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. 
 
"Evacuee" copyright (c) 1996 by BGM (Sophie Masse) - PG-13  
 
Note 1)  Thanks to Pam Buickel and her Phantasmagoria, who got me  
inspired to try my hand at a The Die is Cast sequel.  Thanks Pam :)   
 
Note 2)  Well, as usual, I'm a late bloomer  ;)  About ... what;  three,  
four months? after the initial challenge was given for Mary's  
"Different Odds" zine, I woke up and did one of my own.  This is based on  
that original challenge: What if Julian was the one Garak had been  
ordered to torture in The Die is Cast?  So here it is.  It's not quite the same 
as those I've seen :)   
 
~~~ 
 
       
 Walking to the holosuites was an unfolding death march for  him.  
Each step a stab of pain, each stride a dreadful reminder of what  
was to come. 
        
But he had to know.  
        
Behind him lay the tattered, still disordered remains of his shop.   
Starfleeters hadn't bothered to clean his mess while he'd been gone, and  
right they'd been to leave the matter to him.  He had been responsible for  
it after all, hadn't he? 
        
Another cleansing breath before entering the dark animated  
tavern.  It offered him partial comfort, though still the disturbing images  
of Odo danced in his mind.  His skin a ghastly parody of dried  
parchment, flaking off of him at the merest movement.   
        
And he'd watched.  Watched and begged and pleaded for him  
to divulge a piece of information.  Anything.  Just so he could tell  
Enabran he'd succeeded.  That he hadn't lost his edge after six years of  
exile; four of them among sensitive humans and spiritual Bajorans.   
        
And it was over now.  Blessedly over, and still he continued to  
torment himself.  Disturbing images had invaded his dreams during his  
fitful attempts of sleep on his way back.  Images of not Odo squirming  
and hugging himself into a ball against the corner, but another.  One  
closer to him.   
       
 He had to know.   
       
 Quark was frowning at him now.  Frowning at his request;  
confused over the disquieting nature of his desired program.  No protests  
were uttered, however, as he flipped through his collection.  Only a  
glance; wary, cautious.   
       
 Finally he found the amber rod, buried deeply beneath the  
newer programs.  "You realise this hasn't been used since the  
Occupation," he said, his fingers tightening almost inconspicuously  
around the stick before relinquishing it to his customer.   
        
"Thank you for reminding me," he answered curtly, his fingers  
absently caressing the rod.  "I'll also thank you to place a privacy lock  
on holosuite gamma.  And another thing," he whispered, leaning forth  
over the bar.  Invited into the conspiracy, Quark closed in.  "I will need a  
character node.  Twenty slips I believe the price is."  He splayed his hand  
over the bar, and a small mound of latinum was there when he retracted  
it.  Quark's practised gaze counted forty.  "For your silence," his client  
added, and Quark knew the gravity of the odd solicitation. 
        
The Ferengi widened his eyes as his mind processed his client's  
demand.  A character node, coupled with the program he'd just  
renounced; this told him all.   
       
There was not a snide remark ready in his mouth as he pulled  
back slowly.  No sarcastic banter thrown at his patron.  Only a slight  
nod, and the dreaded question.  "Which node do you want?" 
      
The man took a deep breath, chased away a foolish flutter of  
nervousness from his stomach and said, "Dr Bashir's." 
 
~~~      
 
        
The room was absurdly quiet when Elim Garak stepped  
through the holosuite's entrance.  So close to the tavern's clamour would  
lead one to wonder why the solitary corridor was so serene. 
        
The quietness did nothing to appease him however.  In fact, it  
only served to heighten his anxiety.  He frowned and berated himself.   
        
He had to know.   
        
"Computer," he said, his voice not above a whisper as he slid  
the rods into the appropriate slots.  "Initiate program." 
        
The room dissolved around him, transmuting quickly into the  
pre-arranged setting of an interrogation chamber.  Darkness ruled as he  
stepped further into the room, allowing the doors to close behind him and  
disappear against the drab colourless walls.    There was a faint  
antiseptic smell about the air, wafting silently around him.  The floor so  
lustrous Garak felt a wave of dizziness seeing the high ceiling falling  
beneath him.  Against his hip he felt the corner of a desk, and when he  
looked down his heart pinched in remembrance.  The long slick table,  
empty of nonsensical things save for a computer terminal and a lonely  
remote control settled primly before the looming chair.          
        
Garak stole a sigh as he sank into the creaking leather, feeling  
the caressing material ceding under his weight.  Cool, yet oddly  
comforting.  Oh how he'd miss those days.   
        
He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in the familiar  
contours, feeling a faint stirring at his groin for what was to come.  No  
longer did he dread the exercise.  No longer did nausea threaten to shake  
him out of his secret dark pleasure.  The office had done it.  The  
memories.  All had crashed the thin sensitivity he'd acquired throughout  
his exile.  So thin, like a delicate film of ice.  And the room a child's  
foot, playfully destroying it.       
        
He sighed again, this time in pleasure, and reached out to caress  
the small control.  The familiar stark lines biting into his flesh, raw  
power enticing him.  When he glanced down at his lap, he found himself  
partially hard, the thick trousers stretched with treachery.  His gaze  
encompassed the room with an appraising gaze.  Quiet, betraying  
longing lighted his intense azure eyes.   
        
"Guards, bring in the prisoner," he called to thin air, knowing  
all of his requests would be obeyed.  Mindlessly.  Obeyed by all but the  
young man yelling in protest across the hall.  The young man being  
pulled into the room by a pair of strong Cardassian arms.        
        
"Sit him down," he asked, and smiled privately as the young  
man focused his angry dark gaze at him.  The stirring at his groin grew  
insistent.  "Stay," he demanded of him and gestured the guards to leave  
him.  When they were gone, silence settled. 
        
"Doctor," he smiled finally, enlacing his fingers primly  
against the cold touch of his polished desk.  He caught a fleeting glance  
of his reflection, and shied away from it.     
        
"What are you doing Garak?" Julian asked, and Garak  
frowned.   
        
"Why, I thought your being brought here was self-explanatory  
enough my dear Doctor.  Or do you not recognise an interrogation  
chamber when you see one?" 
        
He began to squirm in his seat.  Garak's heart beat a little faster  
as he watched him, his tongue licking away the dryness of his lips.  How  
he enjoyed the sight of his prisoners as the severity of their predicament  
dawned on them.     
        
"Garak, stop this," he said, and Garak had an intense urge to  
laugh at the utter flippancy of his request.  "You know I don't have  
anything worthwhile to offer you." 
        
Garak shrugged pleasantly, waving his hand dismissively.  "I  
don't know that Doctor.  I haven't begun the interrogation yet." 
        
The fear returned and darkened his eyes.  "You wouldn't do  
anything to hurt me, would you Garak?" 
        
"That all depends on how co-operative you wish to be with me  
Doctor."  There was no more pretence clouding his features.  No clever  
disguise, no cheerful smile.  What stared back at Bashir in the darkness  
of the Cardassian's world was a threatening evil being.   
        
"I don't know anything," he persisted.   
        
Stubborn humans, Garak thought and betrayed a smile.  He  
was always one to enjoy a challenge.   
         
~~~ 
         
        
Quark's hand was tapping with maddening impatience against  
his counter.  He'd relegated his duties to Rom for a moment; enough to  
tap the comm lines open and place a hurried call to someone.  Someone  
he felt should be apprised.     
        
And that someone was approaching his bar now, concern  
clouding the handsome features.  The Ferengi halted his impatient flutter  
and straightened, tugging his hideously multicoloured jacket in place.   
"Doctor," he nodded briskly, crooking a finger toward him as he  
retreated to a secluded corner. 
        
"What is this about Quark?" he frowned, his dark eyes  
reflecting his query better than words.  Not often was Quark prone to  
detach him from his medical duties.  Quark was conniving, immoral in  
the world of business; but he understood Bashir's responsibility, and  
respected it.  "Why did you call me here?" 
        
Quark sat himself on the stool, uncomfortably at its edge to  
better their confidentiality.  Bashir leaned in, frowning anew.     
        
"Holosuite gamma," he said shortly.  "Garak's in there now,"  
he added, as though that in itself was all the explanation Julian needed. 
        
"And?  What does this have to do with me?" 
        
The Ferengi's eyes darkened noticeably.  "More than you can  
imagine Doctor.  Trust me."  He glanced sideways, then leaned in further  
until his nose was almost touching the young man's.  "You know that  
the Obsidian Order was stationed here during the Occupation, don't  
you?  Not all of it, but certain quarters did house powerful representatives.   
Special Agents." 
        
Entranced by the abrupt confidence, Julian nodded eagerly. 
        
//Oh don't be so eager Hue-man.  It is nothing short of a  
nightmare, what I am about to tell you.  Be relieved you did not have to  
live through it.  To see their faces when they came down from the steps.   
The ecstasy.  The revolting pleasure.//   
        
"Garak was one of them," he added, and hoped the shudder he  
felt was not visible.   
       
 Julian leaned back a fraction.  Surprise was unmistakable in his  
eyes, belated interest suddenly illuminating his mahogany depths.  "He  
was?" he asked stupidly, uncaring that his heart beat faster at the  
unravelling information.  
        
"He was.  But Doctor, there's something you should know  
about Garak."  He drew in a breath and whispered, "Something that  
most probably will shock you.   
        
"Obsidian agents had their preferences you see, but they  
usually restricted them to work.  Garak was ... special.  He'd come back  
from extensive training with Tain.  He was cruel.  Ruthless.  But in a  
crazy kind of way.  He never talked to anyone.  Never spoke to those  
who worked under or over him.  But he did have his preferences.  And  
they weren't very healthy."  His eyes darted nervously.  "Specially for  
those he took a liking to." 
 
~~~ 
 
        
"Tell me what I want to know, and this will stop, I promise." 
        
He was so real.  So tangible Garak was forgetting he was  
dealing with a creation.  A nothing.   
        
That nothing was heartbreakingly beautiful right now.   
Writhing in delicious pain, the overhead cuffs biting into his flesh, his  
chest heaving with strain and lingering agony.  His beautiful eyes,  
sheathed now with fear and disbelief, were pure ebony.   
        
Still he kept with his stubbornness.  Unexpected obstinacy.  The  
computer had been trained to unfold his character randomly.   
        
"I won't ... I don't -know- anything," he cried, tears  
overflowing his eyes, his complexion darkening with fright and pain.  It  
painting his face an ugly crimson.   
        
//Beautiful man,// Garak thought as he caressed the back of his  
hand against the damp cheek.  At his side a whip danced playfully  
against his thigh, but he quickly discarded it, finding no use in it.  Not  
anymore.  He'd pushed the young man's physical limits.  And the sight  
of his abused body was almost too much to bear.   
        
He had to take him.  Now.  
       
Smiling lewdly, he reached for the cuffs.        
 
~~~ 
 
        
Julian was short of gasping his terror as Quark ended his tale.   
        
"You can't possibly mean that.  Garak isn't ... he's not the kind  
of man to do that," he stated doggedly. 
        
"What do you know about him?"  Quark retorted in a harsh  
whisper.  "All you know for sure is that he's a Cardassian with a past.   
I saw more of him than you Doctor.  And he is not what he seems."   
His eyes still sharp with conviction, Quark leaned back with a breathy  
sigh.  "He may have changed, living here alone.  But not much.  I don't  
know what happened exactly in the gamma quadrant, but I think ... I  
think his taste for that," he waved at the air suggestively, "came back  
with him." 
        
"What makes you say that?" Julian breathed.      
        
"He used to have a program," Quark said, no longer bothering  
to lower his voice in confidence.  "Custom made for men like him.  He  
was the only one to use it on a regular basis.  On Bajorans.  People  
who fired his fancy.  It's an exact replica of a Cardassian interrogation  
chamber.  Usually he'd bring them there and--" 
        
"All right," Julian spat, sickened.  He leaned back, his lips  
curled in disgust.  "I don't want to hear any more." 
        
"Oh but you do," Quark hissed.  "You might be interested to  
know who's struck his fancy today Doctor."   
 
~~~ 
 
        
He couldn't.  He couldn't do it.  It's not as if he hadn't tried.   
His body simply refused to surrender to the pleasure. 
        
His face was buried between the smooth golden shoulders,   
tears dampening the already slick back.  "It's over," he kept repeating,  
the words incoherent to the crying young man under him.   
        
"Garak, let me go ..." Julian sobbed.  "Please ... don't do this to  
me; we're friends ... we're--" 
        
"Computer end program," Garak hissed, sitting back on his  
heels as Julian shimmered out of existence.  "End the whole damn  
bloody program!" he bawled, hating himself to the core.   
        
He was less than a man.  Tain was right.  He'd lost his edge.   
He was no longer the prized Obsidian interrogator he'd once been.  No  
longer able to use his prisoners as he saw fit.   
        
He wanted Julian, he wanted him so desperately he felt it twist  
his soul in all directions.  Wanted him so badly he couldn't even bring  
himself to rape a mirage of him.  An illusion.  Not even in a fantasy  
could he bring himself to demean him.   
        
Absently he fastened his trousers as he clumsily climbed to his  
feet.  Tears still slipped from his eyes.  Treacherous tears.  When had he  
become this pitiful mass of sensitivity?   
        
Quietly, though frighteningly loud in the stillness of the room,  
the doors to the holosuite opened behind him.  Garak kept his back to the  
entrance, knowing without looking who it was.   
        
He laughed nervously.  "I suppose I should learn not to ask  
Quark for privacy and confidentiality," he said, his voice broken.    
        
A long moment of silence followed, shattered only by Garak's  
erratic breathing.  After a while, a voice spoke.   
        
"Is it true?"  The shaking voice of Julian.  Inside the room, it  
offered the Cardassian an unconscious shiver.  He wanted to run with  
him.  Grab him, lift his slender, weightless body in his arms and pull him  
away from here; from where he'd done all those horrible things to him. 
        
"Not all of it I'm sure," he whispered, sweeping his vacant gaze  
across the floor.  
        
"You ..." a nervous swallow and Garak could well imagine the  
frightened expression on the young man's features.  "You wanted to ... to  
hurt me?  All this time?" 
        
"No.  I never wanted to hurt you.  Not you.  Many people yes.   
Too many.  My own private revenge for what I went through in my own  
life.  But I've lost the taste for it.  I can't do it anymore."  He turned and  
offered Julian a view of himself.  Crying, broken, a quivering mass of ...  
nothing.  "Don't ask me what I did in here Julian.  Forget about it.   
Forget about me." 
        
Julian took a couple of steps inside the room.  "Why would I  
want to forget about you?  Because of what you tried to do to my image?   
I'm just glad you didn't act on your ..." Julian closed his eyes for a  
moment, taking a cleansing breath, "fantasy on me." 
        
Garak widened his eyes.  "Oh no Julian," he said quickly,  
taking his own steps forward.  "It was never a fantasy.  Never.  But I had  
to know Julian.  I had to know if I still had it in me to hurt you.  If I still  
had the taste for ... this," he waved weakly at the room.  "I lost myself.   
When I entered the room, it was as though I was back in the Occupation  
again.  Back in power.  I got ... lost.  I'm sorry,"  he whispered, knowing  
the apology didn't mean anything to the one who hadn't witnessed his  
own torture.  He shivered again, and dropped his gaze to the floor. 
        
Julian was frowning, disturbed.  "I wish I could say it's all  
right," he said, his voice matching Garak's.  "I wish I could forget about  
it.  But you have to understand," he murmured.  "It's very hard for me to  
ignore what you did.  I've never been one to forbid fantasy role-playing.   
It's healthy in fact," he said, his voice turning clinical without his  
knowing.  "It promotes a harmless outlet for violent tendencies.  But  
please understand me Garak; it's a little hard for me to accept the fact  
that -I'm- the outlet to your ..." he took a breath, "torturous whims."     
        
"You're not," Garak wailed.  "I never touched this program in  
years.  I never thought of you in that light, even when I decided to use it  
again.  It was for my own curiosity.  I wanted to know if I could hurt  
you." 
        
Julian's dark eyes lifted to meet his own troubled blue.  "Were  
you?" 
        
Images of Julian's battered face superimposed over his for a  
moment.  Garak winced and turned away.  The sudden silence was  
deafening. 
        
"I see," he said after a moment. 
        
How could he explain it?  How could he tell him that, yes he'd  
tortured him, but he hadn't been able to rape him.  He hadn't been able  
to do it, to take pleasure in something he'd used to impose on people  
everyday.  "I never meant to hurt you," was all Garak said in the end,  
hugging his arms.  "I fought it.  I felt it inside me, fighting it.  But I was  
too weak.  Too eager to show myself that I was still Tain's prodigy.  I  
told myself; if I could hurt you, then my skills hadn't deserted me.   
Because of all the people I know, you're the only one who'd be able to  
cut through my defences and stop me." 
        
"But I didn't.  He didn't," Julian sighed with irritation.  "The  
idea of hurting me didn't stop you I mean."      
        
"No it didn't," Garak agreed, ducking his head.  "So I suppose  
my training has refused to let me go," he said simply, chiding himself for  
searching to lay the blame on other than himself. 
        
"So.  Where does that leave us now?" Julian asked, his light  
footfalls approaching him from the back. 
        
"I don't know," Garak confessed, refusing to meet the young  
man's innocent eyes.  "Perhaps it would be best for you to leave now.   
Maybe spend some time apart will do us both some good.  I'm still not  
convinced I'm such a good influence over you.  I don't want to see your  
innocence destroyed." 
        
A snort of derisive laughter, and Garak turned around with  
curiosity.  "Innocence?" Julian echoed, his eyebrows drawn together in  
a dark frown.  Darker than the outward colour.  He was angry.   
"Innocence?  Garak if this is some silly ploy to protect me, you can quit  
it now.  I'm not a little child in need of protection.  In fact," he growled,  
clenching his teeth as he approached the Cardassian heavily.  "Maybe  
I'm not at all as innocent as you think I am.  And I'm tired of you  
thinking that way.  What would it take Garak?"  His hands fell heavily  
on Garak's shoulders, pressing him against the opposite wall a little  
more violently than the tailor expected.   
        
He gasped, staring back at Julian's ebony eyes.  "What would  
it take to make you believe I'm not a foolish innocent to be used and  
manipulated?" 
        
"I never--" 
        
"You do it everyday Garak," Julian cut, his voice oddly calm.   

"Every single time we see each other Garak, you try to wrest some sort  
of victory for yourself.  By lying.  By playing mind games.  Well you  
pushed the limit today Garak," Julian growled suddenly.  "I won't let  
you off so easily."  He grabbed the tailor's lapels and pulled him roughly  
from the wall, swivelling him before quickly pushing him to the floor.   
        
Garak landed on his ass with a surprised gasp, his eyes wide as  
Julian bounced over him.  He straddled his chest and looked down  
angrily.  "Tell me why you did it," he demanded, his jaw clenched.  His  
hand reached up to wrap around the Cardassian's throat, taking care not  
to brush over the erogenous neckridges.  "Tell me why you'd want to  
hurt me Garak.  Because I don't understand." 
        
Gasping for breath, Garak became suddenly afraid.  He was  
being dominated ... quickly, effectively.  He was trapped, and he could  
do nothing against Julian's thighs forcing the air out of him.  He  
struggled, but the young man's slender fragile form belied him.  He was  
stronger than he appeared.  "Tell me," he repeated, his fingers digging  
into the precise spots he knew would incite some measure of unbearable  
pain.  Garak closed his eyes, bawling in terror.  Images from his past  
blazed across his mind, searing, painful.  Not the face of Julian staring  
ragingly at him.         
        
"I ...." he drew a ragged breath in, his voice husky and strained.   
"I don't know," he said helplessly.   
        
He watched as Julian's  
        
(Tain's) 
        
face grew closer.  "Do you want me to reactivate the program  
Garak?  Do you want to be the one writhing in pain in those cuffs?   
Maybe it's time someone showed you what it feels like to be in them, to  
feel the pain you gave all your victims.  The Bajorans, during the  
Occupation." 
        
"I knew the pain!" Garak screamed, his face distorting into  
anger.  "I knew it long before I ever stepped foot on this damnable  
station!  Tain made sure of that." 
        
Julian's hand relaxed against the tailor's throat and let him  
speak.  "I knew what it felt like to be in those cuffs," he went on, crying.   
"To deny knowledge, to plead ignorance while unbearable pain wracked  
my body.  To clench my teeth so hard I chipped one.  To scream until I  
couldn't breathe.  I knew it all Julian.  And I was so angry at Tain for  
doing it that I took revenge on everyone else.  It was not Bajorans I saw  
when they entered the room.  They all had Tain's face.  Even you, when  
I tortured you.  Odo, when I began the session.  But I can't do it  
anymore.  Tain's face is no longer ... clear.  I see the real pain behind the  
masks.  Yours, Odo's.  I can't do it anymore," he cried, his whole being  
shaking with sorrow.   
        
Julian slid his thighs back and pulled the Cardassian into his  
arms.  Like a mother soothing a child, Julian pressed the tailor's head  
against his shoulder, smoothing the slick raven hair, caressing the broad  
tense back.  His lips formed a sweet smile against him.  "You needed  
that," he whispered.  "I'm sorry to have done this, but you needed to get  
it out." 
        
Garak pulled back slowly, sniffling, his eyes confused.  "You  
knew then ...?" 
        
Julian pushed a wayward strand of black hair from the tailor's  
forehead, his face mirroring nothing but sympathy and love.  "I had an  
idea.  When I visited Tain.  The way you spoke of him.  The way you  
never once hesitated in coming back to him.  I'm really not as naive as  
you think I am Garak." 
        
The tailor let out another sob, retrieving the comforting  
embrace.  "I suppose you're not," he whispered, breathing in the scent of  
his friend.  "Thank you."      
        
"For what?" 
        
"For doing this.  For understanding."  He frowned and pulled  
back again.  "You -do- understand, don't you?" 
        
Julian's expression grew troubled again.  "I can certainly  
understand where you're coming from.  I just have difficulty thinking of  
you ... that is, me in those ..."  he shuddered, and Garak drew him  
against him.   
        
"I'm sorry.  I never meant for you to find out."  His eyes  
darkened.  "I shall have a little talk with Quark tonight." 
        
"Don't blame him.  He meant well.  He was worried.  And ...  
I'm glad I found out about it.  At least we can talk about it." 
        
Garak chuckled.  "And you were worried you'd never get to  
know the real me." 
        
Julian pulled back, his face an odd mixture of amusement and  
fear.  "I'm not sure I want to know the real you."  He heaved a sigh and  
offered his hand.  "But are you willing to be patient with me?" 
        
Garak glanced at the hand, then back to Julian's mesmerising  
eyes.  His hand slipped into the young man's, caressing the warmth.  "I  
am," he said simply.  "I am because I want you to accept me for who I  
am.  Not the lies.  Not the bravado I disguised myself with all these  
years." 
       
 Julian climbed to his feet, bringing the tailor with him.  "The  
true Elim Garak," he said, and Garak widened his eyes in curious  
wonder.  He laughed suddenly and squeezed his hand.  "I told you I'm  
not all what I appear to be." 
        
"As I keep finding out," Garak murmured as they stepped out  
of the holosuite.  The door closed on the silent room, giving it its moment  
of peace before the heavy entrance opened again.   
        
This time Garak was alone as he entered, pausing before the  
control panel.  With a sigh he plucked the two rods from the computer.   
The node he empocketed, destined for Quark's hands.  The flat rod he  
dropped to the floor and pressed his heel over.  It cracked under the  
stress, then finally shattered into tiny shards of glass under Garak's  
strength.   
        
He stared at them for a moment, then quietly left the room. 
 
THE END