This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. STAR TREK: DEEP SPACE NINE is a Registered Trademark of Paramount Pictures. Copyright (c) 1996 by Paramount Pictures. All Rights Reserved. No infringement was meant. "Dry Those Tears" copyright (c) 1996 by BGM - PG-13 ~~~ The nurses were cold, efficient. Garak might have appreciated their professionalism in another instance, but he sure as hell resented it now. How dare they? How dare they be so damn emotionless in face of such dire consequences? Yet he was pretty sure they thought the same of him. Standing there in the doorway of the infirmary, hand casually leaned over the curb of the entrance while the other remained slack at his side. Face sullen, eyes distant as they studied the general scuffle being displayed around that one single biobed in the infirmary's ICU. At his side was Major Kira, rubbing her hands unconsciously over her arms, velvet eyes reflecting the worry within. Further off Sisko, Odo, and others Garak had no desire to see or talk to. He wanted to be there alone. Alone so he could cry, smash things, bawl until his sore throat could produce no sound. He wanted nothing better than leap forward, fling the crimson nurses across the room and rock his lover in his arms. But he didn't. He waited, his anxiousness matching the others; simply cloaking it more effectively. And though he refrained from glancing at them, he knew what was going on through their mind. Rumors about his romantic relationship with Julian Bashir had spread all over the station like wildfire, and he was certain none of the senior staff had been immune to them as well. But he didn't care. He could proclaim it with his loudest voice over the public comm link and he wouldn't care. A month ago he would have ... It had been so quiet a few hours ago. They'd shared a quiet breakfast together after waking up from a long and delightful night of passion. He'd surprised his beloved doctor by bringing their meal to the bed. They'd snuggled within the warm covers while Garak offered Julian the diced fruits with his fingers. After a few scoops, the doctor had pushed away the tray and proceeded to repay the Cardassian for his kindness, seductively informing him that his appetite had oddly turned to more exquisite delights. And then the bomb fell. A small, innocent call from one of his nurses beckoning his assistance in airlock four. A malfunction in the door mechanism had trapped a man's foot in the outer doorway, and though they had pried the Bajoran free, the nurses were wary to move him from the small airlock. When the malfunction had been seemingly repaired, the ship which had been docked there had moved off, and the man had become suddenly hysterical about being enclosed in an airlock without protection on the other side. So Julian had gone. He'd dressed and smiled affectionately at the tailor, throwing on his uniform with habitual ease. When he'd fully slipped into his professional persona, Garak had grinned and tousled his hair for good measure. Chiding him playfully, Julian had picked up his medkit and left swiftly. The next he'd heard of him, it was from Commander Dax, informing him that Doctor Bashir had been in an accident. Garak didn't want the details. She'd offered, but he wanted to hear none of it. He *knew* what had happened. Had dreaded it upon hearing the nurse's conveyance of the man's predicament to Bashir the very same morning. And when he'd arrived to the infirmary, his suspicions were confirmed. As he'd feared, the airlock had malfunctioned again, just as Julian had managed to move the injured man into the corridor. It'd opened of its own volition, and Julian had been projected backwards by the sheer pulling force of space. His right hand had gripped the doorway's frame with impossible strength while the nurses hung onto the corridor wall for support. The station had then focused its emergency procedures on the cause, rolling the inner airlock with cold celerity. Thus Julian was left trapped in space while the only thing keeping him attached to the station was a hand quickly weakening under the lack of oxygen and tremendous pressure drumming against his ears. Yet somehow, barely conscious, he'd manage to pull himself inside, shut the door close, and slumber into darkness while all around him air refused to seep in from the corridor to revive him. When they eventually flooded the airlock with oxygen, it had been too late. He'd been pronounced dead on arrival. And now the nurses were working to lift that fate. Working close to two hours now, stimulating his brain, hooking him to all sorts of computers Garak had blocked out. The only thing that he focused on right now was Julian's face, now visible between the red smocks of his nurses. Pale, almost white; Garak wanted to cry. But he stifled it, buried it deeply into his soul while he fought to remain on his feet. The young man's eyes were closed, his lips curved and parted as his body shook from another computer-induced seizure. His head rolled heavily to the side by the movement, turning away from the Cardassian, exposing a long slender neck devoid of the golden hue Garak had come to cherish. Finally, when Garak thought he would pierce skin by the strangling of his fists, he turned to Kira and said in a low whisper, "Major, pray tell me when the procedure is over." And then he left, his feet carrying him lightly across the Promenade when all he was thinking of was running like hell. Running. Where? He didn't care. Probably to the same airlock and kill himself there. Instead he flung himself into his quarters, shut the lights, curled into a ball and rocked. He began talking to himself in Cardassian, half-singing, half-weeping as he tried to think of something else than Julian's limp body stretched under computers and nurses. It was no use. His mind kept revolving around Julian. Julian's smile. Julian's wide dark eyes. Julian's laugh, Julian's kisses, Julian's skin color, Julian, Julian, Julian ... Anger flared inside the tailor and he grasped his head with his hands, desperately trying to shut him out. But the memories kept coming back, like a cruel teasing demon, picking at him until he bled, until he drowned in his own sorrow ... Pick pick pick. Life without Julian. Life without *his* Julian. Garak's end. He wouldn't go on, he *couldn't* go on. There was a time in his life where he'd have shrugged and dismissed the whole deal. Now he was seriously thinking of killing himself ... Pick pick pick. ... No, not himself in the end, just the pain. A pain no implant in the universe could expunge, a sorrow so deep no psychologist could drive out. It was ingrained. Julian had become a part of him. He'd heard the cliches in old Terran novels, how women became "a part" of their lovers, and how men dissolved into the same predicament. He'd laughed at that, wondering how a being could effectually become so taken with another, that he'd consider that person part of his own existence. Garak had been a lone man throughout his life. He'd never allowed anyone to pierce through one or two layers of his facade. After years of service, Enabran Tain had reached the third. Julian had dissolved all of them in one look. That one, nervous, shy look he'd given him the first time they'd met. And Garak had become addicted to it since. Pick pick pick. And now the look was gone. No longer would he gaze into those velvety chocolate brown eyes and see the love reflected in it. That precious love Garak had clung to without knowing. He'd become vulnerable, something he'd vowed never to allow regardless of the situation. He'd lost everything with his exile, but he held on to his strength of character, his inner confidence. And without realizing it, like a silent assassin, it'd crept up behind him and cruelly stabbed him in the back ... he'd fallen for Julian and opened his heart again to love. Pick pick pick. In the end he was grateful for it ... Why? Why would he be grateful for something which had the power to consume him, to dull his senses, to effectively dissolve his arrogance? He hated what he'd become ... a raw mass of sorrow and anger, rocking in the darkness. This wasn't him! This wasn't Garak ... mighty Garak who'd thrown hurtful words at Julian when the young man had fought to save him ... powerful Garak who'd manipulated and connived his way to supremacy. Cold Garak who'd tortured and hurt countless people without a second thought to their pain ... ... weak defenseless Garak who'd crumbled in the face of a young man's love. Pick pick pi-- >From the distant, a bell chimed, beckoning him back to reality. He shook his head, wondering if he was now beginning to hallucinate. Now he was certain it was real as it chimed again, and he was swiftly on his feet by the time the door opened. Kira stood in the doorway, her face dropping at the sight greeting her. Unheeded, tears abundantly filled the Cardassian's face, overflowing the red rimmed eyes. She choked back a sob of her own and smiled. "Garak," she said softly. "It's all right ... *he's* all right. The nurses managed to revive him ... he's going to be fine." Garak was speechless. The first thought which struck him was *All this sorrow for nothing?* The second followed so closely behind it drowned the rest of his first. *My Julian is alive ...* More tears sprang to his eyes as he nodded stiffly at the Bajoran. He followed her out of his quarters, into the corridor and toward the infirmary. His feet carried him lightly across the Promenade when all he could think of was running into his beloved Julian's arms. THE END ************************************ Sophie Masse - soma@johnabbott.qc.ca ************************************