He bit on his lips, looking around for something he could find of use to help his friend. Garak was unresponsive, head slumped to the side. He detected a silver line of saliva at the corner of his mouth, a telltale sign that the Cardassian was out cold. Either drugged, or unconscious by some other means. He sat at his side, helping Garak's head up before he scooted closer, laying it against his thigh. He used a corner of the sheets to wipe his mouth, then slowly he began stroking the tailor's hair back, smoothing them into its style. He felt useless without his equipment, frightened and alone, desperate for Garak to wake up and reassure him that he was all right. He took his pulse, making sure it was strong and healthy, then went about waiting.

Into the second hour, the tailor finally answered Julian's beckons, which had become soft and nearly hopeless. His first sign of consciousness was movement; Garak's head tossed gently against Julian's thigh. The young man realized shortly thereafter that his entire leg had become numb at the lack of circulation. He didn't care, however, and began actively calling the Cardassian's name. "Garak, wake up ... please, it's me, you're safe!" His voice was louder to his ears than he expected. He hadn't realized how silent the room had become within the first hour.

"Hmnn ..." A dilated pupil peeked under a heavy eyelid. Then more movement, and a smack of lips. "... doctor?" Confusion, disorientation, a dry mouth - Julian knew instantly without his devices that Garak had been hit with an energy weapon. He leaned down and attempted to guide the tailor's head so that he would see Julian's face upon opening his eyes.

"Yes, it's me. Please, open your eyes - I know you're hurting now ... I know you're disoriented, but we must talk." The urgency in his voice must have done the desired effect, for Garak tried harder to fight his way to consciousness. His eyes opened fully for a moment before he blinked several times, then he attempted to stand up. A valiant effort, if not premature, for he clutched his head and nearly fell back against the headboard. Julian's quicker reflexes circumvented that mishap, and managed with little difficulty to lie the Cardassian down on the plush pillows. Garak opened his eyes anew, and turned his head to see his friend. Unexpectedly, he smiled.

"Is this a dream?" White linens, a comfortably warm breeze, thick sheets, and a beautiful doctor at his bedside. Garak's smile turned dazed. "Is this where you remove your clothes and make passionate love to me?" Instead of the answering smile and flirtatious comment he expected, Garak watched the doctor frown, blush, and look away. So this was reality. Garak cleared his throat. "I apologize - I was caught in the moment."

"Well get yourself uncaught - we're in a bad situation right now." Despite his mild vexation over Garak's inappropriate comment, Julian glanced at the tailor and nodded toward him with half-resignation. "Are you all right?"

"As soon as the two tractor beams trying to split my head two-ways are gone, I'll be in better shape, I assure you." He held his ridged forehead, closing his eyes. "As if the stun had not been enough to subdue me ..." he murmured, thinking over the last moment of consciousness when Ilanos bore down with his fist. He sighed, then let his hand fall loosely at his side. He turned to look at his friend. The sunlight had hit his eye beforehand, and he had seen Bashir only as a faint silhouette. Now that Julian was closer and leaning down, Garak frowned deeply and reached up with his hand. At first, the young man dismissed the gesture as just another foolish attempt to romanticize the moment, but all at once he knew where Garak's prying fingers were headed for. He recoiled, and stood up.

"What has that scrawny beast done to you?" the Cardassian asked simply, letting his now useless hand drop onto his chest.

"He ... hit me. It's nothing." It seemed to be a big something to Garak, who was displaying more emotion on his face than he had seen in the entire four years of their friendship. Julian shook his head, again trying to downplay the situation. "Look, Garak, I know you're mad - but getting into fights isn't the answer right now. Look at you - lying there like an injured kitten. What do you think he'll do to you next time you try something? We've got to find another way out of here. I know you tried ..." Julian's voice was suddenly warm and affectionate. "I know ... you tried your best. But we'll need more than a few biting comments and balled fists to get ourselves out of this. Believe me."

Garak sighed once more, and turned his head away. Bashir frowned softly, and regained his place by him on the bed. "What?" he asked gently. "What is it?" Suddenly, the Cardassian's shoulders were shaking, and he was shocked to think he was actually crying. He placed his hand on his shoulder, squeezing comfortingly. "It's okay, Garak, we'll get out of this." Garak's head turned, and Bashir shied away immediately. His friend wasn't crying. He was laughing.

"Oh Doctor - more than a few biting comments and balled fists?" The laughter was abruptly gone, and what was left in Garak's eyes was azure fury. "What do you think you'll do, with your pathetic skills as a spy and field officer? Hm?" Julian stood up, again recoiling. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. His face contorted with hurt as Garak continued his scolding, "You think you can do better than I? You think you have everything figured out? How dare you show yourself so high and mighty? How DARE you?" he cried, and Garak was half-sitting-up now, his voice shaking with rage. Julian knocked into a column as he backed away. "There there, Garak, you tried your best. Now let me take care of things? Just because that beast hasn't beaten you into submission yet, you think you have an 'advantage' over me?" It was too much. Julian blubbered something about how it was a mistake to come here, and fled the room running, shoving the doors open on the way. Garak cried after him relentlessly, his voice echoing against the halls beyond his room. "That's it! Leave! Go curl up in his arms and cry about how your life is absolute MISERY!" The door slammed once against its hinges with the momentum of Julian's shove, and Garak leaned back, smiling with smug satisfaction.

It hurt. It hurt even to smile now. But Garak had not missed the surveillance cameras hidden here and there. One in the statue in the corner, another embedded in the wall on the ceiling, covered by a light fixture. He suspected they were there for the lord's sadistic pleasure - to record whatever obscenities he did to his slaves in these chambers. But he did not make the mistake to assume the lord was not watching them now. He would not make a second blunder so soon after the first. He had promised escape to the young man whose feelings he had just stung. Stung feelings that could be repaired once they were safe. Let the lord think they were sparring. Let the lord think Julian would seek comfort in his gracious attentions. Julian would find the situation hopeless now that Garak was not on his side. He was certain the lord would take advantage of this. This made the smile on his lips a little easier to bear as he snuggled into the covers and drew them up to his chin. Despite the bright sunlight, the breeze had become chilly.

Julian came to an abrupt halt in the dining hall. He was confused, he didn't know where to go. Belatedly, he realized he could put this to good use and find the exit. Unfortunately for him, Lord Ilanos emerged from an adjacent room and greeted him with a warm smile. The lord had changed into a more comfortable suit, made of silken borders and crimson fabrics. He approached Julian, and elevated the shamed doctor's chin with a single finger. Ilanos inspected the dejected expression on his face, and discovered tears in the corner of his eyes. "Have a little spat?" he queried smoothly, and smiled when Julian shoved his face away. "I was hoping you'd leave earlier - and I equally hope you've had the opportunity to tell your friend everything that was heavying your tender heart, for you will not have such an occasion for a long time. I've decided to begin your training immediately. The Cardassian will have to wait later for his. Although I've enlisted a favor from a man of my acquaintance to ... break him in for me in the meantime," he grinned with satisfaction. When Julian kept his eyes away, Ilanos leaned in and whispered, "I'll make you love it here, you'll see. I'll even give you the opportunity to leave in a year - see if you'll take it. I doubt you will." He leaned back, and all at once his tone turned clinical. "Your hair will be allowed to grow, and in no way will you be permitted to cut it. Accessories to groom yourself on 'personal time' will be given to you. The room you were given was temporary. Your new housing arrangements will be in my chambers, leashed to the headboard with cuffs on your wrists and ankles. Grevld will give you an enema every other day, because of course I want that pert little ass of yours always inviting and ready for my attentions. Clothes will become obsolete for you. You will strut around in the nude, collared at all times. The leash will only be used for my personal pleasure. You will submit to those I say you must submit to. You will be an ass, Precious. An ass to be fucked and played with until your purpose has been served. All traces of the identity you knew will be stripped away and forgotten. Your new designation will be slave, slut, or precious. You belong to me, your ass belongs to me, and your body belongs to me, is that understood?"

Throughout Ilanos' account, Julian's face had dropped steadily into a horrified rictus of disgust. By the time he was through, the young man was shaking his head continuously, until Ilanos broke into a smarmy grin and said, "Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes. After training is over, you'll see that disobedience will not be tolerated, and will be met with the worst of punishments, slave. GREVLD!" he suddenly shouted, causing Julian to wince. Bashir figured that the Bolian was never too far away from her Master, since she appeared almost immediately at the entrance. She cast a weary look at the young doctor, then at the Lord.

"Yes, Sir?"

"Bring this one to the stables. I feel like taking a ... ride today."

Bashir was confused. What's more, Grevld looked horrified. No ... not horrified, exactly - more like startled. She said, "He be not ready, Sir - he just here this morning! Stables not for delicate skin now."

Ilanos acquired a deliberately thoughtful expression. "Why Grevld ... is that you disobeying me? Is that you expressing hesitance at an order I have already issued and commanded of you? Grevld, you are a fine house slave - don't make me regret this compliment." To her credit, the Bolian did hesitate. But not for long. She ambled toward Julian and took his arm with a gentle squeeze and began leading him toward the exit. This was it. She was an old woman. He could escape. He'd take his chance. When he was outside, he prepared to bolt. Grevld stopped his attempt with a shake of her head and a negative sound. "There be sensor lasers round Lord's house. Burn you to a crisp getting too close. Don't be foolish." She released his arm in show of good faith. Julian didn't care. Getting burned was better than having his freedom taken away. He did not give a warning, simply began running toward the closest available clearing. He could detect foliage in the background - a forest possibly, an easy camouflage.

"Foolish Pretty! Don't! You be burn ..." Grevld stood waving her arms aimlessly as she continued to shout, trying to pick her words between gasps. "Burn ... gone, Pretty! You be gone!"

He wasn't listening. He was drunk on his own ecstasy. He was running! He was making it! He stopped dead in his track. His hearing - acute and distinctly sensitive ever since the ... transformation at a young age - picked up an unusual sound. It was shrill ... a buzz - as though he were very close to a hornet's nest. He wanted to dismiss it as such - or perhaps just the sounds of summer. There were high blades of grass ahead - perfect for the sort of insect that produced such sounds. But Grevld warning echoed in his mind, and he took a careful step forward. The buzzing intensified until it was screaming in his ear. He felt the hair all over his body raise as though with a mind of their own. He recoiled, then grabbed a piece of rock at his feet. With a sharp swing, he threw it ahead, intending for it to reach the high grass. It never did. Midway, it stopped, encased in a bright crimson halo before it shook, broke in pieces, and vaporized in midair. He backed up. He broke into tears as he sank to his knees. There was no way he'd get out of this. Not in this manner. Garak was no longer someone he could trust. Ilanos intended him to be a body slave, submitting to sexual acts he knew he'd never heard of before - stables? His sobs grew erratic. He was alone. He wanted to die. For one moment, he contemplated hurling himself into the force field. Then it occurred to him, as he lay there on the ground, suddenly a befuddled look on his face. He sat up gingerly; Ekayans did not believe in technology - a fact which had convinced Bashir that Ilanos would possess no advancements in communications. But if he possessed a force field like this ... perhaps he had managed to acquired some communication array - a satellite ... while crude, it could be configured to send a message to DS9. It would take months to reach its destination, perhaps years ... yet, it was still better than giving up now. He had been here barely a day.

What was a year with this so-called Lord? Bashir had survived worst. Yes, he was convinced he had suffered worst than submitting to a few crude sexual acts. It was only his body. Another thing to sacrifice in the line of duty when the situation became critical. It was not his soul, his mind. He rose smoothly from the ground, uncaring that most of his limbs were raw and bleeding from small cuts he'd gotten in his fall. With a purposeful stride, he returned toward Grevld - and as he neared her position, he detected the Bolian's features, which were now relaxed and relieved he had not burned and gone at the borders of Ilanos' property. Yes, he could say he was also relieved. He wanted to live after all.

"Stop this."

Garak looked up, all innocence. "Whatever do you mean?"

Ilanos narrowed his eyes and folded his arms. "I have eyes everywhere. I have seen you and how you treat your so-called 'friend'. Such behavior will not be tolerated in this House."

Garak turned away, resuming the meticulous washing of his hands and face. While he resented and despised this place more than he did the cold, unfriendly atmosphere that Deep Space Nine offered, his ease and familiarity with which he used the small lavatory was quite impressive, considering. Standing in the doorway, Ilanos looked like some bitter roomate who could not wait until his friend was done with his morning toilette to discuss some nonsensical matter. This is what Ilanos admired and wanted in the Cardassian. A challenge. By mere appearance, the tailor was imposing and authoritive. Ilanos yearned to change that. Mold this beast into a submissive little toy that he could use and abuse on a whim. It would take a while, though, yet he had no qualms in waiting.

"I don't know what you mean," Garak replied smoothly, patting his face with a towel. When he was finished, he hung it neatly on the rack, then turned toward his 'master'. "In fact, I could care less what you, or the likes of your staff, thinks about my relationship with Doctor Bashir. You bought the two of us ... well, you will simply have to deal with everything else that came with us."

Ilanos narrowed his eyes once more, verdant brilliance piercing into the Cardassian's darkened blue. After a moment of consideration, he pursed his lips. "You are lovers, yes?"

Garak grimaced. "Please. If you think I would let that creature share my bed ..." he trailed off, pushing past the scrawny Lord as he left. A faint growl escaped Ilanos' lips before he swiveled round and grasped the tailor's arm with a talon grip. The Cardassian clenched all muscles, turning his head to face his assailant.

"You are lying," Ilanos said after a moment, with a tone that was quite natural and smooth. "He is more to you than a simple Human companion. And I will prove it." With a sadistic little smile, he let go of Garak's arm, and ambled calmly out of his chamber, leaving a lone, and most certainly furious Cardassian.

Think, think, think. He intends to prove it. What does he know? And what does he intend to prove exactly? Garak stopped staring at the door as though it might reveal some answers, and began pacing the alley between his bed and window. He paused beside the nightstand, then searched briefly through its drawers. Ilanos was no fool, but you never know if one clumsy slave might leave something valuable behind. A butter knife. Some string. Anything would be useful right now.

He slammed the last drawer shut. Nothing. Turning on his heel, he began sucking the tip of his index finger in a decisevely nervous gesture, resuming his pacing. It had been ages since Garak had felt such anxiety, and he suddenly wrenched his hand away from his mouth. It would do no good to go back to that unattractive habit.

The bathroom had yielded no items either, as Garak had been interrupted by his 'host' during his search of the small washroom. He had been uncaring if Ilanos was watching his every move. If he could have put his hand on any thing that might have proven useful, the fact Ilanos knew or not would have no longer mattered. Garak was not in the prime of his years, but he was still fast. Still had all of his earlier stealth.

He sighed and exited the lavatory. He was kneading his hands when two men entered his chamber. He frowned only briefly before they advanced on him, posing the threat of shock with their pain sticks as they escorted him out.

Klingons. Why did it have to be Klingons?

Julian turned to Garak, doe eyes positively large and helpless. Garak remained fixed on some obscure point in front of him, refusing to meet the young man's confused gaze.

"Garak, please talk to me ... why are you so angry at me?" Bashir's voice broke slightly as he added, "Is it because I couldn't get us out of it? That I couldn't save you?"

Father. That's Father talking to you. No, better, that's Worf. Worf, Tain ... Major Kira. They're deriding you. Come now Elim, don't break now.

Garak's eyes unwavered as he spoke stiffly, "Doctor, I thought we had made it clear that I have nothing but contempt for you at this moment. Perhaps I should reiterate this statement so that you may leave me alone with these incessantly childish pleas of yours?"

Hurt, Julian turned toward what Garak was so fixatedly staring at, and tried not to fall apart into a million pieces. He felt it though. He tried to concentrate on what was happening in front of them.

They were standing on a carpeted circle - rich crimson embroided with gold linings. Beyond the silver outline was a square royal blue carpet, extending all the way to the four corners of the room. Directly in front of them, the floor rose into a large platform where Ilanos was now, seated on an intricate chair. On his side, Grevld was holding a plate of assorted fruits and beverages for his easy access. Behind him, two Klingon guards. Ilanos smirked from his seat, drapped with legs swung over one of the armrest in a comfortable position.

And oh yes, of course, they were nude.

Julian couldn't help but notice how much ease Garak seemed to have with his nudity. Standing there with arms straight at his sides, chin lifted slightly and eyes fixed on not a predator, but a prey. Bashir wished he displayed such ease and command. His body was hunched with shame, and he couldn't stop kneading his hands nervously, eyes cast to the floor, the walls, the ceiling - anywhere but Ilanos.

Finally the Lord clapped once, and adjusted himself in his chair. "Gentlemen, I'm glad to hear you did not put up such a fight into coming here. Could it be you actually ... enjoy my company?" Julian grimaced, Garak only kept staring. After a moment, Ilanos was focusing only on the young man, ignoring the predatory Cardassian. He leaned in, smiling smoothly. "I have a special treat for you, young man. I hope you'll appreciate me for this gift." Ilanos turned to Garak. "A lot can be said in body language. In gestures. In love. A caress. Even a soft kiss on the cheek. I told you, Cardassian, that I would prove it. My request today is very simply this;" Ilanos leaned back, looking like the proverbial cat who had gotten the cream. "I want you, my dear Cardassian, to make love to this delicious young man for my entertainement. In any way you like. The young man will have to submit to it, you see, or he will die. You, my reptilian friend, will have to obey, or he will die. And I assure you, I have no qualms about it whatsoever."

He leaned sideways and picked a ripe peach, smoothing it over his chest as he watched Garak and Bashir's reactions. The Cardassian was unreadable, as usual. Bashir looked as though someone had just knocked him over with a hammer. He glanced twice at Garak before he took a step forward, murmuring "please" between his lips. Ilanos waved him back, and as an added incentive, the Klingons touched their daggers at their waist.

Garak looked peaceful ... but a whirlwind of emotions were brewing inside his mind. No matter how brutal or nonchalant he would make himself appear while making love to Julian, he knew the consequences and his own feelings would interject and interfere with his indifference. No, Ilanos was right indeed. He could prove it. He was about to witness the concrete evidence right now. Once Garak touched Bashir, he knew the young man would never allow him in his bed, ever. Such a traumatic experience would distance him completely. Ilanos was winning after all. And Garak would not be able to control his own emotions. Finally, to be able to touch that smooth, golden skin. To penetrate the most intimate places of Bashir's life. To be so closely connected, and yet ... Garak sadly knew what would result. But to watch him die? To let Ilanos kill him mercilessly like he knew he could for the simple reason he would not abuse the young man's innocence like this? No, Garak would not let that happen. It was a foolish reason. Bashir would endure it and Garak would take it as the only opportunity he would ever have.

He approached him.

Julian turned abruptly toward him, horror in his face. Sex? In front of an audience? With Garak? The doctor stepped back, shaking his head, not even considering the fact his life was on the line. "Garak, please, don't do this - I'm sure there's another way." He turned quickly toward Ilanos. "Perhaps you wish for me to ... service you instead? Privately? I ... could ..." He stammered uselessly, Garak watching, helpless to alleviate his young friend's fears.

My dear boy - is impersonal sex with such a vile character as Ilanos a better prospect than my making love to you? Despite the circumstances?

Garak was in hand's reach to Julian now, and he reached out to take his arm. The young man yelped, and struggled briefly before the Cardassian pulled him to his chest. He pressed the back of his head with one hand, and touched the nape of his neck with considerable care. He leaned down and whispered in his ear, "A Nooar O, Julian. I would never hurt you."

And it was at that precise moment that their world suddenly swirled with slashes of yellow and sparkle.

End of Chapter Three