CALCULATED RISK
"You're in love with him."
The Trill didn't intend it to be a question--merely a statement of fact. Garak never even twitched a brow ridge. He simply continued to run the sizing scanner down the back of her dress. Jadzia Dax stood, arms raised, perched very still on the dais in Garak's clothier shop. She was draped in cream-colored gauze, which hung off the shoulder, and hugged the curves of her figure, stopping just above the knee.
"Really Lieutenant, I don't know why you went with this dress," Garak said in mock admonishment. "So many adjustments to be made. And I'm not sure the color is all that flattering." He successfully ignored her statement.
"Well I like it. I like the color. I like the dress. Just fix it . . . and you're evading the subject!" Dax was not to be put off.
"And what subject is that, madam?" Garak could parry with the best of them.
Dax shifted to look over her shoulder at the tailor. "You know . . ." she started. Garak shot her a disgusted look.
"Lieutenant, if you don't stop wiggling around, we'll be here all afternoon! And I, for one, have other plans."
The Trill turned back with a "hrummph", and stared straight out in front of her. With a sigh, she made another attempt. "You know perfectly well I'm talking about you and Julian."
"Ah, the good doctor." Garak paused to punch in the measurements on his data padd. He resumed scanning the hem of the dress, moving around to crouch in front of her knees. He looked slowly up Jadzia's shapely form, to meet her gaze with a mischievous smile. "Now, what was the question?"
Dax glared back at him in frustration. "I said, I think you're in love with Julian!" She stopped Garak's denial before it formed on his lips. "And don't say you're not, because I know better."
Garak stood up straight, and met her scrutiny with nary a flinch. "I have everything I need, Lieutenant." Dax furrowed her brow, quizzically. Garak nodded toward the dressing room. "You can get dressed now. I have all the measurements necessary to commence alterations."
Dax lowered her arms, and smiled almost smugly at the tailor. She stepped off the dais to stand head to head with him. She was, after all, as tall as he. "Garak . . ." she started, accusingly. The Cardassian broke in with a strangled laugh.
"My good woman, how do you expect me to answer such a ridiculous statement?" He turned abruptly, and walked over to his desk. Garak felt the Trill's eyes boring into the back of his head. He threw down the one padd on the desk top, and picked up another. He sought to give the appearance of nonchalance by skimming an inventory list he had already memorized. Dax wasn't fooled by the pretense.
"I see the way you look at him, the way you sit a little too close together when you're dining at the replimat, or at Quark's." She paused, and said a little more softly, "And I know what I saw when I walked in here this afternoon."
Garak's attention drifted, and his sight focused not on the inventory list in his hand, but on a memory just an hour old. Of a brief and, of late, rare visit by Julian Bashir. The doctor had been spending much of his free time the last couple of weeks with a young Bajoran woman. A shuttle pilot who ran medical supplies and other necessities from Bajor to DS9. With a break in her schedule, the woman had taken up temporary residence on the station to spend time with the handsome, young doctor. Garak would see them walking hand in hand along the promenade, or huddled together in intimate conversation at Quark's, or at the replimat. And though security had assigned the woman quarters, everyone knew her nights were spent elsewhere.
As such, Garak had only quick snatches of conversation with Julian in the hallways, and one scheduled and promised lunch meeting. And though Garak missed the doctor, he had no claim to his company, and never questioned those times when Julian's attention lay elsewhere. After all, though Julian was Garak's only real friend, the doctor, on the other hand, had other friends--and other interests.
But today Julian had stopped in, "just to say hi", and Garak ceased whatever mindless task he was engaged in to take advantage of the welcome respite. They talked of nothing in particular-- books each had loaned the other recently, the arrival of Betazoid scientists to the station seeking information on the Gamma Quadrant. The conversation wasn't important; but the nearness-- the being together, however briefly--was fundamental.
When the encounter drew to an end, and the doctor had to be going, Garak stalled his exit by offering a bribe. He pulled out a box of miniature K'etarian chocolate puffs he'd just purchased from a Boslic trader. Julian smiled, and shook his head.
"Garak, you do know my weaknesses." Though the doctor had meant his fondness for sweets, especially chocolate, the words held a broader interpretation for both men. They held each other's eyes a little longer than necessary. The Cardassian broke the gaze by taking a chocolate from the box and offering it to Julian.
"You must try these, Doctor. The large K'etarian chocolate puff contains 17 different varieties of chocolate. But these miniatures are potent enough, made with at least 8."
"Ooooh, I really shouldn't," Julian started, looking intently at the tasty confection offered him. "You know I have a terrible sweet tooth," he said, already reaching for the candy. "If I don't watch it, I'd eat like a 10-year-old." He laughed lightly. "And what kind of example would that set for my patients?" Julian popped the puff into his mouth, then rolled his eyes and sighed with delight at the wonderful, sugary sensation. "Mmmmmmmm . . . oh, that's incredible," he cooed.
Garak smiled fondly at the young man. He enjoyed watching him take such pleasure in even the smallest of life's experiences. He started to hand him another. Julian waved him off and said, "Please, no, Garak. I couldn't. Give me half a chance and I'll eat that whole box in one sitting."
"Really, Doctor, you can't be worried about your weight--or lack of it, I should say," Garak teased him. Julian raised an eyebrow, and looked at the Cardassian in mock sternness. Garak brought the chocolate up to Julian's lips, taunting. Instead of reaching up to grab the candy from his hand, Julian caught him unawares by leaning in to take it in his mouth, slowly wrapping his lips over Garak's fingers. The tailor knew he should pull his hand back, but was mesmerized instead by the feeling of the puff dissolving on Julian's soft tongue. The doctor closed his eyes and sucked gently on the tips of Garak's fingers. The Cardassian nearly moaned as he felt a warmth radiating through his body.
And that's when the Trill walked in.
Julian pulled back, and laughed nervously as he wiped his lips with his fingers. Garak dropped his hand, and avoided her glare in his direction.
"K'etarian puff, Lieutenant?" He shoved the box at her.
"No," she said to him, curtly. "No, thank you," emphasizing each syllable.
Julian excused himself, and quickly left the shop without a glance back.
And now here he was, alone with the lovely Lieutenant Dax, and her loathsome questions.
"I have no idea what you're talking about, Lieutenant." Garak had no patience for her meddling today. "Don't you have to go back on duty?" He kept his back to her, and continued to stare blankly at the padd in his hand.
Dax paused for a moment before turning to go into the changing room. When he heard her move away, Garak thought that was the end of it. Then she said, "I know about the night you spent with Julian."
Taken completely by surprise, Garak whirled around. But Dax had already gone into the dressing room to change. With her out of sight, the Cardassian had time to compose himself and to ponder whether or not he was simply being baited. Dax took little time to change, and emerged within minutes dressed and already wrapping her long hair back into the coiffed ponytail she always wore. With one look at her stony expression, Garak knew she was telling the truth.
Dax placed her hands on her hips and said, "That's right. He told me everything."
"I see," was all Garak could trust himself to say at this point.
Dax immediately relaxed her adversarial stance. She dropped her hands and clasped them behind her back. She moved in a little closer and said, "I don't want to see Julian get hurt."
"I see," he said again.
"Really?" she countered. "I'm not so sure you do."
Garak turned away again, and walked around to stand behind his desk. With that simple piece of furniture acting as a barrier between himself and the Trill, Garak felt confident again to speak. "On the contrary, I understand that you think I took advantage of our young friend." He paused for effect, placing both hands on the desk and leaning forward. "Are you accusing me of forcing myself on the doctor?"
Dax smiled coldly. She mimicked Garak's position by placing her own hands on the desk, and leaning in toward the tailor.
"Noooo," she started. "Not in the way you mean. But," she said emphatically, "I do think you took advantage of a situation . . . of Julian's vulnerability, and naivety."
The two were practically nose to nose. "The doctor's a big boy, Lieutenant. He makes his own decisions," Garak shot back.
"I know that. But sometimes he makes the wrong decisions." The quid pro quo continued, with neither party backing down.
"We all make wrong decisions, Lieutenant Dax." He practically spat her name out. "For instance, your decision here to confront me about a matter which is none of your business." It was Garak's turn to be smug. He smiled and said, "I think you're jealous."
Dax stood upright. "Jealous?! Jealous of what--of you?"
Garak knew he had hit a nerve. The hand played out in his favor. He straightened up and walked back around the desk to stand face to face with her. "Of me . . . of the lovely young Bajoran lady our friend is currently involved with . . ."
Dax started to interrupt, "Julian and I are just . . ."
"Just friends." Garak finished for her. "And that was your choice. But you can't honestly tell me you don't miss the way he used to pursue you. You can't tell me you weren't flattered, or tempted even a little--and I'm not referring to that slug inside you. I'm talking about you--Jadzia." When she didn't say anything, Garak pushed on. "He doesn't need you anymore--if he ever did." He meant to bruise her, if he could.
Without batting a eyelash, Dax said, "You're right, Garak." He hadn't expected her to admit it. "Maybe I am a little jealous," she continued. "After all, I do love Julian. He's a dear, sweet man--and a good friend. He's been there for me, more than once. I can't help but feel affection for him--some attraction. Maybe he doesn't need me--but he does desire my friendship. And it's because of that friendship that he confided to me about the night you spent together. About his getting drunk, about the bar fight and how you helped him out--and about what happened after that."
Garak couldn't help but feel a little betrayed. His relationship with Julian was unique in that it was the only friendship he had on the station. What they discussed in private he thought stayed between them--at least those conversations he didn't intend for the doctor to pass along. Garak had a way of letting Julian know what information he wanted spread around, and what he didn't. And certainly the night they spent together fell under that second category. Garak was concerned for Julian's reputation--for both their reputations. And now to find out he had told the Trill everything. He didn't think it possible, but he was hurt.
His demeanor must have given away his momentary maudlin, for Dax seemed to understand what he was feeling. "Garak, you've got to understand how confused Julian was after that." Her voice softened, and she laid a hand on his arm. "He needed to talk to someone." Dax tried to lighten the tone by speaking almost conspiratorially to the Cardassian. "Humans are so unsure of themselves, in many ways--in matters of sexuality in particular. Especially young humans." She smiled wistfully. "And Julian is so young. I adore him for it." Dax looked straight into Garak's face. "And I can see now, so do you." She removed her hand from his arm. "Maybe I was wrong to bring this up."
"Why did you?" he asked.
Dax resumed her cool exterior, hands clasped once again at the small of her back. "As I said, I don't want to see Julian get hurt." She paused, then continued. "Or you, for that matter."
Garak laughed bitterly. "Do you really expect me to believe that you're concerned for my welfare?"
"I'll let you in on a secret, Garak," she started. "In a way, Julian still needs you. But that's only temporary. Julian's still growing. He's exploring his hopes, desires, and dreams--and running away from nightmares. What you have to offer him is an adventure. But it's nothing that would satisfy him permanently."
"And you think that I would be so satisfied . . ." Garak's train of thought was diverted by a pulsing blue light on his computer console.
"Frankly I don't know what you want. But whatever it is, I don't want it to interfere with what's best for Julian." Dax noted the Cardassian's distraction, and followed his gaze to the console. "What's that?"
"Hmmm?" Garak was quickly brought out of his reverie by the lieutenant's immediate curiosity. "Ahh, it's nothing. Just a communique‚ coming through about a shipment I'm expecting." He slipped an arm through hers, and started to usher Dax to the door. "Now Lieutenant, if there was nothing else we had to discuss, I really have a lot of work to do, and I'm sure you must be needed back in Ops."
"Now wait a minute, Garak, you haven't answered . . ." Garak stopped her at the door.
"Yes Lieutenant Dax, I've heard everything you've said . . ."
"Bu . . ." He cut her off abruptly.
"And I will take into account what we discussed. I appreciate your concern. I really do. Now if you'll excuse me." And with that, he practically pushed her out the door of his shop.
The Trill's suspicious nature immediately kicked in, but at that moment Commander Sisko paged her to the ready room, and she had no choice but to ignore the present situation--for now.
Garak watched the lieutenant walk down to the turbolift, shooting him one last look over her shoulder. He then locked the door to his shop, and walked warily over to the desk. For a moment he simply watched the tiny beacon, the silver-blue glow casting a eerie pallor on his face. Garak sighed, and began to input the appropriate code, thinking to himself this couldn't have come at a worse time.
Alone in his quarters a few days later, having drunk one too many kanaars and touched very little of his supper, Garak had time to consider what Dax had said. She told him he was in love with Julian. Garak chuckled to himself. The Trill only guessed half the truth. In reality, he was obsessed with the young doctor. He gulped down the remaining brown liquid, then slammed the empty glass on the table top. Garak stood and walked over to the portal. He stared out at the black space, dotted with pinpoint lights. Garak thought he had memorized every star in the system, standing here, looking out this portal day after 26- hour-day. Three years in this room. He turned to survey his interior surroundings. His one-room habitat. One room, and a bath. Three years. He'd been a guest on the station for four; but when the Star Fleet compliment took over DS9, adjustments were quickly made to accommodate those personnel. Garak was moved to this room at that time. Families and officers were given the larger quarters. Julian's quarters had a living area and an adjoining bedroom. Julian's bedroom. Garak fantasized about being in that room every night--being in Julian's bedroom, in Julian's bed.
Obsession.
Nothing else could explain his actions just a week prior. Late in the evening, not wanting to face a long and lonely night sitting in Quark's bar, Garak found himself in the corridor that housed Julian's quarters. He didn't know why--his own quarters were a deck below, on the opposite side of the habitat ring. But sometimes he would stroll these hallways, on the off chance of meeting up with the doctor. Old habits. When he rounded the corner, he saw a young couple gliding slowly up ahead, brushing against each other as they walked. Even from the back, Garak didn't need the telltale blue and black uniform to recognize that the young man was Julian. Julian and his lady friend. There were no other residents in the hallway. Garak slipped back around the corner, intending to return the way he came. But something nagged at him to stay where he stood. He leaned around just far enough to be able to see up the hall. Julian and his lady had stopped outside the door to his quarters. He held her in his arms, and they kissed lazily, without urgency. Julian pressed against her, gently backing her up against the wall. Garak heard her giggling, low and throaty. They spoke in hushed tones, and he couldn't make out what they were saying. But he didn't need to hear the words to understand they were engaged in a manner of dangerous foreplay. Illicit in that it took place where anyone could appear at anytime and see what they were doing. Julian licked the ridges of her nose with the tip of his tongue. She closed her eyes, and arched her neck back allowing him to trail feather-soft kisses from her cheeks and chin, down to her breasts. He ran his hands up her sides, stopping to trace circles around her nipples, pointed and firm against the thin material of her bodice. She, in turn, played with the curls at the nape of his neck with one hand; and with the other lightly stroked the bulge at his groin, pushing against the front of his jumpsuit. Julian cupped one breast and leaned in to suck the nipple through the material. The woman moaned, and Garak was sure someone else would hear. But the man and the woman were so caught up in each other, they would never have noticed an audience. Quickly Julian dropped his hand and reached under her dress, and between her legs. She gasped, and pulled him in closer, digging her fingers into his soft, firm backside. They were kissing again, hungrily now. The woman began to pulse her hips against his hand, still hidden under the dress. Julian ground himself against her, devouring her mouth with his own. Her movements soon developed a frantic rhythm, and her moans grew louder, even against his soft mouth covering hers. Suddenly she went rigid against the wall. Her mouth opened, and she cried out. He brushed his lips against her ear, and whispered something that made her laugh softly. Finally, he removed his hand from between her legs, and called out his personal access code that released the lock on his door. They tumbled back inside, never parting from their passionate embrace.
When the couple was out of sight, Garak slumped and leaned his head against the wall. Though voyeurism was his specialty, his trademark as it were, this was pathetic. His mouth was dry, and his head hurt. He felt the familiar ache in his loins. Garak walked quickly back to the turbolift. One deck down, but not headed for his own quarters. He stopped outside the door--her door. Panting, he rang the chime. Though it was late, he knew she'd still be awake. He desperately hoped she was alone. The door slid back to reveal a Bajoran woman, in her 40's, wearing a robe. She didn't seem startled to see Garak standing there--just mildly surprised. Tam Rozyl was still a handsome woman. She had to be to continue to serve customers and work the dabo tables in Quark's bar. She'd done so since the Cardassians occupied Tereknor. The soldiers called her "Painless". Tam was a popular commodity.
"My, my, Garak," she chided him, with a sly smile. I've seen more of you in the last two months, than I have in the last two years. People will expect you to give me a betrothal bracelet, if you keep this up."
"Is that what you want?" His voice was barely more than a whisper.
She studied him intently. "What do you want?"
"I just--just had to see you, Painless." He croaked out the words. "Please let me in."
She pursed her lips, and started to shake her head. "It's very late . . . and I've had a long night. Some other time?"
"No!" He was adamant. "Tonight. I'll pay double."
"Wellll," she said, with renewed interest, and a twinkle in her eye. "I do find it hard to say no to you, Garak." Tam reached out and took his hand, pulling him inside her haven . . .
CALCULATED RISK, PT 2
Garak sought to block out the memory. He squeezed his eyes shut, and clasped his hands at the back of his head. He cursed under his breath. Garak was disgusted with himself, acting like some rutting, pubescent boy. He marched over to the table, and picked up the bottle of kanaar. He went to pour out another glass, and realized the bottle was empty. In frustration, he threw the glass against the wall, where it shattered onto the floor. He slumped down in the chair, and taking deep breaths, fought to control his anger. In reality, Garak had a fearsome temper. He'd worked for many years to control it, that rage being more detrimental to himself than anyone else. There had only been one other time recently that he let loose his temper--and it had been beyond his ability to stop it, suffering horrible withdrawal pangs from the breakdown of his cranial implant. And only one person lay witness to it. Julian Bashir. The doctor never displayed any fear, or distrust. And he never mentioned it once the whole incident was over. Julian again.
If he wanted to, Garak could blame it all on Julian. After all, it was the doctor who reached out to him for affection. It was Julian who initiated the physical relationship--that one night. There was a bit of information he should have thrown back in the Trill's self-righteous face. But Garak knew he couldn't really fault the young man. He had it within his power to refuse the offer--to say no. Julian would have backed down. But Garak wanted him, and would have him no matter what argument his own internal demons offered up. And when it was over, Garak thought he had a handle on the situation by walking out, and saying enough was enough.
But who had control of whom? Garak looked over at his own bed along the wall. In was in that bed, night after night, that he lay awake reliving his passion for Julian, to the point of unbearable frustration. Their first coupling had been frantic, almost nerve-wracking. And almost as quickly as it was over, did they try again. But that was only a little less awkward, with Garak's own rusty ardor beyond control of his ability to ease the young man's first-time nervousness. Ah, but if he had a chance to do it over again.
Over and over. That's how his fantasies ran each night. Despite the chill of the station's internal temperature, Garak had taken to sleeping naked each night in order to bring some physical dimension to his dreams. In his mind's eye he saw Julian's handsome face turned toward his--those big, dreamy eyes and full lips smiling back at him. Having had the advantage since his youth of living off world, of traveling and meeting many races, Garak could be certain of Julian's genuine beauty. Without the crutch of xenophobic eyes, he saw and appreciated fully his loveliness--and it took his breath away.
If he thought hard enough, he could almost feel Julian's slim, silky, hard body pressed up against his. The color unimaginably exquisite. Golden-brown from head to toe, like the color of kanaar. Like the smooth, delicious texture of that inebriating concoction. He imagined running his hands over every square inch of the young man's neck, chest, abdomen, arms and legs. Sleek and smooth, with fine, soft hair on his arms, long legs, and taut thighs. His fingers skittering over his stomach and slender waist, causing Julian to gasp and squirm from the ticklish sensation. He would beg Garak to stop, and so he would. Sliding his hands up his lithe body to run his fingers through the soft, brown curls of his hair, Garak would clutch a fistful in each hand, causing Julian to arch his slender neck. Garak would trail kisses, and lap his tongue over the velvety skin of his neck, tasting the a trickle of salty sweat forming there. He would rub his cheek against Julian's, feeling the fine stubble. Then he would close his mouth over the young man's, tasting his sweet breath, and sucking on his tender, soft tongue. Far away, Garak could hear the young man's moans breaking through his own growls of arousal.
And now Garak would take the time to devour the rest of Julian's beautiful body, inch by delicious square inch. He would nibble and suck every indention, and every curve. Garak remembered Julian's sensitive nipples, and he would concentrate his attentions there, licking and nipping until they were firm and swollen. By this time Julian's arousal would be building unbearably. His breath would come in short, quick pants, and he would arch his back, pressing his body firm against his partner's. Garak would wrap his arms around the small of Julian's back, kissing his stomach and lapping at the sweat pooling in the navel. Then he would bury his head between the young man's legs, drinking in the wonderful, musky scent of his sex. Garak could feel the tight, ebony curls there tickling his nose. He would slowly, and lightly lick up and down the hard shaft of his cock, then circle his tongue around the soft head. Then he would take him fully inside his mouth, once, twice, three times, not letting him build too fast. Giving him only a taste, he would remove his mouth completely despite Julian's cries of frustration. Garak would focus his attentions further down, kissing and licking his scrotum, and the soft skin between his thighs. At the same time he would stroke Julian's smooth, erect cock with one hand. By now the young man would be writhing uncontrollably. Garak would wait to hear him plead for release, beg to have Garak's mouth once again on his sex. And when Garak himself could stand it no longer, he would take Julian in again deep against the back of his throat, sucking hard and long until he tasted the warm, sticky fluid of the young man's orgasm, and heard him cry out and whimper, finally sated.
And it was at this point each night that Garak found himself in a lather of sweat, breathing hard, and aching between his own legs. He would lie on his back and grab his penis firmly with both hands. With his eyes closed, he would slowly begin to stroke himself, all the while fantasizing he was still lying atop his lover. But now Garak would devote his attentions to his own desires. He would spread wide Julian's shapely legs, and grasping his pert backside, would push himself inside the tight, inviting crevice as far as he could go. In and out, slowly at first, then building the rhythm, faster and harder. All the while he would gaze down at Julian's beautiful face, the mischievous twinkle in those liquid, brown eyes, teasing and urging Garak on. He would start to buck wildly, ramming himself inside Julian's ass, harder and farther than he thought possible. And when the tension in his cock built to an awful, unbearable peak, Garak would lean over and grab Julian's mouth with his own, exploding without abandon inside his lover . . . spilling his semen into his own trembling hands.
Trembling hands. Garak looked at his hand clasped around the empty kanaar bottle, shaking. He realized his face was wet. He could not go on like this. Perhaps it was time for him to go.
Grabbing a napkin, Garak hastily wiped his face. He threw the cloth back on the table, then got up and walked over to the desk. He ran his hands over the smooth, inlaid Cardassian design on the top. A beautiful and delicate piece of art work. It reminded him of home. Gently he pressed three, seemingly random points in the design. A drawer hidden from view and unsusceptible to scan was released. It contained only one item. Garak removed the tiny data clip, then activated the drawer to retract, once again unseen.
Behind the desk he retrieved a small, carrying case. He placed it on top of the desk, and opened it. Inside he had packed a change of clothing, a few personal items and toiletries, and the tools of his trade. Garak placed the data clip inside, then started to close the case. He paused as he noticed one other item on top of the desk that he wanted to place in there. He picked up the antique, paper-made hardcover book that Julian had given him on his birthday. "Seven Pillars of Wisdom". "It just smells like literature," Julian had joked. Garak held the book up to his nose, and inhaled. It smelled musty. He closed his eyes for a moment, then placed the book inside the case, and snapped the lid shut. The chime sounded, and it startled him. Garak looked over his shoulder at the closed door. Then he quickly stowed the case back behind the desk, and called out, "Enter."
"Good evening, Garak." The Cardassian was taken aback to see the source of his torment walking through the door at that particular moment. But he forced a smile to his lips, and said, "Why, Doctor, what a pleasant surprise. I-I must say, I didn't expect to see you this evening." Garak noticed Julian was wearing the skin-tight silver athletic suit he always wore for playing racquetball. The outfit hugged him like a second skin, accenting every firm, hard curve of his young body. Every indention, and every curve . . . Garak himself could not have designed a more suitable article to showcase that lovely frame. Julian's hair was damp, and the curls hugged his head, framing his face like a halo. Garak bit his lip to keep from groaning. "You, uh, you're not coming off duty, I see."
Julian took a quick glance down at himself. "Oh, no, I was just playing racquetball with Chief O'Brien."
"Racquetball." Garak almost whispered the word. He cleared his throat, and said, "I'm surprised you had the time. Your lady friend must be furious at missing your company." The words tasted bitter, and Julian couldn't help but note the sarcasm.
"Um, well, I don't think so. She left a couple days ago. Back to Bajor, and then a trade run to Vulcan." Julian looked at the Cardassian, questioning. "Did I come at a bad time?"
Garak realized if he wasn't careful, he'd make a fool of himself. He put on his broadest smile. "Of course not, Doctor. Please, come sit." He indicated a chair by the table. "Where are my manners? Would you like something to drink?" Garak picked up the bottle of kanaar, then shrugged his shoulders, looking somewhat sheepish. "Ah, I forgot, the kanaar is all gone."
Julian laughed lightly. "That's alright, Garak, I didn't come by for kanaar." He followed Garak to the table, removing his gym bag from his shoulder. As he placed it on the floor, there was an unmistakable crunch when it landed on a shard of glass. "What happened here?" he asked, indicating the shattered remains of Garak's recent tantrum.
"A minor accident, nothing serious. I'll clean it up later. We'll sit over there instead." He sought to steer Julian toward the couch. But the doctor bent down and started to pick up the larger pieces of glass.
"Garak, if you don't get these off the floor you're going to hurt yourself."
"DON'T DO THAT!" Julian stopped instantly what he was doing to look up and see Garak's face twisted in anger. He remained kneeling on the ground, wide-eyed with confusion at the Cardassian's outburst.
"Garak . . .?"
The Cardassian squeezed his eyes shut, and visibly took in a sharp breath. When he opened his eyes again, he forced a smile to his lips, and tried to rectify the situation.
"I just don't want you to injure yourself." He walked over and stooped to take the glass from Julian's hand. "See, you've already got a cut," indicating a drop of blood on the doctor's right forefinger.
Julian gave his finger a cursory glance, then looked back to Garak with concern. "You startled me. Why did you yell like that?"
Garak stalled, unable to give an answer. His emotions were in flux, alternating between anger and gratitude at the young man's untimely presence. He gently pulled Julian to his feet by the forearm, then simply said, "You'll need to put something on that."
The doctor furrowed his brow, and scrutinized the other man. "It's not serious. I'm more concerned about you. Are you feeling all right?"
Garak waved him off. "Forever the physician. Don't worry, Doctor, I'm not suffering a breakdown in my skull." He rubbed his eyes with one hand. "Perhaps I'm more tired than I thought."
Julian picked up the kanaar bottle. "How much of this did you drink. All of it?" he accused him.
The question elicited a strangled laugh from the other man. "You're one to talk."
"Damn-it, Garak!" Julian replaced the bottle on the table, with a thud.
The Cardassian could no longer keep his temper at bay. With a sneer, he said, "It's really none of your business what I do in this miserable room, when that door is shut. I don't interfere in your personal life. I don't care to know what you do, and with what whore you're doing it with!"
The doctor looked as though the other man had physically struck him. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"Why are you here?" Garak countered. "What do you want?"
Julian's expression was a mixture of befuddlement and malevolence. He said, pointedly, "I don't know what game you're playing tonight, Garak--but I'm not in the mood." He picked up the gym bag, and turned to leave.
"You didn't answer my question, Doctor!"
Julian turned back to him with exasperation. "What question?! You're talking in riddles, and I don't like it!" The two men glared at each other. Finally, Julian broke the stalemate. He looked down at the floor, and shook his head. When he looked back at the other man, his own hostility had waned. With a sigh, he said, "I just wanted to see you, Garak. Because you're my friend. Because I thought we were friends. And," he paused, "and because I've missed you. That's all. No mystery, no agenda. Just dropping in on a friend. I didn't realize it would effect such havoc in your life." The last part dripped sarcasm.
Garak walked up to Julian, standing no more than a few inches from his face. Abruptly, he grabbed the young man roughly at the scruff of the neck, and jerked him in for a hard, full- mouthed kiss. Julian was caught completely off guard, and pulled back, biting Garak's lip in the exchange. The Cardassian smirked at him, licking the pale-green blood pooling on his lip. Then he grasped Julian's right hand, and bringing it to his lips, sucked on the wound on his finger. The doctor was stunned, and unsure of where the scenario was leading. At the best of times, Garak's behavior was fraught with contradiction. At others, like now, it was reeling. Julian was uncertain whether to be angry, or afraid. Finally, quietly, he asked, "What are you doing, Garak?"
The Cardassian stopped sucking his finger, to tenderly kiss the palm of Julian's hand. As Julian had done to him, once. So long ago. "Garak . . ." Julian started to say. But he was cut off harshly when Garak slammed him back against the wall. With a growl, the Cardassian was on him again, pinning Julian's lean body with his own broad one, and securing his arms at his sides. Garak pressed his mouth against Julian's once again. The doctor finally dropped the gym bag he'd been clutching all this time. He started to struggle from his grip, but Garak was much stronger than he. He strained for air, and Garak released him long enough to take a breath. Then he grabbed for his mouth again, even more hungrily than before. He sought to push his tongue inside Julian's clenched lips, and began to rub his body against his.
Suddenly, Julian started to relax against him. Garak could feel the tension in his thin body give way to a baser instinct. Julian's lips parted, and Garak thrilled to the taste and feel of his soft tongue playing with his own. After a time, Garak released Julian's arms; and instead, enveloped the doctor in a fierce hug. The doctor wrapped his own arms around Garak's back, and pressed himself in tight against his body. The Cardassian could feel the firm outline of Julian's growing arousal, straining against the tight, unforgiving material. The two men continued to kiss, devouring each other with tongue, teeth and lips. Garak ran his hands up Julian's back. He found the hidden fastening, and pulled it down slowly, to the small of the back. He caressed the smooth, silky brown skin now revealed. Julian's breathing quickened. Finally, Garak pulled back and looked squarely at the young man. He noted his eyes were now clouded with desire, and Garak smiled at this. He said, smugly, "Now, tell me what you want."
"Don't tease me, Elim." Julian panted out.
Garak reached down, and placed his palm hard against the doctor's erection, and said, "What's the matter? Haven't you been getting enough sex lately?"
Julian pulled back, and took in the spiteful glint in Garak's eyes. Truly hurt, and finally embittered, he shoved the Cardassian off him, hard. Garak hadn't anticipated the young human's strength, and stumbled backwards. Julian glared at him. "Fuck you," he spat.
Garak laughed, acidly. "Whatever you want, darling. Would you like me to bend over right here?" He stopped short when he caught the venomous pall on Julian's face. His normally gentle, and fair expression overshadowed by something darker, almost sinister. Garak was taken aback. He'd gone too far, and he wasn't even sure why.
Julian's eyes misted, and abruptly he turned away. He bent down to retrieve his gym bag, remembering then that the back of his suit lay open. He reached around to pull the fastening back up. The clasp stuck, and he struggled with it, frustrated--his back all the while to the Cardassian. Garak's own animosity dissipated completely. He felt drained, and weary. He came up behind Julian, and hesitantly reached out to help him with his clothing. At his touch, Julian stiffened, but said nothing. Garak started to close the fastening, then stopped. Without thinking, he pulled it all the way open again. Almost reverently, he traced circles softly on the warm flesh. Julian flinched, too stunned to bolt. Garak pressed up against his smooth, lean back, and wrapped his arms around the doctor's waist. He buried his face in Julian's sinewy neck, and breathed in his scent. The doctor held his breath, unmoving. Garak whispered something he couldn't hear. "Wh-what," Julian stammered. The Cardassian's face was wet against his neck.
"I'm sorry." Garak said it so low, the doctor had to strain to hear it.
Julian couldn't even think at the moment. His mind raced, and his heart beat so hard, it resonated in his ears. He simply stood there, feeling Garak pressed against him--lips and tongue teasing at his neck. After many long minutes, which seemed like hours, Julian gingerly reached up behind him to stroke Garak's neck. "It's all right, Elim," he whispered, as if he were coddling a child. "It's o.k. now." He wasn't sure if he believed what he was saying. Garak let out a sound--a cross between a moan and a sob. Julian wasn't angry, just hurt. And that pain diminished with each passing minute. With a little more confidence, the doctor said, "I just wish you wouldn't play games with me. I want you to tell me what's wrong--what it is you want from me."
Garak let out a sigh. "It's pathetically obvious what I want."
Julian was sure of that, at least. The realization made his heart ache. Gently he disengaged himself from Garak's embrace, and turned to face him. The look on the Cardassian's face told him all he really needed to know. "Believe it or not, I want the same thing too . . . sometimes."
"Sometimes." Garak spoke as if it were a mantra.
"It's just that . . .," Julian paused, and weighed his words carefully. "I-I wasn't sure where we stood--after that one time. I mean, I don't want to lose our friendship. That's very important to me. It's more important than . . ." Garak didn't need him to finish to understand what he was saying. "But," Julian continued, "I have to admit, I do think about it. And-- and I miss you."
"I'm here," Garak said simply. "I'm always here."
Julian smiled. "I know. But, I don't want to take advantage . . ." He looked down at his feet for a moment, then back up at the other man. "I can't promise anything."
"And I can't ask--for anything."
The doctor looked squarely at him. "I don't want to hurt you."
Garak laughed lightly. "You can't hurt me."
"And I don't want to get hurt. You won't be here forever."
With a start, Garak said, "What do you mean?"
"Well," Julian began. "I'll eventually be transferred." Garak relaxed somewhat. "And you--you'll go back to Cardassia one day." Garak started to interject, but the doctor held him off. "At some point, I know you'll get to go home. For whatever you've done, or whatever reason you're here--it'll be resolved. And you'll get to leave." His belief was sincere. Garak fought the urge to pull the young man back into his arms.
"So, my dear--dear, Doctor." Garak stepped in a little closer. "Where does that leave us now? I know," Garak paused as if a thought just occurred to him. "Let's discuss, sometimes.
Julian smiled sheepishly. "Sometimes."
Garak took his hand. "Could now be one of those--times?"
The doctor looked down at their hands entwined. Without glancing up, he said, "I think it could be."
Garak cupped Julian's chin in his other hand, and tilted his face up. Tenderly he kissed him, just barely brushing the lips. Then slowly he began to pull the top half of Julian's suit off his thin shoulders, painstakingly exposing his chest and arms. The cool air on his chest made Julian's nipples hard, and Garak bent over to nibble one, and then the other. The young man sighed, then breathed, "Elim, wait."
Garak looked up with a sinking heart, afraid Julian had changed his mind. The doctor smiled at his obvious distress. He hastened to say, "I'd like to take a shower first." Garak cocked his head, confused by the request. Julian explained, "I've just played two hours of racquetball . . ." The Cardassian smiled broadly, and nodded his understanding. "But," Julian continued, "Maybe you could . . . scrub my back for me?" With a twinkle in his eye, he took Garak's hand again. And without another word, pulled his willing partner behind him into the bathroom.
Garak released the lock on the hidden drawer, and returned the data clip to its original place. He took the book out of the carrying case, and layed it carefully on the desk top, arranging it just so. His motions were swift and quiet, so as not to disturb his lover, asleep on the bed. The other items he left packed, for ultimately one day he would need to make a hasty departure. But not now. He left the case behind the desk, for the time being. Garak looked over to where Julian lay sleeping. One, lean leg stretched out, uncovered. His head was cradled in his arms--soft, brown hair hopelessly tousled. Garak sat down at the desk, and hurriedly finished composing the message . . .
. . . so I continue to maintain that my assignment here
is incomplete, and termination is premature. Further
investigation is required. I have calculated the risk,
and regard it to be minimal. Therefore, recall of
operative is not justified, at this time.
He entered in his personal security access, scrambling the data beyond any present and reasonable means to decode. Then he formatted the subspace message to piggyback the station's next routine scan of the surrounding space. It would never be detected. It never had been before. Thanks to Chief O'Brien's federation-honed efficiency, his message would be delivered within the next four hours--beyond DS9 and Bajor, beyond Cardassia . . . beyond the Obsidian Order.
Garak walked over to the bed. He slipped off the pants he had hastily thrown on before, and crawled back in beside Julian. The doctor stirred and shifted onto his back. A lazy smile formed on his lips, and he stretched his arms above his head. His eyes fluttered open, and he took in Garak's face, beaming down at him.
"Mmmm, what are you doing?" He murmured. "Can't sleep?"
Garak ran a hand tenderly through Julian's hair. "Not with you here."
"Want me to leave?" The doctor taunted.
"What do you think?" Garak leaned in, and kissed him. When he pulled back, Julian grinned wickedly.
"Roll over," he commanded with a leer, firmly pushing the Cardassian onto his side.
Garak laughed complacently, and said, "You know I can't refuse you anything."
Julian spooned against his back, grinding his hips against Garak's scaly buttocks. "I know," he said, plainly. Julian peered over Garak's shoulder, at the desk with the inlaid Cardassian design. In his mind he replayed the sequence of pressure points, over and over, committing them to memory. Smiling satisfactorily to himself, Julian said, "I know everything I need to, now . . ."
THE END