Let me turn all the tears
that you've cried into pearls
Hand them to me - I'm gonna keep,
keep them for you.

I want to hold you,
I want to kiss you.

Experience Pearls - Ace of Base

He was screaming.

At least, he felt as if he were screaming; some part of his mind that was surprisingly unscathed informed his logic that he was indeed screaming, pushed obviously by some basal Human instincts immune to will or pride. Yet inside, he was eerily calm. To possess such serenity ... he would have liked to curl around it and never let it go ... let it consume him ... to envelop him as his life slowly seeped away ...

But reality was cruel, and would not allow Dr. Julian Bashir such luxury. He gasped and felt his cheek burn where he had been struck.

"You pathetic human!" someone bawled at him and he shook his head, feeling with a sunken heart the cold air crawl over his naked chest. For some reason he hadn't been stripped completely yet. He had been left the dignity of trousers, though he would never understand why. His vision cleared and he stared back blandly at the Cardassian interrogator, a play of blinding light framing him. Although Julian had the distinct impression they were alone, some smaller part of himself felt eyes on him from all corners of the room.

And indeed, another voice rose from one of those corners, soft and drawling. "Leave him alone. He is not here to be interrogated."

No, just tortured ... Julian thought and let his head bob forward. Every other muscle in his body was permanently tense, however, preparing for the next electrical assault.

"I loathe Humans," his tormentor sneered, and spat on him. Julian didn't even flinch.

"I know," the other replied, clear agreement in his tone. "But we need him alive." Julian listened intently, and heard the other shift slightly, shuffling toward the door he assumed. He tentatively raised his eyes, squinting in the light. His tormentor was retreating into the darkness as well. All Bashir was left with were ominous whispers uttered in the shadows.

"Let him rest, then resume. As I've said, we need him alive, but we have no reason to let him await his friend in comfort. And let him pray that it is the right friend that decides to call upon him ... if I see a wretched Starfleet officer nosing around here, they will regret the decision for a long time."

Julian gasped as he felt cold fingers lift his chin, forcing him to face the blinding light. He closed his eyes, the moisture gathering at the corners not just out of reflex. "Pretty boy. A shame we can't keep him long." His chin was dropped suddenly, and he let it fall forward, his jaw snapping hard against his own chest. He barely felt the painful twinge in the back of his neck. "I don't want his face so pretty. It will attract unwanted attention for now. When you return, see that he will not ... be so appealing."

There was a delighted hiss. "With pleasure."

Sleep refused to comfort him ... even when he was left alone and the hard metallic doors locked somewhere in the shadows. He cried softly and muscles were finally allowed to relax as he slumped in his chair.

Ops had gotten very alert in the last few hours.

Captain Sisko pinched the bridge of his nose and tried not to let panic and worry override his responsibility. Sometimes it was easy to simply turn such bothersome and unproductive thoughts and shift back to duty and moral obligation. At other times it made him wonder just what he was doing here, wearing a captain's uniform and finding himself unable to block out the pestering thoughts that made a grown man cower in a corner and pray for the best.

This was one of those times.

He was about to wonder why he hadn't listened to his father's advice so many years ago; a thought he never got to explore when someone touched his arm. Abruptly, the bustle of reality filled his senses in a torrent of sounds and movements. His mental haven snatched away, he grudgingly switched back to the present. Clearing his mind to prepare for whatever was about to be launched at him, Sisko looked to his side, and smiled. He nodded wordlessly at his Trill officer, blinking eyes heavy with exhaustion. He hadn't rested since the distress call had arrived.

Exhaustion and worry, Jadzia Dax thought. The worry of a father. She brushed the thought away and locked her hands at the small of her back, suddenly all business. "Chief O'Brien's been practically dissecting the sensor tracking all morning, trying to find maybe a clue about where the Yantse Kiang might have ended up ..."

Sisko's eyebrows rose in a silent question, a hint of hope shining forth from his dark eyes. The shake of the Trill's head made it vanish swiftly.

"Nothing," she replied to his unspoken query. She waited for the slight slump in Sisko's shoulders before she added a hopeful, "But!" along with a smile and raised finger. She led him to her console where she smoothly took her seat, dialing up her work with the ease and speed of a virtuoso. Sisko had no doubt she was when it came to science.

And organisation, he thought, peering at her data. It was sorted so meticulously he suspected only she would know how to scroll through the directories and files within the short amount of time calculated for the purpose. Indeed, she went through them with remarkable speed. "What I've done is actually quite simple, so there is a wide margin for error," she warned him.

He glanced at her with a fatherly smile -- he had many smiles, and Dax could not recall the last time Benjamin had used that one on him ... and her -- and said, "It's already more than what we have."

She nodded, swiveling her chair back to her console. "I'm not even sure if it's pointing us in the right direction ..." she waved at the information displayed on her console. "A number of unpredictable variables can occur and shift the outcomes ..."

She was babbling. Dax never babbled unless she was deeply worried. He stifled a sigh and hastily motioned for her to continue. Behind him, Major Kira stepped up to them, listening to her friend intently.

"According to this," Dax continued, "The shuttle craft was heading for ---- but we think it might have been severely ... diverted."

Sisko perked up, raising an eyebrow. Major Kira stepped closer, frowning. "To where?" she asked quietly. Dax look over at her and bit her lip.

"For now, everything seems to indicate that his shuttle was diverted to Cardassia."

The ominous silence that followed her words was hardly one of relief.

The blindness had subsided for a blissful moment as someone broke the stream of light. He looked up blearily, only to find someone watching him from the shadows, a faceless tormentor with his hands on his hips. He blinked lazily, shaking his head to dispel the terrible dizziness. Somehow it only increased it, and he longed to reach up and hold his head. But with the cuffs biting into his skin, he was forced to watch motionless as his tormentor shook his head, tsking him disapprovingly. He frowned dazedly, moisture in the corners of his eyes from hours of crying alone, dark circles engraved deeply beneath his eyes.

Something was not right. The form ... the silhouette was not what he had been used to ... the broad shoulders were gone, replaced by a narrow, almost delicate frame. The hair, not slicked back, but bushy. And ... he gasped as the figure stepped forward, folding thin arms across his chest.

It was himself!

"You think you're so damn good don't you?" the mirror Bashir scolded, his features unforgiving. He tried to recall an instance where he had ever adopted such a scornful expression, but the query was lost as his counterpart spoke again. "I mean look at you! All tied up with your own fears, crying like a child ... you never did have much mettle in you, did you Julie?"

Julian averted his eyes, feeling his nose run with incoming tears he barely felt against his hot cheeks. His lips curled downward, his chin crumpling. "Don't call me that," he sobbed.

He was hit across the jaw right before he felt a warm tingle across his cheek. He looked up in surprise at himself, only it wasn't himself anymore ... somehow his counterpart had taken the form of his best friend. That friend had just struck him and was now looking down at him with incensed blue eyes.

"Don't be so childish. You brought it all on yourself, wanting to gloat in your little victory ... didn't you?" When he didn't answer, Elim Garak pinched his chin and forced him to look at him directly. "Didn't you??" he repeated forcefully. "Why else would you want to return? You wanted to transport down there and move among them like a God ..."

Julian struggled in the Cardassian's cool grasp. "I didn't ... I wanted ... I wanted to ..." he choked on his own words, coughing violently and causing Garak to retract his hand in disgust.

"And you expect us to respect you? You don't even respect yourself! Look at you, bawling like a baby, no pride ... where did all that arrogance go, dear Doctor?"

"Huh? Where did it go Julian?" He looked up at Kira Nerys, still sobbing. He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut.

"I don't need this! Go away, please, I didn't do anything wrong!"

"Oh but you did," Diverse voices spoke at the same time, and he shook his head, wanting so desperately to press his palms over his ears. "Nobody will ever find you here Doctor ... because everyone is happy you got captured ... they're ecstatic even ... no-one will ever rescue you Julian, do you know why?"

He looked up, blinking to help the tears out of his eyes. He sniffled and waited in silence, expecting some other voice from his past or present ... some nonsensical character that had no place here ... anywhere, to answer.

But it was the Cardassian interrogator who spoke, closely in his ear from behind. "Because you're not worth their time, Julian Bashir."

Elim Garak struggled with a piece of cloth, gritting his teeth in real frustration. He didn't care that several customers paused at the entrance to study this unusual display of anger from the tailor, nor did he care that his very behavior was causing them to reschedule their visit to his shop. He simply didn't care. He was tired, hungry, and most of all irritated.

He and Julian hadn't parted in exactly the best terms when his young lover had hastily scheduled a visit to Ekara to inspect the result of his medical triumph. For some reason, Julian had decided to leave him just as Garak planned to go away with him on a holosuite vacation. But no. Those plans were pushed aside, thrown away like garbage so that the young prodigy of a doctor could go off and gloat over his skills.

He finally tore through the linen. He stifled an angry cry and pushed the material aside with an annoyed sweep of his hand, then simply stood, breathing harshly. It was one thing to disappoint Elim Garak. It was another to embarrass him.

Though, he would admit it ... he and Dr. Bashir were hardly lovers of long-standing ... their shaky friendship had finally taken a turn for the better when one evening Julian visited him in his quarters.

Do you want it too Elim?

He supposed the young man was still unsure of this abrupt liaison, though for what reason Garak could not fathom. Then too, perhaps, the doctor was still considering their union a purely sexual one. A chance to learn about his lover before allowing himself the luxury of love. If anything, Garak was a patient man. He could wait. He would wait until that time when Julian's feelings rose to match his own. For now, he contented himself to hold his tongue and indulge in more urgent physical needs of intimacy. Needs that were being insultingly ignored for the moment.

He fleetingly considered sending a subspace message to him when Kira entered his shop. He looked up and didn't even bother to assume his usual look of feigned politeness. Oh lovely ... just what the doctor prescribed. He flinched and went about placing the ripped cloth inside the recycler chute. "What can I do for you Major? I'm rather occupied at the moment ..."

"We have a problem, and we need you to solve it," she said simply. She turned toward the exit and added crisply, "Captain Sisko would like to see you in his office. Now." With that she left, not allowing one moment for the tailor to respond. Garak frowned and stuffed the rest of the clothing inside the chute, cursing softly under his breath. Don't ask me if it's a convenient time for me, please!

With a subtle growl, he was out the door.

They would not leave him to rest. Even alone Julian was constantly assaulted by illusions and mirages his mind conjured up, leering images that kept questioning his very soul ... his very existence. He wondered after a while if this was not a trick created by the Order itself ... a means to break down his spirit, to divert his thoughts. In essence, to forbid him any kind of respite.

They had taken the cuffs away a few hours ago, deeming him too weak to even attempt to walk on his own. The pants had been stripped off finally, and the bruises on Julian's handsome face conspired to create shadows of another man entirely. His lower lip was swollen badly, and he could feel sharp pains across his forehead where Gul Dakir had repeatedly hit him earlier. Spitting derogatory words against Humans, their weakness, their lack of strength and spirit.

When Julian had finally blacked out from the assault, Dakir had further abused his body. He supposed it had been out of some sort of dark perverted fantasy, for when he woke blearily, alone and in darkness, agony shot from his backside. When he touched the sensitive puckered skin, his fingers came up bloody. Crying, he huddled on the floor, and longed desperately for freedom. Any sort of freedom, even that of death.

Garak stood in Sisko's office, being subjected to the stares of at least half of the senior staff. He felt vulnerable, suddenly weak in the knees and pale from shock. In his hands he still held the PADD Sisko had given him, on it the demands Gul Koya had made. It read simply and efficiently. The tailor comes, alone, or the Human dies. plus a string of coordinates alien to the others, piercingly familiar to the Cardassian.

"It came in an hour or so ago," Sisko said finally, the only one not watching the Cardassian with scrutinizing eyes. Hands locked behind his back, he gazed thoughtfully at the sparkling stars outside his viewport, and said, "We have reason to believe Mr. Bashir was kidnapped to be used as a pawn ..." He turned, and his eyes were dark and Garak could detect a measure of anger reflected there. He dared not say anything. Not yet. "Mr. Garak, I've allowed you to stay on the station under asylum because it was convenient," he hissed. "Because I'm not a man accustomed to kick someone out when I know that someone will most probably be killed. But when that man's past decides to catch up with him and use my officers as bargaining chips, my patience with that someone wears very thin. This is not a battlefield!" he suddenly bawled, leaning over his desk and staring at Garak evenly. "I refuse to have my crew endangered because you have embittered power-addicts who wants you dead!" He composed himself briskly and tugged at his uniform. "Now I'm assigning you Major Kira to accompany you to--"

"No," Garak said simply, his icy blue eyes still riveted on the Captain. Sisko looked up, an irate twitch lifting his lips suddenly.

"What was that?"

Garak finally looked down at the brisk message on the PADD. "I said no. I go alone, or Dr. Bashir will be killed. I know Koya," he said in a mere whisper. "His kind doesn't like Humans very much, and it won't take much for them to torture your dear doctor until death overcomes him. Allow me to go alone. It's me they want," he said finally, looking up.

Worf huffed. "Sir! I protest, he must not be--"

"You protest too much," Sisko snarled, circling the desk briskly and pausing very closely to the Cardassian. Lowering his voice to a menacing whisper, he said, "You bring him back ... do you understand me Garak? And God forbid if he's dead ... I want him back anyway. Just make sure it doesn't come to that, understood?" he hissed.

Garak nodded mutely, and with a quick glance to the others, he slipped out of the office. Outside, clenching his jaw with the rhythm of his anger, the flare of embarrassment and fear combined mounting inside of him, he suddenly broke the PADD in his hands in half, burning his skin slightly with the electrical sparks that were drawn. Huge, bewildered eyes looked at him, each poised over the emergency alert panels, but all he did was drop the pieces to the floor and walk out of Ops with quiet determination.

Now it was himself again, sitting over the rafters and smirking down at him. Julian saw him through his good eye, dangling his leg over a metallic shaft, his back leaning against a large mast that came up from the ground. "Pretty pathetic aren't you? You know it's not you they want," he said smugly.

Julian just lowered his forehead to the cool ground, and wished the illusion gone. His mirror simply scoffed him and hopped down from his perch, towering over the injured man. "I mean, you're not worth all that much. Just a frail little pawn in a much bigger game. You were always that, weren't you Julie?" he asked, circling the trembling young man languidly. "Never an important enough piece to be spared all the grunt work. Never the one people wanted to reach by hurting his loved ones. No. You were always the one in the middle of it, being used and bounced back and forth from greater authorities, life hanging on a thread and knowing your miserable life doesn't mean anything to those around you. So much so they're willing to kill you. Torture your pretty self until you die. That's how much they care about you. And nobody's coming here my dear, get that out of your skull." His mirror finally crouched in front of him, grinning crookedly. "A pity. The great Doctor Julian Bashir, ending his life alone and miserable. Even your wonderful parents couldn't prevent that from happening, did they? Brilliant doctor," he sneered. "A shame your brilliance didn't see you out of this one my lad." He stood, and swung his foot until it struck Julian across the head. He whimpered, cowering back as he tried to raise himself in a more or less sitting position. He looked up and Dakir gazed back darkly.

"Good to see you're still with us," he gibed. "Perhaps I should test your endurance with full force," he laughed, and he began to unbuckled his uniform. Julian shook his head, kicking his feet as he tried to move away.

His voice husky with exhaustion and hunger, he implored his captor, "Please ... I can't take anymore ... please, I beg you," he sobbed, watching through overflowing tears the Cardassian approaching. The world grew very dark around him. In that moment ... that very moment when Dakir shoved him into the right position, Julian Bashir shut down. Catatonic. Nothing mattered anymore. He was gone.

The compound was as he had last seen it. Foreboding, dark and towering. The lack of windows or ornaments contributed to the prison-like feel of claustrophobia, and Garak shivered again. Zanceth. The walls crumbling around him in that small, now-forgotten cell in the 12th lower level. He remembered it as if it were yesterday, and if he knew Koya as well as he did, he knew that's where they would have most likely kept Dr. Bashir. He swallowed down a nervous flutter and entered the compound. If he played his cards right, he might not have to face the execution Koya surely had in store for him.

The corridors were dark and silent as he walked slowly. He knew if he spoke, his voice would echo for a few seconds. Zanceth had been deliberately architectured that way. To amplify an official's voice, statute ... make him sound and look more foreboding than he really was. Garak knew the tactics. He'd used them himself when he was still the Son of Tain. He sighed ruefully and walked around the familiar labyrinth, knowing the location Julian's captors would most likely be. He entered the personal lift, and closed his eyes. As silent as the air thrumming through the ventilation shafts, the lift brought him down into the depths of Zanceth.

"We have a guest," Koya said, smiling at the darkness. Dakir looked at him questionally and his superior nodded. "The right one," he confirmed.

A look of barely noticeable disappointment crossed Dakir's face. "We let the doctor live?" he asked.

"We will see," Koya replied, leaving the room to greet his guest. Behind him, Dakir wondered if he had time to go another round with the weakened Human. He glanced over his shoulder at the two-way mirror, watching as the Human struggled to reach the bowl of food they'd left for him. He decided that this was more satisfying entertainment for now.

Meanwhile, Koya waited with the patience of a Vulcan, hands locked impassively behind his back as he watched the lift doors open with a silent hiss. Inside, Garak remained still, watching him steadily.

Finally, Koya broke the connection with a wide, lopsided smile. "It's good to see you again Elim," he said, and Garak walked out of the lift without hesitation.

"You'll forgive me if I don't return the pleasantries," the Cardassian spat, and Koya nodded slowly. "Where is the doctor?"

"Here," Koya replied vaguely, turning heel and inviting the Cardassian to follow him. "And he will be given to you before you leave," he stated. With a darkened smile over his shoulder, he added, "Whether as a corpse or a frail, injured Human, that is your choice, and yours alone."

Garak clenched his fists and pushed down an urge to mutilate the Cardassian walking slowly in front of him. "Am I to believe you will let me walk out of here alive?" he whispered harshly, a note of disbelief accenting his words.

"Of course," Koya replied, gesturing him into the room he'd earlier occupied. "This was not a ploy to execute you my friend. You're far too entertaining a prey for that," he murmured, ignoring Garak's murderous glance. "Ah, see for yourself, your ... 'friend' ... is still alive ..." Koya purred, and Garak turned toward the glass.

A myriad of emotions hit him with the intensity of a heat storm. He advanced and forced down the urge to press his palms against the thick glass, watching helplessly as Julian crouched over a bowl of pureed food, forced to eat with his fingers. Like an animal. Garak felt the stinging burn of tears longing to pour from his eyes, but he kept them in check and swirled around. "Whatever you want with me, get it over with." he said with grim determination.

Dakir appeared over his shoulder, inspecting the Cardassian. "He's changed, hasn't he?" he whispered to Koya. His superior nodded.

"For the worse I fear. Such compassion ... it has become a weakness Elim."

"Just tell me what you want," Garak hissed harshly, staring blue murder at Gul Koya.

"Very well. Follow me my dear," Koya purred, and walked out briskly, Garak following with quiet anger. Dakir stayed behind, still watching the doctor as he rolled to the floor, clutching his stomach. Dakir shook his head. Of course, what did the Human expect? Eating gettle slop. Tsk tsk. Humans could be so dim at times.

Garak was led through a series of turns and stretches of corridor before they stopped inside a room similar to the one in which he'd seen the monstrous treatment of his friend. The mirror was dark though, and they stood quietly before Koya spoke. "You remember your old friend, Tain?" he whispered, smiling insidiously.

Garak flinched unknowingly at the name, his fists curling into balls. "The one who had you exiled?" Koya continued, elevating the lights to a dim shine. "Well ... it seems exiling you wasn't enough for some of the Panel members ..." he said, advancing ominously toward the mirror.

"Panel members who were in Seiya's favor, no doubt," Garak sneered,

"Gul Dukat was executed without purpose!" Koya flared suddenly, his face darkened by emotions he'd vowed to keep to himself. "His death was of no concern to the Order ... why go through with it?" he hissed.

"He was a traitor," Garak replied quietly. "The State made the decision, I merely followed orders."

"It's so easy to blame someone of treason ... so easy to point fingers and hang a man on the basis of rumors. Seiya's record was flawle--"

Garak waved his hand, walking away to another corner of the room as he retrieved the voice of his early years as a Gul. "We had twelve counts of treason, Koya. Twelve. That alone was enough for his execution. In addition to that there were several communiqués traced back to his console ... to his own home's computer! revealing encrypted account numbers and weapon serial numbers. He was emptying the Order's financial banks Koya," he stated hotly, turning to aim his intense gaze at the other Cardassian. "He was using his title and priority overrides to transfer credits to the lower first generation districts!"

"To the homeless!" Koya spat back heatedly. "You tortured a man for being honorab--"

"He was conspiring against the Order!" Garak cut in dramatically, walking ominously toward Koya. "We had twelve counts of people who testified under Vow that he was planning to overthrow Tain!"

"And it's a damn shame he never got that fucking blast," Koya hissed harshly. "No, you had to play the hero to him ... you had to deflect it. Another shame you didn't die in the rubble you caused."

"*I* caused??" Garak cried. "What was Dukat doing with a Varon-T disrupter, illegal I might add, inside the compound?? You know weapons are forbidden here ... yet we found at least sixteen types of power cells hidden in his quarters, and five rifles!"

"Well," Koya said, calm and composed as though he'd never lost his temper, "whatever the reason, the panel members felt it was necessary to give a more ... fitting punishment than simple exile. After all," Koya went on, locking his hands behind his back as he paced silently. "You have made a clean living on Terok Nor ... making a moderate profit ... friends, connections ... hardly the life Tain had in store for you when he announced his decision."

"The only reason Tain ever exiled me was because he felt threatened," Garak hissed. "The charges were ridiculous. He only wanted to send me away because I was too close to becoming head of the Order for his comfort."

"Please," Koya scoffed. "About the only thing you were ever too close to was the cocks you sucked for your laughable promotions."

Garak flushed angrily, refusing to lower himself to brute physical violence. He had set himself limits, that time so long ago when his temper had pushed him to backhand his wife ... backhand her so fiercely her neck had twisted the wrong way and killed her instantly. Another shadow in his past that had been covered up with lies and well placed favors. He had sworn that night never to let his temper consume him so violently again ... not without a reason. Unfortunately, Koya was beginning to give him that very reason. "Is there a point to this meaningless conversation?" he managed finally, measuring his breathing. Inwardly, he kept thinking of Julian, all the while remembering Dakir's reputation when it came to Human prisoners.

A look of what Garak could only construe as sadistic pleasure illuminated Koya's features. "Oh yes ... oh yes Elim, there is a point. You see ..." he purred, his hand reaching for the panel beside the thick glass, "... the panel members thought it fitting to ... make you 'completely' disappear. As you know," he went on, the darkness slowly seeped away as spots began to illuminate the inner room, revealing sixteen Cardassians of varying ages, "exile is designed to make a society forget about the subject in question." Garak's face slowly dropped, his eyes widening subtly as they scoured over the people grouped inside. Koya went on calmly, "So the Order made a law. Oh we never implemented until now ... we thought it was unnecessary with the cases we've had in the past. But with you," he grinned, fingering another panel that opened an intercom. "Guards, your positions please ..." he said, and turned to Garak. "'Garak' is a cursed name among our people ... and we'll make sure it's erased permanently," he hissed.

The first energy bolt fired, and Garak jerked slightly, unblinking. "Denoya Garak, surrogate mother, 78, erased," Koya stated, his fingers playing over a PADD with clinical efficiency. A second blast. "Telim Garak, surrogate father, 79, erased." Garak stared, still, shocked though impassive as one by one, every member of his family vanished with a rictus of agony. "Tosal Garak, sister, 38, erased ..." Koya was silent for a moment before he shook his head thoughtfully. "A pity," he murmured. "She was rather attractive ... ah well." Another shot. "Dekal Garak, brother, 35, erased."

Garak stood stock still, immobile from shock and tragedy as before his eyes, horror unfolded. He wanted to scream. He wanted to weep. He wanted to murder. All he could do was stare with disturbingly serene eyes, each shot drawing a simple slight jerk of his shoulders.

Finally they were left but with one, and Garak's lips turned inward as tears finally pearled from his eyes. Innocent eyes stared back ... dark eyes that reflected purity ... integrity ... everything that was not him. He shook his head slowly as he studied those eyes ... eyes that watched the impervious mirror, chin lifted slightly in defiance. Her small body, round but well developed. A dress that he remembered well ... a necklace that he'd bought himself ... and the hair ... her mother's hair ...

... in a flash he was back in his house, screaming at the corpse of his wife, unaware of his deed as he continued his verbal wrath, throwing furniture in his anger. And he remembered those eyes, staring passively from the stairwell ... delicate hand poised over the railing ... tears spilling from eyes that stared without fear. And those piercing words that had shocked him into an almost catatonic state ... words that he'd never forgotten ... "You killed her, daddy ... you killed mommy." He could see himself, sinking to his knees next to Sibel ... his hands hovering helplessly over her cold body, wanting to give back the life he'd unknowingly taken away. He saw himself press his forehead to her heart ... feeling there no beat, sensing no life ... and the shattering scream that he'd let out ...

... the same he was letting out now as the guard unflinchingly shot his daughter. "Krisselia Garak, 21, erased." Koya let the PADD rest on the table, and he looked up with morbid satisfaction. "You've done well Elim. You can take your friend and leave. That's all we wanted to show you."

Garak let his temper consume him. He let the anger, the agony ... years of pain and torture coalesce into a flare of wrath that thrummed deep within his very soul. He himself was erased. His name gone. He was nothing. Slowly, as though watching himself from somewhere else in the room, he turned to Koya, and with blind rage wrapped his hands around the Cardassian's neck ridges, cutting off the screams before they emerged from the mouth that had spilled such filth ... and with deadly calm, he pulled with all his strength until he ripped bloody tendons away from Koya's neck. The Cardassian stared dumboundedly at him before collapsing to the ground in a pool of his own blood. Garak let the flesh drop over the corpse before spitting harshly at Koya. He left the room, and marched determinedly to Bashir's cell.

The rest of the rescue unfolded like a dream. He vaguely remembered pausing at a restroom just before entering Bashir's cell. He recalled washing the blood from his hands, pointedly avoiding his reflection as he watched the dark essence filter away. His tunic was stained however, and he could do nothing for that. Fortunately, Julian had not commented on it. They both had remained silent as Garak wrapped Bashir into a blanket, rubbing warmth into the shuddering body with nothing more than efficient strokes. Again, Bashir had remained mute. There was something about the Cardassian's behavior that didn't call for comment.

Yet finally, as they sat in the runabout, already en route and leaving Cardassian space, Julian glanced at his friend. His savior.

"You haven't said a word since we left," he murmured from his seat, shivering inside the blanket. His face was swollen, bruises shadowing most of his skin. He could barely speak with the distended lip which Dakir had hit repeatedly. The same Dakir that lay dead in the interrogation chamber, skull pierced with a hook from the rafters as he swung idly in midair. Garak had taken care to usher Julian out of the room, of course.

"There is nothing to say," Garak replied calmly, concentrating on the control panel. He was still angry, but the release that had come from disposing of the sadistic brothers had helped somewhat.

"What happened back there?" Julian asked hoarsely.

"Nothing," Garak growled impatiently. "Nothing happened. And nothing remains," he murmured under his breath, his eyes fixed on the panel. Julian nodded, not bothering to pursue the subject. He was tired. Exhausted even. All he wanted was to curl into his covers and sleep. Peacefully. He shivered again, and he could almost feel his mirror's smirk staring at his back.

Still, a part of him refused to abandon the questioning. Garak was not acting normally. Whatever normal was for the Cardassian. He had always trusted his instincts. Tightening the blanket around him, he glanced at his friend. "You've been really quiet ever since we left Cardassia," he remarked, drawing a glance from the Cardassian.

"What is it to you?" he sneered, slapping the controls and retiring into the back compartment. Bashir frowned and went after him.

"Garak! Talk to me, what's wrong? What did they want with you? I was so worried," he whispered. "I knew it's you they wanted ... I ... I thought they wanted to kill you ..."

"Oh no. They couldn't be so generous," Garak whispered, staring out the small porthole. "Doctor, I know you've been through a lot," he said after a moment. "And perhaps it would be preferable for you to sleep until we arrive. I ... I would like to be alone."

Julian stared wordlessly at his friend ... his lover ... he had taken him into his arms back at Zanceth and carried him out without a word of joy ... without a smile. He bowed his head and walked past him, disappearing into his small room. He curled into the bunk, and shivered beneath his blankets, wondering what they'd done to Garak for the Cardassian to be so withdrawn.

Garak had no answer for him. All he did was stare out the glass, barely aware when six hours later the wormhole flared before him.

It had been a week since their return to the station, and Julian's face starting to return to its previous appearance. His counseling sessions had been seldom, mostly due to his own modest background in psychology and his own acute ability for 'bouncing back'. Actually, it was Garak he was worried about. Ever since their return, they hadn't spoken at all about the incident. With his own moderate knowledge of Garak's temper, he hadn't dared try to impose anything on the Cardassian before Garak was ready.

But one afternoon, as Julian retired to his quarters for the night, he found a communiqué from his friend waiting for him. A brief glance at the time index informed him the Cardassian had just sent it. Curious and feeling a mild sense of trepidation, Julian sat at his console and read the brief message.

Julian,

I know I haven't been very communicative lately, but know that I have my own reasons which, I fear, have conspired to form a decision which was not easy. This is simply to let you know that I love you ... I know we've never talked about our true feelings for one another, and the reason I never brought it up was because I had no wish to frighten you, or scare you away. But I've always loved you very dearly Julian, and I find myself at a point where the possibility of you loving me back no longer matters. Nothing matters in fact. But I felt the need to tell you.

Take care of yourself my love.

Elim.

Julian stared hard at the words, feeling the moisture at the corner of his eyes swell into tears. But something nagged at him. Something that ...

Julian gasped, and rushed out of his quarters, crying harder. He tapped his insignia, his voice broken and hysterical as he called the Infirmary.

Garak swam in comfortable darkness. He'd turned off all the lights in his quarters, had stripped slowly and deliberately before slipping into his bed, tucking the covers beneath his arms which rested on his chest. He was staring at the ceiling, his eyes blank and unseeing as he waited for the inevitable.

Thus he barely heard the door open, and did not register the desperate voice that called to him. Only when he felt warm hands on his shoulders, shaking him, did he focus on his friend. He smiled weakly. "Julian ..."

The young man bit his lip, glancing at the night table where an empty hypospray lay. "Dammit Elim!" he cried. "What did you take? Why did you do this??" he sobbed, taking the hypospray with a trembling hand. He brought the cartridge to his nose, detecting the distinct scent of hemlock. "GARAK!" he cried, throwing the cartridge to the floor and pressing his hands over the Cardassian's face. "Why?" he wept.

"Leave me ..." Garak rasped.

"Like hell I will ..." Julian muttered, pressing a kiss to the Cardassian's lips. "Elim ... Elim I love you too ... please ... tell me it means something to you ... don't turn me away ..." he said desperately, his hands curling over the Cardassian's neck ridges, stroking him softly. "Elim ..."

Garak stared blankly at the ceiling, as though in thought. After a moment, he whispered. "I'm erased Julian ... I mean nothing. At least ... at least before I had a chance ... I had something to return to ... now I have nothing ..."

"You have me!" Julian retorted, resting his head on Garak's chest. "Me Elim. You have me, and I promise I'll never go away. Don't turn away now ..."

"I'm sorry," Garak whispered.

"Damn you!" Julian cried angrily. "That's it? You tell me you love me, then you leave me? You have no right, damn you!" he cried, tears blurring his vision. "Are you listening to me? Stay with me Elim!"

He was barely conscious of the medical staff as they pried him away from Garak, barely aware as they began working on the Cardassian before his grief-stricken eyes.

The infirmary was quiet. Dark and empty. Only one bed was occupied, and Julian approached it with hesitation. His eyes were dark and tired, but his resolve was firm. He'd caught his lover in time. Now he had to make sure there wouldn't be any other times.

"Elim?" he said softly, drawing the Cardassian's shadowed glance. "How are you feeling?"

"How do you think I feel?" Garak hissed menacingly. "You had no right to do that. It was my choice, my decision. You should have let me die," he muttered, looking away.

Julian looked at him helplessly. "Look at me Elim ... LOOK at me," he said forcefully when Garak ignored him. When he got the attention he wanted, he lowered his voice. "You wanted me to stand by while you slipped away from me ... you wanted me to read that message and go about my life as though nothing had happened. Well I'm sorry Elim, but I care for you ... I LOVE you ... I wasn't about to let you die alone in your quarters. WHEN it's your time ... when we'll be old and gray and 100 + years old, then I'll allow you to die," he smiled, his hand squeezing Garak's shoulder. "In my arms, where you belong."

The Cardassian shrugged him off. "Please. If you think the prospect of living with you and wallowing in love and compassion is enough ..."

"It IS enough ... it has to be ..." Julian interrupted.

"Well not for me!" the Cardassian cried, turning abruptly and showing Julian the tears pearling over Garak's ashen cheeks. "I lost everything Julian ... I lost my family, my daughter ... and I saw all of them Julian," he cried, a note of hysteria in his voice. "Their eyes, their agony ... I saw all of them die in front of me. They took everything from me and chose for me to live with that. Well I can't Julian ... as much as I love you, as much as I value your love ... it's not enough for me to go on." He looked away, his darkened blue eyes staring off distantly.

Julian watched him sadly, then climbed the bed next to his lover, cuddling against the Cardassian before resting his cheek on Garak's cool chest. "Then I'll give you reason to live Elim," he whispered. "We'll live one day at a time ..."

Garak chose not to acknowledge Julian's warmth, and instead shook his head lightly. "You can't watch me forever," he murmured.

"But I can try," Julian added, wrapping his arms tightly around the Cardassian's body, hoping to give the Cardassian a little bit of his own warmth. Not much, just enough to make him realize he wasn't alone. After a moment, Garak's arm circled Julian's shoulder loosely, and his cerulean eyes glimmered with just a thread of life.

The End