So this is what should be part of a double update except it got a bit more into plot advancement than just a supplement to the last chapter so yeah. (It's also the longest chapter to date even...) Shooting for another chapter tomorrow but it seems unlikely. Anyway, as promised Julian's POV, darling voyeur that he is and a guarantee of way more mind fuckery courtesy of our favorite spy. Keeping with the M rating here and this pretty much parallels the last chapter almost paragraph for paragraph. Thanks everyone for reading and commenting. C&C always welcome!
The door slides open easily. Miles had assured him that it would be almost soundless- it glides smoothly along the rails- and even with Julian's hearing the sound of that slide is barely audible. Miles had also assured him that the sound dampening panels should blot the creak of the wooden floorboards beneath down to near nothing. He was once again correct, and Julian feels a brief pang of guilt for doubting him. Of course he would never let you down. You should know by now that he would... right, none of that. Julian takes a careful step inside, slowly sliding the door shut leaving it just before that telltale click that would draw attention. He is thankful for his steady hands. No matter how badly his heart is beating, no matter the anxiety, the fear, his body moves just as easily, just as calmly, as a machine. He almost checks his scent again but he should be as close to unperfumed as he could manage, save for whatever scents might have clung to his clothes from the downstairs. In any case, he has a feeling any olfactory tells should be well masked by Garak's current preoccupation. Julian only hopes that Garak remains suitably… distracted for him to find what he needs.
He doesn't allow himself to look for too long; he nearly misses the shirt dropped on the floor when he catches himself staring too intently. But he recovers, holding his balance, letting his foot drop back lightly with a slow breath. He sees Jadzia carefully not look at him and just as carefully hold Garak's attention. Julian cannot help the frown that crosses his face at the thought of her part in this scheme but then again… He sees her face, recognizes that excitement, that daring smirk that he knows all too well and shakes his head with a grin. Yes, poor pitiful Jadzia enjoying every second of this while you fuss and fret. Of course she wouldn't have volunteered such a thing out of noble sacrifice- that is to say she would not have volunteered her body short of a life or death situation unless she thought there was a little fun to be had. That expression as she looks down and draws the dress up higher confirms that to her this is far less a mission for the sake of his life, but rather a nice excuse to spend a wild evening with a man who may or may not be a dangerous Cardassian Operative (or worse!). Julian only hopes she doesn't overestimate her own abilities.
The sounds are distracting, however. Julian cannot help, especially with his hearing, hear every labored breath, hear Garak's heavy breathing even as he… Julian swallows hard as he crosses the large room careful not to let the light cast any unwanted shadows. He cannot afford to let himself become too distracted by the act, no matter how it might be rousing his… curiosity. Julian sees a stack of papers, a small stack of books on the large desk, and he is amazed at how much Garak has acquired in- God, it's been a few months now, hasn't it? He hadn't realized so much time had passed as he approaches carefully, eyes scanning the neatly organized desk. No matter what Jadzia said you have to allow for the possibility that he's deciphered it. That he knows everything that you know about him and if he is one of them then he has to know that you're the one he's looking for. Good job, Julian, you thought your secrets were safe. How safe are they in the hands of a man you know nothing about?
Julian takes a slow breath and keeps his eyes trained on the two twin candle lights as he carefully calculates the angles of approach to seize one of the books and read through it without created a shadow on the wall from the light. It will require an incredibly steady hand and amount of concentration but he doesn't let that sway him, letting his hand creep serpentine over the surface of the desk. But first he takes a quick look at the stack of papers. He's slow with them so as not to make a sound and finds to his chagrin that they're written in some spidery script that he cannot understand at a quick glance. Of course his own notes wouldn't be in Federation Standard, Julian, it's probably Cardassian. Dammit, I don't know if I can go through all of these fast enough to figure it out as long as it's been. His eyes instead turns to the books, some textbooks but to his despair he sees that the others are notebooks exactly like his own. Alright, Julian, that's not too suspect, the only place to buy them is the stationary section at Quark's Necessities and they're the only ones really worth a damn in buying... But upon closer inspection he can see that even the wear is somehow identical to his own book down to every distinct signature that he can recall. Not good. And that's when he hears Jadzia swear softly and he has a feeling she won't be able to distract Garak nearly as long as he needs.
Julian doesn't quite know why he chooses that moment to look over. He tells himself that he needs to look, that he needs to see what his timeframe is, and that one glance would hardly intrude upon the intimacy of the moment. That and more, is what he tells himself as he takes a careful step back, keeping out of the light, one hastily grabbed notebook in hand as he looks over, seeing before anything else the naked back of the man on whom he's been spying. Julian had of course to some intellectual extent imagined, had envisioned the scene which would greet him. But there is the abstract, and then there is the reality of seeing Garak on his knees, head moving faintly up and down, the motion of his shoulders betraying other movement. Julian almost feels his face heat up, voyeur to such an intimate act, and he brings a hand to his mouth to curtail any gasp, any heavy breathing on his part. He makes a fast and furious study of the smooth grey skin, of the dark hair with mussed, messy tendrils clinging to a sweat dampened neck. Julian can see the ridges, wondering if that is hard plating or soft lizard like scales that trail down his spine to the small of his back.
Julian swallows hard, fingers crawling to the hollow of his throat resting there wanting to curl into the skin, wanting to adjust the already low collar as the heat of the room begins to bear down on him sticky and suffocating. Jadzia is breathtaking. The way her head tips back, the way that her body writhes along with every push of her hips, all of it us unashamed in seeking more pleasure. He can only imagine the ardent fervor which greets that enthusiasm in return. He imagines it all too well, really. And it's that errant thought that breathes life into the subsequent flashing fantasy behind his eyes that follows. Julian imagines then, as he recalls the inquisitive blue eyes that met his that afternoon across the table, that expression looking up at him from that same position on the floor. He can feel his knees start to tremble wobbly, the hand holding the book dropping down, as he pictures with such perverse detail Garak's mouth around his shaft, his tongue tasting, hands holding his hips pinning him to the wall as he swallows him.
Julian's breath catches hard. He's amazed himself at just how lurid his subconscious imagination is as he lets his eyes shut for what he counts to be only a few short seconds. It's easier than he'd have thought to separate Jadzia's pants, her gasps from Garak's own respirations, and much as he might have fantasized about her before that man's arrival, it is not her who commands his attention right now. No, it is only Garak as his mind's eye replaces her long pale fingers with his own, as he imagines trying to push back, trying to squirm, to desperately force more of his length into Garak's waiting mouth. Julian can feel the unconscious movement of his hand holding that book, moving towards center, the flat of it pressing over his groin with a sudden tactile intensity that makes his eyes snap open wide and drops him with a gasp. He covers his mouth with his other hand. Afraid to look up, afraid to move. He'd caught himself before thud drew too much attention but he doesn't know if Garak will still turn to face him, knelt down, head bent, hiding a ridiculous erection.
Yes, what a position to find yourself in, Julian. Vaunted, famed prodigy Julian Bashir, youngest ever winner of the coveted Carrington, the darling of Starfleet Medical disappears at his greatest moment of triumph to spend his pitiful middle age in hiding, sneaking around a strange man's bedroom to preserve the pathetic tendrils of his miserable secrets. Secrets that already cost you everything, your career, your life in the stars, you damn stupid-
"Garak…" He hears Jadzia speak and that voice brings him back to the present, to the book in his hand. She says Garak's name but he knows that it's a warning to him, her loud cry masking his lapse perfectly. Julian takes a deep breath and lifts his head, slowly removing the book eyes skimming the first page quickly, his brain deciphering the layers of the careful coding at a speed that only he could master without a key at hand. "I think the man I met today may be one of them…"
His lips are a tight nervous line as he reads further on the page, the writing appearing to be his and yet he has a suspicion that there's something that he's missing, something that he's overlooking for him to grab the right book of the dozen or so he imagines there must be. He lifts up on his knees, quickly, carefully to keep the light from betraying his position as he reaches for another book. Once more he opens to the first page reading "I think the man I met today might be one of them..." It's not exact. Julian hears Jadzia telling him she cannot wait and he only prays that Garak does not choose this moment of all to turn around. Julian grabs for a third book reading "I believe the man I met today could be one of them…" And he almost throws the books across the room not knowing which is which or what he even wrote- or rather he's beginning to doubt even his instant recall, his eidetic memory as the words, the script appear to be his written even in his careful perfect coding. No, not so perfect now, is it?
Julian can feel his anxiety growing as he looks at book after book, the first page reading in some subtle variant of the last until he thinks he's going to go mad. He almost doesn't think to look to the second page, a slight distraction caused by the sound of a heavy ball of fabric hitting the floor and in spite of himself he turns. On his knees looking up, Julian takes a brief pause to admire Jadzia's nude body, wishing irrationally that Garak would move to the side so that he might get a better look of her than just those- he swallows again nearly dropping the book- beautifully shaped breasts no longer covered by fabric. Julian licks his lips absently, a moment's thought to one of her hard pink nipples in his mouth, hands cupping that softness and… Focus! For God's sake you need to- "My dearest Leelin, if there is some hope that you're reading this missive…" What on earth is he writing? Julian sets that book down, quickly looking to the next to page four "When I came to look at the deepest pits of my own betrayal I realized that I had no other recourse but to…" More stories. Julian realizes he has no idea which book even belongs where and he's no closer to finding his own.
His own. He frowns at that, the realization coming to him that Garak has obviously deciphered his notebook and already knows everything he'd written down. He could wonder when. There may not have been time to act if it was really so recently but Julian has a strange gut feeling that he's not Garak's intended target after all if in fact the man has come to Westworld, to Indigo with a murderous intent. But that doesn't mean that he's any less dangerous. These books were obviously left for your eyes only. You're the only one here capable of deciphering them. He's… playing with me? Julian scans the desktop counting 5 books. He quickly looks in the two desk drawers to the left- unlocked of course- turning up 2 more. He's already looked at two of them. Puzzles, riddles all of them. He looks in the first book he's pulled from the drawer, turning to another random page quickly reading. "I ask the doctor- No, he asks me to call him Julian and so I ask Julian to hold very still as my fingers take the liberty of unfastening that teasing top button of his shirt. And I unbutton them, one after another in the darkness where I can see and he cannot until that fabric is pushed from his shoulders, his skin slick and sweaty…"
His hands fumble, nearly dropping it, closing it shut quickly, almost too hard and he looks over half terrified that he might have been noticed again. But it isn't terror that holds him as he clutches that book hard, his chest heaving as he imagines his literary doppleganger doing the same, Garak's deft fingers unfastening those buttons in a room like this. No, not like this, darker, hotter, and Julian has that button popped, his skin hotter to his own touch than he was expecting. He tries to remember the meditative breathing that he'd learned once but that would be far too loud even amidst the- he swallows and stares harder at Garak's back- noise. Julian lets his fingers slip beneath his shirt, beneath the undone button, short nails scraping over his chest making him bite back a moan, his palm over the book getting sweaty. He can feel a light beading of sweat on his forehead and feel the hair stick to the back of his neck as he makes a study of the ridges of Garak's shoulder, of those muscles, of that effortless motion that moves just enough to let him see a little more.
Julian almost dares that louder labored breathing to escape. He doesn't think Cardassian hearing would decipher it from Jadzia's… from Jadzia's loud lustful moans. Julian's hand is not still, coming around to grab his own shoulder, nails digging hard, the awkward half self embrace trying to hold him back from some madness or another. He sees her eyes meet his, bringing him into this scene far more intimately than he would've imagined, and it's not Garak's face that he sees as she manages a strained half smile but his own. He can smell her too, strong, aroused, wanting, needing, and he would be lying to himself terribly if that didn't fuel this unforgivable distraction in the matter of life and death. He can only dare to imagine the taste of her, the feel of her around him, the feel of her squeezing his tongue buried deep inside her. Julian can feel the painful pressure of his finger clutching his shoulder in response and he lets another elongated blink bring to that darkness behind his eyes the thoroughly debauched dream of him taking her, her hands kneading his back, her heels digging, drawing him in deeper. And it ends with a hard possessive hand pulling his shoulder back, arms around him from behind holding him still just long enough for Garak to-
Oh God. Julian pulls himself back from that fevered delusion as he watches Garak sit back, the litany of sounds coming to a low rush of heavy breathing, and suddenly his breath seems far too loud in his own ears. Julian lets go of his shoulder feeling a dull ache, feeling the palm print he's likely left on the notebook. He should take this one. This one with the evidence of his shame, this one held to his chest, or even the one pressed hard against that stir in his groin to temper that fire, that one that likely… smells of him intermingled with freshly pressed paper. Julian frowns deeply, forcing his attention away from Jadzia's heaving body sitting up, flush, peaked with arousal at every point. He turns away quickly and places that book back beneath two others. One of these is the truth. So many lies and one truth lies amongst them. That has to be the game. But he still has four more to check and he may have already run out of time. He throws a look over his shoulder as he begins a quiet desperate scramble to leaf through those last clues.
They're talking. It's good that they're talking because it allows his body to draw further back from that lust maddened edge on which he found himself dangerously teetering. One of us tells only truth while the other of us only lies. Is that how this goes? He scans his mind quickly trying to decipher the commonality as he lays the books out, on his knees. Think Julian, think. There's something here that he wants you to see. Or maybe you should be going for what he doesn't want you to see. Alright, Julian, rule out the ridiculous missive to Leeta. Rule out the… graphic depictions of intercourse and that leaves you with… He quickly reads the other four one after the other. "…spent as the prisoner of a Klingon determined to take back Terok Nor for the Empire. I cannot believe I felt myself actually longing for the shrill demands of the Intendant…" Book one seems plausible. Jadzia said he seemed to have a basic understanding of Klingon… The next far too fanciful, "…told me that my name was Serot now and I'd been deep undercover for ten years as a Bajoran that I could scarcely remember…" He doesn't think that's likely but-
But his sensitive hearing suddenly catches the clack of a zipper that has yet to be undone and as Jadzia sits there nude that can only mean… Julian's head shoots up rocket fast at the sound mid way to setting the next book back. The words he'd just deciphered "I had understood that it was no longer possible to pretend that I didn't see what was going on. They were afraid of what I had uncovered and it was becoming clear to me that my life was in…" Julian holds that book, the words echoing so close to his own past he knows he lingered reading too long. And in that lingering he now sees Jadzia undoing Garak's trousers. Her intuition had so neatly picked out Julian's fascination that night when they watched him, and he can see for himself that that fascination has only grown. Perhaps it is not he who should fear Garak but the other way around if what he's read is true. Is that why you were watching me? Julian feels a sense of danger of a new type entirely as Jadzia's hands move and the last vestiges of clothing drops to the floor.
"Well it looks like I've lost a second wager." Julian thinks back to their silly "boxers or briefs" conversation remembering the banality, the teasing when Garak first arrived, before Julian began to suspect that he might be dangerous. Yes, he was right, after all, but he doesn't have time to consider that as he watches, eyes going wide as more skin is revealed for his greedy eyes. Julian memorizes all of it. He watches as the small of Garak's back tapers off, ridges, mountains giving way to smooth skin. Tight, toned buttocks come into view and that remnant of an ache fervently pulls to the forefront once more. He wishes that he could touch, could run his tongue over ever bit of skin, could hold him open and-
"You are… a wicked… woman…" What are you doing? Jadzia? God I need to know I need to see just…let me…
"Let me see…" he mouths, not even realizing his lips have moved until her head peers around Garak's hip to look. One bright blue mischievous eye winks at him- all their silly talk of Cardassian anatomy, of the differences, of the distinctions that come into play in those most intimate of moments flitting through his thoughts- as he holds that book like a lifeline, knowing the rest lay scattered on the desktop but-
"Watch me, Julian. In case you want to try later." Julian nearly hisses a quick denial to that fact but he shuts his mouth. Instead, he slowly moves sideways on his knees, just enough to remain where Garak is not likely to see him; the way Garak stares at Jadzia, the way his body trembles, almost buckles makes Julian believe turning his head is the last thing he plans. And as much as he is so damn desperate to see her every movement up close, taste Garak, taste the Cardassian on her mouth he keeps himself tightly coiled on his knees, the balls of his feet tucked underneath him should flight be required. The door is at his back, some ten feet away in the large room, but Julian knows that his reflexes are still faster than not just a man his age, but most than normal men of any age. Especially when he's prepared, and as tense and tightly wound as his own body is, ready to act in any way to relieve some of the tightness, he's sure he could very well blur out the door like a flash of a stopwatch.
But he can see her. That's what matters. He can see her suck. He can see the tight seal of her mouth as she pulls her head back- for his benefit he can tell with that subtle glance in his direction- and Julian knows his eyes are wide as he watches her draw Garak's cock to full hardness in her mouth from that spot that he cannot quite make out. And he sees it little by little, every ridge that she draws deeper, the shaft getting thicker, her lips spreading with its girth as he watches her slow careful breath, the task seeming endless until Julian himself wonders obscenely just how large it is. He is aware intellectually that whatever he imagines is the result of the optical perception, of a subjective perspective, but he still cannot help the image of that thickness hard, slick in his hand, and it's not Jadzia's mouth that worships it in that fantasy but his that-
Jadzia's head turns to him under the guise of some sensual purr. Her head moves back and he sees Garak's stiffness. Julian's mouth is dry, open panting that he wasn't even aware he was affecting. He stops his hand from reaching down, from adjusting what is once again at the forefront of his mind, painful, insistent, needing anything from either of the two that he watches. But this isn't the time and Julian draws back to his spot knowing that he won't have time to rearrange the desk but sensing that it wouldn't matter if he did.
"Do you have it?" He knows he needs to answer quickly but the answer itself while it should be a simple yes or no, is far more complicated than that. Julian doesn't have time for complication, however, and as he quickly tries to think of the best way to answer he finds himself drawing a pitiful blank.
"I-"
"No time." He catches that whisper just as she sends both she and Garak to the ground quickly. Julian looks at her feeling almost helpless, seeing the dagger still strapped to her thigh. Her eyes meet his again in question, her face flickering with a sudden coldness. Julian sees briefly superimposed over his dear friend the steely resolve of the woman who's killed before for the sake of the dead and damned. And you are certainly damned, aren't you, Julian? It's going to haunt you forever. You're never going to... No, now's not the time. Julian quickly shakes his head.
"I have what I need," he mouths with careful enunciation watching her relax back into the enjoyment of the moment.
"It seems you have me at a disadvantage," he hears Garak say as he crawls spider like across the floor as close to the wall as he can manage. His eyes remain carefully focused on the both of them lest Garak start to turn his head Julian is sure that he can move quickly enough that Jadzia can divert him.
He sees her carefully watching him, can see that silent urging to move quicker and he does; almost. Julian steps back, back, mentally counting the distance to the door, eyes not leaving the two of them as she shifts, as she tells him he's lost. Good. A good diversion. And yet he hardly seems moved. If anything Garak appears… amused intermingled with that waiting lust. Julian isn't sure that he likes it but he doesn't have a choice as she slides over him, hear soft curvy body art in motion and he can almost make out the detail of Garak's- Julian swipes, hand going for the door, hitting air and he forces himself for one more damn moment to stop thinking about that. You have what you need, Julian, now get out and stop staring already. You know what's about to happen and you know what you need to do now. You need to read the book and find Miles and- And Miles should be down there in the root cellar with Leeta watching what they can see. Julian swallows hard as he thinks about that, hurrying out and down the stairs not knowing what he'll find when he gets there. Soon, Garak, we'll have the truth of all of this.
Which of the stories are true? They're all true. Even the lies? Especially the lies ;)
