Saved! They were saved! Intoxicating relief washed over Bashir as he turned toward his saviors, uncaring of his exposed state. He promptly gasped and swiveled into his prior position, cloaking himself as a deep crimson blush spread over his features. Garak, who had let go of Bashir when the young man had enthusiastically moved, glanced frontward.

Not Sisko. Not Dax. Not even Worf, whom at this point Garak would have welcomed with one of his signature fallacious smiles. No, it had to be a more insidious character than all of them combined.

"Well well. When they said we'd get a reward, was this what they had in mind I wonder?"

Dukat.

Garak clenched his fists and swiveled forward to face his nemesis. After a moment, he quickly composed himself, all traces of his prior ire erased. "Dukat! Well I must say, under the circumstances, seeing you is not as revolting as I had thought it would be."

The Gul, leaning over a console as he watched the duo with penetrating eyes, chuckled raucously and waved dismissvely. "Come now Elim. I thought you'd be positively thrilled to see me, under the circumstances." He trailed his piercing gaze over their naked forms. "In fact, I'd say I came just in time. Or was I too late? I don't hear any panting breaths or see sweat-slicked flesh so I'm only assuming, mind you."

Bashir glanced at Garak. He thought he'd heard the tailor purr. No, not exactly purr. Rumble.

He shivered slightly and, realising he was still nude, faced Dukat and tried his best to look commanding under the tenuous situation. "Gul Dukat, we're very relieved you ... rescued us, but would you mind terribly if you'd give us something to wear? Even a sheet would be welcome right now."

The Cardassian official looked as though the problem of their nakedness had just come to his attention. "Oh, Doctor Bashir, where are my manners indeed? Of course I'll provide you with something to wear. Though ..." He smiled - a distinctly feline smirk, "you must understand, I did not anticipate this ... unfortunate scenario. You'll have to bear this state of undress for a moment more while we move you to your room. I'll clear the corridor leading to your temporary quarters, of course, though you'll have to reach them like this." With another smug smile, he turned and waved toward the exit of the transporter room.

Garak answered the smile with one of his own. "My dear Gul Dukat - surely you've enough power for another transport? If you don't mind, we'll wait patiently on this dais while you beam us to wherever you intend to store us."

"Of course," Dukat answered smoothly. "How ... so very clumsy of me to not have considered this brilliant course of action." He moved bitterly to the console and fingered it expertly. "I suppose now we all know why you were such the Obsidian agent, hmm?"

Garak's answer was drowned off by the whirr of the transporter whisking them to their quarters.

"Of course he was not about to clear the corridor, who do you think he is? A saint? Your savior? Do not forget who he is, Doctor. He had, and still does in fact, every intention to humiliate us in front of his crew. Just because he did your Captain a favor by finding us does not mean he won't use this opportunity to rile you, or me. I suggest keeping a low profile while we return to Deep Space Nine."

Julian was facing away from Garak as the Cardassian spat his commentary about Gul Dukat, trying on a shirt that would more or less fit him without falling to his waist. Damn Cardassian necklines. He sighed when Garak was finished, and faced him. "Are my ears deceiving me? Are you actually speaking to me now? Just a few moments ago you were quite certain you had nothing but contempt for me."

The tailor rolled his eyes as he finished closing the clasps on his trousers. "Doctor, if you didn't know that that was a mere facade, you have no trust indeed in my ... abilities." He sighed with frustration and went to sit by the viewport. "Ilanos was a fool. The moment he knew you and I were friends, he would have used it to control us. In fact, I fear he was acquiring that very power in the end. As repulsed as I am to admit this, Dukat rescued us just in time."

"Did he ever. Gods. Garak, I'm sorry but ..." Bashir shook his head.

"Oh yes indeed," interrupted his companion with bitter curtness. "I'm quite sure that would have been an ordeal your frail Human spirit would have never come to terms with. If you'll excuse me Doctor - it's been a long time since I've been on a Cardassian ship, and I have every intention to sample their mess hall until I'm ready to burst." Without a single word more, Garak stormed out of the quarters, displaying in his haste uncharacteristic emotions. Bashir watched him with wide-eyed bewilderment before he decided to follow him.

"Doctor ... I'm so glad to have been able to catch you alone. We have quite a bit to talk about, you and I."

Bashir stood in the entrance, frowning. Gul Dukat smiled, a bottle of wine in one hand, and a data PADD in the other. He glanced sideways. "On my way here, I caught sight of your friend. I do hope everything is all right between the two of you. He seemed quite upset. May I come in?"

Bashir opened his mouth.

"Thank you," Dukat said without missing a beat, forcing the doctor back into his quarters.

"There he is. The Gallant Torturer. Reduced to a nothing. Look at him. It is so pathetic, I almost feel sorry for him."

Mashka glanced at the object of her companion's interest. She shrugged, evidently uncaring. "Give him peace for his meal at least. I assume Terok Nor has nothing but a few Kardasi foods available nowadays." She resumed her own meal, sighing.

Goral smirked, still watching the tailor. "I heard he forced a man to confess his crimes simply by staring at him for four hours."

"Oh, simply four hours? He must have been bored out of his mind." Mashka took a sip of her kanar, directing her gaze at Garak once more.

Her companion shook his head. "No, he was not like that. He truly believed in the teachings of the Order. He was a true interrogator. My father worked with him on his last assignement. He spoke quite often of him."

Mashka smirked. "Perhaps you should go over there and introduce yourself. He will no doubt remember the name if your father left any sort of impression."

Goral thought this was a good idea, and before he could stop himself, he found himself near Garak's table, asking if he could join him.

If Garak was cautious, he did not show it. He smiled pleasantly and waved at the empty seat in front of him. "Why of course, enhance this dreary solitary meal, dear boy." Goral pulled a chair with a small nod. He had waited until Mashka had finished her own meal before approaching Garak, so now they were alone in the mess hall.

"I am Glinn Suk Goral. My ... father knew you," he said bluntly, hoping the tailor would recognize the name without polite preamble.

"Goral ... ah yes," Garak said between bites, unwavering in his pleasantness. Goral did not notice how sharper the older Cardassian's eyes had gotten, nor did he suspect the alarms that went off inside his head. He is here for revenge. He knows. Why else would he approach me? For friendly banter? Dukat will do nothing to stop him. He probably even encouraged him. Garak smiled. "Yes, I knew your father. He was a good man."

Goral nodded, a bit sadly. "Yes, he was. It was a shame when he died. Mother was never the same since. But he died still in service for the State, and I am proud of him for that." He paused. "I apologize if I interrupted your meal, Sir Garak, it's just that my father has always spoken highly of you, and I had to meet you."

Garak cocked his head. "Has he." He leaned in, watching the young man's face attentively. "Tell me Suk, how did your father die? Under the circumstances at the time, I was not able to attend his Passing Ceremony."

"He passed away in his sleep." Goral seemed embarassed by the truth. "A most ... unremarkable death, but his heart was never really strong. Mother found him in the morning, peacefully dead."

There was a long moment before Garak leaned back. "How sad. During our last assignement, I remember him inviting me to your humble House for dinner. I always regretted not accepting it." Although I did take him up on his offer ... his son is not lying at least. I can relax.

"I never ... knew what my father was doing with you. I mean, the Order was never really keen on divulging that sort of information. But things are different today, and I was hoping you could tell me why my father was involved with the Order at all. After all, the Military and the Order at the time weren't exactly the best of friends." Goral looked directly into Garak's eyes. "So I was hoping you'd tell me what my father was up to before he died."

Garak only smiled as he patted the corners of his mouth with his napkin.

"Look, these past few weeks have been ... an ordeal, I don't really feel up for chatting." Bashir frowned as Dukat sat comfortably on the couch, having produced two glasses from the replicator. He uncorked the wine and began pouring, that infuriating smile on his lips.

"Of course Doctor, I completely understand your feelings, considering what you and Garak have been through. I'll be discreet, of course, and not ask the details. No, my reasons for visiting are quite mundane. Please, Doctor, indulge me, and have a seat," he offered, directing his open palm on the opposite couch.

Hesitant, Bashir approached the sofa and sat. "I really don't see what you could possible want to know."

Dukat chuckled as he pushed one of the glasses toward Bashir. "I don't want to know anything. Quite the contrary, in fact, I want to share some information I have with you." With his other hand, he slid the PADD next to his glass. "It'll make for a fascinating read," he added slyly.

Bashir looked down suspiciously at both items. "What is it?"

"Some articles. Reports. An assortment of information meticulously collected over the years. It has helped me ... gather some pertinent data on our mutual friend."

Bashir looked up, a bitter look darkening his features. "Since when do you consider Garak your friend?"

"Ah, touché, my dear Doctor. Indeed, Garak has never been much of a friend to me, or my family. But please, while you may try to convince yourself for a long time into the future that what is on that PADD is fabricated, you'll soon realize that none of it can be created. You may even decide to corrolate with Central Command's database for confirmation. But what it comes down to, Doctor, is that your friend is a cold, merciless killer. And that my only purpose here, tonight, is to warn you. I have given my word to Captain Sisko, as New Leader to Cardassia, that I would not harm your precious Mister Garak." Bashir flinched when he saw that all cheer had drained from Dukat's face. "But it is my intention that you bring this information back to Deep Space Nine with you and use it."

"Use it how. So that we may see the wisdom of your words and hand him over to the new Cardassian government? So that you can trial him in public? So that you can do what other ungodly things you can come up with?" Bashir sneered bodly. "I wonder what Major Kira would have to say about this. While she's not too thrilled with Garak, at least he wasn't heading an Occupation. I wonder who'd she believe, in the end."

Dukat pursed his lips tightly. "As I've said," he said calmly, "You can do with this information what you please. My only purpose was to bring it to you. Don't let his charms fool you. He'd stab you in the back as soon as it was convenient for him." Dukat rose, both wine glasses untouched. "I had hoped to have a pleasant, intelligent conversation with you tonight, but I see you can be as stubborn as dear Nerys. A quality I admire, if not find infuriating under the circumstances." Bashir got to his feet as well as Dukat turned to leave his quarters.

"I don't know what kind of history you and Garak have," he said, halting the Cardassian's wake. "But I do know one thing. Both you and he would stoop to many levels, I wager, to get under each other's skin. You proved that. He proved that. Or have you forgotten the time you attempted a siege on us?" Bashir paused, then smiled when Dukat glanced at him sourly. "So whatever little ploys you both concoct, please, leave me out of it. For all I care, you can have a fist fight on the bridge to prove who's stronger. But I don't appreciate being told who I should befriend, and who I shouldn't. I had enough of it from the crew, I don't need it from outsiders. Specially those of your kind." Bashir picked up the PADD, then threw it back to Dukat who caught it swiftly. "Why don't you forward this directly to Sisko. Or to someone you actually believe is naive enough to be a part of this ridiculous squabble."

Dukat sneered, and deposited the PADD on a shelf. "Read it, or don't read it, it doesn't matter. But I'd like to know you have the choice." He shrugged, and spread his palms. "Besides, if you are so wise to my ploys, what harm will it do to read over my fabrication. The least you could do is show courtesy to the one who saved your pretty ass. Literally," he added with a mysterious smile. He ignored Bashir's seething look as he left his quarters with a self-satisfied smile.

When Garak returned to the quarters he and Bashir would share for the remainder of the trip, he ran into Dukat. They glared at each other for a moment before Garak realized where Dukat was coming from.

"So," he said casually, "You and the good doctor had a nice, intimate conversation?" he inquired, smiling thinly. "I do hope my name came up once or twice, at least."

Dukat smugly lifted his chin. "You know me, Elim; can't stop talking about you."

Garak showed the first sign of his anger since his arrival as he bared his teeth. "Don't call me that. I can't stand the sound of it alone, even less on your lips." He made to continue his walk toward his quarters. Dukat smiled after him.

"What's wrong, Elim? In a hurry to get to your quarters? Thinking perhaps I ... had more than an intimate conversation with your dear companion?" Garak froze. "He is an attractive male. By Human standards, I should say. Quite responsive to my ... presence." Garak refused to let the voice rile him. He squared his shoulders, and glanced at Dukat.

"What you and Doctor Bashir do behind private doors is none of my business. Nor, I suspect, is it yours to announce it so boldly. I just hope for your sake that whatever transpired behind those doors was mutually conscentual."

Dukat smiled enigmatically before turning his back to the tailor and continuing down the corridor. Garak stared murderously after him for a moment more before he rushed to his room. When he hurried inside, he found no trace of Bashir in the main room. "Julian!?" he called, his voice a bit more frayed than he wanted it to be.

The young man looked out of the bathroom, clutching his chest. "What the hell is your problem? You scared me half to death!"

Garak peered at him critically. "Are you alright?"

"Of course I'm alright. Why wouldn't I be?" Bashir then crumpled his nose. "Oh no, wait, I know - you saw Dukat come out of our quarters and was immediately concerned for my safety, is that it?"

Garak stiffened defensively. "You don't know what he is capable of." Seeing that this argument would lead either of them nowhere, he sighed harshly and looked away. In doing so, his eyes caught sight of the two glasses of wine. He stared at them for a long moment before he left the room and announced that he was retiring to bed for the evening.

Bashir hesitated, closed the robe he had replicated for himself tighter around his waist, then picked up the PADD. When he walked into the bedroom, Garak was already inside covers and turned on his side. Bashir dimmed the lights, then climbed into his side of the bed.

Another tactic of Dukat's, no doubt, to place them in the same quarters. Either that, or the cargo ship he had acquired for himself wasn't equipped to handle more passengers than the sum of their crew. Possibly some Glinn was sharing a room with some other officer right now. Bashir had noticed a few personal effects scattered here and there, as though someone had moved out of there quickly and left behind some nonsensical items.

He sighed and brought the sheets over his waist comfortably as he settled against the raised pillow. He rested the PADD on his thighs, then glanced over at Garak, already sleeping soundly. Doubtless the Cardassian was exhausted, as neither of them had caught much sleep in the Lord's manor. He was only grateful Dukat had pulled them out of there before anything ... else had happened.

He turned away from Garak. Despite his resentment over being dragged into the spat he and Dukat had begun no doubt decades ago, Bashir couldn't help but feel ... something for Garak. He wasn't sure what. He had felt so hurt when the Cardassian had begun shouting contempt at him. So alone. He hadn't realized how much of his trust he had placed in Garak. How much he needed him.

He turned back to the PADD.

This was possibly Garak's past. This was perhaps everything Bashir had ever wanted to know about him. But what then? What would happen once he knew everything? Would his friendship be the same? Would he still feel the same toward the tailor as he felt now?

But what exactly DID he feel for Garak? He knew he considered him his friend - possibly his best. No, if fact, Bashir was certain Garak was his only true friend. The others were annoyed by him. Women only wanted to share his bed. Men thought he was a smug bastard. He couldn't rely on anyone on the station to treat him seriously or interact with him along with a degree of decency. Garak had done both, and more. Over the short years they had known each other, they had played against one another in the intellectual game of words, had helped each other in times of need.

He loved him. Yes, of course he did. He loved him dearly. But love and ... lust, they were different things. Again, Bashir glanced at Garak, trailing his eyes over the outline the Cardassian body made under the covers. He followed the deep rise and fall of his shoulder. Could he make love to this man? Could he kiss him? Open his lips gently and allow his tongue to gently explore the deepest recesses of himself? Could he? Would he? Did he want to?

Bashir sighed and turned back to the PADD, unable to bring himself to read it. When Garak spoke, breaking the peaceful stillness, Bashir jumped and inhaled violently.

"Whatever Dukat's told you," he said softly, "It's probably true. He knows more about me than almost anyone I know. It is up to you to decide whether you want that information to affect our friendship, which I value very much. I might not have told you this before, but it is important to me." Garak shifted in the bed, as though trying to find a good position to fall asleep in.

Bashir looked at him for a long moment before he took the PADD and hopped down from the bed. Once inside the bathroom, he opened the hatch to the recycler unit, then dropped the computer pad into it. By the time he was climbing back into the warmth and comfort of the bed, they both heard a swish of energy as whatever was in the recycler was destroyed.

"Garak," Julian murmured, beckonning the tailor's attention. When those baby blue eyes were half-opened and focused on the young doctor, Bashir leaned in. At first, Garak was too drowsy to really understand what was happening. Then expectation lifted his consciousness, his heart beat harder and a wave of heat passed over his temples, down his neckridges. Was he about to be kissed? He closed his eyes, cocking his head slightly to the side.

When the expectation lingered ... when it finally turned to disapointment, Garak opened his eyes, and found Julian buried in covers up to his chin, eyes closed tightly. It was obvious that whatever had incited the young man to lean in so seductively had panicked him in some way as well. Garak sighed softly. He returned to his earlier position, frustration stiffening his muscles and clenching his jaw. "Good night, Doctor," he said tensely. It was a long hour before his muscles slackened and he was allowed to sleep. Finally.

Bashir, for his part, had tried to still his heart and calm his breaths. While leaning in to kiss Garak, a panic had overwhelmed him. No no no no! Random thoughts had disturbed him - their altered friendship, odd looks from the crew and passers-by, disapointment from his father ... he had gotten a good long look into the near future in the moment he locked gazes with Garak, and it had been too much.

Now he hated himself for not having taken the plunge. He had watched the rectilinear way Garak's back had stiffened, the way his shoulders had tensed, and heard how harsh his breaths were. He was angry. And with reason, too. Bashir was many things, had been labelled many things, but never had he considered himself a tease. And that's precisely what he had done. He had teased. Not only Garak, but himself as well. He had been about to do something he was highly unprepared for, and while the thrill had been uncomparable, he had not thought of the consequences.

Damn that.

Bashir sighed, closed his eyes, and tried to sleep.

Continued -->