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Limitless	By : CyreliaJ Category: Star Trek > Deep Space 9 Views: 2153 -:- 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: This story is a rather dark "what if" exploring the idea of a Dr. Bashir who wasn't quite so fortunate with the surgery for his genetic enhancements as he was in the show. A warning for violence, sex, language, and OOCness. I'm writing this as an alternate reality but still following the same events as the series. Main pairing is Garak/Bashir with a few side smatterings of Julian Bashir/other men/women. C&C is always welcome especially if my science and other canon is totally awful. Thanks!
Limitless
By Cyrelia J

Prologue

The promenade is empty. That’s the first thing that Doctor 'Julian Bashir notices when he opens his eyes. The second thing he notices is the complete and utter silence.
“Hello?!” The memory of the Lethean’s attack is still fresh in his mind as he walks towards Quark’s Bar. He steels himself, expecting to see the Ferengi cowering behind the bar beneath a violent assault. Julian swallows with those hesitant steps but forces himself to enter. There’s no noise, no disruption, nothing but quiet. The bottles behind the bar are neatly in place- every facet of the bar is photographically perfect. Julian looks up and counts the fasteners on the ceiling of the farthest sector. They’re exactly as he recalls they should be. He frowns; even his dreams lack this level of precision.
‘But if this isn’t a dream then the alternative is far worse…’

“Hello?!” He yells as loudly as he can and doesn’t register an accompanying thrum in his throat even as his ears replicate the sound exactly as he imagines it should be. ‘I’m not dreaming… but this can’t be reality as I know it either.’ Reliving his last route, Julian walks to the security office. The steps echo but his feet still don't quite feel the floor properly. It seems as if his palms ought to be sweaty as he imagines Garak somehow waiting there once again. 'But that wasn't really Garak now, was it?' There’s no moisture and seemingly no need for respiration and it only makes the questions grow exponentially in his mind. Julian's pulse accelerates- at least he thinks that it does- as he nears the security office. His footsteps seem to grow louder and yet his body feels exactly the same: static. Julian sees as he reaches the doorway that the office is as deserted as the rest of the station seems to be. He can’t help the way his eyes measure the dimensions of the opening.

‘Stop it.’ Julian forces his attention away. ‘It’s unnatural. It’s suspicious. All of it.’ He frowns as he steps through the doorway almost expecting some otherworldly presence. He senses nothing.
“Nothing?” Julian’s head jerks up abruptly as he hears his own voice speaking to him. No, that’s not his voice. ‘It can’t be…’
“Is that what I am now?” He looks past the main security office, back to the holding cells in the brig and against every instinct he has, he walks back. ‘It doesn’t matter. He’s locked away. All of that is still locked away.’ But he needs to be sure. Julian approaches the last cell almost holding his breath. It’s empty. “It’s funny. You calling me nothing.” Julian whirls as the voice is suddenly behind him and as ready as he’s told himself he would be in this situation he still takes a step back.
“How did you get out?” A mad part of him thinks as he looks at the figure in front of him how terribly cliché it is that the darker twin must always have some sort of facial hair- his other self seems equally amused.

“You were looking for him, weren’t you?” the other Julian asks with a playful grin as he stalks closer. Julian takes a deep breath but holds his ground as he meets that look of lazy seduction with a level stare.
“How. Did you get out?” he asks again firmly. He doesn’t retreat. He doesn’t cower. Still, he cannot help but flinch when the other Julian’s fingers brush the side of his face. That head cocks to the side, long bangs falling over his face in a manner that he himself would never allow- that and the damn ridiculous Dorian Grey beard. There’s a ghost of a memory just then of the depilatory etching over skin- of his own eyes looking into the mirror with cold confidence and he shoves it away. Julian turns his head from the touch and steps back.
“And I suppose this is where I ask another question that you in turn will ignore and the pattern will continue unto infinity or until I finally kill myself of bloody boredom.”
“You don’t belong out here.” Julian’s eyes shift to the holding cells.
“When you consider, doctor,” emphasized with predictable disdain, “That I am nothing more than a physical manifestation... say a personification of what you would term your ‘less desirable traits’ I don’t in fact ‘belong’ anywhere.” He crosses his arms and toys with a lock of hair not even looking at him. The coquettish gesture makes Julian anxious and he steps forward making to grab that wrist down.
“Would you stop that,” he hisses as if someone might see. His other self easily dances out of the way.
“Super human reflexes, remember? I am genetically flawless, after all.” That smile is mocking and Julian looks down at his own hand wondering why he was unable to catch a creature who should be his perfect equal.

The shadow Julian laughs in front of him. Again his eyes dart to the nearest holding cell.
"You could do it too, you know- if you weren't so afraid."
"Afraid?"
"Of your potential. My potential. What I am and what you should be."
“What you are,” Julian fires back with a frightening recollection, “is nothing more than a morally bankrupt monster.” He shakes his head feeling his heart beating faster as the memories flood his head as if they were truly his own. “You are a mistake. An aberration.” His face feels flush with anger and he feels more real than he has since he first opened his eyes. “You are... were one wrong step away from the Institution and I am Doctor Julian Bashir- a respected Starfleet doctor and I will never go back to being you!” This has to stop. ‘I have to make this stop.’ Julian rushes to the nearest holding cell desperate to open the door. The console feels like a plastic prop beneath his fingers and as he slams his palm against it in frustration it falls and clatters tot he ground with a hollow sound. He looks up sharply feeling the other behind him.
“It won’t work for you.” The playfulness is gone and Julian recognizes the practiced expression of menace and looks away. ‘It used to feel good, didn’t it, Julian. You liked it when they forced you to turn that look on. You loved reminding them that you were the one in control- that you were...’

“Open the door!” Julian yells turning around furiously.
“You never even checked the cells, doctor.” The words are spoken with disdain. “You never checked the security office. You never checked the monitors. You never even thought to make sure that ickle Jules was locked away in his nasty cage.” Those hands- those damn hands are on him again. Hands which should hold reverence for the lives them beneath them. Hands which should comfort and heal. ‘This isn’t you, Julian. These aren’t your damn hands, Julian. Lock him back up, Julian! Lock Jules back up!’ “That’s right, poppet, take the key and lock him up.” Julian shoves Jules away and runs to the next cell trying once again to open the door.

“The Lethean did far more damage than you let yourself realize, doctor.” Jules circles him idly and as he watches him out of the corner of his eye he recognizes the familiar expression, the disdainful face, that rotten… familiar face that he used to see in the mirror. ‘You don’t see that face any more when you look in the mirror... you don’t... you don’t want to see that face, Julian.’
“That’s right then. Go on and have a good look, doctor.” ‘Don’t look. Damn you, Julian if you ever had a brain in that head of yours.’ Julian looks. He drops his hands from the console and doesn’t realize that his palms are bruised, that his fingers are swollen.
“Do you really think...” Julian doesn’t see those dark cunning eyes. “...that anyone wants to see you?” He won’t feel that white hot invulnerability. Jules takes another step closer to him. “Do you really think...” He will not possess that innate sense of godliness ever again. “…that Elim Garak would ever want you as you are now?” But that bring him up short.
“We don’t have those sorts of desires!” His eyes are wide and the denial passes his lips without hesitation.
“You don’t have those sorts of desires, doctor.”

“They’re a liability. You know that as well as I do there are certain parameters of deviance that attract attention-“
“-and to step outside of them would invite attention that I can ill afford.” Jules finishes the sentence seeming to be far too close even five feet away. “Those aren’t your words, doctor. They’re mine. Nearly eleven years to the day I spoke those words when I-“
“When I-“ Julian swallows and closes his eyes. ‘I’m a good man. I’m an honorable man. I’m not you anymore. I don’t need to be you anymore.’
“But you want to.” Jules answers his every thought as if they’re spoken aloud. “Oh but they don’t want anyone in Starfleet who doesn’t fit the mold.” Jules hisses at him violently, angrily. “Your passion, your intellect, your genius… bugger all that. Who cares about all that when you have the nerve… the audacity… the fucking stones to freely express yourself… to freely love your fellow men and women and demand they see you for the god that you are. You are not an individual, Jules, you are part of the Starfleet collective and if you want to see the stars and change the world and be the goddamn savior of mankind you need to conform.”

“They want good, clean, law abiding men and women to be the face of the Federation, Jules. I believe that’s what the recruiter told you though perhaps not in so many words.” Julian turns just in time to see Odo step through the door of the brig.
“Is that what it says there, Constable?” Jules looks at the datapad in Odo’s hand calculating, and it almost feels as if he’s the one speaking. “Then I guess the doctor and I don’t really need to rehash that tired old story, do we?” Julian touches his lips just to reassure himself that he’s been silent the entire time.
“You know what it says, Jules. Doctor, I would suggest you leave this to me.”
“I don’t… are you sure that’s wise?” Julian hesitates. He looks back and forth between the both of them uncertainly.
“Is this the best you can do!?” Jules’ voice booms, and it seems to Julian that the walls shake. “No wonder the bloody Lethean almost killed you!” That voice overwhelms him and he can feel his legs start to buckle. Julian catches himself on the wall only then noticing that his hands are bleeding. Odo steps between the two of them.
“The console won’t work for you, Jules”

“Is that so?” Jules approaches them both confidently, stopping in front of Odo with a smirk. “Go ahead. Read the file. Read every damn line of it because I know what it says better than you do. And more importantly I know what it doesn’t say.”
“Go!”
“I…”
“Not good enough!” Julian doesn't react quickly enough but then again perhaps he never could. He feels the pull out of time and watches Jules moving effortlessly in that span. It's never worked that way in reality. Only his thought are ever so quick- only his mind works with such rapid motions in the blink of a second. 'That's it then. This isn't a dream or some altered reality. It's just like that attack.' It's the deepest part of his own conscious. He opens his mouth to scream- to warn even a fabricated Odo but even as he does there's nothing but a splash of warm liquid over him. Julian sinks to his knees covering his face, closing his eyes, shutting everything out for just long enough to try and think. ‘Snap out of it. This isn’t you. Get up! Open your eyes! Julian!’ He can’t breathe. He can’t move. He can’t stand and he can’t-

Jules is holding him. He feels his chest constricting as he struggles for breath.
"Get away from me!"
“Look at me.” The devil whispers in his head and it’s only as he feels himself falling into darkness that he finally opens his eyes and tries to break free.
"Get off me!"
"I said-"
"Stop it!"

The security office is gone. The Promenade is gone. Jules too, is gone. Julian stands up and lowers his hands. They're clean. He looks at his arms and feels his face and hair. Everything is dry. He sees the Starfleet uniform pressed, pristine, and smiles. Right then. It's all gone. It's all-
"Doctor!" He hears Garak's voice and realizes that he's in his old bedroom. He sees Kukalaka on the bed and thinks somewhat clinically that this must be the last safe place of his mind. Before the treatments, before the sense of wrongness, before Jules. He hears Garak's voice again and he can't quite remember why he's there. "I can't very well speak with you through the door." 'Right, the door.' Julian walks over and puts a hand on the knob still trying to remember why he's back in his room.
"This can't wait Garak?"
"No, I'm afraid the matter is rather urgent, doctor." Julian shakes his head and opens the door. Well of course Garak wouldn’t bother him unless it was something important.

He doesn't see Garak and tries to shut the door back again. But as soon as the door is open the memories flood him. Jules. Saint Julian. God. Garak. Everything.
"No." He tries again to shut the door more frantically but he can feel his joints growing more stiff and sluggish. 'Don't do this.' The world is stone. "Please!" Julian tries to close his eyes as the lights flicker out around him. He can't move. 'You can't do this!' His eyes are frozen. He opens his mouth again but it too has turned to marble. ‘It’s not real, Julian. Wake up.' He tries the door again but this time his hand stops on the knob. 'You’re just dreaming wake up! This isn’t real, Julian!’ He tries to turn and run. His knees are locked. His legs are heavy and somehow he can feel the weight of his own body heavy like a collapsing star as he crashes to the ground. He can’t even look up at Jules standing above him, his eyes only staring ahead at the two bare feet in front of him.
“You’re right of course.” Jules’ footsteps start to slowly fade away as he enters the room. Even so, his voice resonates in the emptiness of the eternal tomb. “This isn't real." Julian sees Kukalaka placed beside him and feels the bear's soft fur brush his face. "You’re not real, after all.” The light starts to go out around him. "But don't be afraid of the darkness, doctor." One by one the lights fade until there's only a faint glow casting shadows in the endless darkness. “You were never real to begin with."
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Limitless