectations I may be wrong...” Garak looks at him quite smugly then and they both know he is completely correct. Julian, for his part, lifts his head up looking honestly in awe.
“You really knew that,” is out of his mouth with wonder as if he were once more the doctor. He blinks a few times in confusion digesting his own tone and comment with disbelief. Garak’s play neatly cleaves his in half.
   Julian doesn’t notice Garak’s expression change just for a moment with the slip up as he quickly drops his knee and rubs his sweaty palm nervously over his pant legs.
“I am of course, a tailor, doctor and on a station such as this I’ve found it useful to familiarize myself with even the most unlikely of fashions.” Garak’s attention is back to the datapad, his mouth pursed in what seems to be complete scrutiny as if to give Julian privacy to panic unnoticed. “Although if I may ask as a point of cultural reference, was it customary for this period to interchange gender specific archetypes? That seems unlikely given what I little I know of Earth history.”
   Julian’s eyes narrow cautiously but Garak still isn’t looking at him. He’s still reviewing the series of sketches hardly paying any notice. Julian nibbles thoughtfully on the tip of his finger as he parses several answers, sitting back on the couch only catching Garak out of the corner of his eye as he stares at the ceiling. There are so many ways to answer that, Julian you have to be careful here. Whatever the legate finds fitting to his appetites are hardly the standard for the whole damn race and if you bollocks this up... But you have an opportunity. You have a chance to actually ferret something out of Garak for a change even if it is only in his reaction and you were too wrapped up in yourself back there to even consider if he was… if he was-
“You’re right, of course.” Julian decides in favor of boldness. “It is still considered an abnormality for a man to don women’s apparel in most situations. Some might even say it’s a perversion but rather I find…” It’s then he notices a quick flicker of Garak’s eyes to his neck, those eyes trailing over to the thin sliver of strap and Julian feels a heat that’s nearly palpable. It hadn’t occurred to him until now that Garak might in fact have been as excited as him. He knows the thought should not please him the primal, visceral way that he does. Julian can feel it pooling, rising, and he crosses his right leg over his left to try and relieve a small bit of the pressure. He cannot be sure if Garak is truly watching him or if it’s nothing but sexually fevered imagining. He squirms ever so slightly.
Whatever the case, Julian does not dare let on that he notices the attention instead trailing his fingers from his mouth down over his lower lip as if still contemplating the finished thought. Give me something, Garak, just a little more, God just give it to me already. Julian’s fingers dance down over his chin, careful to still keep his eyes primarily on the ceiling even as he passes his hand down his throat- to his bare collarbone. Nothing. He can’t wait any longer.
“I find life without a little sexual deviance to be utterly boring.” Fingers circle the hollow of his throat. “I find a certain excitement in pushing those carefully established boundaries. I find…” His voice has a slight dreamy quality to it as the confession spills forth. “I find there to be a certain alluring ultra-sexualization contained within a tube of cherry red lipstick.”
Julian watches out of his peripheral vision almost suffocating himself so as not to miss a single flicker or sound. He almost thinks the entire series of events has been nothing but a licentious delusion until he sees Garak drop his eyes more deliberately to the datapad and grip it harder. Yes that’s it. You don’t need to say it. You don’t need to tell me. I don’t know what I’d do if you’d reacted differently but you like it, right? You have to like it, Garak or what the hell is the use of-
“Blue.” Garak sets the datapad down on the seat between them no longer looking at him. Julian hates that he’s too afraid to sit up and face him head on because he wants to question the meaning of that word. The beating of his heart, the sudden lightheadedness makes him wonder if every last bit of his blood hasn’t rushed downward. Julian’s throat constricts and he realizes that he’s still holding his breath. “I would see you in a brilliant metallic blue,” Garak whispers with a shaky breath.
   “Of course, I feel a certain obligation to tell you,” he continues with the next breath so calmly that Julian is convinced he completely imagined Garak’s reserve falter. “that the price you’ll find yourself paying for… what you’re seeking might be higher than you’re willing to accept.” Julian takes a deep breath try and steady the anger he feels at the perceived challenge. You’re still toying with me. You’re still underestimating me. What was that back there then? A game? More lies? He feels a sense of déjà vu and sees that pulse red. I have to do this. Julian looks at Garak, lips tight as he sits up. he doesn’t dare look away. You can read me? You know me so well, Garak. Why don’t we just see who’s in over their damn head. And why shouldn’t I test you? Why shouldn’t I use you? If you’re loyal. If you really are under my control then I’m holding all the cards no matter what you think you know. Yes, that’s it Julian, you’re better than this. And if it fails... if you have to bow and scrape or let him bugger you… bend over the table for far more than a stupid datapad begging him to… Julian fidgets with the chains feeling blood rushing back everywhere at once. He licks his lips. Yes, that would be absolutely awful, now, wouldn’t it?
   “I think you’ll find that I’m willing to do anything to get what I want, Garak,” Julian answers softly, dangerously. “How soon can you work something up?” He sees Garak pouring over the datapad once more, his own gaze moving to focus intently over his shoulder on the window outside behind them. There is an entire universe out there. And here you sit waiting to pull divinity from the heavens and take your seat amongst the highest celestial Parnassus- waiting for one tailor to finish reading one stupid datapad only to give you a number. Time. Time is far too short and time like death is for those who lack the mettle to conquer them both. But for now Julian, you have less than a few weeks before Sisko and the others will be off station and you need to account for your own necessary infection from Leeta’s in order to be sick enough to stay behind. No one of any substance will be here to witness your recovery once you give yourself the antidote and you can always feign a little weakness and coughing if need be-
   “I should have a timetable for you in the morning,” Garak says abruptly and stands before Julian even finishes turning around. “If there’s nothing further…” What? Julian cannot hide the panicked look that escapes him. Did he just? No… no not like this. Not all this buildup, this anxiety for this dammit!. Nothing clever immediately comes to mind and all he can do is yell a hurried, “Garak, wait!” before Garak practically runs out the door with him chasing behind like a pathetic child. Julian is unable to meet Garak’s sharp eyes when he stops and turns back around. He doesn’t see the look of crumbling restraint. He doesn’t see the look of desire- of disappointment. Julian doesn’t notice anything but the pounding rush of blood from rising so quickly and the cacophony of screaming chaos inside his head as he tries to think of any one thing that will keep Garak there. “I…” What the hell are you doing?! You can’t do this. You have to do the test. You need to let him leave before he suspects. He can’t leave! You can’t risk this. You can’t do this. I don’t want to be alone. You can’t leave me here by myself! Dammit I can’t be alone! “Iamthekey!”
   The loudness of Julian’s voice surprises even himself. He nearly jumps, both hands coming up over his mouth as if he could call the words back- as if he were a child caught by his parents saying a dirty word. Julian feels suddenly nauseous and lightheaded pressing the hands over his mouth harder. He can feel the tremble of his fingers and waits for time to stop its slow crawl and speed back to normal. His legs are weak and as his eyes remain hyper focused in terror on Garak he finally sinks to his knees looking up. Julian almost closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to face Garak standing in front of him staring, looking down. Julian keeps looking at Garak’s dark brown shoes until the texture blurs in front of his eyes and tears pinprick his dry retinas. Julian cannot properly quantify if his perception has sped beyond the human or if Garak is really taking this long to answer him. Julian holds his breath feeling as if he’s going to hyperventilate.
“I am the lock,” comes from Garak’s lips in a perfect monotone just as Julian finally dares to look up- just as he finally resolves to shove him out the door, throw every piece of furniture he can move, and hide under the covers to keep the demons at bay. Julian drops his hands, once more wiping them on his leggings. The tunic is still slipping sinfully off his shoulder but he lets it remain. He takes a shuddering breath as he stands back up nearly shaking for an entirely different reason this time. It still works....
Julian steps back eyes bright with a feverish excitement.
“Well then… let’s get started, shall we?”
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