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

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
- 9
Chapter Eight
I never committed violence myself. It was always done to me. But now my fate was in my own hands and I couldn’t even ask to use the holosuite. They all look at me like that. Like they could smell the sickness on me. They’re disturbed by the disjoint between their dispassion for me and their obligation to help. If I could just find a way, this could be over for everybody. That obligation will pass along with me into silence under the chatter of life. How could I do this? If only there was someone else…
The shops were still open. I wandered in search of a large bag. I could not find one the right size, but I was able to find the materials to make what I needed.
I remembered when Dukat had taken me for new clothes and thought of Garak. I never did buy anything from him. I wasted his time trying on things only to walk out. I headed over to his shop and peered in. It seemed to be empty.
“Tamir! What a pleasant surprise. What can I do for you?”
“I’d like to buy something.” I picked at my fingers as I wandered towards him, glancing around at the racks.
“Oh! By all means! What were you thinking of?”
“I don’t know. Do you have any recommendations?”
“Are you looking for casual or formal wear?” I looked down.
“Something nice, I suppose…”
“Let’s see…” He moved towards one of the racks. Garak featured some nicer styles, first those of Bajor. I felt lost as I looked at all the garments as he described them. I didn’t know how to choose. They were nice, but which was for me, a person who shouldn’t wear any of these in the first place? The guilt ate at me, knowing how I’d disgrace his work. I’d wear it just to ruin it. I thought about leaving, it would be the right thing to do, but I couldn’t waste his time again. And that’s what this visit had been all about: making up for his wasted time last time. Though I didn’t deserve it and it would ultimately be a disrespect to him, I had to buy something.
I expressed my indecision to him and begged his guidance. He brought me back to the first Bajoran garments he’d shown me, out of all the lovely things he had, and recommended one of those. It was as if he was gifting my culture back to me. A culture the Cardassians tried to take from me. A culture my people didn’t think I deserved anymore.
I felt the soft cloth between my fingers before I tried it on.
I emerged, self-conscious and guilty, twisting the sleeve hems between my fingers.
“Marvellous!”
“You think so?” I felt silly standing there for his approval of something that had nothing to do with him.
“Yes, you look stunning my friend.” My brows furrowed as I glanced down.
“Thank you…”
“If I may, what’s the occasion?” I pulled at my sleeves, rolling the fabric between my fingers.
“You’ll see.”
“Oh,” he raised his brows, “a surprise? Well, I can’t wait to find out.” I smiled.
“Yeah…”
He packaged my new garment and presented it to me. “It was a pleasure doing business with you,” he offered his hand for a shake. I gently grasped it, meeting his gaze, and felt strangely connected to him. As if I’d come out of a fog and was being seen for the first time. Really seen. Garak didn’t seem to look through me, but at me. I could see myself occupying his thoughts, though why I’d be important enough to pay attention to, I didn’t know. In his line of sight, I became a person, not a thing. Despite feeling undeserving, I wanted to stay there forever. In this space where suddenly I was someone. Not just pretending to be, not just a thing, but someone.
I nearly broke upon him and spilled all of my wretched self at his feet during those mere moments that to me lasted an eternity. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Though he offered me something I so desperately wanted, I knew my place. I knew my worth—and lack thereof. I knew I wanted far more than I should ever have, than I should ever expect him to give. On my last day, I could not bear to see him driven away by my true pathetic self. I kept my composure, so I could selfishly bask in this illusion of being more than a meaningless, transparent operator.
That eternity that spanned but a moment ended and he released before I was ready to part. “I wish you a pleasant evening.”
“You too. Thank you so much.” I felt colder.
“Anytime.”
I left, disappearing back into the fog where I belonged.
-*-
I spent hours tightly stitching my long bag together, new outfit hanging up on the bathroom door. When I was about finished, I laid in it to make sure I got it right before installing the zipper. I took a short break to rest my fingers before working on the note.
Finally, I dressed, trying to see myself the way Garak saw me. For as much as I tried, I couldn’t think of myself as looking nice in it, only that the garment itself looked nice. I looked away from my face and instead focused on the clothes. I felt sorry for how I was using them. They deserved to be on someone better. Someone who’d wear it more than once.
I set the various gifts Gul Dukat had given me over the course of his visits on the table with my note propped up against them. I sat alone at my table with a glass of kanar. I sipped until I felt funny, then I sipped a little more.
I slipped into the bag and zipped it to my chest. I looped a sash around my throat and tied it tight enough. I could still breathe a little, but the blood flow had been constricted. I zipped the bag up the rest of the way and closed my eyes. Pressure grew in my head. I felt heavy. Like I was sinking into a pool with a large stone on my chest. It was calming. Soothing silence. Freeing myself in my cold, empty room. Under no one’s watchful gaze. Just my own diminishing thoughts. Knowing that it was finally over.
- 7
- 8
- 9
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Occupation of the Mind