This is an exploration of the possibilities in the relationship between Garak and 
Bashir- and a means of satisfying my own prurient curiosity as to the reasons for 
their little hissy fit in "A Time To Stand".

Rating: NC-17 for explicit gay sex. If you are not at least 18 years of age, or if 
you don't think consensual sex between two men is entertaining and/or the idea 
offends your moral code, please do not read this story. This is the only warning 
you will receive before transmission commences. 

Disclaimer: Paramount owns the characters, the cool playground, and the 
OFFICIAL VERSION OF EVENTS. We are but rats nibbling away at the 
edges, telling salacious stories for our own edification and amusement. We do 
solemnly swear to wash their toys and put them away neatly once we are 
finished with them, and to keep our irreverent thoughts out of the newspapers. 
We hold the dreaded sword of copyright with all due reverence and invoke its 
weighty force to keep these words from becoming the property of others. 
Download, print, all according to your desire, but put not your name upon this, 
nor sell it for gold, for fear of sniggers and jeers.

                                                         Revelation 

"And the worst part is that I had to find it out from a STRANGER! Garak got up 
from the couch, to give free rein to his anger. Bashir just sat, stunned at the 
outburst. "After all this time, I think I'm entitled to just a little consideration, a 
little trust-" Garak stopped, indignant, as Bashir started to chuckle. "You think 
this is *funny*?" 

Bashir struggled to control himself and push back the smile quirking his lips. "A 
little trust- Garak, listen to yourself! You sound almost human-" 

Garak whipped around, incensed "My dear Doctor, there's no need to be 
insulting! Are Cardassians so undeserving of simple courtesy- you might have at 
least told me yourself!" 

Bashir had had enough. "Oh yes- the great Garak, spy extraordinaire! Knows 
everything about everybody, but can't stand the thought that his transparent little 
lover isn't a completely open book to him!" Bashir was on his feet as well, the 
grin wiped away as his anger rose. "I'm sure my pathetic little secrets can't 
compare to yours-" 

"Oh- there are more?" Garak said icily. "Do tell me, Doctor, please!" 

"And deny you the pleasure of uncovering them for yourself?" Bashir was 
grinning again. "Oh no, Garak- I wouldn't dream of it!" 

"I thought we were beyond such ridiculous games" said Garak, resolving to start 
his investigation tomorrow. 

Bashir's face fell. "So did I." he said. "Garak, why are we fighting over 
something so idiotic? Honestly, it isn't something I think about every day- it 
never came up."

"Oh no?" Garak answered. "I don't think you're being completely honest. To 
hide such abilities must have taken a great deal of thought, on a daily basis." 

Bashir nodded. "Perhaps it did. I'm just so used to doing it, I never thought much 
about it. I'm sorry if I hurt you." 

"Hurt me? Doctor, you played me for a complete fool- and I want to know why." 

Bashir's face showed his complete incomprehension. Garak had had enough. 
Bashir didn't even have a chance to speak before the door shut behind Garak. 

Garak went directly to his quarters. He went to the replicator and requested a 
glass of kanaar, but once it was in his hand, he realized that it was no answer. As 
the glass shattered into the recycler, Garak seated himself in front of his terminal 
and began to make inquiries. 

Hours later, Garak was calmer, though no closer to sleep- or peace. It was all 
there on the screen, and had been there all along. How had he missed it? A 
simple background check should have revealed it- the false names, the missing 
time when Bashir had been at the hospital, the move to a completely different 
community- how had he missed it? Was he so besotted that he hadn't bothered to 
check properly? Garak realized two things then. He had placed his trust- his 
*trust* in a person unworthy of it, and he had allowed his feelings to obscure his 
professionalism. Tain had been right, he was not worthy of the Order, and he 
truly deserved his exile. Closely following was the knowledge that he wasn't 
really angry with Bashir, but with himself. The saddest part of all was that he 
still had feelings for the man, and always would- for the man Bashir could be, 
not the man he was. But things would never be the same between them. Garak 
realized then that the relationship they had was based on a lie- and it had to end. 
But how could it? How could he turn his back on a person he truly loved? No 
matter that his feelings were not reciprocated- was this what he had been 
reduced to? Forced to subsist on scraps, and never truly know love- did he know 
so little of love that this poor substitute had seemed real? 

Unbidden, his thoughts drifted back to the beginning. He had wanted the 
beautiful young man from the first moment he'd seen him. Though his attempt at 
seduction at their first meeting had been equal parts desire and domination, 
Garak had soon realized that his interest was not merely physical- and that 
Bashir was completely unaware that the possibility existed. It quickly became a 
game for Garak- how far could he take the situation without making his feelings 
obvious to the doctor? Soon it became more serious- could he manipulate Bashir 
into making the first move? That was the moment when he had crossed the line 
from fantasy into folly. It worked too, the results were more gratifying than 
Garak had dreamed they could be. 

It had all seemed so real, so exciting in the beginning. The intoxication of it 
should have put Garak on his guard, but he had been lonely for so long. He had 
pushed aside all the warnings and locked his professionalism away. After the 
disastrous failure of his implant- yet another disgrace before Tain, it didn't seem 
to matter any more. Lunches with Bashir had taken a central place in his life. 
Whether it was the easy acceptance he found there or the possibility of 
something more, Garak wasn't sure, but he pursued it with the same single 
mindedness he had brought to his work. Perhaps the risk inherent in the 
situation- Bashir was, after all, the only person on the station that Garak could 
call friend, had drawn him to it. 

After the implant had been deactivated, lunches with Bashir had taken on a 
whole new meaning. Sitting on the other side of the table, watching the Doctor's 
lovely mouth move, Garak suddenly snapped back to the moment. *He just 
asked you a question, you besotted fool! He's waiting for an answer!* 

"I'm terribly sorry, Doctor, what was that you were saying?" Garak hoped his 
friend had not noticed his stare. 

Bashir repeated himself. "I was asking about the book you gave me last week- 
_Wings of Darkness_?" He tried to keep the irritable tone out of his voice, but 
the faraway look in Garak's eyes told him that the Cardassian had still not heard 
a word. "Garak? Are you listening to me at all?" he asked, concerned. 

Garak seemed to shake himself, then smiled that charming smile of his. "I've 
been working on a rather challenging design- I do apologize, it's been plaguing 
me all morning." *Stop acting like an idiot!* he told himself sternly, though his 
face showed only the smile. 

Bashir wasn't fooled for a minute by the patent lie, his face was not nearly so 
opaque as the tailor's, but he was no wiser as to the real reason for Garak's 
preoccupation. Oh, a design had indeed kept him up most of the night before, 
but it had nothing to do with clothing. It concerned a certain doctor, and his 
pursuit of a certain tailor. 

"Garak you really don't look well" said Bashir, truly curious now. 

"Thank you for your concern, Doctor, I assure you it isn't necessary." Garak 
said, a trifle irritably in his turn. "I'm quite fine." 

Garak seemed alone, even small to Bashir at that moment, trying to cloak his 
loneliness in anger. Bashir's heart started to race, as it had at their recent 
lunches. He wanted- what did he want, he asked himself suddenly. 

Garak watched the play of emotions across the Doctor's face with satisfaction. 
The next move was obvious. "Well, Doctor, it seems that I'm not the only one 
whose mind is elsewhere today. If you'll excuse me, I do have a deadline to 
make." He got up abruptly and left. 

"Garak- wait!" Bashir jumped up and knocked over the dishes that Garak had 
purposely left too close to the edge of the table. By the time he had picked up 
the mess, the tailor was gone.

Garak's shop was open again when Bashir arrived. He came out of the back as 
the doctor entered, the careful mask of civility he wore for customers firmly in 
place.  "Why Doctor! What a pleasant surprise- what can I do for you?" 

By now, the doctor was truly angry. "You could start by explaining why you 
practically ran out of the replimat." Garak's shuttered smile was infuriating. 
Bashir almost turned and walked out of the shop right then. Nothing that came 
out of Garak's mouth would even remotely resemble the truth. He suddenly 
realized what he should have known in the replimat. If one wanted the truth out 
of Garak, this was definitely not the way to go about it. 

"I told you, Doctor, I have a commission to fulfill" Garak said. 

No, the truth was certainly not on the menu today. "Surely there are better ways 
to keep your commitments, Garak! Just what is going on?" Why was he asking a 
question that would not be answered? Why was he here at all? Bashir made no 
move for the door, however. The reason was beginning to dawn on him, and he 
decided to play this little game out to the end. 

Garak saw the change come over the doctor's face. He was glad of the long, high  
necked tunic he wore today. He could feel his body, long denied, responding 
already. "Really, Doctor! Do you think I would bother to lie simply to get out of 
the replimat?" The tension in the air was palpable, and he could feel every ridge
tingle where his clothing rubbed against them. "And even if I had, does that 
justify your barging into my shop demanding explanations?" 

Bashir knew he had no answer to that, but things had gone too far already. "I 
don't know," he said, wondering if he was talking to Garak or himself. The signs 
of Cardassian arousal were scenting the air and he could see Garak's complexion 
darkening even from across the room. He realized then that he wanted this man, 
and had for a long time. "I'm beginning to think you're incapable of telling the 
truth!" Deliberately, he stepped closer. "Just what is it you want, Garak?" 

Garak turned away, his head swimming. Blindly, he all but ran for the back of 
his shop. A moment ago, he had been in control, but now, with that one direct 
question, Bashir had snatched it away. 

A wolfish smile came to Bashir's lips as he realized the tables had turned. He 
followed the Cardassian, determined to pursue his advantage. 

Garak's back was to him as he entered the workroom. He was pulling bolts of 
cloth from the shelves that lined the walls and piling them on the cutting table. 
The colors he chose were the product of a mad imagination.

"You can't really mean to use those together." Bashir said softly.

Garak turned, the careful smile back in place. "Oh, but I do, Doctor. The 
Krysenians have a rather different set of aesthetics than most, their visible 
spectrum is quite different from either of ours."

"Garak, how far does friendship go among Cardassians?" 

" I beg your pardon, Doctor?" Garak's grip loosened slightly on the fabric in his 
arms. He turned to put it down on the table. Hadn't he spent time enough already 
imagining just how close two friends could be? 

"I mean physically- how close can friends be?" Bashir managed to keep the 
amusement out of his voice as he saw Garak's reaction, coloring it instead with 
desire. 

"How close do you want to be?" Garak breathed, his back to Bashir.

He came up behind Garak then, putting his arms around the other man and 
pulling him close. To Garak, it was as if a warm bolt of electricity had surged 
through his whole body. He couldn't move for a moment with the intensity of it. 
"Why Doctor- I never would have guessed", he said breathlessly, leaning back 
into Bashir for a moment. Then he gently pushed the doctor away. "You don't 
have to do this, you know." He avidly drank in the young man's frustration, 
knowing he would not leave now. They never did. 

Leaving was indeed the last thing on Bashir's mind. The odd mixture of 
frustrated lust, anger, and curiosity was intoxicating, and he wanted more. 
"What are you talking about?" he said, searching Garak's face for clues that were 
not there. 

Garak backed away slightly, knowing the effect Cardassian pheromones had on 
humans, knowing he would want more. "Do you really think that I don't know 
the difference between true feelings and Federation sympathy?" Garak's voice 
was scornful. Bashir's look of confusion sent another stab of excitement through 
the tailor.  Enjoying to the fullest his complete control of the situation, Garak 
walked back to the rear stockroom, knowing his quarry would pursue him.

Bashir just stood there a moment, confused, angry, and exhilarated. He went 
briefly to the front of the shop, still blessedly empty of customers, and locked 
the door.  He turned off the OPEN sign, and walked purposefully to the rear 
stockroom. If Garak wanted to play games, then fine. For once, he would not 
allow him to retreat when the conversation hit too close to home. It was obvious 
what the tailor wanted, and he would have it. As he walked, he remembered the 
last time he had pursued Garak against his will. The reason had been medical 
then, not personal, but ever since then, he had found his mind drifted in a 
different direction when it came to his friend. At first, the idea had been mildly 
disturbing- Bashir had always thought his tastes ran only to women, but that 
perception had soon mellowed into something more salacious. It was delicious 
to have a secret of his own, and if his thoughts at their lunches sometimes 
strayed from the actual topic under discussion, what harm could it do? Lately 
though, things had gotten a bit more serious. Bashir had found himself lying 
awake, wondering what those elegant ridges would feel like under his hands, 
what sounds Garak would make in passion. Until today, he had thought this 
would all remain in the realm of fantasy, but now he knew his friend shared his 
interest. Today he would have answers to at least a few of his questions. 
Determinedly, he entered the tiny stockroom. 

Garak whirled as he heard Bashir come in. "Doctor, just what do you think 
you're doing?" 

Bashir had heard that tone of voice before, calculated to embarrass him back to 
the reality Garak chose. He didn't let it dissuade him this time. "Something I 
probably should have done a long time ago." 

*Oh no, dear Julian, this was precisely the right moment- but you don't realize 
how easy it was to lead you here.* "Doctor, I really don't think you know what 
you're getting into." One of the hardest, and most elegant ways to lie- tell the 
truth in such a way that your subject does not realize the actual context. 

Bashir's smile was annoyed, and a bit predatory. "I don't?" he said. "On the 
contrary- I think we both know this was bound to happen eventually. Do you 
think I haven't noticed how you look at me?" 

"And how is that, Doctor?" Garak wanted to delay the moment as long as 
possible. He was a master at building such emotional peaks- what had been 
learned in the service of pain was just as effective used in the service of 
pleasure. He had learned that long ago. He used it now to lead his unwitting 
partner in the direction he chose. If Bashir thought it was his idea, so much the 
better. *Let your subject do the work whenever possible.* The words from a 
long ago training lecture echoed in his mind as he waited for an answer. 

It wasn't long in coming. A part of Bashir was beginning to realize that this was 
not as it seemed, but he didn't care. He grinned suddenly. "As if you wanted to 
forget lunch and take me back here instead. As if you wanted to make love to 
me until neither one of us could stand, let alone walk." He noticed the look in 
Garak's eyes.  "Shall I go on?" 

It was taking all of Garak's will by now to keep from closing the distance 
between them. He smiled hesitantly, as if unsure of himself. The answering look 
in Bashir's eyes warmed him down to his groin. Bashir stepped forward then, 
and slowly slid his arms around Garak. The Cardassian's vision blurred as the 
heat from the doctor's hands found its way through his clothing. Every ridge was 
on fire as their lips met. His arms went up, around the doctor's slim body as he 
crushed him to his chest. *Careful* he reminded himself as his lips parted under 
his partner's gentle probing. Bashir's hands were travelling up his back, and he 
broke the kiss, moving down to play his tongue across Garak's neck ridges.

"Please, Doctor!" Garak was finding speaking difficult- he was finding breathing 
difficult at this point. "I won't be able to control myself if you keep doing that." 

Bashir had begun to use his teeth. "Good." He could feel his friend's interest 
through the thick trousers, and the gentle bites wrung a soft groan out of Garak, 
but so tightly was he held that he could do little about it. He settled for what he 
could reach with his mouth, nibbling and licking around the high necked tunic. 
Garak's head was thrown back now, his hands clenched into fists in the fabric of 
the Starfleet uniform. Bashir stopped, raising his head. "What are you afraid of, 
Garak?" 

His breathing still ragged, Garak opened his eyes. He let go of Bashir, realizing 
belatedly that the other man could not move. "Afraid? Surely even you are not 
that naive, Doctor." His body was still humming with the sensation, he could 
still feel Bashir's hands roving over his back. "However, I did mean what I said 
about losing control, and I don't wish to injure you. Humans are so fragile." 

Bashir felt a stab of desire at the thought of making Garak lose control, as well 
as annoyance with his overprotective assessment of humanity. What was it about 
this man that he could evoke such a range of emotion in him? "How do you 
know? Have you ever made love with a human before?" 

Garak chuckled. "Have you ever been with a Cardassian before?" he countered. 
"We can be quite...forceful."

Bashir sighed, the tiny grin that Garak knew so well lifting the corners of his 
mouth. "You didn't answer my question", *as usual* he thought, "And you don't 
know my tastes." 

*Don't I* Garak thought smugly. *Your holosuite adventures have been quite 
educational.* But he looked around the room meaningfully. "Regardless, this is 
hardly a fit place for such things."

Bashir followed his look, a challenging smile appearing on his face. "It seems 
fine to me." He reached up to the fastening on his jumpsuit and pulled it all the 
way down. His look turned a trifle smug as Garak's eyes widened. 

"Really Doctor- are you always in this much of a hurry? I see you make love 
with as little attention as you give to your food." 

Bashir wasn't fooled, or embarrassed by the statement. "What would you suggest 
then?" he answered, moving closer to Garak again. 

"A proper bed, for one thing- unless you enjoy rolling around on the floor like 
an animal." As Garak spoke, the overwhelming desire subsided enough for 
control. 

Bashir looked at the floor appraisingly, obviously not nearly as bothered by the 
prospect as Garak was. "Yours or mine?" he asked brazenly. 

Garak laughed aloud. "Surely you aren't serious?" 

Bashir's eyes bored into Garak's as he advanced on the tailor again. "Oh yes" he 
said softly. "Never more so." He slowly took hold of Garak's hands and brought
them inside his open uniform. A sharp gasp escaped him as they slid around his 
waist.

"As you will, then" said Garak, running his hands up Bashir's chest to push the 
jumpsuit off his shoulders, running his hands down his arms as he freed him 
from the sleeves. 

He was beautiful. Garak caught his breath as he looked. The first time when 
someone knew you looked, when they could smile into your face as you smiled 
into theirs, was truly the only time. All tomorrows together, if there were to be 
any, diverged from this point, just as all the meetings before had culminated in 
it. Garak knew he would always remember that moment as eternal. 

"I am at your service", Garak murmured as he went to his knees in front of such 
loveliness. Slowly, he reached up to slide his hands up the bronzed thighs and
around the firm buttocks, pulling his lover to him as he began to kiss up from 
mid thigh. 

Bashir's hands tangled in Garak's hair and his head went back as the warm lips 
roved over the front of his thighs. A soft sigh escaped him as Garak's tongue 
began to insinuate itself between his legs. His whole body was on fire, centered 
on that wandering mouth. Chills went through him as velvet softness was 
punctuated by gentle nips. The tailor spread his fingers to take the doctor's 
weight as his knees began to weaken. Bashir didn't see the self satisfied smile as 
Garak gradually took over the task of keeping him upright. For what seemed like 
an eternity he teased and licked his willing victim, burying his face in the cleft 
between his legs, yet never touching the straining manhood standing stiff and 
unsatisfied above his head. Bashir was moaning audibly now, his eyes closed. 
Garak resisted his incoherent attempts to maneuver his mouth to his aching 
shaft. His hands were flat on the Cardassian's shoulders now, his breath coming 
in gasps. 

The pressure on his neck ridges, even through his tunic, was exquisite, and 
Garak was as hard as his partner as he explored the sweet country he had been 
dreaming of so long. A sharp cry was wrung from his subject as his tongue 
grazed his scrotum. Garak felt it down to his toes. Memories of pain and 
pleasure became as one as the beautiful sound stood in the air. He took Bashir's 
balls in his mouth, gently sucking on them as the hard prick above them rubbed 
one eye ridge. 

As the warm mouth surrounded him, Bashir's legs turned to water. Dimly he was 
aware that Garak was holding him up, and briefly, he tried to make his unsteady 
body obey him. As the tailor's tongue slowly stroked its way up the underside of 
his shaft, he went beyond thought. There was only the pleasure. Time stood still 
as Garak lovingly used his tongue to investigate every inch of it before finally 
enveloping it with his mouth. Bashir's breath froze in his throat. Pinpoints of 
light exploded behind his eyes and he would have fallen if it were not for the 
strong arms holding him up. With an incoherent cry, he came, far too soon, a 
slave to his lover's gentle ministrations. There was a slow sensation of falling, 
and then he was lying on the floor, Garak beside him. 

His questing hands encountered fabric, and Bashir made a small sound of 
frustration. Garak pushed them away from his tunic fastenings, an impish smile 
on his face.  "You *are* in a hurry, aren't you?" 

"I don't think so" Bashir said. "Do you?" He smiled his soft smile and slid his 
hand down the tailor's chest, attempting to slide it up under his garments. 

Garak grabbed his wrist, bringing the hand to his lips. "It is rather chilly in here, 
Doctor" Garak's smile was contented. "And I really don't want to continue this 
encounter on the floor." 

Bashir sighed, and rolled over to kiss the tailor, pressing their bodies together. 
Slowly, but with intensity, their tongues slid together, each learning the alien 
taste of the other. Garak's hardness pressed against him, but his explorations 
were met by Garak's hands, gentle, but impassable. His own interest was 
rekindled by the time their lips parted, but his partner smoothly got to his feet 
before he could stop him. He held out a hand for Bashir, still smiling serenely. 

"You're surely not going to leave it at that, Garak", said Bashir, taking the 
offered hand. 

"May I remind you that I have a business to run, and, pleasant as this experience 
has been, I do have to open up sometime this afternoon." Garak kept hold of
Bashir's hand as he said this, and his tone was regretful. 

"Meet me for dinner?" asked Bashir hopefully. 

It was on the tip of his tongue to refuse, but for some reason he didn't. Garak 
found himself agreeing to meet the doctor in his quarters that evening. 

The rest of the afternoon passed in a daze. Garak found himself drifting off into 
reverie. The Krysanian commission, which was quite genuine, even if it had 
nothing to do with the incident in the replimat, was completely impossible. Only 
with customers was Garak able to function normally. He should have known 
then that his judgement was not to be trusted, he thought in retrospect, but he 
had been in love. 

To love someone who returned the emotion in full measure was foolish enough, 
but to lose one's heart to one who did not was a fool's delusion. Garak got up 
and went to the replicator. This glass of kanaar he really did drink as he sat, lost 
in thought. 

The evening had exceeded his fantasies. He had no memory, surprisingly 
enough given his training, what the menu had been. All he remembered were 
those eyes, that beautiful cultured voice. Bashir had worn the shade of blue that 
made his exotic Terran skin seem to glow. He had not brought up the afternoon's 
pastime until after the table had been cleared, Garak had noted approvingly, 
though the answers he got to his questions concerning _Wings of Darkness_ 
were not exactly inspired. It had been a long time since anyone had been able to 
reduce him to utter idiocy, Garak remembered miserably, and went to get 
himself another glass of kanaar. 

It had been at the replicator that the subject had finally resurfaced. Their hands 
touched as they piled the dishes into it, and suddenly they had been in each 
other's arms again. They were both breathless by the time their lips parted. For a 
long time they stood there, caressing and kissing. Bashir was the picture of 
restraint, letting his partner set the pace. His roving mouth and soft sighs soon 
mingled with Garak's, though the Cardassian tried to keep silent. It soon became 
a game for Bashir to make him break that silence, though he made no move to 
go farther than his garments allowed. When Garak finally pushed him away, 
trembling slightly, he laughed aloud. 

"And just what is so amusing?" Garak said shakily.

"You are", answered Bashir, still smiling. "Exactly when is it acceptable for a 
Cardassian to throw caution to the winds and allow his lover to see his naked 
body?"  He walked over to the couch and sat down, waiting patiently for Garak 
to answer. 

Garak caught the grassy eyes with his own and slowly undid his tunic. "If it's 
really that important to you, you had only to ask" he said as he shrugged out of 
the garment, shaking the creases out of it and folding it neatly over a chair. "I do 
think that you need to learn to savor each moment, rather than rush blindly on to 
the next." He walked over to the couch and pulled Bashir to his feet and into his 
arms. "After all, you never can tell when the end will come." Their lips met 
again, liquid passion melding them together as their bodies touched. 

Bashir pulled back first, but made no move to remove his garments, or to 
remove any more of Garak's, though he longed to see where the ridges that 
disappeared into his trousers ended. Instead, he gently traced the ones he could 
reach, outlining them with his fingers, occasionally bending his head to kiss and 
nibble them. No, he could take his time when the situation warranted it, and he 
would see just how far Garak was willing to let his little game of restraint go. 

Garak's world was rapidly narrowing to those warm hands and soft mouth. He 
caught the pixieish grin as Bashir raised his head to see the effect he was having 
on the tailor. The human was actually enjoying this, trying to make him lose 
control! For an instant, he considered obliging him, but a much better idea 
occurred to him.  He stepped back, disentangling himself from the loving arms 
around him. "Doctor, if you wouldn't mind raising the temperature- it is a bit 
brisk in here." As Bashir instructed the computer to provide a suitable 
environment, Garak went briefly to the replicator. 

"Is it too early to go somewhere more comfortable?" Bashir cocked his head to 
one side as he asked his soft question. "I wouldn't want to rush things." The 
playful grin never left his face as he waited for an answer. 

How delicious such innocence was! Garak's need only grew as he regarded his 
partner. His design had succeeded even more spectacularly than his fantasies of 
this moment had. Such willingness to please, and coupled with a control unusual 
in itself was a rare combination. When it belonged to a being who had been the 
object of his desire for such a long time, his anticipation of the evening ahead 
only deepened. His desire to tear the confining garments from the doctor did not 
reach past his mind, though it was increasingly difficult to maintain the polite 
front. It would be interesting to see who would lose control first. "Why, thank 
you, Doctor!" he said.   "How thoughtful you are." He eyed the carpeted deck 
distastefully. "I did wonder this afternoon whether thought entered into human 
sexual practice at all." 

If the offhand remark stung, Bashir did not show it. His resolve not to allow 
Garak to direct the situation as totally as he had that afternoon only 
strengthened, though.  He made no move toward the bedroom door or his 
partner. He tried to determine the contents of the glass in the Cardassian's hand, 
but was unable to. The unfamiliar Kardasi request as he had made his selection 
had told him nothing, but Garak had not taken a sip from it either. Bashir 
quickly realized that he could chase his tail in circles all night trying to 
determine motive and likely action, or he could simply be a careful observer. He 
chose the latter course. 

Garak felt the younger man's eyes as he drank in all the details of his unclothed 
chest. *Very good, Julian* he thought approvingly. His pleasant smile grew 
more demanding as he basked in the attention. He also realized that Bashir 
would not move from his place by the bedroom door, but had relinquished 
control totally to him, just as he had wanted. Before it could become an issue, he 
moved forward, trapping his quarry against the bulkhead and kissing him 
deeply. He leaned forward, using his weight to press him more tightly into the 
wall, leaning his forearm into the cool metal above his head. Bashir's hands 
slowly explored his back and sides, his tongue gliding wetly against Garak's. He 
allowed the tailor to hold him helpless, unable even to break the kiss with his 
head trapped between the plating and Garak's mouth. Time stretched as they 
touched each other, each determined not to give advantage to the other. 

Bashir found the contest exhilarating. Never before had he had a partner who 
brought such art to closeness. Every touch, every movement of lips and tongue 
brought him higher. Unlike the afternoon's dalliance though, he found that he 
was content to go at his partner's pace, knowing that in the end, he would see 
this man helpless with pleasure before him. He went back to the game of seeing 
which touches brought the most ardent response, learning to read Garak's desire 
as he tried to drive him past the careful facade of control. 

At last, Garak moved back enough to allow Bashir room to move. His desire 
grew as his partner stayed where he was. He reached down and took hold of 
both the human's hands, and pulled him gently toward the doorway and the bed 
beyond. 

"In a hurry, are we?" Bashir asked teasingly. 

"Not at all", said Garak, pausing a moment as he spoke. "Do you really want to 
spend the entire evening against the wall?" 

Bashir shook his head, gazing blissfully into his lover's eyes. "What exactly did 
you have in mind?" 

Garak began to walk back again, pulling Bashir after him. He pushed his hands 
slowly up the fabric of the blue tunic, searching for the fastening. As his fingers 
found it, Bashir's grin grew wider. He thought he had won, but Garak knew the 
contest was far from over. Lovingly, he removed the garment, automatically 
straightening it before laying it aside. He backed Bashir up with the pressure of 
his body until his knees met the edge of the bed and he sat down. Briefly, he 
went to the other room for his glass. When he came back, the doctor was 
sprawled invitingly back on his elbows, smiling seductively up at his partner. 

"Exactly what is that?" he asked, indicating the glass. 

Garak smiled back, and sat on the edge of the bed. "Nothing dangerous, I assure 
you", he answered. "Just something to enhance the moment." He set the glass on
the low table beside the bed. "Now, if you'd just lie down?" 

There was steel in Bashir's smile now. "Not until you answer my question", he 
said. 

Garak's eyes widened in surprised innocence. "Why Doctor! Don't you trust 
me?"

"At this moment, no." Bashir said. 

"Very good", said Garak, reaching for the glass. "It is only tarrakan oil, I thought 
we might need it later" he said, dipping a finger in it and using it to outline the 
ridges on his chest. "Perfectly ordinary, I assure you."

The Terran took the glass, dipping his fingers in the oil and setting the glass 
back on the table. "Looks like fun" he said, drawing his dripping fingers down 
one neck ridge. As his fingers began to tingle, he looked at Garak in sudden 
alarm. 

"Have no fear" he said, his eyes closing briefly at the touch, "I did say it was an 
enhancement, did I not?" Garak took up a bit of the oil and rubbed it on his 
palms, then began to work on Bashir's shoulders. He stopped suddenly. "I do 
apologize, Doctor!" he said, looking down at their trousered legs. "Better to get 
out of them now, before any further damage is done." He suited action to words 
and began to remove the rest of his clothing. 

The oil across his shoulders seemed to warm itself, and Bashir needed no further 
encouragement to do the same. He climbed back on the bed and sat on his heels, 
looking up at Garak. The Cardassian walked around the bed and went back to 
what he had been doing. Bashir twisted sideways out of his oiled hands, getting 
up off the bed in the same movement. He just looked for a moment, satisfying 
his curiosity as he traced the sweeping ridges across his friend's body. 

Garak took his own chance to look again at the lovely young man, then turned 
his back so he could satisfy his obvious curiosity. . Soon a pair of hands began 
to explore the pattern of ridges there. The mingled warmth of the oil and his 
lover's hands sent waves of sensation through his body. He forgot the barely 
acceptable temperature as his back arched, as every ridge stood out like a tracery 
of fire across his body. He realized then that Bashir had covered his hands in oil 
and was using them to best advantage. His respect for his partner only grew. He 
had understood their different requirements, and had set the environmental 
controls at a point tolerable for both of them, but not truly comfortable for 
either. He was using the unfamiliar liquid Garak had provided to make up the 
difference. 

Bashir smiled smugly into Garak's back as he coated each ridge. He had never 
expected all those nights of fantasy to ever become reality, but he had spent a 
great deal of time with the medical information Tain had provided as Garak had 
begun invading his nights, making sleep problematic. The hiss of indrawn breath 
as his hands found more sensitive areas sent a delicious peak of arousal through 
him, and he leaned forward into his partner, rubbing his hardened shaft against 
the scaled backside. 

Garak stepped forward, turning to face Bashir, his pleasant smile at odds with 
his rough breathing. He met the luminous eyes, seeing the sparkle of amusement 
there as the doctor observed the reaction his touch had provoked. Then he sank 
to his knees in front of the Cardassian, looking up in disappointment as the 
object of his desire stepped back out of reach. He got to his feet, playing the 
guilty schoolboy as he stood waiting for the tailor to make the next move. 

It took all of Garak's will to stay back out of reach at that point. He closed his 
eyes briefly, willing his passion to subside to manageable levels. 

Bashir lay back on his bed, watching the play of emotion across his friend's face. 
Never before had he been able to tell so clearly what the tailor was feeling, and 
he enjoyed the sensation of control for as long as it lasted. Nothing was ever 
simple with Garak, not even sexuality, and he knew from experience that there 
were doubtless layers behind layers even now when he seemed so open. He 
found this game of control to be incredible, never realizing that response could 
be built on response in quite this way, but still had no clue as to why Garak felt 
it necessary to take it this far. Anyone could see that he was on the verge of 
delirium, and Bashir longed to push him over the edge. 

Garak slowly lay down beside his silken young man, even the sheets sending 
chills through his sensitized flesh. He forgot everything, even the wicked smile 
of triumph on the Doctor's face as those slick hands closed on his neck ridges. 
Heat flowed up his neck, seeming to invade even his brain in a sheet of fire. 
Reason fled then, there was no room for it in the face of overwhelming passion. 
There were no individual sensations anymore, his whole body was alive with 
Bashir's touch as he moved down the ridged chest, slowly grinding lips and 
tongue into the slippery flesh. 

Bashir's mouth was on fire with the oil, but the heat seemed to come from 
Garak's body, and it was wonderful. As Garak's control lessened, his only grew, 
and the diamond edged clarity showed his every response clearly, and etched his 
own into his body with laserlike precision. By the time he reached the object of 
his desire, standing straight out from the Cardassian's body, he knew he had 
won. He stopped for a moment to look, wringing a frustrated moan from his 
friend. *And who is in a hurry now?* he thought irreverently. Garak lay, half on 
his side, one hand clenched tightly into the sheets, his hoarse breathing filling 
the room. Bashir slid down farther, running his hands down the grey thighs, 
tracing the ridges there. He began to kiss and lick the grey belly, then slowly 
took the length of his friend in his mouth.

Garak felt the air forced from his lungs as he disappeared into Bashir's mouth, as 
he drowned in sensation. He struggled to hold back his response, but it was too 
late. He exploded in orgasm, his come flowing down his lover's throat. Closely 
following the incredible sense of release was an equally intense sense of shame 
at having lost control so totally, which just as quickly transmuted to anger. He 
rolled over, pinning his partner underneath him, determined to make him pay for 
the lapse. 

The brief fear Bashir felt as Garak's face changed turned to passion and he 
submitted eagerly as the still hard Cardassian, his shaft glistening from his 
lover's mouth, pushed roughly inside him. Bashir had expected pain, but there 
was none, only heat, fullness, and a passion that reached to his hairline. He felt 
himself lifted, and held against the myriad scales and ridges as Garak fucked 
him thoroughly, with an intensity that made him see stars. 

Garak took his time inside Bashir, determined to prove to himself that he could 
do so. He could think now, and drank in his lover's every movement, using the 
information in every response to drive him ever higher. Slowly he slid as far into 
the inviting depths as he could, pausing to feel the tightness and warmth, 
clamping his lover in his arms with Cardassian strength when he would have 
wrested control from him, making him submit totally to his rule. And the young 
man did submit totally then, without reserve or shame. He let the waves of 
pleasure carry him, surrendering to the experience in a way that made Garak 
remember suddenly that there was an art to yielding as well as control. Bashir 
did not give up anything by it, and his lover knew he had won nothing as they 
both exploded in orgasm. 

                                                            * * *

Garak went to the replicator for another glass of kanaar. He should have known, 
he had lost everything in that moment, seduced by the endless possibilities that 
night together had promised. In his mastery had been his downfall. Even now it 
was so he realized, as his frustrated body responded to the tide of memory. 

                                                            * * *

When Garak stormed out of his quarters, Bashir almost yielded to the impulse to 
follow him. His anger and indignation rose, choking him as he remembered all 
the times Garak had kept secrets from him, all the little indignities he had 
overlooked for love of the man. If there was lack of trust in this relationship,
Bashir was certainly not the one responsible for it! He flung himself on the 
couch, reaching vainly for calm. Who did Garak think he was? He felt the anger 
ebb, transmuting to hurt, and then to a dark sense of melancholy. Couldn't Garak 
see that he loved him? Didn't he feel love in return? If he were willing to throw 
tantrums like this just for the sake of one secret, how much did this relationship 
really mean to him? 

This was not the first time Bashir had struggled with the loneliness that had been 
an inseparable part of his genetic enhancement. He had been set apart, given 
great gifts, but this had always been the price. It had almost cost him his career 
this time. Though he was grateful it was at last out in the open, would it cost him 
his lover as well? The sadness at Garak's lack of understanding was almost 
overwhelming. Why didn't the man trust him? Why was it so important for him 
to know everything about Bashir's past? Was this how it would be? Every time 
Garak discovered another detail of his life, would he be subjected to another 
accusation? If there were to be a next time, he thought miserably. It was a long 
time before he slept that night. 

                                                            * * *

It hadn't lasted, just as Garak had known it would not. He knew the difference 
between love and lust, even if Bashir did not. Oh, they still saw each other, and 
the first few months had been a time of joy and discovery for both of them, but 
they had drifted apart. His trip to the Gamma Quadrant with Odo had driven the 
first wedge between them. Bashir knew that there was something Garak was not 
telling him, and he had been unable to drop the subject, or get answers from his 
friend.  Soon after, he became involved with one of Quark's Dabo girls and even 
their lunchtime conversations had fallen by the wayside. 

Garak had invaded his holosuite program in desperation. The tawdry 
relationship between Bashir and Leeta appeared to be cooling, only to be 
replaced by something even more unreal, and Garak's disgust, as well as the 
eternal boredom of life on the station had driven him to it. Gleefully he had 
chased away the artificial doxies the program seemed to be liberally supplied 
with, and had ensconced himself, like an unwanted relative, to see exactly what 
was so compelling about Bashir's latest pastime.

After the whole unpleasant affair had been over, Bashir had suggested that they 
go back to lunch as if nothing had ever happened, and Garak had fallen gladly 
back into the routine. He slipped back into reverie as he recalled their "lunch" in 
the holosuite the next day. 

Garak approached the door to the holosuite slowly. The odd mixture of hope and 
fear had been exhilarating, and he wanted more, regardless of the consequences.
The night before, he had lain awake, tortured by memories and fantasies, 
knowing that Bashir was not suitable, but unable to help himself. He 
remembered the gun in the Doctor's hand, the look on his face as he had shot 
him in exquisite detail. He had hidden the intensely erotic quality the moment 
had held for him from his attacker, but he could not hide from himself. Was it 
the fact that Bashir had done something completely unexpected, or that he had 
forced Garak to accede to his wishes? Never before had he looked so powerful, 
so in control. 

Bashir was waiting, flung carelessly into a comfortable chair in the foyer of the 
restaurant where he could survey the scene he had created. He stood as the 
heavy doors slid open to admit Garak. The Cardassian took a moment to 
compose himself and take in the atmosphere. The restaurant was high above 
what he assumed to be Hong Kong, and the view was spectacular. Windows ran 
from floor to ceiling on three sides, and the city lay spread out before them. 
Beyond, the ocean glittered in the sun. "Doctor, this is marvelous!" Garak said. 
"The decor still leaves a bit to be desired," his eyes took in the garish chartreuse 
carpet and salmon chairs, "but the view is certainly worth it." 

Bashir rose, smoothing his immaculate pale green suit. Garak noted with some 
amusement that it almost complemented the awful colors of the room, even as it 
set off his hazel eyes. "The dining room is a bit easier on the eyes, I think," he 
said. "Shall we?" He indicated the door Garak had entered through. 

Beyond the door, painted the same atrocious green as the walls and window 
trim, a staircase led up to a lavish penthouse. The large room was quite warm, 
the sun cut to a manageable level by the tinted glass skylight that covered most 
of the ceiling. Bashir quickly divested himself of his jacket, hanging it on a 
coatrack near the door. As he was doing so, Garak took in the room. A table set 
for two waited under a window, an assortment of foods Garak didn't recognize 
on it. The carpet was a rich, textured red, the walls papered in dark red brocade. 
The center of the room was empty, but a sofa and two chairs upholstered in a 
somewhat garish gold sat in front of one of the large windows commanding a 
view of the harbor. Black velvet drapes were held back from the windows by 
satin cords. Privately, Garak thought it all in execrable taste, but it was at least 
better than the foyer. 

Bashir had other things than lunch on his mind. He turned from the coatrack and 
backed Garak up against the door. As his warm lips touched the Cardassian's 
throat, Garak felt his knees go weak. He gently pushed the human away. "I think 
you mistake me for one of your holosuite fantasies, Doctor" he said, unwilling to 
be captured so easily. 

Bashir smiled lazily, knowing the game for what it was. He too had lain awake 
the night before, and had fantasized this moment from a hundred different 
angles. He knew the reality would surpass them. He took hold of Garak's hands, 
which lay flat against his shoulders, and brought them to his lips. "Oh, no," he 
said. "Not at all.  Fantasies are far less interesting."  He took one of the 
Cardassian's fingers in his mouth and sucked gently, watching the sensation go 
through Garak's body with relish. Lunch would indeed be the most interesting 
meal of the day. 

Garak closed his eyes, wishing he had the will to stop what was happening, but 
knowing that he did not. With animal passion, he pulled the human to him, dizzy 
with need. He managed to stop himself from ripping through the layers of 
clothing that separated them as his lips closed on Bashir's hungrily. He felt the 
wall against his back again as he was pushed into it. Bashir returned the kiss 
eagerly, his arms going around Garak's neck as they succumbed to their 
combined passion. He buried his hands in the black hair, his fingers brushing the 
ridged neck as their tongues slid together. 

Bashir's mouth was everywhere, now closing on the curve of his jaw, or slipping 
delicately along an eyeridge, or dancing soft kisses on his closed eyelids. Garak 
was overcome. He was brought abruptly back to himself as he felt Bashir's fine 
white shirt tear beneath his hands. He opened his eyes to find the doctor 
grinning wickedly at him, obviously quite pleased with himself. Garak grinned 
back as he slowly continued to rip the garment off Bashir's upper body, filling 
his hands with the warm flesh underneath. The human's head was thrown back 
now, his soft sounds of pleasure firing Garak's blood as he pulled the remains of 
the shirt off and dropped them to the floor. Now the Cardassian filled his mouth 
with the silky skin, tasting salt as he made his way down the firm stomach. The 
scent of him was intoxicating, and it mixed with his own spiciness as he went 
lower. 

Bashir's hands closed on his neck ridges, now dark with arousal, and Garak's 
stifled groan sent a bolt of electricity down his spine. He opened his eyes to look 
at the Cardassian beneath him, then sank to his knees to unfasten the elegant 
tunic the tailor wore, wanting to feel what lay underneath against him.

Garak put his hands on Bashir's bare shoulders, allowing the intimacy, grateful 
for the chance to get himself back under control. That control was an illusion. 
The feel of the smooth, unridged skin was incredible, and Garak found himself 
trailing his fingers up the sides of his partner's neck, burying his hands in the 
soft hair. Gently, he pulled the full lips closer to meet his own. The peculiar taste 
of the human mouth filled his senses, and nothing else mattered as he crushed 
his lover to his chest. 

Bashir submitted willingly, sliding his hands under the open tunic. He ran his 
fingernails around the waistband of the Cardassian's trousers, then slid his hands 
inside to pull the taut grey buttocks forward. Garak's hardness ground against 
his, and his gasp of pleasure was muffled against Bashir's mouth. The doctor 
leaned forward, trying to push his lover to the floor, but Garak pushed back with 
Cardassian strength. Bashir pushed back, trying to get a proper hold, to push the 
larger man to the carpet. 

Garak chuckled, then suddenly moved sideways and Bashir was on his back, his 
hands pinned to the floor and Garak's blue eyes laughing down into his. "I do 
approve of your choice of appetizers, Doctor", he said, then bent his head to trail 
kisses down the beautiful chest. His prisoner groaned helplessly as the soft 
tongue dipped lower, then licked around the fastening of his trousers. The grip 
on his wrists never slackened, though. "What a pity the main course is still 
unavailable," he murmured against the taut belly. Then he grabbed the front 
fastening with his teeth, unhooking it, then pulled sideways and up to unzip 
them. "How thoughtful" Garak said hoarsely as he discovered nothing 
underneath the trousers but Bashir's rampant manhood. 

The soft mouth enveloped him wetly, sending shivers through his entire body. 
All too quickly he came, his cries echoing off the walls of the holosuite. 

Garak came back to himself, disgusted with his behavior as he realized what he 
had done. His naked need had been obvious to Bashir, and after the way the man 
had treated him, he had intended to make him pay. How many nights had he 
spent visualizing his revenge? Bashir should have been helpless underneath him, 
begging for release! The wave of sensation fell away, leaving him hard and 
unsatisfied.  He felt as if he had been dropped from one of the windows of this 
penthouse, and had landed hard on the street below. His words came back to 
mock him. *You should savor your food*...*True pleasure takes time*...He 
rolled off the Doctor to lie on his back on the deeply padded carpet. He had 
taken the young man like some crazed, insensate animal! 

Beside Garak, Bashir's rough breathing slowed as he floated back to awareness. 
His whole body was still humming with the aftermath of orgasm. He rolled over 
on one elbow, to find Garak staring up through the tinted skylight at the sky. He 
put his hand on the scaled chest. The tailor seemed to shake himself, then smiled 
pleasantly at his companion. Bashir's heart sank, though he smiled back. He 
didn't expect the tailor to share his innermost thoughts, but the reserve that had 
always been a part of their lovemaking hurt, and, try as he might, Bashir had 
been unable to breach it. Part of him knew that it was foolish to expect a man 
like Garak to open up to him. but he also knew that one of the things he needed 
from a lover was just this sort of sharing. It had been Garak's reticence that had 
driven him away in the first place. Something momentous had happened to him 
in the Gamma quadrant after the destruction of his shop, but Garak had refused 
to tell him even the barest outline of events. 

"Getting out of Quark's without a shirt is going to be interesting," Bashir teased, 
playfully tracing the scales and ridges on Garak's chest. 

Garak sighed. "I do apologize, Doctor. My lack of self control shouldn't be a 
source of embarassment." 

"Oh, I'm not embarassed," said Bashir. "Are you?" He rolled over on top of the 
Cardassian, continuing his leisurely exploration. 

"No," said Garak untruthfully. "Not yet, anyway," he added, looking 
meaningfully at the door. "I'd be happy to go down to my shop and rectify my 
mistake, though."  He attempted to sit up, but Bashir stayed where he was. 

"Leaving so soon?" He asked. "We haven't even had lunch yet." He began to 
kiss Garak's neck and chest. 

The soft pressure of lips and tongue was exquisite, and Garak yielded to it, his 
shame deepening at his weakness. Ecstasy and hopelessness were one as he let
Bashir remove the rest of his clothing. He was the helpless one as the soft mouth 
and gentle hands wrung animal sounds of passion from him, as they possessed 
him utterly. When it was over, he wanted to cry, to hide. Instead, he let his 
companion hold him until the worst of it had passed. Bashir never said a word, 
he had just held him, gently stroking him, kissing him with quiet intensity. 

The glass shattered against the wall as the memory ran its course, and Garak at 
last gave in to his misery.

                                                            * * *

Bashir woke from uneasy dreams. He rolled over, pulling the blanket to him and 
closing his eyes, but the images refused to fade. 

"Computer- time," he asked. 

"It is 0500," said the artificial voice. 

Bashir groaned and turned over on his back, knowing he wouldn't be able to get 
back to sleep now. Damn Garak anyway! If the tailor thought so little of what 
they had that he was willing to throw it away over such a silly 
misunderstanding, then let him! Unwillingly, he climbed out of bed and went to 
the replicator. 

By lunchtime, understanding had won out over anger. Bashir went to Garak's 
shop, hoping the tailor would feel the same. Garak was in the workroom, bent 
over a mass of dark silk. He looked up with his usual civil smile. 

"Doctor! How nice of you to come- I'm afraid I'll be a few minutes, this hem is 
taking a little longer than I anticipated," he said. "Don't let me keep you from 
your lunch though- I could meet you in the replimat when I finish." 

Bashir felt the anger return, knowing the evasion for what it was. Deliberately 
he sat down on the other side of the worktable, a smile as false as Garak's firmly 
in place. "Oh, I'm not in a hurry today," he answered. "Take your time." 

If Garak was annoyed at this, he gave no sign. He continued to work 
methodically. As it became obvious to Bashir that he was trying to outwait him, 
his anger grew, and he was determined not to allow the tailor to win. Since his 
appetite was long since destroyed, it really didn't matter. 

"I was thinking about what you said last night," Bashir said suddenly. 

Garak looked up inquiringly, but said nothing. 

"I honestly didn't realize it was so important an issue," Bashir went on. 

Garak shook his head and went back to the hem. "Please, don't trouble yourself, 
Doctor," he answered. "It really was of no consequence--I apologize for
overrreacting." He cut the last thread precisely and rose, shaking out the dress 
and crossing the room to put it neatly on a hanger. "Shall we?" 

Bashir sighed, and followed his friend to the replimat. Every effort he made to 
bring up the subject again was neatly deflected, though there was hardly time for 
much discussion in the little time he had left. Bashir was frustrated and confused 
by the end of the meal, but not really surprised. He left the table determined to 
sort out the situation. 

As soon as his shift was over, he went to Garak's quarters. When the door 
opened, his trained medical eye took in the exhaustion on the Cardassian's face, 
and the faint look of surprise, quickly covered. 

"Why, Doctor! To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" Was Garak's 
welcoming smile a little forced? "Do come in!" 

"I thought that since neither of us got much to eat at lunch today, we could have 
dinner instead," Bashir answered. "Have you eaten yet?" 

"No," said Garak. "Where did you have in mind?" 

"Here," said Bashir simply. He looked inquiringly at his friend, wondering if the 
brief look of annoyance had been his imagination. 

"As you wish." Garak went to the replicator. "What would you like?" 

Soon they were both seated, plates of food in front of them. Bashir ate as slowly 
as possible, knowing that there was a good chance he would be asked to leave
once he had finished. 

"I'm glad you came tonight," Garak said suddenly. He knew that Bashir would 
pursue the topic of his enhancement and the resulting argument unless he did 
something about it quickly. The young man was too valuable an ally and entirely 
too persistent to allow matters to stand as they had that afternoon. 

Bashir looked up from his plate, surprised. "So am I," he answered. "I didn't 
sleep well last night after you left". He looked at his lover frankly. "It doesn't 
look like you did either".

Garak laughed, shaking his head. "Your powers of observation aren't as keen as 
you'd like to think, Doctor", he answered. "Perhaps your lack of sleep is to 
blame. I assure you, it would take more than one unpleasant conversation to 
disturb me." 

Liar, Bashir thought. 

Garak saw the failure of his lie in his companion's eyes. He really was tired, he 
thought, to be bested so easily. "I'm sorry such a silly misunderstanding caused 
you to lose any sleep, Julian", he said, noting with satisfaction the Doctor's 
pleased reaction to the use of his given name. It was so easy to lead the poor 
creature in the direction he chose. A part of him wept at the necessity for 
deception. He silenced it mercilessly, reminding himself that Bashir was not the 
man he had thought he was, and remembering the harsh realities of exile. Like it 
or not, the beautiful doctor was a most useful ally, and Garak needed his aid and 
sympathy. 

Bashir covered his confusion with a gentle smile. He didn't believe Garak's 
abrupt reversal for a moment, but the reasons for it eluded him. He knew the 
truth was hidden somewhere between the events of the last few days and this 
moment, if he could only find it. The challenge of discovering and 
understanding the layered meanings behind Garak's every word and action was 
stimulating, and had been one of the things that had attracted him to the 
enigmatic Cardassian in the first place, but it was no substitute for the intimacy 
Bashir craved, and had hoped to have achieved by now. 

"Believe me, Garak", he answered, "between my parents, Doctor Zimmerman 
and Starfleet, I have more than enough reasons to lose sleep". He plunged on, 
knowing that the evening would be drowned in meaningless pleasantries if he 
didn't. "I am curious about Cardassian expectations, though--what is the role of 
truth in a relationship among your people"? There. He had said it. He waited 
expectantly for either an answer, or to be requested to leave. 

Garak didn't know what he had expected from his friend, but this was definitely 
not it. Caught off-guard, he took refuge in the impersonal cultural aspect of the 
inquiry. "It rather depends on the relationship in question, Doctor". He sat back 
in his chair. "Loyalty to one's partner is far more important than absolute 
truthfulness, though where children are involved, say within the marriage bond, 
one's past and family connections are very important". Damn! Why had he let 
his tongue run away with him like that? This human was far too perceptive. 

"I was thinking of our relationship, actually", Bashir prompted. "I wondered if 
the line I crossed last night was personal or cultural--and I wanted to avoid 
doing it again". 

Garak sifted through his mind for an answer that would appease his tormentor. 
"A little of both", he finally said. 

"Could you be a little more specific", Bashir asked, when Garak showed no 
signs of continuing. 

Anger flashed through Garak--How dare this insolent pup question him like this! 
He hid behind a benevolent smile though, and fought to salvage the situation. 
"You were quite right, Julian", he said. "I thought there were no secrets hidden 
in your past, and I reacted badly when I found that there were". He laced his 
hands together, leaning his elbows on the table. "Can we put the whole 
unpleasant affair behind us now and simply enjoy what we have?" 

Bashir smiled back, though his heart wasn't in it. Was the man even capable of 
telling the truth? What could possibly be so damaging that Garak would go to 
these lengths to hide it? 

Garak saw the light die in the dark eyes across the table. He wasn't sure what 
made him sadder, that or the failure of his deception. Suddenly he was too tired 
to care. This was pointless, like most of his miserable existence on this cursed 
station. He was grateful when Bashir left him alone. 

                                                            * * *

Soon after, Bashir stood looking out at the stars through the viewport in his 
quarters. It was a very long time before he slept. 


THE END


The Archivist
Copyright 1998