The Morning After [still this universe]
Consciousness arrived like an amputee hengrauggi: clumsy, loud, and vicious. Julian sat up very, very carefully, groaning aloud as his vision swam. His head throbbed violently, and he fought back a wave of nausea. Even the dim light made his eyes ache. "Fuck," he muttered. He felt as though he had spent last night partying harder than he ever had since medical school. He buried his head in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees as he waited for the room to stop spinning.
...his bare knees. Where were his clothes? He didn't remember removing them the previous night. For that matter, he didn't remember much of anything. He had drunk some Tarkalian tea, hadn't he? It had been quite good. Matthew had had some too. And then...he had...
He jerked upright and immediately regretted it. He grabbed for the bed to steady himself, hanging onto a handful of sheets. "Computer, lights to forty percent," he gasped, and winced at the abrupt increase in illumination.
The room was simple, furnished with a couple tables on either side of the bed and a low bureau, all of familiarly angular Cardassian design. There was no replicator or bathroom in evidence, but a chair next to the full-length mirror by the door held his neatly folded clothing.
Julian stood slowly, venturing away from the safe stability of the bed toward the pile of clothes. A quick glance in the mirror showed no bruises on his body; the only aches he felt, accordingly, were easily attributed to his hangover. He found his trousers in the pile and retreated to the bed to pull them on; he didn't trust his balance to dress himself standing up.
"Computer," he began. If he were to leave the room, it would be best to re-acclimate himself to the light. "Over the next thirty seconds, gradually increase illumination to full." A beep indicated compliance.
Decently clothed, he made his way back to the door and pressed the switch. Nothing happened. He pressed the lock switch and tried again. Still nothing. "Computer, unlock this door." If he sounded testy, surely it could be forgiven under the circumstances.
"Cannot comply," the computer responded. Its voice was cold and masculine.
Julian sighed. "Please?"
"Cannot comply."
"Can I ask," Julian said, equally cold, "why not?"
"Unlocking requires permission of a member of the household."
"In that case," the doctor said, "please contact a member of the household and ask them to let me out."
"Cannot comply."
"Of course you can't," Julian grumbled. It seemed he was a prisoner here after all. He banged his hand against the door. "Hey!" he shouted. His head throbbed in response to the noise, but he closed his eyes and continued. "Hey! Can you hear me? Let me out of here!"
The door slid open and he stumbled, catching himself on the edge of the doorframe. He looked down to see a tiny Cardassian child, staring up at him with wide eyes. "Who're you?" the boy asked.
Julian carefully crouched down to look the child in the eyes. He was reluctant to tell the boy his name; it might be a ploy to gain his trust, only for the child to then tell all he'd heard to Matthew. "I'm a doctor," he said. His captor already knew that much. "Is your father home?"
The boy nodded. "Why are you here?" he asked.
"He's a guest," replied a familiar voice. Julian stood and turned, slower than he would have liked to, to find Matthew standing at the end of the corridor. The Cardassian smiled. "Good morning, both of you. How are you feeling, Doctor?"
Julian glanced at the boy. "The words to describe how I'm feeling aren't fit for your son's ears," he answered.
Matthew threw back his head and laughed. "Go on down to breakfast, son," he said. "The doctor and I will be along shortly." As the boy trotted off down the corridor, Matthew approached Julian, his hand outstretched. Julian tensed, which helped his headache not at all. "Relax, Doctor," the Cardassian said. "It's an analgesic. You can administer it yourself if you like." He offered the hypospray to Julian.
Julian snorted. "You expect me to use a drug that you give me, with no way of knowing what it is?"
"Of course not." The Cardassian handed Julian his own Starfleet-issue medical tricorder. "I expect you want to scan it for yourself. And you will discover that it is exactly what I have said."
He took the hypospray and tricorder; a quick scan revealed its contents to be, indeed, only a mild painkiller. The hypospray was even pre-set to the correct dosage. He pressed it to his neck and closed his eyes as the drug flooded into his system. It felt like a cool breeze clearing the fog from his brain as the incessant pounding softened. He sighed. "Thank you." The words left his mouth without conscious thought; belatedly, he failed to recall them and opened his eyes again. "Now, if you wouldn't mind--" His mouth kept getting ahead of his brain. He didn't want to talk to Matthew. He wanted to lunge at him and pin him against the wall--which he did, his elbow pressing against the surprised Cardassian's throat.
"Doctor, please," Matthew said breathlessly. "Allow me to explain. Please."
"Explain," Julian repeated. "Explain why you drugged me? Why I woke up locked in a bedroom with no clothes on and no memory of last night? Yes, please explain. Explain what you did to me, in exact medical detail if you don't mind." Part of him feared he might regret knowing the details; the other part pointed out that uncertainty was worse.
"I do not deny that I drugged you last night," the Cardassian said. "But you must believe me when I tell you that it was not my intention to take advantage of you. I failed to consider the differences in human physiology. For a Cardassian, likna is only a mild aphrodisiac, not a narcotic. There was some in my tea as well."
"You meant to give me an aphrodisiac."
"Yes," Matthew agreed. "I found you attractive. I sensed that you felt the same way about me. I only meant to encourage you to act on your attraction, not to compromise your judgment."
The part of Julian's mind that wasn't stunned by the Cardassian's candid revelation suggested that it might be prudent to put some physical distance between himself and the other man. He stepped back to the opposite side of the narrow corridor, crossing his arms over his bare chest.
"If I was mistaken in my assumption," Matthew continued, "I do apologize. You did kiss me. Of course, given the unexpected effects of the drug, I don't know if you would have done so were you not in an altered state of mind."
Julian felt his face warm. "What happened after that?" he demanded, dodging Matthew's implied query. "That seems to be the point at which your likna knocked out my hippocampus. If you'd be so kind as to fill in the missing memories?"
"At that point, I began to notice certain physical and psychological symptoms that suggested the likna was affecting you in a way that I had not intended--your speech was slurred and your pupils dilated, and you were perspiring rather more than the environmental conditions warranted. I realized that it would be unethical to proceed with your judgment thus compromised, and escorted you to the bedroom in which you awoke."
Julian narrowed his eyes. The physical evidence suggested that Matthew was telling the truth, but it was not a full explanation. "What about my clothes? I woke up nude."
Matthew smiled. "Ah. You were rather insistent about removing them, I'm afraid. I had to sedate you to prevent you from attempting to undress me as well. Unfortunately, once I had done so, it proved impossible to replace your own clothing. I left you to sleep it off."
"And locked me in."
The Cardassian shrugged rather expressively. "I had already misjudged the effects of one drug on you. With the sedative, I decided to err on the side of caution and underdosed you. If you had awoken while still under the influence of the likna, I didn't want you to go wandering about the house and embarrass yourself. In case you're wondering, I took the intervening time to extensively research the analgesic I just gave you and ensure that both the formulation and dosage were correct for a human of your mass. Given that you took it after scanning it, I trust that I got it right this time."
There was no evidence to suggest that Matthew was lying, but Julian was unwilling to trust him. Something didn't quite fit. "One of my closest friends," he began, "is a former operative of the Obsidian Order." The Cardassian opened his mouth, eyes innocently wide, and Julian raised a hand to forestall the inevitable protest. "He is an extraordinarily good liar. But that's just the thing--he always lies." He regarded Matthew steadily. "You're too good to make such a mistake. You knew exactly what effect the likna would have on a human. What I don't understand is why you didn't go through with it. I believe that you didn't take advantage of me last night. But why not? If the drug worked so well that you had to sedate me to get me off you, why change your mind?"
For the first time, Matthew looked ill at ease. It was slightly fascinating to see him fidget uncomfortably. "I didn't want to hurt you," he said, and Julian was amazed to find that he believed him. "I suspected you might have made different choices without the drug's influence, and I didn't want this morning to be as awkward as it undoubtedly would have been, had I gone through with the initial plan."
It was awkward enough. "Thank you," Julian said coldly, "for not raping me."
The Cardassian didn't meet his eyes. "Have I answered all your questions? I believe my son is waiting for us to join him for breakfast." He gestured back at the bedroom. "Feel free to finish getting dressed, if you wish."
When Julian followed his captor downstairs a moment later, fully dressed, he found the boy waiting patiently at the breakfast table. "You're a human, aren't you?" the child demanded.
Something about his eager inquisitiveness made Julian smile. "And what makes you think that?" he asked.
"Well," the boy answered, "you're not Cardassian 'cause your neck is too narrow. You're not Klingon 'cause your forehead is smooth, you're not Andorian 'cause you don't have antennae, you're not Vulcanoid 'cause your ears are round, you're not Bajoran 'cause your nose isn't wrinkly, and you're not Bolian because you have hair."
Matthew chuckled. "Very good, Elim!" he said, tousling the boy's hair affectionately.
"Elim?!" The pieces fell into place with shocking clarity. As the elder Cardassian gave him a fierce glare, placing himself protectively between Julian and the child, Julian realized exactly why his captor's eyes were so familiar. He knew exactly who Matthew was. What was far worse, however, was that Matthew knew he knew.
...his bare knees. Where were his clothes? He didn't remember removing them the previous night. For that matter, he didn't remember much of anything. He had drunk some Tarkalian tea, hadn't he? It had been quite good. Matthew had had some too. And then...he had...
He jerked upright and immediately regretted it. He grabbed for the bed to steady himself, hanging onto a handful of sheets. "Computer, lights to forty percent," he gasped, and winced at the abrupt increase in illumination.
The room was simple, furnished with a couple tables on either side of the bed and a low bureau, all of familiarly angular Cardassian design. There was no replicator or bathroom in evidence, but a chair next to the full-length mirror by the door held his neatly folded clothing.
Julian stood slowly, venturing away from the safe stability of the bed toward the pile of clothes. A quick glance in the mirror showed no bruises on his body; the only aches he felt, accordingly, were easily attributed to his hangover. He found his trousers in the pile and retreated to the bed to pull them on; he didn't trust his balance to dress himself standing up.
"Computer," he began. If he were to leave the room, it would be best to re-acclimate himself to the light. "Over the next thirty seconds, gradually increase illumination to full." A beep indicated compliance.
Decently clothed, he made his way back to the door and pressed the switch. Nothing happened. He pressed the lock switch and tried again. Still nothing. "Computer, unlock this door." If he sounded testy, surely it could be forgiven under the circumstances.
"Cannot comply," the computer responded. Its voice was cold and masculine.
Julian sighed. "Please?"
"Cannot comply."
"Can I ask," Julian said, equally cold, "why not?"
"Unlocking requires permission of a member of the household."
"In that case," the doctor said, "please contact a member of the household and ask them to let me out."
"Cannot comply."
"Of course you can't," Julian grumbled. It seemed he was a prisoner here after all. He banged his hand against the door. "Hey!" he shouted. His head throbbed in response to the noise, but he closed his eyes and continued. "Hey! Can you hear me? Let me out of here!"
The door slid open and he stumbled, catching himself on the edge of the doorframe. He looked down to see a tiny Cardassian child, staring up at him with wide eyes. "Who're you?" the boy asked.
Julian carefully crouched down to look the child in the eyes. He was reluctant to tell the boy his name; it might be a ploy to gain his trust, only for the child to then tell all he'd heard to Matthew. "I'm a doctor," he said. His captor already knew that much. "Is your father home?"
The boy nodded. "Why are you here?" he asked.
"He's a guest," replied a familiar voice. Julian stood and turned, slower than he would have liked to, to find Matthew standing at the end of the corridor. The Cardassian smiled. "Good morning, both of you. How are you feeling, Doctor?"
Julian glanced at the boy. "The words to describe how I'm feeling aren't fit for your son's ears," he answered.
Matthew threw back his head and laughed. "Go on down to breakfast, son," he said. "The doctor and I will be along shortly." As the boy trotted off down the corridor, Matthew approached Julian, his hand outstretched. Julian tensed, which helped his headache not at all. "Relax, Doctor," the Cardassian said. "It's an analgesic. You can administer it yourself if you like." He offered the hypospray to Julian.
Julian snorted. "You expect me to use a drug that you give me, with no way of knowing what it is?"
"Of course not." The Cardassian handed Julian his own Starfleet-issue medical tricorder. "I expect you want to scan it for yourself. And you will discover that it is exactly what I have said."
He took the hypospray and tricorder; a quick scan revealed its contents to be, indeed, only a mild painkiller. The hypospray was even pre-set to the correct dosage. He pressed it to his neck and closed his eyes as the drug flooded into his system. It felt like a cool breeze clearing the fog from his brain as the incessant pounding softened. He sighed. "Thank you." The words left his mouth without conscious thought; belatedly, he failed to recall them and opened his eyes again. "Now, if you wouldn't mind--" His mouth kept getting ahead of his brain. He didn't want to talk to Matthew. He wanted to lunge at him and pin him against the wall--which he did, his elbow pressing against the surprised Cardassian's throat.
"Doctor, please," Matthew said breathlessly. "Allow me to explain. Please."
"Explain," Julian repeated. "Explain why you drugged me? Why I woke up locked in a bedroom with no clothes on and no memory of last night? Yes, please explain. Explain what you did to me, in exact medical detail if you don't mind." Part of him feared he might regret knowing the details; the other part pointed out that uncertainty was worse.
"I do not deny that I drugged you last night," the Cardassian said. "But you must believe me when I tell you that it was not my intention to take advantage of you. I failed to consider the differences in human physiology. For a Cardassian, likna is only a mild aphrodisiac, not a narcotic. There was some in my tea as well."
"You meant to give me an aphrodisiac."
"Yes," Matthew agreed. "I found you attractive. I sensed that you felt the same way about me. I only meant to encourage you to act on your attraction, not to compromise your judgment."
The part of Julian's mind that wasn't stunned by the Cardassian's candid revelation suggested that it might be prudent to put some physical distance between himself and the other man. He stepped back to the opposite side of the narrow corridor, crossing his arms over his bare chest.
"If I was mistaken in my assumption," Matthew continued, "I do apologize. You did kiss me. Of course, given the unexpected effects of the drug, I don't know if you would have done so were you not in an altered state of mind."
Julian felt his face warm. "What happened after that?" he demanded, dodging Matthew's implied query. "That seems to be the point at which your likna knocked out my hippocampus. If you'd be so kind as to fill in the missing memories?"
"At that point, I began to notice certain physical and psychological symptoms that suggested the likna was affecting you in a way that I had not intended--your speech was slurred and your pupils dilated, and you were perspiring rather more than the environmental conditions warranted. I realized that it would be unethical to proceed with your judgment thus compromised, and escorted you to the bedroom in which you awoke."
Julian narrowed his eyes. The physical evidence suggested that Matthew was telling the truth, but it was not a full explanation. "What about my clothes? I woke up nude."
Matthew smiled. "Ah. You were rather insistent about removing them, I'm afraid. I had to sedate you to prevent you from attempting to undress me as well. Unfortunately, once I had done so, it proved impossible to replace your own clothing. I left you to sleep it off."
"And locked me in."
The Cardassian shrugged rather expressively. "I had already misjudged the effects of one drug on you. With the sedative, I decided to err on the side of caution and underdosed you. If you had awoken while still under the influence of the likna, I didn't want you to go wandering about the house and embarrass yourself. In case you're wondering, I took the intervening time to extensively research the analgesic I just gave you and ensure that both the formulation and dosage were correct for a human of your mass. Given that you took it after scanning it, I trust that I got it right this time."
There was no evidence to suggest that Matthew was lying, but Julian was unwilling to trust him. Something didn't quite fit. "One of my closest friends," he began, "is a former operative of the Obsidian Order." The Cardassian opened his mouth, eyes innocently wide, and Julian raised a hand to forestall the inevitable protest. "He is an extraordinarily good liar. But that's just the thing--he always lies." He regarded Matthew steadily. "You're too good to make such a mistake. You knew exactly what effect the likna would have on a human. What I don't understand is why you didn't go through with it. I believe that you didn't take advantage of me last night. But why not? If the drug worked so well that you had to sedate me to get me off you, why change your mind?"
For the first time, Matthew looked ill at ease. It was slightly fascinating to see him fidget uncomfortably. "I didn't want to hurt you," he said, and Julian was amazed to find that he believed him. "I suspected you might have made different choices without the drug's influence, and I didn't want this morning to be as awkward as it undoubtedly would have been, had I gone through with the initial plan."
It was awkward enough. "Thank you," Julian said coldly, "for not raping me."
The Cardassian didn't meet his eyes. "Have I answered all your questions? I believe my son is waiting for us to join him for breakfast." He gestured back at the bedroom. "Feel free to finish getting dressed, if you wish."
When Julian followed his captor downstairs a moment later, fully dressed, he found the boy waiting patiently at the breakfast table. "You're a human, aren't you?" the child demanded.
Something about his eager inquisitiveness made Julian smile. "And what makes you think that?" he asked.
"Well," the boy answered, "you're not Cardassian 'cause your neck is too narrow. You're not Klingon 'cause your forehead is smooth, you're not Andorian 'cause you don't have antennae, you're not Vulcanoid 'cause your ears are round, you're not Bajoran 'cause your nose isn't wrinkly, and you're not Bolian because you have hair."
Matthew chuckled. "Very good, Elim!" he said, tousling the boy's hair affectionately.
"Elim?!" The pieces fell into place with shocking clarity. As the elder Cardassian gave him a fierce glare, placing himself protectively between Julian and the child, Julian realized exactly why his captor's eyes were so familiar. He knew exactly who Matthew was. What was far worse, however, was that Matthew knew he knew.