by Richel Darrah, 1996
The Karaoke Cafe - If Only
No infringement is intended, although the criticism is heartfelt. Bite me, ViaBorg.
Julian Bashir was desperate. Over the last year, his life had become a nightmare and it was only getting worse. If tonight didn't work, he didn't know what he was going to do and it was all the fault of the two strange beings trailing him.
At first glance, they seem like perfectly normal humans but closer analysis revealed their more sinister characteristics. First of all was their strange clothes. Dark pinstripe pants with a matching jacket over a starched white shirt. Oddest of all was the piece of cloth knotted around their throats. They were always in the same outfit. Sometimes it was gray, sometimes dark blue, but always the same combination. The computer had identified the clothes as a 'suit' and that's what Julian had started calling the two men. The Suits.
Even scarier than the clothes were the attachments they wore. Dark sunglasses that closer examination showed were actually plugged into the side of their heads. The end of their right arms ended in a hand-held computer link that was capable of causing hideous things to happen. More than once, Julian had watched in horror as the Suites altered his reality with a few stokes of the keys.
At first it was small things. People around him would act a little strangely, a little out of character. Before long, as soon as any one of his friends would come near him, they started acting completely bizarre. Dax and Kira seemed to be the most affected. It was frightening to see the thoughts drain out of their heads. Soon, everyone was avoiding him and his shadows, not that Julian could blame them.
His own intelligence wasn't anymore immune to the Suits power than theirs were. He was afraid to even treat patients in his condition in case he suddenly turned into a babbling airhead. Not that he got much chance to babble these days. Between the one Suit always going on about the Founder Conspiracy and the other one droning on about the Klingons, he was lucky to get out two or three sentences an hour.
All of that he could handle if only he still had Garak. The first time the two of them had kissed in the Suits presence, he thought they were going to blow a fuse. They'd twitched violently for long moments before emitting high-pitched screams and hauling Julian out of the Replimat. Now the Suits wouldn't let the two men near each other. If they did manage to come within three feet of each, the results were appalling. The manicured fingers would fly over the keys and suddenly, it was like it wasn't Garak anymore. He would start to drool over that seventeen-year-old Kira brought back. Dukat's daughter no less!
After the first few weeks of this, Julian had started hiding in his quarters as much as possible. Anything was better than seeing those strangers with the familiar faces.
Tonight was his final effort to get his life and love back. He slowly entered his last, best hope for survival. The Cafe.
Walking though the doors, he had a moment of desperate optimism. His unwanted shadows took one look at the happy, entwined couples and froze. Their muscles locked and their heads started to jerk from side to side. Just when it looked liked they would have a complete breakdown -- Denial. Their faces returned to the same generic smile they'd been wearing all along. Their eyes slowly scanned the crowd without seeing anything they didn't want to admit existed.
(Oh well, Plan B.) Carefully signaling to his back-up, he crossed the dance floor to the rest-room on the far wall. The Suits never followed him into the bathroom. Probably afraid that someone might get the wrong idea. The mental image alone was enough to make him ill.
He stepped through the door and carefully locked it behind him. Four quick strides brought him to the window. Throwing open the sash, he climbed out into the alley, only to re-enter the Cafe by an open window at the other end. The window allowed in just enough light for him to change out of his uniform and into the clothes that had been left for him. A light tap on the window caught his attention.
The sight of a slim, dark-haired figure sneaking around the far corner caught the Suits attention. It wasn't the first time Bashir had tried to defy them, but he'd never succeed for long. They took off after the fleeing figure.
Cracking the door slightly, Julian saw the Suits leave and he was able to sneak out. Straightening his shoulders resolutely, he crossed to the stage and made his request.
The Suits rounded the corner only to be confronted by a stranger wearing a blue Starfleet uniform. "Gentleman, can I help you?"
"Where is Bashir?" Conspiracy Suit asked.
"Bashir who?" The question came from behind them as another man stepped into view. The new figure was wearing an outfit very similar to their own but his sunglasses were green.
"You will tell us," Klingon Suit demanded as he brought up his handlink and started typing furiously.
"That will not help you, I'm afraid." Another man stepped from the shadows. He was slender and silver-haired with an unmistakable command presence. "We are free of you and your kind."
The Suits suddenly found themselves backing away as the three men started to advance. Unnoticed in their growing panic, a tall young man opened a door behind them. As soon as they crossed the threshold, he slammed the door shut.
The four of them stood contemplating the shut door pensively. "Seems kinda harsh, even for them." The dark-haired man said.
His shorter companion snorted. "Three words, kiddo. Leeta, Zigal, Shakkar."
All four men shuddered slightly. "I take it back." The two couples turned and headed back towards the main dance floor where the next number was just starting.
"It's been a long time since I was here last, and I hope that it's not too late." Julian's eyes sought out the desperately missed figure sitting alone at the back table. As the music started up, he closed his eyes and allowed his voice to express all the yearning in his heart.
I can't hide the way I feel about you, anymore. I can't hold the hurt inside, keep the pain out of my eyes, anymore. My tears no longer waiting, my resistance ain't that strong My mind keeps recreating a life with you alone. I'm tired of pretending I don't love you anymore.
The crowd watched avidly as the familiar reptilian figure mounted the stage and took the young singer into his arms. His kiss cut off the end of the song, but no one minded. They recognized real love when they saw it.
Inside the locked room, a compact figure stood with his hands clasped behind his back. He watched the men on the stage for a long moment before he swung his head around to gaze at the new arrivals. His thinning hair was slicked back and his blue eyes had a mesmerizing quality. "I apologize for ignoring you, gentleman. It has been a long time since I have had guests. Allow me to get you something to drink before dinner. Perhaps a nice Chianti."
*The End* comments to: rdarrah@velcome.iupui.edu