TITLE: The Claiming AUTHOR: Kathryn Ramage SUMMARY: When an old Obsidian-Order enemy of Garak's kidnaps and tortures Dr. Bashir, Garak comes to his rescue and performs a mysterious ceremony to ensure the doctor's safety. RATING: R The Claiming (DS9 B/G R) Copyright Kathryn Ramage Written Jan. 1997 Set this story in the 3rd season, a few weeks before the episode "Second Skin." Rated R for violence, nasty suggestions, and m/m situations of both an unpleasant and rather sweet nature Paramount owns Star Trek, DS9, the characters, and large chunks of the galaxy. This story was written simply for personal entertainment and should not be taken as intended copyright infringement or indeed anything but the product of a warped imagination. ~~~~~ i "Bring him down--*now*!" A familiar voice bawled in outrage somewhere from the floor of the vast, dimly-lit room far below him. Though it sounded as if the command came from a place far away, the part of his mind which retained something of his sanity knew that it concerned him. Was he imagining it? For days, he had dreamed of being released from the thousand burning points of pain that killed all lucid thought, being set free, being sent home. No, it couldn't be real. He *must* be hallucinating... And yet, at the words, the antigrav mechanisms which suspended the rack began to whirr. The hot, bright light directly over his head grew less intense as he sank away from it. He was being lowered. Hands gripped his ankles, then slid up his legs as the rack approached the floor. Arms slipped about his waist, supported him while the guards extricated his arms from their bonds. The weight of his body, which had hung free of restraints, no longer pulled down on his chest and tore his shoulders nearly from their sockets; he drew a deep, gasping breath--the first he had been able to draw in an eternity. His arms, freed, dropped numb and nerveless. His legs collapsed beneath him. He would have fallen if the arms about him had not been ready to catch him up and lower him gently. He sprawled on the floor, his protector kneeling beside him. Fingers lifted his chin; the light overhead dazzled his eyes as a gentle, expert touch ran over his jaw, cheekbones, the bridge of his nose, delicately examined the bruise just below his right eye and his swollen lower lip. "What have you done to him?" Not outrage; a clinical question. "Standard preliminary interrogation procedures. You'd know better than I," another voice, nearly as familiar but not so comforting, sneered. "This was no interrogation. He has no information. He's useless to you." "If he weren't, you would not be here." The hands took his aching shoulders, held him slightly back. Thumbs swept over his pectorals. "No implants." The expert, examining touch traveled down his ribs, pressing lightly at each bruised spot. "No broken bones." He was pulled forward again, but the questing fingers did not examine the welts on his back. He heard a soft, angry hiss close to his ear. "He's been beaten." "A disciplinary measure. He put up quite a fight-- surprising for so frail a creature." "He's stronger than he looks." "You are willing to claim him?" "If it will free him, yes." An unpleasant chuckle. "I always suspected you were a sentimental fool." He tried to follow this conversation through the feverish haze that clouded his brain, knowing that his fate was being discussed, but this last exchange was too baffling. He lifted his head slowly and focused on the face of the man who held him. "Garak?" Garak turned his full attention to him, smiling. "Yes, Doctor?" "What're you doing here?" "Rescuing you." He cupped the young man's chin to look directly into his eyes. "There's no time to explain now. It is important that you do *exactly* as I say. No questions. No arguments. I require your complete obedience." His gaze was intense, piercing the clouds that muddled Bashir's mind. His tone was urgent, compelling. "You must trust me to help you. *Please.*" Bashir was far from comprehending, but he trusted that final plea. What other choice did he have? He nodded. "Good boy." ~~~~~ ii The young officer of the Obsidian Order stepped unobtrusively into Legate Parnod's office, stood behind Sisko's chair, and waited silently until he had the Legate's attention. There was a whispered conference; the Legate smiled suddenly at his guest. "Commander, we've found your missing man. He has been released. Officer Lemrec will escort you to him." "Thank you, Legate," Sisko answered in deadpan tones to conceal his surprise and confusion. He'd been arguing for hours without gaining ground. Legate Parnod had not even been prepared to admit that Dr. Bashir was in Obsidian Order custody. In fact, Sisko only had Garak's word that the Obsidian Order had kidnapped the doctor. News of Bashir's disappearance had just reached the station. He'd been notably late in returning from a medical emergency on Bajor. Attempts to contact him were not answered. His runabout was found, floating derelict. No sign of a battle. No sign of a struggle. And no sign of the doctor. There hadn't even been a distress call. The senior staff had just begun their investigation when Garak came up to Ops and politely asked to speak to the Commander in private. Sisko, preoccupied by the emergency, had been about to dismiss him off-hand, when the Cardassian tailor urgently added, "I assure you, Commander, it is important. It's about our missing doctor. The Order has him." They went up to his office. Garak, typically, was evasive in answering his questions: Where had this information come from? Where was the doctor being held? *Why* had he been taken? He brushed them all away, but remained insistent that Sisko help him retrieve Bashir. Sisko didn't know whether or not to believe him, until Garak finally burst out impatiently: "Commander, we don't have time for this! Believe me, I know exactly what they are doing to him. We must find him before it's too late." *That* had the ring of truth. Sisko believed that Garak did know exactly what happened to Obsidian-Order prisoners, and that he was fond enough of Bashir to be genuinely worried for his safety. The explanations would have to wait. Though he'd tried to keep control of the situation, Sisko couldn't help feeling that this was Garak's mission. They'd taken the Defiant to Cardassia Prime at his suggestion. He'd provided security codes to pass sensor checkpoints. Once there, they'd contacted Parnod because Garak claimed he might be inclined to aid them in locating the doctor and securing his release. Sisko had suspected an ulterior motive from the first. These frustrating hours in Parnod's office only confirmed his suspicion that this obfuscating legate was not Garak's true contact. While he was kept distracted here, his companion had disappeared--had left the office just after Lemrec's first appearance. And now Lemrec returned, and Parnod's obstructionist tactics melted away. Sisko could only think Garak had somehow brought about this abrupt turnaround. "Commander Sisko, come with me, please." Lemrec was all politeness. They took the lift down at least twenty floors, then walked along dimly lit corridors for what seemed like kilometers. At last, Lemrec stopped at a door and punched in a pass code. Sisko was prepared for nearly anything except what he found--not a cell, but a huge interrogation chamber, its ceiling and far corners in darkness. A single, bright light was set directly above a metal rack which hovered a few feet above the floor--a rack apparently designed to suspend a prisoner by his outstretched arms. The rack was empty now. Garak knelt in the pool of light below, his tunic collar open. The bare, battered body of the doctor lay cradled in his arms. Garak had been in the middle of an argument with another Cardassian, but both shut up abruptly when Sisko stepped in. Garak grinned up at his opponent with an undisguised expression of triumph. "So sorry to disappoint you, Entek. We really must be going." No surprise that there was a lot more going on here than Sisko ever expected to learn from Garak. And although he was furious at how he had been manipulated to serve the tailor's unspoken purposes, he swallowed his angry questions for the present. His first concern was Bashir. "How is he?" he asked as he approached the Cardassians. Dr. Bashir looked so small and fragile, half-curled in Garak's lap. "He's not damaged irreparably," Garak answered. "I'm no expert on human physiology, Commander, but the doctor's body temperature does seem unusually high." Sisko stepped forward and crouched to place a large hand on the bruised brow. Yes, very hot. "Fever. Delirium," Bashir said in a slurred but clinically detached voice, as if he were reporting on a patient's condition. "10 cc's of hydroxylamine." "He's not quite lucid," Garak added apologetically. "But I think we have to trust his professional judgment. He needs medical attention." Sisko agreed. Entek had stormed out of the chamber; Lemrec, who remained by the doorway, now brought over a shapeless brown garment and offered it silently. Between them, Sisko and Garak managed to get the doctor's arms through the sleeves. As he fastened the front, the commander suddenly found large, dark, fever-glazed eyes fixed up on him. "Commander? You're here too?" "It's going to be all right," he said reassuringly. "We're going to take you home now." He glanced at Lemrec. "Can we transport from here?" The officer nodded. Sisko stooped to help pick Bashir up, but Garak waved him away and slipped his arms beneath the doctor's knees and around his back. With a little effort, he stood. Sisko slapped his commbadge. "Three to beam directly to sickbay." The interrogation chamber dissolved out around them and the Defiant's sickbay materialized. The medic in charge rushed forward as Garak gently set the doctor down on the nearest biobed. When the tailor stepped back to allow the medic to assess Bashir's injuries, the doctor struggled and yelped, "Garak!" "Right here, Doctor." Garak spoke soothingly as he took the outstretched hand, squeezed. "I won't leave you." Bashir relaxed, but even after the medic injected a series of hyposprays--painkillers, sedatives, an anti- inflammatory and a fever reducer (the same hydroxylamine the doctor had recommended)--into his exposed throat, he didn't let go of Garak's hand. The tailor turned to Sisko, who had observed the whole incident with open curiosity. "If you don't mind, Commander, I'll stay with the good doctor for a little while." Sisko did mind. He wanted to find out what the hell was going on but, again, Bashir's well-being took precedence. He nodded consent. ~~~~~ iii When Bashir opened his eyes, Garak was still there. The medic gave him a full report on his own condition: his temperature was down; his injuries had been taken care of; but he had days of recovery ahead, not to mention the psychological after-affects of trauma to cope with. At the moment, however, Bashir wanted nothing more than a shower, some food, and a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. He had only to express the desire, and then smiled to see his friend announce to the medic that the doctor was leaving sickbay. The baffled medic would have stood his ground, if Bashir had not pulled rank and backed up Garak's order. He *was* checking out. He let Garak help him off the biobed and escort him to his quarters. Shower. Hot water pounded the residual aches out of his arms and back and washed away the last physical traces of his captivity. He began to believe the nightmare was over. And he had Garak to thank for that, though the whole matter of his rescue had taken on the blurred and distorted, nonsensical feeling of a fever-dream. If he weren't here right now and safe, he might wonder if the bizarre episode had ever truly happened. Had it actually happened the way he remembered? He was a little shy, uncertain what to say, when he emerged from the bathroom in damp curls and a fuzzy robe, looking far less pale and fragile. Garak stood in the center of the room, waiting; once the doctor returned, he stepped to the replicator and ordered, "Tarkelian tea, hot, double sweet." The request seemed strange--Julian knew his friend thought the drink bland and insipid--until Garak picked up the steaming cup and offered it to him. "Drink, Doctor. After such an ordeal, you need its bracing effects." For him--of course. He smiled as he sipped and sat down on the edge of the lower bunk. After considering his friend for a moment, he pressed his hand to his own chest. ******************************************************** "Good boy." Garak reached for the fastenings at his tunic collar and pulled open the throat flap. He took the doctor's hand--just beginning to tingle with reawakened nerves--and placed the palm against the exposed silvery scales. The skin was cool to the touch. The slower-than-human heartbeat pounded beneath his hand as if it would throw off his own pulse. ******************************************************** "What was that we did?" he asked. "`Thy heart in my hand...'" The door chimed and Julian sank back onto the bed and drew up his legs while Garak went to answer it. Sisko pushed past the Cardassian. "Where is he?" Garak gestured to the doctor curled on the bunk, sipping his tea. Sisko looked relieved. "I heard that you checked yourself out of the sickbay." His tone implied he did not approve this decision. "Yes, Sir," Bashir answered, undaunted. "I was feeling better and I wanted to rest in some privacy. I thought I had a better chance of that in my quarters. Garak was kind enough to escort me." He smiled slightly, but Sisko continued to glare at the tailor as if he were up to something; the doctor couldn't help wondering what his commander had expected to find when he'd come charging in here. "I promised Simmons I'd call if I needed anything," he added in more conciliatory tones. "If you'll excuse me..." Garak was stepping back toward the door. "You're going?" Bashir sounded nearly as anxious as he had in sickbay. "You need your rest, Doctor. I'm certain you'll be all right." "I'll be fine," the doctor answered. "Garak? Thank you." He looked up suddenly to meet the tailor's eyes--his own were dewy and luminous. Garak seemed taken aback by the intensity of emotion, and only nodded before he exited. Once the tailor had gone, Sisko--even more stunned--turned to Bashir. "I don't want to tire you, Doctor. You can give me a full report when you feel up to it. But there are a couple of questions--I'd like short answers if you have them. First, do you know why you were abducted? And, second, can you tell me what Garak did to get you released?" "Why did the Obsidian Order abduct me?" Bashir sipped his tea thoughtfully. "I'm not certain. They didn't seem to want classified information--as if I had any. If you ask, sir, I think it was personal. The man who interrogated me, Entek, wanted revenge." "Revenge?" Sisko was intrigued. "He wanted to hurt...someone else by hurting me." Sisko's expression darkened like a stormcloud. "You mean Garak." Bashir ducked his head. "It's just an impression of mine." "And what about Garak? What did he do?" The doctor shook his head. "I was barely conscious when Garak ordered the guard to let me down. The whole thing seems like a dream. Very strange. There was a ceremony..." ******************************************************** "`Thy heart in my hand...'" ******************************************************** "What sort of ceremony?" "Entek called it the Claiming." ******************************************************** "`Thy soul for my own..." ******************************************************** "Garak recited some words and made me repeat them." He shook his head. "I'm sorry, sir. I can tell you what we *did,* but I can't really say why it was important." ~~~ "There's always been *something* going on in that relationship," Dax said when Sisko tried to explain his suspicions to her. "More than we understand. Probably more than *they* understand. It wouldn't be surprising if some concealed feelings emerged during a moment of crisis. Are you certain that what you saw wasn't just Julian's gratitude toward a friend who saved him from a threatening situation?" Sisko shook his head. "You didn't see the way Julian looked at him. This wasn't just gratitude. He's in love--or he thinks he is. What I want to know is what did Garak do to him? What happened in that interrogation room?" Dax frowned slightly. "Wait a minute, Benjamin. Regardless of what strings Garak pulled among his old Obsidian-Order contacts to have Julian released, or what he said or did to gain Julian's affection, you can't tell Julian his feelings aren't valid because *you* don't trust Garak." "If he's manipulating one of my officers-" "It doesn't matter. If Julian really does feel as strongly about Garak as you believe, then he won't appreciate anything you try to do to protect him. You won't separate him from Garak, but you could easily alienate him from *you.* The best we can do is keep an eye on the situation and wait it out." ~~~~~ iv A few days later, once they were back at the station and Dr Bashir had recovered from his physical injuries, he met privately with Sisko in the commander's wardroom to give his report. He described his abduction and torture unemotionally, as if he were telling a story which had nothing to do with himself. "I had just left Bajor," he began, "when an unidentified vessel came out from behind the fourth moon. No, sir, I didn't have time to raise the shields. I had just hailed them, when two Cardassian guards beamed over and stunned me. It happened so fast. I must have been sedated or kept in stasis--the next thing I knew, I was hung up in restraints in a cell. They told me I was a prisoner of the Obsidian Order." "Did they tell you why they had taken you?" "They never did. Entek didn't seem interested in any information I might have. He never charged me with a crime." The doctor seemed slightly embarrassed. "He accused me of..." he tried to think of a delicate way to phrase the insinuation. ******************************************************** Entek pushed the truncheon up under his chin, lifted his jaw to rake a critical gaze over his face in the harsh light. "I've heard that by human standards, you are considered a beauty." The inquisitor stepped back, and let the tip of the cold, metal rod slide slowly down his bare chest. Eyes followed. "You *do* have a certain, exotic charm." Bashir held his breath as Entek wandered around behind him, and tried not to panic. He knew that sexual assault was often an element in torture and he always thought that if he ever found himself in such a situation, he'd be strong enough to endure. But, now that it was no longer an intellectual exercise and had become a very real and immediate threat, he was terrified. Manacled and helpless, he couldn't even put up a fight. "And you use it, don't you?" Entek continued from behind him. "That charm. Oh, I'm aware of the tricks and temptations of a Federation catamite." The truncheon tapped lightly between his shoulder blades, and traveled down the ridge of his spine, to pause at the small of his back. "You promise any number of delights to mislead fools, but I'm sure you're also very accommodating in exchange." The tip of the truncheon jabbed suddenly into the hollow at the base of his spine, bringing him up onto his toes with a gasp. ******************************************************** "...promiscuity." "That's not a crime, even on Cardassia." "He threatened me with sexual abuse, suggested I'd enjoy it." ******************************************************** "Shall I let my guards amuse themselves with you for awhile? They're quite eager, you know. They've never had a human subject before. Would you welcome the opportunity to expand your experience of Cardassians ...hm?" ******************************************************** "He kept telling me he'd hand me over to the guards. Once, he described an interrogation procedure in great detail. They attach agonizer clips--Entek showed me exactly where they went." He shuddered at the memory. "Were you raped, Doctor?" Sisko asked carefully. "No, sir. That is--not exactly. As I've said, he threatened me. Touched me. He did try to rape me once..." ******************************************************** "I have an offer for you, human," Entek said cheerfully as he entered the cell. He smiled at his prisoner shivering in the corner. "A soft bed, the finest clothes, food. Stimulating intellectual conversation--I understand you enjoy a good debate over a meal. I can install you in my home this afternoon." "You want a plaything." "I offer you a life of safety and luxury. Can Garak give you that?" "Garak?" Bashir lifted his head, baffled. "What does *he* have to do with this?" Entek struck him across the mouth. ******************************************************** "It was the first time he mentioned Garak's name," said Bashir. "That's when I began to think..." Sisko nodded. ******************************************************** He lay face down on the concrete floor, arms wrenched up, pinned against his back, while Entek forced his knees apart. He twisted and struggled, shrieked "Don't! Please, don't!" until a sharp cuff on the temple left him dazed. When Entek slipped one finger into him, his muscles clenched reflexively against the invasion. "Relax," the inquisitor sounded more amused than angry. "I'm sure you know how." "No," he whispered. "What lie is this?" Entek chuckled. "Are you trying to convince me you've never opened yourself to a man before?" "No one." "Surely Garak must have-" "Garak's never done this to me." He sobbed at the rough examination that followed, barely hearing the electronic whirr of the Cardassian version of a tricorder. After a moment, Entek demanded, surprised and suspicious: "Then what does he *do* with you?" As if the other possibilities thoroughly disgusted him. "He's never touched me." ******************************************************** "Doctor?" Sisko began tentatively. "I know it's none of my business, but of course I'm concerned for your well-being. *Are* you and Mr. Garak- ah- involved?" "No, sir." Bashir didn't lie well. It was obvious from his sudden blush that he was concealing something--but if he said that he was not involved with Garak, then Sisko believed him. "It mattered to him," the doctor continued, "that I wasn't Garak's-" he paused, then quoted, "`Federation catamite.' He had no reason to stop, no reason to be considerate of my- er- inexperience. I think he only wanted to violate me because he wanted to have revenge on an old enemy--to take something he thought belonged to Garak. When he found out I wasn't, it spoiled his fun." "He left you alone." "He left me lying there. I wasn't restrained. I tried to escape, but didn't get very far." He sighed. "When the guards found me, they took me to the interrogation chamber and beat me `til I lost consciousness. Then Entek asked me questions about Garak, about our relationship. I didn't hold up very well, I'm afraid. I told him the truth. "After that, Entek didn't seem to have any further use for me. You see, up to this point I hadn't been tortured. Slapped, bruised a little, roughed up, but I knew they could do much worse if they wanted to. The beating proved that. I think Entek had given orders that I wasn't to be badly damaged. Then, after they brought me to the interrogation room, he didn't care what they did. He ordered me strapped up into the suspension rack and left me hanging--it seemed like days. I expected to die hanging there. "I'm afraid I can't remember what happened very clearly after that. The next thing I was aware of was Garak telling the guards to bring me down." He smiled faintly. "I find this puzzling," said Sisko. "Entek was ready to hand you over to Garak? If you're right, I would think he would have killed you before negotiating your release with someone he hated so much. Do you think it's possible that Entek abducted you in order to lure Garak to Cardassia?" "I don't know, sir. It's possible." "Did you overhear any part of their conversation--the terms they came to--to explain why Entek was suddenly willing to let you go?" "Nothing that makes sense. That ceremony I mentioned? It was Entek's idea. He insisted Garak perform it with me." "The Claiming?" Sisko sat forward, interested. He had looked through the station's scant remaining databases on Cardassian customs, but had found no mention of this particular ritual. "Can you tell me more about that?" "I've been going over the details of it in my mind," Bashir answered. "I can repeat the words." A hesitation. "Do you want me to?" Sisko's hand hovered over the recorder's on/off button. At the moment, gaining Bashir's confidence seemed far more important to him than a completely intact report. If it annoyed his superiors at Starfleet, he didn't care. "Off the record, Doctor?" Bashir appreciated the gesture. "No, it's all right, sir." "Then go ahead." ******************************************************** "Good boy." Garak reached for the fastenings at his tunic collar and pulled open the throat flap. He took the doctor's hand--just beginning to tingle with reawakened nerves--and placed the palm against the exposed silvery scales. He pressed his own hand to the doctor's bare breastbone. The touch was cold to Bashir's feverish skin; he began to shiver. Garak smiled into his baffled eyes. "Listen carefully, Doctor. Remember the words." He recited: "`Thy heart in my hand, Thy soul for my own. I seize all that thou art: Thy will, thy flesh, mine alone. I claim thee, TeHua Julian Subatoi Bashir." And then: "Repeat it back to me, Doctor. The same vow--with a few differences." "`Thy heart in my hand, Thy soul for my own,'" Julian repeated hesitantly. "I give all that I am," Garak prompted, altering the next line. "I give all that I am." "My will, my flesh, thine alone." "My will, my flesh, thine alone. I claim thee...?" "TeHua..." "TeHua- Garak?" "Elim Garak." Julian repeated his full name. Garak nodded approval. "Very good, Doctor." The hand on his chest lifted, moved upward. Fingers caressed his jaw, then slid around to the nape of his neck and drew him close again. He kissed him. ******************************************************** "He kissed you?" Bashir nodded. "It was part of the ritual." ******************************************************** He responded. He felt Garak's surprise--the slight recoil before the arms tightened about his trembling body, drew him upright onto his knees. The gentle, chaste pressure of the ceremonial kiss deepened, grew more intense. Julian melted into the embrace, seeking the warmth and comfort of the arms about him, the power of the body pressed against his. He kissed back, hungrily, as if he could draw these elements of security from the tailor by clinging to his mouth. He tried to grip the cloth of Garak's tunic with his numbed fingers, clinging to him as if he would never let go until Garak's hand, traveling down his flank, accidentally brushed one of the nastier welts; he flinched, whimpering, and Garak released him. ******************************************************** "A fascinating ceremony," said Sisko. "I wonder why Entek insisted on it." "I have no idea, sir. But he demanded Garak perform it exactly." ******************************************************** "Charming," the despised voice of the inquisitor sneered behind him as he nestled against Garak, pressed his bruised, feverish lips to the soothingly cool scales at the base of the tailor's throat. "I don't know what astonishes me more about humans--their resiliency or their- ah- sensitivity. It makes them diverting subjects. It should be interesting to see the completion of your claiming." "You're going to insist on that?" "We wouldn't want any irregularities to spoil your right to possess your TeHua, now would we?" ******************************************************** "I might have misunderstood--I wasn't coherent. Entek still wanted to hurt me--to have Garak hurt me. And Garak refused." ******************************************************** "I won't do it," Garak answered. Julian felt the tailor's arms tighten about him again, this time protectively. "You will, if you expect to take him out of here. It's that simple, Garak. Once you have completed the rite according to the old tradition--no imported symbolism-- then he is yours. Untouchable." Entek chuckled as he spoke the last word. "You can both go back to that space station of galactic rejects. However, if you refuse, then your claim is invalid. I refuse to recognize it. The human remains in my custody and you can console yourself by imagining how I entertain myself with him." Garak cursed at him in Cardassian. Entek laughed at the untranslatable obscenity. "No, not yet. He hasn't been violated. You'd be the first--I have the doctor's own irreproachable word for *that.* Do you deny you want to take him?" "Not like this--in an interrogation cell with a half-dozen guards looking on! Can't we have a little privacy?" "No. I wish to see your bond consummated." "You want to see me hurt him." "Mhm...yes. But the young man doesn't appear unresponsive." "He doesn't know what he's doing." "Then he won't mind anything you do to him." ******************************************************** "Has Garak explained any of this to you?" Bashir shook his head. "I haven't seen much of him since we got back. He drops by my quarters to see how I'm recovering, but doesn't stay to talk. He won't talk about *this.* I think he's embarrassed by it." ~~~~~ v He hadn't lied to Commander Sisko; he hadn't been completely honest either. He wasn't involved with Garak--but that didn't mean he didn't want to be. How could he explain his feelings? He barely understood them himself--they were too strange and unexpected, but he couldn't deny the emotions that had awakened in that interrogation cell during that inexplicable ceremony. It would be impossible to describe the sensual quality of the Claiming: Garak's heartbeat thundering under his hand; that cool, smooth touch that seemed to pierce through to his own heart; the comforting warmth of the tailor's arms about him; the intensity of those blue eyes gazing into his as the words that bonded them to each other were spoken; the words of bonding. The weight of them had not entirely left him. He could never make his commander understand how safe he had felt during those moments--nor how much he desired that same sense of safety now. He couldn't tell Sisko how he wanted to be held, how often he thought of that kiss that had been so much more than ceremonial. No, he could never tell Sisko *that.* And he couldn't reveal how insecure he felt since they had returned home and Garak seemed to keep him at a distance. If Garak *had* claimed him, he made no attempt to pursue his claim. When Julian saw him, he was the same old Garak--elusive, playful, mysterious, perhaps a little more solicitous during these days of recovery but always carefully remote. He deflected every one of Bashir's questions about the Claiming, as if he'd prefer to forget it had ever happened. Julian, of course, could not let him get away with that. "I told Commander Sisko what happened to me on Cardassia Prime today," he told his friend when Garak visited that afternoon. He'd asked the tailor in, insisted he remain long enough to have a drink; Garak consented, although he looked somewhat uncomfortable as he sat on the sofa and listened to Julian talk about his day. "That is, I told him everything I *could* tell him. It wasn't very much, since I haven't the faintest idea what actually did happen." "The actions of the Obsidian Order are often a mystery to outsiders," Garak answered. A guarded look already shadowed his face. "This entire episode must seem perfectly unfathomable to you." "But it's perfectly clear to you, isn't it?" "Doctor," evasively, "contrary to rumor, I was not a member of the Order." Bashir let this go for the moment. He had a more important issue to pursue. "You know people who are. Entek, for example." "We are acquainted," Garak admitted. "In fact, we were once friends, but that was a long time ago." "He hates you," said Julian, "even more than Dukat does. It's why he kidnapped me, isn't it? He wanted to get back at you." Garak smiled, appreciating his perception, but the tailor only answered: "I'm sorry that you should come to harm because of our friendship." He actually sounded sincere. "I can't tell you how distressed I was when I heard you'd been captured by one of *my*...old friends. It will not happen again." "You can promise that?" "Oh, Entek might be difficult, but if he threatens you again, I will kill him. I may kill him at any rate, just to be safe." He spoke lightly, almost cheerfully, but Bashir heard a chilling tone of real menace underneath. He would do it. Normally, the doctor would have been horrified to hear this casual contemplation of murder, but right now he found it gratifying to know the lengths Garak would go to to ensure his protection. He *would* never be threatened by the Obsidian Order again; Julian believed it. "I'm very grateful that you came and got me," he ventured. "Though I wish you would tell me what it was that you *did.*" "You were there." "But I don't know why Entek agreed to let me go after that ceremony, or how it protects me. It don't understand what significance it has for us." "It's nothing you need to concern yourself about." "We *claimed* each other--whatever *that* means. You can't tell me it isn't important." "Believe me, Doctor, it was necessary to secure your release, but it means nothing. I have no intention of holding you to vows taken under such extreme circumstances. Forget about it." "I can't forget it!" Julian protested. He felt as if he were flinging himself against an impenetrable barrier; Garak would never admit that that moment of intimacy they had shared was *real,* and not just a fever-induced delusion. "Can you? Garak, do you really expect me to believe that what happened between us meant nothing at all to you? Damn it, I *heard* the way you spoke those words--you meant them. I meant them too. And when we kissed..." "You were delirious," Garak told him. "You couldn't know what you were doing." Bashir stopped abruptly. "You- you think I don't mean this?" Up until this moment, he had assumed Garak refused to answer his questions in order to preserve his own secrets. It hadn't occurred to him that the tailor was being so infuriatingly distant to avoid taking advantage of *his* vulnerability. "I think you're still a little confused. An Obsidian Order interrogation can be an extremely disturbing experience--or so I've been informed. Subjects far more hardy than yourself have curled up in shock for months after a skilled inquisitor--such as Entek--has questioned them. It's to your credit, my dear doctor, that you've recovered as swiftly as you have, but it's really not surprising if you mistake your insecurity for...something else." Bashir couldn't be angry with him. In fact, he was deeply touched. His friend was still trying to protect him. And perhaps Garak was right: these desires were born out of his need to feel safe again after enduring a series of unspeakable traumas and it was only natural that he should turn to the man who had brought him to safety in the first place--but it had become more than that. Julian had to make him see that he didn't need to be protected from *this.* "Maybe I was delirious," he said softly. "But I'm not now. I know what I feel for you--it's not just insecurity or gratitude or whatever you think, and I don't care how it began! I want to be with you. I need to know if you really want me too, or if you just told Entek you did..." He trailed off hopelessly, feeling that he was only making a fool of himself, when Garak rose suddenly from his seat, eyes alight with new interest. "Doctor," He stepped close and reached up to slip his fingers around to the nape of Bashir's neck--the same gesture he had made in prelude to their first kiss. He gazed deeply into the dark eyes, searching. The doctor's heart began to beat violently and he went dizzy with anticipation. But Garak didn't move to kiss him. What is he waiting for? Bashir thought impatiently, then realized that Garak was waiting for him to make the first move. He kissed him. Once again, his intensity caught the tailor by surprise; then Garak caught him up in a hug that nearly lifted him off his feet and squeezed the breath out of him. The tailor laughed. "Doctor, you are a constant source of amazement to me." Arms still circling his waist, Garak led him in a sort of waltz step around the corner of the glass table to bring them to the sofa. He tugged on the back of Julian's knee, urging him up into his lap. Between kisses, he began to explain: "My dearest, lovely, astonishing boy. You surprised us all. It was meant to be...a joke--a cruel joke." "On me?" "Oh, no. On me. Entek thought it would be...amusing. To allow me to claim you--knowing I could never have you. No one expected you to be so-" he pulled the young man down for a kiss that left him breathless. "So responsive." Julian sighed and rested against his chest, thoroughly happy. This was just what he craved: The strength of the arms around him. The slower-than-human heartbeat thundering against his own heart. The comforting warmth. He'd never felt so safe. He lifted his head and pressed his palm over Garak's heart. "`Thy heart in my hand, thy soul for my own.' Will you tell me about that now?" he requested. "I'm not being nosy--I just want to understand. It's important to me. I am supposed to be your property or something?" Garak chuckled. "Oh, my dear, no." The doctor sat up, curious. "Then what?" And Garak told him about the Claiming. Julian nearly fell off his lap. ~~~~~ vi Some weeks later, Sisko stopped by the infirmary early one morning and found them together in the doctor's office. Bashir stepped back quickly once he was aware of the commander's presense. "Uh- Sir-" blushing. Garak retained his composure. "Good morning, Commander." He turned back to Bashir. "I'll see you at lunch." And he caught the doctor about the waist and pulled him close for a final kiss--as much to flaunt their relationship before Sisko as anything else. And Julian was aware of it. The corner of his mouth turned down slightly in annoyance as he watched the Cardassian tailor depart--but his expression quickly softened into a wistful, somewhat goofy smile and his eyes were radiant. Then he remembered that Sisko was still there and he turned to address his commander with self-conscious embarrassment. "Sir, I w-wasn't lying. When I told you Garak and I weren't involved, we *weren't*-" Sisko held up a hand to stop him and tried to put him at ease. "Doctor, your personal life is none of my business. I may not understand your choice of lover, but-" "He's not my lover," Bashir answered quickly, apprehensively. "He's my husband." "*Husband?*" Sisko boomed in astonishment. "That ceremony..." ******************************************************** "Marriage ritual!" Bashir nearly tumbled off Garak's lap, but the tailor quickly grabbed his arms. He set one foot on the floor to keep his balance. "You mean we're married?" "The ancient ceremony of Claiming is still quite legal under Cardassian law, although the Federation may not acknowledge it. It can be dissolved easily," Garak added. "If you find someone else you want to marry, I won't stand in your way. But it is to your advantage if we remain together for the present. The Obsidian Order has its unspoken codes--don't ask, please. I can only assure you that as long as they recognize the bond between us, they won't touch you. Anyone who tries will face...consequences. I still have friends." The doctor's head was spinning at this incredible information. "What about Entek?" he asked. "I mean, why-?" Garak smiled. "It was suggested to him--not by me, I must add--that he couldn't kidnap and kill a Starfleet officer without severe repercussions, and that it would be deliciously cruel," his fingers caressed the lower edge of the doctor's ribcage, tickling, "to give you to me when you were indifferent." Julian laughed. "And so you claimed me." He felt extremely strange, discussing this while perched on Garak's knees. "I saw it as an opportunity to rescue you and I took it. If it ensured that you would never be placed in danger again, then so much to the better. I didn't want you to know--I never wanted you to feel uncomfortable...or under any obligation. But your infuriating curiosity..." affectionately. "I had no expectations that I would ever truly call you-" he reached up, fingertips brushing the doctor's lips. "*TeHua.*" There was a softness to his tone as he spoke this word. "What does that mean?" "TeHua? It's an endearment, used for one who is pledged to you. `My heart.' `My love.'" He paused, straining for a better translation. "Beloved." Julian's eyes misted. "TeHua," he whispered, and slipped back into Garak's arms. "No one expected you to feel this way. It's most delightful of you, but it nearly ruined everything. Entek only agreed to let you go because he didn't think you cared for me." "That's why he wanted you to rape me, isn't it? He wanted to put something horrible between us, when he saw that we might be happy together. He couldn't bear to let us out of that room until he was certain he could tear us apart." "No doubt that was his intention," the tailor answered. "But you must also realize that the modern version of the bonding rite is somewhat different from the ancient ceremony. The kiss, for example, is an imported custom. According to the strict form of the ancient rite, the Claiming was not considered a true marriage until there was..." his voice was purring, "consummation." It was a question. ******************************************************** "He said I didn't have to consider a true bond, but I *felt* bonded. I wanted to make a real commitment." Bashir hesitated, abashed and defiant at once. "Commander, what are you going to do?" What could he do? He was certain that Dr. Bashir was still recovering from the trauma of his kidnapping and torture and was vulnerable to whatever false security Garak offered--and he was just as certain that Julian wouldn't believe him if he said so. How could he stop his doctor from making a terrible mistake? And even if it were in his power to dissolve the marriage, did he have any right to do so? The light in the doctor's eyes was not lost on him. Even when he hadn't known the reason, Sisko had noticed how happy his doctor had been these past few weeks. More comfortable than anyone who had been recently tortured by Cardassians ought to be. If being with Garak had done this for him, could it really be so bad as he imagined? *Who are you to tell him his feelings aren't valid?* ~~~~~ At lunchtime, Garak waited for Bashir at the replimat. In spite of his bravado, the Cardassian was truly anxious; he knew that Sisko didn't approve of him and he held no illusions about what the commander was capable of doing if he really wanted to separate them. He could be kicked off the station. Julian could be transferred. There were a dozen creative and manipulative ways Sisko could ensure that this relationship did not survive--and just when he was most desperate to keep it. "I told Commander Sisko," Bashir said simply as he took a seat. "He knows all about the Claiming now." Garak waited for him to go on. "Well?" he asked after a moment. "What did he say?" "He wants to know if we're going to apply for married- persons' quarters. There's a suite available on Level 23." Garak laughed. THE END