Bashir's own thrashing woke him and, after a panicky moment, he let out a relieved breath that it was only a dream. His breathing was still ragged as he lay, trying to calm down and push the dream away. It was too horrible; it was impossible. He was safe; everything was all right. To distract himself with pleasanter thoughts, he reviewed his pre-dream night with Garak. He judged it a success: he ached a little from their lovemaking but a painkiller would take care of it. He stretched and sniffed at the pillow next to him. Garak's spicy scent lingered pleasantly on his linen and on his skin. He was alone as usual, Garak insisted they be discreet and left in the station's pre-dawn for his own quarters. But all was well; it had only been a bad dream. He'd been afraid of being dominated by Garak, he analyzed, and when that had not happened, he'd let his fears act out in a dream. And that was all there was to it; just residual anxiety being processed out of the psyche in the dream state, that's all. He loved Garak; Garak would never mistreat him. Leaning over the empty pillow, Bashir inhaled the Cardassian's scent once more. After their first night together, he'd not bathed so as to linger in his lover's presence the entire day. Since then he'd grown somewhat less sentimental and more secure in the knowledge that Garak would be with him on any evening he'd name. It was a pleasant sort of power, to be desired like this by the mysterious Cardassian. Equally pleasant was the desire he felt for Garak; it had been a long time since he'd felt this way, too long. Putting these delightful thoughts on hold, Bashir rose from the bed he'd so recently shared with Garak and went into his day. Glancing at the tailor shop, he'd just barely time to note it was closed before the red alert klaxons sounded and all hell broke loose on the station. It seemed to Bashir that the Cardassians secured the station with incredible speed and almost without a fight. He was taken to a security cell and held in isolation for hours and hours. He was given food and water but his guards would tell him nothing. He began to feel drowsy, perhaps there had been something in the water... Although he fought when the guards came for him, the doctor's hands were bound behind him and he was led away blindfolded. 'What don't they want me to see?' he wondered. Eventually he heard a door swish open and the guards removed the blindfold. Bashir found himself in his own quarters. He turned to find Garak standing in the doorway, dismissing the guards. "Elim!" The tailor was carrying a garment case that he tossed onto Bashir's couch. "Yes, Julian. Are you damaged?" the Cardassian asked, untying his hands and examining the broken skin on his knuckles from the fights he'd had. "Do you still have the regenerator here?" "I think so..." Bashir was drowsy and nonplused. Here he was in his own quarters with Garak and nothing was amiss. Everything was just as he'd left it that morning, including the regenerator by the bed. He looked at it numbly as the tailor led him to sit down on the still rumpled sheets and removed the cuts and scrapes on his hands. Even Garak seemed the same in his usual chic but somber suit and playful manner as he plied the regenerator over the doctor's hands until the evidence of Bashir's resistance had vanished. "There, my dear," Garak said briskly. "Good as new." "Elim... Elim, what happened today?" Bashir demanded, shaking his head to clear it. "Whatever do you mean, dear?" "There were... were Cardassians in the station… and I fought..." Bashir looked at his hands. They ached a little but there were no cuts. The room started to spin but he drew a deep breath and mastered himself. Of course, he remembered Garak had regenerated them just a moment ago. "And I was captured and then brought here," he went on more firmly. "And now you're here so tell me what happened." "My dear, how vivid, how bold. I, on the other hand, had a very boring day with nothing to amuse me but looking forward to this evening with you." Garak said, slipping his arm around Bashir's waist and drawing him close. "So you want me to believe there are no Cardassians on DS9 right now?" "Only me," Garak said, nuzzling Bashir's long golden neck. "Then let's go have a drink at Quark's," the doctor said rising from Garak's arms, or tried to; he was held fast. "I'd rather not." "I insist!" Bashir stood and walked straight up to his door, which did not open, even for his medical override. He spun to glare at Garak, standing calmly by the bedroom doorway. "If there are no other Cardassians on this station, then why doesn't my own door open for me?" His throat was dry, the room was spinning; he leaned against door, barely able to grate the words out. He was falling and could do nothing to stop it. He felt Garak catch him, lift him and from a great distance Bashir heard the tailor say: "Because I was hoping the drug would kick in before you could ask me such difficult questions." ~~~ He woke in Garak's familiar arms. "I'm having such strange dreams, Elim," he said softly. "Are you, dear?" "Yes. I dreamed the Cardassians retook the station." Bashir called for half lights and examined his hands. "I fought..." "You were thrashing in your sleep," Garak soothed, drawing the Terran back into his arms. "What time is it?" "0100." "That's why you're still here, it's still early." Bashir wondered why he felt so groggy after he'd slept for a few hours. "Ummmm. Go back to sleep, my dear." "Actually, I do need to get up," Bashir said obliquely as he climbed over Garak and went into the bathroom. After using the head, he took a quick shower, hoping it would clear his foggy brain. He felt like he'd forgotten something very important but perhaps he'd just had too much to drink the night before. But he could not remember drinking anything before going to bed with Garak. He could only remember strange dreams of Cardassian soldiers and Gul uniforms and... He jumped when Garak called him: "Julian, are you all right in there?" "Yes, fine, be right out," he stammered. "Will you get me an Altair water, please?" He heard Garak say 'of course' and move away from the door. Taking a deep breath, Bashir stepped back into the bedroom. Nothing amiss there. He followed Garak into the living room and smiled as the Cardassian handed him his drink. He took a sip and looked around the room, which seemed to be in order. Then he noticed the garment case lying over the back of the couch. He tensed and out of the corner of his eye, saw Garak moving toward him. Flinging his water into the Cardassian's face, Bashir sprang for the door, which did not open. Garak was on him in an instant, hauling him up by the wrists and back into the bedroom. The doctor fought but the tailor's grip was like iron and the Cardassian's superior strength was unassailable. "Garak! Let go of me! You're hurting me!" His request was granted as Garak threw him onto the bed. "My apologies, *Doctor.*" Garak snarled as he pinned his lover beneath him and kissed him. "It did happen!" Bashir hissed when he could get his mouth free again. "Julian, just let me make love to you and stop all this nonsense," Garak said patiently. He was pleased when Bashir went limp beneath him. "Elim, please, tell me what happened before I go insane. Please." Bashir pleaded so beautifully, Garak found it irresistible. He sighed. "What do you remember?" "The station was boarded by Cardassian troops. There was a fight, we lost and O'Brien, Worf, and several others, and I were taken to security cells. I was separated from them... and then I was here with you. That's all I can remember." "That's quite accurate, Julian." "Then I want to be returned to the Starfleet prisoners," Bashir demanded. "There are conventions in warfare... "Federation conventions that Cardassians pride themselves on not following. In this operation there was no contingency for Starfleet prisoners. There seldom is." "Then I should be taken to the civilian prisoners..." "There are no prisoners of any kind in this operation." "Are you telling me everyone on the station is dead?" "That is my understanding." "Then why am I still alive?" Bashir asked after a long moment. "Because I asked for you." "You *asked* for me? And they just gave me to you?" Bashir's voice was hollow with shock. "Why?" "As a reward for my assistance in this operation. After all, they would only have killed you after they'd finished with you. My arrangement is so much nicer in so many ways. I'm sure you'll come to appreciate it once you've calmed down a little." Garak said gently as he turned Bashir over. "Don't fight, Julian, I'm stronger, remember." Pressed into the pillows, the memory of his dream and his present helplessness almost overwhelmed Bashir. Yet on he struggled against Garak's superior strength gently holding him in place. Struggled, knowing that Garak was simply waiting for him to either surrender or exhaust himself. Knowing his Cardassian lover would wait as long as necessary and that it would eventually happen. Why delay? Why not just get it over with? Bashir let his body go limp and felt an approving pat on his flank as Garak reached for the lubricant in its usual bedside drawer. "Elim..." "Yes, my dear?" As if there were nothing odd about this night, Garak didn't even pause in his preparations. "What was that? I didn't quite catch what you said?" He leaned closer to the human's lips. "Please don't hurt me." Bashir whispered again. Garak leaned closer. "Of course not, Julian. I won't hurt you." Reaching under Bashir, he stroked the human's flaccid penis before deciding that activity was a complete waste of time. With care, he pressed his cock into Bashir's unresisting body and fucked him. It was not perhaps the most inspired lovemaking but, as he came deep inside his lover, it was effective and enjoyable for him. He rolled off and noticed that Bashir was already asleep again. Had the doctor fallen asleep before he came? Garak wondered, and then decided it did not really matter. Curling around the fragile golden body, Garak dozed off himself. It had been a long day for him as well. ~~~ Bashir woke with a start and looked around his familiar bedroom. After listening intently for a moment, he let out a relieved breath that it had only been a dream. A strange, dreadful dream, but merely a dream, he told himself firmly. Or dreams, it seemed like more than one somehow. To distract himself with pleasanter thoughts, he reviewed his pre-dream night with Garak. He judged it a success: he ached a little from their lovemaking but a painkiller would take care of it. He stretched and sniffed at the pillow next to him. Garak's spicy scent lingered pleasantly on his linen and on his skin. He was alone as usual, Garak insisted they be discreet and left in the station's pre-dawn for his own quarters. Stretching again, he called for lights and noticed some bruises on his wrist and an empty garment case at the foot of the bed. 'It was just a dream, wasn't it?' he wondered, rising from his bed to find Garak, wearing a Gul uniform, drinking tea at his dining table and reading his copy of _Rishi Baba_. And he knew it hadn't been a dream. They left for Cardassia Prime an hour later. Dr. Bashir was never seen or heard of again. Federation inquiries found no trace of him, or any terran member of the former outpost DS9, after the Cardassian reoccupation of Bajor, nor in the ensuing war and peace treaty ceding the formerly Bajoran space to Cardassia in perpetuity. The Starfleet personnel of former outpost DS9 were all assumed dead and posthumously decorated for gallantry. ***end*** Back to the Start |