Phren'atkliTitle: Phren'atkli Author: Kathryn Ramage Series: DS9 Codes: G/B Rating: PG13 Summary: A sequel to "Kh'rat-la." When Garak is lured off the station, Bashir decides that he has a duty to rescue his lover--or to avenge him. Setting: 2nd season, shortly after "The Wire." Paramount owns Star Trek, DS9, and the characters even if they never really knew what to do with them. This story was written purely for entertainment purposes. Special Thanks: To Ina, for her beta-read and helpful comments on the draft of this story. Copyright April 2001 -*|1|*- Dr. Bashir had been afraid that there would be some furious explosions of Cardassian temper after he'd removed the neural implant from Garak's brain--but, aside from that first terrible outburst during his withdrawal, the tailor seemed to be recovering with no ill effects. In fact, when the doctor dropped by Garak's quarters at the end of his shift, his patient looked remarkably well, and very pleased to see him. He stayed for dinner at Garak's invitation. They argued genially over the table about the portrayal of the Klingons in the latest Cardassian novel Garak had lent him, "Meditations on a Crimson Shadow." And, after dinner, as Garak poured out drinks for both of them, he abruptly changed the subject. "I have a confession to make, Doctor--I had another reason for asking you to stay, beyond enjoying your always delightful company. I'd like to discuss something more...personal than literature. You don't mind?" "Uh- no," said Julian, too startled to refuse the offered glass of kanar. His mind was working frantically, imagining what Garak was about to say. "No, not at all." "One of the unfortunate consequences of having nothing to do is that it gives you far too much time to think about things you would rather forget." Garak sat down in his armchair and took a sip of his own drink. "During my recuperation, I've been forced to reflect that the last time you were in this room, I was not very kind to you. You put up with my behavior extraordinarily well. I wanted you to know how impressed I was with your diligence in what was a trying situation for both of us, and I wanted to apologize, to tell you how sorry I am for what I said when I was indisposed. I hope you can forgive me." "I have forgiven you," Julian assured him. "Don't you remember?" "I remember." The tailor smiled. "Your capacity for forgiveness is even more impressive than your professional dedication." "I understood what you were going through--at least, a little." While this was not what he had expected Garak to tell him, Bashir wondered what his friend meant by apologizing now. Was it a sincere expression of gratitude? A prelude to a declaration? A test to see how he would respond? He decided to try a test of his own. After gulping his drink, and making a face at the kanar's acid tang, he began, "You know, now that the worst is over, I like to look on all of this as a positive experience." "Positive, Doctor?" Garak echoed incredulously. "Oh, yes. You've been freed from a horrible addiction and, in spite of all the different stories you told me, I feel that this crisis has brought us closer together." The tailor considered him with curiosity--and a glimmer of hope-fulness?--before he answered carefully, "Yes, I feel that too." "After all, it took the threat of nearly losing you to make me realize just how much you mean to me," Julian ventured farther. "And I know now that I mean something to you." "But I said I hated you." "I didn't believe it. You also said that the only thing you had to look forward to was our lunches--_that_ sounded like the truth." Beneath all the venom that Garak had spit at him in his most violent rages, Julian had heard a deeper pain: the cry of a desperately man alone. He _was_ all Garak had in his exile. "You do care for me," he probed gently, "and I think that one of the reasons you were so angry was because you didn't think I cared as much. But since then, I've stayed by you through all your tantrums and all your lies, and even held your hand when I thought you were on your deathbed. You've begun to wonder if it's just my 'professional dedication'--only what I'd do for any patient in need--or if it's something more than that. You'd like to find out what I really feel. That's what all of this is leading up to, isn't it?" "I'm ashamed to have been so transparent," Garak admitted, without sounding very embarrassed. "I can only blame it on my recent illness." Julian set his drink down before he walked over to Garak's chair. "You see now that you were mistaken?" "I am beginning to realize that." "Don't you think we ought to do something about it?" "Yes," Garak answered softly, barely breathing the word, "if you do." "I do." And, taking the glass of kanar from Garak's hand, Julian sat down on the astonished tailor's knee and gave him a brief but passionate kiss. "So," he teased when they drew apart, "am I ever going to learn the truth about you?" "My dear Doctor," Garak responded in kind, "I have already given you the truth." "You said the same thing the other day--'It's all true'...even the lies. You mean, it's all in there somewhere?" "Exactly. The trouble is, you don't know how to listen. You focus on inconsequential details, and never pay attention to what's really important. No wonder you believe that I'm an incorrigible liar. I find it remarkable that you trust me at all." "Oh, I trust you," Julian responded. Sliding his arms around Garak's shoulders, he kissed him again, then whispered in his ear, "Would I let you have me if I didn't?" Garak pulled back to regard him with surprise. "You _will_ let me..?" Julian nodded. He climbed off of Garak's lap and took him by the hand to draw him up and lead him over to the bed in the corner. "Come on." While Julian sat down to unfasten his boots, Garak stood over him. "Ah- Doctor-" Bashir beamed up at him. "Julian." Garak smiled. "Dear Julian." He did not encourage Bashir to use _his_ first name in return. Julian had learned it from Enabran Tain, but he was hoping that Garak would tell him himself. "Why now?" "Because I've been thinking about it for awhile, and I've decided that this is the right time," Bashir answered playfully. They'd been skirting the edges of courtship for some weeks, but the doctor had always been reluctant to advance before. "Because I'm so happy to have you alive and whole and safe that I think we ought to celebrate," he went on, making light of feelings that had become very serious to him since Garak's collapse. "Because I _do_ trust you--after all we've been through, I have a good idea what kind of man you are, even if you won't tell me anything about yourself. And- well- because..." here, he faltered. He couldn't say _I love you_. He wasn't ready yet. He'd been too quick, too effusive with the word so many times before, and it had always ended badly. This time, he wanted to be sure. But there was no need to say anything more. Garak's smile had grown broader during this explanation and, at Julian's hesitation, he reached down to sweep the doctor up into his arms. It wasn't the first time Julian was startled by an unexpected exhibition of Cardassian strength: he had been pinned more than once, and flung half-way across this same room. This time, however, he was not alarmed--rather, he was excited by it. As they met each other eagerly in another kiss, the comm beeped. At first, Garak seemed ready to ignore it, but as the pitch rose into an ascending series of sharp tones--a sound Bashir had never heard a comm system make before--the tailor stopped. "Excuse me, please," he said and, depositing Julian back on the bed, went to the comm panel. He entered a code to access a verbal message in Kardasi. A woman's voice. Garak must have blocked the Universal Translator, for Julian could not understand what was said--but he could see the effect that it had on his friend. He saw the Cardassian start at the first words, then heard him whisper, "Oh, Mila..." "Who's Mila?" asked Julian. "An old girlfriend?" Garak whirled as if he had forgotten that the doctor was there. "No," he replied. "She's Enabran Tain's housekeeper." "I didn't see her when I was there." "You visited Tain's retirement home on Arawath. He also has a residence on Cardassia Prime. Mila remained behind to manage it." And, swiftly crossing the room to where Julian sat waiting, he took the young man by the arm and urged him up. "Forgive me, dear Doctor, but I must ask you to leave." "But, Garak-" Julian protested as he was inexorably escorted to the door. "What about-?" his eyes went to the barely rumpled bed. "I'm afraid that will have to wait. Some personal business demands my attention. Oh, just a trivial matter," he cut Julian off before he could ask what this business was. "Nothing that need concern you, but I ought to take care of it immediately. Believe me, I am as disappointed as you are at this interruption--if not more so-- but it's better gotten out of the way. You would not want our first joining to be spoiled by more of these annoying intrusions?" "Er- no," Julian admitted. "Another night." The door slid shut, leaving Bashir standing in the corridor, feeling a little hurt and extremely puzzled by this sudden ejection. Perhaps it was for the best, he told himself as he walked back to his own quarters. He would rather have Garak's undivided attention the first time they made love--and, whatever had been in that message, it had obviously distracted Garak to the point where sex was the last thing on his mind. Another night then. But if Garak thought he was going to get the same generous and spontaneous offer, then he was mistaken. The next time, Julian planned with a wicked grin, he would make that damned Cardassian prove he really wanted him. Garak would have to beg! With pleasant thoughts of tormenting his would-be lover, Julian went to his own bed and slept alone. -*|!|*- He expected Garak to apologize the next day, but the tailor did not come to the Infirmary. Bashir waited all morning, then went to lunch at the Replimat, hoping to find Garak at their usual table--but he wasn't there. Growing less puzzled and more hurt and angry by the minute, Julian went to the tailor's shop, and found it closed. A quick query at the neighboring kiosks confirmed that Garak hadn't been in at all. He went to Garak's quarters next and, after repeated chimings, then bangs on the door, went unanswered, he used his medical security override to enter. Last night's dishes had been left on the dining table, and Garak's half-finished glass of kanar sat on the floor beside the armchair. The little rumple on the blanket, where he had been sitting when they were interrupted, was still there, but the bed was otherwise untouched. Garak had not slept here; he must have decamped immediately after tossing him out. What had been in that message? While Garak had not bothered to straighten up before leaving, a quick check of his computer showed that he had taken the time to erase all his personal files. Dax or O'Brien might have the technical expertise to retrieve the deleted message, but Julian was reluctant to bring other people into this yet. He would have to try for himself. "Computer," he ordered, "locate any file fragments-" [[Voice recognition program initiating,]] the computer informed him before he could complete the command. [[Identified: Dr. Julian Bashir. Accessing log, stardate 47803.1...]] Garak's image appeared on the screen. <> And the screen went blank. -*|!|*- Unable to retrieve the deleted message, Bashir decided to try another course of action: he contacted Cardassia. Garak had said that this Mila was Tain's housekeeper. Surely she couldn't be that hard to locate? His first attempts to access the Kardasi public comm system were intercepted and abruptly terminated; it was only after multiple tries and repeated confrontations with suspicious communications officials, that he told them bluntly that he was trying to reach Tain's residence. The mere mention of the former head of the Obsidian Order produced some surprised and nervous, but fruitful, responses. Thereafter, he was passed on to each successive Cardassian officer's superior to explain his business yet again. Then, at last, an elderly woman appeared on the viewscreen. "Are you Mila?" he asked. She drew back, startled at the sight of a human. "Yes," she replied reluctantly. "Who are you?" "My name is Julian Bashir, Dr. Bashir. I'm a - ah- friend of Garak's. I have reason to believe he's coming to see you. When he gets there, will you please ask him to contact me right away? He left the station rather abruptly, and there are a few things that I need to say to him." "Elim...coming here?" Her expression grew more anxious. "But he can't!" Julian felt a cold tingle run up his spine. "Didn't you ask him to come?" But he knew the truth even before she replied. "I never contacted Garak. I haven't spoken to him in years." -*|2|*- Reluctant as he was to notify the DS9 crew about Garak's disappearance, Julian knew after he talked to Mila that he was going to need help. He went to Odo first. The Constable was automatically distrustful of anything that involved Garak, but at Julian's insistence, he agreed to look into the matter. A short while later, Bashir sat in the Security Office; he had spoken to Commander Sisko by that time, and Sisko joined him to hear Odo's findings. "According to the transport logs, Garak booked passage on a Kressari vessel heading for Cardassian space late last night," Odo reported. "He left the station of his own volition, Doctor. He wasn't coerced." "He was tricked!" cried Bashir. "He received a false message." "From this Mila you mentioned?" asked Sisko. "Yes, sir. She said she didn't send it, but whoever did used her name. It was enough to make him leave DS9." "What was in the message, Doctor?" Odo asked him. "I don't know, exactly. It was in Kardasi." "Then how do you know it was supposed to be from her?" "Garak said-" Only then did it occur to Julian that he was making an unwarranted assumption: he had heard a woman's voice, and Garak had whispered Mila's name, but Garak had never said that the message was _from_ her. It might only have been _about_ her. "How do you know Garak wasn't lying?" Odo continued. "For that matter, how do you know this Mila was telling the truth? You said she worked for Enabran Tain." Julian felt deflated. Mila had seemed like a harmless, even timid, old woman, but she _was_ in Tain's service. Who knew what lies she would tell for her employer? Could Tain have directed her to send the message? Had he sent it himself? No; Julian suddenly realized. Not Tain. "I know," he said aloud, "because this isn't Enabran Tain's doing. It's Gul Dukat." "Dukat?" Sisko's eyebrows shot upward. "Yes, sir. You remember what happened the last time he was here, after that business with Kotan Pa'Dar and his son?" Only a few months ago, he had uncovered Dukat's plan to discredit Pa'Dar, with Garak practically leading him by the hand from clue to conclusion. Furious at being thwarted, Dukat had promised thatthey would regret it. He had already struck at them once, targeting Bashir and trying to turn him against Garak; when that had failed, Dukat had attempted to take the doctor off the station. Garak had showed up in time to put a stop to it. "I remember," said Sisko. "As a matter of fact, there are still some things about that incident that haven't been completely cleared up--like, what _was_ Garak doing in your quarters in the middle of the night?" He tried to sound as if he were teasing, but there was an earnest curiosity underlying the question that made Julian answer honestly, if defensively, "He was hiding, waiting. He knew that Dukat would come after me." A disruptor battle between the two Cardassians had ensued. What Bashir did not confess--although he knew that both Sisko and Odo suspected he was protecting Garak somehow--was that Garak had shot him accidentally. The tailor had been very apologetic about it afterwards, and Julian was always a little vague on that point when questioned. Dukat had not been seen on DS9 since. "Garak told me that this wasn't over. I thought he meant that Dukat was going to threaten _me_ again, but I'm not the one Dukat's after this time. We have to find Garak. Sir, I'd like to request permission to take one of the runabouts-" Sisko shook his head. "But, Commander!" Bashir was on his feet. "If Dukat has him-" "There's no evidence that Dukat's kidnapped him, Doctor. We only have your word for it that Dukat is even involved." Sisko gave Bashir a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, and gently pressed him back down into his chair. "I know you're worried about Garak. Odo will continue his investigation." He looked over Julian's head to Odo, and gave him a short, sharp nod to indicate that this was an order. "If he finds out that Dukat has anything to do with Garak's leaving the station... Well, we'll decide what to do when we have more information." "There's not much we _can_ do, is there?" asked Julian. "It depends," Sisko admitted. "Garak isn't one of the DS9 crew, and he's not a citizen of the Federation or one of our allies. He left the station voluntary, regardless of the reason. If this is an internal Cardassian matter, then we have no right to intervene." Bashir understood; he was the only one who really cared about Garak's welfare. Odo, the commander, anyone else he turned to, might assist him if he asked, but they wouldn't go to extreme lengths for the Cardassian tailor. "We'll do what we can. Why don't you take the rest of the afternoon off, Doctor?" Sisko suggested. "Go to Quark's, or to your quarters and take it easy. Try not to worry--I'm sure Garak will be fine. If there's one thing you can say about that Cardassian, it's that he can take care of himself." "Yes, sir," Julian murmured dispiritedly. He went to the habitat ring but, instead of going to his own quarters, he returned to Garak's. He lay down on the bed. Was it only last night that they had been here? They had been so close...and now Elim was gone. He whispered a word, "Phren'atkli." Garak had explained the term to him: The phren'atkli were a respected guild in the days of the Hebitian empire, followers of a goddess who held the power of life and death, professional assassins, and sometimes courtesans. From the books Garak had lent him on ancient Cardassian religious cults, Julian understood that the two duties were often intertwined; with a phren'atkli, one not only enjoyed the exquisite attentions of a skilled lover, but also had the security of knowing that any threats to life or personal safety would be met with swift, vicious retaliation. Dukat had once called him Garak's phren'atkli. As a joke? As a derisive comment, certainly. Dukat had thought that he was being trained to take revenge if anything happened to the exiled tailor. Perhaps, Dukat had meant to suggest a sexual relationship between them as well; Bashir had thought so at the time. He was no skilled lover, and no assassin, but he _was_ Garak's phren'atkli. The bond had not been fully consummated, but it was there. Julian felt it. He had obligations to the man he thought he loved. With or without permission, he had to go and find Garak, to rescue him if necessary. And if Dukat had killed him..? Julian hoped it wouldn't come to that, but if it did, he was prepared to take that responsibility too. -*|!|*- He waited until 0200--long enough, he hoped, to belay Odo's and Commander Sisko's suspicions that he would do something like this. When he was certain that the Constable was in liquid form and Sisko safely in his quarters, Bashir changed into civilian clothes, went to the docking ring, and took one of the runabouts. He left the station without incident. There was only one place he could think to go: He set a course for Arawath. He had no good reason to believe that Enabran Tain would help him save Garak, except that Tain had done so once before. And who else did he have to turn to? He slept fitfully for a few hours before he reached the first checkpoints at the borders of Cardassian space, and arrived at the Arawath retirement colony at mid-morning, local time. When he beamed down into Tain's house, the elderly Cardassian was waiting in the vestibule and did not seem at all surprised to see him. "Lt. Bashir," Tain greeted his guest with a dry imitation of pleasantness. "Back so soon?" "Yes," Julian answered, and explained without preamble, "I came because I need your help." "What is it this time? I hope that Garak hasn't fallen ill again." "No, it's not that. He's missing." Bashir was half-certain that Tain already knew what had happened and was merely playing with him, but he explained anyway, "He's been lured off DS9. Someone sent him a false message, supposedly from your housekeeper." "That might do it," Tain agreed. "I have no proof, but I think that Gul Dukat's responsible." "Dukat?" Tain appeared to give the name some thought. "Oh, yes. The son. But why blame him for Garak's disappearance? Dukat isn't the only one who would be happy if Garak was never seen again. Far from it." "What about you?" asked Julian. "You told me that you wanted Garak to live a long and miserable life in exile." "But it's not so miserable anymore, is it? Not when he has _you_ to look after him." Julian felt his face grow hot at the innuendo, but he didn't answer. His relationship with Garak was none of Tain's business. "Will you help me or not? I'm going to look for Garak no matter what, but it'll be easier to find him if I have your assistance. I need to know where Garak is, what Dukat's done with him, and if he's still alive. If anyone can give me that information, it's you--there isn't much that goes on in Cardassia that gets past _your_ notice. What about it, Tain?" Tain considered him--stared, not moving and not blinking for so long that the young doctor almost faltered. But he met those icy eyes with as steady a gaze as he could manage, until Tain finally chuckled. "Brash, as always. Can I get you something to drink, Lieutenant? Some juice? Tea?" "Er- tea," said Julian, thrown off balance by the hospitable question. Tain ordered a glass of Tarkalean tea from the replicator, and told him, "Wait here--This may take some time." Then he left Bashir standing in the hall. Julian finished his tea, paced for awhile, then took a seat in one of the ornamental chairs against the wall and waited. When Tain returned, he announced, "You're going to Cardassia Prime." "You've found Garak? Is he all right?" "You can take your Federation vessel," Tain went on as if Julian had not spoken. "You won't be challenged. I've made arrangements. Someone will contact you along the way to escort you." "But Garak, is he-?" "Now, now," Tain cut him off, "no thanks are necessary. I'll find some way for you to repay me." -*|!|*- After that, Bashir was dismissed so swiftly that he found himself back in the runabout without any of his questions answered. But he contemplated them as he sped toward Cardassia Prime. Did Tain really know where Garak was, or was this trip meant to send him to someone who did? What was he supposed to do when he arrived at his destination? Would his 'escort' fill in thedetails? Although it had seemed like an eternity while he'd sat waiting, Julian knew that it hadn't taken very long at all for Tain to accomplish whatever he had done to locate Garak. And what exactly _had_ Tain done? Whom had he contacted? How had he managed to 'make arrangements' so quickly? Julian had seen signs of the incredible, disturbing extent of Tain's influence before--it was why he had sought him in the first place--but he still didn't know why Tain would exert that influence for Garak's sake when he so obviously despised him. And what about that 'payment' that he was expected to make for Tain's assistance? Julian tried to tell himself that if it guaranteed Garak's safe return, then he shouldn't complain, but he couldn't help feeling as if he had made a bargain with the devil. He was jarred from his thoughts when the onboard computer beeped and warned him that a ship was approaching on an intercept course. Bashir brought the runabout to a halt just as the other, much larger vessel dropped out of warp and positioned itself directly above him. As he stared up through the forward window at the Cardassian warship, he thought that he should never have trusted Tain. It had been too easy. He should have realized that he was being sent into a trap. The Cardassian ship hailed him. "Federation vessel, identify yourself." "This is the Mekong, from Deep Space Nine, en route to Cardassia Prime," he responded coolly, as if he had a legitimate right to be here. "Drop your shields, Mekong. Prepare to be boarded." He couldn't hope to out-run them, or out-fight them. He would probably be blasted out of existence if he tried. Hoping for the best, Julian lowered the shields. Dukat beamed in. "So, it's the brave little Starfleet doctor," he said as he stepped off the transporter platform. "I must say, I'm surprised to find you out here, alone, in the middle of Cardassian space." "I think you know what I'm doing here," Julian replied tersely, determined not to be intimidated. "I've come after Garak." "I told you that you'd made a poor choice of companions, Doctor. Now, you see where's it's led you. I would have left you out of this if you'd stayed where you belong." "I am where I belong," Julian shot back. "Did you think I would just sit quietly after Garak's disappearance and never wonder what happened to him? Do you have him? Is he on your ship? I swear, Dukat, if you've done anything to harm him-" "What will you do?" Dukat asked with a hint of a condescending smile. "I'm his phren'atkli, remember? You said so yourself." "But _I_ was joking. You're no assassin, Doctor. You don't have it in you." "It's true--I've never had to kill anyone," Bashir admitted. "But who knows what I could be driven to under the right circumstances? Just try me, Dukat, and we'll see what I can do." "Now, that might be interesting." The Gul was smiling broadly now, not threatened. "Well, it's a moot point anyway. We won't have an opportunity to find out what you'll do. You've no reason to avenge Garak if he isn't dead." Julian felt his knees weaken with relief at these words; he hadn't realized until now that he'd almost given up hope. "He's- he's alive?" "Yes, of course. Alive and unharmed, you'll be pleased to hear. He's to be returned to Deep Space Nine. He isn't aboard my ship, but I'll take you to him." "_You're_ my escort?" Julian had the feeling that, once again, he had blundered into the middle of some baffling Cardassian game. "Tain sent you?" A dark look crossed Dukat's face--it was only there for an instant, but it was enough to tell Julian that, if Tain had sent him, Dukat was not pleased with the errand. Had Tain somehow forced him to surrender Garak? Did the old man have that kind of power? Yes, Julian could believe he did. But Dukat only said, "If you'll come back with me to my ship, we can reach Cardassia Prime in two standard hours." Julian hesitated. As eager as he was to recover Garak, he was reluctant to go anywhere with Dukat. "How do I know this isn't a trick?" "Oh, it's no trick." This was said with a bitter undertone; it might actually be true. "I've been asked to see that you arrive safely on Cardassia Prime, Doctor, and that is exactly what I intend to do." Dukat gave him an unpleasant smile. "You understand, don't you, that I can take you whether you want to come with me or not? In fact, I could do whatever I wanted with you. You're light years away from the Federation, and I have the impression that no one knows you're here. Did you even tell Commander Sisko that you were going off on this melodramatic mission to rescue your lover?" Julian didn't answer, but Dukat correctly interpreted his silence. "No, I didn't think so. If you failed to return to DS9, they wouldn't know what had happened to you." Julian was certain that, if it were up to Dukat, he would be in terrible danger right now. There was a nasty, hissing viciousness to his words that suggested that, instead of conducting him safely to Garak, Dukat would much rather slit both their throats. But the Gul was holding himself back. Or was he being held back? All this menacing posturing--was it nothing more than empty threats? Was Dukat trying so hard to frighten him because it was all he could do? "Now," Dukat concluded, "we can agree to be civilized about this situation and get it over with as quickly as possible, or you can persist in being stubborn and make this more difficult for both of us. Which will it be?" Julian was still struggling with his suspicions when Dukat gave an exaggerated sigh of resignation. "Have it your way, Doctor," and grabbed him by the arm. He tapped his communicator and, while Bashir shouted and struggled to break free, they transported over to the Cardassian ship. "Dr. Bashir will be our guest for a few hours," Dukat told the guard on duty in the transporter room as he hauled the protesting doctor off the platform. "Escort him to quarters. See that he's comfortable. Doctor, please, stop squirming. You have my word that you won't be harmed while you're in my custody." -*|3|*- Julian was escorted to unoccupied glinn's quarters without further demur. The guard locked him in and left him alone. Too nervous to eat, he ordered a cup of red-leaf tea from the replicator and settled down in the one chair in the room. Now that the decision to travel under Dukat's spurious protection had been taken out of his hands, he had no other choice but to sit here and wait. Tain had said he was meant to go to Cardassia Prime; he hoped that that was where Dukat was taking him, where Garak was. Two hours, Dukat had said...and then what? In addition to the constant, sickening fear for Garak that had haunted him since he'd talked to Mila, he was afraid now for his own safety as well. He felt as if he were lost in a maze of inexplicable Cardassian motives. He knew that he had been lied to. That wasn't the problem. The problem was that he couldn't assume it was _all_ lies. As Garak had indicated, the truth was in there somewhere too. It seemed to be standard practice among Cardassians to present facts wrapped in layers of falsehood, or to speak honestly and make it sound like prevarication. This was deceit raised to an art form, and Julian had no idea where he stood. What could he believe? Whom could he trust? Garak, Tain, Mila, Dukat--who knew what connections, loyalties, hatreds, bound these people? He could only guess why they did the things they did. Tain was acting as his malevolent guardian angel, ensuring his safety to see that he reached Garak. Julian had no reason to think that the old man had any true interest in his welfare; Tain must want Garak kept alive for some purpose of his own, and was merely using him toward that end. Tain had also enlisted Dukat's willing or unwilling assistance. It was possible that the two were working together, but Bashir had his doubts about this. He couldn't believe that all of Dukat's frustrated malice was feigned. Everything suggested that Dukat had been coerced into Tain's service. As much as Tain hated Garak, perhaps he hated Dukat more. Had he saved one enemy to thwart another? Did he want the pleasure of killing Garak himself in his own good time? Or was there some other, more personal reason? And Tain had sent him to Dukat. While he might be guaranteed a certain amount of protection due to Tain's influence, just how far did that restraint go? Julian sat and waited, and he worried. Eventually, he fell asleep. He would have liked to believe that the replicator had been tampered with and the tea drugged, but the simple fact was that he was exhausted. He awoke to find Dukat standing over his chair, one hand extended toward him. "Doctor?" "Wh- what-?" Julian sprang up, nearly falling on the floor as he scrambled away from the touch. "What do you want?" "We've entered the Cardassian system," Dukat told him. "Are you all right? I hope I didn't startle you." He tried to sound concerned, but he was obviously amused by the doctor's alarm. "I'm fine," Julian insisted. But his heart was still thumping. "You're going to beam me down to the planet?" "Yes, shortly. We have a few minutes before we reach Cardassia Prime and I thought we might talk before I sent you on your way. You and I have some unfinished business-" As he stepped forward, Bashir retreated again. "You're frightened. Doctor... What is it you think I'm going to do?" Julian knew what he was afraid of. Not murder. Not torture. Right now, he was afraid of the same thing he had been on that night when Gul Dukat had beamed into his quarters and tried to "convince" him that he'd chosen the wrong Cardassian for an ally. It had been implicit then that, if he couldn't win Julian over by words, then he would resort to force. Was Dukat intending to try again? He was ready to put up a fight if Dukat touched him, but he couldn't forget how easily he had been overpowered on that other night. Now, he was aboard the Cardassian's ship and completely at Dukat's mercy. Garak would not show up to help him. "You're right," he said. "We had unfinished business. The last time we met, you wanted to strike at Garak through me. I know you haven't given up on that--I'm still allied to Garak, and he's still your enemy. You wanted to take me aboard your ship. You've got me here now." "I'd hoped you'd realize what a mistake you were making, siding with Garak," Dukat responded obliquely. "You were the one who drew Garak off the station, weren't you?" "Yes," Dukat answered with a note of incredulity, as if he couldn't believe Bashir had to ask. "You were planning to kill him." "Eventually. I wanted to discuss a few old matters with him first." "But you didn't get a chance to. Tain stopped you before it got that far." "Enabran Tain," Dukat spat the name, "convinced me that there other factors to consider. I decided it would be more advantageous to let Garak live." "You aren't allowed to hurt him," Julian translated. "But what about me?" "What more assurances do you need? I promised that I wouldn't harm you." Under Tain's orders, Julian had no doubt. But did either man consider a sexual violation 'harm'? More likely, the Gul would think it only natural to entertain himself with a prisoner, especially if he had an old enemy's lover at his disposal. Tain would probably not begrudge him that sport, might even see it as a recompense to Dukat for making him release Garak. "Oh, but you wouldn't call it that. I'm sure you've got some lovely euphemisms: Getting your revenge? Convincing me of the error of my ways? Playing with Garak's toy?" Dukat had looked puzzled at the first part of this outburst; now, comprehension brightened his expression. "You think I want to rape you?" "Isn't that why you brought me here?" He was utterly mortified when Dukat threw back his head and laughed out loud. "The thought never crossed my mind! I'm sorry to disappoint you, Doctor, but you're very much mistaken--not all Cardassian males share Garak's exotic tastes." He studied Bashir, eyes alight with fresh amusement. "Or is this your subtle way of telling me that that's how _you'd_ prefer to express your gratitude for my assistance...hm?" He tried to take Julian by the chin, but Bashir jerked away. Dukat grinned. "If you were the ruthless assassin you claim to be, you wouldn't have flinched. Instead of struggling, you would have encouraged my attention. You'd have made much better use of your time in my custody. Seduced me-" he moved a little closer, sending the very nervous doctor back against the curve of the bulkhead, "made me forget that you're acting in the interests of a man I despise. And then," he was uncomfortably close now, voice purring suggestively, "after you had lured me into a vulnerable position, you'd strike." To Julian's relief, he drew away. "But you'd never do that, would you? No. Being Garak's catamite and a yelping annoyance isn't enough to make you phren'atkli, little doctor. You simply don't have the heart for it." He was so openly contemptuous that Julian couldn't help wondering: would Dukat have respected him more if he _had_ tried to seduce him, then stabbed him in the back? But the conversation ended there, when an announcement came over the ship's comm to say that they had arrived at Cardassia Prime. "Come along, Doctor," said Dukat. "It's time for you to go." He tried to take Bashir by the arm and guide him toward the door, but Julian evaded his hands. Dukat did not insist. He escorted Bashir to the transporter room and, as they entered, announced, "As much as I've enjoyed your company, this is where we say 'good-bye.'" "You're leaving me here?" asked Julian. "I've done exactly as I was asked--I've brought you to Cardassia Prime," Dukat informed him. "My obligation is fulfilled. What happens to you, or to Garak, hereafter is no concern of mine." "But how am I going to get off the planet?" "Your runabout is in our shuttle bay--it will be left in orbit, ready when you wish to return to it." He gestured to urge Bashir up onto the platform. "I'm certain you'll manage. I must admit I'm looking forward to the next time we meet, Doctor. You're turning out to be quite an interesting young man. I suspect that Garak's right after all and you'll be someone to contend with one day...but you're not there yet." He turned to the transport officer: "Engage." "Wait!" Julian cried before he was beamed out. "What about Garak? Where do I find him?" Dukat gave him a toothy, malicious smile. "Right where I left him. He may not even have regained consciousness yet." -*|4|*- He materialized in the lushly planted foreyard of what appeared to be a dark and empty house. Where Dukat had left Garak... Was this Tain's home? Yes, of course: If Garak believed that Tain's housekeeper was in trouble, where would be the first place he'd go to find her? And he would have walked right into whatever trap Dukat had laid for him. Dukat had said that he'd left Garak unconscious; Julian knew he had to find him as soon as possible. The imposing stone facade loomed before him as he pushed his way through the leafy undergrowth to a flagstone path, then followed it up to the front door. He knocked. No answer, but he hadn't expected one. When he tried the access panel, he was astonished to find that the door had been left unlocked. Julian ventured in. He went from room to room, exploring every closet and corner, until he found the basement. From the top of the stairs, he could see the shape of a body lying curled on the floor below; even in the dim light, he recognized the yellow, lavender-spotted pattern of the tunic. He ran down the steps, whispering, "You bastard, you bastard." If it was too late and Garak was dead- No. As he knelt beside Garak and checked his vital points, he was relieved to find a very slow, but steady pulse. But Garak's skin was clammy to the touch. Cardassians moderated their body heat differently than Earth-type mammals; it was not quite the same as reptilian cold-bloodedness, but they felt the changes in temperature more severely--they relished warmth almost sensually, and became torpid with the cold. How long had Garak been lying unconscious on this chilly stone floor? He must have been here for hours, possibly all day. Bashir fished a hypospray from the medkit in his pocket and gave Garak a mild stimulant; he didn't want to bring him around too quickly and risk his going into shock. The best thing to do was keep Garak warm until he regained consciousness, then get him out of here. He took off his jacket, split the vel-seams and spread it as flat as he could to cover the tailor. Then he lay down behind him, wrapped his arms around him and spooned in close against Garak to try to transfer his own body's heat. "Garak?" he whispered as he lay his cheek against the smooth scales at the back of the Cardassian's neck. "Can you hear me? It's Julian--I've come to take you home." No response. "You're going to be all right," he spoke more urgently. "That's a promise. I won't lose you, Elim, not after everything we've been through. I've fought too hard for your life to give up now." And he turned his head to plant a kiss on the nape of Garak's neck. Without warning, Garak regained consciousness. Responding to the source of warmth at his back, he moved like a snake--uncoiling from his curled position, rolling suddenly, swiftly, and seizing Bashir in a grip that made the doctor cry out. "Garak!" he protested, muffled by the embrace. "Doctor?" asked Garak, as if he were only now aware of whom he was holding. "I heard your voice... I thought I was dreaming." The crushing grip loosened a little, and Garak lifted one hand to cup the side of his face with a still-cool palm. "You called me by name. I didn't dream that?" "No, you didn't." "How did you know?" "Tain told me." He pressed two fingers lightly to the pulse-point at the base of Garak's throat, monitoring the beat as it grew stronger. He could feel the skin warming under his touch. "The first time I went to him, I asked about your 'good friend' Elim." "'First time.' You've been to him again?" "Yes." "You shouldn't have done it." "How else was I going to find you?" "You shouldn't be here at all." Garak tried to sit up but, still weak, settled with his head on one drawn-up knee. "I told you to wait until I returned." "Did you really think I would?" "No. I knew you'd do something foolish--although I never imagined you'd go _this_ far." "If I'd sat around waiting, you'd probably be dead by now," Julian retorted, stung by the unanticipated reproach. He'd come all this way to save Garak's life; couldn't Garak at least be grateful? "I'd rather die alone than take you with me, my dear, impetuous Doctor," Garak scolded with affection as well as exasperation. "You're far too emotional. You rush blindly into situations you can't possibly understand. Do you have any idea of the danger you've placed yourself in by asking for Enabran Tain's help?" "I was willing to take that risk. Maybe there is a price attached-" Julian decided that he wasn't going to tell Garak about _that_, "but I might never have found you if I hadn't gone to him. He forced Dukat to let you go." "Dukat?" Garak glanced up, interested. "So _he's_ the one?" "M-hm." Julian picked up the flattened jacket, which had been flung aside when Garak had awakened. He crawled over to place it around the tailor's shoulders and, when Garak leaned in toward him, put one arm around him. It was gratifying to feel the weight of that massive head against his chest; for all his dire warnings, Garak did need him. He was glad he had come. "Your Mila didn't send that message." "What message?" "The one that sent you flying off to see her without telling anyone where you were going," Julian scolded in return, "or taking the time to confirm that it wasn't a trap even though you knew Dukat wasn't finished with us. Now who's the sentimental and impulsive one?" Garak snorted. "Obviously, I'm speaking from personal experience. I couldn't have given you a better example of what happens when you let yourself be guided by sentiment than _this_. We'll both pay for my mistake." "We aren't dead yet. We just have to get out of here, beam back up to the runabout-" "What about Mila?" Garak lifted his head to look up and around the cavernous cellar. "Have you seen her? Is she all right?" "I don't know. Why don't we try to find her?" Julian climbed to his feet. "Can you get up?" He was preparing to help Garak up when he heard the sound of the door opening at the top of the stairs. Julian whirled, moving to place himself protectively in front of his friend, then relaxed when an elderly woman stepped onto the landing above them. "Mila." Garak sounded relieved. "Have you been upstairs all this time?" asked Julian. "I was told to wait." _For what?_ he was about to ask, when he understood: She'd been waiting for him to come. He also knew, with chilling certainty, who must have given her this order. "You mean that you knew Garak was down here, and you did nothing?" he demanded. "I thought you cared for him?" "I do," she answered simply as she descended the stairs. "That was why I waited." Julian, bewildered, looked to Garak, but the tailor didn't seem upset. As Mila helped him help Garak to his feet, she continued, "I'm happy to see that you survived, Elim." She brushed her fingertips over his cheek in a gesture so tender, so intimate, that Julian was astonished. "You shouldn't have done this. You know how dangerous it is for you to come here." "I can't regret it," Garak replied. "Even if it was a trick, it gave me this chance to see you again. It's been quite awhile, hasn't it, Mila?" "Too long," she agreed. "I'm sorry that we don't have more time, but nothing has changed. I shouldn't be speaking with you. Now that you are fit to leave, you and your..." she threw a glance at Bashir, "human must get out of here, quickly." Julian stared at her. Was it that these people knew Garak so well? Or was it something about _him_? Or, in spite of Dukat's remark about Garak's exotic tastes, was this sort of situation so commonplace on Cardassia that everyone took it for granted that he was Garak's lover? "I have a message from Tain--not for you, Elim. For him." She brought a datarod out of a pocket in her housecoat, and gave it to Bashir. "You can view it later. Please, take him away now." "Yes, I will," Julian promised, although he would have liked to learn more about this woman and who she was to his friend. He reached into pocket to tap his commbadge, and was surprised that he was able to contact the runabout. "Computer," he commanded, "two to beam up." The last thing he saw before they dissolved in the transporter beam was the achingly sad expression on Mila's face as she lifted one hand in farewell. -*|!|*- Aboard the runabout, Bashir tended to Garak's injuries and sent him to lie down in the aft compartment; the tailor was too debilitated by his ordeal to put up more than a token protest. Then, once he was alone, Julian took out the datarod Mila had given him and played the message. Tain's image appeared one of the viewscreens above him. <> <> <> <> <> Tain smirked. <> The message ended abruptly. Julian sat back, pondering the deliberate way Tain had used them all to his own ends. Dukat's revenge, Garak's affection for Mila, his own desperate desire to rescue Garak--none of it mattered to Tain, except as a means to manipulate the situation and produce the results that _he_ wanted. He was startled when Garak spoke behind him, "You and Tain have been getting very friendly lately, Doctor. Is there something you'd like to tell me?" Julian turned in his seat. "You ought to be resting." "I feel fine." But Garak looked weary, and quickly sat down at the nearest console. "You should never have placed yourself under an obligation to Enabran Tain. You'll be very lucky if that's all that he wants from you." "You heard what he said?" "Only the end of it. If I have to have a 'keeper,' I suppose that Tain could have assigned a worse one. He could have left me in Dukat's hands." "There's still so much of this that I don't understand," Julian admitted. "Why Tain hates you so much. What reason he has for wanting to keep you alive. What he threatened Dukat with." To his surprise, Garak answered this last one. "Probably a charge of treason." "Treason? Dukat's committed treason?" "That depends on your definition of treachery. Not that it matters--Dukat's father was executed as a traitor to the state. When one member of a family is accused, they all become suspect. A word to the proper authorities would be sufficient to end Dukat's career, if not his life and the lives of his children." "Tain would do that?" "Of course," Garak said matter-of-factly. "He was responsible for the elder Dukat's trial and execution." Julian recalled that Tain had first identified Gul Dukat as 'the son,' and felt a small shiver creep up his spine. Even if the threat had ensured his safety and Garak's return, it seemed like a monstrous thing to do. When he thought of Dukat, snarling like a caged and outraged animal, Bashir almost pitied him. He also remembered Dukat claiming that Garak had betrayed him once, years ago. Was this what he had been referring to? Had Garak played a part in the ruin of Dukat's father? Did he want to know? Julian asked a safer question instead. "What about the housekeeper, Mila? I can see that you mean a lot to each other." Garak hesitated before replying, "Mila cared for me when I was young. She was always kind--You might even say that she was like a mother to me. I had to go to her aid." "If you've known her since you were a child," Julian ventured, encouraged by the tailor's unusual candor, "then you must have known Tain for that long too." "Yes." Garak glanced at him, immediately on guard. "I've been acquainted with Tain for some time." "Did you betray him?" "As I said, 'treachery' is such a subjective term. It depends upon your point of view. _I_ never thought I did, but unfortunately my opinion was not the deciding one." Julian smiled. "But you're not going to tell me what you did?" Garak smiled in return. "Did you think I would, Doctor? I've already given you more than enough information to see the truth for yourself." Bashir knew he wasn't going to get a straight answer but, for the moment, he didn't mind. He was simply happy to have the same old, evasive Garak here with him now. -*|5|*- It might have been pure luck, or another of Tain's 'arrangements,' but they passed each checkpoint in Cardassian space without being challenged and made it safely back to DS9. Julian had been frightened all during this adventure, but adrenalin and his determination to find Garak at all costs had seen him through. Now, however, he faced a task even more daunting than confronting Gul Dukat or Enabran Tain: explaining things to Sisko. He was granted a short reprieve while he checked Garak over in the Infirmary, but as soon as he was finished with his patient and had no further excuse to linger, he was summoned up to the commander's office. Bashir sat silently while Sisko outlined his offenses: leaving the station without permission, taking a runabout for what was not only an unauthorized mission, but one that had been expressly forbidden. He did not try to offer any excuses, but weathered the storm as his commander considered appropriate punishments, fondly recalling some fine old naval traditions that had fallen out of use, such as flogging, keel-hauling, and casting insubordinate officers in irons. Then, when Sisko was finished, he said, "I'm sorry, sir. I regret that I had to disobey your orders to do it, but I can't apologize for saving Garak's life." Bashir braced himself for a second burst of righteous anger, but Sisko's response was remarkably calm. "I know how important Garak is to you, Doctor, but I can't have you running off to Cardassia every time _he's_ in trouble. I will only put up with so much where this relationship is concerned." The words were heavy with meaning; Bashir looked up and met the commander's eyes. "I need a CMO whose first priority is this station and its crew," Sisko continued in the same meaningful tone, "not one who repeatedly places himself in danger for personal reasons. One errand of mercy might be acceptable, even two, but sooner or later you're going to have to decide where your duty lies." "Yes, sir." Julian understood: without leveling an official reprimand, Sisko had put his foot down. "I'm this station's medical officer, for as long as you want me to be." "I'm very glad to hear it." Sisko flashed a smile. "Because, if you _ever_ do anything like this again, I will toss you in the brig for a week and we'll see if Mr. Odo can find some nice, heavy chains. Dismissed." Bashir left the office. Dax, Odo, and Kira were gathered on the main floor of Ops; they had been in the middle of a heated conversation, but stopped abruptly when he emerged. Dax smiled. "How's Garak?" "He's going to be fine," Julian told her. "He's had rough time, first with his surgery, and now _this_, but I think he'll make a complete recovery. I've sent him to his quarters to recuperate. I was just going to- ah- look in on him." Kira was scowling. Odo _hrmph'd_. So, it wasn't just the Cardassians; everyone knew, or guessed, or suspected, why he had gone after Garak. Was it so obvious then? When he left Ops, he went directly to Garak's quarters. The tailor was sitting up in bed, reading. "I must really be in love with you," Bashir announced. Garak set his book down. "You sound surprised." "I suppose I am," he admitted. "I wasn't sure before." He'd risked so much for this man--his career and reputation, his personal safety, and something else, less tangible, when he'd seriously contemplated hunting down Gul Dukat. And yet, as he had told Sisko, he didn't regret it. "_I_ suspected as much the first time you went to such extravagant lengths to save my life," said Garak. "This second effort only confirms it." Julian smiled. "Is that your way of saying 'Thank you'?" "If you wish to interpret it that way." He sounded quite complacent, but was totally disconcerted when the young man suddenly began to undress. "Er- Doctor-" Julian," Bashir reminded him, and tossed a sock across the room. "Julian. What are you doing?" His plans to make Garak beg were long forgotten; after everything they'd been through, Julian didn't intend to waste another minute. "I love you--we've established that," he explained while hopping to step out of his trousers. "You love me, don't you?" "Of course." "Well, this is what people who love each other do." Naked, he climbed onto the bed and began to unfasten the tailor's pajamas. "They take care of each other, look out for each other," a kiss, "and sometimes they get into bed together. It's not different for Cardassians, is it?" "No," Garak answered, one hand lightly, almost uncertainly, trailing over Julian's bare flank. "It's not different for Cardassians." "I meant to stay here tonight to monitor your condition," Julian continued. "But as long as I'm here, I thought we might pick up where we were interrupted...that is, if you're feeling up to it?" "Oh, I think I can manage." And he turned, bringing Julian down onto the mattress, and proceeded to demonstrate. When they came up for air a few minutes later, Bashir asked, "So, am I your phren'takli?" "I've told you," Garak said indulgently, "this isn't what that word means." "No, I meant- Not because I'm your lover--or will be in a few minutes--" he wriggled close again, "but because I was ready to kill Dukat if he harmed you." Garak's eye-ridges went wide. "You were?" "I knew you were hoping to train me, so that you'd have someone to avenge your death- Don't try to deny it, Elim! We both know it's true. And, since we were at this point," he reached up and wound his arms around the tailor's neck, "I thought it was my place. I knew it was what you would have wanted." "I'm very touched by the gesture. My dear Julian, you never cease to astonish me." "I astonished Dukat too. When I told him what I'd do, he laughed in my face. He didn't think I had the nerve... Maybe he was right." "You mustn't be disappointed," Garak consoled him. "No one can question your bravery, foolhardy and well-intentioned as it is. You're a young man of many talents--There's no need to add ruthless killer to your list of accomplishments. At least," he added with a glint of mischief, "not yet." Julian had to smile. "You still haven't given up on it, have you?" "Having a devoted protege seek revenge against my enemies on my behalf? That needn't concern us for a very long time." "I hope it never does," Bashir responded earnestly, and drew Garak down for another kiss. -*|end|*- Kathryn Ramage kramage@erols.com ~*\*~*/*~~*\*~*/*~~*\*~*/*~~*\*~*/*~~*\*~*/*~~*\*~*/*~~*\*~ "It's about Garak...I'm afraid this relationship has gotten a little out of hand." - Dr. Bashir, Past Prologue