Reconciled 
DS9-G/B-PG13
Kathryn Ramage
February 1999

-=*)]![(*=--=*)]![(*=--=*)]![(*=--=*)]![(*=-

The 6th story in the Claiming series.

Summary:  While imprisoned by the Dominion, Bashir 
attends the dying Enabran Tain and remembers how his 
relationship with Garak went wrong.

Setting: During the 5th-season episodes, "In Purgatory's 
Shadow/By Inferno's Light." Some of the dialog in 
Parts 4 and 5 is taken from these shows.  The flashback 
scenes occur just after "Explorers" and during the 
beginning of the 4th season (Warning: There is a 
bit of mild O'B/B in this one).

Rating: PG13 

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

-=*)]I[(*=-

Julian Bashir had once been Chief Medical Officer on the 
Federation-run space station Deep Space Nine, a Starfleet 
officer, a man with a place in the galaxy, friends and, at 
one time, a spouse who had adored him.  And now?  One trip 
to a burn-treatment conference had ended the life he'd 
known; he had fallen asleep in his hotel room on Mizan IV 
and awoke somewhere on the other side of the galaxy, a
prisoner of the Dominion. The Jem'Hadar First had informed
him that he was in "Internment Camp 371, from which there 
is no release, except death," but beyond that he had no 
idea where in the Gamma Quadrant he might be.  He had not 
yet surrendered all hope of escape but, since his capture 
over a month ago, he had learned just how slender his 
prospects were.  There was little hope of rescue, nor even 
reason to believe that his abduction had been noticed.  

While he was prisoner, he made alliances, if not friend-
ships, with the others who shared his quarters. He assumed 
the role of healer in a small way, and tried to treat the 
other prisoners' injuries with the few medical resources 
at his disposal.  And he served as a nursemaid to a man 
who despised him.

Barracks 6, where he, his patient, and a handful of other 
prisoners were quartered was on the side of the internment
camp farthest from the barracks which had been converted 
to storage.  The camp was not large; the distance might be
traversed in ten or fifteen minutes by walking directly
at a brisk pace, but the last thing Bashir could afford
was to look as if he were headed for this area.  Instead
of going directly, he meandered, he circled, he loitered
in the common area and the corridors connecting the barracks
where he might be observed by the security monitors or 
the Jem'Hadar guards.  It took over an hour for him to 
reach his goal, but once he had broken into the storage
compartments and gotten what he wanted, he stole swiftly 
back.  

The single tube he had taken from the stored supplies,
and carried concealed in his uniform sleeve, contained 
an ezorocaine derivative--the Dominion used this drug 
to sedate prisoners who must be subdued but kept alive 
and unmaimed, but in extremely dilute quantities, it 
could also be an effective treatment for cardiac 
diseases in certain species. Cardassians, for example.
Bashir had been planning to steal a small quantity of 
the drug for some time, as his patient's heart condition 
grew more serious, but on this particular morning, the 
need for the theft had become urgent. 

When he returned to his barracks, the Breen prisoner who
also shared the room was lying on his bunk, but the
quarters were otherwise unoccupied.  

"Where is he?" Julian asked.

The Breen gestured to the far wall.  Bashir understood; 
his patient was up again, against all medical advice, and 
working on his plans for escape.  

"I told him..."  But it was useless to complain to his
fellow-prisoner.  Bashir sighed and pulled one of the cots 
away from the wall.  He tapped the panel in a quick, coded 
rhythm before using the spanner tucked under the mattress 
to remove the panel entirely.  "Tain?" he hissed  "Are you 
in there?"  Several minutes passed before Enabran Tain 
crawled out of the confining passageway.

"I told you to lie down," Bashir said sternly.

"I have my work to complete," Tain answered without 
apology.  "You know no one else here has the skill to 
modify that archaic life-support system into something
we can use."

"Yes, I know," Bashir conceded. "But it won't get done
at all if you fall over dead of a coronary--and you
_will_, if you don't take it easy."  Tain had been
working in the crawlspace for hours every day for
as long as Bashir had been here, and long before his
arrival.  The strain had begun to tell on him.  "After 
those chest pains you had this morning, you shouldn't 
exert yourself."

Tain gave him a frosty, contemptuous smile.  "Your 
concern is touching."

The Breen got up and left them alone.  
 
Julian extracted the tube from his sleeve.  "I've 
brought you some medicine--Never mind where I got it!"  
He would spend some time in isolation if his theft were 
detected--he had been caught stealing medical supplies 
before, and punished--and he was well aware that Tain 
was not even grateful for the effort to keep him alive.  
"You're going to take it.  Now sit down and let me do 
my job."

"Contentious, to the end," Tain chuckled, but he did sit 
down.  "Your spirit never ceases to amaze me," he said
as Bashir pulled back the mattress on his own bunk to 
retrieve his hoarded medical equipment.  "In a prison 
full of Cardassians, Klingons, Romulans, Breen--any one 
of whom could snap you in half without effort, _you_ are 
the one who continually breaks the rules. They'd throw 
you in to fight the Jem'Hadar if General Martok did not 
protect you." 

Julian, concentrating on preparing the ezorocaine
solution, only replied, "I haven't managed to get hold 
of a hypospray yet. I'll have to inject this intravenously." 

Tain rolled up his tunic sleeve.  "After all these weeks 
of imprisonment, you still haven't given up, have you?"
he asked.  "You'll struggle until they kill you." 

"_You_ haven't given up either," Bashir observed. Bearing 
the makeshift syringe carefully, he knelt at Tain's side
and, when the Cardassian extended his arm, rubbed the soft 
underside of his exposed wrist to raise the major subradial 
artery. 

"I hope to live long enough to be free of this asteroid
and see Cardassia again," Tain answered.  "I stopped
fighting against our captors long ago.  It is a futile
exercise--it only amuses them, and weakens us."

"Well, I'm afraid I can't see it that way.  I can't let
them beat me--not yet, anyway."  He knew that the minute
he stopped fighting would be the minute when he truly
gave up all hope.

Tain watched impassively as the needle slid into his arm.   
As Bashir injected the solution, the elderly Cardassian 
said, "I used to wonder what Garak found so fascinating 
about you, but I'm beginning to see your appeal."

If anyone else had said this, Julian would have taken it 
as a compliment, but he only held his breath, withdrew 
the needle, and waited.

"Do you think he's coming to rescue you?"

"No," Bashir answered. "No, I don't."

"You must miss him terribly."

"Yes, I do."

"Do you ever wonder how your replacement is getting along 
with your husband?" Tain asked.  "Do you think he even 
notices the difference?"

*Oh, you can't hurt me that way,* Julian thought, and moved
away from the old man.  *Elim was barely speaking to me when 
I was kidnapped.  Whatever the changeling is up to on the 
station, his relationship with Garak is the least of my 
worries--but I won't let you know that, you spiteful old 
bastard!  As far as you're concerned, Garak and I were 
deliriously happy and I'll never, _never_ give you the 
satisfaction of knowing that we separated.*

-=*)]II[(*=-

Julian had always known that he was married to 
an extremely possessive man, but he'd believed that 
as long as he gave Elim no reason to doubt him, 
he had no reason to worry.  It was easy to overlook 
the first signs of his mate's suspicions over his 
friendship with Chief O'Brien--the half-joking 
remarks about the frequency of their racquetball games 
and Julian's spending so much time alone with another 
man while wearing so revealing a costume. Julian had 
laughed it off, just as he laughed when Elim teased 
him about his old infatuation with Dax or his dates 
with Quark's Dabo girls.  True, he _had_ stopped 
playing racquetball with Miles--not because he'd 
taken Elim's jokes seriously, but because he was 
newly married and eager to please. 

His obedience had been an issue since the beginning
of their marriage--and also a reason for its dissolution.
A Cardassian male, even one as unconventional as Garak, 
expected his mate's deference as his natural due, but 
Bashir had not found it easy to submit.  They'd only 
achieved an acceptable balance after a long process of 
arguments and negotiations: Garak had agreed not to give 
him orders unless it was important, and Julian had agreed 
to obey under those circumstances.  

This agreement was rarely tested, but Julian he knew his 
spouse well enough to see that Elim enjoyed exercising 
the traditional authority of a Cardassian husband--and 
it was not lost on him that Garak found his acts of 
domestic obeisance arousing.  In spite of his periodic 
rebellions, Julian did want to make Elim happy; it cost 
him nothing to wear the clothes Elim wanted to see him 
in and to let the decor of their quarters take on a 
Cardassian theme.  If he argued with his mate, it was 
always on abstract, intellectual topics like philosophy 
and literature, since Elim enjoyed this kind of debate, 
and he used the tone which a Cardassian would recognize 
as one of courtship-flirtation. These little concessions 
made their home life run more smoothly, and made their 
sex life more exciting.  He received fewer commands, 
but he submitted more often.

Although he'd given up his racquetball games long before
their most critical conflicts on the subject, he'd done  
so in the same spirit of pleasing his mate. Elim couldn't 
object to darts; he didn't approve of Julian's spending 
so many evenings in Quark's, but he could no longer 
complain about Julian's costumes.  He continued to 
observe Julian's friendship with O'Brien warily as they 
grew closer during the months that Keiko was away. 

Julian only realized the depth of Elim's jealousy when 
he made the mistake of telling his spouse what Miles 
had said to him one evening during a heavy drinking 
session in O'Brien's quarters.

"He told me that people either love me or hate me, 
and that he...doesn't hate me," Julian reported with 
amusement while Garak treated his hangover the next 
morning.  Garak had sat up waiting for him and, when 
he'd staggered in after 2500, put him to bed without
rebuke.  Now, he listened to Julian's story of how
he'd spent half the night, and did not interrupt him 
with scoldings, but he became more and more solemn 
at Julian's cheerful words.   

"Well, _I_ thought it was sweet," Julian concluded.  
"You remember how he barely put up with me when we 
first came to DS9?"
 
"Yes, I remember," Garak answered. After considering
Bashir for a moment, he added, "You are aware that he 
wants you?"

This unexpected remark made Julian laugh in disbelief. 
"Elim, I don't think that's what he meant."

"I think that's exactly what he meant," Garak replied 
darkly, "whether he admits it to himself or not."

"You're not serious..."  It was then that he realized
that, yes, Elim was quite serious.  "Are you saying 
you think that something's going on between Miles and 
me?"

"No. Not yet."

"And nothing will," Julian tried to reassure him. "Miles 
is only a friend. He's married, and he loves Keiko.  
He'd never do anything to threaten that." Then, trying 
to relieve the tense situation, he added in a lighter,
teasing tone, "I thought you were worried that you'd 
lose me to a woman?"

"I did once believe that you missed that part of your 
life you had given up for me," Garak admitted, "but your 
relationship with Chief O'Brien...troubles me more. It 
is too much a parallel of our own before our marriage.
He has served you as a mentor and father-substitute.
You socialize with him frequently, have your meals
with him at Quark's whenever we are not able to meet.
He is the man in your life most like myself--except 
that _he_ is human."

Bashir still found it hard to believe what he was hearing.
"Elim, this is silly.  You have nothing to be afraid
of. I married _you_. Twice. After we've both fought so 
hard to keep this marriage together, do you think I'd 
throw it all away?" He hesitated, then ventured, "Do 
you want me to stop seeing him?"

"I can't ask that of you.  You work with Chief O'Brien
every day and must come into contact with him.  That
cannot be prevented," Garak had answered after studying
him intently, seeing how much of a struggle it had been
for him to make this offer, and how much he dreaded its
being accepted.  "But it would put me more at ease if 
you didn't spend so much of your free time in his 
company."

Julian nodded.  "Yes, Elim."

He _had_ tried to keep his distance from Miles; for 
awhile, he'd even made a point of being home before 
Elim whenever his duties did not intervene.  But he 
couldn't reject his friend either; if he avoided 
Miles too often, it would not only hurt his feelings, 
but it would prompt questions from Miles that he was 
reluctant to answer.  How could he possibly explain 
why Garak was jealous without embarrassing them both?  
So, he had gone on seeing Miles socially--infrequently, 
at first, ask Garak had requested, but more often 
after O'Brien's marriage began to show signs of trouble.

As the situation with the Dominion grew more intense
and the Federation's war with the Klingons began, Keiko
traveled less often from Bajor to visit her husband,
but she contacted Miles regularly.  And, after each 
of their subspace quarrels, Julian was there to listen
to his friend's side of the story and, usually, to get 
very drunk.  To avoid worrying Elim, they rarely went 
to O'Brien's quarters, but there had been an evening or
two when they'd closed down Quark's.  Garak didn't 
like this, but he did not demand that Julian stop. 
Through it all, he continued to wait up to put Julian 
to bed, and he never spoke one word of his disapproval.  

Then, one evening as Bashir ended his duty shift and
returned to his quarters, Miles called him on the 
station intercom.  

"She's left me, Julian."

"I'll be right there." Bashir told him in the same tone 
which he used when addressing medical emergencies, and 
broke off the connection. He turned from the computer, 
intending to tell Garak that he wasn't going to be home 
for dinner, and found him standing in the bedroom doorway.

"That was Chief O'Brien?" Garak asked.

"I'm going to sit with him for awhile," he answered. 
"It's an emergency."

"I don't want you to go."

"Elim, his wife just left him!"

"Well, he can't have you as a replacement."

"He's not going to 'have' me.  I'm just going to keep 
him company, drink with him, be his friend.  He needs a 
friend at a time like this."  Julian had been expecting 
to see signs of his mate's jealousy come up again, but 
he couldn't believe what Garak was actually saying. "Do 
you trust me so little, Elim--you're really afraid I'll 
betray you for Miles?

"I think that you are an impulsive creature," Garak
answered carefully.  "You are too compassionate for 
your own good and I am afraid that in trying to comfort 
your friend, you will end up doing something very 
foolish."

"That's not going to happen. You'll have to take my word 
it."

"Julian, _don't go_."  He knew that tone; Garak expected 
to be obeyed.

But here, Bashir drew the line.  There were limits to
his obedience, and Garak would have to learn what these
were.  "Elim, he's my friend.  He needs me.  I'll be 
back in a couple of hours--Don't wait up."

He went.

-=*)]III[(*=-

"Earth!  Can you believe she's goin' all the way home 
to Earth?"  Miles struggled out of the armchair where 
he had flung himself and, unsteady on his feet, headed 
toward the bottle set on the coffee table. They'd
begun drinking as soon as Julian had come in, and had
gone on steadily while Miles told him the story in
emotional bursts between glasses. Julian had heard most
of the details by this time: Keiko had arrived on the 
afternoon transport from Bajor, and had only stopped 
at DS9 long enough to pick up some of hers and Molly's 
things and to tell Miles good-bye; she had gone on the 
next Earth transport.

"Another drink?" Miles asked him.

Bashir, slumped back on the sofa, held out his tumbler.  

O'Brien picked up the bottle and found it nearly empty.  
He dribbled the last drops of whiskey into his own 
glass and gulped them down before he navigated his way 
around the furniture to reach the liquor cabinet behind 
the sofa.

Julian arched his neck over the cushions to watch his 
friend lower himself to one knee with care and unlock 
the cabinet.  "There's absolutely no chance for a 
reconciliation?" 

Miles shook his head as he retrieved another whiskey
bottle.  "Keiko made it clear she'd given up on us.  
She said she didn't want to bring up her children on 
this space station, so close to danger."  He poured 
out another drink for himself first.  "If I wanted to 
stay here, she didn't care--'You have your life, Miles,' 
she said.  'Let me have mine.'  She wouldn't come back 
if I begged her.  It's over."

He leaned on the back of the sofa and took Bashir by 
the wrist to hold his glass steady.  As he refilled 
the glass, his other arm went around Julian's collar 
and his whiskey-flavored breath was warm on the 
doctor's cheek.  The gesture was so familiar--Elim 
had hugged him like this a thousand times--that 
Julian half-expected his friend to nip him lightly 
just below the ear the way his mate did.

But Miles righted himself to walk around the sofa,
then flopped down at the far end.  "I'm glad you're
here, Julian," he said after tasting his drink and 
focusing his eyes upon Bashir.  "I don't know what 
I'd do without you--you're always here when I need 
you."

Julian regarded him questioningly.

"I didn't want to see her go to Bajor, but I let her 
go. I encouraged it, because I could see how she wasn't 
happy living here.  I thought it would help to keep us
together, `n' instead the whole thing's blow up in my 
face. You're lucky, Julian--You don't know what it's 
like to work so hard on a marriage."

"I'm married too, Miles.  You attended my wedding, 
remember?  My second, Federation ceremony.  You and
Keiko sent us a lovely gift."

Miles snorted.  "Keiko picked it out." Then he 
asked delicately, "Don't you miss it? Being with 
women?  Being- ah- with one of your own species?"

"I was never that successful with women." That was 
something he could never have confessed prior to his 
marriage.  "The only thing I've really given up is 
awkwardness and embarrassment and being hurt each 
time it didn't work out.  I was never happy with 
anyone else like this before."

"If you don't mind my asking--what d'you _see_ in him?"

"He loves me," Julian answered simply.

Miles stared at him.

"You don't believe it, do you?"

"Oh, I believe it," O'Brien answered.  Then, after 
a moment, he said, "D'you remember your birthday party 
last year?  It was just after you'd left him--you were 
going to get a divorce, and then you went back to him 
after all.  You were so happy I couldn't stand it.  You 
were wearing a blue shirt he made for you, with gold 
spangly things all over it.  You could see straight 
through the silk when you stood in the light.  You were 
all over the room, talking to everyone, laughing, being 
so bloody charming, and Garak was sitting back by the 
windows, watching you. He was so _proud_ of you--I could 
see it in his eyes.  God, I hated him for it."

"Miles," Julian sat up, surprised.  "Why?"

"I was _glad_ when you left him," Miles told him.  
"I wanted you safely out of his hands--I kept an eye 
on you since you got married, knowing what was going 
to happen. He'd hurt you, I was certain of it.  Bloody 
Cardie." He gulped the rest of his drink.  "Supposed to 
be sadistic. He's tortured people--you know that, Julian.  
Tortured Odo.  I was ready to rescue you at the first 
sign of trouble, but he's never hurt you, has he?" 

"Never," Bashir replied.  

"Bastard." 

"You _wanted_ him to hurt me?"

"I wanted to rescue you," Miles admitted.

Julian sat back, head spinning with more than the 
beginnings of drunkenness.  He thought of the last 
time he had sprawled on Miles's couch like this, when 
his friend had made a similar declaration.  He thought 
of that incident in the Gamma Quadrant a few weeks ago, 
of how protective Miles had been of him while they were 
prisoners of the Jem'Hadar.  And what was he to make of 
that remark Miles had made in the runabout about Keiko 
not understanding him--the unfinished, "Why can't she 
be more like..."  At the time, Julian had teased him, 
suggesting "more like a man?" but even then he'd known 
that O'Brien was about to say "more like _you_?"

Garak had been right.
 
He turned his head to glance at Miles, who looked 
uncomfortable and a little frightened after this 
confession; he decided that, rather than embarrass 
Miles--or perhaps even encourage him--by probing into 
these feelings, the best thing to do was to overlook it.

He reached for the newly opened bottle of whiskey on
the table. "It seems to me that _you_ could use rescuing 
more than I do, my friend," Julian said playfully, as if 
he had not understood.  And he poured Miles another drink.   

He thought he'd handled the situation appropriately,
with maturity and sophistication.  His marriage was not
threatened; his friendship was not damaged.  He was in
no danger.  He'd never thought of leaving Miles alone 
on that night.

Hours passed. Julian listened to his friend go on about 
Keiko and made sympathetic noises at intervals, and they 
emptied their glasses to fill them again.  As they made 
their way through the second bottle, the conversation lost
all coherence and his perceptions began to blur.  Julian 
had no idea when he had fallen asleep, but he woke abruptly 
as a wrenching snore from Miles tore through his skull.  

He opened his eyes to a painfully bright room and found 
himself lying on the floor, wedged into the gap between 
the sofa and coffee table.  Miles lay half on him, head 
on his chest and drooling a little on the front of his
tunic.  His hand fell on the back of O'Brien's head and 
he ruffled the curls absently while he shifted to struggle 
free of the dead weight pinning him.  He tried to think 
how they had gotten here.  The last thing he remembered, 
they had been laughing hysterically at something--he 
couldn't recall what--and had collapsed against each 
other.  Had they fallen off the sofa?  Had they-?  No.  
One glance verified that his clothing was still fastened. 

His squirming had awakened Miles, who lifted his head
and mumbled, "Time mizzit?"  

"Don't know," Julian answered. "Computer? Time?"

<<<The time is 0342 hours.>>>

"Damn!" He shoved Miles off--the Chief made a soft 
_Ooof_! sound as his back struck the edge of the coffee 
table, but he moved to one side to allow Julian to 
scramble to his feet.  "Elim will kill me!"

He was still drunk as he made his way back to his own 
quarters; he lost his balance once or twice as he ran 
down the curving corridors and blundered into the 
support beams jutting from the walls.  He reached the 
door to his quarters out of breath, heart pounding, 
and head in a sickening, dizzy muddle.  

As he fumbled with the passcode, the door slid open.

Garak stood there in his pajamas and robe, but he did 
not look as if he had dragged himself out of bed to
let his mate in.  He was wide awake, the lights in the 
living area were on, and a datapadd lay on the chair 
where the tailor usually sat.  He had been waiting.

"Elim, I'm so sorry," Julian began.  "I never meant 
to stay out this late..."  

Garak listened to his babble of explanations and 
apologies without saying a word, and then took him 
by the shoulders.  He pressed cheek to cheek as if he 
meant to deliver a kiss, though there was no contact, 
then shoved Julian back roughly.

"You smell of _him_," he announced.  "He's all over 
you. Julian, what have you done?"

"Nothing!  We fell asleep together, that's all."

"You expect me to believe that?" Garak snapped in
reply.  "You've spent most of the night with him--
You've been with him, haven't you?"

"No!" Julian insisted, but Garak went on in spite 
of this denial.

"I _warned_ you, but you refused to heed my advice.  
You had to defy me--to betray me!"  The Cardassian had 
begun to pace angrily.  "But must you lie about it now 
that it's done? Julian, tell me the truth!"

"It is the truth! Elim-" He reached out tentatively,
and Garak whirled to seize his arm--a painful wrench 
that forced him to cry out as much from shock at the 
brutality as the pain.  

"I want to know what you did," Garak said.  "No 
excuses.  No more lies."

"Elim, I haven't done anything with Miles.  Please-" 
He froze at the look in Garak's eyes: Hurt, furious, 
and blood-chillingly icy.  There was nothing of the 
man he loved in that forbidding gaze, no tenderness, 
no sympathy.  Garak believed beyond a doubt that he 
had been unfaithful.  

Julian shrank back, truly afraid of his spouse for 
the first time.

Garak released him.  "If you have nothing else to say,
I think you had better go now, Julian," he spoke with 
a quiet but unmistakable note of menace. "Perhaps Chief 
O'Brien will take you back into his bed for the rest 
the night--I don't want you in mine."

Julian stepped backwards toward the door, then turned
and ran, grateful for his life.

He didn't know how fast he had run, how long it had
taken--he was back at Miles's door.  He chimed, then 
pounded, to wake his friend.  When O'Brien, blearily 
half-awake, finally answered, Julian explained what 
had happened in bursts of frightened words.

"He kicked you out?" asked Miles.  "Didn't you tell 
him nothing- er- nothing happened?"

"He didn't believe me.  He wouldn't listen.  He's 
never scared me like this before."  In spite of all 
the rumors and stories he had heard about Garak's past, 
Julian had never really seen that side of his mate; 
that night had disclosed a terrifying glimpse of all 
the secrets he had vowed not to ask about, the things 
he didn't want to know about Garak. He'd seen what Elim 
must have been like as an assassin--quiet, ruthless, 
and deadly cold.  "I thought he was going to kill me."

"The bastard!" Miles said in sympathy.

"Can I stay here until we work things out?"

"I'll make up the bed in Molly's room for you." O'Brien 
sat down and picked up the bottle left on the table; he 
swirled the remaining whiskey judiciously, then filled 
the glasses.  "We'll be all right, Julian," he said as 
he offered one. "We'll take care of each other."

-=*)]IV[(*=-

He couldn't blame Miles.  He couldn't even blame Elim
completely.  He'd made his own choices: He'd defied 
his spouse; he'd stayed the whole night.  And after 
Elim had kicked him out, he'd made the decision to 
stay with Miles. 

He'd originally planned to stay only one night. Later 
that same morning, when he was more coherent and able 
to defend himself, he'd braved the tailor's shop to 
try to talk to Garak again; Elim ignored his repeated
protests of innocence and then told him bluntly to 
"go, before I do something I will regret."  Then Garak 
had gone back to their quarters, meticulously packed 
all of Julian's things, and sent them to O'Brien.  

Bashir had not given up then; he wasn't the type to 
surrender easily.  He'd tried again every day after that, 
if not confronting Garak in person, then with verbal or 
written messages, which were always returned unopened.  
He only stopped when he realized that Garak was playing 
his old role of master inquisitor; he wanted Julian to 
confess his infidelity and beg for forgiveness before he 
would take him back.  He would accept nothing else--but 
confessing was the one thing Bashir refused to do.  He 
would not confirm Garak's worst suspicions. He was hurt
and angry now too; he did not intend to lie, crawl, and 
beg if that damned, stubborn Cardassian didn't believe 
the truth when he heard it. 

He'd hadn't meant to stay on with O'Brien for so long. 
Each day, he hoped that he would be able to settle things 
with his spouse and did not request new quarters of his
own.  By the time he had given up, it was too late; he'd
been with Miles for nearly two weeks and it looked as 
if he had moved in.  

Garak was not the only one to believe he was having 
an affair with his friend.  Gossip was rampant around 
the station.  

Captain Sisko had dropped by O'Brien's quarters one 
evening to find Miles out, but Julian in and preparing
for dinner.  

"The Chief isn't home yet," Julian informed him.  
"He said he'd be a little late tonight--there's a 
malfunctioning plasma conduit valve in one of the 
upper pylons.  Would you like to wait?"

"I believe I'll do that." Sisko didn't sit down, but
wandered around the living area, looked out of the
windows, and finally stood and watched Julian set the 
table.  "It looks like you've made yourself at home, 
Doctor," he observed cautiously.  "I've heard some...
unusual stories lately.  You've been spending a lot of 
time with Chief O'Brien since Keiko left.  Garak's 
sent your belongings here." 

Julian looked up at the words, realizing that Sisko 
had come to verify the truth behind the rumors.

"I hope you know what you're doing," the captain said. 

"Sir, it's not what you think," Bashir tried to explain.  
He knew his commander had taken an interest in his 
marriage to Garak from its very first days, and 
disapproved of what he thought he saw now.  "We're 
going through a difficult time, both of us.  Elim and 
I have been having a few problems, and Miles has been 
kind enough to let me stay on until I can-."  

The door whisked open and O'Brien came in.  He looked
from the captain to Julian.   "Uh- sir, is there 
something wrong?"

"No, not at all," Sisko smiled.  "I dropped by to 
invite you to dinner.  I thought with Keiko gone, you 
wouldn't like to be alone."  He threw a quick glance
at the doctor.  "But I guess you won't be."

Miles's mouth popped open.

"Perhaps tomorrow night, both of you?"

"Uh- Yeah, I'd- We'd be happy to. Tomorrow, sir."

Once Sisko had gone, Miles whirled on him immediately.
"What the hell did you tell him?"

"He didn't need me to tell him anything," Julian answered.
"It's all over the station about us, you know.  They all
assume I've abandoned Elim for you."

Evidently, Miles hadn't known, for he turned bright red 
at the news.  "Bloody hell!  _Everyone_?" 

Julian nodded. 

Miles had to sit down on the couch.  "Jesus."

At least, Sisko did not interfere in their personal lives. 
Dax did try to intervene and offered reams of useless
advice; Odo was curt whenever he had to speak to either 
Bashir or O'Brien, and Quark's cheerfully leering innuendo 
eventually drove them out of the bar.  Even Kira had 
confronted him one day: "I never thought I'd say this, 
but you're being awful to Garak. Whatever else he is, he 
*adored* you, Doctor."  

And although Garak refused to speak to him, Bashir was 
often aware that he was being watched when he was out 
on the Promenade, particularly when O'Brien was with him.

Everyone believed that he and Miles were lovers, but the 
truth of the matter was that, during those weeks, he'd 
slept on the sofa.  The bed in Molly's room was too small.

It would have happened eventually, Bashir was certain: 
they were both lonely and heart-sick, dazed by the abrupt 
dissolution of their respective marriages. They had 
no one to turn to for comfort except each other.  Once 
he'd gotten past his first embarrassment at the suspicions 
surrounding them, O'Brien had become defiantly indifferent 
to the gossip.  He never suggested that it might be better 
if Julian left. In all the time they'd lived together, he'd 
never crossed the bounds of friendship by one word or touch
--though both were careful not to get drunk on real alcohol 
anymore--but more than once as they'd settled down for the 
night, Miles had paused at the door between his bedroom and 
the living area and stared at Julian for a moment or two 
before shutting off the lights and going to sleep. Julian 
knew what his friend was contemplating, and knew that it 
would only be a matter of time before he got into Miles's bed.

And as the weeks had gone on, Julian began to consider 
the prospect of making a life with his friend.  He was 
tired of being punished for something he hadn't done.  If 
Garak didn't take him back, he had to think about finding 
someone else with whom he might be happy: What better 
candidate was there?  Just a few years ago, this move 
would have been unimaginable to him, but after marriage 
to one man, a relationship with another seemed the most 
comfortable, reasonable transition.  

Then Keiko had announced she was coming back to DS9.

"She just wants to talk," said Miles.  "We have some 
business to settle, that's all."

They had ventured back into Quark's Place to wait for the 
passengers to disembark from the transport that had just 
arrived from Earth.  

Keiko's message to Miles had come as a devastating 
surprise: she was pregnant.  This had been her primary 
reason for returning to Earth, but her retreat had also 
given her time to think.  She told Miles that she had 
realized it was unfair to Molly and her unborn son to 
have them grow up away from their father.  Some sort of 
joint-custody arrangement had to be made.

"It doesn't mean anything," O'Brien continued.  "I'm
sure she doesn't plan to come back here permanently.  
This doesn't change anything for you and me."

Although they had not discussed where their relationship 
was headed, Miles's attitude that day implied that once 
he had squared things with Keiko and considered himself 
a free man, they would talk.  

"Even if she _does_ want to come back," Miles insisted, 
"do you think I'd have her?  After the way she's treated 
me?  Off without a word about _my_ son.  Was she planning 
that I'd never see him?  Or my Molly? What kind of woman-"

The gear-shaped door rolled back and the first passengers 
from the transport streamed onto the Promenade.  Miles 
watched the first wave with anxious intensity.  Eventually, 
Keiko came into sight.  When she saw them, she beamed.

Miles patted Julian's hand and gave him an apologetic 
smile, then went to her.  

Julian sat perfectly still; he was aware that the moment 
had not been lost on anyone around him.  Sisko and Dax were 
out on the Promenade with pity in their eyes.  The Starfleet 
and Bajoran personnel whispered at the tables behind him.  
As Quark paused to pick up O'Brien's empty glass and put 
down a fresh drink for Bashir, he gave him a sympathetic 
shrug.

Miles and Keiko stood in the middle of the Promenade, 
arms about each other as if they would never let go.

Numbly, Julian reached for his drink, and hoped he 
wouldn't spill it and make a bigger fool of himself. He 
didn't mind that everyone thought he had been Miles's 
lover.  He didn't even mind them believing that they had 
broken up.  But did this scene have to be so _public_?

By the time Miles and Keiko went off to their quarters, 
arms still around each other, most of the crowd had lost 
interest in this drama and had gone back to their own 
business.  However, as Julian left the bar, wondering 
where he was going to sleep tonight, he had that old,
familiar sensation that someone was still watching him.

He looked over his shoulder to find Garak standing
just outside Quark's; Elim must have seen everything. 

Their eyes met.  The tailor's expression was unreadable.  
When Julian took a few tentative steps toward him, Garak 
turned abruptly on his heel and walked away.  Julian
didn't try to follow.  He knew then that it was truly
over.

That night, he went to his quarters on the Defiant, 
curled up on his bunk and sobbed until his throat was 
raw and his chest ached.

-=*)]V[(*=-

After this, there was nothing to do but pick up the 
pieces of his old, premarital life.  He moved into 
his own quarters, worked in the Infirmary every day,
and occasionally made dinner dates although he spent 
his nights alone.

He resumed normal relations with the station's crew. 
They all thought he had behaved foolishly, but that 
he'd paid for his infidelity.  Their sympathy, however, 
remained with Garak, as the one person involved who 
looked entirely blameless; the tailor had never been 
more well-received about the station.  With Miles, 
Julian continued the motions of friendship, ironically
urged on by Keiko, who either hadn't heard or chose to 
ignore the gossip.  Eventually, the awkwardness faded.  
After all, they had not done anything to feel guilty 
about--although, after Miles and Keiko were reconciled
and Garak still held him away with cool reserve, Julian
regretted this.  

And Garak?  Just as they had begun to be cordial, if
impersonal, with each other and Bashir believed that 
even if their marriage was over, they could at least be 
civilized, the tailor had nearly incinerated a planet 
which Bashir had been on.  He'd spent six months in 
prison for this, and emerged without ever offering an
apology or explanation; however, since Garak had acted 
in response to the Founders' announcement that Tain 
was dead, Julian thought he understood his ex-mate's
motivations.  At the time of Julian's abduction, 
Garak was engaged in some sort of relationship with 
the half-Bajoran daughter of Dukat--Julian didn't 
dare to speculate on what kind of relationship it was. 
As much as it disturbed him, he firmly told himself 
it was none of his business.

They were still legally married.  Garak may have performed 
some informal Cardassian ritual to dissolve their claiming 
of each other, but he had never filed for divorce. Bashir
didn't know what to make of this.  Did Garak not feel he 
had the right to initiate proceedings against a Federation 
citizen?  Or was he simply waiting for Julian to take that 
step?  Although they were on speaking terms, Garak refused 
to discuss personal matters.  The tailor seemed determined 
to pretend that they had never meant a thing to each other
--and if _that_ was the attitude he was going to take, then 
Julian was determined to take it too.  After so many months, 
he had become resentful of the suspicion and jealousy which 
had ruined their marriage; even before Garak had tried to
destroy the Founders, Julian had found it difficult to 
speak to his estranged husband without being snappish or 
bitchy.  

He had gone to the burn treatment seminar on Mizan IV
chiefly to get away from DS9 for awhile.  It had almost 
been a relief when the Dominion had captured him.  

-=*)]VI[(*=-

In spite of Bashir's repeated advice, Tain continued 
to work at the same intense pace; if anything, he spent 
even more hours each day within the barrack wall and  
Bashir could only see that he received his medicine. 
At last, the collapse he had been predicting occurred.

"How satisfying this must be for you," said Tain. With
the help of a few of their barrack-mates, Bashir had
extracted Tain from the narrow crawlspace within the 
wall and lay him on his bed.  Bashir had managed to 
stabilize the elderly Cardassian's vital signs and, 
after some effort, brought him back to consciousness.  

"Hm?" Julian was preparing another injection of the 
ezorocaine derivative; he could keep Tain alive for
awhile longer, but the end was approaching and both of 
them knew it.

"You were right--I should have worked more slowly. You
said I would fall over dead if I kept it up.  It must 
give you great satisfaction to be able to say 'I told 
you so.'"  Tain reached up to pat his arm.  "You'll be 
glad to witness my death, won't you?."

"I'm a doctor," Bashir answered distantly.  "I never want 
to see a patient die."  The words were automatic.  For 
once, he didn't feel them.

Tain chuckled.  "You hate me as thoroughly as I hate you, 
and yet you work to keep me alive.  Anyone else in your 
position would have stood by and laughed as they watched 
me die in agony, but not you.  Soft, weak, sentimental 
little human.

"Do you know, I think about you and him.  It holds a 
repulsive fascination for me.  Your soft flesh in his 
hands.  How he must have bruised you.  Did you thrill 
to that touch, Bashir?  Or did you stifle your whimpers 
and suffer for his love?" Tain snorted contemptuously.  
"What a despicable creature you are--Garak's Federation 
whore.  I thought a thousand times of killing you, 
knowing how it would crush him. I could take away the 
one thing he had to cherish in his exile."

"But you never did."

"Who do you think ordered Entek to abduct you?"

*I hate him! I hate him! I hate him!* Bashir thought, but 
he kept an indifferent expression frozen on his face and  
replied evenly, "You told Garak you had nothing to do 
with that."

"Your release.  Your 'marriage.'  No.  Entek was supposed 
to torture you to death, and torture Garak with the thought 
of it for the rest of his life.  I don't know where that 
option for your release came from, but Entek paid for his 
error in judgment."

"So you claim responsibility for that too?" But Bashir 
was skeptical now.  Tain was only saying these things to 
hurt him.

"In my prime, I was responsible for everything that went
on in the Order," Tain answered cryptically.

"That was a long time ago," Julian responded as he injected
the ezorocaine.  He expected Tain to take offense at this 
provocative remark, but the old man merely smiled.

"And now I am a feeble, toothless old feracat to be nursed 
through its last days, hm? I wonder, Bashir, if you're 
really as dedicated to your Federation medical ethics as 
you claim, or if this is your own idea of suitable revenge?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"Don't you?" Tain laughed softly again.  "Your devotion 
hasn't gone unappreciated, Bashir. I've done something..."

"What?" Julian asked warily.

"Not for you, but it will make you happy."  Tain's 
voice still rumbled with amusement.  "My work on the 
old environmental system was successful.  I managed 
to finish... I've sent my message.  Garak is coming."

Bashir stared down at his patient in blank surprise. 
Even the sound of footsteps pounding down the corridor 
outside did not prompt him to move; he was still holding 
the hypodermic syringe when the Jem'Hadar guard burst in.  

-=*)]VII[(*=-

They tossed him into Solitary as punishment for the theft 
of medical equipment and restricted drugs.  Bashir had 
been shut up in the same small, bare cell before, but this 
time he had more important matters to concern him than the
frustration of a few days in close confinement.  Tain's 
final words had left him thrilled with an excitement that 
was more than the simple prospect of escape.

Garak was coming!  Could it be true, or was this one 
last lie from a spiteful, dying old man?  Julian wanted
so much to believe it.  He scarcely dared to hope...
and yet he did hope.  

As he sat alone in his cell in the days that followed, 
his mind turned again and again to the possibility.  He 
began to speculate on how long it would take Tain's 
message to reach DS9, and how long it might be before 
Garak was able to reach this place. One week?  Two?  
Another month?  If he had any idea of _where_ this 
asteroid was, Bashir would have worked out calculations.

And as he began to anticipate Garak's arrival, he also
thought about the relationship they had once had.  He had 
plenty of time to arrange his memories. He went backwards 
from that disastrous ending, through all the struggles 
they'd endured to make their marriage work--with his 
parents, with Tain and Garak's past, with their own 
differences--until he arrived at the beginning.  He 
remembered that first night, when he had sat on Garak's 
knees while they discussed their future. 

"I want you understand what you're getting into," Elim 
had warned him.  "This is no mere romp.  If I take you 
tonight, we will be pair-bonded by Cardassia's most
ancient laws and customs.  I will consider you mine.  
Are you prepared to accept that?"

He'd responded immediately, "Yes, I'm ready."  It had
been an act of impulse, but he didn't regret it after 
the words were spoken.  He had climbed off Garak's 
lap and held out a hand to lead him into the bedroom.

Julian remembered his fumbling eagerness, how his hands
had trembled as he pulled off his boots and, with Garak's
assistance, unfastened his uniform.  He remembered his 
sudden shyness as he settled back on the pillows, clutching 
the bedsheet, debating whether or not to cover himself, and 
watched Garak undressing at the foot of the bed. He tried 
not to stare; the full significance of what he proposed to
do tonight struck him.  How could he give himself to this 
man, whom he didn't really know--and not merely for this 
one night, but for every night after this?  Married.  How 
could he possibly know what that meant to a Cardassian?  
What if-?  

Garak glanced up, and their eyes met.  Julian gave him a 
small, nervous smile and was about to make a joke about 
feeling like a bride on the wedding night--when it occurred
to him that, for all intents and purposes, that was what 
he was. 

And, as Garak had looked at him, an unfamiliar expression 
crossed the tailor's face--a softer, unguarded, wistful 
look--and in his eyes, Julian saw wonder and an intense 
longing that made him feel timid all over again. He realized 
that _he_ was something Garak had desired for a long time, 
but never hoped to have.  

"You're quite sure, TeHua?"

Julian, still clutching the sheets, nodded.  "It's what I 
want." 

Garak had crawled up the length of the bed to kiss him, 
then again with more urgency as he eased him down onto 
the mattress and tried to turn him over.  Elim spoke 
softly to him, told him not to be afraid, to relax. 

He remembered his first bout of panic.

The weight of the body pressing down on him was gone the
instant he began to struggle, and then Garak had picked him
up, soothed him with more whispering words.  Julian still 
recalled the way the tailor's fingers had traced the scars 
on his back as he questioned him about his abduction and 
torture by the Obsidian Order.  Julian had answered, no, he 
hadn't been raped; that wasn't what had upset him.  It was 
only the memory of the threat.  That word, 'relax.'

Garak had assured him that they need not fully consummate 
their bond right away if he was not ready; there were other 
ways they could please each other. But Julian had insisted.  
He wanted to make this commitment. It didn't really count 
until he gave himself completely.    

At that time, he had expected it to be more of a technical 
necessity than an act of pleasure, but Elim had been so 
gentle, so patient in weathering his fears.  Perhaps it 
hadn't been exciting in the way it would be later, once 
they had learned more about each other, but they had 
revealed something within themselves that first time.  He 
had opened his heart to someone who was still basically a 
stranger, and he'd discovered a side of Garak--of Elim--
he'd never guessed existed.  He'd found someone who was 
capable of loving him with such surprising tenderness--
he almost wept now at the memory of it.

That night had divided his life into _before_ and _after_
--the event which, once occurring, meant that he could never 
be the same afterwards.  He hadn't felt like that when he'd 
lost his virginity years before; that event had not altered 
his world.  But then he had not really surrendered himself 
in any important way.  He and the girl were not seriously 
in love.  They'd made no commitment. That initial experience 
had not touched him so deeply as his first night with Elim, 
when he had pledged the rest of his life to a man who would 
not take his promise lightly.  This was meant to bind them 
together forever.

It had barely lasted a year and a half.

After they'd made love, he lay curled with his head on his 
lover's chest, lulled to drowsiness by that slower-than-human 
heartbeat but unable to fall asleep.  He had asked playfully, 
"So you're my husband now?"  The word made Garak laugh, and
thereafter he used it regularly, as a private joke between
them.

He had never, however, referred to himself as a wife.  
That was beyond a joke.  But hadn't he played that role
under Garak's domination?  He'd always been the passive
partner in their relationship--it had never occurred to 
him to want it any other way.  And after his marriage
had ended, he'd gone on playing the same role with Miles 
as if it were the most natural thing.

As he'd put his life back together after the disaster, he 
tried to reassert his wayward masculinity by dating the 
Dabo girl at Quark's who had shown him so much solicitous 
attention months before.  After a few abortive dates, she'd 
left him for Rom, to complete his humiliation.

He'd been alone since.  And while he couldn't honestly say 
he was happy, he had grown accustomed to his loneliness.  It 
had given him a new sense of self-reliance and had enabled 
him to cope with this imprisonment, which would have shattered 
him a year earlier.

If Tain had not lied, Garak might be here in a matter of 
days.  They might be facing each other very soon.  What was 
he going to say when he saw Garak again?

As eager as he was to see Elim, did he want to be with 
him again after all this time?  He didn't regret the 
marriage--he missed the life they'd had together and if 
it had not been disrupted, they would probably have gone 
on comfortably for many years--but they couldn't go back 
to what they had been two years ago. Too much had happened. 
He had changed, grown up, since they'd separated.  He 
thought he understood himself, and understood Elim, a 
little better now.

Could he be certain that Garak still wanted _him_?  He
believed that Elim had truly loved him once; it was 
possible that he might still.  But perhaps the tailor 
was happier with Ziyal's company.  The girl had already 
taken up the role of adoring pupil to Garak's mentoring, 
just as he had done years ago and, unlike himself, she 
must have been taught by the example of her father and 
mother to anticipate the demands of a Cardassian male.

And even if he discounted the appeal of an attentive
and pliable young woman, Bashir could not forget that 
Garak was coming here for Tain.  _That_ long-standing,
unbroken bond was far more disquieting. 

Bashir was still pondering the question when the guards 
returned and dragged him unceremoniously out of his cell
and back to his barracks.  They flung him through the
doorway.

Garak was there.  

-=*)]VIII[(*=-

It could not have been more than two or three seconds, but 
there seemed to be an unbearably long silence before the 
tailor uttered one astounded word: "Julian."

All thought of what he wanted to say abruptly left Bashir's 
head, and then Worf--Worf?  What was _he_ doing here?--
protested, "How do we know that this is the real Dr. Bashir?"

No teary reunion.  No repetition of the same old, bitter 
quarrel.  Their first minutes together were spent conducting 
blood tests.

After the others had all demonstrated that their blood did 
not turn into shimmering gelatinous plasma, and Julian had 
sliced into one of his own fingers, General Martok declared, 
"Well, it appears we are all who we seem to be."

Worf replied with unrelenting suspicion, "_If_ the blood-
screenings can be trusted."

Julian threw him a poisonous look and was about to say 
something nasty, when Garak asked him how long he had 
been here.  This led them each to tell the story of their
abductions.

As Garak and Worf described how they had been captured by 
the Jem'Hadar, Julian realized that he'd been so worried 
about meeting Garak his ex-mate, he had taken Garak his 
rescuer entirely for granted. From the moment Tain announced 
that his message had been sent, Julian had imagined Garak 
responding swiftly to the summons and helping them to escape. 
He hadn't given much practical thought as to _how_ this 
escape would be accomplished.

But here Elim was as much a prisoner as the rest of them.

All his hopes plummeted.  While the Klingons went on talking
about the conditions of the Empire since Martok's changeling
replacement had instigated the war against the Federation, 
Bashir grew more sullen and dispirited.  Garak returned 
to Tain's bedside; as he gazed down at the sleeping old man, 
an expression of hopeful yearning crossed his face briefly 
before it was replaced with a scowl.  Bashir thought he 
could bear anything except this. 

He left the barracks.  Garak left Tain and quietly came 
after him.

"Julian?"

Bashir stopped and turned.  The Cardassian stopped 
too, several paces away; Bashir regarded him nervously, 
wondering what his ex-mate had followed him to say.

The last thing he expected was the ridiculously innocuous 
question, "How have you been, Julian? You look pale, more 
thin.  Subdued.  Not at all like your old irrepressible 
self."

"A month or more in prison will do that," Bashir replied.

"I can imagine how miserable this has been for you, trapped 
here." He spoke not in that impersonal, occasionally acid-
laced tone that Julian had grown used to this last year, 
but with genuine sympathy, as someone who knew what he 
suffered by being held captive.

And Julian was grateful for it.  

"It hasn't been so bad," he answered with less reserve.
"The worst of it is the frustration, not knowing what  
my replacement has been up to on the station."

"Oh, he's been extremely affable.  He gets along with 
everyone--he's even befriended Ziyal," Garak told him. 
"You haven't been harmed then?"
  
Julian shook his head. "I haven't been tortured or beaten.  
I've never been in the ring--General Martok's protected me, 
kept the guards from killing me by promising them a better 
fight."  Garak looked surprised and curious at this 
information; surely, Julian wondered, Elim didn't think 
that he'd made some kind of sexual bargain with the Klingon?  
"I took care of his gouged eye," he explained.  "It was a 
festering wound when I came here, and I stole some meta-
sulphide to treat the infection.  Once you have a Klingon 
officer's gratitude, you have an ally for life.  I've tried 
to help Tain too, as much as he'll let me."

"I imagine that hasn't been much at all," Garak said 
drily.

"Well, you know Tain."

"I do indeed."  The tailor was scowling again.  "Do you
know what he said when he saw me? 'I couldn't count on 
you--all you've done is betray us both.'  Without the 
smallest sign of gratitude for all the risks I've taken
to come here!" 

They walked out into common area.  Garak went on:

"I should've let that monster die forgotten and alone. 
All my life, I've done nothing but try to please that 
man--I've let him mold me, let him turn me into a mirror 
image of himself, and how did he repay me?  With exile.  
But I forgave him.  And here, in the end, I thought 
maybe, just maybe, he could forgive me."

Julian heard the pain beneath the spite, the depths of 
unsatisfied devotion.  He'd wondered at first why Garak
had chosen to confide in _him_, but then who else did
Garak have to talk to?  Their allies--Martok, the Breen, 
the Romulan--were all strangers, and unless there had been 
some radical change during his absence, Garak held Worf 
in contempt as a remarkably thick-headed oaf.  He was 
the one person here who knew something of Garak's history 
with Tain and, odd as it seemed, the only one his ex-mate
felt he could turn to; he listened while Garak spilled 
the secrets of his heart.
 
"From what I've seen of him in the past month, he doesn't 
come across as the forgiving type," he answered, his own 
words heavy with meaning.  He wasn't thinking of Tain.

But Garak was too preoccupied with his own emotional 
turmoil to catch the irony.  "I've been a fool."  He turned 
to Julian suddenly, fingertips nearly brushing his chest.  
"Let this be a lesson to you--perhaps the most valuable one 
I can ever teach you--sentiment is the greatest weakness of 
all."

Bashir was quiet for a moment.  Then he said, "Sentiment's 
never stopped you where _he's_ concerned."  

The tailor was jarred from his thoughts by this remark; 
he stared at Bashir as if he only now considered whom he 
was talking to.  "What?"

"You've forgiven him," Julian explained in the same soft
undertone, "but you still haven't forgiven me, have you?"

Garak regarded him steadily before he answered, "I intended 
to take you back eventually, but I wanted you to feel the 
enormity of your transgression. You've been very stubborn."

"You wanted me to confess when I was innocent," Julian 
replied.
  
"It is not in me to forgive anything easily.  Even after 
all this time, I don't believe you fully comprehend how 
much it hurt me to learn that _you_ had been unfaithful."

"I wasn't!" he protested.  "Elim, I didn't sleep with 
Miles, not even after I moved in with him.  We were 
never lovers."

Garak simply ignored this; he didn't believe it.  "You 
destroyed a faith I did not even realize I possessed," 
he went on.  "But I wanted you back all the same.  I have
been...lonely without you.  I did love you, Julian.  I 
suppose I still do.  Your infidelity would not have 
wounded me so deeply if I had not cared so much for you. 
And then it seemed you didn't want to come back after 
all."

"My affable replacement hasn't begged to be taken back?"
Julian inquired tightly; he had began to tremble with 
suppressed rage at Garak's words. 

"Oh, he drew a phaser on me when I proposed to take one 
of the runabouts to come here without first obtaining 
Captain Sisko's permission," Garak told him, unaware of 
Bashir's increasing anger.  "Other than that, we've been 
on very good terms.  We've even had lunch a few times,
just as you and I used to.  But he's shown no interest 
in resuming our old relationship.  Of course, I didn't 
realize until now that your apparent indifference was 
really all that creature's doing."

"No," Julian retaliated finally.  "It's not just the 
changeling.  _I_ want nothing to do with you, Garak, 
even if we spend the rest of our lives stuck on this 
godforsaken rock."   

He turned and headed swiftly out of the common area.
He'd been wrong. They hadn't come so far since their 
separation; they were exactly at the point where they'd 
left off.

-=*)]IX[(*=-

He had not gone more than a few meters down the corridor 
when he heard footsteps on the floor behind him, and he 
stopped again to wait for Garak to catch up. The tailor 
touched his arm.

"I am glad you're here, Elim," Julian conceded, voice still 
choked with contained anger.  "If we're ever going to escape 
this place, we need your help.  You and I have to be able to 
work together.  But I won't answer your accusations. I don't 
care if you believe me or not."  He did care, but it was 
pointless to go on arguing about it.  After all these weeks
in prison, he was too tired to take up another battle.  He 
glanced back at Garak and asked, "Would you have taken the 
trouble to come all this way to rescue me if you'd known I 
was here too?"

Garak looked puzzled by the question. "Yes, of course."

"Just as you've come for Tain?" He couldn't help a small,
bitter smile.  "It strikes me as hypocritical, Elim, for 
you to punish me for an infidelity I didn't commit when 
you've been in love with someone else all the time I've 
known you."

"I don't know what you mean." 

"Don't you?"  One of the Jem'Hadar guards was patrolling
near the end of the corridor.  Bashir took the tailor by 
the elbow and tugged urgently; Garak let himself be led 
until they were nearly back at their barrack.  

"What I mean," Julian hissed once they were alone, "is 
that no matter what you say about Tain, the truth is that
you'll do anything for his sake.  A man who hates you!  
He's responsible for your exile.  He's tried to have you 
killed.  He holds out the possibility of restoring you 
to Cardassia only to betray you, and you'll still go 
anywhere at a summons from him.  You'll travel to the 
Founders' planet in the hope that he's still alive, and 
you're ready to commit genocide, to kill yourself--and 
me!--when you think he's dead.  You'll come all this way 
to rescue him. He lets me tend him, but he's never given 
me a word of thanks for it.  He despises me because he 
thinks I'm your lover.  As if he hasn't always meant 
more to you than I ever did!"

Garak heard this diatribe in wide-eyed amazement.  "Is 
this why you abandoned me for Chief O'Brien?"

"I was never unfaithful!" Julian flung back.  "But since 
you threw me out, I began to see how little I really mean 
to you.  Do you know, when you told me you would have 
killed Tain to protect me, I was naive enough to believe 
it?  You never would have shot him, would you?  When you 
tried to destroy the Founders, you didn't think of me at 
all."

"I did think of you," Garak admitted.  "I knew when I was
rerouting the controls for the Defiant's weapons systems
that you were down on that planet.  I was extremely sorry 
that you would have to die for the sake of the Alpha 
Quadrant's safety."

"For the sake of Tain, you mean."  

"But I didn't expect to live long enough to grieve for 
you," the tailor continued as if he hadn't interrupted.  

Julian sighed, "The fact of the matter is that when you 
had to choose, you chose him.  He will always be more
important to you.  Perhaps that's only natural--I was 
only yours for a few months.  Tain must have had you for 
years."

To his complete surprise, Garak burst into a smile.  
"Tain- "  But before he could say more, Martok came 
down the corridor toward them. 

"If you wish to speak to Tain," he said, "do it now, 
before it's too late."

Garak nodded and, unexpectedly, seized his hand.  
"Come with me, Julian.  It's time."

-=*)]X[(*=-

The others had gone.  The dying man lay alone.  Garak 
released his hand as they as they entered the barrack; 
Julian retreated to his own bunk on the other side of
the room and sat down.  Although the lights were 
dimmed, it was soon apparent that Tain's sight was 
failing.  He did not immediately recognize the man who 
knelt at his bedside, even as Garak spoke his name.  

"Are you alone?" Tain asked.

"Yes," Garak told him, "there's no one else here but
you and me."  He threw a glance back at Bashir, silently
imploring him to keep still, be quiet, and not reveal 
his presence.  Either out of the vestiges of his old 
obedience or his own sense of curiosity, Julian remained 
quiet while the two Cardassians reviewed old business, 
settled ancient scores.  Garak assured Tain that all his 
enemies were dead, and Tain made one last request, that 
Garak take revenge for his death against the Dominion.  

Garak agreed, "On one condition--that you don't ask me
this favor as a mentor, or a superior officer, but as a
father asks a son."

This was what Garak had meant him to hear, beginning with
that astonishing word, "Father!"  Tain denied it at first, 
then let out one last, venomous spew--"I should've killed 
you before you were born."--but he relented at last. Julian 
listened in wonderment. After all this time, he thought he 
knew Elim very well in spite of a lack of certain facts, 
and now he found he hadn't understood at all. Here, at his
father's deathbed, Garak was finally giving up a part of 
himself that he had never dared to surrender before.  The 
source of the motivations which had guided his life. The 
key. The story about the riding hound.

When the old man shut his eyes, Julian spoke.  "Garak?" 

Garak rose from his knees and reached forward to draw the 
blanket over the dead man's face.  Bashir left his cot, 
intending to step forward, place a hand on Garak's shoulder, 
and find some offer of comfort.  There was so much he wanted 
to say--
 
And that was when the Klingons came in.

"Gentlemen," Garak addressed them, "I don't know about you, 
but my business here is done."  He looked over Martok's 
shoulder to meet Julian's eyes.  Julian gave him a smile.  

-=*)]XI[(*=-

He hadn't realized how low his spirits had sunk until 
they began to rise again; Garak had only to say that 
they were going home and, from that moment, Julian never 
doubted in spite of all the difficulties they encountered
in the next hours.

He was almost cheerful as he proposed that Garak carry on 
Tain's work and reconfigure the array on the transmitter
to contact the runabout:  "_You_, my dear Mr. Garak, are
a man of many hidden talents.  If you can't do it, no one
can."  Could that really be his voice, that playful lilt?  
He hadn't spoken to Elim that way in months!

Garak had hesitated at the suggestion, and appeared 
increasingly agitated as he spent long periods inside 
the wall, but whenever Bashir advised him to take longer 
breaks, he insisted on continuing his work.  Julian had
first taken this for typical Cardassian stubbornness--
just like Tain's!--and assumed that Garak was determined
to finish as swiftly as possible without regard for 
medical advice. He took Elim's shorter respiratory rate
and quickened pulse as signs of ordinary stress, and 
never saw that Garak was hiding another secret until 
it came out in a violent claustrophobic fit.  

He'd slipped into the crawlspace to try and draw the 
hysterical Cardassian out to safety; at the touch of 
his outstretched hand, Elim had suddenly snatched him up
with a ferocity that crushed the breath out of him and
bruised his ribs.  Julian thought he would pass out
himself before he was able to win himself free of that 
tenacious hold.

That was the worst, when Elim lay staring vacantly in 
shock, but even then he managed to pull himself together
before Bashir could give up hope, and the work on the 
transmitter was completed just in time.  

There was no time to have that private conversation 
Bashir had ached for since Tain's death; they didn't 
have a single moment alone together when Garak was in 
a condition to talk. Even after they beamed aboard the 
runabout, their first priority was to warn DS9, and 
then he had Worf's injuries to tend to.  

It was not until he emerged from the aft compartment,
where he had left his patient under Martok's care, 
that Julian found his opportunity.  Garak was alone
in the cockpit, in the pilot's seat, but he looked up 
as Julian tentatively approached his chair.  

"We're not far from the wormhole," the tailor reported.
"It won't be much longer." He gestured for Julian to 
join him. 

Bashir took the nearest seat, and got straight to it.  
"He was your _father_?"

Garak didn't answer right away, but examined the 
control panel before him even though they were on a
clear course that required no adjustments.  "I didn't 
want you to know," he replied at last.  "Honestly, 
dear Julian, he was not the best father-in-law, was 
he?  He wasn't an admirable father either.  You are 
aware of how important family is to a Cardassian, 
but I don't think you can comprehend the stigma an 
illegitimate child bears. If you are not recognized, 
you are nothing."

"Tain didn't recognize you?" Julian asked. "But didn't
he bring you into the Obsidian Order, made your career?" 

"He sponsored me.  Promoted me.  Our true relationship 
was surmised by many, but he never openly acknowledged 
me as his son.  Last night was the first time."  Garak 
turned his chair to face him fully. "I had hoped you 
would never learn the unpleasant facts of my parentage, 
but I thought that you deserved to hear the whole truth 
for once.  It was time for you to understand."

"And all this time, I thought..."

"I know what you thought."  

"You let me think so."

Garak barely smiled.  "I told you many times that he and 
I were not lovers, but you refused to believe me."

In reply to this, Bashir merely regarded his former mate
with archly upraised eyebrows.  

Garak stared back, then lowered his eyes. He turned away
again and fell into a long, contemplative silence before 
he said, "Julian, I have no wish to die as my father did, 
unloved and unmourned.  I don't want to be alone.  I was 
fortunate enough to be given a chance to avoid that fate 
once, and I foolishly threw it away.  I have decided--I 
do believe you."

Did Elim truly did believe him after all this time, or 
was he saying this because he knew it was the only way 
Julian would agree to come back to him?  Julian couldn't 
be certain.  He sighed and answered, "We'll talk about 
it when we get home."

He knew that it wasn't going to be easy even if he agreed 
to return; they might easily fall into the same traps they
had before. But he didn't want to be lonely anymore either 
and, for the first time in a long time, it looked as if 
they might have a chance.

The forward windows filled with the bright, whirling 
luminescence disc of the wormhole as it opened in front 
of the runabout.

They were almost home.

-=*)]end[(*=-