An Emotional State - Introduction

This is the third chapter in the storyline I began with 
"The Claiming," and continued in "For You."  It'll help 
if you've read these stories, but this shouldn't be 
incomprehensible if you've missed them.

Place this story in the third season, about six months
after the aforementioned "For You," and a week
before the episode "Distant Voices."

WARNING: There is sex in this one.  If I tell you
exactly where, it'll spoil the suspense, so please be
aware of it before you proceed.

One more thing:  I'd also like to thank Terrie Drummond
for reading the final draft of this (and "For You" as well)
and talking them over with me.

Kit

~~~~~
An Emotional State  (DS9, G/B NC-17)
Copyright June 1997
Revised Sept. 1997
Kathryn Ramage

Paramount owns Star Trek, DS9, the characters, and
large chunks of the galaxy.  This story was written
for personal amusement and should not be taken 
as intended copyright infringement or indeed 
anything but the product of a slightly bored mind 
seeking its own entertainment.
  
~~~~~
i

It had been doomed from the start.  They had nothing 
in common beyond purely intellectual pursuits and a 
certain physical attraction.

*That might make him a charming lunch companion 
and a delightful bed-partner,* thought Garak, *but 
hardly a suitable person to spend the rest of my life 
with.*

He had obviously chosen the wrong mate.  It would 
never have worked--not with someone like _that_!  
Eternally inquisitive. Socially inept.  Scrupulously 
honest. Gullible.  So innocent that he can look into 
the face of evil and never recognize it for what it is.  
How long could he expect to endure living with a man 
who sanctimoniously spouted politically naive 
Federation rubbish--and, most annoying of all, believed 
every word of it?  How long before he grew thoroughly 
sick of Julian Bashir?  Astonishing that the marriage 
had lasted eight months.

Well, it was time to admit he had made a mistake 
and move on.

*Let him go.  He let _you_ go without a second thought.*

He had been quite civilized about it.  There had been 
no argument, no melodramatic scene, no word of 
reproach.  Just over a week ago, Julian had 
announced that he wanted out, and Garak had 
consented. 

Julian had moved back into his old quarters that 
same afternoon.  Garak remained in the larger 
apartment.  In hopes that the doctor would return?  
Because it was a place where he had been happy?  
Because the sense of Julian's presence remained 
around him there? Garak dismissed these reasons as 
sentimental nonsense.  The quarters were simply 
much nicer than his old rooms and he hated to give 
them up.  If they wanted him to leave, they would 
have to kick him out.

"May I join you?"

Julian, standing over his table at the replimat, smiling
hopefully.

Garak glared up at him.

*Do you think we can carry on as if we were no more
than friends?*

But lunch with Julian as if they were no more than 
friends was better than nothing.  He gestured to the 
opposite chair to invite the doctor to sit down.

"You're looking well, my dear," he began with artificial 
cheer as Julian took a seat.  "What brings you to this 
end of the Promenade?"

"I saw you here--we've seen so little of each other lately."

"That was your decision."

"I hoped we could talk."

"Of course," with a smile as forced as his words.  
"I would not deprive myself of our conversations." 

His eyes swept over the face of the young man
seated before him.  Had Julian ever looked more 
lovely?  Or was it simply that he had only seen his
beloved doctor from a distance this past week?  
Perhaps he only appreciated that beauty more fully 
now that it was withheld from him.

He still thought of this fragile-looking creature with 
the large, soft eyes of a herd-beast as _his_.  He had
once possessed him; he wanted to reach across the
table, snatch Julian up, and shake him hard until he 
realized that he belonged to him still.  Since his mate 
had left, he had conceived a dozen elaborate strategies 
to win Julian back, but he knew that whatever schemes 
he tried would ultimately fail unless Julian wanted to 
stay with him.  Obviously, if he did, he would never 
have left.

It was useless.

"It's my birthday next week," Julian announced.  "Dax 
wants to throw a party," he made a face at the thought.  
"She means well, but I'd rather not have a big 
celebration--not this year.  I'd like us to have dinner 
together, if that's all right with you."

"Is this an offer of reconciliation?"

Bashir shook his head.  "You know why I can't do that.
There are just too many problems-"

Garak held up a hand to stop him.  "Yes, I remember
quite well what you said."   He would rather not hear
those apologetic excuses again.

How silly, to hope that these little overtures of 
friendship meant that Julian wanted to return to him!
No, the dear doctor was just trying to be kind.  He 
didn't like unpleasantness.  He had to be on amiable 
terms with everyone--even the lover he had thrown
off.

"If you'd rather not, I understand," said Julian.  

"It would be my pleasure to have dinner with you 
on your birthday," Garak assured him.  "I'll even bring 
you a present."

Julian beamed at him.  

The Cardassian tailor felt a flash of disgust for 
the shallowness of humans.  Nothing seemed to 
touch them very deeply.  They recovered from major
losses so swiftly that Garak could only think the thing 
lost had never meant very much in the first place.

*_Vulcans_ possess more true passion,* he thought 
with scorn.  *Humans brush off everything.  Planetary 
disaster. Personal betrayal.  War.  Death.  Lost love.  
They toss it all aside without a backward glance,  
and they call this vapid condition emotionally healthy!*

No, there were _some_ humans in whom the passions 
ran deep.  Commander Sisko, for example.  Marriage 
to Julian had brought him into closer acquaintance 
with the station's commander; they never really liked 
each other, but they had worked together on 
occasion as allies.  _That_ human was capable 
of murderous rage, chilling hatred, consuming 
obsession--all of which, Garak could respect. Other 
humans, he supposed, were just as capable of 
intense emotions-

But not his sweet and gentle Julian.

Julian had never loved him as deeply as he had loved
Julian.  It was a painful truth, especially for a man 
such as himself who dodged inequivocable reality on 
a daily basis, but it was a truth he could not avoid. 

*Did I frighten you, beloved?* he thought  *My intensity?  
My capacity for emotions you can never experience?  
If you knew how I could have loved you, the heights I 
could have taken you to--or would you have been 
frightened by that as well?*

*To know that kind of joy, one must also be able to 
experience great sorrow.  And I would not see you 
suffer more than you already have, my precious one.  
I would not tear you to pieces, as you have shredded
me.  Perhaps it is better that you remain at peace, 
ignorant, and undisturbed.*

"I'm sorry, Garak." Julian leaned on the table and
lowered his voice.  "If we could have just been with 
each other, things might have turned out differently, 
but there was so much more attached to our relation-
ship.  The insults we both had to put up with.  Starfleet 
looking at me as if I were a traitor.  The Bajorans 
hating me.  My friends just barely tolerating you for my 
sake.  No one would ever really accept us. I thought I 
was strong enough to bear the weight of all that, but 
I'm not.  It's too much."

*I have been patient with you, and far more gentle than
I would be with anyone else.  I thought you were worth
the effort.  I have done everything just as you desired.  
I agreed to a marriage in name to secure your 
safety.  I would not have held you to it, beloved, if you 
hadn't convinced me that you were ready to receive 
my love.*  

"I know I've hurt you terribly," the doctor went on.  "I 
know you're angry with me.  I don't blame you.  I tried,
Garak.  Really, I did.  But it just didn't work out."

*_You_ wanted us this way.  Mated.  And I 
consented--seized upon the opportunity--in spite of all 
my misgivings.  Oh, I knew from the first that it was a 
foolish venture.  There was always the danger that you 
might fall out of love as easily as you fell into it.  But 
there have been only two things I ever wanted more 
than you: my father's approval and the opportunity to 
be restored to my home.  Those things are 
impossible--but there you were, avowing your newly 
awakened feelings for me, pleading with me to 
confess that I cared as well. What fool refuses the 
chance to have what he desires most? I could not 
resist that offer in your eyes.*

*And then you tell me you don't think this is going to 
work out?*

"It's much better for both of us this way.  It won't hurt 
so much after awhile. We can get back to our own 
lives.  There's no reason why we can't get on just as 
we used to, before.   I'd like us to be friends."

Friends?

For months, as he grew to rely more and more on the
young doctor's company, he told himself he was
merely fond of the boy.  He enjoyed their conversations
over lunch.  He found Julian's naivete charming and
amusing.  The doctor's companionship made his exile
a little more bearable.  He was attracted to that exotic,
alien beauty and he indulged in the occasional fantasy.
And after Julian had worked so hard to save his 
miserable life, he confessed to a certain amount of 
gratitude.

He had never let himself admit that there was more 
to it until Julian had been kidnapped by one of his 
former associates in the Obsidian Order and he was 
forced to recognize the lengths he would go to for the 
sake of one insignificant human.  If Sisko had not
conveyed him to Cardassia in the Defiant, he would 
have stolen a runabout.  He had immediately agreed 
to Entek's remarkable terms to secure Bashir's release. 
When he saw how brutally the doctor had been treated, 
he'd hated Entek for it; he would have killed his former 
colleague right then if he'd been able to.  These were the 
responses of a man desperately in love.  Certainly, it 
had been impossible to deny his feelings once he'd 
held Julian in his arms, kissed him--or, to be more 
precise, once Julian kissed back.

After that, he had only hoped to conceal his love from 
its object.  One more secret; he had so many.  He 
would never have whispered a hint of it, if Julian had 
not flung himself at him.

*Do you think I lie when I tell you I love you?  Have I 
not provided enough proof of it?  I have protected you 
from dangers you have been blissfully unaware of.  I 
have played a dozen roles to keep you intrigued.  
You wanted a husband--I assumed that part for you.  
I have tried to be exactly the man you wanted me to 
be.  I have trusted you with more of myself than I 
have ever trusted anyone since I was too young to 
know to be wary.  I have exceeded the boundaries of 
my exile, under threat of death, for your sake.  I 
destroyed my last hope of ever being restored to 
Cardassia by openly allying myself with you.  I've 
subjected myself to threats and indignities when I 
might live peacefully alone.  I have loved you more 
than you can understand--perhaps more than you 
deserve.*

"I do care about you, Garak.  Very much.  I don't want 
you to be unhappy because of me."

*I have _killed_ for you.*

But that, of course, was the problem.  

Garak wasn't deceived by the feeble excuses Bashir 
had given for his defection. It wasn't the weight of public 
disapproval that had destroyed them--he knew his 
Julian better than that.  If Julian's love had equaled 
his, they would have been strong enough to endure 
anything. 

No, Entek's death had destroyed them.  Garak's old
enemy had had his revenge after all. 

Such was the protective nature of his love that he 
could not set aside his hatred for the man who had 
kidnapped, tortured, threatened the life of his beloved.  
He had planned his vengeance and had taken it as 
soon as the opportunity presented itself.  And Julian 
could not forgive him for that.

Instead, the foolish boy persistently dwelt on the past. 
He'd begun to ask questions: What part had Garak 
played in the Occupation? Had he interrogated 
prisoners? Cardassians? Bajorans?  Had he been
involved in the war with the Federation?  Had he 
tortured captured Starfleet officers?  Had he done the 
same things Entek had? How many people had he 
killed?  And, when Garak refused to answer--he would 
rather Julian never learn the facts surrounding his 
personal history--his inquisitive mate had been left 
free to make some astonishing, imaginative, and even 
accurate guesses.  

"I've heard that you've been drinking."

Garak's eyes focused abruptly on his companion at 
the soft-spoken words.  So this wasn't lunch with an 
old friend; this was a visit from his physician.

"Not heavily," he answered.

"You're at Quark's every evening."

Had Julian been spying on him?  "Please, _Doctor_,"
he answered stiffly, "if I meant to `drown my sorrows,' 
I would replicate as much alcohol as I wished in the 
privacy of my quarters, not make a spectacle of 
myself on the Promenade.  Your disinterested 
concern for my welfare is touching, but misplaced."

It was also more than he could bear.

He threw his napkin over his half-finished lunch and 
was about to leave the table when Lt. Dax came up 
to them.

"Commander Sisko's been looking for you- No, Julian, 
not you.  Garak.  He wants you to see you up in Ops.  
There's a message for you from the Arawath colony."

~~~~~
ii

"We received the message this morning through an
unusual carrier route," said Sisko.  "It looks like it
bounced around the system for awhile before it was
picked up here at the main communications center.
Lt. Dax believes that the sender knew you were on
the station, but she wasn't able to contact you directly.
It's from a woman named Mila."

Garak looked very interested as Sisko spoke the
name; out of the corner of his eye, he noted that
Bashir, who had followed them up to Ops, was
watching him with undisguised curiosity.

"You know her?" the commander asked.

"We were...friends, once.  What does she have to say?"

"You can see it for yourself."  Sisko gestured toward
the terminal on his desk and moved back slightly to
allow the tailor to come around and access the
message.

A recorded, somewhat static-distorted image of
Mila's face appeared on the small screen for only a
few seconds.  Her words in uncoded and
untranslated Kardasi would have sounded cryptic to
anyone except himself:

"_Elim, he is dying.  He wants to see you._"

"Arawath," Bashir said softly behind him.  "Isn't that
where Enabran Tain retired to?"

Garak glanced back at him, scowling.  "Yes, it is.
Commander," as he turned to address Sisko, "I
know it's presumptuous of me, but I'd like to request
the use of one of your runabouts."

Sisko, who had only been mildly curious before,
was seriously intrigued by the mention of Tain.
"All right," he conceded.  "But I'd like one of my
officers to accompany you."

"Yes, of course."

"I want to be certain my runabout is returned in one
piece."

"You have my word..."

Sisko flashed one of his lightning smiles.  "I'm sure
you'll be very careful.  Dax, will you call Constable
Odo up to Ops?  He'll be taking a trip this afternoon."

"Yes, sir."  Dax exited the commander's office;
Garak went out with her.

Bashir remained behind.

"Sir," he ventured once the doors slid shut behind
the departing pair.  "I'd like to go with them."

"Are you certain that's wise?"

"If Tain is dying, a doctor might come in handy.
Garak-  Tain means something to him. I'm certain
he'd be glad to have me along if I can help."  He
waved away Sisko's concerns.  "Our personal
problems are not important--we'll work around them.
Besides," with a smile,  "we'll have a chaperone."

~~~

Garak had consented complacently to having Odo
accompany him to Arawath, but he barely
managed to be polite when Sisko announced that
Bashir was coming along.  Once Bashir was on
board the runabout, the tailor made it clear to his
ex-mate that his company was not welcome.

"Understand this, my dear boy--you are here at
Commander Sisko's insistence. I don't wish to
appear ungrateful after he so generously provided
me with this transport.  So, if you'll just sit down
and keep quiet, this trip shouldn't be too unpleasant
for either of us."

"I won't be any trouble," Julian answered. "I only
want to help."

Garak gave him a nasty little smile.  "I have no wish
to question your skills as a physician, but Tain has
undoubtedly received the best medical care Cardassia
can provide.  Your help is not needed.  There's no
reason for you to be here."

The rebuff stung, but the doctor set his jaw stubbornly
and refused to back down.  "Nevertheless, Garak,
I _am_ going with you."

And, after they departed the station, he went off to
sulk in the aft compartment.  Garak sat silently up
front with Odo.

Odo spoke first:

"He means well."

"Yes.  It's part of his sensitive nature that he can't
see people in pain and not want to aide them.  Very
medical of him."  Garak did not try to conceal the
bitterness in his voice.  "Unfortunately, he seems
entirely oblivious to the pain he's causing _me_."

Odo nodded.  "My condolences."

This was not the first expression of sympathy Garak
had received but, in spite Odo's gruffness, it sounded
sincere.

He replied, "Thank you," with equal sincerity.  Then
he added, "The general opinion around the station
seems to be that the good doctor has finally come
to his senses."

"I've had opportunities to observe you more closely
than `the general opinion' since Dr. Bashir returned
to his former quarters."

Garak glanced at him, eye-ridges widened.
"Constable, you surprise me."

"I've always kept an eye on you--standard security
procedures.  And of course Starfleet insisted
on closer surveillance after you married one of their
officers."

"Of course."  He was well aware of it; the surprise
was that Odo would tell him about it.  "So, what
have you observed during your standard surveillance,
Constable?" he asked with forced brightness.

"You've rarely left your quarters for the past nine days,"
Odo reported bluntly.  "You've been to your shop
only twice. When you _do_  go out, you go to Quark's
and order kanar--you drink at least a half-liter.  Or
you go to the replimat, and you always choose the
table which affords a view of the entrance to the
Infirmary."

"This is fascinating.  And what do you conclude?"

"That you're not taking this very well."

"No," Garak laughed.  "If you were not a formless
shapeshifter who could never experience the joys of
physical sensation or the emotions that go with it,
you'd understand why."

"I don't know a thing about the physical sensations
and emotions you solids experience," Odo agreed
in the same gruff, unemotional tone.  "But I am
interested in them--call it research into the humanoid
condition.  Can I ask you, in your opinion as a solid:
Is it worse to lose the object of your love or never to
have it?"

The question nearly intrigued the tailor out of his
dark mood.  Now why would the stoic constable
take an interest in disappointed love?

"I really can't tell you," he answered.  "I find myself
just as miserable either way."

~~~

When they reached the Arawath colony, they nearly
had a second quarrel because Bashir insisted on
beaming down with Garak; Garak had only conceded
when the doctor pointed out that he had come along
solely to provide medical services to the dying man.

"I have no wish to question the skills of Tain's
Cardassian doctors," Julian had concluded, "but
Federation medical technology is generally
acknowledged to be superior.  Maybe his doctors have
missed something.  At least, it couldn't hurt if I just
took a look at him, could it?"

Odo had decided to remain with the runabout in orbit.
"I'm not interested in meeting your retired spy-
master," he explained.  "Besides, we _are_ in
Cardassian space.  I promised Commander Sisko I
would keep an eye on the runabout, and I may be
of more use here if we need to leave quickly."

Garak and Bashir agreed to leave him behind.  The
coordinates for Tain's house had them beam down
into a courtyard.  It was late afternoon, crackling with
dry, desert heat. A large, dull-red sun hung halfway
over the roof of the house surrounding them and the
sky was a murky purple.

"Is this what Cardassian Prime is like?"  Bashir
wondered, already wiping his forehead.

"You've been to Cardassia."

"Only the dungeon."

A woman came out of the wing of the building behind
them.  Garak, turning at the sound of the door sliding
open, smiled and stepped quickly toward her.

"Mila!"

She took his head between her hands in an affectionate
gesture of greeting.  "Elim," but her tone was wary.
"How have you been?"

"I am well," he answered absently, glancing at the
dark windows of the house.  "How is _he_?"

Mila turned back to the thickly shaded veranda where
she had emerged.  The door was opening again.

Tain stepped out.  The retired head of the Obsidian
Order looked older and much heavier than he'd been
when Garak had seen him last, but that warm,
menacing smile of greeting was exactly the same
as he remembered it.

Almost instinctively, the tailor moved to place himself
between Tain and Bashir.

"It's good to see you again, my boy," Tain said as he
advanced.  "You've been missed."

"I was told you were dying," with a glance at Mila.

"Now, now.  Don't blame her.  Mila has only done as
I've instructed.  I had to bring you here somehow."
Tain glanced at Bashir.  "I see you've brought your
Federation...attachment."

"We've met," Julian said dryly.

"Yes, I remember you quite well, Lieutenant... what
would it be now?  Garak-Bashir?  Bashir-Garak?"

"We've each kept our own names," the doctor replied,
upper lip curling in a little sneer.

"It must be less confusing that way," Tain agreed,
allowing Bashir's impudent manners to pass without
comment.  "Do come in.  You've arrived just in time for
dinner.  Mila, please set out extra plates for our visitors.
Our Elim's come home."

~~~

Tain dominated the conversation over dinner.

"All the Central Command and Detapa Council can talk
about these days is the threat posed by the Dominion,"
the aged Cardassian told his guests.  "It's these Founders.
We've never encountered a race like them before. What
remarkable surveillance skills they must have!  Paranoia
is rampant throughout the Empire.  We're seeing shape-
shifters everywhere--wives, children, old friends, trusted
associates.  No one is untainted by suspicion.  I
suppose you've seen them, Elim--aside from the resident
Changeling on your station."

"I've never had the pleasure, that I know of," Garak
answered.  "But Dr. Bashir's had his unfortunate brush
with them."

"They seem to be willing to stay on their own side of
the wormhole so long as we don't intrude on Dominion
space," Julian added tentatively.

Tain ignored this. He had not spoken to the doctor once
during the meal, his way of excluding Bashir from the
conversation.

"The Council intends to seal our borders and inspect all
unavoidable traffic to prevent contamination," Tain said
dryly, as if he thought this ineffective.  "My successor--
Damie Kolran; you remember him, Elim--has instructed
the Order to devise and conduct some sort of scan to
determine that all citizens of Cardassia are who they
claim to be."

"Sensible precautions," said Garak.

"Now, I believe we must be more aggressive if we are to
ward off this invasion," Tain continued.  "Wait for them to
come to us?  Ridiculous!  The Empire will be undermined
before we know it's happened.  But," he finished with a
chuckle, "who listens to the advice of an old man?"

He did not refer to his reasons for luring Garak to
Arawath, except for one cryptic comment as they left
the table:

"Well, it's been a pleasant evening.  I should have
company more often.  We have business to discuss
in the morning, Elim.  It concerns your future."

But he would say nothing more explicit.

"No, not tonight.  Indulge an old man's fancy, Elim.
You've had a long journey and no doubt you want to
rest.  No, no--I wouldn't dream of sending you up
to sleep on your ship.  You'll stay the night, of course.
Mila will show you and Lt. Bashir to the guest quarters."

The "guest quarters" turned out to be a single room
with a large, hard-looking slab for a bed and gauzy
nets strung over the windows.

"I guess he doesn't know that we've separated," Julian
said as he looked around the room.

This remark struck Garak as so remarkably inane that
he considered not acknowledging its existence with an
answer.

"Of course he knows," he said at last, irritably, and sat
down at the foot of the bed to pull off his shoes.

"And he still put us together?"  Julian understood the
implications.  "Another example of the Cardassian
capacity for petty cruelty.  No wonder you're renowned
throughout the quadrant for your skills as torturers."

"I take that as a compliment, my dear boy." He
unfastened his tunic and threw it to the nearest chair.

Julian stared at him for a moment, eyes sad.  "I don't
know if it's worse to hear you call me, `Doctor' as if
we were strangers, or to hear you snarling endearments."

"I mean them all sincerely."

"It doesn't sound like it."

"What would you like then?"

"`Julian' would be nice.  It's only my name."

"Very well."  An ironic request, considering that Julian
hardly ever called him `Elim.'   Garak had managed
to coax him into using his first name in their more
intimate moments, but otherwise Julian lapsed into
his old formality.

While Garak continued to undress for bed, the doctor
located the replicator and ordered a pair of pajamas.

"Tain," Julian said tentatively as he changed.  "He's
very important to you."

"What leads you to think that?"

"He's the man who sent you into exile.  When I met
him, he spoke as if he hated you, as if he'd given you
a punishment worse than death and he was _happy_
to do it.  He wanted you to be miserable.   And yet,
in spite of everything that's happened between you,
you travel all this way to see him at a moment's notice.
You only waited to be asked."

When Garak refused to respond to this probing,
the doctor plunged on boldly:  "He was your lover,
wasn't he?"

"No!  Of course not."

Julian didn't look as if he believed it.  Well, so be it.
Garak, down to his underwear, pulled down the quilt
and crawled toward the head of the bed to lie down.

"He's going to offer you the chance to return to
Cardassia, isn't he?"  Julian resumed his line of
questioning.

"I really couldn't say."

"If he does, you'll accept it.  You'll leave the station."

"There's no reason for me to stay, is there?"

They stared at each other, challenging.  After a
moment, Julian dropped his gaze.

"I suppose not," he answered.

Bashir's replicated pajamas were made of some
thick, silk-like white material and rather loose-fitting
on his slender frame.  Even as he was aesthetically
offended by the poor fit, Garak was amused by his
ex-mate's modesty.

*I know every centimeter of your body, dear Julian.
You hold no mysteries for me.*

Julian, catching Garak's eyes traveling slowly down
him, blushed.  "Shall I sleep on the chair?" he offered.

Garak flashed an unpleasant smile.  "My love, you're
not _that_ tempting."  He gathered up an armful of
quilt and pointedly turned his back.

After a moment, he heard Julian sigh and order,
"Lights out."  There was a slight movement on the
bed behind him as the young man climbed in
and curled up to sleep.

~~~~~
iii

Garak awoke at the abrupt motion at his back: Julian
had jerked upright with a sharp intake of breath.  He
didn't have to ask what was wrong.  He knew.  They
had been through this many times before.

"You're still having those dreams?" he asked.

"I haven't in months," Julian answered.  He was still
breathing hard.  "I thought I'd gotten past it."

Garak turned over.  Though the room was almost
totally dark, he could just make out the huddled figure
in white sitting beside him.  He reached out; his
fingers met the heavy fabric of Julian's pajamas and
he slipped an arm about the slender waist and tugged
gently--"Come here"--to draw the young man down.

Julian lay against him, rested his cheek in the hollow
of his shoulder and threw an arm across his chest.
"It's probably because we're here," he said sheepishly
once he had calmed down.  "Tain's house.  That man
scares the hell out of me.  I can't help remembering
the Obsidian Order Headquarters..."

"No need to apologize.  I understand."  He spoke
soothingly, knowing that if Julian knew half as much as
he did about Tain, he'd rightly be frightened out of his
wits.  "He won't harm you.  You'll be going home in the
morning."

Warm breath, growing more relaxed and steady,
blasted over his collarbone.  He could feel that
intoxicating human body-heat even through the thick
pajama fabric.  It reminded him of the first time he'd
held Julian in his arms like this:  the doctor had been
ill, feverish.  Garak recalled that sweet, hot
intensity with a pang of sorrow for what he had gained
that day and what he had since lost--and he wanted
to slip his hands into the folds of silken material
and touch that enticing warmth directly...

The thought of it was making him hard and damp.

He had lied; Julian _was_ that tempting.

Tentatively, he slipped one hand up beneath the
pajama top to stroke the bare skin; the warmth of
Julian's body rose under the curve of his palm.
Julian only sighed and wriggled a little closer.
Next, Garak teased loose the waistband on the
pajama bottoms and slid his hand down, traced the
ridge of the hip bone, found the faint, raised scar on
the flank and, meeting with no resistance, reached
around to caress his mate's backside; the firm, springy
muscles tensed at his touch.

He was aware that Julian's breath on his collar was no
longer slow and relaxed.

"Garak?" softly.

"Hm?"

"Do you want to make love?"

"Do you?"

Julian lifted his head.  "Yes. Yes...I think I'd like that."
He shifted slightly, taking his weight off Garak's chest
and, after a moment's hesitation, reached up in the
darkness to brush his fingers across Garak's face to
locate his mouth.  He stretched up, guided by his own
sense of touch; as they kissed, he wriggled out
of his pajamas.

Still kissing, Julian trailed a hand down the tailor's
scaled chest, his belly, feeling his way in the
dark, until he touched the upper edge of Garak's
underpants.  He grabbed the waistband, tugged down.
His fingers sought, found, stroked the length of the
freed erection; his thumb rubbed in swift, small circles
on the cartilaginous carapace that covered the glans.
This was one of the things Garak had taught him to
do: to stimulate as much natural lubrication as he
thought necessary for his own comfort.

They were alien enough to each other without placing
greater emphasis on their differences.  Since Julian
had so little previous experience with men of any
species and his one contact with Cardassian males
had been exceptionally brutal, Garak had committed
himself to making sex as comfortable as possible for
his mate by taking Julian on human terms--or as close
as he could approximate while allowing for certain
necessities of Cardassian biology.

He had given a great deal of attention to human
sexuality these past months: He'd studied the
literature--the cloying romances, the more
explicit pornography, the treatises in the medical
database--and he'd asked Julian questions in both
a professional and personal capacity.  Some of the
information he'd gained astonished him (He'd been
appalled, for example, at Bashir's explanation of his
circumcision. Who would have guessed, of all the
races in the quadrant, that _humans_ would be the
ones to practice ritualized genital mutilation?  It
seemed so much more the kind of thing Klingons
would enjoy.).  In return, he had instructed Julian
on the basic facts of his own sexuality--as a physician,
Bashir was of course naturally curious, and quite
compliant with accommodating his needs.

Julian's ministrations had worked him up from the
moisture of mild arousal to a condition too slippery
to handle, and Garak couldn't bear it another second.

As he took Julian by the shoulders and rolled to press
him to the mattress, he felt the slender body turn
rigid beneath him.  This was familiar too:  How often
had he felt Julian stiffen in his arms, seen that flash of
panic in his eyes as he remembered some outrage
committed during his abduction?

It had been awhile.  Was there something he had
forgotten?  Or was this a new taboo?  It occurred to
Garak that it was perhaps not the best idea to try
and have sex with someone who had just had a
nightmare about being molested.

"Do you want to stop?" he asked in spite of the
pounding urge to plunge into his mate immediately,
before Julian had a chance to refuse.  He still had his
self-control.

"No," Julian whispered, quickly rallying himself.  "No,
it's all right," he insisted.  "Go ahead.  Please."   He
was already shifting to accommodate beneath Garak,
lifting his knees.

Garak proceeded cautiously, aware as always
of the relative fragility of his human lover.  He had
discovered that Julian was deceptively hardy; it was
probably not as easy as it seemed to snap that
alien-thin neck--

as he nuzzled just below Julian's ear.

To crush the unshielded rib-cage--

even as he caught it up in a fierce embrace, arced the
slender torso over his arms, and gently nipped a
sensitive nub of flesh; Julian cried out softly.

To cause untold internal damage--

if he thrust any harder into his beloved.

Nevertheless, he restrained himself.  Julian clung
to him, kissed him, made his soft, little sounds of
pleasure--Responsive, as always, but _so_ passive
that Garak wondered if Julian enjoyed this coupling, or
only let himself be taken in exchange for that sense of
security he truly desired.

When he had spent himself, he lay for a moment with
his brow against his lover's oddly smooth and concave
breastbone, gasping for breath. Julian murmured his
name as if he drew comfort from the sound; when
Garak looked up, the doctor's tongue traced the ridges
around his eyes.  They kissed again, then Garak
untangled himself from the long arms and legs
wrapped around him, and began to kiss down.

Cardassian night-vision was more acute than human.
Garak could see a little better in the darkness, but he
guided himself along Julian's body solely by touch.
His mouth moved from tender throat to smooth breast-
bone to taut abdomen, tasting the salty, faintly musky
flavor of human sweat, suppressing the mating instinct
to sink his teeth into that terrifyingly delicate flesh.
Astonishing that his merest touch did not tear it.  At
last, he crouched between Julian's parted legs, and
bent his head to surround the slender, still-erect sex
with his lips.

There was a second moment of panic when his elbow
accidentally nudged an innocuous spot on the doctor's
inner thigh; Julian squeaked, flailed his arms, and
squirmed as if he wanted to escape.  Garak paused,
and slowly moved his arm away from the taboo area.

More than hurting Julian physically, he was afraid
of reminding him of Entek and his guards, of what he
had suffered at their hands. Garak had not heard the
full story, had never pressed Julian for details which
might be painful.  Julian had assured him he had not
been raped, but Garak knew certainly that he had
been tortured, beaten, and perhaps molested.  The list
of taboos was suggestive: He could not turn Julian to
lie face-down, nor touch the hollow at the base of his
spine.  He couldn't take him by the wrists nor place a
hand over his mouth to shut him up, even in play. The
word "relax" was strictly forbidden.  A dermal
regenerator would take care of any bruises or
lacerations inadvertently inflicted on that tender skin,
but the scars left by _those_ memories could not
be repaired so easily.

He wished, as always, that Julian would trust him a
little more.

*What is it you think of when I touch you?* he
wondered as he returned his attention to the
completion of Julian's satisfaction.  *What frightens
you so? Is it Entek you remember, the violations he
committed against you?  Or do you wonder if _I_
committed those same outrages against other
victims in my best-forgotten past? Are you afraid that
I might do those things to you?*  He continued his
tease, gentle enough not to alarm, vigorous enough to
stimulate, until Julian's soft, little cries grew more
urgent.  *Would you believe me, my love, if I told you
that I would never deliberately cause you harm?*

But why complain of it now?  This was, after all, to be
their last time.

With a faint cry, Julian convulsed in orgasm. Garak
swallowed rapidly, then lingered where he was a few more
minutes to lick the remaining droplets of moisture away
before he lay back on the bed and gathered the doctor
into his arms.

"I miss us being together like this," Julian said as he
cuddled to him drowsily, happily.  "I feel safe with
you.  And it gets so lonely at night."

"You're not seeing anyone yet?"  Garak felt a stab of
jealousy at the thought.

But Julian answered:  "No, I haven't seen anyone since
I moved out.  I don't intend to for awhile--I have a lot to
think about before I try to begin another relationship."
He sighed.  "You taught me a lot, about myself.  You
made me aware of needs I didn't even know I had."

"What will you do, now that you're alone?"

"I don't know.  I suppose I can always go to Quark's
and pick up beefy freighter captains."  Garak knew that
impish tone.  He was teasing.  "Or," a different tone,
still playful but with more feeling, "I can come around
and visit you."  He landed a quick kiss on Garak's jaw
before settling down to a contented sleep.

Garak curled protectively around the warm, vulnerable
body and hated himself for hoping.

*This means nothing,* he cautioned himself.  *He only
turns to me when he's frightened.  When he's no
longer afraid, I have nothing more to offer. What can I
provide for him? Conversation?  Mystery?  This gentle
sex?  It is not enough.  He will not stay.*

There was the irony: He had killed Entek so that Julian
would feel safe again--and the young man had recovered
swiftly once Entek was dead--but once he was secure
in himself, Julian no longer needed the haven Garak had
provided for him.  He'd found the strength to leave.

Julian was right.  Cardassians were masters at cruelty
and, once, he had been more skilled than most.  The
worst things imagined about him were probably true.
He was even cruel enough to wish that Julian would go
on having nightmares just so they could have a few
more nights like this.

~~~~~
iv

Garak came down early the next morning, but Mila
and Tain were up already, having their breakfast in
the dining hall below the open stairs.  Mila served
him a glass of rokassa juice--the real thing, not
replicated; he'd forgotten the sweet subtleties of
the natural undertaste--and then she disappeared.

So, it appeared Tain was prepared now to discuss his
future.

"We didn't expect you up yet, Elim," Tain began
conversationally.

"The sunrise woke me.  I couldn't keep my eyes shut
with all that light blazing in through the windows.  On
Deep Space Nine, we only see bright lights outside
when a ship has exploded."

Tain nodded.  "You must miss the natural cycle of day
and night on that station of yours."

"Yes, it's one of the more unpleasant aspects of exile."

The elder Cardassian smiled with what was meant to
look like sympathy, but didn't quite make it.  "And you
used to so enjoy travel, I recall."  He sighed.  "You
were one of my best operatives.  I could send you
anywhere on an assignment.  You never shirked, no
matter how unpleasant the task.  Always eager to
perform your duty for the good of Cardassia--I thought
I could rely on you for anything.  I had a part in your
education and upbringing, Elim.  Your training.  You
might say I formed your mind."

"I won't disagree," Garak answered, sipping his juice
and watching Tain over the rim of the glass.

"I ought to know you intimately.  At one time, I thought
I did.  Yet you have surprised my expectations time
and again.  Your betrayal-"  Garak tried to protest,
but Tain went on as if he hadn't heard,  "Your ability
to thrive in exile among the Bajorans.  Your attachment
to that young lieutenant of yours-" He waved in the
direction of the gallery overhead.  "Is he up yet, by
the way?"

"I left him asleep.  He had an uncomfortable night."

"They're a soft species," Tain spoke with open contempt.

"Don't underestimate them.  I've found them to be a
remarkably tough people, for all their apparent frailty."

"Well, I've never shared your appreciation for inferior
races.  I'm not criticizing your conduct, Elim.  Believe
me, I sympathize with your need to take whatever
companionship you could find during your exile--
even a Starfleet officer."

"That's over now."

"Is it?  I'm sorry to hear that." The words sounded
sincere, but Garak was suddenly certain that
Tain knew exactly what had happened last night.  It
was likely the guest room had been monitored.

*I hope we were sufficiently entertaining.* he
thought as he finished his juice.

Tain continued:  "I've followed your life in exile, Elim.
You were never far from my thoughts.  I observed
your relations with the pretty young lieutenant with
great interest, even before he came here demanding I
help him save your life."

"It was very brave and foolish of him."

"Do you think so?" Tain asked.  "I was touched.  A
human, a Starfleet officer, and he obviously cared very
much for you.  It mattered to him whether you lived or
died.  I confess, I was quite intrigued by your...
friendship.  It showed me how lonely you were, to
turn to that one young man who offered you comfort.
It saddened me, to think that _you_, who had once
held so much potential, were reduced to playing
`husband'."

Garak had always been amused by Bashir's use of this
gender-specific term; from Tain's mouth, the same
harmless word sounded like an obscenity.

He did not protest.  There were too many important
matters at stake here; he'd be a fool if he spoiled them
by taking offense at a few insults.

"Ah, Elim, you've been away too long."

He didn't want to interpret this circuitous and
maudlin reminiscence too optimistically, but he was
beginning to hope in spite of his typical caution.  Was
there a particular reason why Tain might decide to
forgive him just now?  None that he could think of.
But why else would the old man have gone to so much
trouble to bring him here?  Was this a trap? Or was
Tain going to permit him to have a future again?

Would he even be considering Tain's offer if he and Julian
were still together?  Interesting question.

It was not the first time he'd speculated on what
would happen if he were given the opportunity to
return to Cardassia, but it had been much easier to
choose between never seeing his home again and
never seeing Julian when the question was only an
abstract exercise.   He could decide to stay with
Julian--and feel no more than the slightest wistful
ache--when the other possibility did not truly exist.

As painful as it would be to leave his sometime-mate
behind when he was restored to his former position
of power, it was unthinkable that he could take Julian
to Cardassia.  Putting aside the problem of whether
or not Tain would permit it, Garak knew that bringing
Bashir home with him would be forcing the doctor into
an exile worse than the one he had endured these last
few years.  At least, he had had resources, an
occupation, amusements of a sort. Julian would have
to give up his medical practice, his career, to become
a second-class citizen on Cardassia.  _He_ had
gained a grudging respect from the key personnel on
the station.  Julian's friends didn't like him, but they
all eventually believed that his affection for the doctor
was genuine and they made efforts to include him
whenever they invited the doctor to their social
interactions. Even Major Kira and Chief O'Brien, who
despised him, managed to display remarkable
tolerance in his presence rather than risk offending
Julian.  On the other hand, Garak knew his fellow
Cardassians and their attitudes towards humans too
well.  His friends in the Obsidian Order would
recognize that Julian belonged to him and honor the
doctor's untouchable status, but even they would be
more likely to regard his human companion as an
exotic sex toy than as his legitimate spouse.  Like
Tain, they would either ignore Julian or insult him.

He could never subject Julian to that sort of life--
alone in a hostile territory and a jarringly alien
environment--but then, Julian would never consider
making so enormous a sacrifice for him, even if he
were to ask.

Yet, if they were still bonded, he would be obliged to
make a similar sacrifice by refusing Tain's offer--if
indeed Tain was about to make an offer--and choosing
to remain on DS9 for Julian's sake.  If Julian had not
abandoned him, he would be torn right now between
his love and his homeland.

But now that he was free..?

He would rather not spend the rest of his life gazing
hopefully after Julian Bashir and waiting upon that
inconstant creature's fears and whims.  He refused to
endure that torment.  For his own best interests, he
needed to put as much distance as possible between
them.

His dear doctor had spared him a difficult decision.

He ventured the question:  "Are you asking me to come home?"

"I've been thinking a great deal of the old days," said
Tain, not actually answering him.  "The matter of your
fate has come up again lately.  I've kept track of a few
of my more effective former operatives, you know."

"This doesn't have anything to do with the fleet being
constructed by the Order in the Orias sector, does it?"

He had gone a step too far; Tain glanced up at him
severely. "Fleet?  What fleet?  Your sources have
misinformed you, Elim."

Garak nodded.  "I obviously need more reliable informants."

"I'd have them replaced immediately, if I were you."
Tain continued:  "I've given your situation particular
consideration.  There are elements in the Order that
disapprove your apparent allegiance to the Federation.
You've been seen to work in their interests.  Certain
factions especially resent you claiming a human for
your mate. You're not afraid for your young man's
safety, are you?"

"He's not my `young man' any longer.  And who would be
foolish enough to risk confrontation with the Federation
over him?"

Tain ignored this. "Some others are still puzzled by the
mysterious disappearance of one Gul Toran from the
Bajoran-held station."

"Are you suggesting I had something to do with that?"

"You traveled to Cardassia Prime--risking death, I
might add--to retrieve Federation-affiliated officers.  Lt.
Bashir, for reasons which _I_ can understand.  You
were always too easily led by sentimental impulses,
Elim.  It will be the death of you one day.  But that
Bajoran woman,"  Tain's mouth curved slightly in
disgust.  "There's no excuse."

"Commander Sisko made some persuasive arguments
to enlist my assistance."

"And then there's the murder of Entek.  A messy
business, that."  Disapproval was plain in his voice.
Not for his own actions--Garak felt reasonably certain--
but because Tain had always thought Entek a sloppy
operator.  He'd once said Entek left too many threads
uncut.

"I wonder," Garak began cautiously, "if you had
anything to do with Dr. Bashir's...unfortunate
encounter with the Obsidian Order."  It was a
dangerous question, but he had wondered about Tain's
part in the doctor's abduction for some time.  He
needed to know.

"If I had," Tain told him, "you would not have been
able to retrieve him under such unusual circumstances."
He shook his head.  "Now _there_ was an ineptly
planned operation--typical of Entek's arrangements.
More elaborate than it needed to be.  I always said
his work was slipshod.  Was there a need to create
an embarrassing incident with the Federation by
kidnapping one of their officers simply to fulfill a
personal vendetta? It wouldn't have been permitted
in my day."

This might actually be the truth.  If Tain had wanted
to injure him by damaging Bashir, the poor doctor
would now be damaged irreparably.  Entek would
never have surrendered him if Tain had been the
force behind that operation.

"No, Elim, you have no need to fear for the young
lieutenant's safety on my account.  But you _have_
made quite a few enemies during your recent
escapades."

"I've always had enemies."

"Mhm, yes," Tain said, as if distracted.  "I've been
thinking of coming out of retirement.  I believe I
still have much to contribute to the further good of the
Cardassian state."

"A commendable attitude."

"You can help me achieve that goal.  There's no need
for you to hurry back to your place of exile--if you can
tear yourself away from the demanding work at your
little shop and the charms of your devoted catamite.
Stay here with me awhile, won't you?  You've been of
service to Cardassia in the past, and I'm certain you
can be of further use to me."

At that moment, Garak was aware of a movement in
black out of the corner of his eye, and Tain looked up
over his shoulder, smiling broadly.

"Ah, Lt. Bashir!  Good morning!"

Bashir stood in the gallery above the dining area; he had
apparently heard the end of their conversation.

~~~~~
v

"Garak, you can't do it!" Bashir protested as he
bounded down the stairs. "You can't seriously
be thinking of staying here with-"  His eyes turned to
Tain and he shied momentarily, still intimidated by the
elder Cardassian, but he refused to retreat.  "With the
man who's tried to destroy your life once already."

*Brave and foolish,* Garak thought.  *As always.*  He
was acutely aware that even though Tain was smiling
indulgently at the doctor's outburst, there was a deadly
cold glitter in his eyes.  Bashir didn't realize how
dangerously close he was to offending a man who
did not forgive transgressions easily.

"There's no reason for you to insult our host, my dear
boy," he scolded lightly, hoping to defuse Tain's anger
and warn Julian of the seriousness of his blunder. "I
don't see why you object to this.  After all, my
personal affairs are none of your business."

"None of my business-!" Bashir yelped.

Garak brought one hand up swiftly to silence him then,
remembering that Julian was more likely to panic than
quiet down if he were muffled, pressed two fingers to
Julian's lips in a far more gentle gesture than he had
originally intended.  The young man's eyes went wide
at the touch.

"Now, Doctor," he cautioned, still in a playful tone.
"Behave yourself.  Remember, you abandoned the
right to interfere in my life a week ago."

"Perhaps I ought to leave you two to discuss this in
private," Tain suggested pleasantly.   He seemed to
find the scene entertaining--much to Garak's relief.
"If you will excuse me..."

The Cardassian bowed slightly and turned to exit.
Bashir watched him walk away, then whirled back to
Garak as soon as Tain went through the door at the
far end of the dimly lit room.

"Are you really planning to stay here with him?"

"He has offered me the one thing I simply can't
resist--an opportunity to be restored to my home and
my former position," Garak answered.  "Do you
think I can refuse that?  I've waited _years_,
Doctor.  You and I agreed last night that I had no
reason to remain on Deep Space Nine."

"But that- That was before..."  Julian's voice trailed
away delicately.

"Before we fucked?"  Garak laughed.  He didn't wish to
be unnecessarily cruel, but he had no intention of
dragging this out--the longer it went on, the more
painful it would only be for the both of them--and he
wanted Julian out of here as quickly as possible.  "I'm
sorry, Doctor.  Did I misunderstand?  Was that
charming encounter meant to give me hope for our
reconciliation? If I return to the station, do you intend
to come back to me?  Or is it your plan to show up at
my door whenever you're feeling lonely or frightened?"

Julian gaped at him.  He opened and closed his mouth
several times before he could respond.

"I don't know if what happened last night solves any of
our problems, Garak," he said at last.  "But you must
see there's more at stake here than our relationship.
You've come so far. You've spent so much time among
humans-"

"That I'm in danger of becoming one?  Do you think
that's likely, Doctor?  _Me_?  The assassin?  The
torturer of a thousand hapless Cardassian citizens
and innocent Bajorans?"

Bashir winced at having his worst suspicions flung
back in his face.  "It doesn't matter to me what you
were," he insisted.  "Because I know you're better than
that.  You've taught me a lot, but I like to think I've
taught you a few important things too.  Compassion.
Trust.  Tenderness. I found them in you, though you've
spent your whole life pretending they weren't there.
You can't hide them away again now.  You're not the
ruthless Obsidian agent you once were.  You turned
your back on that way of life once--you can't return
to the Obsidian Order!"

A tactical error.  Julian should have made an emotional
appeal; Garak knew precisely how vulnerable he would
have been to _that_.  All the Powers in the universe
help him, he was in love.  A few tears in those soft,
expressive eyes, a promise, even insincerely made, to
stay with him if he returned to the station, and his
resolve would weaken.  Apparently, Bashir was
unaware of the power he held over him, or else he didn't
care enough to exercise it.  Instead of a heart-felt plea
that would have taken all his self-control to resist, his
foolish doctor spoke of an unselfish concern for his
moral improvement.

*Is that what I am to you?* he wondered.  *A social
project?  A lost soul to be recovered?*

He hoped so.  It made his next move so much easier.

"Can't return?" the tailor spat back.  "My love, I never
_left_ the Obsidian Order."

Julian drew in a quick breath, and brought himself
upright stiffly.  "I don't believe you."

Garak laughed in surprise.  "Doctor, from the first day
I made your acquaintance, you were convinced I was
a spy!"

"Yes, at first," Bashir admitted.  "You let me think so.
But later on, you made me believe you'd been exiled,
outcast."

"I was assigned to remain behind when Cardassia
withdrew from Bajor," Garak told him.  "I had my orders:
befriend one of the Federation staff and establish an
informal channel to convey information between...
my people and the station's new commander.  I
selected you immediately as my target. You were by
far the most approachable Starfleet officer--you had
not been in the war and you had no prejudices with
regard to Cardassians.  I watched you for some time
before I introduced myself.  And then when the appropriate
moment arrived and you were sitting alone at Quark's, I
cut you out of the crowd like a hungry dagger-toothed
grimslark cuts a dosii's straggling fawn from the herd."

"No, it isn't true," Julian insisted.  "You're only saying
these things to push me away."

"Oh, come now!" Garak taunted him further. "Surely
you can't be _that_  inobservant. You must have
chosen not to see what was really going on.  I picked
you out.  I led you along.  I made you my instrument.
Every step we have taken together has furthered my
own interests.  Do you think someone like _me_
would have chosen you as a companion if it didn't serve
a higher purpose?"

He watched as doubt began to overtake the poor,
dear, gullible boy's mind.  Bashir gulped.  His hands
fluttered nervously as he struggled for something to
say.  He didn't want to believe it, but Garak had
spoken directly to his insecurities regarding his own
self-worth and his uncertainties about the man he
had married.  It had been an effective piece of work.

Garak retreated to cool detachment and waited to
see what would happen once the doctor had composed
himself.

"You lied to me all this time?" Julian asked quietly.

"With every breath."

"You're an Obsidian Order agent?  You married me for-
what?- as a cover?"

"My position as the spouse of a Starfleet officer has
provided some wonderful opportunities to gather
information."

"You've been using me."

He smiled.  "Seducing you was not part of my original
assignment, but I'm afraid I couldn't help taking
advantage of your trusting nature. You've been a most
entertaining diversionary tactic. "

"You never cared for me at all?"

How many ways could he ask the same question?

"Oh, I am quite fond of you," Garak answered. "But,
really, Doctor, do you think you have been a
satisfactory mate for one of my kind?  Your
desires can never match mine.  You are passive.
Timid. Delicate."  He was sneering.  "This is all
very sweet, but it is hardly what I require from a true
lover.  I must restrain myself too much to enjoy
having you."

The words stung--as they were meant to.  Julian
stepped back to the nearest chair at the dining table
and sank down.  He sat very still, his face stony
to conceal his hurt.

It was time to end this painful little game.

Garak took him by the chin; Julian tried to twist
himself free, but the tailor's fingers clamped down and
forced his head up so that he could gaze deeply into
the tear-sparkled eyes.  He gave him a parting kiss.

"There, there, my dear.  It won't hurt for very long.  You
have that marvelous human resiliency to sustain you.
You'll get over it--in a month, you'll forget you ever knew
me."

~~~

After this, there was nothing else to do but send Julian home.

Bashir stood by, sullen, while Garak announced to
Tain that he was staying and the elder Cardassian
offered him a hearty welcome. The doctor was still not
entirely sure that Garak had been telling the truth, but
he had been hurt just the same.

"Shall I send your belongings here?" Julian asked stiffly
once Garak turned back to make his farewells.

"There are very few souvenirs of my exile I would ever
wish to see again."

"He won't need them," Tain agreed.  "You'll be going
to Cardassia Prime this afternoon, Elim."

Garak nodded.  "Burn them," he told Julian.  "Sell them.
Or keep them as a remembrance.  Whatever you like."

Julian didn't answer this.  He tapped his commbadge.
"Bashir to Odo, one to beam up."

A minute later, he dissolved away in a shimmer of
colored lights.

~~~~~
vi

Bashir appeared on the transporter platform in the
runabout.  Odo stared at him, then glanced at the
empty pad beside him.

"Mr. Garak is not coming with us?"

"No," the doctor answered tightly as he leapt off the
platform, "he's not.  Let's just get out of here."

He took a seat and punched in their course with
violent little stabs.  Then, fingers still tapping restlessly
on the edge of console, he spun his chair half-way
around as if he meant to get up, then reconsidered.
After a moment of indecision, he sighed and settled
again with his arms folded and eyes distant.  Odo
observed his agitation but, wisely, refrained from
asking any more questions.

They had just left orbit and were navigating around
Arawath's moons when the proximity sensors
beeped. Bashir, eyes misted and fingers still fidgeting,
broke away from his thoughts and sat forward.

Odo checked the monitors.  "There's a vessel approaching."

"It's a small passenger craft," Julian ID'd.  "I can't
identify the signature code, but it's probably
a private transport heading for the planet.  It
looks like it's going to pass close by.  I'll alter
our course to avoid possible collision."

He hit a few buttons.  The small spacecraft, now
visible through the forward windows, slowed as
it approached their position, then moved to
intercept them.

"All stop!"

"They're hailing us," Odo reported.

The transport hung in space before them; they were
now close enough to see that it was a standard
Cardassian design, but with no identifying
markings.  Bashir stared at it, wide-eyed, as
a scowling Cardassian face appeared on the view-
screen just over Odo's head.

"Federation vessel, state your business with
this planet."

"Our business," the constable growled,  "is none
of yours."

The Cardassian was obviously not expecting
this retort.  "Arawath is a Cardassian colony," he
snapped in reply.  "You intrude on _our_ space-"

A young officer stepped into view.  "Eroket, let
them pass," he ordered.

"But, sir-"

"We have more important matters to attend to!
Move along!  Federation vessel Mekong, you will
depart from Cardassian space immediately."

Bashir, who had been quiet up to this point, said
suddenly, "You're going to see Enabran Tain."

The officer glared at him and shut off the connection.
A moment later, the transport vessel zipped
away, passing near the runabout's starboard
windows.  For an instant, it was silhouetted
against the nearest moon.  Julian turned in his seat
to continue following its curving course around the
planet, even when it was no more than a set of
irregularly blinking lights against the more constant
stars.

"Odo, we have to go after them," he said.  "They're
going to kill him."

~~~

He'd done what had to be done, for his own good as
well as Julian's.  His innocent young mate could
resume that unturbulent life he'd enjoyed
before their marriage, and he-  He was about to be
restored to the life he was meant to lead.  They
would not torment each other any longer.  The
connection had been severed completely.

It was all for the best.  So why had he felt such an
intense, astonishing surge of emotions once Bashir
had beamed away?  This was no time for such
maudlin indulgences.  His exile, with its multitude
of discomforts and its one solace, was finally at
an end.

"What happens now?" he asked Tain.  "You told Dr.
Bashir that I would be going to Cardassia Prime today."

Tain nodded.  "You can be of immeasurable use to me there."

"And what is my assignment?  You haven't given me
much practical information about your plans for the future."

"Oh, you'll be told all you need to know before your
departure," Tain assured him.  "Patience, Elim."
There was the flicker of a smile.  "We have so little
time together, we ought to spend it pleasantly.  Sit
down, please.  Have some more juice."

Garak knew then.  His hands did not tremble as he
poured out a second glass of rokassa juice, raised it
to his lips, sipped, but he knew what was coming.
He was going home--not to return to his former
place at Tain's side, but as a prisoner.

Another foolish hope dashed.

"How long do we have?" he asked.

"Not long.  Your escort will be here shortly."

"My...escort."

Tain's slight smile grew wider when he saw that Garak
understood.  "Those elements among the Order I spoke
of," he explained with grisly joviality.  "They were content
to allow you to live in exile while you limited yourself to
the tailoring business.  That cannot continue now.
I need support if I am to resume my former position,
and I can place quite a few people under my obligation
if I hand you over."

"So this is why you summoned me to Arawath," Garak
said tonelessly, and sipped his juice.  The taste
of it seemed especially sweet.

"Oh, I suppose I could have had someone snatch
you off that space station," Tain answered.  "But I
confess I wanted to see you, Elim...one last time."

"How very touching."

"You're taking this very well.  You're not hoping that
that human mate of yours will return to rescue you,
are you?"

"No, of course not."  Garak dismissed the idea.  "He
knows so little of Cardassian ways--and almost nothing
about you.  Surely, he has no idea that this is anything
except a tender and long-awaited reconciliation.  My
only hope is that he is already far from here and safely
out of your reach by the time he hears the news of
my `restoration' to Cardassia."

Tain chuckled.

Not long afterward, a young officer of the Obsidian
Order, accompanied by three armed guards,
arrived at Enabran Tain's back door .

"Elim, this is Glin Aram," Tain made the introduction.
"One of my more recent associates. He will escort
you to Cardassia Prime."

Garak gave this smirking thug the barest, stiff bow.
It was not returned.   He then turned to Tain.

"I wish I could say that this reunion of ours has been
everything I dreamed it would be but, frankly, you
disappoint me, dear Enabran."

"The feeling is entirely mutual." Tain gestured for Aram
to take his prisoner's arm.  The three guards drew
their disruptors; Garak did not resist. "If you're worried
for Lt. Bashir- Ah, no excuses, Elim!  You're in love with
that boy.  Rest assured, I will promise his safety."

"I find that immensely comforting."

Tain overlooked his sarcasm.  "There is too much at
stake to make an enemy of the Federation right now," he
answered.  "And you know I would never harm one of
my favorite agents'  widows."

~~~

The transport had landed just over a kilometer from
Tain's house. Bashir and Odo left the runabout in orbit
and beamed back into the courtyard, where Tain was
still standing after he had seen his guests depart.

Tain simply smiled at their appearance.  "Ah,
Lieutenant!  I didn't expect to see you again so soon."

"Where is he?" Julian demanded.

"Elim?  You've just missed him, I'm afraid."

"They've taken him already.  _Where_?"

"Doctor-" Odo gestured through the open gateway
exit, to the small garden with its slate path leading
up the sloping side of the hill to the meadow beyond.
"This way."

Bashir stepped backwards toward the gate, skipping in
a little dance as he turned to break into a run while
keeping his eyes on Tain.

"If you've hurt him..."

~~~

Aram led his prisoner across the field behind Tain's
house toward the transport vessel.

"Have you been acquainted with Enabran Tain very
long?" Garak asked conversationally, as if he were
not flanked by the grim trio.

"Not long," came Aram's brusque reply.

"May I offer some advice, as a long-standing
associate of Tain's?  I've found that the patronage of
an influential person can be remarkably beneficial to
your career, but it also has its unfortunate drawbacks.
Our friend Tain is a very dangerous man once you
fall from his good graces.  His sense of loyalty is
most exacting.  I would be careful if I were you-"

"_I'm_ not the one who needs to worry about falling
into disfavor."

"True,"  the tailor admitted.  He glanced up casually
to take in his surroundings:  "It seems a shame that
anyone should die on such a lovely morning."

His escort scowled.  These young officers never
appreciated irony.

Garak was meek enough for the moment--it seemed
the wisest thing to do with so many disruptors pointed
at him--but he did not intend to be dragged home
and executed without making some effort toward
self-preservation.

He had three options:  he could try to escape right
now, before they reached the transport; he could let
them escort him onboard, overtake his guards once
they had left orbit, and steal the small craft; or he
could wait until they arrived on Cardassia and escape
there.  Each had its advantages, although the
second choice seemed to offer the greatest
likelihood of success--providing that he was not
drugged, closely restrained, nor placed in stasis
during the journey.

He considered the possibility of making a break for it
now.  There was no cover for meters: Tain's house on
the hillside below, other dwellings in the distance, a
line of forbidding-looking vine-like trees bordering the
northern edge of the clearing.  He would undoubtedly
be shot before he reached safety.  And if he did
manage to escape, where would he go?

Giving in to an unreasonable impulse, Garak glanced
up at the hazy lavender sky.  No sign of the runabout--
as if there might be!  Julian and Odo must be light-
years away by now. They had no reason to believe he
was in need of assistance.   A large, red-scaled raptor
was circling lazily overhead and, for a moment, he
wondered what carrion had attracted it.  A morbid
thought crossed his mind: Had it arrived in anticipation
of feeding on his corpse?

Predators know where the best food supplies are
found and return to those places repeatedly.  This
field behind Tain's home was a perfect unofficial
landing site for any associates of Tain's who might
drop by to conduct their business unobserved by
curious neighbors.  Who could say how many
inconvenient people had been disposed of here?

"Tell me," Garak asked in the same conversational
tone, "am I expected to reach Cardassia alive?"

Aram seemed just the type of ambitious young
officer, eager to gain favor with Tain or perhaps
another one of his enemies, who would kill him right
away and make up some plausible excuse for his
death.  It was exactly the sort of thing he would
have done himself twenty years ago.

Aram grinned.  "I have orders to bring you back to
Cardassia Prime," he answered.  "Although I'm sure it
will be far less messy for everyone concerned if I lose
you in transit."

"Yes, I see."

That was it.  The circumstances weren't perfect, but he
had to try to escape now, while he still had a chance
to alter the outcome of Aram's plans for an impromptu
execution.  The grass was fairly tall in spots.  Long,
dirty-yellow weeds brushed his knees.  Perhaps...

He fell forward suddenly, as if he had tripped.  The
nearest guard stepped forward to yank him up--Garak
kicked his ankles out from under him, snatched up his
disruptor, and shot him before he had time to react.

He rolled to sit up.  Now if he could just-

The two remaining guards and Glin Aram had already
fixed their disruptors upon him.

Well, it had been worth the attempt.  Garak held up his
hands, letting the weapon fall into the tall grass and
making note of its location.

Aram gestured with the muzzle of his disruptor for
Garak to stand up.  His grin was even broader now.

"Shot while trying to escape?" he said.  "I had hoped
for something more imaginative, but since you force me-"

He didn't finish the sentence.  There was the whining
buzz and flash of an energy beam, and Aram
dissolved in a halo of brilliant white light.

Garak heard a growling voice behind him, one he barely
recognized:

"Move away from him, _if you please_."

He turned, astonished.  Julian was standing ten
meters away, phaser extended toward the remaining
guards, ready to shoot again if necessary.  Face flushed
and breath coming hard through his teeth, he looked
quite capable of killing anyone who dared to threaten
his mate. Garak had never seen him so wonderfully
furious before and he was enchanted.  Had his gentle
doctor ever seemed more attractive?

The raptor dipped suddenly into a dive and landed in
their midst, taking both of the remaining guards down
with one sweep of its claws.  The edges of its wings
were already blurring into a gelatinous gold, changing...

"Are you all right?"

"Perfectly fine, Constable.  Your arrival has never been
more timely.  Splendid job, my dear," as Julian ran
up to them.

Bashir's eyes darted over his face uncertainly.

"Please, tell me you were lying."

"Of course I was lying.  You really ought to know
better by now."

A series of emotions flickered over the doctor's face--
exasperation, relief, abashment, fresh anger--before
he grabbed a fistful of Garak's tunic to pull him
close for an urgent kiss.

Yes, he definitely liked Julian this way.

Odo _ahem_'d loudly.  "Gentlemen..."

"Yes, quite right, Constable," Garak agreed.  "We
ought to be far away from here before Tain realizes
that something's gone wrong."

Julian looked at him hopefully.  "You're coming home
with us?"

Was he offering a reconciliation this time? Or simply
the accustomed sanctuary of the station? Not that it
mattered; Garak had nowhere else to go.  He
couldn't be certain what Julian wanted from him, but
he was intrigued by the possibilities.

He nodded.

The doctor beamed at him as he slapped his
commbadge.  "Computer, three to beam up.  Engage."

~~~~~
vii

The doctor began trembling soon after they left orbit
and were on their way back to DS9--a normal
physiological after-effect of an intense adrenalin surge,
he explained, neglecting to mention that he had also
just killed someone.  Garak took him back to the
aft compartment and made him sit down while he
ordered hot, sweet tea.  Odo joined them once he
was satisfied that they were in no immediate
danger of being followed.

"I don't suppose you're ready to tell me how you
knew Garak was about to be killed, Doctor?" the
Constable requested.

"Yes, I'm curious about that myself," Garak added.
"What made you come back?"

"Actually, I started to worry before I left," Bashir
explained between sips.  "It was when Tain said that
you wouldn't need your belongings because he was
sending you to Cardassia Prime right away.  It
sounded so sinister--as if you wouldn't need
anything ever again.  But then," he smiled slightly,
cradling the mug of tea between his palms,
"_everything_ Tain says sounds like an insult or a
threat.  And then we were stopped by that transport."

"You recognized that officer?" asked Garak.

"No..." Julian blinked at the mention of Aram.
"No, I never saw him before.  It was the ship. It
was just like the one Entek used to abduct me.  It
occurred to me that the Obsidian Order uses ordinary
passenger transports when they don't want to draw
attention."  He glanced at Garak for confirmation; the
tailor nodded.  "Tain could have simply called on
them to pick you up, but I had a bad feeling about it."

"So, you based your certainty that Mr. Garak was
in danger on intuition, not deduction," said Odo.

Bashir ducked his head and looked somewhat
chastened.  "I know it's not detective work on a level
you're used to--either of you. I probably missed a
dozen important clues which would have led to the
same conclusion."

"Believe me, dear Doctor, I'm not going to find fault
with your reasoning," Garak told him.  "It did save
my life."

"It accomplished its purpose," Odo agreed. This was
as close as he would come to saying he was glad
Garak was back.

"Will there be an inquest?" Julian asked.

Odo glanced from one man to the other; both looked
worried.  "I'll have to report the incident to Commander
Sisko," he answered.  "It'll be his decision."

"I'm certain Commander Sisko will take the unusual
circumstances into account," said Garak, and gave
Julian's shoulder a comforting little squeeze.

Odo _hmph!_'d, refusing to speculate on Sisko's
reaction.  "Now, if you'll excuse me, someone has to
pilot this runabout."

Once the Constable had gone, Garak turned to Julian
and asked, "How are you feeling?"

"Much better, thanks," Bashir replied as he surrendered
his empty mug.  "But _I_ should be comforting _you_.
After all, you were the one who was nearly executed."

"Not at all, my dear.  I'm perfectly fine.  In fact, I found
the experience to be exhilarating--quite like old times.  I
think this incident has been far more unsettling for you."

Julian nodded solemnly.  "I killed that man," he said,
as if he only now acknowledged it. "He pointed his
disruptor at you, and I wanted him _dead_.  I would
have killed them all if I had to.  Even Tain.  I thought as
I was running up that hill after you that if we were too
late and Tain's agents had killed you, I would go back
and get him, even if it was the last thing I ever did. I- "
He paused, as if he were ashamed to confess it even
to himself.  "I never hated anyone so much."

*You understand now,* Garak thought with a touch of
sadness.  As exciting as it had been to see Julian
fighting to protect him, he knew that that act of violence
committed in his defense had torn away some part of
the doctor's endearing innocence.  He would never be
quite the same after this.

But Garak only asked,  "Will you be all right?  You're
not going to be sick, are you?"

"No, I'll be fine," Julian assured him. Then he said,
"I can't believe you trusted him.  You must have had
some idea that he meant to betray you?"

"It had occurred to me that it might be a trap," Garak
admitted.  "But in light of everything I stood to gain, I
was willing to take the risk.  And, you know, if he held
out the same opportunity a second time, I'd be foolish
enough to do the same thing again."

"You care very much for him, don't you?" Julian asked
softly.  "In spite of everything he's done to you."

With a little gesture of dismissal: "Well, we all have
our sentimental weaknesses..."

Julian smiled.  "Should I be jealous?"

"No, not at all."

They went up to the cockpit.  Bashir did not take a
seat, but hung on the back of Garak's chair with his
chin on the top of the headrest and one hand almost
absently on the scaled ridge of the Cardassian's
neck--too light a touch to be rousing, but Garak found
it reassuring.  The doctor seemed inhibited by Odo's
presence, but it suggested that after this alarming
episode, Julian was reluctant to let him out of
his immediate reach.

~~~

Once they returned to the station, Julian accompanied
him to their old quarters.  Garak hadn't invited him--he
did not yet dare to hope--and Bashir didn't say a word,
but he remained at the tailor's side as they walked
down the corridors of the habitat ring, watching him
through lowered lashes with a hint of an expectant smile.

And when Garak opened the door, Julian pounced.
Garak was taken completely by surprise:  his Julian
_never_ pounced.

The doctor's weight brought him crashing down to the
floor.  As the door slid shut, Julian pinned him with
both hands on his shoulders and a knee on his chest.

"You lie to me," Julian growled with a playful ferocity
that, for all its impishness, held a flash of genuine anger.
"You say the most horrible, hateful things you can think
of to push me away.  You scare the _hell_ out of me."
He slid his leg over to sit astride the astonished tailor's
waist.  "And you think you can just get away with it?
Mister," as he spoke, he stripped down the top half of
his jumpsuit, "you _are_ going to pay for what you've
just put me through."  He pulled the lavender undershirt
off over his head.  "Right now." And then he yanked so
hard on the fastenings of Garak's tunic that he tore the
seams.  Garak could have thrown him off easily but,
for the moment, he was not inclined to try.

Until Julian ran his fingernails down his exposed chest.
Those blunt, human claws could not break his skin, but
it _hurt_.  The shock of it brought him up abruptly.  He
grabbed Julian's wrists and rolled, tumbling Julian to the
carpet and pinning his hands over his head.

"What was that?" Garak demanded.

"You said I was too timid.  You weren't satisfied-"

"You believe everything I tell you?"

Julian laughed.

He was not in the least afraid; Garak could see that.
There was no sign of panic in his eyes at being
restrained--quite the contrary, he was relaxed. He
understood that this was a game.

Garak was surprised that Julian had placed so much
importance upon words that had been spoken only
to cause him pain, and touched that he wanted
to amend his behavior because of them.  It was
truly commendable that Julian would try to please
him by attempting to initiate a Cardassian-style
mating ritual, but the young man was woefully
ignorant of how to undertake this rite.  Mere
aggressive language and rough play were insufficient;
they were, after all, well past the courtship stage.

Well, that was his own fault, wasn't it?  By taking his
mate on human terms, he'd neglected an important
part of Julian's education.

Julian arched his back, testing the grip on his wrists.
Garak thumped him down--lightly.  There were rules to
every game and limits to how far one could go even in
play.  That was the first lesson.

"Let me go."

"Are you going to be good?"

"I'm _always_ very good," Julian rejoined, his eyes
dancing with pure mischief.

The tailor grinned.  "You are too dangerous to be
allowed at liberty.  Who can predict the bodily harm
you'll cause? Now, Doctor, if you promise to behave
yourself, I will let you up."

And Julian answered, daring him:  "What will you do if I don't?"

Garak pulled him up abruptly.  "Then I will have to teach
you some manners."  There would never be a better
opportunity.

Once they had shed the rest of their clothes, they knelt
facing each other; Garak, mindful that not all aspects of
Cardassian foreplay were appropriate for his mate's
delicate sensibilities, tried to combine the human and
Cardassian ways into something that they would both
find pleasing.  He began his lessons by elaborating on
the basic information he had already provided Julian--the
sensual fanning of fingers across smooth scales at the
nape of the neck, the pressure of a thumb into the
concave surface of the jointed plates of the collar and
neckridge--and instructing his student in the long-put-
aside and half-forgotten nuances of touch. Tougher skin
required more intense stimulation, but tough did not
necessarily mean insensitive; as with all things
Cardassian, subtlety was appreciated here. The precise
degree of pressure exerted, from the coy brush of lips
and tongue and fingertips to the sharp, demanding nips
and pinches, created successively potent levels of sensation.

Julian, always an attentive pupil, experimented on the
ridges and scalework of his shoulders and chest and
the bony, spoon-shaped formation at the top of his
breastbone, testing his responses, delighting when
he provoked an intense reaction. He nibbled the
neckridge--and, for once, Garak gave into his
instincts to sink his teeth into the corresponding
spot on his lover's throat.

Julian yelped.  In pain?  He hadn't bitten that hard;
he hadn't even broken the skin.

Garak grabbed Julian by the forearms and held him
away; Julian blinked back with dark and dazzled
eyes. No, he hadn't been hurt; it had excited him.

It was time to move on to the next phase of the
doctor's education.

He pushed Julian up against the foot of the nearest
sturdy armchair and reached around his waist to turn
him around.  He gripped the doctor's arms--right in left,
left in right, crossing his arms over Julian's abdomen--
and parted his lover's knees with his own as he slowly
pulled him back.

Once he understood what Garak had in mind, Julian
flung himself into their coupling with the same ferocious
abandon, bracing against the chair to shove back
against Garak and impale himself until Garak finally
grabbed his hips to prevent him from inflicting
any damage.

Julian threw his head back and nearly screamed in
frustration.  "Elim!  What-?"

"You're going to hurt yourself."

"I'm fine."  He was panting, eyelashes fluttering, as he
tried to remain coherent.

"I could never forgive myself if you were injured."

Julian turned his head to give him a little smile, as if he
had understood Garak's concerns from the beginning.
"I won't break that easily.  If there's a problem,  I'll
let you know."

So, Julian was trying to teach him as well.

By being gentle, he had allowed Julian to be
comfortable and safe, but he had failed to tap any
depth of passion in his emotionally untouched mate.
It had apparently taken this recent series of events,
which had pushed poor Julian to the brink of trauma
yet again, to awaken such turbulent feelings.

His arms still tight about the slender torso--for
balance, not restraint--Garak let Julian continue at
his own pace.  He remained cautious: that human neck
still looked too fragile, the ribs _were_ unshielded and
the skin _was_ easily torn or bruised.  But Julian
must know his own limits and he had to let him
establish them.

As he approached the moment of release, he flung
Julian against the chair and thrust into him as hard
as he dared, listening all the while for any change of
tone in Julian's cries as he clung to the upholstery.
Julian's voice rose urgently as he reached his own
peak, but he never once sounded as if he were
frightened or in pain.

When they were done, Garak slid slowly off the sweat-
slick body draped half-over the chair.  As he lay
breathless, sprawled on the carpet, a hand trailed across
his chest; he opened his eyes to find Julian sitting
beside him, knees drawn up; the doctor looked very
young, tousled, radiant and, for the moment, extremely
unsure.

"Are you staying?" Garak asked.

Julian frowned, puzzled.  "The night?  Yes, if you want me to."

"Not only for the night," the tailor explained.  "_Always_.
I want you to make up your mind.  Either you belong
to me, or you don't.  I cannot tolerate a life dependent
upon your occasional visits."

He was lying:  he _would_ put up with it.  He would
despise himself for his weakness every time Julian
showed up at his door and he let him in, but he would
do it just to have Julian here once in awhile.  Of course,
he would never tell Julian that.  He might be a lovesick
fool, but he wasn't imprudent enough to reveal his
vulnerabilities during a crucial negotiation.

"Are you mine?"

He saw the flicker in Julian's eyes, and knew what the
answer would be:  Julian appreciated him a little more
now that he had nearly lost him forever, but he was
reluctant to make a promise he didn't think he could
keep.  This romp on the living-room carpet might have
helped them to understand each other a little better,
but it didn't make everything all right.

But Julian answered,  "Yes. Yes, I am." He curled up
to lie down beside Garak, head on his chest.
"Sometimes I wish I weren't--it would make our lives
so much easier--but I can't bear the thought of being
without you."

Garak fully sympathized with the sentiment.

"I was terrified when I thought I was going to lose you, Elim."

One confession deserved another.  "You are the only
treasured thing I possess," he replied,  gently stroking
the curls at Julian's temple.  "I dread the prospect of
losing you."

"Bastard!" Julian jerked upright and slapped his chest--
not very hard, but there was a second flash of anger in
his eyes.  "Then why have you been trying so hard to
keep me away? All those lies--Why do you have to
_say_ things like that? You would have just left me,
wouldn't you, if Tain had really wanted you back?"

"_You_ left me.  Have you forgotten?"  Garak captured
the doctor's hand as he sat up, just in case Julian
intended to lash out again.

"You let me go," Julian accused.

"How could I have stopped you?  I couldn't very well
force you to stay with me against your will.  Did you
want me to keep you prisoner in the bedroom?"

"No..."

"I gave you what I thought you wanted--I always have,
my love."

Julian sighed, anger abating.  "You're right.  It was
my choice.  I thought I would be happier if I ended this
relationship."

"It seems to me that you have never been entirely
certain what you really want."

"I want _you_," Bashir answered slowly.  "I can't deny
that.  Even when I told myself that we were too different
and this could never work, I couldn't just let you go.  I
had to see you--I knew I was only making you more
angry, but I kept coming back."  He smiled apologetically.
"I guess I hoped you would talk me into changing my
mind.  If you had just once said, `please'..."

This was fascinating insight into the doctor's mind.
"Is that some sort of human stratagem?  You abandon
your spouse in hopes of coaxing a declaration?"
Garak was impressed.  "Why, this is far more devious
and manipulative behavior than I ever suspected you
were capable of."

Julian started to protest, then reconsidered.  "Just don't
make me resort to it again," he said.  "I can't go through
this _twice_.  If I am ever so stupid to think I can live
without you,  please _stop_ me.  Put a phaser to my
head if you have to."

"I hope I don't need to go that far," Garak answered
as he gathered his beloved back into his arms.

Perhaps it would not last forever, but they were
together right now and Garak had every hope of being
happy for as long he could keep Julian with him. He
did not intend to let go so easily; there was too much
promise here.  In one day, he had discovered that
his sweet and gentle doctor was capable of murder,
aggressive love-making, and deceit.  He may have
selected the right mate after all.

THE END