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Cross	By : CyreliaJ Category: Star Trek > Deep Space 9 Views: 1139 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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Chapter List
- 4
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Note: Getting dirtier and more involved as well but I'm digging the slow burn to the real G/B set in the best. I'm a little unsure of some of the angsty stuff, some of the scenes, but there are things that I like as well. Parmak is fun to write, even if my headcanons are a bit odd. Thank you everyone for reading and your support! C&C is also always welcome.
   “Well, you certainly have a type.” Jadzia makes that cheerful statement as she watches Julian re-etner the infirmary tent. He just finished speaking with Parmak, arranging for to meet that night, his entire body a fast bundle of nerves. He pushes that aside, Jadzia’s comment drawing attention to the need for discretion.Next to her Quark stands fussing, almost strangely protective as he adjust her pillow and barks at one of the nurses that he doesn’t know what sort of establishment they’re running around here but the lady ought to have the ice in her water refreshed. Julian had to blink a few time not quite willing to believe it. He’d let Quark know if he ever wanted to change careers he had quite a promising one as an aide. Quark shot him a look of disgust explaining in no uncertain terms would he ever lower himself to such a charitable position. And yet he stayed, a Ferengi messenger running in and out of the infirmary tent his go between, keeping an eye on his set up. Julian nearly trips over him on the way out, supposing that he’s going to give Rom yet another set of explicit instructions for keeping the drink watered down for those too inebriated to care.
   Julian sits down, examining her shoulder trying to keep his mind focused on his work.
“Is that so?” He asks the question somewhat uneasily not knowing who could possibly be listening. He doesn’t see anyone in the immediate vicinity then realizes he’s two days from murdering a man and he’s still worried that people will know… will resurface that gossip of his… proclivities. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Cardassians are good people,” Quark interrupts still hovering like a small gnat. “They always pay their bills on time.” “I always settle my debts, my dear.” Julian nearly falters, a shiver as the words prompt that memory and he clears his throat. Stop. Don’t think about him. It’s not him that you’re seeing tonight. And be thankful for it. He is- terribly desperately so. The swirl of emotion that even Garak’s name is causing in him right now is-
“Are you okay Julian?” Jadzia looks concerned even as she lightly kicks Quark’s foot.
   Julian’s head snaps to attention after a moment’s hesitation tamping down that unpleasant roiling that started right about when Parmak left and he started thinking about his encounter with Garak.
“What? I’m sorry I ah... I’m just... got a lot to think about. But as for you, young lady,” he begins with mock sternness.
“Yes, what about the young lady?” Quark asks anxiously wringing his hands.
“You know I’m going to be fine, Quark. That is if Julian would be a dear and give me clearance for tomorrow’s fight.”
“Not a chance. Martok may be in worse shape but he did a lot of damage to this shoulder.” He’s thankful for the convenient change of subject.
“Damage, what damage? You know the Trill are a renowned race of warriors.” Quark claps Jadzia on that shoulder to illustrate that point and Julian watches with a wince as she swoons and croaks out something in what he presumes is Ferengi. He’s sure it’s a curse.
            “Thank you for the perfectly apt demonstration, Quark.”
“It’s just a little sore, isn’t that right. I’ll have Rom get some ice since these Federation doctors are so stingy with it”
“You know we have to ration the ice, Quark.” It’s a precious commodity out in the desert and there are few places to keep frozen water that are zealously guarded.
“Doctor,” Quarks pleads in a hush, drawing him aside. “I understand you’re not a gambling man and you don’t understand all the important statistics, but you don’t know the disaster that it would be if Chakotay comes into the second round against that Vulcan monster.”
“And you’d send Jadzia against him injured?!” Julian doesn’t even try to hide his disgust as a few of the nurses and patients further down turn to look and Quarks practically jumps, shushing him.
“Julian…” Jadzia is still pale but motions him close. He prays she doesn’t vomit on his shoes- he was planning on wearing these tonight.
   The three of them huddle together almost conspiratorially. She looks to Quark. “Tell him, Quark.” He immediately jerks up indignantly.
“What? Are you mad, This is insider information.”
“I’d say your doctor has a damn good reason to know your “insider information” if you think you’ve got any chance to convince me to do something as ludicrous as clear Jadzia to fight.” Julian doesn’t have the patience to deal with this right now. He’s starting to feel like he might vomit himself and he’d like to lay down for an hour if it settles down enough. Quark hems and haws a bit more but finally hisses out quickly, in agitation,
“The crowd didn’t see the injury. Oh sure, they saw a little jump, but she held it in until she was back here. They don’t know… and after that fight, they’re expecting her to win. Do you understand?” Right. Because she isn’t going to win. She’s going to lose possibly horribly and with it, Quark will make a fortune. Well Julian will say one thing for Ferengi and that’s their blissfully uncomplicated ethics.
            “Except she’s not,” Julian finishes flatly practically seeing the latinum dancing in both their eyes. He sighs heavily. He looks to Jadzia, eyes giving a plea for reason. “Tell me you’re not seriously going along with this.”
“I know what I’m doing, Julian. I know how to fight not to get hurt. It’s called sparring.” He shakes his head. This has gone on long enough. If there’s one thing that at least he still has control over.
“It’s called no,” Julian says already feeling his brain colliding in mind, orders for the nurses, his message to his Majesty’s about Jadzia’s condition, Parmak, Garak, it’s almost too much as he leaves amidst a flurry of protests. It’s a fight. It’s money. It’s pride, honor Jadzia might even say but in the end it’s a bunch of posturing nonsense when there are far greater stakes. Greater stakes and you’re romancing a man that you should be staying far away from. But not, that’s exactly what he needs to do. There’s a thought that comes to him then, he’s not sure where from, some odd dark instinct that tells him that Kelas Parmak is surely Garak’s weakness as sure as he is of his own breath. That makes him shiver cold, as he once more counts down his time. He can do this. No matter what it costs him.
            “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice you leave?” Garak’s voice passes by in the chill night air. Parmak stops, choosing not to turn towards the source of the voice instead, kneeling down pretending to fuss with the strap of his sandals.
“I know how observant you are, Elim.”
“Which is why you drugged me before sneaking out.” Parmak continues to fuss, a frown on his face.
“I told you I was giving you something that would help you sleep.”
“Ah, of course, the Kelas deception. The agreement to one’s own ruin with your complete deniability.”
“You have a name for it?” Parmak sounds amused. Garak sighs.
“You’ve been playing with that strap too long and not particularly convincingly. You might as well stand up, Kelas, I don’t think you could fool a child with that performance.” Parmak stands up expecting Garak to reveal himself dramatically from behind one of the empty supply tents. Instead he’s pulled back behind it seeing Garak standing there in a heavy cloak, hood pulled up over his head. There’s a smile that cracks Parmak’s face.
“You look positively villainous,” he remarks to that shadowed countenance. “And you say that I look suspect. I’m surprised one of the ladies from the science Academy didn’t call for the guards when she saw you skulking around like that.”
            Parmak reaches up to pull back the hood, finding his hand slapped away.
“I don’t like it when I can’t see your face properly.” Parmak’s tone doesn’t have any hint of that earlier teasing.
“Does that still scare you, my dear Kelas?” Garak’s voice drops almost dramatically lower, darker. There was a time when those eyes, when that tone would have- had broken him. But it’s been decades since Kelas Parmak has been able to be afraid of anything.
“You’re behaving childishly,” he answers with a purse of his lips reaching again determined.
“I’m cold.” Garak catches his wrist. He seems to want to say more and Parmak can hear it unspoken. It’s cold. Any Cardassian would be cold. But not you, Kelas. Is that what you were going to say, Elim? But you didn’t. Because you feel guilty even though you’d never say it. You don’t like to make mention of that. It’s in the past. As the Ancients would say, nothing happened. There’s nothing but the present. None of that exists. I exist. You exist. Guilt doesn’t, regret doesn’t. Those are just the concepts of the material world for material physical actions. Parmak looks at him, aware on some level that he’s staring. But he continues to stare, He’s always had that unfortunate habit of fixating hard on a point while his mind wanders.
            “You know it’s that expression that has half your staff thinking that your interests lie beyond the professional.” Parmak absently moves his attention to Garak’s hand instead.
“Does that bother you? I’d thought that given our relationship it wasn’t of any consequence. Mmm… I think I might have said that too flippantly. Of course that wasn’t my intent.” Parmak slowly pulls his hand back, steadily bringing Garak’s arm with it as if he might jerk it back any moment. “You know you’re my dearest friend, Elim.” He looks at him, at his eyes piercing even under the shadows of that cloak, raising that hand, letting Garak’s wrist brush his face.
“As you are mine, Kelas.” Garak steps closer, letting go of him, dropping a hand to his bare shoulder. “I’d rather you pursued some alliance with one of your staff. Nakar is a bit dull for my tastes but he’s well connected and from what I gather open to your particular philosophies.”
“You don’t think I found enough drudgery when I was away? I’m afraid my own sabbatical didn’t come with a fascinating doctor. No, I should correct that. Doctor Medek was quite amiable. I think you’d appreciate his appetite for subtle mental torture and manipulations. Actually, I meant to partner with him after my release to see if we might not be able to collaborate on a joint study of the long term effects of Haze on sleep deprivation.” Parmak steps into him, standing just a slight bit taller, tilting his head submissively. “But you killed him,” he said absently as if speaking about the weather.
            “Had him killed, my dear,” Garak corrects with a short human kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Those of us in power don’t dirty our hands in that fashion any longer. It’s considered gauche.”
“Is that why you were gone, Elim? I had thought about it while I was watching over your Julian-”
“My Julian?”
“He isn’t our Julian yet. Unless you want to let me go.”
“He’s never going to be “our Julian”, Kelas.”
“I thought about it while I was sitting there. Baking I might add in that hot air while you were seeing to your business. Sorry, that sounded petulant. I know it’s instinctual to only consider temperature with reference to one’s own bodily acclimation. No, you wouldn’t have been warm. But do you know what I realized then?” He put a finger to Garak’s mouth. “That’s a rhetorical question. Please don’t answer it.”
“Kelas-“ Garak’s voice carries a warning in it as he shrugs that gesture off. Yes, it’s unwise to speak here. You’re more likely to get riddles but he’s off balance. It’s dangerous to speak of his work, Kelas, but you need to confirm your suspicions. How does that stubborn man expect you to protect him otherwise? Well of course he doesn’t expect that. He expects to protect you but he’s doing exactly what he constantly warns you about. He’s letting sentiment cloud him.
            “Anyone who listens now will be killed, won’t they, Elim? I expect that’s warning enough and if it’s not, then wouldn’t you rightly say they’ve earned that death?” Parmak puts arms around Garak’s waist, drawing them up to his back. His voice is soft to Garak’s ear. “I understand that’s the way of things, Elim. But I’d like to tell you what I know and I expect you to answer just as you would but that’s fine. Those ten years… you weren’t with him. Not a one.” Parmak knew that with unflinching conviction. He knew the look of a man who hadn’t seen his lover in a decade. He once wore that same face. “And yet you were gone. Banished. Exiled. Perhaps I spoke that too succinctly but I wanted to emphasize that point. You failed the mission,” he says with a sigh. “My poor Elim, you weren’t there to kill Picard at all.” He rests his chin on Garak’s shoulder and says nothing further for a while.
“The things that you understand are frightening only in their earnest incorrectness.”
“That’s all you needed to say.” Parmaks hands absently knead Garak’s back. “This is exactly why I need to go. I can hear you saying in fact this is why I shouldn’t go but you’re wrong.”
            “As always you make bold statements with the simplicity of a child.”
“Then I’ll continue the pattern.”
“You’re very warm, Kelas,” Garak says trying a slightly different tact. Parmak shivers as Garak’s fingers brush the ridges of his neck, mouth following slowly, idly, as if they have nothing but time. “I might request that you not leave me alone tonight.”
“You left me alone, Elim. ” He says that so matter of factly that he feels the tension in Garak’s body in response. “I don’t say that to induce any particular feeling but I can tell it’s there nonetheless.”
“You can tell that this miserable cold is beginning to take a predictable effect and nothing more.”
“He’s not going to hurt me.”
“That’s because you’ve become a death seeking fool who believes that nothing can hurt you.”
“Nothing can hurt me. No one wants to hurt me or harm me in any way. So they won’t. You might know that if you ever took the time to parse any of those books I’d left for you.”
“I read them. Every one of them. It’s a wonder you ever made it out of that place alive.”
            Parmak laughs softly, turning his face to rub Garak’s cheek.
“That’s exactly how I made it out of that place alive. You should really let go of me though. If, as you’ve hinted at in the past, there are those looking to discern some sort of romantic entanglement between the two of us then this is likely only fueling that ludicrous notion.” He disengages just like that, taking Garak’s hands in his.
“Then who is going to look after my Kelas?” Parmak laughs at that, not bitterly, but genuinely amused thinking that Garak must be making a joke. But then again, he’s always been a poor judge of humor.
“I’m not your Kelas, Elim. You’ve been correct in your insistence these years of the impossibility of that.” He squeezes Garak’s hands kissing them. “Be well. You really should allow that tea to aid your sleep. You’ve been looking tired lately. Rest will do your mind well. I say that as your doctor and your friend. You’ll never survive, yourself, if you don’t look out properly.”
“You don’t find a certain irony in that statement?”
“Irony is for those with dull wits and an inflated sense of their own powers of observation.” Parmak yawns- or rather he keeps his mouth closed, a brief interlude while his jaw locks and that sound roars in his ears. He learned once never to allow his mouth to open without his conscious action. He learned that from Dr. Medek as a matter of fact when he was still imprisoned. “That may have been unkind of me but it’s late and I forget myself. A walk will surely wake my manners back up.” He lets go of Garaks hands.
            “There’s no talking you out of this, is there?” Parmak hears that question and frowns.
“I would say that’s the tone of a man who is about to resort to violence to achieve his aims, but that couldn’t possibly be right.” Parmak turns his back deliberately, the long braid a defiant whipping tail. “I recall a man saying such a thing would be considered gauche.”
“Do you really believe I wouldn’t strike you because I’d find it tacky, Kelas?”
“I know you won’t Elim,” Parmak answers simply. Garak shakes his head with a small rueful smile that Parmak doesn’t see but still envisions when he speaks.
“As always, my dear, you know me far too well. You really have no idea how unfortunate a thing that it.” Those words spoken ominously still Parmak’s movement and he stops. Of course. Garak would never leave things at that.
“I already know, my friend,” Parmak says, a realization, a bitter smile on his face as he feels Garak’s presence leave just as a rattle comes loud, louder around the corner,
“Doctor Parmak!” He sees one of his subordinates, a young woman named Lora, accompanied by an older guard who really shouldn’t be as winded as he is. She’s visibly relieved at the sight of him. “I’m sorry to interrupt your evening walk but there’s an emergency. We don’t know why, but several of the guards have taken sick and the infirmary is overrun right now between them and the usual. We’ve got our hands full. They keep coming in stomach pains, nausea, vomiting, some blood, some seizing. We’d thought food poisoning at first but the onset was so sudden and severe and the similarities were... .”
            Parmak looks at her as she continues in a rush, not having Garak’s flair for the dramatic to feign ignorance or surprise. Instead he just sighs softly, already starting to walk. He doesn’t damn Garak as he does, knowing the source, knowing the cure, knowing that a man who would bring down an empire out of vengeance for a man who could never be his lover would think nothing of setting such a diversion. Ah, my poor Elim, you’ve already been damned I’m afraid.
   Julian shifts nervously from one foot to another as he watches the moon, the clouds moving slowly to cover it. The rocks cast their large shadow and there’s definitely a chill as the air blows past him. It’s almost too cold for a human, he couldn’t imagine what the night would feel like for a Cardassian. But then again, it was Parmak who suggested meeting here. He still wonders if he’s not being set up, if this isn’t a game that Garak’s playing with him. He’s always been fond of deception, of the grand drama of the game playing out. Back then, Julian thought he was merely referring to the theater. But when he thinks of that earnest of Parmak’s eyes, the way that he held Julian’s hand between his, it was enough to get Julian to believe any damn stupid thing he was told. But hasn’t the Chief always said there’s no such thing as an honorable Cardie? Maybe he’s just a better liar than the rest. Julian sits down maudlin, that sense of anticipation bleeding out to the cool rock beneath him as he draws his knees up to his chest and gives Parmak more time to arrive before he returns back to the encampment a fool. He scratches his face, the smooth skin still unnerving him, reminding him far more of that past with Garak.
   But that’s how Garak remembers you best, Julian. And no matter how exciting, you’re here for Garak not for his… his whatever. Julian had stopped short of cutting his hair. He preferred the slightly unruly mop if for no other reason than to run his fingers through when anxious. He felt anxious quite a bit these last few days since meeting with his father. Can’t imagine why, Julian. Only agreed to kill the man you once swore to give your life for. You’ve only got a lay with a killer, a murderer, a liar, an oath breaker. You’ve only got to smile for the man who took everything from you and let him fuck you before you slit his throat. Julian shut his eyes tightly, shaking his head, buries his face on his knees. Because the worst thing of all is knowing that his body is already longing, aching for Garak again. Even with everything that’s happened he can’t help but drive his forehead into his knees as if that could somehow force every bit of Garak from his brain. He sits up, breathing out, at least knowing that for tonight there will be one blessed respite of a different man, a different body joining his, perhaps
   “If you’re waiting for Kelas, my dear, I’m sad to report that he’s been detained indefinitely and asked if I might keep you company in his stead.” Julian practically jumps not having heard a single sound as Garak seems to materialize out of nowhere. Likely from behind an adjacent rock when Julian wasn’t looking, the shadow casting darkened moonlight in front of him before he looks up and sees a cloaked mask of death peering down at him.
“Garak!” Julian stands quickly, brushing his clothes off as he faces him once more, this time no crowds, no sun, no light between them. No. No, it can’t be, it can’t be you here I’m not ready. I need more time. I’m not pulled together, don’t you understand that?!
“You still startle so easily, my dear, I worry for you. I can only imagine your response if I was some brigand bound and determined to set upon your riches.” Garak assists him, Julian feeling the adrenaline rushing, as those hands brush down his body. He can’t see much of Garak as heavily bundled as he is. Of course, Garak loathes it when it’s cold.
   “I wasn’t expecting to see you tonight,” Julian says still trying to collect himself. He doesn’t meet Garak’s eyes, instead looking off to the side. He wants to cry because his damn hands won’t be still.
“You sound disappointed.”
“No!” Too quick, too violent a turn of his head. It’s still too hard to look at him standing so closely. Julian isn’t sure what to do with his hands absently clasping them behind, nervously twining fingers and thumbs together. “S-surely… you can understand… what it’s like to see a dead man standing before you.” Julian takes a deep breath, willing himself to look, to face him and not see that darkened countenance holding life bleeding out of his hands. And as always in that image he could see the blood irrationally on his own hands, everywhere, covering him, Garak-
“What do I know of seeing a dead man walk to you arms outstretched like some nightmare human fantasy come to life? That may very well be one for the philosophers as they say. I can only imagine such a thing.”
“Maybe you can at that, Garak,” Julian says tersely, feeling that anger starting to build as Garak stands there as if a thousand lives and lies don’t stand between them. As if it should really be that simple. But it is! That’s what you’re supposed to be doing!
   “Come now, Julian, Surely you cannot have so easily forgotten the sweet nothings that you intended to whisper to me should we ever meet again.” Julian stops short, almost feeling as if Garak is guiding him through his own performance. No. That’s not possible. Garak has always been so good at throwing him off balance. Quiet. Be quiet, for once stop talking at me while I clear my head. Stop looking at me just stop being. Julian wants to grab him and shake him and demand answers. He wants to kill him just as badly as he wants to kiss him. What are you doing here? Why are you here? This isn’t your damn game, this is my mission, this is my life and you can’t just-
“Then why don’t you tell me the sweet nothings I should be saying to a dead man, Garak? Why don’t you tell me what you whisper to Kelas every night before you send him out to seduce me.” He isn’t even sure where that comes from but he can feel that act slipping away like some sneaky Cardassian’s shedding scales. Garak’s scales will begin shedding soon. He’ll need a new stone and shuttup up Julian what the hell is wrong with you?!
   There’s an odd twitch at that, something that flicks across Garak’s face that Julian can’t read. He can’t think straight either.
“Kelas is dead,” Garak replies with forced gregarity. “A fact you might recall were you to think back.”
“No, you told me that he’s dead.”
“Is there a difference?” Julian just looks at him in answer. He opens his mouth and shuts it again with a soft bitter laugh.
“I suppose to you, there isn’t.” Julian laughs again. He swallows it down fast, afraid that it might turn to something else, that emotion burbling up dangerously. “There’s no place for emotion, Bashir. It’s time.” “Please don’t make me...” “Do you want to live?” Julian is sure that he’s going mad hearing those voices, those dreams masquerading as memories. He hadn’t been tormented by them in so long but last night, this night, it seems to be all that his mind can hold at times. Stop it, Julian, just stop.
   “You’re angry with me,” Garak observes.
“You’re damn right I’m angry!” Julian doesn’t even try to hold it back. He doesn’t try to cache it in nicer terms, he doesn’t try to hold that illusion up as he grabs Garak’s robe. “Do you have any idea... Do you know what you’ve... You’ve... You ruined me! You ruined everything! You ruined my life! You took everything from me!”
“And yet here you stand alive, unharmed, when by all rights you should be dead.” Garak stares almost angrily at those hands, not making any move to dislodge them.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?!”
“Simply that you told me when we met that you were dying, not long for this world, making preparations for your body to be received by the supposedly loving arms of whatever God you profess you believe in. And so I repeat, my dear, here you stand alive, unharmed.”
   “You’re saying I’m the liar now?! Me?!”
“I’m not certain what else you’d have me say, Julian. Only you know how this little dance of ours is supposed to play out just as I suspect that you knew back then.”
“Sorry! Sorry! You miserable heartless... You! How... How how bloody hard is it to just say it?!” Julian steps back hitting that rock, hardly feeling that pain with the side of his fist, left hand joining the right. “Even if you don’t mean it... even if you don’t fucking mean it!” Julian hits again, fists hitting hard, his eyes unfocusing on that dark ground, a sob, a scream, a guttural vociferation that seems to come from another entirely just screams as Julian lets it out, eyes shut tightly, not able to look at Garak watching so damn apathetically as he falls apart. “A lie, a bloody lie, that shite that falls from your mouth like breathing you couldn’t make that one last lie?!”
   Julian sinks to his knees with that final bitter plea, breaking apart as he hits that ground on his knees while Garak still watches, supposing Parmak may have been the better choice after all. Kelas Parmak really is a far better man than he, but it isn’t a better man that’s needed now. Tain doesn’t call Garak when he needs a better man. A better man would be on his knees already from the wretched sight of the one he ruined knees weeping like a child. A kindness... a simple empathetic kindness of a better man. That’s where Parmak would be. That’s where Parmak would tell him he should be right now. But that’s because Parmak, unlike any other would understand just by looking at the flex of his hand and the slow draws of Garak’s breath that he wants more than anything to do just that. Which is exactly why he cannot.
   “I’ve noticed it’s a failing of most to conflate dignified men with decent ones.” Garak’s voice is softer than it ought to be. He lets that expression fall when Julian’s eyes no longer see him- when his head is bowed. Only then does he catch his own hand from reaching out, does he feel that frown tug his mouth hard. “People like their monsters neat and pat. People expect their monsters to look the part. People never want to accept that they’re no...” Garak puts a hand over his mouth, squeezing his own jaw between his fingers as if to silence himself from speaking any further. And when Julian looks up again, Garak is careful to hide any bit of that weakness as he moves that hand to adjust his cloak. He can see the tears on Julian’s face, the anguished clear eye bleeding of a man in torment. Garak calmly clasps his hands behind his back thinking he’ll break his own fingers if he has to. He wonders if, those decades ago when Parmak took his hands in that interrogation room and told him that he could see him... what if he hadn’t...
   “You’re wrong Julian, when you say it’s that simple,” Garak says softly, feeling that strange self destructive elation that’s become the cornerstone of his life. He asks himself if it would have been so difficult to go along with Julian’s little face, if that really would’ve been such a small thing to earn Tain’s praise. But Garak sees no reason to break the cycle of a lifetime of disappointment. “There’s another lie that I haven’t told you as well.” He waits for those emotions to blur rainbow across Julian’s face when they settle on some odd sparking hope of revelation. Garak wonders what it’s like to be able to cry like that as he crouches down, taking Julian’s face in one hand remembering that if he learned nothing else from Tain it was how to turn kindness quickly to cruelty. Julian sits back, kneeling besides him as they’d done so many times before. He doesn’t look at Garak but straight ahead another hard twist of his mouth reasserting itself. Steeling for the drop. But Garak doesn’t drop feathers. He drops dreams to be buried in stardust.
“What’s that, Garak?” Julian asks with a hoarse voice. Garak wants to kiss his throat and “make it better” as Julian would say. He thinks that at least if Kelas Parmak won’t ever have the sense in his head to hate him then at least-
“I never told you I loved you either,” he says quietly.
   And that’s when Julian stabs him.
   Julian awoke to the sound of charcoal lightly scratching over a page. At least that’s what he saw when the sunlight through the window finally forced enough heat and light to his face to cause him to stir. He blinked away sleep, along with the darkness of the dream that he thought would never end. It was much the same as it had ever been- that dark room, that man, Sloan. He’d felt his body thrash around as there was some bile poured down his throat that made every bit of his body feel as if it were on fire. He was never able to scream in the dream. He could never see more than that man’s face. And then came the blood, everything painted red as he found himself in another room, smaller, more confined, damp, the rats circling him and another child. He could still feel that fever burning through him, that child screaming his name as he held hands to his… her? Throat and- And Julian shook that off violently, breathing in slow, some instinct telling him not to show any signs of weakness or distress as he sat up. It’s only a dream, Julian. It’s only ever a dream. Remember, you have several recollection, for that time. There were a lot of things you were told, that was… ten. You were ten and you were still in school. You had two friends named…
   Julian never could quite recall the names, but he knew the faces, he was sure of it. And Sloan was nothing, not a monster, just a man… a man who… he… escaped from? Julian almost felt that head pain return as he tried to remember and he realized that scratching sound had stopped. He pulled himself together calmly, taking in the scene, Garak kneeling on the floor some few feet from him with a large paper stretched over a board, sketching… him? Julian looked as him curiously as he rolled over and stretched, on his knees, head bowed, arms as far as the could reach above his head. It was then he realized that he wasn’t wearing the same clothes as last night. He looked down at the long, white shift, thankful that the loose fabric fell past his knees. He was somewhat dismayed to find nothing underneath as he sat up and back. He heard Garak sigh.
“I’d hoped you might have stayed asleep a few minutes longer. I wasn’t quite finished but I suppose I’ve enough of a start to extrapolate the rest.” He absently wiped his smudged hands on the dark brown pants he was wearing.
   “Is there a reason that I’m wearing this?” Julian asked, seeing that it was too big on the shoulders, already slipping off the left as if he were a child in a man’s clothes.
“I’m afraid that your episode last night became somewhat severe, though judging by your confusion and your behavior it seems you don’t recall much. It won’t take me more than a few days to mend your clothes. You have my deepest apologies, Julian, I had no idea that you would react so poorly to the drink.”
“No, it wasn’t that, I-“ Julian immediately quieted himself. Shuttup, you idiot, are you crazy? Let him think it was some reaction to whatever was in that, don’t let him know that you’re completely crazy as well as dying. Julian swallowed with a wan smile. “But ah… you’re probably right, I really should have warned you that my ah.. aversion to alcohol is for physiological reasons, not merely religious.”
   Julian watched almost expectantly, praying that Garak would believe that flimsy excuse.
“Is this yours?” He tugged the fabric of the long shirt, shaking it for emphasis. Garak’s attention was neatly diverted and he nodded, already beginning to clean up his supplies. Julian took a moment to look around the room deciding it had to be a secondary rather than Garak’s bedroom proper. He was laying on a palette, firm but surprisingly soft with several mismatched blankets surrounding him almost like a nest. He would have expected to see tailoring supplies and fabrics but instead found various canvases, a few stacks of books and a small low table for eating. Garak was puttering around and when his back was turned, Julian took a moment to inhale deeply the scent of the shift, finding that it did smell just a bit like Garak. He also wasn’t sure whether the scent of the oils from the previous night had worn off or if he’d become acclimated to the scent. He hoped the former if Garak’s sense of smell was as sensitive as it seemed to be.
   “I’m sorry for the trouble I’ve caused you,” Julian said as Garak practically shoved a cinnamon flavored chew stick at him. Oh come on, my breath cannot possibly be that terrible. Julian snuck a quick sniff into his hand wrinkling his nose. Point taken then.
“Think nothing of it, Julian, though I do hope the palace guard don’t think that I’ve spirited you away somewhere.” Julian chewed not particularly thinking when he stupidly blurted out,
“It won’t be a problem. I let Eddington know not to worry if I wasn’t back because I.” He stopped, a gasp inhaling strong cinnamon saliva down his throat and he let himself cough out an embarrassing slobbering mess over the shift, face hot and embarrassed.
“I’m shocked, Julian,” Garak exclaimed in mock surprise as he handed him a glass of water. “And here I’d merely thought to have a pleasant evening of conversation. I’d no idea that such salacious thoughts were running through that devious human mind of yours.” Julian failed for a moment, as if in that violent fit of coughing he might give him a good smack on the shoulder.
“Ha,” was all Julian responded when he finally was able to breathe. It was still half wheezed but it did clear the spots up from his vision.
   Garak was already carefully indexing supplies back, extremely fastidious and Julian took a moment to slide over to the sketch. He pulled that shirt up back over his shoulder.
“That’s er... quite exceptional you know but I don’t really think that I look like that.” It was about seventy centimeters by his measure and still somewhat rough, but he could see himself sleeping amidst that pile, sunlight hitting his face. His leg was bent, knee peeking out from the cover bare, and there was some small hint of sensuality that almost embarrassed him as he looked. “It’s beautiful… it really is.”
“It’s you, Julian. But that’s the nature of the subject and the artist. It’s up to the artist to draw out those hidden details, to bring that essence to life, or perhaps as Kelas would say to immortalize the soul on the page- he was always particular about having his image captured. But Kelas always was overly mystical with those sorts of things.” Garak shook his head as he knelt down beside him looking at the picture at the same time. “That philosophy isn’t exactly encouraged in the Empire and I’m afraid it’s what led to his… unfortunate circumstances. We like to think of ourselves as rather staunch pragmatists. Religion is always the bane of any decent civilization as I’m sure you’re well aware.”
“You realize that completely flies in the face of Federation doctrine, don’t you? All religions are welcome, respected, appreciated… And didn’t you tell me before you only knew this man for a day?”
“An hour at most I’m sure,” Garak added and Julian couldn’t help the suspicious look.
   “It’s none of my business if you’ve another lover but I don’t fancy him busting in here pointing a sword at my throat.” Garak stared at him- and really, there was no other word for it- and then immediately began laughing. Julian wasn’t certain if he was still being toyed with as he motioned to the door animated.
“Right, laugh, for all I know he’s in the next room sleeping, or in the kitchen sharpening a cleaver to take to both me and you for your infidelity!” Julian was encouraged by Garak’s laughing, not having seen such a display in the all the time he’d known him. “He’s probably cursing the years he’s wasted on you as we speak.” Garak had smiled, had grinned, had made all sorts of expressions really, but Julian was beginning to think that the mild amused grin was all he was capable of until now.
“Oh imagine, Kelas Parmak with a sword, with a meat clever, my Julian you do have the most exceptional imagination!” The laughter didn’t endure, never really rising beyond a long extended series of soft chuckles but to Julian it was the most d brilliant thing to see on Garak’s face. He was hardly breathless, but Julian, still kneeling next to him in front of that page looked over almost nervously, thinking that he wanted to- Irrationally, his heart was starting to beat faster with some anticipated action and he wasn’t sure why.
   No, he did. My Julian... And he knew exactly why when he stopped Garak’s hand from reaching for the sketch- likely to put it up- his fingers carefully crawling over the top of Garak’s hand until they both held still. He looked at their two hands, some slender wasp entrapping a dark butterfly . No, Garak was no butterfly as he turned to Julian steadily.
“Thank you for… for drawing me like that,” Julian said before Garak could divert him to another subject. “I… I sometimes forget that I ah…” Julian looks at Garak’s mouth long, lingering.
“I like to sketch people that I find fascinating. People that I have an opportunity to meet. Cardassian memory is perfect, flawless, and yet if I were to bring your image to mind there would be something lacking that the portrait doesn’t. I wanted to capture that.”
“Is that… is that really how I look to you?” Garak almost hesitated at the question, as if he were somehow exposing himself, looking at the darkened damp of the shift where Julian had coughed out that cinnamon spit.
“You know that there may be a stain if I don’t tend to that right away.” Julian thought he heard a small subtle waver of Garak’s usually even voice. He was pretty sure his heart beat three times just then in a count of one.
   “I can pay you for it.” Julian said, voice dropping to a whisper. His body moved. He didn’t do it, it just moved, of its own volition, he would swear- not that he would ever make such a flippant oath. Julian could feel his hand shake over Garak’s, fingers climbing up his forearm, the smooth gray skin bare with those rolled up sleeves. He felt the faint scales, soft like a snake but more subtle than that and his fingers brushed the inside of his elbow, Garak couldn’t hide a hitch in his breath.
“I wouldn’t dream of asking for payment,” he said voice less steady and Julian realized at once just how close Garak’s face was to his.
“I really don’t… I’ve never done this before… I…”
“Far be it for a Cardassian to protest an excess of dialogue… And should you ever find yourself interrogated by that nefarious Obsidian Order, I should hope you take this to your grave my dear but…” Garak’s other hand had moved, Julian was brilliantly, suddenly aware when he felt those fingers on the back of his neck bringing their lips to nearly touch, a small tilt of Garak’s head tilting his world off its axis. “I’m going to need you to stop talking now.”
   That hand pushed a small nudge and Julian found that same cinnamon scent wafting back at him. Did that mean that he was expecting to- That thought cut off. Garak kissed him softly, lightly at first, as if he wasn't quite certain himself of what he was doing. Julian tensed. Garak’s hand dropped to let him pull back. He did just a bit but then he tilted his head at a better angle and before Garak could regroup, could apologize, Julian’s mouth was to his again, another soft press. It was just enough not to be considered chaste. Julian was so nervous his eyes fluttered flicking between open and shut and he squeezed Garak’s bicep with trembling fingers. His body turned more into Garak’s and he kissed him more in earnest another press pucker of lips that lingered, his tongue absently licking his dry lips and he felt Garak’s flick tease in response. He gasped, breath hitching, not expecting that and he teased back, tasting not just cinnamon but some strong cardamom coffee that he never would’ve imagined Garak enjoying. It was likely sweet, and when Garak’s tongue lapped his mouth, he tasted that faint sugar hint as well.
   I knew that. I remembered that about you. That thought, that fact that he remembered that pleased him. Julian felt a flying sense of elation kick in, that thought that he was doing this alive, now, not cursed, not ripped into some macabre fantasy the way his father, the way the clerics would often swear at him. The sun’s angle only streamed in more brilliantly, the room awash with warm light and Julian felt the shift slip from his shoulder with a tickle. He barely paid it any mind. Julian kissed Garak open mouthed, never imagining such a tawdry act would bring such a rush of heat, his legs shaking as he leaned in, hand scrabbling up to Garak’s shoulder. Julian felt that tongue lick the corner of his mouth, painting fire across his skin and when Garak’s mouth followed with a slow soft trail Julian’s head tilted, eyes beaming brightly towards that open window as his chest heaved. They were on the second floor, the curtains gently swaying, but that breeze didn’t reach him, feverish fire flicking with that hot tongue up the column of his neck pulling a whimper from as deep down as his toes.
   They curled, bare feet rubbing each other as his hips rocked into nothing, that motion, that shift of the soft cloth a breeze itself over his cock making him aware of just how painfully, immediately aroused he was. Julian swallowed, breathing out Garak’s name as his fingers clutch climbed higher like a spider jumping over fallen leaves until he was tugging half pathetically at the soft brown cotton fingers wringing it until the beds of his nails hurt. He tried to breathe somewhat steady, those hurried breaths up dissipating into the humid air only some dying sputter as Garak tasted his earlobe, drawing it between teeth, pulling sucking, every nibble a nearly orgasmic breath of his name in some perfect cadence that was some primitive pagan chant calling his cock up further towards the heavens. He felt Garak’s hand on his thigh just then, big, broad palm spanning the entire width of his slim leg making him feel small, vulnerable as fingers squeezed, not pushing fabric up but seeming content to massage, to rub, making him gasp Garak’s name harder, more incoherently until he was certain he’d elongated that sound into four breathy syllables.
   And then Julian finally remembered he had another hand calling it up from that useless dangle at his side to slowly tug that fabric from beneath him. He guided Garak’s hand to that hem, turning to look at him with a heavy expression not sure the he trusted his own voice.
“Are you sure?” Garak asked that tongue flick tasting that air between them seeming to also punctuate that question. “Are you sure that you’re thinking with the correct… facilities?” He let his palm pass over Julian’s cock squeezing, caressing until Julian had to bite his lip hard and grab Garak’s wrist so that he could even force the words out. He managed to stutter “please”, eyes going in and out of focus as Garak circled that palm with a firm press to his hardness, making the slit spill precome between his stomach and that white fabric. Julian’s hips moved, pushing, his hand flying out behind him so he didn’t go falling backwards. He just barely caught himself as he tipped part sideways, part backwards, realizing that he was still holding Garak’s shirt, off balancing them both.
   Well maybe a touch of that was Julian tugging a bit harder than he needed to. He was actually surprised in the back of his mind that he didn’t hear a rip as he skillfully slid his legs out beneath, not quite sure how he was able to do it. But he’d gotten used to those strange little things that his body seemed to know to do without his awareness. The crush of his one arm between them wasn’t entirely comfortable, but Julian was enjoying that artfully contrived spill too much to care. He looked up at Garak on top of him with a cheeky grin.
“Does that answer your question?” He said, a bit flushed at how breathy he sounded. There was an unconscious aversion of his eyes to the bed but he forced them back to Garak’s face, Garak lifting himself up, adjusting his position. There was an unreadable look mingled with lust or else Julian was just hopelessly over analyzing. He didn’t think so because Garak was strangely silent, some odd thought or another going through his head and that was when Julian smirked, deciding that he’d be bold and extracted his legs from beneath, thigh sliding up Garak’s waist.
   He felt exposed, face hotter, as he noted there was a distinct lack of matter against his own hard length. Of course, the Cardassian male doesn’t full evert his... his manhood until he’s ready to... that thought drowned him.
“Does that answer your question?” he repeated wondering if he might feel that stub of tail as well if he felt for it.
“One of many,” Garak finally said somewhat evasively fingers mapping the side of Julian’s face as if he wasn’t in any particular rush to continue, as if he’d rather commit his skin, the touch to memory. Julian wriggled, quite eager to be on with it and those light tickling fingers weren’t helping.
“Can I…” Julian shivered at the light touch to his neck. “Can I help you answer any others?”
“Perhaps,” he answered noncommittally, Julian feeling that other hand not having vanished into mist as he’d thought but now gliding up the outside of his left thigh making those hair tickle, making him nearly choke a second time at the delicacy. Julian squirmed again, jaw tight. His head dropped further back, tipping, throat sweat sheened, convulsing while Garak amused himself with the texture of the hair on his leg not moving further.
   Julian struggled for breath, that touch brushing over and over making that patch of skin sensitive and he twisted hips to no avail, finally freeing his own hands, working them around Garak’s chest to slide under his shirt to his back. Garak’s back was warm, the skin with the faint texture of scales until his fingers tips brushed the ridges of his spine. It was then that Garak’s fingers curled in, nails, fingers digging into Julian’s leg and he kept that up, feather light revenge, a wicked smile as he heard Garak pant and say something softly that sounded hallway between a hiss and some Cardassian epithet Julian had picked up only by chance.
“Language,” Julian whispered playfully as Garak’s head bent again to kiss him more roughly, messier. He liked that, he realized. He liked it quite a lot and nipped at Garak’s mouth in return. He reveled in the torrid response, another swear word, a duck of Garak’s head crushing his mouth hard. Julian kneaded at his back more insistently, feeling the play of muscles moving beneath his fingers, strong, undulating as he pushed up.
   His right hand stole lower, feeling Garak groan deep from the throat when he dipped beneath his pants to that little stub of tail almost like a stub of bone, like an elbow covered in heavy scales, cartilage that was supposed to be.

“Ha.... hsss..... fsssshhh....” Garak’s mouth nearly ceased any motion as Julian stroked him, tipping his own head then to taste Garak, teeth drawing lightly over the ridges of his neck before they dis
appeared into that shirt- accidentally at first, but then deliberate when Garak hissed against him again.
“Guls, naughty human....”
“You love it,” he sassed back, thigh squeezing waist and it was then that Julian felt the earth shift tectonic plates, his leg hiked up harder around Garak’s waist. There was a slow dragging grind that made Julian pass white over his open eyes not sure when they even fell shut. head falling back against the wood floor with a grunt, hands raising to cradle his head quickly. He let his vision swim back open some undersea daze passing as Garak sat back disengaged just as Julian protested.
“Really I’m fine you don’t have to-“
   He stopped, seeing in that time, some sharpened time in a bottle passing that Garak had-
“Keep them closed,” Garak said just as Julian caught a glimpse, pants down, some undignified sex thing that still looked damn gorgeous, Garak’s naked prick drawn out from soft folding drawn taut to a magnificent dark grey phallus hard, proud, practically glistening. Julian threw a dramatic arm over his eyes with a huff, feeling his own bottom exposed, cock still dangled in that damn gown.
“Don’t you think I want to see you?” Julian asked thinking that Garak really shouldn’t feel so self conscious when Julian was- as his father often bemoaned- a child that a good breeze would knock over.
“What makes you think that you won’t?” Garak asked with a drop of his voice, leaving no recourse for answer when he easily tok both of Julian’s legs together and threw them ankles crossed over his shoulder, Julian’s ass curiously in the air just long enough for him to-
   “Oh God...” The words were out when he felt that first slick thrust and felt Garak’s cock slide between his thighs and he swore he was never more thankful in his life for those long skinny legs when Garak groaned his name, cock slipping past his balls, hitting the base of his own cock rubbing, some monster thing surely to reach all the way to- please... oh... said out loud he thought because Garak playfully chided him for his impatience as he moved slowly, deeply, Julian wishing he’d just shit his eyes instead of going for such a dramatic artist’s pose with that arm. He whimpered, free hand clawing at the floor blindly scrabbling the wood as Garak fucked between his thighs, his balls tight, so full and heavy he thought he’d break.
“Yes... like that... stay... hsss... ssso... tight...” panted, thrust, words, fuck, some puzzle of words tumbled in his head as Garak moved wet, hot, faster and harder until Julian felt the smack to his ass and tried to move his body to match that rhythm instead helpless to do more than lay, pray, praise from his babbling lips as he reached down, body rocking, grabbing his cock leaking over his stomach nearly coming from just that touch.
   Julian let his arm tilt, tip just a bit to see the tip of Garak’s cock, fat swollen glans penetrating that small tight juncture that angle make it look like it was coming right for him, and he wondered irrationally how it would feel, how it would taste pulsing between his lips with the same intensity. His hips lifted higher, Garak’s thrusts becoming shorter, sharper, Julian overhand, underhand, stroking himself hard as that beautiful prick penetrating him made him want so badly to-
“Ahh ahh ahh...” from his own lips growing louder almost like some second doppleganger seizing him to screaming thinking that this couldn’t possibly stop here and that if he was going to die it was going to be by some sinful sodomy because it this felt so damn bloody wonderful then surely everything else would be-
   “Julian... J.... J” like that. It would be just like Garak stuttering his name as he drew his legs closer and Julian prayed right then dirty derelict for that load to shoot clear down his throat as he stroked, as he let fingers squeeze his cock near coming.
“Please... please just...” That impious imploring as Julian imagined that length lower, in a way he never dreamed before, clenching his thighs awkward, the best if Garak were to be believed and if there was ever a prayer answered in his life, he would later reflect it was that one, Garak holding him still, with a rush of heat, swearing, a hard smack to Julian’s ass as he released, hot, sticky on Julian’s stomach, his chest, a few splashes hitting his open mouth salty thick. Yess! It made his back arch with his own orgasm shaking, dragging him to that single point of heat finally allowed to explode, long, hard strokes what seemed forever as his arm dropped, eyes opening at last with heavy breaths. His legs remained upright, locked tight, frozen still even as he realized that Garak was no longer in the room. He didn’t think he could move them ever again if he tried. Not a single thing beside this moment.
   If he was damned then so be it.
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