Notes: Oh man, I'll try to keep this short. So I have no idea where this came from. Like a few hours of listening to Cheb Mami and this thing crawled its way out of my head. I had the idea to write an AU that takes place on Earth in a sense but on a world with several of the Star Trek races having evolved on the same planet. Writing it "Earth but not Earth" also gave me an opportunity to mix and mesh some history, some cultures and to have a lot of fun. So I want to let everyone know that plenty of things will bear a strong resemblance to those on Earth as far as customs, religions, social constructs, what have you but I've deliberately avoided mentioning any specific terms to hopefully avoid any confusion.

There's also going to be a little more than meets the eye but I'm not trying to get too epic or too far off the initial plot. One last note, things with Garak, as we know, are never quite as simple as they seem. Now the prologue starts out in a linear fashion but future chapters will be telling a parallel of both past and present. C&C is always welcome, and thanks in advance for reading!

"For a man supposedly on his death bed you seem to be holding up quite well." The words come from a tall man standing in the doorway, a cloth pack nearly as large as he is hanging off his shoulders. He's slim- one can see that his wrists are slender though he wears many layers covered with a heavy brown cloak. One can still see his eyes from that cowl, hazel, piercing, hard as they look at the older man seated in front of him. Julian Subatoi Bashir steps into the dimly lit room where a man with gray hair swept back from a high forehead sits cross legged on a large cushion. There's a heavy wooden table in between them both, a large blanket coming from each side. Underneath it burns hot coals when it's cold, a pit dug down into a dirt floor remains to hold them, even as that dirt has been covered over with fine aqua and white tiles. The older man rises spryly, a smile on his face hesitant, but hopeful.

"It's good to see you, son," he starts with step forward. He's dressed in a long white shift that falls well below the knee. The thick mustache doesn't hide that smile as it grows. Julian remains frowning, mouth clearly downturned even beneath the short thick beard of his face. He doesn't move as the man, as his father advances, catching him in a hearty embrace. Julian's arms remain stiff at his side as he speaks, not to his father, but to the older woman who's appeared behind him neatly blocking his escape back through the doorway.

"You told me he was sick, mother. You lied to me." Julian stares at the floor, the tile an unfamiliar sight to his eyes. He shrugs his father off and turns back to see if she might move. She crosses her arms in front of her, a short but elegant figure looking up at him dressed in a dark blue floor length gown. Her head and neck are covered with a brilliant violet scarf- a gift from him when he was a child that hardly appears to have ever been worn.

"Jules, I know you and your father have had your differences but it was important that he speak with you."

"Don't blame your mother, Jules," his father interrupts holding up a hand. "She only did as I asked. It's been too long for all this nonsense, don't you think?"

"Don't call me that," Julian answers tersely. "You know that's not my name anymore." He sets the pack down unceremoniously. It kicks up a small cloud of dust. There's a tightness around his father's eyes at the action when Julian shoves it to the wall with his foot. "Suppose I won't be needing any of my supplies now, will I?"

"Have a seat." His father invites him to the table, a look to his mother sending her back to the kitchen when she appears ready to scold him. "We didn't want to lie to you, son. But when you refuse to answer my letters, when all the messengers I send return telling me that a man fitting my son's exact description claims that my son is dead-"

"Dead to you," Julian fires back, raising his voice. "I told you I never wanted to speak to you ever again. I told you when I left that you and I have nothing further to say to each other. I told you that I'd do every damn thing you wanted out of me, that I'd be the perfect son, that I wouldn't shame our family any further. You told me I'd never see you again. I've done as you asked, father. You don't have to worry about bearing the humiliation of having a son who's a-"

"Please!" His voice raises and one can imagine that same thunder summoned years ago in the same room. "Do not speak that word in this house." Julian laughs bitterly as he shakes his head. He removes his cloak, throwing it across the room as well, adding to the pile, watching with satisfaction as it kicks up a second dust cloud. He spares a glance for the shoes resting neatly in the entryway that he passed through as he clomps loudly to the table. The beige overcoat he wears is loose, fastened high to the neck hanging down over loose white pants. Julian squares his shoulders. He doesn't sit back like a petulant child as he once had, but looks straight ahead as he crosses his legs on the large cushion. His hair falls to his shoulders as it spills from beneath the brown turban wrapped around his head. It's a sign of his status; a hard earned appointment as the sultan's most trusted personal physician.

"I'd forgotten that the truth is not a thing to be spoken in this house."

"And what of respect for your father? Or have you become so worldly now that you don't believe that to be an affront to the almighty either?" Julian's eyes flash angrily.

"It doesn't matter what I believe father; that's what you said, right? The world doesn't see my beliefs, the world doesn't see the sin that swims in my head like a black ugly ocean. Well the world doesn't see the damn good intentions that you always claim to have either and nor do I. We see lies, deceit, and a self serving man who wouldn't send for me unless he wanted something."

"That isn't true," His mother returns with coffee, the aroma preceding her as she sets the tray in the center of the table. She's calm, a soft spoken distance as she sets the cups. "You know we love you."

"I know that my mother dresses like I'm a stranger," Julian answers, looking for any sugar or cream. There isn't any. The tray is set to his father's tastes. "Should I not even look at you then? If father only wanted you here so I don't speak to him disrespectfully, I'd rather you didn't put yourself out."

"We had company earlier." She, pours the three of them coffee. "You shouldn't be so affronted by everything."

"Let me guess, another one of Father's friends with a business proposal."

"I don't mess with those silly things anymore. You can see we've done rather well for ourselves these last few years. But that struggle, you know I always wanted to give you and your mother the best life. And you have it now, don't you Julian? Whatever curses you may throw my way-""

"Don't." Julian swallows dry. "Don't you dare act as if any of that credit belongs to you." He snorts. "Right, what am I saying, I forget myself of course, honorable, noble father I wouldn't have anything if it wasn't for your sacrifices. Ahh…" Julian shakes his head, staring into that black cup. "Forgive me, what can I possibly do for you, father?" He doesn't need to look up to see the anger darken his father's face. Julian's hands cradle the cup, expecting the storm, watching the faint ripples in the dark liquid. He hears a whisper passing between them politely ignoring it as he stares to his left, to a brightly woven old tapestry that used to relax him when he was a child. He would look at that black and red crisscross of shapes for hours then; before he knew the difference between a circle and a square or even any difference between himself and the rest of the world.

"You know son, you're right." His father's contrition prompts him to turn curiously. "If it wasn't for your work in the capital I wouldn't have made the connections that I have these past few years." Julian sets the cup down.

"You want something."

"I want to give you something. I want to give you an opportunity."

"I think you've given me all the opportunities that I can stand for one lifetime."

"Julian-" He hears his mother's voice scolding him as he takes a long drink of the hot bitter brew. He's always preferred Tarkalian tea extra sweet.

"Leave us, Amsha," he hears his father say. "I promise, no fighting." He watches his father smile at her. He watches his mother smile back and he feels a sludge sloshing heavy in the pit of his stomach. Julian takes another long drink as his mother leaves with her coffee and gives his father a kiss on the cheek. She spares him a brief afterthought of a touch of her hand to his shoulder.

"Is there something that mother shouldn't hear?" He cannot hide the concern from his voice and nearly curses himself for it. His father shakes his head.

"You know your mother doesn't like to talk about your... past transgressions."
"Then why are we talking about them now? I've already made my peace with what I've done."

"You know how I feel about your peace."

"Of course, the peace of a non-believer is the peace known to children and animals. And I'm neither of those. But I know you didn't sully your tongue with lies for this old argument, father." His father opens his mouth then closes it again stroking his chin thoughtfully.

"No. I called you here because I know that no matter where you may have strayed in the past, that you're a man of integrity. You're a man who loves this Empire. You're my only son, and I know I can trust you."

"You sound like one of the sycophants at court clamoring for His Majesty's favor."

"Julian please. I need you to forget all the way that you think I've failed you. I need you to put that aside if you can't make your heart light so be it but listen to me, son, listen."

"I don't understand. What's going on? If you're in some sort of trouble..."

"Not me, not us, the entire Empire is at stake!" Julian sees his father's eyes dart towards the window. The heavy drapes billow faintly with the chill of the night air through the closed shutters. "The Empire, Julian. Every man, woman, and child. The lizards are finally making their move." Julian is tense, frowning hard, eyes also darting to those dark curtains.

"The Cardassians, the Klingons, the Romulans, you sound like every other madman shouting conspiracy theories on the street corner of the capital. There hasn't been a war in over fifty years. Not since the Accords and none of them dare break those. Not since his Majesty…" Julian's eyes go wide and he leans in, speaking even more softly, almost conspiratorially. "Is it his Majesty? Is he in danger?"

"What I'm about to tell you Julian, is strictly between the two of us it cannot leave this room. I don't even know if I can trust that we're not being watched now but I could think of no safer place with the time that we have. We don't know how far the court has been infiltrated. You cannot trust anyone, you cannot tell anyone."

"Wait… surely you can't mean Security Chief Odo or Worf the Chief of His Majesty's guard?"

"No one Julian. The Maquis-"

"The Ma-" Julian immediately quiets his voice. "The Maquis? Those terrorists who destroyed those Cardassian settlements near the borderlands? Is that where this is coming from? Does mother know that you're involved with them?"

"Of course your mother knows. She didn't want you involved in this, she begged me not to contact you."

"Like she begged you not to have them alter me?" Julian crosses his arms and bows his head, eyes closes tight. "Whatever it is, whatever fields they want scorched, whatever water they want poisoned, the answer is no. I'm not a killer. I'm a doctor."

"You are a good man, Julian. But you are a man with flaws, just as I have my flaws." He catches Julian's eyes. "And there are times when we are called to use even our flaws, our greatness weaknesses to serve. Do you understand what I'm saying to you?"

Julian's mouth is tight, a thin white line. He doesn't answer that question.

"Ten years ago," his father continues, "You met a man, a Cardassian man, Elim Garak. You and I are the only ones who know the results of your meeting with that man."

"Do you really believe," Julian's mouth twists as he looks at the whorls on the dark wooden table. "That his Majesty's grace is so strong as to effect the very thoughts, the whispers of his subjects. Do you truly think that no one at the court speaks of how the vaunted Doctor Bashir was once a filthy sodomite who eagerly spread his legs like a delicate maiden for the lizard man that seduced him? Some of them," Julian raises his voice, a sharp bark of ugly laughter clawing up from his throat. "Some of them even say that it was me, you know. They say it was me who wantonly caught his eye and led him to my bed." Julian takes a long drink, his hand shaking as he nearly drops the porcelain. "Should I go on? Should I list off the thing they say I did to earn my position while you tell me that no one else knows?" His father's eyes are soft and his hand reaches across the table. Julian looks down, nearly jumps at that contact, but remains deathly still. His father's fingers are shorter than his- thicker- his palm smaller. His hand is warm and Julian feels like a child again as he turns in that tight grip uncertainly.

"I remember ten years ago, the son who said he would never speak to me again knocking on the door in the middle of the night. I remember when he wept, when he begged on his knees for forgiveness, when he told me everything that had happened with that man, that night." Julian's eyes begin a wavering blur as he blinks that away, breathing deeply. He reluctantly pulls his hand back looking unfocused at his palm.

"Why are we talking about this, father?"

"You and I are the only ones who know the true results of your meeting with that man. Everything you told me that night, everything you asked me to take to my grave I've held here," He thumps his chest once hard, emphatically. "The Maquis- the northerner, Eddington asked me how could I be so sure that I could trust you. I told them nothing of that night. When they asked me how I could be so sure that the Cardassian's lover could be trusted not to betray us, I said nothing."

"Why are you telling me this?"

Julian watches anxiously as his father stands up, circling the table slowly, deliberately. His father puts both hand on his shoulders as he kneels down, turning Julian to face him.

"Because it didn't end with Elim Garak slaying Picard, slaying the Peacemaker. It didn't end with the fire. The Cardassians thought that surely Wesley would be the only heir still able to ascend the throne, that the boy would be no match for the cunning of the rulers of the last Five Great Kingdoms. But they didn't count on his Majesty, they didn't count on Sisko the Emissary stepping forward to lead us out of that darkness. And now that his Majesty is going to sign an alliance with the Bajorans, they cannot wait any longer. Gul Dukat would go to war but the Emperor, Enabran Tain would sooner eliminate the problem at the source. As we say, he would sooner cut off the head of the snake than waste the live of his own."

"Garak!" Julian practically hisses, his eyes getting wide as he stares at his father. "You can't mean-"

"The reports say he was murdered in his shop by three men. He hasn't been seen since then and we both watched them hang for it. Is that what you were going to say?"

"You know I didn't watch silently. Even if I couldn't say why, even if I had to pretend, if I had any sway at all... But they wouldn't listen, the Cardassians were too busy howling for blood. But you know just as I do that he was alive, that it was-"

"The Maquis know that you've been trying to find him. And they're not the only ones. You have to tell me now Julian, truthfully, honestly, that night, did he see you?" Julian's hands shake as they clamp over his father's, that tremor blossoming forth until his entire body feels the thrum.

"No... No, it's not possible. He couldn't... they can't hear... I could see... no... no he never knew. He thought I was asleep. He drugged me to sleep. He didn't know that I wouldn't... Do you know... Do you have any idea the hell that I've been through because of him?! Do you have any idea what he did to me?! Why... Why are you asking me these questions?!"

"He's going to be at the War Night Festival, Julian. Do you understand? It's nearly impossible to get intelligence out of Cardassia with the way the Obsidian Order runs the Empire. But he's going to be there accompanying Emperor Tain and that's when we know he's going to have to strike. It will be his only opportunity."

"How could you possibly?... How could he? There's no way that a common man could ever get so close to his Majesty. I need a minute you're not... you're not giving me time to just..." Julian shuts his eyes tightly.

"He's Enabran Tain's son, Julian. The tailor, the spy, the assassin, is Tain's son!" Julian's eyes snap back open in disbelief.

"There's no way..."

"Who else but a prince, can get close to his Majesty, Julian? Who else but a star can hope to reach the sun?" Julian feels the squeeze to his shoulders, his body stilling careful almost disturbingly calm as his father speaks next. "And who else but you, can get close enough to that star to yank it out of the heavens?" Julian blinks, breathing deeply, slowly, moving his father's hands, looking down with an unreadable expression. "Tell me again, Julian. Did Elim Garak see you that night? Does he know..."

"No. No, he never saw me..." Julian looks at his father eyes almost completely empty. "And he doesn't know, that I know he betrayed me... So help me, father, if a single word of this is a lie..."

"Then let me be stricken dead now. Me, your mother, I swear it, every word of it!" Julian is silent a long pause as his father watches him, as his mother peers around the doorway watching them both seeming to hold her breath.

"Alright. Tell me what I have to do."