This story is a work of colorful and slashy fiction. Names, 
characters, places and incidents have been long-standing
slaves of Paramount Pictures. Any resemblance to actual 
events or locales or persons, living or dead, is probably
because the author has written too many of these already.
Forgive her.

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.  Well, not
consciously anyway.


TITLE:   THE VOYEUR
AUTHOR:  BGM
RATING:  NC-17
PAIRING: Garak/Bashir
NOTE 1:  A strange mix of TNG's 'The Naked Now', DS9's 'Fascination', 
         X-FILES' 'Gender Bender' and the movie 'Sliver' 
         (don't ask me why, it just sprang to mind as I reread myself) 

~~~

A low rumble. 

When Odo sighed, it sounded like a low threatening rumble resounding 
within a simulated chest. Yet there was nothing simulated about his 
exhaustion.

The burden of security was a heavy one, and it weighed strongly on his 
shoulders. Not that he harbored any reproach for his staff -- they 
were competent enough, but again a tribute to his own efforts. Without 
him, they would most certainly watch over the station carelessly -- 
letting swindlers like Quark weasel their way toward profit for 
example. What the station needed was order, and he gladly provided it.

But such an important burden wasn't without its price -- nearly 
constant solitude. And though the Changeling held an almost reverent 
gratitude for it, he found himself sometimes longing for the company 
of these Humans and Bajorans he'd come to befriend. *And don't forget 
Cardassians,* he reminded himself, acutely aware that he'd scheduled 
breakfast with Garak tomorrow morning.

The thought of the Cardassian brought a scornful smile to his thin 
lips as he recalled again how masterfully he'd undermined the Flaxian 
assassin. Not everyone held his cunning, and he suspected he was among 
very few who actually knew the extent of the little tailor's supreme 
intelligence. 

But then no one suspected he had tortured him into a brittle pile of 
charred flesh as he begged an answer out of him either. He wondered 
vaguely what direction Dr Bashir's opinion of his luncheon companion 
would take if Odo were to expose the truth. Though he wasn't sure it 
would waver at all. He'd notice how little the two men saw of each 
other lately. If Julian wasn't off playing darts or racquetball with 
O'Brien, he was occupied in the infirmary. Yet there was a time when 
Bashir wouldn't have dreamt of missing one of those oh so captivating 
meals with the mysterious tailor. He wondered if Julian had simply 
grown bored of Garak's illusory truths, or avoided the tailor for some 
more profound reason. 

He shrugged. Odo made it a policy never to meddle his nose deeper than 
matters of security. If the effects of Julian's relationship with 
Garak were to somehow affect the whole of the station, -then- he'd 
start asking questions. For now, he contended himself with splitting 
his time between security and enjoying a meal or two with the 
enigmatic tailor. Unknowing, Odo had stepped into Bashir's place, 
while Garak remained adamant to whatever person chose to accept his 
company. Exile could be cruel, even to someone with so many skeletons 
trailing behind. Perhaps he -had- once enjoyed Julian's company, but 
presumably understood the young man's growing reticence. Thus he 
appeared quite comfortable with the abrupt change of company, and 
looked genuinely pleased to finally get to know the station's only 
Founder.

He sniffed. The station's only Founder sharing breakfast with the 
station's only Cardassian. There had to be a joke in there somewhere, 
yet Odo turned his nose to it. He was -not- in the mood for jokes. In 
fact, he was -never- in the mood for jokes, and never understood the 
inordinate amount of time these Solids seemed to devote to them.  

He sighed again as he swiveled  his chair. The wall behind his desk 
offered various monitors, each screen focused on different 
perspectives of the Promenade. He glanced at them critically, 
satisfied that nothing blatantly out of the ordinary was being 
committed. Nodding, he climbed to his feet and blinked wearily. Time 
for rest. He could feel a trickle of his substance beginning to melt 
away across his brow.

"Computer," he beckonned hoarsely. "Begin night shift according to 
duty roster."

The computer sounded it's acknowledgment. "Night watchman Lieutenant 
Gilen Frenn has been notified," it replied pleasantly.

"Good," grumbled the chief. He stalked out of the office for his 
quarters, assured with the knowledge that security would be once again 
his responsibility in a few hours. 

~~~

Ten minutes rolled by inside the quiet security office before 
Lieutenant Frenn finally arrived, eyes heavy and uniform barely 
pressed. He adjusted the crooked combadge and sank into the plush 
chair, yawning noisily. A long five hours was up ahead, and he wished 
he had had more time to sleep. Since the Andorian's celibate life 
demanded little out of him personally, he'd generously offered his 
name to the roaster to keep watch while Odo regenerated, regardless 
that he was already on a day shift. Now he wondered what in the Blue 
Orbs he had been thinking about when he applied. Of course, acceptable 
mistake to think he didn't need any sleep . . . He sneered slightly, 
rolling his thick tongue inside his mouth to clear the ugly taste the 
abrupt rouse had left him with.     

He settled his head on his fist and cleared his throat. If an 
emergency arose, the computer would alert him. So he closed his eyes 
and tried to recall the dream he'd been having before the computer had 
so rudely woken him. A light smile played on his pale blue lips and 
his thoughts drifted to a place beyond the office, beyond the station. 
A place where the sound of doors parting could not reach his sensitive 
antenna.

The doors to the office rolled gently aside, admitting a silent form. 
Frenn still did not look up, lost in the pleasant images of his dream. 
The figure crept up to the desk, raised a hand and coughed to get the 
other man's attention.

"What the . . .?" The security officer jerked his head up with a 
start, and realized with horrified surprise that he was staring back 
at the tip of a disrupter. He opened his mouth to scream, moved his 
hand to slap the alert, but ended up doing neither as he slumped over 
the desk with a bright burn lighting up his back where the discharge 
had traversed. 

The silhouette rounded the desk with impassive calm, settled the 
disrupter on the desk as he would his keys, and pushed the lanky man 
out of the chair. As he took place in the seat, he swiveled back to 
the monitors and began switching each of them to different areas. He 
smiled lewdly as a voyeur would upon catching sight of the most 
exquisite figure undressing, and leaned back with a sigh, watching one 
particular officer as he prepared for the night.

~~~    

Dr Julian Bashir yawned noisily and stretched his limber arms with 
feline grace. The day had been long, and sleep was certainly a 
welcomed remedy for his rooted fatigue. 

He rubbed his tired eyes as he padded into the 'fresher, unaware as he 
did so that eyes followed him. He refreshed his face with cool water, 
brushed his teeth, combed his hair and glanced one last time at his 
reflection in the mirror. Satisfied, he closed the light and sauntered 
back into the living area where he began to strip. 

The cool air collided with his bare skin, producing a shiver that ran 
along his arms. He rubbed warmth into them as he fumbled across his 
quarters to retrieve his night trousers. 

Pure silk he smiled as he retrieved them. He loved those. He slid into 
them, reveling at the feel of coolness against his feet, then across 
his long slender legs, finally settling against his thighs. He heaved 
a contented sigh, happy that he still had these little pleasures to 
keep him company while closed inside empty quarters, alone. 

He stretched again, grunting pleasantly as his sore muscles relaxed. 
He shifted his attention to his bed, and sidled into the covers as he 
would a lover's embrace. Grin firmly in place as he pulled the warm 
soft covers over his shoulders, he sighed against his pillow and 
closed his eyes.  Not a moment later did sleep claim him, and Julian 
Bashir drifted off to dreams and fantasies -- a place he would not 
leave until the computer woke him in the morning. 

~~~

Grunting discontentedly, the assailant slapped his palm on the 
terminal to close all the monitors and rose to his feet. He curled his 
lips and looked down at the dead security officer. He shook his head 
sadly. "For this I've killed," he whispered. "And he didn't even 
provide me with the entertainment I need. I think it's time I did 
something about that." 

He picked up his disrupter, clipped it at his belt and lifted Frenn's' 
limp body by the arms. Quietly he dragged it into the brig, let it 
fall unceremoniously to the floor and walked back a few paces. He took 
his disrupter, thumbed the controls and aimed it at the body. With a 
short burst of blinding light, the corpse was gone. 

Inspecting the grounds for possible clues, the silhouette nodded his 
satisfaction and walked out of the small office, never looking back.

Not enough. It hadn't been enough. Killing one by one would bring him 
nowhere. He'd be found out, and it would spell the end of his 
Superiors' plan. Think, think, think . . . he needed another 
distraction. 

~~~

The replimat was pathetically deserted the following morning. Elim 
Garak sat in a secluded corner with a glass of rokossa juice, 
pondering the scene with glazed eyes. He swirled the liquid in his 
glass, lowering his gaze to watch the fluid movements without actually 
seeing them. His thoughts drifted, and he remarked how utterly forlorn 
he must look, sitting here at an empty table and staring at an 
unoccupied chair as though expecting someone to appear out of thin air 
and begin casual conversation. 

Odo had canceled their breakfast to attend to serious security 
matters, and Garak had understood, nodding and pursing his lips wryly. 

Now he was alone, sitting at an empty table while drinking one of few 
remnants left of his natal Cardassia. He sniffed and brought the 
beverage to his lips, easing his parched throat. The day would be a 
long one -- just like all days before that, and just like those that 
would follow. Bluster and whine all he wanted, he knew damned well it 
wouldn't speed things up. 

He sighed. He was tired. 

Physically so, but that was accountable considering the week he was 
having. But the general weariness he felt was largely spiritual, and 
the Cardassian was growing quickly annoyed by it. For once, just once, 
he wished something terrible would happen to the station -- a Dominion 
attack, a Klingon raid . . . -anything- to lift the impossible 
solitude of his relegation. Of course he wouldn't confide this to 
anyone, not even the four walls of his barren quarters.  

With a smile he recalled the day when he had skillfully plotted to 
destroy his own shop. The deception, the risk of falling prey to that 
Flaxian, the thrill of being allowed to be truly Cardassian for that 
one gratifying moment. He wasn't out of practice, but there was a 
moment afterwards where he questioned his edge. There could've always 
been a chance that he'd missed the creature's arrival, ignored the 
potential threat even though he -knew- Flaxians were generally used 
for assassination. Gul forbids if he hadn't used them enough in his 
lifetime. But despite the exciting preparations, despite the glorious 
deceptions and the sly treacheries, Garak was still left with a tinge 
of regret staining his soul. And to this day, he still couldn't 
discover the reason. Maybe it was the fact he'd betrayed the trust of 
Sisko and the others, but then he hadn't exactly betrayed them had he? 
Or perhaps it was the torment he'd ministered on Constable Odo, even 
though the Changeling appeared to have put the incident behind him.   

He sighed again and shifted his legs to get up. He would have done so 
too if another body hadn't settled into the opposite chair. He looked 
up, and grinned brightly at the young man now occupying his table. The 
Human brimmed with evident energy, and his color never looked so 
brilliant. 

Derokanar, Garak thought suddenly. Derokanar in full bloom during 
prime season. He -knew- Julian Bashir's skin reminded him of 
something. Lost in the memories of Cardassia, Garak failed to hear the 
doctor's preamble.	

"Garak?"

The tailor snapped his eyes wide and regarded the young man through a 
sheath of troubled azure. "My apologies Doctor. I was . . . 
elsewhere." He leaned back and settled his glass, taking his first 
good look at his young friend. "It is good to see you," he concluded 
with a nod. "I'm afraid what with your schedule and my--" his eyes 
widened fractionally at the lull in his mind. What indeed had 
prevented him from seeking Julian's company? "--business, " he filled 
in quickly. "We haven't seen much of each other this month."

A faint blush heightened the doctor's caramel color. He lowered his 
eyes and smiled nervously. "I'm afraid it's not just my schedule 
that's keeping me busy," he whispered. He frowned and raised his head 
to meet Garak's pallid blue eyes, a question reflected in their 
cerulean depths. "So how have you been?" he inquired lightly, trying 
desperately to cloak his discomfort.

Garak narrowed an eye, watching the young man and perceiving his 
unease under gaunt eyeridges. He folded his hands across the table 
top, pushing away his glass as he leaned forward. "I've been better," 
he confessed honestly, surprising both himself and Julian. He'd been 
so intent on the young man's discomfort that he hadn't measured his 
reply carefully. He waved a hand and smiled crossly. "After all, 
tailoring -does- get tiresome when one's been in the profession as 
long as I." He swallowed another gulp of rokossa juice and his smile 
took on a disarming quality. "And what of you Doctor? You look well 
rested today," he commented, attempting to shift the attention away 
from himself.   

"I *am* well rested," Julian sighed, closing his eyes in near bliss. 
"I slept so well last night."

Garak nodded wisely. "So I suppose you haven't heard of Lt. Frenn's 
disappearance," he stated casually, finding exaggerated interest in 
the patterns of his glass.

Bashir looked up with a frown. "Frenn? No, I haven't heard anything."

"No . . ." Garak murmured thoughtfully, narrowing an eye as he traced 
a particular Cardassian pattern along the rim. "You would have been 
asleep by the time he was reported missing."

"How do you know?" Julian asked absently, thumbing through the menu 
he'd been given for something edible.

Garak looked up sharply, "Well you were, weren't you? Otherwise you 
would have heard. Constable Odo began the investigation early this 
morning."

Satisfied with his order, Julian handed the padd back to the waiter 
and smiled. When he looked back at Garak, his features dwindled into 
confusion. "Does he have a clue?"

"I'm afraid the party involved left nothing behind."

"Well, did anyone try to contact Frenn?"

Garak shrugged. "The computer keeps informing the Constable that the 
Lieutenant isn't on board the station."

Engrossed, Julian leaned forward and took a sip of his water. "Did 
anyone see him last night?" he asked after he'd settled the glass, 
oblivious to the fact he was getting answers to all his questions when 
all he should get is; "I'm but a humble tailor. I don't know 
anything."

Garak pursed his lips. "Apparently, he was due for night watch in the 
security office at 0000. Yet Constable Odo left before Lt. Frenn 
arrived. According to a few friends, he was seen on the Promenade the 
preceding afternoon."  

"Do you have any idea?"

"I can see but two theories. One that he's quite simply left the 
station without telling anyone, or that two; someone killed him."

Julian recoiled in shock. "Killed him? Why would anyone want to kill 
him? Frenn was a lamb."

Garak shrugged. "Wrong time, wrong place, that sort of thing. 
Constable Odo found all his monitors switched off this morning, when 
he's positive he'd left them activated."

Finally the odd situation dawned on the young man, and he scowled. 
"Garak, how do you know all this?"          

"I have my sources," was all he offered, dipping his head as he 
drained his juice. Pulling the bib off and wiping his mouth curtly, 
Garak stood and bowed at the neck. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have 
alterations to complete."

The Cardassian dropped the cloth on his chair and walked away, leaving 
Bashir in wonder as to what exactly had just happened here. And Frenn? 
His interest piqued, he dropped his napkin as well and left the 
replimat. A few minutes later, the waiter came back, an order in hand 
and a confused look on his face.  

~~~

"I can't simply -kill- them," the lanky being argued, facing off the 
Superior in rotation. "That will take an eternity and you don't have 
the luxury of time right now."

The dark shadow pierced through the room, dark eyes narrowing at the 
agent . . . the man, the Human -- their only connection to the 
physical world. 

Marty. Martin. Brother Martin. Whatever name suited the occasion. They 
weren't even sure -what- the Human's name had been before they 
converted him. The only thing that mattered was that he -enjoyed- his 
corporal existence, while the Superiors contented themselves with 
maintaining their true essence.  

"Besides," Marty added. "If we kill them all, you might not be able to 
figure out how to run the damn station."

The shadow faded and drew itself behind the Human. "You actually 
question the intelligence of the Kindred??"

Marty took a deep breath and shook his head. "No Superior. All I'm 
saying is that you might want to keep them around, just to be safe. I 
mean they -are- part of a bigger fleet. What if they come to 
investigate? Might be useful if we controlled the commanders into 
calming the storm . . ."

The shadow dissipated. A voice echoed in his mind, distant yet 
unmistakably carrying the authority of the Kindred combined. "It's at 
your discretion, Martin. Don't fail us again. We know of your weakness 
for these mortals . . ."

"Because I am one too . . ." he argued feebly.

"You are not! And it was because of our choice," another voice chimed 
in. "Do not think yourself exceptional simply because we picked you. 
You are merely a link, a connection . . ."

Marty snorted. "Nice to be so highly regarded."

"Enough talk," another scolded. "Go, and do what you must do. We are 
watching and hearing . . . do not deceive us again . . ."

In a breath they were gone, and Marty was once again alone with his 
thoughts in the small inhabited quarters. 

He sighed and turned around to the array of monitors he'd accumulated 
since his encounter with the blue skinned fellow. He'd set them coast 
to coast on the sleek desk, a comfortable chair poised in front of 
them and darkness all around. Smiling, he sank into the seat and 
adjusted every monitor to each of DS9's main areas. Promenade, 
security office, Ops,  replimat . . . Satisfied, he then closed his 
eyes, willed his breathing to a stop and began establishing his mental 
links. 

A voice tickled the back of his mind. "We are watching Marty . . ."

~~

"How do you know about this Doctor?" Odo sighed, watching the young 
man with a dubious frown. "I haven't released anything to anyone yet. 
Not even Captain Sisko."

Julian crumpled his nose in confusion. Reason more to suspect Garak's 
mysterious attitude it seems. "I -- ah, I have certain sources," he 
offered lamely, falling back on Garak's own excuse.

Odo let himself fall into his chair, folding his arms as he regarded 
Julian over his nose. "So what did these -sources- tell you, Doctor?"

"That Lieutenant Frenn was reported missing last night," Julian 
replied, knowing he was embroiling himself deeper into this thing than 
he'd expected. Or wanted.  

"Well your sources aren't very reliable," Odo huffed. "Lieutenant 
Frenn -was- reported missing last night. Was, before I discovered he'd 
been killed."

Julian widened his eyes. "Why would anyone kill him? For the love of 
Gods, he was a peaceful quiet celibate."  

"I agree," Odo nodded, bringing his fist to his lips in thoughtful 
consideration. "What's more is that I can find nothing to suggest 
other than foul play. Nothing was disturbed, nothing missing. I even 
checked his quarters, but nothing there was displaced either. 
Everything points to plain and simple murder."

Julian shivered violently, and at first wondered why. Then he realized 
it had been Odo's choice of words. Plain and simple. Plain and simple 
just like Garak. //I'm afraid the party involved left nothing 
behind.// 

With a disturbed frown, Julian looked up. "Odo, when you started this 
investigation, did you reveal -anything- to your staff?"

"No. Not when I started."

"And when you started, did you even suspect that somebody else was 
involved?"

Odo sighed impatiently. "Doctor, when I began this investigation, I 
was sure Lieutenant Frenn had left the station and was attempting to 
find out -why-. That was before I discovered his DNA traces on the 
brig floor just a few moments before you walked into my office."

"And you didn't tell anybody . . . not even Garak perhaps?" he 
ventured.

Odo's look was one of confused irritation. "Doctor, despite my 
friendship with him that so confounds you, I am still a professional. 
I think it would be terribly _un_professional of me to divulge these 
delicate details to him, wouldn't you say?"

Julian nodded, making his way toward the exit. "Thanks Odo. That's 
what I wanted to know. I'll see you later."

"Doctor!" Odo huffed petulantly, but the doctor was already gone. 
"Young nuisance," he muttered as he continued his inspection.

~~~

It had been a while since Julian had visited the small tailoring shop 
on the Promenade's second floor -- again an unconscious desire to pull 
away from the tailor. How many times had he passed by and wished to 
buy some tantalizing shirt hung in the window? Such a perfect article 
of clothing that Bashir began to suspect that Garak placed them there 
specially for him. And every time he sighed and turned away, an 
inexplicable feeling of fear tickling his spine at the thought of 
entering the shop. 

Why? It wasn't a rational fear. Garak had never done anything to harm 
him in any way. Why the sudden reluctance? 

Yet there was nothing reluctant about Julian's behavior as he stormed 
through the shop. Noting the tailor's absence in the main client area, 
he remembered the fitting room and marched toward the back section. 

"All right," Julian shouted, stepping inside the little room. He 
stabbed a finger at the tailor's startled form and added, "_You_ are 
going to do something new today Garak. _You_ are going to tell _me_ 
the truth for once. Now leave those damned clothes alone and sit down. 
Look at me and tell me the truth. How did you know about Frenn's 
murder?"

As Garak was sitting down, his features relaxed into a look of 
amusement. "Oh, so indeed it was murder? Imagine that."

"Cut the fucking crap Garak!" Julian's tone was almost bordering 
hysteria, and Garak clamped his mouth.  "What exactly do you know 
about this?"

Outwardly oblivious to Julian's unusually agitated demeanor, Garak 
folded his hands on his lap and sighed. "If it _was_ murder, I assure 
you Doctor that I merely took a guess. It's only reasonable. 
Lieutenant Frenn was a peaceful and lovable man. I had the pleasure of 
talking to him once at a--"

"Get to the point."

A flicker of annoyance crossed the tailor's eyes. "I am getting to the 
point Doctor, if you'd be so kind as to let me finish. Now, as I was 
saying -- Lieutenant Frenn was a lovable man, yet extremely dutiful. 
He would not leave his post, nor his life as a Starfleet officer on a 
whim. Which is why I found it unlikely that a man like that would 
disappear from the station without leaving a word or an excuse behind. 
The only remaining option was that he'd been killed. Simple as that," 
Garak finished, parting his hands disarmingly. 

"He could have been kidnapped," Julian argued.

Garak tilted his head acquiescently. "Possibly. Yet a transporter beam 
would have been detected at the time of his disappearance, which was 
not the case. And if the kidnapper had taken a ship, it would have 
been recorded, which was not the case also."

"How do you KNOW all this?" Julian shrieked, annoyed, irritated and 
angry.

Garak's stare never wavered. "As I told you Doctor, I have my 
sources."

Julian huffed and paced the length of the room. "Well maybe one of 
your sources is the killer. Gods --" he choked, pausing abruptly. "For 
all I know _you_ might be the killer."

For the first time in this whole affair, Garak registered surprise. 
"Oh now Doctor, is that why you're so incensed? You believe _I_ killed 
Lieutenant Frenn? What possible incentive could drive me to murder an 
innocent Starfleet officer doing his job?" The reason for Julian's 
accusation truly eluded him.

"Just tell me the truth . . ." moaned the young man, feeling a 
headache nagging the back of his skull. He was tired of Garak's half-
truths, tired of this whole sorry deal. He knew it shouldn't affect 
him -- didn't even know _why_ he was letting it affect him.

Hands rounded his shoulders and Julian looked up to meet Garak's 
brilliant cerulean eyes. "I did not murder that Lieutenant," he said 
carefully, separating each syllable, each tone, each inflection for 
Julian's benefit. 

"Oh Garak," Julian whispered, unconsciously bringing his arms around 
the tailor's waist. He buried his face in the Cardassian's broad 
shoulder, inhaling the intoxicating smell of Garak's closeness. "I'm 
sorry I doubted you. But dammit you could tell me the truth. You know 
too much not to be involved. Odo didn't tell any of his st-- I mean he 
-- what . . . Garak . . .?"

The Cardassian closed his eyes. "Mmh?"

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

~~

Marty grinned lewdly as he watched the progress of his efforts. It had 
been a long trial, yet he'd finally reached everybody's minds. Some of 
the station's more exotic ones had been difficult to tap into, but 
he'd succeeded well and was now watching the result of his influence 
with definite pleasure. Humans and Bajorans were the easiest to 
control since their minds were so open. Ferengis had been tricky, and 
Cardassians even more. He was relieved to discover there was only one 
of those onboard. 

Smiling, he glanced at each monitor, keeping an eye on the red-haired 
Bajoran as she slammed the young elegant Trill against a wall, 
capturing her mouth in a furious kiss. He then shifted his attention 
to the dark skinned woman as she pushed the station's Captain unto a 
bed, stripping and watching the man hastily doing the same. Yet his 
attention kept sliding back to another monitor, one where a Cardassian 
was looking quite engaged with a young attractive Human. Adjusting the 
sound, he leaned forward and kept his eyes glued to the screen as he 
followed the interesting exchange.   

~~

Julian moaned involuntarily against Garak's shoulder as his broad 
hands fondled his ass, rounding the curved mounds and pinching them 
powerfully with his sheer Cardassian strength. 

Yet the lithe Human never pulled away, never protested as Garak 
deepened his exploration, sliding one hand round his waist and 
massaging the hardening erection through the black uniform. This time 
Julian's groan was deeper, and his arms convulsively tightened around 
the Cardassian's frame. 

At last Garak opened his eyes. Their usual impassive depths were now 
glassy with lust, sheathed with need and feral desire. He bent forward 
and began biting the curve of Julian's neck and leaving in his wake 
trails of fire. He paused at the Human's ear, licking and nibbling at 
the odd shape of his lobe. His lips moved across the smooth golden jaw 
and he whispered, "I've wanted to fuck you for so long . . . tell me 
you want it too so I can fuck my pretty doctor . . ." There was almost 
a tinge of desperation underlying the hoarse tone, emphasized further 
by the almost convulsive tightening around the Human's waist.

"Garak . . ." Julian mumbled, confused by the sudden turn of events 
yet simultaneously thrusting his hips forward, pushing the tailor's 
hand aside to brush against Garak's steely erection. Garak grunted 
appreciatively. 

"I used to sit in the replimat and get so hard at your sight --" he 
murmured, licking a path down the sinuous neck. "Leaving abruptly 
because I knew control was failing me with every meeting." His lips 
found the doctor's and he added, "Wanting so badly to clear everything 
from the table and pin you on the cold hard surface while I drove into 
you . . ." He conquered the mouth before moving down, pinching the 
Human's rock hard erection.

"Please . . ." Julian moaned, throwing his head back.

"Fucking you until you begged me to stop . . ." Garak went on, one 
hand entangling itself in the dark curls and pulling them back dryly 
to access the slender throat. "Begging me not to when I would . . . 
Fucking my pretty doctor until he forgot he was in the replimat . . ." 

"Garak please . . ."

The Cardassian roved his other hand possessively over the young man's 
chest, grabbing the uniform and twisting it in annoyance. "Fucking him 
until he cried out loud enough for the whole station to hear him . . 
."

Julian began whimpering. "Please Garak!"

The urgency in Bashir's tone drew him back to reality. "Please what?"

"Fuck me," Julian whispered hoarsely, sliding along the length of 
Garak's body as he caressed the powerful muscles playing beneath the 
thick clothing. His arousal was on the edge of the unbearable, to the 
point where Julian was almost crying to have Garak inside him.

The tailor was in no better condition as he kneeled down at Julian's 
level, harshly tugging his chin upward and meeting the soft hazel eyes 
glazed with animal lust. "You want it?"

"Please . . ." he whimpered, a little voice in the back of his mind 
shocked at his behavior. 

"Then you'll have it," Garak spit back, his own conscience tugging at 
his sleeve to remind him this was not proper.

"Fuck it," he told the voice, and Julian began fumbling for his 
uniform, swallowing hard. Sweat trickled his brow and moistened the 
tender sinuous lips, licked now by an eager tongue at the prospect of 
being had by this Cardassian male. No name, no courtesy, no nothing. 
Just the fire between his groin beckoning this Cardassian's grasp, the 
tightening between his ass pleading for this Cardassian's cock to 
impale him.  

With a growl of impatience, Garak pushed him backward and fell on top 
of him, clawing at the uniform and ripping the seams apart as he 
pushed away his professionalism which disgusted at his manners. The 
Human, no name -- what was it? This tender Human who was going to beg 
him to stop in just a few moments. This golden-skinned young man who 
he was certain he'd seen before. Distant memories of laughing, 
Shakespeare and Shogoth dancing in his mind, quickly devoured by the 
more primal Cardassian instincts which were to take this non-
Cardassian and drive him to abandon.   

"Human slut," he growled, grasping the long slender legs and swinging 
them apart. He unfastened his trousers long enough to release his 
fire, his ache, the thing he'd use against this pretty young man who 
had begged for his dangerous touch.    

Julian threw his head back and writhed in wild abandon, thrusting his 
hips into the air, wanting so badly for this male to plunge into him 
and fuck him into a frenzy. A tiny thought reminded him that his back 
was being scraped raw by the harsh carpet underneath, but he didn't 
care. With a single cry, the thought was gone, replaced by the need to 
be fucked. He tried to articulate his desire, but primal grunts 
replaced his words. Incoherent words formed by a mind no longer able 
to concentrate on speech.  

With a groan of impatience Garak shrugged out of his tunic and licked 
his palm generously. He smeared the fiery steel of his erection 
thoroughly before falling on his hands and knees over his prey -- his 
mate, this slender fragile creature who wanted nothing more than to be 
had by him. Long slender legs rounded his back and pulled him closer. 

With a bellow he plunged deep into the heated depths, impaling the 
human to the hilt on the first thrust. The human cried out, shouted 
almost with relief and pleasure and pain. A laugh -- the Human was now 
laughing and whispering "yes" over and over as Garak thrust his hips 
hard, slapping the golden skin with brute animal force and lifting the 
impossibly thin frame with the might of his plunges.   

Julian spread his arms, trying to clutch vainly at the carpet's short 
bristles, curling his hand into fists as the Cardassian drove him to 
an impossible peak. His breath caught -- he couldn't breathe, couldn't 
utter words or even a sound. He closed his eyes tightly as his climb 
reached the furthest peak, salt touching his tongue as sweat dribbled 
over his face, hair plastered on his forehead and teeth showing as his 
face contorted with the impossible pleasure filling him. The 
impossible pleasure this predator was giving him.

Garak grunted, thrusting one last time as floods of his essence 
spilled inside the golden creature. One hand curled around the 
beautifully bronze sex and pumped it without mercy, watching hazily as 
it spilled its own essence over his hand and onto the creature's 
belly. He thrust one more time and released his breath in a short 
inarticulate cry. 

It was over. The fuck was over, and Garak's thoughts began clearing 
abruptly. Watching the Human open his eyes, he realized what he had 
done and immediately rolled off. 

Panting hard, Julian was too tired to talk, much less sit up.  

And somewhere on the other side of the station, dark interested eyes 
peered at their revelations with the lust they'd just witnessed.

~~~

Odo tapped his combadge angrily. "Odo to Captain Sisko. Captain, I'm 
afraid we have a situation." He glowered at the air, petulently 
listening to the ensuing silence. "Captain? Computer locate Captain 
Benjamin Sisko."

"Captain Sisko is located in his private quarters."

Heaving an exasperated sigh, Odo shook his head and again addressed 
the Bajoran insignia on his breast. "Odo to anyone who still has the 
presence of mind to respond!" he growled. No one answered. Disgusted, 
he stalked out into the Promenade, moving amidst the mass of naked 
bodies pressed together. Each were coupled to another, performing 
whatever mating ritual their race intended. He curled his lips and 
managed to reach the turbolift without incident. Sighing his relief, 
he waited patiently as the lift transported him to another level of 
the station -- one where he hoped he could reflect in peace upon this 
whole sorry affair. 

~~~

Marty folded his arms and leaned against the back of his chair. So 
much more interesting than he'd imagine. How fascinating to see their 
eyes widen in shock, to watch each beings' reaction at what they'd 
just done. Again, he was drawn to the last monitor focused inside the 
little fitting room. 

~~~

"Garak . . .?"

Weary blue eyes peeked over a scaly arm. "Yes Doctor?"

"What the hell just happened?"

A wry laugh escaped the tailor's throat as he buried his face in the 
crook of his arm. "I wish I knew. It seems we lost it there for a 
while. Sweet gul, I can't recall the last time I lost control like 
that from a sexual encounter."

"Neither can I," Julian chuckled. His chest was still rising and 
falling hard, yet his heart had ceased its infernal racket. He could 
vaguely sense that he was spreadeagled on the floor, harsh bristles 
irritating his back. Next to him Garak was curled on his side, head 
inside folded arms.     

"Yes, it was quite intense at that," Julian nodded wearily.

Another muffled laugh. "Dear doctor . . . intense is hardly the 
adjective I'd associate to our encounter. Something which has the 
power to impair our reasoning is nothing short of incredible."

Julian managed to pull enough strength to roll over, and his face 
found itself mere inches from Garak's own. Feeling the breath across 
his arm, the tailor revealed his face and rested it on his forearm as 
he gazed deeply into Julian's mahogany eyes. "Do you regret it?" he 
asked softly, his gaze trailing all over Julian's handsome features as 
they studied the Human's face intently.

It was Julian's turn to laugh. "Regret what? What we did? Garak, look 
at me. I'm naked, sweating and spread on your floor. I don't think my 
body would have been able to stop itself even if I _had_ any 
reluctance." 

This elicited a frown from the Cardassian. "I agree. It seems rather 
unusual that we lost control like that. Don't get me wrong," he smiled 
indulgently. "My confession was nothing but the truth. I _have_ wanted 
you for a long time -- and my control has been fraying these past few 
weeks since we hardly see each other. I just didn't expect it to fail 
me so utterly as it did a moment ago," he commented, glancing 
significantly at their exhausted prone forms. 

Julian nodded his agreement, then chuckled lightly. "It's kind of 
funny actually. Me coming here all in a bunch because of Frenn's death 
-- sex was furthest from my mind."

A mischievous smile tugged at Garak's lips as he inched closer. "Sex 
is never far from _my_ mind," he snickered. "Not in your company 
anyway."

"Why didn't you ever say something?"        

"Because I--"  

~~~ 

Enough talk. All over the station people were, he flinched, _talking_ 
about the recent experience, understanding and revelation spreading 
around like a virus. It was not helping his cause, and what's more, it 
was uninteresting. Narrowing his eyes, the being doubled his 
concentration, tapping inside another part of the humanoid minds, 
focusing his efforts on another emotion and seeing where it brought 
them.    

~~~

"--I suppose I didn't want to offend you," Garak completed, unsure if 
this statement would reassure the young man. Lapsing into silence, he 
waited for the doctor's response.

Instead, Julian moved closer and brushed his lips against Garak's gray 
parted mouth. A tender touch as they straightened up and sat face to 
face. Lovingly, Julian caressed his slender fingers across the 
Cardassian's facial ridges, touching each as if they were a precious 
jewel. "I love you," he whispered, leaning in to stray his tongue 
across the Cardassian's neck coils. "I always have," he murmured 
against the leathery skin. "From the first moment you laid your hand 
on my shoulder to this day, I've always loved you."

Garak moaned helplessly, his defenses crumbling at the soft words, the 
love and the tenderness offered to him. He leaned back, gathering his 
precious doctor in his arms as he did so. "My sweet Julian . . ."

"I want to love you," Julian urged on, kissing and biting the tender 
gray lips. "But you won't let me through. You lie and you keep the 
truth away from me. Why?"

"I don't mean to," Garak cried. "But I can't . . . I'm afraid to trust 
. . . even you." 

"Then trust me this one time, won't you . . . Elim?"

The Cardassian moaned his relinquishment, closing his eyes and letting 
the young, precious, tender man do with him as he pleased. "I'm 
yours," he whispered, tears streaking the length of his face, truly 
believing his own words as Julian caressed his way down, pausing at 
each scale and giving them all the attention in the world before 
moving on to the rigid fiery erection. 

Gasping in short breath, Garak spilled it out; the reason for his 
exile . . . his lost lovers . . . a cruel father -- Julian smiled and 
kissed the head with infinite tenderness, licked the remnants of their 
previous encounter and finally surrounded the tough organ with hungry 
supple lips -- a lost childhood, broken hearts, death -- The 
Cardassian's hips thrust reflexively upward, synchronous to Garak's 
deep throated groan as Julian engulfed the whole erection inside his 
hot mouth -- blood, torture, Bajorans, Dukat -- Another cry, mixed 
with broken sobs.

Sucking and teasing and caressing the steel erection, Julian drove 
Garak to his peak with maddening slowness. But just as he was there, 
just as Garak threw back his head to shout his release, Julian quickly 
scrambled up and began thrusting his own erection against Garak's. 
Golden hips slapping against gray leathery ones, helpless defenseless 
moans seeping through their joined lips, cerulean eyes locked onto 
mahogany pools as they both reached their climax. Together, once 
again, this time in the throes of tender passion. "love . . . I love 
you . . ." Garak whispered, closing his eyes and pulling the young 
man's lips to his. 

When both quieted down, a smile of deep satisfaction brightened both 
their faces. Julian slumped against Garak's broad chest and heaved a 
contended sigh. "Oh yes, I do love you Elim Garak."

"Julian . . ." was the whispered reply, fresh tears rolling across the 
smooth gray cheek. When had he let this young man wriggle himself into 
his heart?

~~~

Pathetic. This -tender love- emotion was certainly not to the being's 
taste. Next one. He grinned childishly, surveying the changes in the 
humanoids. He needed to test animosity. Push it to his limit and see 
where it would lead. Perhaps the Superiors wouldn't have to kill them 
after all.  

He laughed. 

Killing was boring. This was more entertaining. And distracting these 
humanoids while he watched was as effective as killing them. Looking 
in interest and learning, while his Superiors took care of the 
station.

~~~

Hate filled his chest for no reason. No, wait, he _had_ a reason.

"Bastard . . ." Julian muttered, picking himself up. He grabbed 
angrily at his clothes and threw them again when he noted their 
uselessness, remembering again what happened for them to reach this 
state. He stalked to the replicator and ordered a new uniform.

Garak was getting up too. "What in Great Gul's name is that supposed 
to mean?" he growled.

"I mean you're a fucking chronic liar who has nothing better to do 
during his days than harass me and play mind games!" Julian blurted 
out, snatching the pristine uniform from the replicator dais. 

"Don't flatter yourself," Garak sneered, watching as Julian began to 
fill the uniform primly, all the while staring at Garak through dark 
wrathful eyes. 

"I can't believe I threw myself to you like that. I can't believe 
_you_ did this to me!"

Garak curled his lips into a disgusted line. "It's not my fault if 
you're a sniveling fool who can't ignore his raging hormones. If I 
recall correctly, _you're_ the one who kneeled and begged me to fuck 
him into a frenzy."          

Petulantly, outrage outlining every curve of his body, Julian snapped 
his lavender shirt in place and began walking back toward Garak. "You 
fucking lying rapist!" he cried, lunging his fist toward the 
Cardassian's face.

Garak grasped the young man's wrist easily, swinging it away from his 
face. "Calm yourself Doctor. You're hysterical."

"Shut up!" Julian cried. "And get your filthy hands off of me. Or do 
you want to rape me again?" His eyes flickered with dare and rage.

The tailor shoved the wrist free and stabbed a warning finger at 
Julian. "I suggest you start looking at your own actions as well, 
Doctor. I quite clearly recall you being in no better condition. Or 
did you want me to ignore you while you tugged at my pants and pleaded 
with me to fuck you senseless?" 

This time the lunge was unexpected. Julian's fist flew and connected 
with Garak's jaw with astonishing force. Surprise and anger warred 
briefly across the cerulean eyes, and Julian was rewarded with a slap 
in the face -- a slap far more painful than it should have been. 

"You son of a bitch! You hit me!" he cried incredulously.

"Why you hypocritical little knave. You expected me to take your abuse 
without a word?"

"YES!"

Garak marched away and grabbed a tunic out of a nearby rack. "An eye 
for an eye, Doctor, as your saying goes. Although be happy I didn't 
use my fist as you did on me. We're much too far away from the 
Infirmary for that."

"Oh you think I'm weak?"

"Yes," Garak spit back, fastening his trousers angrily. As he began 
buttoning his tunic, his eyes rested furiously on Julian. "In fact, 
not only do I think you're weak, I think you're innocent. Far too 
naive for a man of your age I should say. Just look how fast you've 
grown attached to me . . . for someone who's done terrible things in 
his past and has the unfortunate reputation of being a spy, I 
certainly had no trouble manipulating you into thinking I was 
interested in you." 

Irate tears burned at Julian's eyes, and he began mirroring Garak's 
action as he hastily pulled his uniform in place. "Well I guess I was 
a fool. I guess I was too damned compassionate about your exile that I 
couldn't see beyond my own nose. I guess Cardassians _would_ view this 
as a weakness." Uniform neatly arranged, Julian began walking back 
toward the exit. When he realized the door was closed and not opening 
at his proximity, he turned to Garak. "Why is this door not opening? 
Did you lock it when you decided to rape me inside your little fitting 
room?"

Garak stared it incredulously. "It's not supposed to open _now_. It's 
time-locked," he explained, surprised himself at the realization. "I 
can't open it until tomorrow morning."

"What kind of inane ploy is--"

"I keep my savings in here, _Doctor_. I'm sorry if it's not laced with 
the luxury of Starfleet credit banks, but it's all I have. Now there 
should only be a couple of hours before the lock is released, so I 
suggest you sit down and relax!"

His tone had been so biting that Julian did as told without conscious 
thought. Muttering under his breath, he settled against the wall and 
tried to think of something else than Garak's infuriating presence.

Yet the matter was not dropped so easily. Scoffing, Garak sat down 
opposite him and whispered, "All I have to do is raise my tone." 

Julian looked up in questioning anger. 

Garak waved his hand at him. "Look how fast you obeyed me Doctor. Face 
it -- You've wanted me to fuck you like that ever since the first day 
you laid eyes on me. All that sensitive nonsense you wave around 
doesn't fool me for a second." 

Julian snapped his head up, repressing the urge to walk over there and 
hit the Cardassian until his knuckles bled. "You don't know me -- you 
don't know the first thing about me so don't go making any 
presumptions about what I want you Cardassian filth!"

Garak chuckled. "Oh, so I suppose that little sub-directory in your 
secret agent file contains no mention of little old me then?"

Julian's eyes narrowed dangerously. "What the hell are you talking 
about?"

"Oh now Doctor . . . if you truly believed I was a spy, wouldn't you 
also assume I knew everything about you and your little _hobbies_?" 
His face drew a parody of a surprised look. "I must say though, I 
didn't expect you to have those kinds of thoughts of me while 
handcuffed in Noah's underground tunnels."

"You son of a bitch!" Julian blurted out. "You went through my 
personal files!"

The Cardassian's lips curled into an evil grin. "Oh I did much more 
than go through your files Doctor. Didn't you once question the 
surprising accuracy of my character as you writhed against that 
support beam while he did with your body as he pleased? Didn't you 
once question _why_ I was emerging from the next holosuite at the same 
time as you?" He settled on his most seductive smile. "Quite an 
astonishing coincidence, wouldn't you say?"

Speech was no longer part of Julian's vocabulary. He stared back at 
Garak, all the emotions in the world playing across his flushed 
features. 

Of course . . . it had been too real . . . 

And of all the possible outbursts Julian could have had, it was one of 
crying. He bent his head forward, buried it deeply between his knees 
and arms and cried. Cried as Garak's harsh words finally sunk in, 
cried at his own innocence, cried at his solitude and embarrassment.  

Cried for everything.

Having expecting to be whacked senseless, Garak frowned at Julian's 
hunched figure, watching the shoulders lightly shake with the young 
man's sorrow. Tears of his own veiled his eyes as he realized just how 
far he'd gone -- tears for having doubted Julian's sensitivity, the 
one characteristic which had attracted Garak in the first place. 
Attracted to this beautiful young man whom by profession and nature 
thought of everyone else but himself. 

He walked over to his precious doctor and sat beside him, enlacing his 
strong arms around the thin frame and pulling it against his chest. 
Julian did not struggle against the embrace, nor did he protest. He 
simply let himself fall in Garak's arms, letting himself be rocked 
with the Cardassian's motions as words of apology streamed into his 
ear, whispers reflecting the tailor's remorse. He cried silently, 
unaware that Garak himself was weeping over his head. Both closed 
their eyes, neither speaking another word, neither breaking the 
closeness each had come to cherish. A deafening silence settled in the 
small fitting room, resting its dead weight on the two figures huddled 
together in warmth, affection and love as they drifted to sleep.

~~~

Again this love emotion, the being disgusted. He closed his eyes and 
tried again for another emotion. He would have succeeded was it not 
for gelatinous hands closing firmly around his wrists. He backed away 
and growled at the threat -- a golden mass of viscous gel which was 
forming into a humanoid form. 

"I think Captain Sisko will be thrilled to see you . . ." the being 
said with contempt, tugging at him to follow him. "If he can wrest 
himself free of Yates that is. . ." he muttered, missing the dark 
smile the assailant threw at his back.  

~~~

". . . Elim?"

Garak opened his eyes with a start, then looked down at Julian's 
huddled form plastered against him. He frowned and cautiously held his 
breath. "Yes?"

"What happened?" he inquired, his lips muffled by Garak's thick tunic. 

"I truly don't know Julian."

"You called me Julian."

Garak raised his eyeridges in surprise. "Yes I did."

"You never call me Julian," Bashir argued.

"You never call me Elim," Garak countered.

Julian raised his head, staring back at Garak with confusion. "That's 
right, I don't." He looked around the small fitting room, then back at 
Garak. "What are we doing here?"

"I don't have a clue," Garak confessed. "I remember working on 
alterations here, but I don't recall you assisting me."

"Garak . . ." Julian's eyes fell on the russet garment Garak was 
wearing. "Did you change after breakfast?"

Struck by the odd question, Garak furrowed his intricate brow. "I 
don't believe so Doctor."

"Then why aren't you wearing the black and gold tunic you had on when 
we met at the replimat?"                

Garak looked down, and slowly shook his head. "I admit never feeling 
this confused in my life Doctor. I don't know."

"Computer, what time is it?"

"0829," the computer replied pleasantly.

"That's impossible," Julian frowned. "It was 10 when I went to see Od-
- Gods . . . Computer, what's the stardate?"

"Stardate 23940.6"

Both Garak and Julian's expression were shocked. "We lost an entire 
day?"

Julian went to tap his combadge only to discover it was gone. He 
straightened up, unaware that Garak trailed his hands on him in silent 
longing. "Where's my insignia?" he asked incredulously. "Computer, 
locate Dr Bashir."

"Dr Bashir is in Promenade shop EG-2."

Garak cocked his head. "That's in here."

Bashir fumbled forward. "Then my combadge should be here somewhere." 
He began scouring the floor studiously, moving forward and nearly 
tripping on a piece of clothing. He frowned, and picked up the 
tatters. "Garak, do you have any idea why you have a Starfleet uniform 
ripped to shreds in your fitting room?"

Garak lifted his head. "Uniform? That's impossible. I don't have the 
authority to produce official Starfleet uniforms," he explained. 

"Then why--" Julian gasped as his eyes fell on his combadge, tucked 
inside a crease. He plucked it out and turned to Garak. "This was _my_ 
uniform," he said incredulously. "Garak, what is going on he--" he 
paused again, this time widening his eyes. In another corner lay 
Garak's tunic, the one he'd seen him wear the morning before. 

"G . . . Garak?"

The tailor's eyes were riveted on the discarded clothes. "No need to 
say it," he whispered. "I understand."

Julian turned, a quizzical look in his eyes. "Say what?"

"That you'd rather forget what happened here -- convenient since we 
*did* forget. But I won't mention it to anyone. Now best you hurry to 
Ops." His tone was neutral, yet his eyes glimmered with . . . what? 
sorrow? hope?

Julian hesitated, then swiveled round to exit the small fitting room. 
The door opened swiftly, and closed neatly behind him, leaving Garak 
to stare after him. 

Three years. Three years he'd waited for this and he couldn't even 
remember it -- no memories to cherish save for Julian's body in his 
arms upon waking up. How he wished he could relive that feeling -- 
relive it every morning of his otherwise hollow existence.

~~~

"Say that again Constable?"

"This . . . this member of the Kindred as he calls himself was the 
cause of the . . . disorder on the station." Odo's disgust was plain 
as he glanced significantly at his handcuffed charge.

Ben Sisko felt a wave of heat wash over his body but struggled to 
remain nonchalant. "Why?"

The Kindred shrugged, smirking lightly as he stared at Sisko's 
impassive features, feeling the discomfort underlying the stone 
chiseled features. "My Superiors needed to distract the people on this 
station. I followed my orders."

"He killed Lt. Frenn as well."

"I was going to kill everybody," the man protested. "But then that 
would have taken too long. So I concentrated on distracting the whole 
of the people. I still think I did a marvelous job by the way," he 
smiled darkly. He would have succeeded too, had it not been for the 
unfortunate presence of the impervious Founder.

"Who are your Superiors?"

"Oh now Captain," the being scolded sardonically. "You don't expect me 
to reveal *all* my secrets, now would you? Aah," he beamed, his body 
surrounded by glittering light. "That would be them now. Good-bye 
Captain. And thank your crew on my behalf for a delightful show. I 
should really come back one of these  days . . .Oh and give my regards 
to Dr Bashir; he was especially entertaining," he grinned, his body 
dissolving into mere atoms.

"Get a transporter lock on that ship!" Sisko bawled.

Dax frowned over her console. "What ship? Benjamin, there's nothing 
out there!"

"I heard my name," Julian called, emerging from the turbolift. 
"Captain? What's going on? I woke up and found out I've missed an 
entire day."

"We all did Dr Bashir," Sisko replied, rubbing his forehead with a 
tired sigh. "I'm decreeing this day an official holiday," he breathed.      

~~~

The little fitting room was once again in its ordered state when 
Julian passed by later in the afternoon. Garak was mulling around the 
racks, clutching a padd as he took inventory of his merchandise. His 
back to Julian, he did not notice the young man as he stepped inside 
the room. Finally he cleared his throat, and Garak swiveled round with 
a start. "Doctor!" he gasped. "I hadn't expected you."

Julian smiled tenderly, making his way carefully across the room as 
though picking through various obstacles. If he had pockets, his hands 
would surely be buried deeply in them as he considered his friend. "I 
meant to come back earlier, but I had to stop by the infirmary."

"Is everything well there?" Garak inquired neutrally as he continued 
his inspection.

"As well as can be expected. People are mostly confused, but no 
serious injury. Just a few scratches and bruises from the more brutal 
encounters. Mainly I went to the infirmary for me."

Garak glanced worriedly over his shoulder. "You're not injured I 
trust?"

"Oh no . . . I wanted to do something -- something I want you to do 
too." 

Garak swallowed. "Which is?"

He held up his hands and offered him the small implant clutched in his 
palm. "The controls are set -- all you have to do is stick it to your 
temple and activate it."

Julian turned round and began walking out. Garak broke away from his 
curious inspection and frowned at Julian. "What will this do to me?"

There was a wistful smile on Julian's lips as he glanced back. "It'll 
make you remember." He let the words sink in, and when he was certain 
the Cardassian understood, Julian disappeared from his sight.  

"Remember," Garak whispered, smiling hopefully at the device as he 
caressed it between his fingers. 

THE END