***

Bashir piled the three supply containers onto the biobed, hopped up
beside them, and beamed down from the runabout into Garak's sewing
room.  The Cardassian had moved all the rooms's regular furnishings up
against the walls, leaving ample space for the doctor to set up his
surgery.  He activated the biobed's energy source and opened the first
container, sorting its contents by the order of the planned procedures.
He hadn't been there for more than a minute or two, however, when he
heard several piercing screams, followed by a repeated anxious cry of
"He's going to catch me, he's going to catch me." *Damn* Bashir swore
*Kadz must be that one in a thousand Cardassians in whom cloptamarine
induces nightmarish hallucinations.  Elim will be delighted if he's been
having to listen to that for long!*

He had to open the second container and rummage through it before he
came up with the anesthetic he planned to use for the boy's surgery.
Loading a hypospray, he took off at a brisk pace for the guest room at
the other end of the hall.  By the time he reached the doorway, however,
the screaming had died down into a few whimpers.  The doctor halted at
the threshold to take in an unexpected tableau.  Garak was seated by
Kadz's bed, his back to Bashir. His index and middle fingers were
stroking the two bone-ridges that ran along the boy's  jawline and met
at a thirty degree angle just below the ear.  "Shh, shh now," he said
softly.  "You're safe here.  He can't hurt you any more." With his other
hand, Garak was caressing the youngster's hair.  Moxh, sensing her
brother's distress, had retreated to a corner of the room, where she was
signing emphatically to no one in particular.

Kadz's own hands groped about wildly until he grabbed onto the one with
which Garak was stroking his face.  He nuzzled against it with his
cheek, heaving several contented sighs.  "Mmm Mo-mo, Mo-mo," he finally
whispered.

Julian stepped deliberately into the room and laid his hand on Garak's
shoulder.  The Cardassian didn't flinch.  Well, Julian hadn't really
imagined that he could sneak up on one of the Obsidian Order's finest.
"He's not always a contemptible piece of filth, is he, Elim?" he said,
leaning down to inject Kadz with the anesthetic.

Garak extracted his hand from the boy's grasp with great care and got
up.  "No, not always," he replied. Then he shook off  his tender mood
and gave the doctor that little smirk so familiar from countless lunch
table debates.  "Only when he's awake."
 

***

The surgery took three hours.  Bashir did the trickiest procedure first,
the one that required Garak's hands in support of his own: the
reconstruction of the shattered leg.  He had to piece the fragments
together and then attach the ragged bone ends one to the other with
synthetic skeletal grafts.  Both knee and ankle also had to be
replaced.  To assure that the limb would heal straight, he put pins
through the two artificial joints and attached four external knee to
ankle rods to brace the leg and hold it immobile.  This done, he sent
Garak off to bed.  Moxh had evidently been impressed sufficiently by the
Cardassian's recent solicitude toward Kadz that she allowed him to lead
her to the couch and tuck her in for what little was left of the night
before he retired himself.

Bashir's genetic enhancements allowed him to function at his peak
through extended periods with very little sleep, but he was more than
ready to crawl into his own bed as the first murky light appeared above
the horizon.  He took off his uniform and threw it into a chair, told
the computer to awake him in two hours, and was snoring softly two
seconds after his head settled into the pillow.

He awoke to what passed for blazing sunlight on Cardassia Prime and knew
that he had slept for far more than two hours.  A check of the
chronometer revealed his slumber's duration to be in fact nearly six.
He scrambled up to go check on his patient, but before he'd even got his
shirt on,
he encountered Garak at the door bearing a tray of hot Tarkalean tea and
buttered scones
"Just sit back down on your bed, doctor.  Your breakfast is right here,"
his friend said.

"I have to see if Kadz is doing all right,"Bashir protested.

"He is.  I've been checking on him regularly."

"But you're not a doctor."

"No, but I do know what normal Cardassian life signs look like, and
which abnormalities indicate a crisis," Garak responded smoothly. "I can
assure you that the boy's condition is quite stable." He produced a PADD
from under the napkin, "This is the last five hours' readout from the
biobed.  You can look it over while you drink your tea."

Julian reluctantly got back into bed and took up the PADD in one hand
and the teacup in the other.  Garak was right, the life signs were just
as they should be.  But they indicated that the patient had come out of
the anesthesia three hours earlier.  "He's been conscious?" the doctor
inquired, taking a bite out of a scone.

"Not entirely focused, but conscious, yes.  A little scared, too,
although he tried to hide it.  Whether the source of the fear was me or
that contraption on his leg, I'm not sure." Garak observed with his
customary irony.  "I told him that you would explain everything to him
shortly and gave him a bowl of taspar broth.  He ate about half of it
before he dropped off to sleep again."

Bashir wolfed down the second scone and drained the rest of the tea.
"Thanks for playing nurse and letting me sleep, Elim.  I'll go see to
him myself now."

"Julian, don't, not yet."  Garak's tone was half command and half plea.
As the doctor's brow creased in puzzlement, the Cardassian quickly
divested himself  of his clothes and slid into the bed, his agile
fingers moving over those places that produced in  Julian the swiftest
arousal.  Then he turned over on his belly and spread out his legs.  "My
dear, I want you to come inside me, I want us to be as close as lovers
can be."

"Elim, how can you be asking me this, after what happened last night?"
Julian's mouth was hanging open in disbelief.  "We agreed we would take
things slowly from now on."

"Please, don't argue with me," Garak urged.  "It's what I want, and I
want it now."

Bashir bent over and massaged the powerful neck. His cock ached to find
its way into the welcoming cleft, but he held himself back.  "You're
sure?"  he whispered into Garak's ear.  "I don't want you to subject
yourself to something that feels like a violation, just to please me."

Garak thrust his hips upward, brushing his buttocks against the doctor's
erect organ.  "A silly prejudice," he gasped.  "Please, Julian, come
inside me now."

Bashir  hardly needed further persuasion, his own desire had grown so
powerful. Yet he couldn't get rid of the fear that he would make some
false move that would sunder them forever. *You can't be overpowering
him in any way.  It's a joining.  You're becoming one.  Every moment of
pleasure must be secondary to that*  he told himself.  He entered
slowly, gently, wrapping his legs around Garak's as he ran  his hands
rhythmically up and down the Cardassian's powerful gray arms. Very
gradually the force and speed of his thrusts increased as their
reciprocal sounds of pleasure struck up an almost musical counterpoint.
As Julian approached his release, Garak took his lover's hand and drew
it to his own fully expressed cotton candy.   The Cardassian came in the
doctor's hand a fraction of a second before Bashir stiffened and then
relaxed with the rhythm of  his own orgasm.  He withdrew quickly and
tumbled off Garak, seeking his lover's face and covering it with wave
after wave of kisses.  He felt absolutely overwhelmed with pure joy.
"Oh, Elim, I've never loved anyone so much as I love you now," he
sighed.

Garak stroked Julian's  hair with both hands and sent his tongue probing
deliciously deep into the human's mouth, but suddenly the doctor broke
off the kiss and sat upright, clutching the discarded covers to him. "Uh
oh, we've got company," he yelped, pointing to the doorway, where Moxh
was standing, studying them with rapt attention.  The minute Bashir's
eyes lighted on her she skittered away.

Garak laughed heartily. "You can tell, my dear boy, that I'm not used to
having children in the house.  I never even thought to lock the door."

Before Julian could say anything further, the voice of Kadz echoed from
the end of the hall.  "Hey, hey, if you twofies is through fucking each
other, this studder here is *starving.*"

Garak got out of bed and put his clothes back on.  "The operation has
been a success, doctor, and your patient obviously is on the way to a
full recovery," he observed, with an amusement tempered by an equal dose
of  annoyance. "Shall I prepare the meal for his highness?"

***

Julian still had eight days leave to spend with Elim, but it was clear
that they were also going to have to share the precious time together
with Kadz and Moxh.  Garak immediately laid down some ground rules,
which he asked the doctor to communicate to their guests, since both
children were still deeply distrustful of their host.  They were to
learn and observe the  rudimentary elements of Cardassian hygiene.  The
makeshift infirmary would be the place they both ate and slept; they
were under no circumstances to intrude on Garak's bedroom when both he
and his lover were in it. Nor were they to interrupt the meals Garak and
Bashir shared in the kitchen.

The twins' ragged clothing was filthy and blood-stained beyond
restoration, so Garak made them each a set of sleeping robes, two
daytime outfits, and also provided the unfamiliar novelty of several
pairs of underwear.  He also replicated for each a tooth polisher, a
scale buffer, and a comb.  Moxh, especially, was delighted with these
new toys, and spent hours grooming her bed-ridden brother, who tolerated
her efforts without protest, although he was obviously mortified at the
spectacle he presented every time Bashir walked in to check up on him.

Today was the third since the surgery. Garak had a council meeting that
promised to take up the entire afternoon.  Julian, reading in the living
room,  had just managed to sort out all the guilts in one of the enigma
tales in Garak's library--his first complete success after struggling
through a half dozen of the damned things.  He rose and stretched, then
decided to go in and examine his patient. The doctor had by observation
picked up the meaning of a number of Moxh's signs, and he gestured to
her to leave off styling her brother's hair so that he could make his
examination.  She hopped down with a smile and took up one of the sewing
tools Garak had shown her how to use after he noticed her fascination
with how he pieced the various cloth shapes together in order to produce
their garments.  She had gathered some of  the various scraps from his
recycle basket, and, climbing onto her own bed, the girl took up again
her project of attaching them together in a number of fantastic
configurations.

The doctor ran his scanner over Kadz's leg and smiled with satisfaction
at what it told him.  The natural and synthetic bones were knitting
together well.  He clapped the boy on the shoulder.  "Your leg is coming
along splendidly, Kadz. Tomorrow I think we'll start letting you put
some weight on it.  I imagine you're more than ready to get out of bed,
eh?

"Sure, sure," the boy replied without enthusiasm, his attention focused
not on his physician but on his sister.   Then he turned toward Bashir
with an unusually earnest expression. "Fedder, the old twofie bought
Moxh fair up.  I know the girls don't excite him, but maybe he could
keep her as his slavey, let her clean and fix, so's he don't have to
mind about the dirty work?"

"Garak wouldn't want her here, Kadz. He only pretended to buy Moxh so he
could get you both out of his home as quickly as possible."

"Oh, that's a ruffler."  The boy's countenance was glum.

"Why would you want her to be his ‘slavey' anyway?"

"Sure you've grabbed it, Fedder, how happy she is in this gitter house.
Soft bed, clean clothes, food for the asking. Kadz won't ever get her
those, no matter how hard he sports.  She's never been as strong as me,
and ever since her acci died, she don't have much heart for the work.
After that Klingon, I don't think she'll ever do a sport again. Kadz
can't get enough on his own to keep us both." He lifted up his broken
leg and tapped it up and down on the bed several times.  "Can't even get
enough to keep myself these moons.  Moxh stays with the twofie, at least
Moxh don't starve."

The doctor just stared at him for a second.  *What have you been
thinking Bashir?  You're going home in less than a week, and you know
that Elim's only letting them stay here to indulge you.  What exactly
did you suppose was going to happen to them when you'd gone? Maybe Elim
is right to distrust compassion.* Shaking off such doubts, however, he
grasped the boy's shoulder and said to him earnestly, "Don't worry.
I'll see to it that neither one of you starves."

Kadz  shook his head.  "That Damar, the one in our park, used to come on
the big screens.  Once he told us  those Fedders always think they can
save everyone just by wishing.  Kardasi know there's plenty of
things--nobody can save," he said pointedly.

"Well, despite Damar, I prefer to cling to my Federation delusions a
little longer," Bashir responded stiffly, and left the room.

He went immediately to Garak's comm console and logged on.  The girl's
deafness might actually provide an opportunity for placing her.  He
searched his enhanced memory.  Which one of his medical school
classmates was it who had gone into speech and audiology?  Right, Bhatt,
the one with the hearing-impaired  parents.  "Computer, find comm
location for Bhatt, Dr. Adger V. .. .

 ***

"So Adger Bhatt told me about the research his sister was doing into
gestural communication, and she told me about the Institute on
Camerzion."  Julian was in full explanatory mode, excitedly filling
Garak in over dinner of the positive results of his search for a better
life for Moxh. "The Camerz have no vocal chords--their mouths go
directly into their stomachs.  They communicate with their hands and
their facial expressions.  They're the leading experts on all kinds of
sign language in the galaxy, and they maintain a training program for
gestural speakers from non-gestural species. Of course there's a waiting
list a kilometer long, but they reserve spaces for any subjects needed
by their resident scholars.  As luck would have it, Professor Bhatt is a
linguist who studies gestural systems unique to a few individuals.
She'll take Moxh to the Institute and map out the system she and Kadz
use with each other.  In return she'll teach the girl one of the
standard gestural languages that universal translators can handle.  And
the Camerz are also working on a chip that can be implanted behind the
retina and then convert speech into sign.  She might not want to go that
far, but at least she'll have the choice and--" Bashir stopped for
breath, at the same time noticing Garak's preoccupied air "--you stopped
listening to me about five minutes ago."

"You've found the girl a school where she will learn to communicate with
someone other than that reprobate brother of hers," Garak said.  "I've
heard every word you've said.  I don't suppose they are going to invite
*him* to Camerzion also?"

"Professor Bhatt will want to observe the two together. I was hoping
that you'd let them stay on here until she arrives next week.  But, no,
she won't be taking Kadz with her.  I-I suspect you'll have to send him
to me on the station.  He'll probably cause as many problems as that
young Jem'Hadar Odo tried to tame, but I can't think of any other
alternative until his leg heals."

"I think it would be better for all concerned if Kadz remained here."

"I agree that he shouldn't necessarily leave Cardassia, but there's no
way he can survive on the streets now," Bashir replied.

"You misunderstand, Julian.  I meant that Kadz should remain here, in my
house."

"You can't be serious," Bashir exclaimed.  "The very sight of him makes
you livid."

"Ah, but the sight of *you*  makes me indescribably happy.  You'll want
to check up on him often, like the dedicated physician you are.  If
he's here, that gives you an excellent excuse to come see me. You know
I'm never without my ulterior motives."

"I don't  need any excuses to come see you.  I love you."

"Not an excuse, then, but an explanation-- to your colleagues, in case
you'd rather not tell them about your devious Cardassian lover," Garak
said.

"Look, Elim, I'm not ashamed of our relationship. If  this is about my
not resigning my post on DS9--"

Garak put his hand to Bashir's lips.  "Of course it's not. I don't
expect you to change everything in your life just because we're lovers.
As Preloc says, ‘To have one's beloved in one's arms for only an hour
suffices if one's beloved dwells always in one's heart.' Besides, I'm
probably doomed to end up Cardassian ambassador to Bajor, and you'll
eventually have more than enough of me in your quarters every night
complaining about quarrelsome Kais  and Vedeks and First Ministers.  In
the meantime, you must allow me my little intrigues .  I can't let my
skills get rusty."   He folded his napkin and reached for Julian's empty
plate .  "I'll clear up, and then we can go find out how well our guests
take to the new futures we have mapped out for them."

***

The doctor went in alone to tell Kadz of the plans for Moxh.  The boy
listened to him intently.  When Bashir had completed his recitation, he
inquired, "This Ins-ti-tute that will study Moxh, you're sure it's no
hospital to cut her up?"

"Of course not! It's really a school. The researchers will learn from
Moxh, and she'll learn from them.  She'll have a room all to herself and
everything she wants to eat."

"Can't say no then," Kadz beamed.

"Now Kadz, you do realize that Camerzion  is very far away.  You and
Moxh may not see each other for a very long time.  I know how close you
are.  It may be hard."  The doctor didn't want to deceive the boy that
the advantages of the proposition came without any cost.

"Hard, yes, but has to be," Kadz said.  "Better that Moxh gets close to
other studders than Kadz.  Lately she's been talking that no one does
her like her brother, wants us to go off  by ourselves and have some
accies.  Guess she thinks their food's going to fall from the sky. But
even if it did, we can't be doing the rest. Ara Beldon, the one that
knows all about how babies come, she says that it's not the best thing
for sisters to have accies with their brothers."  He turned an inquiring
countenance toward Bashir.  "That true, Fedder?"

The doctor did everything in his power not to sound judgmental.  "Yes,
it's not at all the best thing , Kadz."

The boy sucked in his breath sharply. "Then she'll go to the Institute,
and Kadz will stay behind.  If I tell her slow, she'll be ready when the
study woman comes to take her."

"Good man," Bashir said, impressed at this unexpected capacity for
self-sacrifice.  "It's not just Moxh who'll be well cared for, though.
Garak has agreed to let you stay with him until your leg is better.
Here he is to tell you about it himself."  This was the cue for Garak to
enter, but before he had taken two steps into the room, Kadz delivered
his analysis of the situation.

"It's fair, I nabbed his keepings, cheated him out of the latinum rock.
He gets more from working me than calling sec."  He looked Garak up and
down with an appraising eye.  "Won't be so bad.  Kadz  been fucked by
half the twofies on Prime, lots of  them older and uglier than he is."

"No, no, you've got it all wrong.  Garak isn't demanding anything in
return for his hospitality--certainly not sexual favors."

"Why else would a gitter keep an acci around?" Kadz asked skeptically.

Behind him, Bashir heard Garak suck in his breath, much as Kadz had done
moments before.  "No other reason Kadz. Except that I'm not a gitter,
I'm an acci, just like you."

"You lie!" the boy declared.

"Frequently.  However, this happens to be the truth."  Kadz looked with
incredulity at Bashir, seeking confirmation.  The doctor nodded.

"Can't grab it.  No acci gets a big house like this.  ‘Cept maybe the
Jemmies got his keeper, and he's just squatting."

"My mother's . . . keeper took an interest in  me when I was small,"
Garak explained.  "He gave me the opportunity to learn what he could
teach me, so I could become an asset to the state, rather than a
nuisance to it.  I'm willing to pass on that opportunity to you."

"Why?  You don't even like me."

"And I imagine I will like you even less before our time together has
ended.  However, these days Cardassia is in no position to throw away
any of its people, even impudent street boys."

"I hope you can appreciate the chance Garak is offering you," Bashir
intoned sententiously, all the while wondering why this was the first he
was hearing of this motivation for Elim to keep the boy with him.

Garak raised his eye-ridges slightly at Julian's pronouncement.  "The
doctor has however mislead you in respect to my requiring nothing in
return for my hospitality.  Becoming capable of productive service to
the state will require extremely hard work from you."

Kadz hardly looked overjoyed at the prospect.  "Kadz says no thanks, you
call sec,  right?"

Garak grabbed Bashir hard by the wrist to forestall any indignant denial
by the doctor.  "That's right. Hard work for me or hard labor for the
security forces."

"Guess you win then, old twofie."

Garak stepped forward and grabbed both the boy's wrists even harder than
he had Bashir's.  "All right Kadz.  We're going to have your first
lesson right now.  Kardasi is a rich and beautiful language.  You will
use it properly and respectfully in this house.  The correct response is
"I accept your offer, Garak."

"I accept your offer, *Garak*" the boy spat out, his eyes blazing
defiance.

"Good."  The Cardassian released his grip. He gave Kadz his
characteristic little mocking bow of the head and walked out.

*Whew, what a battle of wills this is going to be* Bashir thought to
himself.  Before going out himself, he bent down and said to his
patient.  "Before you think about taking Garak on, Kadz, let me give you
a little advice.  He's the man who made it possible for your Damar to
drive the Jemmies out.  After facing down the leader of the whole
Dominion, I don't think he'll have any trouble with you."

And Kadz, his eyes as big as Prime's two moons at full,  for once had
not a word to say.

***
The day he had to return to Deep Space Nine came all too soon for Julian
Bashir.  Being apart from Elim, having to explain things to Ezri--it
wasn't going to be easy.  Yet the joy these past days had given him made
any future difficulties appear eminently surmountable.  He smiled as he
folded each of the six pairs of the briefest of silver silk briefs his
lover had made for him and packed them at the top of his travel bag.
"The more I have to peel off that lovely body of yours," Elim had said,
"the more satisfying it is."  Julian then closed the bag's fasteners,
picked up his uniform jacket from the bed and put it on.  A glance at
the antique Cardassian chronometer told him that they wouldn't have to
leave for the spaceport for another quarter hour.  He sighed and went
into the living room.

Garak was sitting on the couch studying a PADD; Moxh, curled up beside
him, was concentrating on piecing together a pile of colored cloth
squares according to a simple pattern Garak had provided.  In contrast
to these two still figures was Kadz, fidgeting like mad in his seat in
front of the computer console.  The boy took Bashir's entrance as a
welcome cue to swivel his chair around and hop up on his good leg.  He
limped energetically toward the doctor and reached for his bag.  "Ready
to go, Fedder?  Kadz will take that out and beam it to the runabout."

Garak rose and put his hand on Kadz's shoulder.  "Kadz will do no such
thing.  Kadz will go back to the computer and attend to his lessons."

"Lessons?  Stupid time-wasting more like--ugh" As the boy was in the
middle of his protest, Garak's  hand slid up the neck bones, provided a
little pressure, and Kadz was suddenly flailing like a sea-gettle washed
up on shore. Garak caught him before he fell, dragged him back to the
computer, and with another touch to his neck restored his muscle
control.

Despite the painful correction, Kadz was unrepentant.  "Aw, Garak what's
the good of lessons for an acci?"

"I've told you that you'll have no chance of getting off the streets and
being of service  to the state unless you acquire some useful skills."

"Sure, sure. And then what?  Cleaner at Central Waste Extraction's the
best state service they'd trust to the likes of Kadz.  I'd rather stay
with the sportin'"

"Until another Klingon you insult decides to finish the job?" Garak
inquired acidly. This reminder of his failure finally sufficed to quell
the boy.  He leaned forward, crossing his arms on the desk and balancing
his chin on them with a surly expression.  "Kadz got honor too, not just
those Klingon gitters," he muttered.

Julian patted him on the head. "Of course you do," he said earnestly,
casting a reproachful look at Garak, who however showed no remorse. *
True, that it's  a hard case to make when you've named yourself after
your own testicles* the doctor thought.  That thought led to a question.
"Kadz, did your mother ever call you and Moxh by different names than
you have now?"

The boy nodded, "Jilana"--he motioned toward his sister-- "and Jogal.
Rich gitter names. Our mo-mo was a dreamer."  Kadz gave a little snort.
"How our street mates laughed when we said ‘em..  Dropped ‘em soon
enough for names more fitting."

Garak knelt beside the boy and held him with his famous interrogator's
stare.  "Listen, you learn what I can teach you, and I promise you that
I'll find you work far more to your liking than either sporting or waste
extraction maintenance."

The boy regarded him with suspicion. "No lies, Garak?"

"No lies, Jogal." Garak insisted.  "Now, while I take Dr. Bashir to the
spaceport, you will therefore memorize every single symbol on those five
screens and be able to reproduce them for me, in order, by the time I
return.  Is that understood?"

"Understood, Garak." Kadz sighed loudly and screwed up his face into an
exaggerated representation of concentration as he stared at the
computer.

"And the next time I come back to check on your leg, you can amaze me
with your powers of recall," Bashir said.

The boy's face brightened .  "Will do Fedder.  And you can count on Kadz
to see the old twofie here don't get too lonesome those moons, case
you're worried."

Garak's hand hovered over the boy's shoulder again.  "Ah, my dear pupil,
another lesson you're going to learn is the positive effect of
abstinence in cultivating self-discipline."

"Hey, hey, a sport can't do lessons all the time."

The hand moved lower, but did not go for the nerve.  "True.  And when
you need some relaxation, you can do some needlework. Perhaps you have
as natural an aptitude as your sister."

Kadz laughed.  "Studders don't do no sewing, not this one at least."

"I hardly think that someone who boasts that he's ‘been fucked by half
the twofies on Prime' is going to suffer any further damage to his
masculinity  because he knows how to hem a pair of trousers in an
emergency."  The hand rested lightly on the boy's shoulder.  Kadz
lowered his eyes and chewed on his lip. He reached up and carefully
removed Garak's hand. "Kadz has to work on his screens," he muttered.
Garak stepped back and said, "I think we should be going, Julian."

Bashir clapped Kadz heartily on the back, but the boy shrugged him off
and continued to stare at the computer display.  The doctor then went
over to Moxh and gave her a hug and planted a kiss on her forehead.  She
favored him with a dazzling smile and one of her little happy sounds.
He'd figured out the sign she used for good-bye and made the gesture to
her.  The smile faded.  The girl bent down and returned to her sewing.
Evidently she and her brother handled partings by ignoring them. Garak
had already stepped outside, and Bashir, feeling ever more reluctant to
go, nevertheless saw no further reason to linger.

Garak carefully programmed the outside door locks and then tilted the
transporter device around his wrist toward Bashir.  "Shall we?" he
asked.
 

***

In these last few minutes alone together in the runabout before they
would have to part for at least a  month, Julian knew he should not
breathe a word about Kadz, who always seemed to be annoyingly tangled up
in their relationship.  Yet he had nagging doubts as to whether leaving
the boy with Garak was a good idea.  "Elim," he ventured, "don't you
think you're being awfully hard on Kadz- on Jogal?"

"Julian, every day of that boy's life he's learned that gentleness, that
*compassion* are weaknesses he should relentlessly exploit in others and
crush absolutely in himself if he's going to survive.  He never thanked
you for saving his life, did he?  And he never will.  If there is even
the slightest chance he is to learn to respect himself, to set worthy
goals and persevere until he meets them, to become anything more
meaningful to his devastated planet than a sexual parasite, then I
cannot afford to let up on him for a minute." Garak paused and shook his
head.  "It's probably too late.  He's done as he pleases during all the
years that properly raised Cardassian children learn to subordinate
their wilfulness to the greater good of the state."

"What will happen to him, if you fail?"

"When his injuries are healed, I'll send him back where he came from.
He'll be no worse off  there for my tutelage.  On the slight chance that
he applies himself  to his lessons in good faith--well, the government
is establishing residential schools for the many orphans the Dominion
has left us with, and if the boy had my recommendation, the authorities
would probably not look too closely into his background.  I warn you
though, my dear Julian, if  that happens, and he should come to us on
his holidays, I will *not* have you destroy all my hard work by
infecting him with your sentimental Federation ideas."

Bashir leaned over and kissed him.  "Oh, Elim, I *do* love you," he
said.

"So you have convinced me."

Bashir felt a twinge of disappointment. *Come on, you didn't really
expect him to say he loved you, not this soon. That would be just as
likely as an expression of gratitude from Kadz.*

However, Garak had already deciphered his lover's countenance.  "You're
unhappy, are you, that I didn't return your declaration of affection?"

"No, it's all right, Elim.  I know you're not the type to wear your
heart on your sleeve."

"What a gruesome expression!" Garak said with a teasing air.  "But
surely you're aware how often I've told you I love you."

Bashir wrinkled his nose to nearly Bajoran proportions to express his
exasperation.  "Really, Elim, I don't think that's something I would
have forgot!"

"Why, Julian, my dear, I tell you I love you every time I ask you to
come inside."

--end--

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