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Black Bottle	By : herm42 Category: Star Trek > Deep Space 9 Views: 2407 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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"No really, I'm
good at this. I almost became a counselor instead of a nurse back at
the academy."


"Why didn't
you?"


"Guts are so
interesting."


Garak raises his eye
ridges. "I see."


"So what seems
to be the problem?"


Garak hasn't lowered
his ridges.


"Well?"


"You're not
going to eviscerate me are you?"


Marcia laughs bright
and loud, like a little steaming kettle in a blue uniform and red
hair. "No, no. Come on. What's eatin' ya?"


"Pardon?"


"Why are you
here, Mr. Garak?" Her voice is unlike any other human's he has
met. The accent, Southern, as they seem to call it, sounds like
sloshing and bright trumpets.


"Well I'm quite
certain that my purpose is to serve the state and honor my Cardassian
heritage, but that's not what I wanted to talk to you about."


"I
see...evading. Let me guess, trust issues?"


"Well-"
Garak clips it off. "No. I wanted to talk to you about Julian."


Marcia wiggles, sort
of, seems to snuggle into the comfort of her own skin and smug wisdom
with a patently disinterested look on her face. False, of course, but
theatrical and endearing. "I can't help you with Julian. If
Julian wants counselling too he'll have to come to me at another
time."


Garak sighs. "I
can see this is going to be a difficult conversation."


Marcia folds her
arms across her chest slowly, defiantly.


Garak says nothing
at first, but then decides to make a stab at it, quickly, before she
can cut him off. "Julian seems to be under the impression that I
am not fully truthful with him at times and I don't think he'll be
satisfied with me reasserting that I am truthful with him for much
longer."


Marcia just sits
there a moment. Then she says in a low crisp voice that reminds him
of Julian actually, "Garak. Do something for me. Close your
eyes."


Garak sits there a
second then raises his ridges at her again.


She scowls
intensely, so he sits back in his chair and closes his eyes.


"Now. What is
something of yours, something important to you, a personal possession
that you are really fond of. Anything."


Garak thinks about
it a few seconds. "My embroidery tool."


"Perfect. Now,
who is someone that you trust."


"Julian,"
he says automatically with a little nod.


"Well I was
hoping you'd pick a more neutral person, but..."


"Neutral?"
Garak cracks an eye open. "Are you implying something, my dear?"


"Not me."


"If you are
suggesting that Julian is not trustworthy in some way I can assure
you you are mistaken." Hey, look over there! Garak thinks
to himself. His talent for distraction is probably more precious to
him than anything in his shop.


"I wasn't
implying a thing, Garak, now close your eyes." He does. "Now,
let's say that you're...having lunch, or you're off ...exercising in
the holosuites or something," Garak can't completely repress a
tiny smile at the corner of his mouth, "You're away from your
shop. And Julian comes along, sees that you're gone and decides to
wait for you, wander around your shop a bit. He sees the embroidery
tool laying around, can you picture it? Can you see the tool?"


"Yes."


"Good. Now lets
say Julian picks it up and starts fiddling with it. He uses that
amazing brain of his and decides with just a few minor adjustments he
could make it ten times more accurate and efficient So he starts
tweaking it, and then what do you know, he breaks it."


"He wouldn't do
that."


"This is
pretend Garak, yes he would. Use your imagination a little. What do
you do?"


"Replicate a
new one."


    Marcia
sighs. "What if...that pattern was erased from the station's
memory?"


"Well that
seems highly unlikely. The moment my embroidery tool breaks the
memory bank and all the backups on the station fail
specifically in the area of memory containing the pattern of my one
specific embroidery tool?"


"Garak."


He sighs heavily.
"Very well. I'll imagine that it is broken. I thought you
said you were good at this."


"I am
good at it, you're being difficult. So what would you do?"


Garak opens his eyes
and shrugs a little.


"I thought you
said that embroidery tool was important to you," she says
suggestively.


"I lied."


Marcia blinks at him
a moment. "Well congratulations Mr. Garak. You are so
mistrustful that you won't even trust me with your imaginary
possessions."


A sly smile spreads
across Garak's face and he leans forward on the table toward Marcia
who just looks a little exasperated.


"My point is,
and maybe I should have just skipped the demonstration, people you
trust, people you care about and trust, even they are going to let
you down from time to time. And you are going to let them down now
and then too. Sometimes it's an accident, sometimes it's just a bad
decision, sometimes it's necessary, but you can't just stop trusting
people altogether. That won't protect you entirely, and it definitely
won't keep the bed warm."


"I beg your
pardon."


"It's just an
expression Garak. And it won't protect you from the rest of the world
compromising you. Random people crossing your path can hurt you just
as easily as someone you know. And you can't hold onto friends if you
won't trust them. Having a friend means occasionally letting them
take responsibility for safeguarding some of your most valuable and
vital things whether it's something tangible or not, and it goes the
other way too. Someday they'll ask the same of you. If you won't take
the job, they might go find another friend."


Garak sits in
silence a moment. "Now about Julian. Human psychology is so
tediously complicated. He has the most severe case of tunnel vision I
think I have ever seen and yet he also insists that I am lying to him
constantly. It's not even tunnel vision it's a brick wall in front of
his face I think."


Marcia rolls her
eyes and sighs. "Can I ask you something, Garak?"


He smiles warmly.
"By all means."


"Why did you
want to go to lunch with me?"


"Why not?"


"It's not like
we just happened to land at the same table, or even the same end of
the replimat at the same time, Garak. You came to the infirmary and
asked me if I wanted to go." Then she adds as an aside, "Like
maybe....you have...an agenda, perhaps," she coos lightly.


Garak's smile
widens. "You've pointed out the reason perfectly, my dear. You
have a gift." Marcia raises a single eyebrow at him, menacingly
too. "Post-Probosctic Perception, I like to call it."
Marcia looks unamused.


"I can see past
my own nose?"


"Precisely."


"So why does
that make you want to have lunch with me? Aren't you afraid I'll
perceive something I'm not supposed to?"


He heaves a sigh.
"My own pittance of this quality, already short, seems to
evaporate at times. And...it's just nice to spend some time with
someone who hasn't lost it. I feel like the association may somehow
rekindle my own ability."


Marcia crosses her
arms again. "I think your perception is working just fine,
Garak. You just don't want to listen to it."

~*~


Four days he hasn't seen him. Not just not spending any time
together; close, personal, quality time, as his whole body is
incessantly demanding. No, he hasn't seen him at all. It isn't that
they haven't had time. Casualties come, as you would expect, in
waves. This is a decided trough. And when there are no Starfleet or
Klingon ships cresting, docking for repairs and medical aide, there
are precious few people prowling the promenade. Garak can't be busy,
either. Julian himself makes up most of the crowd the past few days
with his constant and unnecessary passes by the shop. Nevertheless,
Garak is managing to stay completely out of reach and off Julian's
radar. All he has is a sense of him. As if he is not here because he
is everywhere right now. That combined with the unprecedented cloak
and dagger milieu invading the station of late Julian is left with a
distinct impression that the works of his Cardassian friend are
definitely in evidence, even if the man himself can not be seen. He
goes so far as to ask the computer where Garak is this afternoon. He
doesn't care if it's paranoid. He can't keep his mind focused on
anything else. He wasn't entirely sure Garak was even on the station.
But today there he is, in his shop, standing at the counter as if he
had always been there.


"Where have you
been?" is the first thing out of Julian's mouth.


"Doctor, so
good to see you!" he says and it's fake. It's so obviously fake
and Julian is instantly ramped with adrenaline and blood to his face.


It's the same as it
ever was, Julian realizes. They're still doing this dance. They have
a period of intimate companionship followed by a shaken retreat by
Elim and a bruised faith for Julian. Then nothing until they've been
pining for each other so, that the memory of the hurt is buried by a
thin coating of time and acceptance. It's no different, just deeper.
There's more chance for real damage in this place. And the cycle is
running faster, a wicked whirlpool. The hunger tramples the memory of
confusion and pain, makes him forget that there is something wrong.
Well this is the end of it. He's not waiting until he can't see
straight anymore.


"It's been four
days Garak. I haven't seen a scrap of you," he says low and
rough. "And why-"


"How
is everything? The infirmary is quiet I trust?"
Garak makes an unsubtle head motion in the direction of the red
patterned curtain to his left. Julian looks and sees it sway gently
and boils inside at the inconvenience. Julian just stands, looking
daggers first at the curtain, then at Garak and back.


"So is your
visit today business or pleasure?" Garak tries again, salve in
his voice.


Julian clenches his
teeth together. "Pleasure," he says, none too gently. Then
he places both forearms on Garak's counter and leans in close to the
tailor. "I haven't so much as seen your face in four days,
Garak. Where have you been? And why is Sisko asking me for
eighty-five liters of biomemetic gel?" he hisses.


"I see. And how
is your young nurse, Marcia, I believe her name was," Garak says
to the room and then leans in to whisper back. "I make it
three, actually, not counting today which is not yet over and which
marks the end of the lapse. And, I'm afraid that your two questions
are not exactly related topics, my dear. I think we aught to deal
with one at a time," he says as quickly and as softly as he
can.


"Fine."
Julian replies to both.


"Good,"
Garak coos. "You know I just received a new shipment in. Would
you like to see any of it? Firstly, I have only the most
tangential connection to the movement of the gel. The captain needed
something from the buyer of the gel. The gel was the price demanded.
That is all I can say on the subject. My involvement was only in the
delivery of messages. A mere, thread, in the cloth, Doctor."


The curtain to the
left ripples and gains structure for an instant as a limb connects
with it, then tucks back in. The occupant of the changing room had
been making odd little noises as she tried, vainly, to slink into a
dress that normally takes four hands to assemble on a mannequin,
never mind a strangely proportioned Earth woman in a cramped closet.
This has ceased however, and she has become oddly quiet, which Garak
hopes Julian will not notice.


"Is that so."
Julian says flatly.


"Yes. Can I
interest you in some new sleepwear? This has to be the most
comfortable and soothing material I've ever sold. It's normally used
on Vulcan as swaddling for infants but I think it would make a
gorgeous set of pajamas."


Julian scowls and
leans in again. "And the fight in the bar? Quark didn't press
charges, you know. Does that sound like Quark to you? Would one of
the most self-centered beings in the Alpha Quadrant not press charges
after his attempted murder by a drunken patron unless he was
otherwise compensated?" Julian stands up straight again. "I
don't think so."


Garak cowers a
little inside. "Perhaps a new racquetball suit? No? More pants?"
A silence hangs between them that Julian fills with an angry stare.
These questions are confused. He is upset about one thing, and asking
about another, Garak thinks. Garak searches Julian's hard face,
looking for the answer that will take that look away. He wishes he
could banish it forever, really. That remorse creeping into his brow
and the corners of his mouth. "I'm sorry, Julian. How
thoughtless of me. Here you are paying me a social visit and I'm
pushing my wares on you. You'll forgive me, but business just hasn't
been the best lately."


That wasn't it.
Julian's lip curls a little. "So you've resorted to trading
in biogenic weapons?" he hisses.


"I think we
should slow down," Garak rumbles low in his chest, trying to
keep his face from knitting.


Julian looks fit to
explode. "Slow-"


"Oh I know. How
about this?" Garak pipes in like a whistle and slinks the back
of his fingers down half the length of a marvel of a green and
burgundy silk dress. "For that special someone in your life?"


Luckily, Julian
doesn't burst, but simply stands there, bewildered, shakes his head
even, just a little, then huffs a little exasperated laugh and leans
back in toward the tailor. "Are you saying you want me to buy
you a dress, Garak?" Julian asks very quietly.


Garak lets a real
smile spread across his face. Julian deflates before his eyes, anger
seeping away to weariness.


Julian stands there
a while, trying to think of something to say out loud for the benefit
of whomever was in the fitting room but he can't remember what that
conversation was about nor can he think of anything clothing-related
to add. "No, thank you," he says and sighs. "I'm
sorry Garak. I didn't mean to push you into this faster than you
wanted. If that's how you feel. It wasn't my intention."


Oh, Julian. Not what
he meant at all, but Garak is still touched. He knows though, if he
said so it would sound sarcastic. He might even be tempted to use its
timbre to keep the lovely creature at bay a little longer. But he
just can't. It really wouldn't do to have Julian slug him today,
too. His mouth still hurts from a few hours ago. He leans
closer and kisses Julian over the counter, quickly, softly.


Julian's eyes open
again slowly to reveal Garak's familiar face intent upon his own. He
still has questions though. The time and place is wrong, but he needs
an answer. If only a temporary one. "Garak," he begins.
"The Romulans."


Garak sighs
inaudibly. "A tailor's work is never done. No matter how tightly
I sew the seams, there will always be mending to do. Alterations."
Julian closes his eyes against it. He was hoping his involvement
there would also be tertiary. He realizes then that if the highest
hope he dares allow himself is Garak's semi-complicity, he should
probably get used to the idea of it being much worse on a regular
basis. That isn't going to be easy. Could be impossible.


Garak whispers,
"That is part of the reason I think we should slow down. So
in a way, you are correct to connect my absence with recent events.
But it is only a part. You know who I am, what I am. I just don't
want you to relegate that to the past, because I will never fully
escape it."


Julian knows what he
isn't saying. It is inescapable for Julian as well if this goes
further. "Can I see you tonight Elim?"


Garak's eyes half
close, and he nods. Julian turns to leave but Elim calls him back.
"Julian." He looks back from the doorway. "I need to
know I can trust you. That you won't...forget."


"Forget?"

    "How
important you are. To everyone.
    "He shrugs
a little. "I'm just a doctor, Garak."

~*~


Julian wants to
glove his hands in Garak's thick hair, just grab him and latch on,
but Garak has a figmental wall in front of him. He is resisting with
his posture but his eyes and hands, the expressive tools of his body
are reaching out. Julian settles for the moment, for moving in close
to him, a deceptive slouch in his spine keeping him just below
Garak's height, and his eyes turned down. He hopes Garak doesn't
realize what he is doing, but at the same time hopes he appreciates
it. Julian really isn't very good at playing coy or unsure when he
isn't, but if he is ever going to get inside that head, he needs to
lure him in closer, needs him to trust. Nearly chest to chest, Julian
lets the ghost of his breath and senses roll over Garak's collar and
neck, filling his lungs with air and moving in on him to notch their
bodies together. Then he smiles at him, looks him in the eye and
postures up, keeping their eyes locked even when they get too close
to see. As Julian carves out a minute rhythmic dance against the
Cardassian, Elim responds similarly, as if his resistance is bending,
splintering, making it feel almost like a chase, a game of tag on
half a meter of carpet. Julian keeps rising, twisting up and over
Elim and Elim seems to wilt down and then under. Their hands touch
and flinch, over and over as startled whiskers in the dark. Finally,
Julian's palms yield and allow Garak's fingers to posses them, hard,
squeezing the blood to his fingertips. It doesn't bother him though.
He lets them go limp as he eels back down and his lips find by
breathy sonar the hard cord of Elim's neck and the subtle hollow
where the ridge meets his shoulder. Julian's mouth is wet and ready,
humid even in the Cardassian's lair, and he can hear Elim's breathing
hitch and stutter, fly high in tempo and volume until he brings his
mouth down into that vulnerable spot and tastes.


Garak gasps in long
arrhythmic cataracts of air down his throat and his spine stiffens to
old wood. Julian's hot mouth there in that web shouldn't make him
burn like this. He has an alcoholic flame crawling up that whole side
of him, singeing his face. A wicked tongue of fire inside bores into
him and then moves on as the lips crawl upwards with kisses. At the
same time that Garak's body forces him to exhale on a low breathy
moan, he hears a whimper, beautiful and dangerous, from that mouth
now so near his ear. The sound registers in his ears followed by his
hands which grip tightly to the bony mush of Julian's, and claw
forward cruelly. A tremor rocks him and he shakes free of Julian,
letting his hands go and ripping away from their tangled fingers and
sticky skin. Garak watches Julian's fingers curl unsteadily in toward
his palms and then looks the doctor in the eyes, searching for
distress.


They're both
breathing hard and fast. Julian knows why he is, but there is now
some doubt as to Garak's reason. He thought he was enjoying himself.
Or at least enjoying him.


"Perhaps,
Doctor," Garak says, "Now would be a good time to discuss
that slowing down I mentioned earlier."


A smile peeks out at
the corner of Julian's mouth because it's really quite obvious that
neither of them want to slow down. And he sort of thought they
were slowing down. Compared to a few days ago. "Ok,"
he says softly, guardedly. "Are you feeling alright?"
Because that would be the simplest explanation and perhaps the
simplest fix too.


Garak smiles fondly,
clutching his hands together in front of him. Julian wonders if
perhaps that was a slightly cliché thing to ask.


"I'm fine,"
Garak says and the smile falls, knitting his brow a little. "Are
you?"


"I'm...fine.
I'm great," Julian says with a shrug and a small shake of his
head.


Garak nods. "I
just...had the thought that there's no reason for us to rush into
anything."


That knots Julian's
gut ever so slightly. That's not the same as slowing down.
And it's definitely not what he was expecting Garak to come up with
after his earlier performance, even if it was strange and abrupt. It
was still good.


"Ok,"
Julian says again and offers him a small sanguine smile though his
head is muddied by arousal, proximity and that hot heady thing that
accompanies the anticipation of every second lately.


Garak is searching
for words, staring off to the floor. He swallows. "Can't
do this," Garak whispers even as he gets closer to Julian again,
takes his elbows in his hands. It takes a moment, and Julian blinks
awake out of the tactile dream as he feels the hands pinchsqueeze and
begin a slow release.


"What?"


"I can't."


"What's wrong?"


"You've done
nothing wrong, my dear. It's-"


"Don't give me
that. Garak I don't understand. I mean...." Julian makes a
frustrated noise.


Garak's hands are
back on him and he looses focus again. The gentle fingers thread
through his hair and grasp his neck while the blue-grey eyes, painful
and wanting search his face. "Because what I want from you. What
I want with you, I can not take. You have to understand that, even if
it does not seem to make sense, please try."


"Why can't you
take it? Garak, don't you understand? I'm giving myself
to you." The moment he says it he feels it is true, but the
weight of it is a shocking vibration in his hands.


Garak sighs and
touches down his face to bring his hands to Julian's shoulders and
squeeze.


"No," he
simply says.


"What is it you
want, that you can't take, Elim?" he pleads. "What
is it I need to give you? And why can't you just ask?"


Garak is kneading
him, and Julian's eyes are heavy with the pleasure of it and the heat
in his stomach. It's all completely at odds with the dread in his
mind, but then everything about Elim is paradoxical. Garak's lips are
there by his temple, he can feel his breath in his hair as it stands
on end like every nerve in his body. Garak is a warm wall in front of
him. "I want...." Garak whispers, "I want to hurt
you."


Julian shivers and
his breath comes short and fast through his open mouth. Garak's hands
slide lower and turn to point his fingers downward as he moves his
flat hands stiffly down Julian's back, pressing him full length to
Garak's body. He thinks he can feel the edges of scales through their
clothes.


"I want..."
Garak's mouth brushes Julian's neck. "To bite you." He
doesn't. He digs his fingers into Julian's lower back instead. "I
want to scratch you. I want to hit you. With my hands," he
whispers in Julian's ear and those hands travel back up his trembling
form to frame his face again. "I want to see what it does to
you. I want to see it in your face, and hear it in your voice. I want
to know you inside and out. And. As much as I may want this, as much
as I want you, I don't think anything less than all of it will ever
satisfy me, Julian. I can't do those things just because I want
them."


Julian is
dumbstruck, drowsey-eyed and minded. Everything seems to fade in and
out a little. Somehow he just never expected to hear him say
this, despite all he knows about him. Garak is still before him,
though his hands are nothing more than a tether at the nape of
Julian's neck. He stands there for long minutes in silence before
speaking again. "When we first met," he starts and then
hesitates. Julian admits with his eyes that he fears now what Garak
is about to reveal. He speaks slowly but with a near conversational
tone. "I would fantasize about you. I thought about your skin
and your muscle, and I thought about what it would feel like to break
you. Because, you served a purpose then. We didn't really know each
other. We weren't friends, real friends, for some time. My friends,
the people I really care about, few though they are, I don't want to
hurt them for any reason. My desire to cause pain comes from lust.
They are nearly the same thing for me and also nearly inextricable as
far as I know. One needs the other."


Garak pauses a
moment again and just looks at Julian, watching for a change that
doesn't come. "Occasionally, rarely, I should say, I would run
across a person with a complimentary need, and that would suffice and
it's better than spending my time dreaming of something I can't have.
But then. We did become friends. You became...very dear to me. And it
only got bigger, brighter as time went on. It was so confusing,
Julian. Id' never felt that mixed up before. I've been in love
before. Once, with a woman, a Cardassian." He shakes his head a
little, slowly. "But I never wanted that with her. Maybe...maybe
she came before it, I don't know exactly. And other people I've
loved, close friends, I never wanted to hurt them. Not Odo, not
anyone. Hurting Odo the way I did, it never felt like that before.
Not when I worked for the Order, not with any of my...aquaintances.
It was horrible and I actually thought, hoped, that the experience
might have cured me of it." He looks then to see if Julian has a
reaction to that but he just stands close to him, quiet and patient.
"But time went by and it came back, this thing inside of me. And
now. I don't know what to do. I've never loved so deeply and lusted
so fiercly at the same time for the same person. You'd think with a
combination like that it would be simple, but it isn't. It was easier
when I could split it up. Keep my emotions compartmentalized so that
no one person knew everything. It felt safer. But now it's all mixed
in together and...clashing. The part that loves keeps telling me that
I can't do that to someone I love and expect them to still love me,
and the part of me that burns tells me that you wouldn't let me
anyway, that even this confession is likely to turn you away from me
forever, which, I have to admit, would probably be in your best
interest which is why I can even bear to say it."


Julian blinks
dazedly for a moment and trades breath with the Cardassian so close
to him. He thinks he might be shaking a little. He swallows and then
tries to make his mouth say what he thinks he understands. It is
surprisingly difficult. "You can love without lust. You can lust
without love. But not with me."


"This is not a
passing fancy, Doctor. It is something I need, and you, are right.
You fit where no one else ever has, here," and Garak moves
almost imperceptably closer to Julian and runs his large hands down
his back again, breathing quickly through his mouth. "Whether I
fit with you is something you have to decide, but if you say I may
love you but not possess you, I can not accept, because I know one
day I will not be able to stop myself. If you say I can have your
body but that you could never love or respect someone with such a
desire, I have to decline because you will break my heart. And if,"
Garak starts to shake a little. "If you lie and say I can
have both and then take them both away from me-" His body quakes
and his eyes seem to lose focus, darting everywhere, away from one
imagined act to another before his hands come away from Julian's body
again and he shakes them out to his sides, removing an unseen filth
with a flash of mortification apparent on his face. "I don't
know what I would do," he mumbles.


Julian takes hold of
him tightly by the shoulders and squeezes hard. "Shh." He
redirects Garak's gaze to his own face and moves his squeezing hands
down his arms eliciting a mild sigh from Elim though he still shakes
slightly. "Shh," he says again. "I would never do
that." He runs his hands over Garaks face and through his hair
until his eyes close and he grounds himself again with hands to
Julian's hips. Julian lets a low note of mirth slip into his voice as
he coos to Garak. "Just relax now. Reptiles aren't made for this
kind of stress." Garak half smiles a little though his eyes are
still lightly shut.


"I'm a
Cardassian, not a reptile." He sighs heavily then. "But I
suppose I am no longer stalwart enough for it either."


Julian exhales a
little laugh at Garak's flair for archaic language and watches as
Garak's eyes reopen, lovely and sad. They becon him, half lidded and
fluttering coded messages of sleep and warmth and skin. Julian can't
resist the temptation to move into his space even closer, gently
bumping his head to Garaks and leaning forward to take a soft kiss.


Garak licks his lips
and then pulls away a little, enough to see Julian, though he just
looks down. "Um. Doctor." he says, looking at his shoes.
This is just plain and simple Garak speaking now. The other person
Garak has been hiding beneath his grey eyes is gone for the moment,
stuffed away because his methods, though direct and to the point, are
harsh and lack that finesse that the public Garak has mastered. He
says it in the way you would notify someone that they were standing
on your foot. "You haven't said 'no' yet."


A silly half smile
crosses Julian's mouth. "No, I..." Garak seems to shrug
with his eyes. "I'm just a little ...shocked."

    "I
understand."


"Can I....ask
you a question?"


"Of course."


Julian feels like a
glass full beyond the brim, something staining, ever changing
glimmering at the dome top. "I've never done anything like this
Garak. None of my previous partners had any interest...I just want to
know...what do I have to do?"

    Garak
just stands there slack-jawed for a moment. Julian opens his mouth to
speak again but Garak beats him to it. "No I understand, this
isn't a committal. I'm just astounded that we're still speaking,
that's all."


Julian squeezes his
fists nervously, looking away as if concentrating on a puzzle.
Searching for a word. "Can we go slowly?" he asks finally.


The decision in
Julian's eyes is clear, Garak just can't believe it. "As a Breen
prison sentence," he mumbles without so much as an inflection
above his faint panting.


Julian nods. "Can
I ask another question?"

    "As
many as you like."


"What will
happen?"


"I can't tell
you that until I know myself. I never planned beyond this point. Or
rather the point where you leave my life forever at the suggestion."
Garak's fingers squeeze subtlely around Julian's hips. "But then
once again I try to anticipate you and fail completely. We'd... make
it up as we went along."


"And how far
does it go?"


"As far as we
can take it."


"And after?"


"After?"


"What happens
after...."


"The pain?"


Julian nods.


Garak pauses. "I'm
not certain there is an after. I don't think it's meant to end. It
can only end one way.... After....It changes things. Changes
everything. It would mark the beginning of a cycle. Something we
would maintain together. It would mean pain for as long as you stay
with me. When we're together, I would want to hurt you, when we're
apart, I would find ways then as well. When we make love...."
Garak is breathing audibly as he speaks now and he watches,
enraptured, as Julian's shoulders rise and fall as quickly as his
own. "I will make you scream," he whispers. "You'll
scream until you can't anymore. You'll cry and you'll beg me to stop.
But I won't. I won't stop until you can't take it anymore, no matter
what you say. I know how to make you hurt. And I know how far is far
enough. Because it's not me Julian. People think that it's me in
control, but it isn't. It's you. That's why I can't take it
from you. You have to take it from me," Garak
whispers painfully. "You have to take all of this that I feel
and absorb it, Julian. There is so much. I can't ask you to
take it. Not when I know how dangerous it is. I love you too much to
be that selfish." Garak is shaking again, slightly, and Julian
holds him steady as he listens. He stops a moment, centers himself
after nearly teetering off the spindle point of his nerves, and
returns to the original question. "After. I would take care of
you. That's what happens after. I would be gentle with you, and rub
the pain away, clean the sweat and the tears from your face."
Garak's voice falls to the cadence of distant bird song. "You'd
sleep in my arms. I'd take care of you." His chin trembles a
little.


Julian rubs his
shoulders. "And I'll take care of you."
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Black Bottle