The Bond Not Broken
(DS9, G/B, R)
Kathryn Ramage
October 1997


Introduction:

Another sequel in the "The Claiming"/"For You"/"An
Emotional State" storyline I seem to be making a 
career out of.   This story should make sense even if 
you haven't read the earlier segments.  

Key points prior to this story:

1.  An old Obsidian-Order enemy of Garak's named 
Entek kidnapped and tortured Bashir, and Garak 
rescued him.  

2. Our boys are married. 

3. Garak killed Entek (see the third-season episode,
"Second Skin").  Julian was rather upset about this.  

4. Tain lured Garak to his home on Arawath to turn
him over to his enemies on Cardassia.  The boys
were about to break up at this time, but reconsidered.


Disclaimers:

Paramount owns Star Trek, DS9, and the characters.
This story was written for personal amusement and
should not be taken as intended copyright infringement.

This story is adapted from the DS9 episodes 
"Improbable Cause"/The Die is Cast," teleplays by 
Rene Echevarria and Ron Moore respectively. Some 
of the dialogue used here is quoted from that source, 
particularly Odo's speech in the runabout in Part 2 
and most of the Garak/Tain dialog Part 3, but also
other bits here and there. 

The rest of it is mine.

I'm giving this story an R for several m/m interactions,
none of which is explicit enough to warrant an NC-17 
but might nevertheless be too much for the young 
and impressionable to be exposed to.


Finally, I'd like to thank Terrie Drummond for going
over this with me the last couple of months, making
me rewrite the whole middle section, and generally
being more encouraging than I think she realizes.

                          
Kit

~~~~~

i

They had agreed to meet for dinner at Quark's.  While
Garak was still straightening up his tailor's shop prior
to closing up for the evening, Bashir had gone back
to their quarters to change out of his uniform; he
knew Garak hated it.

Although he'd made substantial contributions to
Bashir's wardrobe before their marriage, Garak had
been working diligently to weed out any clothing that
was not his own creation now that he had access to
Julian's closet; he was just as adamant about
getting Julian out of that shapeless, ill-fitting black
jumpsuit whenever the doctor was not on duty.  In
addition to taking pride in his human mate's beauty
and being eager to show it off to the best advantage,
Garak enjoyed seeing his work displayed on so
beguiling a model.  Julian, to his credit, complied
obligingly with his ultimatums and showed remarkable
patience while standing still for fittings.

As he crossed the Promenade, the tailor caught a
flash of gold under the lights at the bar and stepped
forward a little more quickly.  He recognized the
pattern: golden threads woven into an elaborate
arabesque on sheer midnight blue Kareftan silk. He'd
only ordered a few square meters of the material,
enough to make one extremely flattering shirt for
Julian's birthday some weeks ago.

Bashir was seated at the bar, talking to Quark's
newest Dabo girl.  The doctor's back was to
him--Garak was still too far away to hear the entire
conversation, but he gathered that the young lady
had approached _his_ mate under the feeble
pretense of seeking medical advice.

Garak stopped where he was, heart-sick and jealous,
even as he knew his fears were unfounded.  He was
as secure of Julian as he could hope to be.  Julian
did love him--Would he have chosen to stay if he
didn't?--but, less than a year ago, the station's young
doctor had dated other employees of Quark's with
similar charms and obvious costumes.  Even in his
youthful infatuation with Lt. Dax, Bashir had seemed
more attracted to the Trill's current appearance than
her more subtle and interesting qualities.  Why
should one atypical relationship alter his previous
tastes?

Julian ordered a drink for the Dabo girl--and Garak was
about to approach and interrupt this "consultation,"
when he heard the doctor's next words, spoken with
what would sound like solemnity to someone who
didn't know him very well:

"You do know that I'm a married man?"

"I've heard..." the Dabo girl answered reluctantly.
"You and the Cardassian..."  Her gaze wandered over
Julian's shoulder, to find the tailor standing only a few
feet away.

Julian followed her distracted gaze, turned on his
barstool, and burst into a smile.

"Darling!"

Julian never used names like that unless he wanted
to make some sort of public display.

Since Julian had decided to stay with him and make
this marriage work, the doctor had engaged in an
aggressive new campaign to combat the general
disapproval surrounding their private life.  He refused
to apologize for loving a Cardassian.  In fact, he
flaunted it.  Garak had learned that Bashir could
be relentlessly stubborn, as well as wickedly funny,
when he had a point to make.   Although Garak
could not believe that even Julian's determination
could overcome so much hostility, he enjoyed
watching his mate fight to force the galaxy to
accept their relationship.  A futile effort, but he
adored Julian for it.

And while Garak was still not quite comfortable with
these public demonstrations of affection, he knew
how to play along.

He took Julian's outstretched hand, raised it to his
lips and softly kissed the palm.  "Beloved," he
murmured.  He raised his eyes to the doctor's--

And that was when he recognized the Flaxian
assassin seated at the other end of the bar.

~~~~~
ii

They had their dinner on the upper level, but Garak
was frequently distracted from the conversation as
he tried to keep one eye on the Flaxian at all
times--not a difficult task, since the Flaxian was
obviously following him.  Rather than linger over
dessert and coffee, he shepherded Julian back to
their quarters before the waiter arrived to clear their
table.

His worries over how to cope with the unexpected
appearance of his old acquaintance, however, did
not prevent him from teasing Julian about the Dabo
girl as they were getting ready for bed.

As Julian removed his shirt, Garak grabbed the
unsuspecting and half-dressed doctor to pin him
by the upper arms to the nearest wall.

"Do you `play doctor' with very many of Quark's
employees when I'm not there to keep an eye on
you?" he asked.

Julian, still surprised, feet dangling well above the
floor, took a moment to gauge the amount of real
jealousy behind the question, and responded
accordingly.  "I can hardly turn away a patient in
need, can I?  Our conversation was purely
professional."

"And was that a purely professional drink you
purchased for her?"

"Fanalian tonic," Julian answered.  "It's very good for
respiratory ailments.  The poor girl has a chest cold."

"I'm not surprised."

Bashir laughed and tried to touch the floor with his
toes.  "Will you please let me down now?"

"Oh...not yet. Is that what you want, dearest Doctor?
A female lover?  Someone softer?"  He raked his
teeth lightly over Julian's collarbone.  "Someone who
will let you get away with far too much?"

"Someone who can't pick me up and toss me around
the room?"  Julian wrapped his legs around his
mate's solid torso to keep himself from sliding down,
and to relieve the weight of his body suspended solely
by his arms.  "Now why would I want that?"

"But you think about it, don't you?"  Another gentle
nip.  "You think of the life you led before I became
your mate.  Whenever attractive women smile at you,
you are tempted.  Do you wish you were still free
to pursue them?"

"No, of course not.  Stop that--it tickles."

Human skin was so smooth and unadorned; it made
it difficult to employ the delicate art of conveying
levels of intimacy and sexual tones when there was
no mapwork of scales and ridges upon which to
place his caresses.  Garak had learned to improvise.

"Never once?" he asked.  "I seem to recall seeing
you in the company of other Dabo girls not so long
ago.  You appeared quite happy."

"Well, I wasn't-  Garak, stop!" Julian wriggled as
tongue and teeth played over his bare chest.

"So you had no interest at all in that young lady?"

"None at all.  Elim-!" He gasped and arched his
back, but Garak kept him firmly pinned.  "Elim, I
mean it!"

"I want the truth, Doctor."  He continued to work on
his subject with delicate precision, finding all the
familiar, responsive areas--the nipples, the soft,
ticklish skin on the underside of the arms, the hollow
at the base of the throat, the firm but tender abdominal
muscles at the point where the ribcage diverged
--until Julian shouted with helpless laughter.

"You're a heartless interrogator," Julian sighed,
breathless.  "Yes, all right.  I used to chase women
like that," he admitted at last.  "But you've definitely
changed my tastes."  He tried to reach down away
from the wall to give Garak a kiss; the tailor stretched
up to grant him the lightest brush on his lips.
"You've spoiled me for anyone else.  You're the only
one--you know that."

That was all Garak had wanted to hear.  He lowered
Julian away from the wall and would have set him
down on the bed, except that Julian's legs were still
firmly wrapped around him and the young man
refused to let go.  As Bashir rolled back on the
mattress, he dragged Garak down with him.

"My love.  My only love.  TeHua.  My mate," Julian
recited his litany of endearments happily, teasing,
almost laughing, between kisses, as they struggled
out of the rest of their clothes.  Garak shrugged off
his tunic; Julian's fingers traced the raised ridge
running along his spine, finding the key points of
sensitivity.  "My very dear Mr. Garak."  He opened
his eyes.  "I want to get married, Elim."

"As you have already rightly pointed out to the
charming young lady at Quark's, we _are_ married."

"According to Cardassian tradition, we are," Julian
answered.  "And everyone here on DS9 agrees
because you and I insist on it.  But as far as the
Federation is concerned, I was coerced into
participating in an alien bonding ritual and took my
vows in ignorance of their true nature.  When we were
having our- er- problems, Commander Sisko told me
that I didn't need to file divorce proceedings.  The
Federation considers our marriage invalid, and I
could walk away from it at any time.  I don't want it to
be that easy."  Garak's hand lingered on the hollow
of his shoulder, thumb sweeping along the collarbone
in a repeated caress; Julian twisted his head down
to land a kiss on his wrist.  "I want what we have to
be indisputably _legal_.  I want a proper wedding
ceremony--no kneeling on the floor of an interrogation
chamber this time.  I want to get dressed up, and I
want all my friends there to see that I am yours."

Garak smiled. "With Commander Sisko officiating,
no doubt.  He has been most accommodating--quite
understanding of that incident on Arawath.  Few
commanders, even in Starfleet, would have let you
off with a reprimand, you know.  If we asked, I'm
certain he'd be so kind as to oblige us."

"Dax can be my best man," said Julian.  "And then I
want to go on a honeymoon.  We never really had
one."

"Where would we go?"  Garak wasn't sure how much
of Julian's wedding plans were a joke, but he was
touched by the earnestness of the underlying
sentiment.  "There are not many places in this
quadrant where both of us would be welcome."

"We could rent one of the holosuites for a week and
lock ourselves in," Julian rejoined.  "Elim," toes
traced the fine scales on the back of his calf,
searching for the ticklish spot on the underside of
his knee,  "I know you haven't tried to hold me by
anything more than my wanting to be with you,
but _I_ need this.  I want to make a commitment
that can't be erased in a moment.  It's for your
benefit too.  You remember when that Lethean
attacked me?"

"Dear Julian!  As if I could ever forget!"  It had barely
been two months ago.  He ought to have killed that
telepathic leech the moment the creature had
approached them.

"When you came into the Infirmary to visit me, I could
tell that my staff would rather have kept you out.
They would have barred you from seeing me at all,
if Commander Sisko hadn't insisted.  You had no
rights, don't you see?  They didn't have to tell you
anything about my condition.  If there had been...
decisions to be made, you wouldn't have been the
one to make them.  If I died-"

"Really, this _is_ remarkably morbid of you," Garak
said as lightly as he could.  He didn't like the turn
this conversation had taken.

"It could have happened."

"Yes, I know."  He gathered the doctor into his arms,
and squeezed.

Julian nestled against him, slipped one hand beneath
his arm to press four fingers precisely into the
overlapping concave plates that ran along the outer
rim of the Cardassian breastplate as he slowly
nibbled Garak's neckridges.  "If I had been killed," he
continued between nips, "my parents would be
considered my next-of-kin, not you.  They would have
come to claim me, my- uh- body, my possessions.
You would only be involved at their sufferance.  They
could keep you entirely out of the funeral if they
wanted to."

Could Julian have some inkling of the danger he was
in?  Or was it just a coincidence that he chose to
bring up this subject now?

"These are exactly the things my husband ought to
have the right to control," Julian went on.  "And I
should have the same rights with you."

"I don't believe anyone will contest your authority
where I am concerned."

Bashir lifted his head and smiled. "There are other
advantages, too.  You could apply for Federation
citizenship."

The suggestion made Garak laugh.

"Oh, well!" he answered.  "I can't resist the prospect
of _that_.  An official Federation-sanctioned marriage
ceremony then.  We'll keep your staff and parents
at bay."

They made love, made their half-facetious plans.
Garak hoped the scheme he had been forming to
deal with the Flaxian would be successful and that
he would be alive to give Julian the ceremony he
wanted, instead of burdening his mate with the
responsibility of planning _his_ funeral.

~~~~~
iii

"You're late," Julian greeted him on the upper level of
Quark's the next day.

"Yes, I know, dear.  I'm sorry." Garak stopped beside
Julian's chair and bent to kiss his cheek quickly
before circling the table to take his own seat.  "I had
an emergency which required my immediate attention."

"Emergency?"

"Lt. Jordersel required some last-minute alterations
to the jacket of her riding habit.  Her leave begins
this afternoon and she absolutely refused to go on
without it."

"Then all is forgiven."  Bashir gave him a contrite
smile.  "I'm afraid I've started my lunch without you.
I'll be ready for my dessert long before you finish."

"Quite all right."

Julian began to wolf down his lunch, but Garak found
he had little appetite himself.  He had too much on
his mind to take an interest in the meal.  When
Julian noticed that he was only playing with his food,
he made an excuse about eating Dalavian chocolates
all morning and endured his mate's little jokes about
putting on weight. Then, once Julian had cleared his
plate, Garak also left the table.  Out on the
Promenade, he gave Julian a lingering good-bye
kiss, for once not caring who was around to observe
and disapprove of them, and went downstairs to his
shop, which exploded only a few minutes later.

~~~~~
iv

As far back as he could remember, Julian Bashir had
hated to see anything suffer.  Even as a small child,
he'd never been able to bear the sight of illness or
injury; he'd always wanted to make the pain stop.  He
wanted to help. Would he ever have become a doctor
if he had not already possessed that desire?  It
seemed only natural to him to nurture and protect the
people he cared about--and the man he loved more
than anyone else.

Once Bashir had gotten past his initial alarm at seeing
Garak dazed and bleeding in the wreckage of his
tailor's shop, he'd found a sort of professional comfort
in taking care of him.  He had the medical knowledge
to assess his mate's injuries; Garak was not hurt very
badly, he observed immediately with relief.  He could
heal him.  As he treated Garak's burns and
contusions, saw the wounds disappear under the
dermal regenerator, that feeling of professional
satisfaction deepened.  This was what he had to offer.
Garak had protected him so often: he had seen him
through months of recovery following his kidnapping by
the Obsidian Order; he'd barely moved from Julian's
bedside in the Infirmary after the Lethean's attack; he'd
offered all his support and sympathy during a major
bout of depression in the wake of Bariel's death and a
minor bout after all that fuss over the Carrington
Award.  And in return, Julian could do this.

Then, just as he was repairing the last gash in Garak's
cheek, Commander Sisko and Odo had come in to
question Garak about who could have blown up his
shop.

In response, they received the typical Garak vagaries.
The tailor insisted he had no idea who would want to
kill him.  Julian wanted to believe him, but he knew
that tone, that expression, too well. The possible
suspects Garak suggested were intentionally laughable:
Major Kira.  Some dissatisfied Nausican customer.
And when Sisko pressed for the details surrounding
Garak's exile, the tailor's answers became even more
outrageous. Tax evasion!   Oh, Garak had some idea
who was responsible but he didn't want the station's
security nor Starfleet involved.

Garak had known that _something_ was about to
happen; Julian was certain of it.  He recalled how
preoccupied Elim had been over lunch--now that he
thought about it, he realized that Elim had been just
as distracted during dinner last night.  And what about
that kiss on the Promenade just before he'd returned
to his shop?  Garak was usually reluctant to be that
openly affectionate in public.  It was as if he'd meant
to say `good-bye'.  Had Garak expected to be killed?

Bashir hoped, once Odo and Sisko departed, that
Garak would at least confide in _him_, but his mate
continued to insist that he was telling the truth.
Perhaps his "boy who cried wolf" story _was_
sanctimonious and deserved every sardonic remark
Garak had tossed at it--Garak had told him often
enough that it was impossible to resist teasing him
when he behaved like "a perfect example of all your
superior Federation virtues"--but it was hard not to
lecture when he cared so much.  He wanted so badly
to make Garak see how serious this situation was, but
with every word he could feel Elim slipping further
away.  By the time he'd walked out of the Infirmary,
Garak had retreated into that detached and ironic
pose he'd spent years cultivating and Julian had not
yet learned how to break.

So, he had been included among the people Garak
intended to conceal the truth from.  They might be
lovers, mated, but when Garak had an important
secret, Julian became just another Starfleet officer to
be distracted by word-games and cheerful lies.  He
wasn't trusted.  Did Garak think he was trying to pry
into his secrets so that he could run straight to
Commander Sisko and repeat everything?

Couldn't Elim see that he only wanted to help?  Why
wouldn't he let him?

~~~~~
v

Through the next two days, Bashir remained at the
edges of the mystery.  Odo was more taciturn than
usual as he investigated the case and Sisko could
only promise "I'll let you know what's going on as
soon as _I_ know, Doctor," but it wasn't their silence
that bothered him.  If there was information to be
shared, Garak ought to be the one to share it with
him--and Garak refused to tell him anything.  Again
and again, Julian's questions were put off with vague
reassurances that all would be explained later.

If he'd relied upon Garak, Julian would have no idea
what was going on.  Instead, he turned elsewhere.
After all, he was married to a spy; he'd learned a thing
or two about picking up information from informal
sources.  He bought Miles a drink at Quark's, and
learned that the micro-explosive device which had
destroyed Garak's shop had contained a pheremonic
sensor, set to go off when a person of a designated
species stepped into its proximity.  Sisko, true to his
promise, informed him that Odo had questioned a
suspect, but when one of the security personnel
came into the Infirmary with an injured hand, Bashir
learned that this suspect was a Flaxian perfume
merchant.  Quark was the one who told him that the
Flaxian might be a professional assassin.  Garak did
say that he would be gone for a few days, to assist
Odo in the investigation but, as far as Julian observed,
neither left the station.

No covert techniques were necessary to learn about
the Flaxian's ship exploding mere kilometers off the
docking ring; everyone on the upper level Promenade
had seen the blast and was talking about it.

After this second explosion, Garak was in a
conference all afternoon with Sisko, Odo, Dax and
O'Brien.  Bashir knew he was not deliberately barred
from the discussion--Sisko would have let him attend
if he'd asked--but since his interest in the matter was
personal, not professional, he felt it would be an
intrusion.  Besides, he was confident that the
commander would convey any news that was
important--and just as certain that Garak wouldn't
tell him a thing.

During those two days, he watched Garak withdraw
from him.  There had always been some distance
between them; even in their most intimate moments,
they were not one heart, one soul, as Julian believed
two people in love ought to be.  They each had their
own standards, their secrets, their separate past lives.
They were too different to merge.  And while they
could both work to overcome, or at least overlook,
those differences in the course of their everyday lives,
an incident like this could put light-years between
them.

When Garak returned to their quarters that evening,
Bashir met him with a volley of anxious questions.

"Elim, will you please tell me what's happening?  I just
spoke with Commander Sisko--he said that the
Romulans are responsible for that Flaxian's ship
exploding.  Is it true?"

"There are indications," Garak agreed absently.  Lost
in his own thoughts, he hadn't even tried to kiss the
doctor on coming in.

"They hired him, didn't they, to blow up your shop?"

"I really don't know."  He walked past Julian into the
room; Julian followed at his heels.

"Garak, are the Romulans trying to kill you?"

"I told you--I don't know."

"Why would they want to?"

No answer.

"Damn it, Elim, you've kept me out of this long enough!
If it concerns you, then I'm involved in it whether you
want me to be or not!  I won't stand by in ignorance -"

He was cut off abruptly when Garak cried out, "Julian,
_please_, not now!"

Julian shut up, but it didn't ease his own worries to
realize how shaken Elim was by this.

"Elim, I..." As he drew near, Garak reached out to pull
him close, then slowly guided him backwards toward
the couch.  Julian sat down; Garak sank to kneel at
his feet, moved between his legs and wrapped both
arms fiercely about him.  The spoon-shaped formation
on Garak's brow pressed into his breastbone.  The
tailor's breath was warm on his abdomen through the
thin fabric of his shirt.

After holding himself at a distance for days, his love
was with him again.  Garak needed him.

"Elim..." Julian stroked his hair.  He wanted to say
something soothing like, *Don't worry.  It'll be all right,*
but obviously it couldn't be all right if Garak was afraid.

And Garak really _was_ frightened.  Something from
his unspoken past had finally caught up with him.

"I don't care about your secrets, Elim," he whispered.
"You can keep them.  I promised I'd never ask another
question about your past.  But this isn't about your
past anymore.  It's happening _now_.  If someone is
trying to hurt you, I want to know who it is.  I want to
fight them for you, at your side.  It's where I belong."

Garak lifted his head to look into Bashir's eyes, then
reached up to slip his fingers along the fastener panel
down the front of Julian's shirt and pulled it open.  He
drew Julian to the edge of the couch, his lips moving
against the bare human skin, not speaking, not quite
kissing.

"It's gratifying that you want to help," he said softly
after a moment, "but there's nothing you can do."

Julian shuddered at these ominous-sounding words.
"Am I going to lose you?" he asked, dreading the
answer.

"Not if I can avoid it."

Julian slid down off the cushions to straddle Garak's
thighs.  Eyes locked into his mate's, he unfastened
Garak's tunic and slid his hands underneath, seeking
out those key points of contact on the intricate
pattern of scales and ridges that indicated the most
intense levels of intimacy.   His fingertips moved in
quick, delicate strokes--no pinches, no scraping of
nails.  This was the touch that conveyed solace; it was
the way Garak caressed him when he was troubled or
afraid.  He tried to remember everything he had been
taught, the right places to touch, the right degree of
pressure to convey feelings that went beyond words.

Garak pulled him close again; the doctor made a
small sound at the ferocity of the embrace.  They held
each other tightly.

"Do you know who it is?" Bashir asked.  "Can you at
least tell me that?"

"No, Julian."

He didn't know which question this was meant to
answer.  Before he could ask, Garak kissed him, then
picked him up and carried him into the bedroom.  The
tailor set him down on the bed and rolled him onto
his stomach.  Julian tried to turn and sit up, to take
Elim into his arms, but Garak kept one hand on his
hip, urging him to stay where he was.  Julian did not
insist.

He still didn't like lying flat, face down, during sex.
He felt too vulnerable.  He felt pinned.  Even now,
unwanted memories flashed through his head--
memories of his body pressed helpless to the cold
concrete floor of an interrogation cell while another
Cardassian- No.  He refused to think of that now.
He wouldn't panic.  Elim would never harm him.

He made himself relax as Garak spread him gently
across the bed and took him.  This was not the
usual for them--the extended foreplay bordering on
roughhouse, the verbal banter, the playful exploration
as they discovered each other.  Each encounter was
a lesson.  Not tonight.  Tonight, they made love
without wrestling.  No words were spoken beyond
Garak's occasional murmur of his name.  This was
not a night for playing games.  His mate sought
sanctuary with him, and Julian gave him something to
cling to.  He offered comfort; it was what he'd wanted
to do in the first place.

The truth could wait a little while longer, until Garak
was ready to give it to him.

When they had spent themselves and Garak lay
against him, silent, he could feel his lover's tears
falling on the back of his neck.  One of Garak's arms
was braced under his torso; the other lay near his
head.  Julian reached out to pull his hand close
enough to kiss each fingertip in turn, then pressed 
his lips into the palm.

~~~~~
vi

Garak came by the Infirmary late the next morning.

"We'll have to forego today's lunch," he announced
apologetically.  "Odo's just returned from his fact-
finding trip, and I'm afraid we'll be off again shortly.
We may not be back for several days."

"Where are you going?" asked Julian.

"To see Enabran Tain."

Tain!  Julian was on his feet at the name.  He
should have known that that sneaky old bastard had
something to do with this!  "Garak, what is it?  What's
happened?  If Tain is responsible for all of this-"

"No, dearest, not this time," Garak quickly assured
him.  "Quite the opposite."  The casual facade dropped
for a fraction of a second.  Was there a tremor in his
voice?  He hesitated, then gave Bashir the facts: "It
seems I was not the only...former associate of Tain's
to suffer an unfortunate accident recently.  There were
five others.  They are all dead."

"And you think Tain may be in danger as well?"

"I have to go and find out."

Julian nodded.  "I hope you know what you're doing."
He knew he sounded stiff and unsympathetic,
considering that Garak was so disturbed by this news,
but it irritated him that should Garak be upset that
_Tain_, of all people, had been threatened.

Had Garak known all along that Tain was involved?
Was that the secret he had been so desperate to
conceal?

"I hope so too," the tailor answered.

Odo appeared at the entrance to the Infirmary.  "Mr.
Garak, are you ready to leave?"

"Just one moment, Constable."  Garak turned back to
Bashir, placed one hand on his shoulder and gazed
deeply into his eyes.  "Don't worry, my love," he said.
"We'll only be gone a little while and I'm sure we'll be
perfectly fine."

Julian accepted a kiss, and then watched Garak walk
away with Odo.  When they were half-way down the
Promenade, he slapped his commbadge.

"Bashir to Sisko."

A few quick words with his commander, a few more to
the ranking nurse on duty, and he was off to Runabout
Pad C at a dead run.  Odo and Garak wouldn't be
moving that quickly; he could catch them.

He sprinted down the last stretch of the corridor in the
docking ring, and slowed only when he saw that
Garak was just stepping through the airlock.

"Julian?"  The tailor paused the airlock door, surprised
and puzzled at the sight of him.  "It's kind of you to
see me off, but we've already said our good-byes."

"Oh, I'm not seeing you off," Bashir answered as he
caught his breath.  "I'm coming with you."

"Julian, no," Garak told him sternly.  "This journey
may be dangerous -"

"You just told me you would be perfectly safe."

"That was when the Constable and I were the only
ones going.  I hold your safety to a higher standard.
We'll be traveling into Cardassian space and I don't
want you coming along.  I forbid it."

"You can't forbid me.  Commander Sisko gave me
permission.  Besides, if Tain is in danger, we may find
him injured and unable to seek medical help from his
Cardassian physicians.  You'll need a doctor."

"We've had this argument before," Garak observed.

"And the last time we did, _I_ won it."  Julian's
extremely stubborn expression melted into a wide-
eyed plea with a slight and gently engaging smile.
"Elim, please. Let me do something to help you."

Garak couldn't resist that appeal.  "You know, my
dear Doctor, I'm not entirely certain I'm comfortable
with the way you're learning to manipulate me. It goes
against my better judgment, but..." he sighed, "Oh,
very well.  Get on board--Constable Odo is waiting
and you know how impatient he can be."

~~~~~
vii

"Can I ask where we're going?" Odo asked once the
runabout had cleared DS9's upper pylons.

Julian sat upright in his seat, curious at the question.
"We're not going back to Arawath?"

"Not Arawath," Garak replied.  Then he told Odo, "Set
a course for the third planet of the Oonephran system.
Tain has a safe-house there that no one's supposed
to know about--especially me."

The course was laid in, and they traveled swiftly,
uneventfully, toward the Cardassian border.  As long
as Odo sat there, arms folded, eyes unwavering on the
control panels before him, Garak kept the conversation
light and impersonal.  Enabran Tain, the Obsidian
Order, his ruined tailor's shop: Garak might never have
heard of them.  The reason for their sudden journey
was never referred to.  Julian kept up his end of the
conversation, following his spouse's lead through
discussions of poetry, Federation versus Cardassian
educational systems, Bajoran holidays, and the
decline of quality in the desserts served at Quark's.
Odo _hmph!_'d every once in awhile to indicate he
was paying attention but had no opinions on the
subject.

When Garak got up to replicate some tea, Bashir took
the opportunity to retreat to the aft compartment and
check the medical equipment stored on board--just
in case.  Even if they found Tain unharmed, or didn't
find him at all, they were still flying into a potentially
dangerous situation and it was best to be prepared.

Odo had begun to talk after he'd left.  As he sat on
the floor of the storage compartment to run a series of
diagnostic tests on the medical scanners and dermal
regenerator and inventoried the drugs in the hypospray
kit, Julian could hear the rise and fall of voices from
the front of the runabout.  He heard Tain's name
spoken more than once.

"...he means something to you," Odo was saying.
"Something personal?"

He had thought that he and Garak were occupying
the time with chatter since they couldn't discuss
personal matters in front of the shapeshifter.  He'd
misunderstood; there were apparently things neither
Garak nor Odo had wanted to talk about in front
of _him_, and Garak had kept up his diverting
conversation to delay giving Odo an opportunity to
speak him alone.

"You wouldn't risk going into Cardassian space just
for anyone," Odo continued.  "It would have to be
someone important to you.  Someone you cared about.
I think you were more than Tain's advisor:  I think you
were his protege and he was your mentor--that is,
until he sent you into exile.  Despite all that, you care
enough about him to risk your life for him."

Julian barely heard Garak's counterattack.  He felt his
heart sink at hearing his own suspicions voiced so
clearly.

Even before he'd become involved with Garak, he'd
been aware that Tain stood at the center of many of
the enigmatic Cardassian's mysteries.  When Garak
first mentioned Tain, Julian had been intrigued; when
he'd sought out the former head of the Obsidian Order
to beg him for Garak's life, he'd wondered what this
man was to his friend.  The first time he'd met those
chilling eyes and heard Tain mock his earnest pleas
to save the exile, he'd understood how deeply Tain
hated Garak, and despised him for caring about Garak.
That icy bastard, so secure in his power that he didn't
need to strut and posture the way every other
Cardassian did, would think nothing of crushing one
young Starfleet officer merely out of spite--but he had
chosen not to.  More than that, in spite of his declared
contempt for Garak's continued existence, Tain had
provided Bashir with the medical information necessary
to save Garak.  There was something deeper than
hatred there.  Something stronger.

Odo had not voiced his worst suspicion.

*I have to trust him,* Julian thought.  *He teases me
about the Dabo girls and my dart games with Miles,
but _he_ trusts me.  I have to be able to do the same.
Whatever there used to be between him and Tain, it
was over years ago.  Elim belongs to me now.*

*And yet...*

*Tain exiles Garak, but Garak has only to hear that
the evil old bastard might be dying to fly to his death-
bed.  Tain lures him to Arawath to hand him over to
his enemies in the Order, but the minute Garak
thinks Tain might be in danger, then we're off again!*

He'd completed his check of the equipment, and
even examined some items twice.  They would be
approaching the Oonephran system soon.  Bashir
rose and walked slowly to the front of the runabout.
Odo and Garak were still in the midst of an intense
discussion--Garak now taunting the Constable about
whether or not he had ever cared for one person--
and neither took notice of his reappearance.  Julian
slipped in and took his seat quietly, hands folded in
his lap.  He did not interrupt.

It wasn't the possibility that Garak had had a physical
relationship with Tain that disturbed him.  They might
have left off being lovers years ago, but the emotional
bonds that held Garak to Tain remained intact.  Why
else would a man so normally cautious, who saw
traps and plots everywhere, risk himself again and
again for Tain's sake?  There was still a connection
between them that Julian did not fully understand,
and the power it held over Garak frightened him.

"Are you all right, dear?" Garak asked him suddenly.
"You look a little pale."

"I'm fine-" Julian began to answer, but that was when
the Romulan ship decloaked just above them.  Within
minutes, they were face-to-face with the elderly
Cardassian he considered his rival.

~~~~~
viii

There were guards outside the door.  The Romulan
colonel who had escorted Bashir to his quarters had
told the doctor to consider himself a guest of the
TalShiar, but he had left the guards accompanying
them stationed in the corridor and the door had been
locked from the outside.

Guest?  He was a prisoner.  He'd been held captive
before, though never locked in an officer's quarters--
the quarters Enabran Tain had assigned to his new
aide.

After testing the door and examining the computer
console in the workarea, Julian took a seat
in one of the hard, plastic chairs shaped like a
cube with a piece scooped out, one of several ugly
pieces of Romulan-designed furniture around the
room.  If he didn't sit still, he knew he would begin
to pace like a cat in a cage and wind up bouncing
off the walls.

The last thing he wanted was for Elim to come in
and find him in the middle of an hysterical tantrum.
He realized that the reason why Garak, Odo and
Sisko had conversations around him--like
grown-ups talking over a child's head--was because
they thought he was too young, too naive, and too
emotionally impulsive to handle himself in critical,
non-medical emergencies.  It had happened just
now in Tain's suite: the minute he'd begun to slip,
he'd been sent away so that the Cardassians could
continue their discussion without further interruption.

When they'd first been brought aboard the Romulan
ship, Garak had grabbed him by the arm and hissed
urgently, "Whatever happens, keep quiet!" Bashir had
tried to adhere to this advice.

It'd been easy enough when he, Odo and Garak had
arrived at Enabran Tain's suite: Tain had greeted
them with a warm and hospitable contempt.  Or, at
least, he took the time to engage in a brief verbal duel
with Garak and even to offer Odo a back-handed
compliment or two--pleasantries which Odo punctured
with his usual ego-deflating bluntness. Julian, Tain
had ignored completely.  No one spoke to him, and
he'd felt no need to contribute to the conversation.

Then he'd received a series of surprises which had
jolted him from general uneasiness to outright horror.

The first surprise, that Tain _was_ responsible for the
murder of his former operatives and the attempt on
Garak, was the least astonishing; Julian had half-
expected it anyway.  The second surprise, that Tain
was in charge of a joint Obsidian Order/TalShiar fleet
which was heading toward the Gamma Quadrant to
eradicate the Founders, was more horrifying--but
everything else had followed so swiftly upon Tain's
announcement of his plans that Bashir had no time
to react.

While Odo was just as appalled by Tain's plan as
he was, Garak had expressed some doubt that Tain
would ever seriously consider working with the
Romulans.  "You always said the TalShiar was
sloppy."

Tain, aware of his Romulan allies around the room,
refused to react to this provocative remark.  "You're
quite right, Elim," he'd replied casually. "They should
never have hired the Flaxian to blow up your shop."

"Actually," Garak flung back at him, "_I_ blew up my
shop."

Julian still didn't know if he was more shocked by
the revelation itself, or by Odo's nod of satisfaction
--the Constable had already known.

Then, before he could begin to wonder what had
possessed Garak to do something so dangerous, or
even to be angry at Elim for keeping this from him,
Tain mentioned Garak's betrayal.  And Garak had
protested:  "I never betrayed you!...At least, not in
my heart."

The heart-felt pain in his voice had stabbed Julian
through.  Garak's next words were no easier to hear:

"Why do you think I'm here?  I came because I
thought the Romulans were trying to kill you.  I came
here...to save you."

Julian had wanted to cover his ears; it hurt too much
to hear Elim's voice throb with undisguised emotion as
he spilled his heart to someone else.

*He loves him,* Julian thought, and tried to curl his legs
up in the uncomfortable chair.  *That's why he risks
himself for Tain's sake.  In spite of everything Tain has
done to him, he loves him still.  I know how possessive
Elim can be--how he behaved when I tried to leave
him.  He's the same way with Tain.  Their relationship
might have ended years ago, but he hasn't let it go.*

And then, if _this_ were not difficult enough to observe
in silence, Tain gave Garak a choice: the exile could
return to DS9, taking Bashir with him but leaving
Odo, or he could join Tain's forces and take part in
the mission to the Gamma Quadrant.

Garak, to Julian's relief, had appeared skeptical at
first.  "The last time you made me an offer like that, my
dear Enabran," he'd observed drily, "you immediately
turned me over to the custody of your latest assassin."

"You survived," Tain answered, as if this were no more
than he had expected.  "My assassin, poor Aram, did
not.  A pity--he showed such promise too.  I've missed
his services these past few weeks.  No, I can't forgive
you, Elim, but I'm willing to put that all aside as if it
had never happened."

Tain didn't know that _he_ had killed Aram.  But how
could he not know?  Surely the two guards Odo had
taken down had survived.  They would have told
Tain what had happened--that the human, not Garak,
had shot the assassin.

"I'm asking you to serve Cardassian again, by my
side," Tain had said.  "It's where you belong."

That was when Garak's expression had changed.
The skepticism washed from his face and a strange
radiance lit up his eyes.  "You want me back?" he
asked.

"Of course."

Up to this point, he'd kept quiet just as Garak had
instructed, but here, Julian could contain himself
no longer.  "No..." he'd protested.  "Elim, you can't
believe him."

"Garak," Odo warned.  "This is the man who sent you
into exile.  He just tried to have you killed."

Garak glanced from one to the other.  "Yes, he did,"
he agreed.  "But it doesn't matter."  And he stepped
forward to take Tain's hand.

After that, it had become nightmarish.  Julian had
watched, sick with disbelief, as Garak ceased to be
his Elim and became Enabran Tain's associate.

Did Tain believe that Garak would fall for the same
trick twice?  _Had_ Garak fallen for it?  Bashir honestly
didn't know what to think.

He hoped against hope that Garak was only pretending
to go along with Tain.  There'd been a few signs of it:
Garak had thrown him severe looks of warning whenever
he'd fidgeted or opened his mouth--and stared daggers
when Odo had been taken away--as if all their lives
depended on his silence.  And what about the way
Garak had cried out, in fear for his safety, when the
guards had tried to manhandle him?  This wasn't very
much to hang his hopes on, but it was the only thing that
had made him go with the guards quietly and kept him
here, sitting still, while he waited for Garak to come in.
It was all that had kept him from curling into a fetal
ball on the floor of Tain's suite while Tain deliberately
lobbed all of Garak's secrets at him.  Things he'd forced
himself to stop asking questions about months ago.
Things he had guessed, and things he couldn't have
imagined. Everything except the reason for his
lover's exile.

But if Garak--who could control himself so smoothly
that Julian was not entirely certain what he was up
to--needed him not to lose his temper nor give into
his fears for the sake of their continued safety, then
Julian would cooperate.

It was only when things had gone too far for him to
trust Garak's motives any longer that he'd spoken out.
And that was when he'd been sent here.

He was worried for Odo, restless at his own
memories of being interrogated by the Obsidian Order,
shaken by the disturbing scenes he had witnessed,
angry at being sent out of the room like a whining
child, and even more angry at all the important things
Garak had kept from him--but he was determined
not to make a scene.

If he wanted Garak to regard him as an adult, he had
to behave like one.  No tantrums.  No hysterics.  He
was thirty years old now--a grown man by any human
standard.  He was capable of dealing with this situation
calmly.  When Garak finished whatever business he
had with Tain and finally came in, Julian would insist on
finding out the truth about what was going on.  Then,
once he had decided whether or not his mate could
be trusted, he would either help Garak with his plans
or begin to work on his own.

~~~~~
ix

He should not have let Odo and Julian come along.  If
he'd gone after Tain alone, he would be the only one
at risk right now.  He might even enjoy playing out this
fantasy of his homecoming, but he couldn't afford that
self-indulgence now: Odo and his Julian were here, at
Tain's doubtful mercy; he had to take the one course
of action open to him to ensure that they survived.

***************************************************************
Tain squeezed his hand and smiled with what looked
like genuine fondness.

"Ah, Elim, it's good to have you back."

"It's good to be back," he answered.
***************************************************************

The feelings he'd experienced at that moment were
powerful--Garak could not deny it.  The temptation to
give in, to trust in Tain's promises, was almost over-
whelming.  He wanted so badly to believe that he
had truly been welcomed home...

But they had been through this before.  He wouldn't
be so easily deceived again.

He'd entered a dangerous game: Tain had to believe
that he would do anything to end his exile.  When his
former mentor had summoned the Romulan guards,
Garak let them escort Odo to quarters without protest.
He'd put up with all of Tain's rather petty attempts
to shock Julian.

***************************************************************
In the sitting-room of his suite, Tain poured out two
glasses of a foamy orange beverage and offered one to
Garak.

"Have you given a thought as to what you're going to
do with _him_?"  Tain gestured back to Bashir, who
had followed them from the adjacent office.  "When I
sent you into exile on the Bajoran-held station, I meant
for you to live a long life in hell. I wanted your eternal
misery, Elim. I never dreamed you'd find..." His eyes
dropped coolly down over the doctor, "consolation."

"Oh, he's coming with me, of course."

"You bring your human mate everywhere?"

"We don't like to be apart," Garak answered lightly.
"After all, we haven't been married a full year yet.
You know how newlywed couples are."

Tain shook his head.  "You were never like this with
your first wife.  I recall your mutual indifference quite
well."  He made himself comfortable on the sofa in the
center of the room and smiled at Julian's amazement.
"Oh, didn't he tell you he'd been married before?"

"It was a long time ago," Garak explained.  "We were
very young.  As soon as we reached the age of
consent, the alliance was arranged by our families--"
he threw a scowling glance at Tain, who continued to
smile.  "We never met before we signed the contracts
and we cared nothing for each other.  The marriage
was dissolved when I was exiled. We can talk about
it later."
***************************************************************

Fortunately, Julian had seemed aware that Tain was only
trying to upset him and he did not to rise to this bait.
He'd even managed to hold his tongue while Tain had
indulged in a lengthy and detailed reminiscence of the
old days, of inquisitions Garak had conducted at the
height of his career.

***************************************************************
"You had a vicious streak, Elim," said the elder
Cardassian with an almost wistful note of nostalgia.
"You had a gift.  I never met anyone who relished a
good interrogation as much as you did."
***************************************************************

Garak had agreed with every word.  Why not? It was all
true.  He _had_ enjoyed his work in those days; he'd
been good at it.  It was easy--perhaps too easy--to
convince Tain that he was enthusiastic about returning
to his former profession; he was almost ready to
believe it himself.

But he would rather that Julian had not witnessed
this scene.  Aside from the doctor's presence
disrupting his concentration and bringing him back
to the dire reality of their position when he most
needed to submerge himself in the role he played,
the nature of his discussion with Tain had too brutal
for his naive young mate to be subjected to.  In one
brief conversation, Tain had revealed more of his
personal history than he'd ever wanted Julian to know.

He knew how difficult this situation must be for
Julian: imprisonment, the guards, the suggestion of
torture.  The poor boy must be haunted by memories
of his last encounter with the Obsidian Order.  He'd
appeared to be in a state of shock when Tain had
finally sent him away.

The best way to see him through this was to keep
him under strict control. In addition to ensuring that
the doctor not aggravate this delicate situation
with his well-meant but naive blustering, Garak
needed to show Tain he had not strayed so far from
Cardassian ways that he couldn't govern his mate.

At the same time, he found it rather exciting to
exercise this level of domination over Julian, and
especially gratifying to see his usually willful young
mate comply with his wishes.  Not that he wanted
Julian to be docile--he enjoyed the doctor's playful
spirit and had no desire to see it cowed--but certainly
it would make their domestic routine more pleasant if
he could exert the traditional authority of a Cardassian
male over his spouse every once in awhile.  If they
got home safely, he'd have to remember to speak to
Julian about this.

Julian had been extraordinarily well-behaved for a time,
sitting quietly out of the way, receiving any number
of unpleasant jolts without comment.  Everything had
gone as smoothly as could be expected, until Colonel
Lovok of the TalShiar had come in to report that
they'd passed through the wormhole and were on
course for the Founders' planet.

***************************************************************
"And what about the Changeling?" asked Tain.

"He is in quarters on C-deck," Lovok replied. "There are
forcefields in place to prevent his escape."

"Your first assignment, Garak," Tain announced. "Talk
to Odo.  Convince him that it would be in everyone's
best interest if he were to provide us with all the
information he has on his people."

"No!" Julian was suddenly on his feet.

Tain turned to look at him.  "You have something to
say, Lieutenant?" he prompted.

Garak prayed to every deity he had never believed in
that Julian would be sensible enough to keep his
mouth shut.

But Bashir's control was beginning to break.

"Odo's my friend," he answered.  "I thought he was
yours too, Garak.  Does it mean that much to you,
going home, that you'll do whatever Enabran Tain
asks to accomplish it?"

"Your friend?" asked Lovok.  "A Changeling?"

"Merely an acquaintance," Garak assured him, and
Tain.  To Julian, he said, "As fond as I am of Odo, if I
have to choose between him and Cardassia, our dear
Constable will have to be sacrificed."

"And when Tain asks you to sacrifice me in the name
of Cardassia?  Will you be ready to pay that price too?"

"He won't," Garak answered with more surety than he
felt.  "He won't hurt you.  You belong to me."

"But he's tried to kill _you_," Bashir pointed out.

"Believe me, dear Julian, he has his reasons for that."

"You aren't going to throw away everything for him-"

"I think," Tain said in a dark tone that set off alarms in
Garak's head, "that this discussion would continue
much more smoothly if you were not here, Lieutenant."
He summoned the guards, who had returned to the
outer office.  "There are empty quarters on this level,
just down the corridor," Tain told them.  "They will be
suitable for my aide. Escort the human there."

One of the guards grabbed Julian roughly by the arm;
the other took his wrist--a gesture that could send the
doctor into a panic even when he was perfectly safe.
Julian began to struggle frantically.

"Don't-!" Garak yelped, then continued in more
commanding tones, as if he gave Romulans orders
every day:  "He is not to be injured."

Tain, behind him, nodded--and the guards relaxed
their hold enough for Julian to try and pull free.

"Elim, you can't let them-"

"Ju-li-an," Garak snapped out each syllable, "be still!"

Bashir stared at him, confused, angry, resentful. His
eyes darted over Garak's face, searching for some
sign that he had not been betrayed.

"My love," the tailor said more softly, "please."

Julian's eyes were still flashing with turbulent,
dangerous emotions, but he stopped fighting.

Garak smiled.  "Go to our quarters and wait for me.
I'll be there shortly."
***************************************************************

He knew that Julian doubted him, but there really had
been little he could do to reassure him when Tain was
standing there, watching them, smirking.  He would
like Julian's trust, but if he couldn't get that, then
Julian's continued compliance must suffice.

The doctor was in greater danger than he realized.

***************************************************************
After the Romulans escorted out their human charge,
Garak sank back to the sofa and finished off his
orange drink in one gulp.

Tain asked, "Are you sure you don't want get rid of him,
Elim?  You may find a human spouse...inconvenient
when you resume your old duties.  His political
awkwardness notwithstanding, that boy is unruly and
ill-mannered." He frowned.  "Disruptive. Whatever
personal appeal you find in his companionship, I think
you'll realize once we're home that he's going to be
more trouble than he's worth.  We can drop him off at
the space station when we go back through the
wormhole, or we can...misplace him while we're on
this mission.  The confusion of battle."  The old man
shrugged, as if to say *Who can say what will happen
during a war?*

"Surely the Federation will protest his disappearance."

"No doubt they will," Tain agreed.  "But he is only an
insignificant little junior Starfleet officer with suspect
loyalties--since he got into bed with you.  They won't
create a quadrant-wide incident over him."

"Commander Sisko is quite fond of him," Garak
persisted.

"Your station's human commander will have far more
pressing issues to deal with. Elim, why this misdirection?
If you want the boy kept alive, just say so."

"I want him alive."

"You're quite certain?"

"I will do almost anything if you command me," Garak
answered.  "But where that one human is concerned,
I must refuse. Promise me, Enabran, that he won't be
harmed."  "

"Very well."  Tain smiled.  "I won't hurt him--you have
my word."
***************************************************************

He'd had to tell the truth. Tain knew exactly what
Bashir meant to him and would be suspicious if he
tried to deny it now.

Did he believe Tain's promise?  No.  But the less
Tain thought about Bashir, the safer Bashir would be.
If he could keep Julian quiet, tractable, and out of
Tain's way, Garak had a hope of protecting his mate.
They might survive this adventure.

His new duties as Tain's aide had kept him busy for
longer than he'd anticipated.  Once free, Garak walked
quickly down the corridors to find the room Tain had
assigned him.  Julian had been out of his sight,
unprotected and under guard, for hours now.

~~~~~
x

Garak dismissed the guards at the door once they
released the security lock.  Inside, Bashir was sitting,
waiting for him.  The doctor looked angry,
uncomfortable, sullen but--Garak noted with some
relief--not as if he'd been threatened or mistreated.

"Did you torture him?" The question shot out.

"No, of course not," he answered.  "You ought to know
that you can't torture a shapeshifter.  I've spoken with
him."

"You interrogated him."

"He's quite unharmed."

Julian looked doubtful, but he accepted this.  "Then
where have you been?"

"Sitting in on strategy discussions with Tain and
Colonel Lovok."

"You're playing one of your games right now, aren't
you, with Tain?" Bashir asked hopefully.

"It's not a game for pleasure's sake, I assure you,"
Garak answered. "There is too much at stake."

Julian relaxed a little at this reassurance.  "But,
once again, you won't explain the rules to me," he
said.  "You keep me in the dark."

"There was no time to explain-"

He shook his head.  "You knew you were in danger
days ago--And you never told me!  You suspected
Tain had something to do with it.  You blew up your
own shop and nearly got yourself _killed_."

"I didn't wish to upset you unnecessarily."

"Upset-!" Julian sputtered.  "Unnecess-!"

"Until we were taken aboard this ship, I knew no more
about the danger I faced than you did.  I didn't know
that Tain was involved.  I had no idea of his alliance
with the TalShiar.  Now, of course, I see that he's been
planning this for months.  The mystery fleet in the
Orias sector.  His attempts to forearm the Empire
against Dominion infiltration.  All the signs have been
there."

"Garak, if you have any influence over Tain, you can't
let him carry out his plans against the Founders."

"I can't prevent it," Garak told him.

"No, we can." Julian lowered his voice, confidentially.
"I've been examining the ship's computer system."  He
waved an arm in the general direction of the terminal
in the workarea behind him.  "I think we can modify
the subspace link to send a message to Commander
Sisko on DS9.  We can let him know where we are,
warn him what Tain is planning to do. Perhaps
Starfleet can intervene."

"You don't know a thing about Romulan technology."

"No," Bashir admitted, "but you do, don't you?  You
could do it."

"I might be able to, but I'm not going to."

"We can't sit by and let this happen!"

"We don't have a choice!  Your plan is too risky.
Romulans monitor even their routine computer
operations with almost fanatical devotion.  If your
message to Commander Sisko is intercepted, then
all of us are doomed.  Julian, you want to save
everyone, but that is simply impossible. If we are
lucky, I may be able to see you, myself and Constable
Odo out of here alive. The Founders will have to take
care of themselves.  You must allow me to handle
this in the way I think best-" Garak began.

"You're going to stand by and let Tain destroy a whole
civilization!" Bashir interrupted.   "This is genocide!"

"Julian, please, don't interfere.  Promise me you won't
go near that terminal."

"We have to put a stop to this."  Then, with renewed
suspicion:  "Who is it you're playing games with, Elim?
Tain, or me?"

"Dearest..."

"If you won't help me, I'll do it without you."

Garak was in no mood to argue over this dangerous
foolishness.

"You will do as you're told!" he commanded. "You
will not tamper with the computer system, and you
will stop trying to meddle in a situation you don't
understand.  I will take care of this in my own way."

Julian recoiled as if he'd been slapped.

"I have had just about enough of you ordering me
about," he said, eyes flashing with barely restrained
anger.  "You are _not_ my lord and master and your
every word is not my law.  I let you dress me up--I don't
mind that.  In fact, I rather like it.  And I'll put up with
a certain amount of domination." He squirmed in his
chair and confessed, "I like that too.  I will follow your
lead if I have a reason to believe it's in a good cause,
but that doesn't mean that you have the right to my
unquestioning obedience. Perhaps typical Cardassian
husbands expect their wives to submit to that sort of
outmoded idea of proper spousal behavior, but you
and I hardly have a typical Cardassian marriage."

"No, we certainly don't.  Nevertheless, I don't think it's
too much to expect a little loyalty from you, my dear."

"It is if you expect me to sit quietly while millions of
people are murdered!  And what about Odo?" said
Julian.  "You aren't really going to interrogate him, are
you?"

"I'm afraid I'll have to."

"But you can't do that!"  He was half-out of his chair.

Garak took him by the shoulders and gently pressed
him back.  "I can't prevent this either," he said.
"Refusing to follow Tain's orders will not keep Odo
from being interrogated.  To accomplish our goals,
there are certain things I will have to do that I know
you'll find distasteful.  I'm not asking you to approve.
All I want is for you to believe that I do it for a
reason and that you not undermine my efforts."

"Are you thinking that if _you_ question Odo, you
won't be as harsh as the Romulans?"

"I brought him here," Garak answered evasively.  "I'm
responsible for him.  Besides, Tain won't trust me
unless I can show that my allegiance lies with him."

"So that's it."  The doctor's mouth turned down with a
scowl.  "You're trying to prove yourself to Tain.  To
show him that even if you've left the Order and married
a human and you live in Bajoran space on a Federation-
run station, you're still the same old Garak who used
to stand at his right hand."

Garak didn't answer.

"Garak--Tain's most trusted advisor," Julian went on,
biting the words.  "His grand inquisitor.  Do you think I
don't know?  Even if I hadn't guessed before, your old
friend Tain certainly told me more about you than I
ever wanted to learn."  He relented slightly.  "Elim, I
don't care what you used to be.  I won't ask--I won't
think about it.  But you're not the man who used to
blindly do Enabran Tain's bidding.   _I_ know that you
aren't, even if you try to tell yourself you haven't changed."
Then he asked, "What if he has revoked your exile?
Will you go back to Cardassia?"

"Surely you don't think his offer is sincere this time?"
Garak asked back.

"The question is: Do you?"

"I couldn't go without you."

"I don't want to go," Bashir retorted.  "The only human
on Cardassia who isn't a political prisoner?  No, thank
you!"

"Then what are you worried about?"

"The problem is that I never know where _your_
loyalties lie," Julian folded his arms and sighed.  "I
know you love me--I wouldn't put up with all your
bullying and your mysterious, infuriating little games
and everything else that comes with being with you if
I didn't believe that.  But you have no allegiance to
anything that's important to me.  Your values aren't
the same as mine.  The rules you live by.  When it's a
matter concerning Tain or some obscure Obsidian-
Order code of conduct, I don't know what you'll do.
No, I _do_ know.  Cardassia comes first.  I come
second."

"You haven't yet been called upon to choose between
me and Starfleet," Garak answered.  "I've tried to keep
you from confronting such a dilemma.  Commander
Sisko has also avoided placing you in that awkward
position, and I for one appreciate his tact.  But one day
it may be inescapable.  What will you do then?"

"I don't know."  Bashir's lashes fluttered down as he
murmured his reply.  "I can't say until it happens.  I
guess it would depend on the situation."  Then he
looked up suddenly into Garak's eyes.  "Are you
saying that your loyalty to Tain is the same as mine
to Sisko?"  He laughed a little bitterly.  "I don't think it
is.  _I_ may admire my commander and respect him
as a man, but I've never been in love with him."

Garak blinked at this unexpected accusation.  "Julian,
I don't know what sort of relationship you imagine I
had with Enabran Tain-"

"You know," Julian shot back.

Yes, he did know.  In other circumstances, he might
even have found it amusing.  "Your jealousy is
flattering," he answered, "but completely misplaced.
I can only ask that you trust me."

"How can I, when I know how you feel about him?
You might not intend to sacrifice Odo--or me!--for the
chance to return to Cardassia with him, but that
temptation might be too much for you. I can see how
badly you want to go home."

This last remark struck true.

"Oh, my dearest Doctor." Garak sat down in a chair
matching Bashir's. "You have _no_ idea.  You are
surrounded by others of your own kind every day.
Your homeworld is open to you any time you wish to
return.  How can you possible _know_ what it means
to me to hear Tain say the words even if he doesn't
mean them?"

There was that throb of emotion in his voice again.
Julian watched as the tailor rested his elbows on his
knees, and pressed his hands to the ridges encircling
his eyes.  He rose and put his hand on Garak's
shoulder.

"It is tempting," Garak admitted. He slipped one arm
around the slender waist, rested his brow against
Julian's hip.  "But nothing is more precious to me than
you are.  Not Cardassia.  Not Tain."  He hoped Julian
would take this as the truth and not as a manipulative
effort to placate him.  He lifted his eyes to meet the
doctor's--no longer angry, but sympathetic and full of
concern.  "Are you certain you won't accompany me?"

"I...can't.  Elim-"

"Tain has offered me the use of his country estate on
Trenellus II.  It's a private, out-of-the-way sort of place
where one might relegate a socially inconvenient
mistress or an illegitimate child, but you'd find it far
more comfortable than Cardassia Prime."

Julian's lips twitched in a smile, to let Garak know he
realized that this was a joke.  "I don't think I'd like it
if you weren't there with me," he answered.

"Then it is impossible.  I'll just have to extend Tain my
regrets."  He smiled.  "We both know, of course, that
he's lying."

Bashir nodded.

"I won't sacrifice you for Tain.  You must believe that."
He reached up to take his mate by the forearms and
drew him down so that they were at eye-level.  "When
we are on the station, I allow you to intercede on my
behalf with the Bajoran and Starfleet personnel in
sensitive situations.  I acknowledge that you are in
a better position than I to handle them.  Now, I have a
long experience at handling Enabran Tain, and I
know...something of Romulans.  Will you accept my
authority in _this_ situation?"

Reluctantly, Julian consented.

"My love, I don't demand your obedience very often--I
know I won't get it--but will you _please_, this once,
do as I say?  Let me take care of this."  Arm about
Julian, he escorted him across the room.  "I have
some business to attend to before I can rest.  Do you
think you can sleep?"

"You're going to talk to Odo, aren't you?"

"Yes."

The doctor struggled with this fact.  When they stood
beside the bunks molded into the bulkhead, he said
quietly, "I don't want you to do this.  I'll never be able
to forgive you if you hurt him--and I don't think you
will either."

"I promise you, I'll do all I can to ensure the Constable's
safety."

Julian nodded.  He thumped the unpadded surface of
the lower berth, and glanced at the hard chairs.  "The
floor seems to be the most comfortable spot."  He
dragged the blanket off the bed and tossed it on the
carpet.  Garak watched as he settled down, then sat
on the floor beside him.

"Is she still alive?" the doctor asked as he squirmed
to find a comfortable position, tried to form a pillow
with one bunched-up corner of his blanket.

"Is who-?  Oh, my former spouse.  Really, dear Julian,
I have no idea.  We separated years before my exile.
She renounced me, of course, but that was merely a
matter of form.  Even when we shared a household,
we were never beloved. We were not mated as you
and I are."

"You didn't have sex with her."

"Of course I had sex with her.  It was expected of us."

The next question should have been: *Did you have
children?* but it seemed that Julian had decided for
once not to venture into his painful memories, or else
it didn't occur to him to ask.

Instead, he said, "I suppose _she_ obeyed your every
command in traditional Cardassian fashion."

Garak chuckled.  "I'm afraid you know very little about
women, Cardassian or otherwise."

Julian rested his cheek on the crook of his arm and
shut his eyes.  "I'm not likely to learn much at this rate,
am I?"

The tailor smiled and stroked the clipped curls at his
young mate's temple. "Sleep, my dear one. Try to
trust me."

"I'll try.  It's not easy."

"I know."  Then he rose and left their quarters. Odo
would need to revert to his liquid state soon and the
second phase of his interrogation was about to begin.

~~~~~
xi

For more than half an hour, Julian lay on the floor,
eyes shut and mind in a tumult.  Then he was up,
tearing off the access panels beneath the computer
console and trying to reconfigure the subspace link.

He had sincerely meant to defer to Garak's request--
he'd wanted to show that he would cooperate if he
were appealed to reasonably instead of ordered around--
but what Garak had asked of him was impossible.  He
couldn't lie down quietly and sleep when an entire
species was about to be slaughtered and he might be
able to do something to prevent it.  And he couldn't
stop wondering what was happening to Odo.

Julian had been tortured himself; he'd experienced the
Obsidian Order's methods of extracting information.
Memories still flashed through his head: the manacles
restraining his wrists; the smirking guards with their
truncheons; the cold concrete floor of his cell; the
blinding bright lights; the repeated threat of rape; the
rack; the humiliation; the hopelessness.  Garak must
be as familiar with these procedures, from the point-
of-view of the torturer.

He told himself it didn't matter that Garak had once
interrogated people: he had come to terms with that
part of his lover's past--or at least he tried not to think
too much about it.  But it did matter that Garak was
torturing Odo right now.  No, not torturing. Questioning.
Shapeshifters couldn't be tortured.

Then what was Garak doing to him?  Bashir recalled
one of the tales Tain had told of Garak interrogating a
doctor:  "After four hours of watching you stare at him,
he confessed.  He just kept saying `His eyes...his
eyes...'"  Yes, he could imagine Garak doing that,
staring at his victim until the poor man crumbled.
Physical violence was distasteful to Elim.  He would
not resort to brutality if other options were open to him.

But Julian could also imagine Odo meeting that
piercing stare unruffled.  If Garak was a model of
intractable will, Odo was his match for sheer
stubbornness. The two of them might well sit
staring, neither breaking, for all eternity.

So, what was Garak doing?  How did one interrogate
a shapeshifter?

He wanted to trust his mate, but he couldn't forget the
way Garak's eyes had lit up when Tain had asked him
to come home.  He knew what it meant.  Garak rarely
spoke of Cardassia in a personal way.  He praised its
moral, social and educational principles daily, but he
seemed reluctant to reveal even the most innocent
details of his own past--as if any pleasant memories
would be a reproach to their present life together.  As
if he'd rather not remind either Julian or himself of
everything he'd lost.

No, Julian couldn't know what Garak felt living in
exile. He was sympathetic, of course, but he'd never
experienced that longing for a home he'd never see
again.  He'd never been isolated from the company
of other humans.  Any distance between himself and
his home, his family, was of his own choosing. What
would he do if he were forbidden to return to Earth?
What would he be willing to do, desperate after years
without hope, for the opportunity to go home?

How far Garak would go to end his exile?

Garak was capable of practically any vile act while
under Tain's influence.  Tain himself had said so:  "I
never had to order Garak to do anything"; "He will do
whatever I require."  Julian knew that it was true.  In
Tain's service, Garak had committed any number of
unspeakable crimes without hesitation, without
remorse--and yet in spite of this, Julian believed
that Garak was essentially a decent man.  He
couldn't have lived with Elim all these months, loved
him so intensely, if he had not seen something
worthwhile in the tailor's nature.  There _was_ good in
him--Julian had to believe it--even if every honest and
compassionate impulse had been thwarted since
childhood.

Garak must have fallen into Tain's hands while very
young.  That first marriage had been arranged at Tain's
direction--so Julian gathered.  If Garak had just come
of age at that time, he must have known Tain while he
was still a boy.  Tain had undoubtedly brought Garak
into the Obsidian Order.  He'd trained Elim personally.
Kept him at his side.  Had he seduced him, so young?
Here, Julian couldn't guess.  Certainly, that malignant
old man had corrupted the boy Elim had been.  It made
Bashir sick, furious to imagine how Tain had remade
Garak into an image of himself, taught his young pupil
to be the perfect operative, assassin, inquisitor, twisted
him to cruelty remarkable even by Cardassian standards.

But _he_ had brought Elim away from that.  Garak
scoffed at the idea, but Julian knew that, if nothing
else, his presence alone in Elim's life had provided a
positive influence.  He'd befriended the outcast.  He'd
fought to save Garak's life when no one else cared if the
Cardassian lived or died--or would rather see him dead
if they had a choice.  He'd given Elim someone to
care for.  Julian wanted to rely on his belief that Garak
had truly been changed through loving him, but he had
to face the possibility that while they were here, Elim
was Tain's creature, and no longer his.  Garak's bond to
Tain had never been completely broken.  That evil
influence, of so much deeper and longer duration,
could pull Garak back into his old life despite all his
promises and good intentions.  The lure might be
impossible to resist.  Garak's allegiance was already
conflicted--a few words, revoking his exile, calling him
home, and Tain could reclaim him.  Julian could lose
him.

Had he lost already?  If Garak could really interrogate
Odo, who knew what else he would do?

He couldn't depend on Garak's promises for their
safety.  If something was going to be done, Julian
would have to do it himself.

All he had to do was access the computer, send his
message to Sisko, find out where Odo was being held,
free him, dodge the Romulans, find Garak and use
whatever power he had to try and convince him to
come with them, find the runabout, breach the security
codes without setting off any alarms, open the shuttle
bay doors, elude the tractor beams, and fly back to
the Alpha Quadrant. Simplicity itself.

He had accessed the codes for subspace.  Now if he
could just decipher these Romulan glyphs...

A series of urgent bleeps warned him that the guards
were trying to override the lock he'd placed on the
inside of the door. Bashir leapt to his feet, kicked
the panels back into place, and stepped slowly away
from the console.  He raised his hands as the guards
burst in.

Well, Garak had warned him that the Romulans
monitored their computer systems diligently and he
might be caught.

"Is there something I can help you with?" he asked
politely, innocently.

They trained their weapons on him.  "Come with us."

~~~~~
xii

Garak sank down into the chair, head in his hands, as
Odo melted into a glistening orange puddle and flowed
into the container on the floor behind him.

He couldn't do this.

It came as quite a shock to him to realize how much
he'd changed during his exile.  Even before he'd
promised Bashir, he'd had no intention of harming
Odo--once, he'd been so skilled an inquisitor that he
could extract information from his subject without
resorting to physical inducements--but he'd believed
he was still fully capable of seeing this assignment
through.

When Tain had first told him about the device the
Obsidian Order had designed to prevent a Changeling
from altering its biomolecular structure, Garak had
imagined its impact would be primarily psychological.
He'd been prepared to play up on Odo's anxiety at
being unable to shift out of his humanoid shape;
the sensation of being trapped would weaken the
Constable's usual resolve. Odo would not be injured,
but if he had any secrets to surrender--Garak
doubted that he did; at least, Odo's secrets would
hold little interest for Tain--his inquisitor would
possess them with little inconvenience.

But the effects of that device had been far more
devastating than he'd anticipated.  The sight of
the shapeshifter trapped in his humanoid form
beyond endurance, outer surface flaking away in
strips, face ghastly, skeletal--as if Odo possessed a
skeleton!--had all been too much for him to bear. He'd
been unable to observe his subject's pain with his
old dispassion.  He'd been moved to mercy. And yet
Odo had held onto his secrets, suffering the agony
rather than relinquish one scrap of information. Garak
had finally pleaded with him to give him _something_,
no matter how trivial, so that this torment could end
for both of them.

Now, it was over, and Garak was faced with a terrible
knowledge about himself.  Julian was right: he was
not the ruthless interrogator he'd once been.  In his
years away from the Obsidian Order, he'd become
weak.  Sentimental.  Unprofessional.

For the first time, he realized that he could never go
home.  Not because it was forbidden--even if Tain
revoked his exile and welcomed him with open arms,
he would not be able to resume his old life.  He was
not fit for it any longer.

His relationship with Julian had brought him to this.
When he'd first approached the young doctor, he'd
been as pleasant as possible to attract Bashir's
interest.  He'd taken deliberate pains to conceal his
past, even those things which he still believed he had
no reason to be ashamed of but he knew would be
disturbing to the doctor's delicate human sensibilities.
All part of the camouflage of seduction.  But then he
had fallen in love and his disguise had grown more
elaborate, and far more important.  When his newly
claimed mate had been in a particularly fragile state of
mind, he'd become gentle.  He'd made himself Julian's
protector--a role, like any other, created out of
necessity.  And, if he had to tell the truth to himself, he
hadn't minded this show of tenderness.  He _liked_
the person he'd become for Julian; it almost made him
believe he deserved the happiness he was experiencing.
But even in those moments of happiness, he had not
believed that this was his real life: the trappings of
domesticity were only another disguise he had
assumed.  They would be cast aside when he returned
to his rightful place.  He had not given anything up;
his true self--if such a creature existed--remained
untouched by the softening influences of the human
he had chosen.  It astonished him to learn that after
all these months, the qualities he'd assumed had
ingrained themselves so deeply.  When had the
disguise become more than surface?

He had not meant to surrender anything he considered
essential to his identity, but something was gone.  His
heart was not entirely Cardassian.

Cardassia was lost to him.  His life--his only life now--
was on DS9.

He'd sacrificed so much for Julian's sake, more than
he had ever intended.  And he saw it only now, when
Julian must despise him most for everything he had
once been.

~~~~~
xiii

A lie.  It was far from the first, even to Tain.

"Constable Odo knows nothing," Garak reported with
studied detachment.  "He never broke."

Odo had given him one secret, but Garak considered it
privileged information, meant only for himself.  It
would mean nothing to Tain.

Tain had accepted this. "Well, I'm sure you performed
your duties with your usual skill," he said with a fatherly
smile.  "It's good to see you haven't lost your old zeal,
Elim."

The old man had even agreed to keep Odo alive at
Garak's advice, although Colonel Lovok had voiced
some suspicion at Garak's motives.

A most efficient man, the colonel. From the moment of
their introduction, Garak could see that Lovok might
make things difficult.  The Romulan would bear close
watching--just as Lovok had sworn to keep an eye on
him.

As far as Tain was concerned, however, Garak had
come home.

"A glorious future awaits you on Cardassia," Tain
announced.  "But first, we must make Cardassia
safe from its enemies here.  Come with me."

The fleet would do battle with the Founders in less
than an hour.  They had a good chance of success.
What then? Garak wondered as he followed Tain
down the corridors of the warbird to an unnamed
destination. He might be able to convince Tain to
release Odo and Bashir when they returned to the
Alpha Quadrant, but he doubted he would be permitted
to accompany them.   And what if Tain refused to let
them go?  He might have to return to Cardassia and
keep up this pretense for awhile. For a few weeks?
Months?  Bashir would never be able to live on
Cardassia Prime for so long. Could he send Julian to
the house on Trenellus II or some other relatively
safe and remote location?  Perhaps he would only
have the opportunity to smuggle the doctor back
into Federation space while he was forced to resume
his old life--an ironic fate now that he was unfit for it.
Perhaps Odo would have to be sacrificed; Lovok
had spoken of taking the shapeshifter back to
Romulus for further study and he might not be
able to prevent that.  It was a matter of priorities.
He'd have to see what Tain would permit.

Meanwhile, the location of the runabout--and the
shortest route to it--remained foremost in his mind.

They had arrived at a door; the Romulan script on the
nameplate and the guards stationed on either side told
Garak that this was the brig.  He felt a cold premonitory
dread overtake him as Tain turned and handed him a
disruptor.

"I have one last test for you, Elim."

The door slid open: Odo, returned to humanoid form after
a few hours in his liquid state, was sealed in a small
holding cell behind a forcefield.  Bashir knelt on the
floor in another cubby, hands bound behind his back
and tethered to one of a row of metal loops in the wall
about a half-meter above the floor; he lifted his head at
the Cardassians' entrance.

"You were right, Garak," Tain continued.  "The shape-
shifter may still be useful to us if we are to understand
the nature of our enemy. But there is no reason to
keep Lt. Bashir alive."

Odo threw himself forward, liquefied as he struck the
forcefield, and slid down before he could reform
himself.

Ignoring the alarmed expression on Julian's  face,
Garak scowled at his former mentor.  "This is a
little extreme, isn't it?" he asked in *Oh, come now,*
tones.  "Haven't I proven myself to you yet?  I've done
everything you asked."

"You haven't done this." Tain was smiling.  "Kill the
human, Elim. Show me that you sever all connections
with your days of disgrace."

"You promised me you weren't going to hurt him."  He
knew even as he spoke that it was a stupid thing to
say.

"And I am a man who keeps his promises," Tain
answered.  "I haven't harmed your adoring human mate.
I won't.  _You're_ going to be the one to hurt him."
He glanced at the young man bound on his knees,
watching them with enormous eyes.  "Here is an
enemy of the Cardassian state--an enemy of _mine_.
Do you know what he's been up to in your quarters
this evening?  I warned you he'd be trouble.  Surely
you must see now that we can't let him live inside
the Empire.  This insidious little spy, the companion
of a man in _your_ sensitive position.  Who
knows what kind of damage he could do?  He's
committed one murder already--Did you think I didn't
know Lt. Bashir was responsible for Aram's death?
That crime can't go unpunished.  I can forgive you for
all you've done, Elim, if you perform this service for
Cardassia.  I want to see you destroy something
you love."

He should have known that Tain would require this.

Garak glanced at Tain, at the guards, at the
control panel over Odo's cell, and considered his
options.  He hoped Julian would forgive him for what
he had to do now.

Taking a deep breath, Garak pointed the disruptor at
the kneeling human.  The weapon was set to kill; the
blast would probably dissolve an entire humanoid
body in a matter of seconds.  Nevertheless, he took
care to aim directly between those dark eyes.

Julian didn't squirm before the disruptor leveled at his
face.  Lifting his eyes, he whispered:  "Do you, Elim?"

Garak couldn't help but admire this unexpected show
of bravery.  No one could call his Julian a coward!  He
knew his human mate's frailties; to Julian, this grotesque
situation must seem like an enactment of one of his
nightmares.  The poor boy must be terrified, but
instead of thrashing frantically against his bonds, he
met Garak's gaze over the arced muzzle of the
disruptor without flinching.

"You know I do," Garak told him.

"Then you won't be able to do this." Bashir spoke with
a low-toned, urgent intensity, as if what he had to say
was for Garak's benefit and not an attempt to beg for
his own life.  "I know what Cardassia means to you.
You want to go home so badly that you'll do whatever
Tain says to be able to return.  You think you're
willing to pay any price for it--but this price is too high.
If I mean anything at all to you, then you'll never be able
to live with killing me.  This will haunt you, Elim. You'll
destroy yourself too."

Garak didn't know what to make of this speech.
Bashir's plea seemed to be sincere.  Surely he didn't
believe that he was about to die at Tain's command?
Did Julian trust him so little?  Or was the young doctor
better at carrying out a deception than he suspected?
Was Julian trying to help him by stalling for time?

Tain chuckled.  The old bastard was enjoying this
thoroughly.

The game had to be played out to its finish.

"Beloved," Garak replied with cheerful, regretful candor,
"please, don't make this more difficult than it must be.
There are few things in this universe I truly care for,
and it will be quite painful to kill one of them.  I had
hoped I'd never have to choose between you and all
that is important to me as a Cardassian, but I'm afraid
our present circumstances have forced me to decide.
I am so sorry."

He flexed his wrist as if he meant to readjust his aim,
then turned suddenly.  The door sliding open behind
him just then covered the action.  Colonel Lovok
entered.

"We are approaching the Omarian Nebula," Lovok
announced.  "The fleet is prepared to begin its assault
on the Founders' planet."

"Then we're needed up on the bridge."  Tain held up a
hand.  "This execution will have to wait, Elim. There
are more important matters to attend to.  I'm sure
you won't mind the delay."

"No, not at all."

Behind them, Bashir slid to the floor, knees against
his chest.  Fainted?  Garak would have liked to go to
Julian and reassure himself that the boy was all right,
but he had no time to turn back now.  He followed
Tain out.

~~~~~
xiv

Julian would be relieved to know that the Founders
could take care of themselves.  He was probably
aware of it already; as Garak ran back to the holding
cells, the ship was rocked by multiple blasts from the
JemHadar fleet.

It had been a trap.  The Founders had abandoned the
planet below, but they had left 150 JemHadar ships
waiting in ambush in the obscuring clouds of the
Omarian Nebula.  The Obsidian Order/TalShiar fleet
was outnumbered and outmaneuvered; defeat was
inevitable.

As he observed the disaster on the bridge of the warbird--
the exploding consoles, the injured crew, Colonel
Lovok's shouted orders to form an ineffective defense--
Garak's well-honed survival instincts told him it was
time for a swift exit.  All games were over.  They had
to make their escape _now_.

His departure from the bridge went unnoticed in the
chaos.  He made his way to the brig, and clubbed the
guard at the door before the unwary young Romulan
could realize what had hit him. Retrieving the guard's
disruptor, he slipped inside.  His first target was the
control panel for the forcefield over Odo's cell.

The shapeshifter was free.

"Watch the door," Garak ordered.   Bashir still lay
slumped in his cell, eyes shut, cheek against the
floor.   "Has he been unconscious all this time?"

"He hasn't moved since you left," Odo reported.  "He is
breathing."

Garak dropped to his knees to untie his mate.  He
braced Julian's collar against his shoulder and pushed
him back, taking the doctor's weight off the tether
enough to loosen it and slip his hands free.  Julian
fell forward; Garak took him by the shoulders to
steady him.

"Doctor...Julian...Dearest..." Each name was
punctuated by a light slap.  "Julian, dear, wake up."
He continued to slap, lightly, repeatedly, insistently,
until Bashir's eyes fluttered open and focused upon
him.

"Elim...?"

"I'm afraid we must be leaving.  This attack on the
Founders has not"--the deck beneath them shuddered
with the force of an explosion somewhere below--
"gone exactly as Tain had foreseen."

"You couldn't do it."

"I never intended to."

"You never-"  Julian laughed as he placed one
hand on the Cardassian's chest to push himself
upright.  "You weren't going to shoot me."

"Of course I wasn't," Garak answered, teasing.  "Did
you really think I could?  For a young man of such
remarkable intelligence, your lack of insight can be
astonishing at times."

"Then what was that little speech? You said you'd hate
to kill someone you loved--what did _that_  mean?"

"He was going to shoot Tain," said Odo from the
doorway, as if this were painfully obvious.

Garak turned to stare at him; for the second time in
52 hours, he fully appreciated the Constable's
perception.

"You would do that for me?" Julian asked.

"Actually, I was planning to shoot the guards first. I'd
hoped that finding himself alone, unarmed, with a
disruptor pointed at him would be enough to convince
Tain to reconsider your execution.  It _would_ have
been painful to kill him, but I would have done it if he'd
made it necessary."  On impulse, he kissed Julian
quickly.  "I did tell you that I would never sacrifice you
for Tain.  Next time, you really will have to trust me."

"Yes, Elim."

"And now-" Another blast rocked the ship.  "We must
get out of here."  He smiled at Julian. "Can you walk?"

The doctor was rubbing the red chafe-marks on his
wrists.  "I'll be all right."  Garak helped him to
his feet.   "Where are we going?"

"The runabout is in Bay 3.  That's two decks down, in
Section 25."

They had just reached the door when Lovok appeared
behind Odo, blocking their way.

*He said he would be observing me very closely,*
Garak thought as he pulled Bashir to him protectively
and raised the disruptor.  *Overzealous, even for a
Romulan, but I should have been expecting this.*

He would have vaporized the colonel on the spot, if
Lovok's first words had not been--"You'll need this in
order to gain access to your runabout," as he tossed
a clearance module to Odo.

None of them had expected that.

Odo looked suspicious.  "Why are you doing this?"

And Lovok replied, "Because no Changeling has ever
harmed another."

"You are one of the Founders," said Garak.  It
explained so much, and--if what Lovok told them
about the Dominion's plans to eliminate all threats
from the Alpha Quadrant were true--it was also an
ominous portend for the future.

But there was little time to stand there and discuss this
disturbing situation.  Once Lovok had beamed away--
presumably to one of the JemHadar vessels--they were
on their way.

At the first junction in the corridor, Garak handed Julian
over to Odo.  "See that Dr. Bashir gets out of here
safely.  I'm going to find Tain."

"Tain-!" Julian began to protest.

"I know it doesn't make sense to you, especially after
I've said I would kill him myself, but I can't just leave
him here to be taken by the JemHadar.  I owe him too
much."

"Elim..."

He pressed his fingertips to Julian's lips.  "I won't be
long."  And he was gone.

Odo growled impatiently.  "Doctor," he asked after a
moment, "can you make it to the runabout by yourself?"

"If you're going after Garak, I'm going with you."

"No," the Constable said firmly.  "I promised him you'd
be safe.  Go to the docking bay and wait for us. I'll bring
him down."  He gave the doctor the clearance module,
and he was gone too.

Promised?

Bashir stood alone in the corridor, indecisive, feeling
that once again the grown-ups had left him out of
something important, until another jolt prompted him to
move.  Instead of trying to follow Garak and Odo, he
went off in the other direction.

His wrists burned and his knees and shoulders ached
as if the bones were rotted, but he made his way to the
docking bay without mishap.  In the commotion of the
JemHadar assault, it was easy to evade the few
personnel who were not at their battle stations.  There
was no guard posted at the bay--probably called away
by more urgent business--and the runabout was
unattended. Bashir opened the hatch and slipped in.

He waited.

A few anxious minutes later, Odo appeared, half-
carrying, half-dragging Garak.  There was no sign of
Tain.

"Let's go," the Constable ordered gruffly as he hauled
Garak into the runabout.  There was a large, purple
bruise on Garak's temple--a hard blow on that spot
could knock a Cardassian cold.

Julian tried to examine the injury.  "That looks painful."

"It is," Garak answered.  He brushed the doctor's
fingers away and took a seat.  "But it saved my life.
Our good constable can be..." with a glance in Odo's
direction, "very persuasive."

As the runabout shot out of the docking bay, Garak
turned to the window for one last look at the Romulan
warbird, beset on all sides by JemHadar fighters.  The
agony that flickered in his eyes, for only a second,
tore at Julian's heart.

Odo, who had seen Garak turn but had not observed
the pain that crossed his face, said, "There wasn't
anything you could have done for him."

"I know."

Bashir wondered what had happened, but he did
not press for details.  He guessed that Tain was
dead, and he was not at all sorry, but he couldn't
think of expressing his relief that that terrible
old man would never be able to manipulate Elim
again, when Elim obviously mourned for him.

He wanted to hate Garak for interrogating Odo (How
_did_ one interrogate a shapeshifter?) but Odo didn't
seem to resent it himself.  He had gone after Garak
rather than allowing him to die or be captured.  He'd
"promised" to see to his safety--Odo probably would
have protected him anyway, but Julian had the distinct
impression that he'd done it because Garak had
asked.  And now, Odo even seemed sympathetic with
Garak's grief at having to leave Tain behind.

One of the JemHadar ships broke away from its
assault on the warbird and came after them.  There
was no time for further reflection.  As the first shots
struck the runabout, they began to work together as a
team: Odo piloted, Bashir kept track of the JemHadar
craft as other ships approached from different
directions, and Garak monitored the shield strength.

"Shields are down to 50%....30%...15%," Garak
reported after each jolting blast.  "Shields are gone,"
he announced with a note of finality.  Then he said,
"Constable, I hope you will accept my sincere
apologies for all this."

"I may not agree with what you did," Odo growled,
"but I can certainly understand your desire to return
home."

Home.  Before he had beamed off the warbird, Lovok
had offered Odo a chance to return to the Founders.
Odo had refused, of course, but his eyes had held
that same look of longing Julian had seen in Elim's
eyes so often.  That homesickness _he_ could never
know, Odo knew.

Whatever had happened in that interrogation chamber
--and Julian knew that neither would ever tell him--it
had created a bond between them.

Julian leaned forward in his seat to place one hand
on Garak's arm.  The tailor turned back to him.

"I'm sorry too, my dear, that I allowed you to come
along on this mission."

"You couldn't have stopped me," Bashir told him.

"You never will do as I ask, will you, Doctor?  Even
when you know I'm right," Garak scolded, but with a
note of affection.  "You _are_ incorrigible."

Julian smiled. "And you wouldn't have me any other
way."

"I would have you safe," Garak answered.  "This...
ending would be much easier to face with composure
if I were alone."  He took Bashir's hand from his arm,
squeezed it gently.

They gazed into each others' eyes, and waited.

Then Odo shouted, "Ship decloaking!"

The Defiant appeared directly in front of them, its
guns blasting as it whisked past, dispatching the
JemHadar ships surrounding them.

Julian could have cheered out loud.  He could have
leapt into Garak's arms--and hugged Odo too for good
measure--but even as his grip tightened on Garak's
hand, he felt that familiar, comforting tingle of a
transport beam engaging.  His companions
shimmered away before his eyes.

The next thing he knew, they were standing on the
platform in the Defiant's transporter room and Chief
O'Brien was telling Sisko over the comm system,
"Commander, we've got them!"

~~~~~
xv

After tending to his own injuries in the Defiant's sickbay,
Julian went to the mess hall. His friends, who had defied
direct orders from Starfleet to come to their rescue,
were around the room; Bashir nodded as O'Brien waved
at him and returned Dax's welcoming smile, but he did
not go over to them.

Garak sat at a table in the corner, by himself, cradling
a mug between his hands and staring at the curls of
steam rising from it.  Outcast already.  It would only
grow worse when everyone leaned what had happened
with Odo.

Seeing him there reminded Julian of the first few times
he had dared approach the mysterious Cardassian:
he'd always found Garak sitting alone in Quark's or the
replimat.  Had he known then, when Garak had invited
him to join him, where this unlikely friendship was
heading?  No, probably not.  He'd been particularly
thick-headed in those early days.

Who would have believed it?  Even now, the relationship
seemed improbable.  His friends must think he'd lost
his mind.  How could he love this man?  This assassin.
This torturer.  Garak was everything Julian ought to
despise as a doctor and a Starfleet officer.

Julian admitted that he didn't always understand
Garak himself.  The tailor's motives were sometimes
puzzling: Garak still lied regularly.  He kept
secrets.  His attitudes toward life and death were
unfathomable.  How could anyone point a disruptor
at his declared beloved mate's face so cavalierly?
He knew better now, but at that moment, Julian
had been completely convinced that he was about
to die  (This wouldn't disturb him quite so much if
Odo hadn't understood exactly what Garak was
doing all along).  How could Garak plan to kill Tain--
whom he loved more than anyone except perhaps
Julian himself--then make one last, foolish effort to
save his life and mourn that he'd failed?

Perplexing, contradictory man!  Who knew why Garak
did anything?  Who knew what he might do next?  No
wonder Julian's friends, who did mean well, wondered
why he stayed in this marriage.

He couldn't explain.

These next few days, after the debriefing sessions,
would be the hardest.  Garak's interrogation of Odo
would vindicate the most dire warnings of everyone
who hated the Cardassian for what he had been. And
even for those who disregarded Garak's bloody past,
it would demonstrate that he hadn't really changed.
Already, Julian knew what they would say: The
Cardassian was dangerous.  Ruthless.  He'd betray
them all if he had the chance.  The doctor braced
himself for the increased hostility he would have to
face around the station because he stood by his
mate.  It was the price he paid for his choice;
after the enormous sacrifices Elim had made for him,
he could put up with the disapproval of his friends and
the animosity of everyone else.

He told himself that if they loved each other, then none
of it mattered.  This didn't make things any easier, but if
these months of marriage had taught Julian one thing,
it was that love was more than a simple pleasure.  It was
a necessity.  He'd left Garak once before over a matter
of principle, but he had come back.  He'd been miserable
without Elim.  He needed him too much. Whatever
they had to renounce for each other, they would,
because nothing else was as important.

He hoped that Garak--no doubt thinking of Cardassia
and all he had lost, again--understood this as well.

Garak looked up, finding him by the doorway, and
Julian stepped forward.  They were back in the
Federation world--his world--now.  It was his turn to
take care of his mate.

"How are you?" Garak asked as Bashir approached
his table.

He held up hands to show that the chafe-marks on his
wrists had been healed.

"And the Constable?"

"There's not much I can do for Odo.  He insists he's
fine.  I sent him to his quarters, where he can have a
little privacy to liquefy and regenerate." Julian sat
down. "You ought to let me do something about that
bruise."

"I'll let you tend to it momentarily."  He tilted the mug
to show Julian it was still half-full of tea, then took a
sip.   "I've been contemplating the unpleasant job I
will have, cleaning up the ruins of my shop."

"You shouldn't have blown it up in the first place.
Garak, what were you thinking?  You might've been
killed!"

"My point was to avoid being killed.  I had to find a
way to draw Constable Odo's attention."

They ignored the others glancing at them, whispering,
trying not to stare.  They were both used to that by
now.

"Couldn't you just ask for help?"

"Asking, dear Julian, is not receiving.  I foresaw too
many awkward conversations, trying to convince our
good Constable that I really was in danger.  And, if
you must know, seeing my shop go up in flames
seemed to be a far more appealing option at the time."

He tossed this out defiantly, as if he expected the
doctor to explode with indignant surprise.  Bashir
realized that Garak was trying to give him a way out,
if he wanted to take it.

Garak was just as uncertain about their
relationship as he was.  Had he been sitting here,
asking himself the same sort of questions?  Did Elim
wonder why a young Starfleet officer with such a
promising future chose to risk everything to stay with
him?  Was he afraid he wouldn't be forgiven for the
things he had done these past few days? Or was
Garak wondering if _he_ was worth the sacrifices
made?  Was he thinking of how ready Julian had been
to believe that he would be killed at Tain's command,
or of that computer console Bashir had been warned
not to tamper with?  Did Elim really wish he were more
deferential to his authority--or was this an issue of
trust?

"It's not so bad, is it?" Julian asked tentatively.
"Living on the station?"

"No," Garak admitted.  "It's not _so_ bad."

"Elim, I'm sorry."  The words came out in a rush.  "I
know I can't make up for everything you've lost.  I
know how hard this has been.  You might have been
able to go home if it hadn't been for me."

"I wouldn't have gone home.  Even if Tain-" Garak
hesitated.  "Even if the offer had been sincere this
time, I would have been killed or captured along with
everyone on that Romulan warbird."  He slid his hand
over Julian's, but did not meet his eyes.  "Besides,
I have recently come to realize that Cardassia is not
where I belong."

Bashir understood what he was trying to say, and he
found himself suddenly light-headed with relief.

Garak sipped his tea and glanced up at his companion
on the other side of the table.

"Once we are safely back at the station, we'll have to
ask Commander Sisko to perform that ceremony you
wanted," the tailor continued after carefully, obliquely,
observing Julian for a minute.  "I've been thinking of
making you a Cardassian wedding tunic for the
occasion.  Velvet.  Gold ribbon braided along the
sleeves with gemstones."  His fingers traced down
his own arm while his eyes ran over Bashir's torso, as
if he imagined the doctor already in the garment. "The
traditional color is crimson, but I think that shade may
be too lurid for you.  What color would you like?"

Julian burst into a smile.  "You're letting me pick my
own clothes?"

"Just this once."  Garak returned his smile.  "I hope
you aren't still determined to perform one of your
Earth rituals?"

"Do you know, I would like one of the old-fashioned
Earth ceremonies.  I've rather got my heart set on it."
Julian tried to sound serious, but his eyes were
dancing and the urge to laugh was nearly irresistible.
He was exhausted, almost giddy after coming so
close to death twice in one day, and simply happy
that they were having this conversation.  No, nothing
else mattered.  "I'll wear your Cardassian tunic, but
_you_  have to wear a traditional human costume."
He did laugh.  "Oh, Elim, don't look so alarmed!
You'll be adorable in a tuxedo."

~~~~~
end


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