GLOSSARY
loc = Cardassian anatomy; teardrop shaped protrusion on forehead and chest
tacate = endearment; similar to sweet, dear
verhavsir = lover (romantically involved)
koadak! = Gods!
 

Misery likes company, I like the way that sounds.
I’ve been trying to find the meaning so I can write it down.
I’m staring out the window - it’s such a long way down.
I’d like to jump, but I’m afraid to hit the ground.
    Bon Jovi, My Guitar Lies Bleeding In My Arms
 

“Garak...” he breathed and his body instinctively leant forward, but was again torn back by the laming memory.

I can’t believe I’ve been reduced to having lunch with you.

Doctor Bashir forced a consoling smile, but it only crossed his unshaved features for a split second.

I am sick of staring into your smug, sanctimonious Federation face!

Slowly the Cardassian pulled the blanket over his father’s blotchy face. His features didn’t seem to move less than usual, but this time the lack of expression was a natural one. Garak exhaled and turned around.

The young man leaning against the cold metallic wall of the cell looked troubled, staring into emptiness. It was quite surreal how the gold of his skin was emphasised through the contrast to the dullness of the prison cell and the mussed and greasy black hair.

Their eyes met for an instant, then Garak arose and straightened his tunic.

Bashir was about to react, but he was silenced again by Garak’s words. Only now they were presently spoken.

“Am I right, dear Doctor, if I suppose that you were about to utter your sympathy? No offence, but I can live without your well-rehearsed phrases of support and assistance.”

He froze at the Cardassian’s smile. He could see him now, lying on a biobed in the space station’s infirmary, apologising. He could still feel the warmth of his scaly hand tightly holding his in gratitude. But not even that could repress the memory of that icy smile he had shown him once again.

“Not only words, but expressions of any kind can be well-rehearsed,” the Doctor whispered slowly, his hazel eyes focused on Garak's face. 

Garak answered quite clearly, “The procedure of learning how to communicate is very essence of life. Spontaneity can’t be taught, I’m afraid.” 

The Terran should have expected a response like that. When did Garak ever lack of a striking comment?

“It’s easy to fool me, isn’t it? Have you been keeping your own little record of how little trouble it takes to lead me up the garden path?”

“Doctor, I assure you,” Garak chuckled, “I have better things to do than playing little games.”

Bashir leant forward resting his arms on his thighs.

“But you don’t usually hesitate in training your mind? Why not use me as an object?”

“Because you’re not the centre of my universe,” he answered with a calmness that made the Doctor shudder; he had heard that one before.

“Who is it then?” he shot. “Now don’t tell me it’s Ziyal.”

“Ziyal has nothing to do with this,” the Cardassian laughed out loud.

“You like being admired,” Bashir explained. “Your Cardassian ego needs a jab of adoration at times. And you came here to accomplish the mission of getting it from Enabran Tain, the one who rejected you nearly all your life, even before you were born, your own father.  And you succeeded,” he finished triumphantly. That feeling subsided when he realised the level he had reached.

The Doctor let himself drop back into his previous position – his back to the cold wall, his throat laid bare, eyes shut. He could have been an Immortal, only the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes belying his innocence.

Garak took a step, then another towards the fallen angel. It would be futile to avoid confrontation – the cell was too small.

Bashir didn’t even twitch at the tear that was paving its way down his cheek. It glistened in the sterile light of the neon lamp above.

“I must say, there is still hope for you, Doctor,” the Cardassian nearly whispered. The young man’s eyes shot open without the rest of his lame body moving an inch. Could it really be a trace of grace and admiration in these glacial eyes, or was it Julian’s wishful thinking trying to suppress the humiliation he frequently experienced from his acquaintance’s irony.

Then he noticed Garak’s eyes wandering, his hand must have been clenching his undoubtedly strong thigh for some time and he hesitantly strained his neck to look over his shoulder onto the blanket with the uneven surface – with something massive lying under it.

“No Garak, don’t!” he shouted, and in a second he was at his friend’s side cupping his scaly cheek with his hand, forcing his head to face him.  "Look at me, Garak,” he said softly, but with a distinction that made the Cardassian do as he said. He scrutinised Garak’s face from the ridges along his ears to the ones marking his chin, his forehead elevations and the ridges encircling his ever vigilant strikingly blue eyes.

“Surprised not to see any tears, Doctor?” he chuckled bitterly, “I don’t cry, and if tears ever happen to be seen in my eyes they are – crocodile’s tears.”  He swallowed hard. “It wasn’t the shapeshifter who outwitted  me in foreseeing my plans on Deep Space Nine. It was you, here in this Dominion prison, on this asteroid floating around in the vacuum of space.”

“And that’s precisely what I can’t cope with,” Julian murmured, letting his arm sink to his side.

But Garak picked up the lost contact by  lifting Bashir’s chin gently. 

“We’re not talking about shape-shifting here, are we? More a shifting of roles?” Garak said, causing a shadow of a smile to flit across the Doctor’s face.

Lifting his long black eyelashes Julian murmured, “Now that I’ve been the outwitting one, maybe you should break your own private vow you imposed on yourself.”

“What vow?”

“Never to show your true feelings , at least never to me, not after what happened when...”

“...when I went through the withdrawal symptoms of that wretched implant,” he hissed in the direction of the bed. But he couldn’t ponder on that aspect for long for two long arms had encircled his waist and shoulders. He could feel the warmth of Julian’s body against his and laid his head on the younger man’s shoulders breathing onto his neck.

Time went by and it stopped. Thoughts roamed through the galaxy, but always stayed closely with the other person in their arms.

When one of their Romulan co-prisoners unexpectedly entered the cell she stopped and raised an eyebrow. Doctor Bashir lifted his hand and nodded, asking her to wait outside. He wanted to devote himself to his suffering companion just a little longer.

 He stroked along the glossy blackness of Garak’s hair and whispered, “Let’s go outside, hmm?” 

He could feel him swallow against his shoulder. Eventually the Garak said hoarsely, “I – would be – relieved to do so, but...”

“I’ll see to it that we won’t run into anyone,” Julian uttered with a reassuring smile that confirmed Garak’s confidence in his friend.

He nodded quickly and Julian loosened his grip.

   * * * 

Bashir broke the silence once again as they strolled through shadows and light reflected on the metal floor of the prison.

“You know,” he said quietly, “when you said that about my well-rehearsed phrases of sympathy I – I was hurt.”
The broken man he had been supporting the whole time inhaled as if to reply, but the Doctor continued,
“I thought you were insensitive, didn’t appreciate the burdens of a medic. But you were right in one thing – that I do play my part in that false game of compassion when I stand there in the infirmary – knowing that nothing, not even my oh so professional words can bring the dead back, or eradicate my mistakes.”

“Julian...” Garak breathed and turned to face him so his supporting arm slid around the Cardassian’s sturdy waist.

They had reached one of the empty storage rooms on the other side of the prison dome.  Scarcely lit and containing  only a few dusty cargo containers,  it had probably not been touched for years.

“Elim, I want you to know that my concern for you is genuine. It was genuine during what you – what we went through during your sufferings from the implant.”

“But of course it was.” Garak sighed and bowed his head,” I - just didn’t want to risk you regretting what I was about to do when you – leant over me in the infirmary where I was lying.”

“So you took my hand.” 

Julian’s lips brushed Garak’s forehead when he lifted his head. Their faces had come so close that they weren’t far from crossing the line. Both felt each other’s breaths, smelt each other’s skin.

“Only took your hand.” 

Once Garak cast his eyes upwards with an amused look, “I could swear I saw yearning on your young gentle features.”

Julian’s smiling eyes said all Garak wanted to know and he enclosed his willing lips with his own.

 The once so torn man was cradled in relief – it flooded his body – heated it up.  The once rational man was drowned in an ocean of emotion - against his better judgement – against one of his most sound principles.

Feeling is the greatest vulnerability of all.

The moist noises emerging from their inseparable mouths and the rustling of fabric against fabric were the only sounds in the room. 

When Julian made a tentative attempt to break the kiss he was warned by a playful bite to his upper lip. But he wasn’t in the mood for surrender tonight. He started to gnaw at Garak‘s marked chin sending impulses of pleasure through the Cardassian’s body. He had to let out a sigh – and his lover go.

Garak would have lost his balance if there hadn’t been the hard barrier of a column right behind him. He felt like he was  falling into a canyon – further and further – as Julian was tracing every scale on his sensitive neck with his agile tongue. Garak’s fingernails scraped along the metal surface, and when he eventually closed his mouth it was so dry that he could only whisper hoarsely, “Julian, you –“ he gulped, “you don’t know what you’re doing to me, koadak!”

“And you can’t imagine what I’ll do to your shirt if you don’t show me how to open it properly,” he replied sliding his soft hand under the low cut cloth, menacingly applying single bites along Garak’s collarbone after every word.

“A – ah!” 

A rush of pain flooded the Doctor’s system when he was deliberately pushed against the wall opposite the column. In the half-dark the Cardassian’s eyes gleamed in his glistening grey face.

“If we’re going to do this, my Terran friend, we’re going to do it – the Cardassian way,” he hissed through his clenched teeth.

And when Garak dug his teeth in Julian’s tender neck, he couldn’t help a moan of astonishment escape his throat.

But the predator ceased once he noticed eager lips and teeth nibbling and kissing along every single scale of his sensitive neck-ridge. He squared his massive shoulders in delight and moved his hands off the cold surface of the wall up the warmth of Julian’s slender hips, up his flank and between his back and the wall to grip his shoulder blades. That was Julian’s chance to take revenge and he ground his back against his challenger’s hands.

Garak groaned vibrantly against Julian’s body and fluttered his eyelids.

“Pain,” his Terran emulator remarked among shallow breaths, “is close – to pleasure, Elim. You should know that.”

“I don’t know what advantage you would gain from this venture. My hands are tied...”

Julian felt an increasing hardness against his thigh. He lifted his leg a little and moaned with half-closed eyes, “And how would you benefit from this, my dear tailor?”

His long arms slid up the spinal ridge, pinching every curve along the way up Garak’s back. “Now tell me – how I can free you from the emerald-green confinement that keeps me from -” Julian pierced the Cardassian’s flesh through the thick material with his fingers, “- continuing my exploration of your various scale patterns.”

“The zipper – just a little bit further up – there,” Garak purred. 

His back was naked in an instant. Soon Julian released his captive so he could stretch out his arms to drop the rest of the top.

“How very convenient,” he remarked and lost no time slapping his hands on the leathery skin, tracing the corded ridge that ran from shoulder to shoulder down to the middle of the Cardassian’s expanding chest and centred in a teardrop shaped protrusion.

Garak noticed Julian’s hesitance and chuckled, “Just as on my forehead, I have the feeling the locak were made for your kisses.”

The Terran lifted his flushed grinning face and found Garak’s devious expression most inviting, so he flicked his tongue in and around the protrusion. Garak’s fingers cupped the back of his head, twisted his curls till he took advantage of their positioning to dart to the zipper on the Doctor’s uniform at the back of his throbbing neck. First the blue and black jacket, then the grey turtle neck went to the ground.

“An expert’s fingers no doubt...” Julian murmured against Garak’s scales and nuzzled the exquisite patterns on either side of the loc that grew darker towards the centres till grey merged into deep smoky blue. When Garak stepped back to let him strip to the waist, he noticed that his whole skin colour had changed from the familiar light grey to a darker shade, and especially the ridges had gained that hue. Julian’s heart beat faster. He turned round to pull the rest of his uniform off. 

The older man was leaning against the column sucking in his breath at the image in front of him. The low  Dominion lighting could not diminish the golden glow of the young man’s skin – in fact, its glory in addition to the broad shoulders and the lean figure defied the cheerless ambience. The blood was throbbing through his ridges, and not only his scales had erected at the mere sight of his lover.

“Touch me, if you don’t believe it...” Julian purred only half-turning his head. He did not have to wait long till two serpentine arms came slithering from close behind him – around his waist, up his chest and scraping down his belly. Muscles writhed under taut skin, and Julian released a heart-breaking gasp as he was intimately caressed on his erection nipples at the same time. The Cardassian left traces of flames along Julian’s throat when he flung his head on the other man’s shoulder. He was thrust into the centre of Cardassian love-making: sensing skill and dexterity within the overwhelming endeavour in his partner’s physical power. 

The half-dark illuminated the twilight between the two creatures: silver to gold, rough to smooth, pain to pleasure, every bite followed by a kiss, every scratch by a caress. The one who let go was captured by the other. The Terran couldn’t see, only feel the touch, the embrace, the penetration from behind him, the sensation of the being with the one he desired above all filling him warmth, thrusting so intensely that his soul seemed to hover above him.  One last thrust, and Julian pushed backwards so that his lover crashed against the column. Garak slid downwards with a trail of cutaneous effluence along the icy metal till it was only the closeness to Julian that kept him from returning to his earlier state.

And there they sat on the hard floor, a Cardassian crouched behind a Terran with his strong legs wrapped around him and his arms cradled by the other’s, nearness shielding them from the cold that threatened to creep up from underneath them like the remains of their previous lives. 

  * * *

“Elim?” Julian whispered huskily. But he didn’t expect an answer for his lover’s mouth was muffled. He tried to shake him off his shoulder gently, but Garak’s lips and teeth wouldn’t let go of his skin. The bite only tightened.

“Elim, we’ve got to go...” Julian tried again.

The response was a passionate sequence of sucking kisses along his shoulder and neck savouring the salty taste of sweat that decorated his skin like Lekarian pearls. The violent embrace nearly crushed the man. But it wasn’t that that caused the pain.  The Cardassian raised a brow-ridge and cast his eyes downwards. 

“Mmh – another drug has determined my emotional frame of mind. I started to weigh out each of your Terran facial and verbal expressions and body language to be able to judge your attitude to me.”

Julian beamed.  “You did?”

“Oh, of course only in my head,” he continued in a low voice. “One should never miss an op...” 

“...opportunity to train one’s mind,” Julian finished off.

“Ah, there you see. I would have been in a rather good mood today because I would have realised that you had been listening carefully to my lessons.”

“I must say, I’ve always been fascinated by espionage, especially when it involved you, plain and simple Garak,” the younger man growled in the other’s ear, “but we’ve got to help the others get out of here, not least for our sake.”

Garak’s eyes discoursed and his arms dropped from Julian’s waist. His voice became flat and numb, “I’m not going back there.”

“Elim, do you want us to rot in this hellhole?”

“As far as I’m concerned, I haven’t found it particularly unpleasant.”  He felt how his lover’s heart sank and added stroking his cheek, “I - I’m sorry. The interrogations must have been terrible.”

“No, no!” Julian shouted, “not just the interrogations. The solitary confinement. The uncertainty of returning home or even survival.”

Garak took Julian by the arm and wanted to drag him out. “Then we’ve got to get out of here , come on!” 

But Julian only lifted his head. “What changed your mind?” 

“I didn’t want to fulfil my father’s last will,” he answered quite plainly.

“You mean, you wanted to take the risk of dying here, just because he said you were to escape and live?!”

“Exactly.”

Then Garak cupped Julian’s chin and said, “I’ve got to get used to not being a loner anymore. I’m doing this for you, tacate, because...” and he kissed him.

~end~