The BLTS Archive - Alone at Last
second in the Brotherhood Is Not by The Blood series
by Kathryn Ramage (kramage@erols.com)

---

Paramount owns Star Trek, DS9, and the characters even if they  never
really knew what to do with them.  This story was written  purely for
entertainment purposes.

Special Thanks: to Mary for her permission and encouragement.

Copyright December 1997

"Alone at Last" and "The Dangerous One" are sequels to Mary
Knasinski's "The Brotherhood is Not by the Blood."  Mary's story is
not online as far as I know; it originally appeared in the first issue
of the zine, "Doctor, Tailor, Officer, Spy."  However, I think that,
with a bit of explanation, the sequels shouldn't be too hard for those
who haven't read the first story to understand.

In "The Brotherhood is Not by the Blood," Garak and Bashir are
captured and tortured by the Maquis.  After they are rescued,
their relationship becomes abusive.  Julian tries to hide the
truth and to cope as Garak becomes more brutal to him.  When the
two go to Bajor and Garak vandalizes the tomb where the Maquis
who tortured them are buried, the situation can't be overlooked
by anyone any longer.  The boys are sent off to Betazed for
some therapy.

At this point in the story, there is a 6-month gap before the
final scene, where the boys are reconciled.  When I first read
"Brotherhood," I wondered what happened during that gap, and
wrote the first sequel, "Alone at Last" (the first 4 paragraphs
are from "Brotherhood," but the rest of it is my writing).
After I showed "Alone at Last" to Mary, we wrote "The Dangerous One"
together.

Both stories were intended to appear in a subsequent issue
of "Doctor, Tailor, Officer, Spy," which was never published.
There was some talk of a third sequel, but so far nothing has
come of it.

---

Garak was next to him, on the floor, Bashir sobbing into his
shoulder, "I won't let them take you, Garak, I'll  save you this time,
I won't let them hurt you- "

"Shh," he murmured into his ear, stroking and kissing  Bashir's face,
oblivious to the stares of the others in  the room.  "Shh, it's all
right, Julian, no one is going  to hurt me, it's all right... "

"Can't you see?  They're trying to get you alone so they can turn you
over to the Maquis.  I won't let them do it,  I won't let them touch
you--I won't let them give you  back to them-"

"They're not giving me back to them, they're dead--they  can't hurt us
any more.  No one wants to hurt us any more."   Bashir clung to him
tenaciously until the dizziness  returned and he collapsed, limp,
against him.  He felt  himself being lifted up into Garak's strong
arms, and he  snuggled against his chest, his hands around his neck,
safe and protected.  Captain Sisko was speaking...

"I want the both of you to get help right now!"

"Commander, the Bajoran Provisional Government will want  a reply,"
said Odo.

"I'll talk to the Bajorans.  Major Kira, contact Minister  Aila.  Dax,
prepare to send a subspace message to that  friend of yours at the
Psychiatric Institute on Betazed."

Garak's voice reverberated against his ear.  "Commander,  what are you
going to do?"

"What I should have done weeks ago.  This has gone on  long enough,"
Sisko rumbled.  "Odo, escort Mr. Garak to  the Infirmary.  I want Dr.
Bashir to undergo a thorough  physical exam--on my orders."

"Yes, Sir."

Julian would have put up a fight, but with this series  of thunderous
commands, Sisko had taken the matter  completely out of his control.
Had he ever been in  control?

He felt himself shift slightly as Garak rebalanced his  weight in his
arms and, at a murmured direction from Odo,  moved toward the door.

---

When Sisko came down to the Infirmary half an hour later,  Bashir lay
unconscious on one of the biobeds, naked under  a glittering silver
thermal blanket.  Odo stood at one  side; Garak sat at the other.

"Sedated?" the commander asked as the medic in charge  handed him the
doctor's completed medical report.

"Dr. Bashir agreed to submit to the examination," Odo  growled, "but
he became hysterical when the medical  staff tried to send Garak out
of the Infirmary."

As Sisko read over the report, his mouth grew into a  thin, grim line.
Occasionally, he glanced up at the  sleeping doctor and at Garak, who
kept his eyes  unwaveringly on Bashir as if nothing else existed.

When he was done, Sisko dismissed the medic and Odo.  "I've spoken to
Dr. Rennix on Betazed," he announced.   "He's expecting one patient
for intensive post-trauma  therapy--perhaps two."

Garak laughed, but did not turn his gaze from Julian's  face.  "I
appreciate your offer, Commander, but surely you  know as well as I do
that Cardassians are impervious to  all types of telepathic contact.
Your Betazoid therapist  would be wasting his time."

"Dr. Rennix has been apprised of the nature of his  prospective
patients," Sisko answered.  "Like any good  psychologist, he knows how
to do his job without relying  on his empathic abilities."

"And if I refuse to submit myself to the ministrations  of this
eminent psychologist?"

"If that's what you want," Sisko replied.  "The Bajoran  Provisional
Government has agreed not to seek prosecution  for the incident in the
cemetery provided that the parties  involved are placed under a
therapist's care.  Of course,  if you refuse, I'm sure they won't be
as understanding.   They'll probably want you to face trial for the
desecration of sacred ground."  Seeing the Cardassian's  jaw tighten
with repressed emotions, Sisko went on in a  darker, more dangerous
tone.  "And, when the Bajorans are  through with you, I'll put you up
on charges myself for  sexual assault, battery, multiple counts of
physical  abuse, and maybe even attempted murder."  He tapped the
datapadd he still held in one hand against the palm of  the other.  "I
have enough evidence right here to put  you in prison for a very long
time and see that you never  set foot in Federation space for the rest
of your life.   You'll never see Dr. Bashir again."

"That may not be such a tragedy,  Commander."

"Not for him," Sisko agreed.  "What about you?  It's  your choice: you
can go to prison and live out an exile  that'll make your life here
seem warm and friendly, or  you can go to Betazed where you'll be able
to exorcize  some of your personal demons and be able to see Dr.
Bashir regularly--at your therapist's discretion."

"It doesn't seem that I have much of a choice," Garak  murmured.  For
the first time, he turned to Sisko.   "Commander, can I ask why you're
doing this?  I'm sure  you'd rather see me put away somewhere, far
from Dr.  Bashir."

"Dr. Bashir needs help as much as you do," Sisko told  him.  "I intend
to see that he gets it--but I know he  won't agree to go unless I can
promise that you'll be  there with him."

---

Julian opened his eyes and reached out to find no one  there.
"Garak-?"

He sat up.  Sisko was seated at the foot of the biobed,  watching him
over steepled fingers.

"What did you do with him?" he demanded.

"He's in the habitat ring," Sisko answered,  "packing."

"Sir, you can't!"  Clutching the blanket to his chest,  Julian tried
to climb off the biobed.  Sisko rose quickly  to take him by the arms.
"Sir, please don't do this.   I can handle him if you'll just let us
alone-"

"Doctor- Julian," Sisko's tone became more fatherly,  "right now, you
aren't capable of handling anything.   You're an emotional and
physical wreck.  Two hours ago,  you were crawling on my office floor
in hysterics,  begging to protect a man who's been _torturing_ you.
You're scared to death of him, and you cling to him for  your life."

"I'm the only one who can help him-"

"You're destroying yourself!"  He gave the doctor a rough  little
shake, then let him go.  "Don't you see what you're  doing?  Your
medical career is in danger. Your career in  Starfleet.  Your health.
Your life. You're sacrificing  everything to make up for the crimes
other humans have  committed against Garak, but Garak is not getting
any  better.  How are you helping him by letting him kill you?   It's
only a matter of time before he does--and you won't  be there to
protect him any more.  _Think_, Julian.   What would you do for a
patient in your condition?"

Bashir drew his knees up to his chest; a shot of pain  ran up through
him and he began to weep: Not wrenching  sobs, not frantic, anxious
whimpers; the tears simply  flowed down his face unchecked.  Sisko was
right.  His  commander hadn't said anything he hadn't told himself a
dozen times.

"I know I need help," he admitted, wiping his cheeks  and chin with
the back of one hand.  "I know I can't  take care of this situation on
my own. But, sir, if you  separate us, it'll only make matters worse.
If he doesn't  have me, he'll take only take his anger out on other
people."

"I'm not going to separate you," Sisko answered.  "I've  talked to a
doctor at the Psychiatric Institute on Betazed,  and I've made
arrangements with a Federation starship  returning from the Cardassian
border to stop at DS9 this  evening to pick up three passengers to
convey there.   Garak is packing for you as well as himself.  You'll
leave for Betazed tonight.  Odo will accompany you.  You'll  be
watched constantly and if I know Odo, you won't be  left alone with
Garak for one minute, but the two of you  will be together.  Under
these conditions, will you agree  to go quietly and sign yourself into
the hospital for  intense psychiatric counseling?"

"Garak's agreed to this?"

"I've explained things to him.  He's agreed."

Watched constantly.  Guarded like prisoners.  Never  permitted a
moment alone.  He couldn't say he was happy  with the situation Sisko
described--in fact, he deeply  resented the way his private life was
being directed, as  if he couldn't be held responsible for
himself--but what  other options were there?

Julian sighed.  "Then I don't have much of a choice, do I?"

---

The Enterprise arrived at DS9 that evening, entering an  orbit around
the station rather than attempting to dock.   They would not be here
for long; the passengers Commander  Sisko had asked them to convey to
Betazed were ready to  depart.

After a brief conversation with Sisko from the privacy  of his ready
room, Captain Picard contacted Counselor  Troi and asked her to greet
their guests.

Troi arrived at the transporter room just as three men  materialized
on the platform.  One was Cardassian, but  _that_ was not unexpected;
the captain had warned her that  one of the guests would be.  The
second, a strangely  smooth-faced man in a Bajoran uniform, was a
little more  puzzling, but Troi quickly recalled that he was DS9's
Chief of Security--her mother had mentioned him several  times.
Undoubtedly, he was escorting the other two.

Julian Bashir, however, was a disturbing surprise.  She  didn't know
the station's CMO very well; they had been  introduced the last time
the Enterprise had visited and  she had often heard Data and Geordi
speak of him as an  exuberant young man.  The young man who appeared
before  her now, in civilian clothing, looked pale, fragile, and
wary.  She barely recognized him.

Nevertheless, she put on her brightest and least  threatening smile
and stepped forward.

"Welcome aboard the Enterprise, gentlemen.  I'm Deanna  Troi, the
ship's counselor."

"I'm Dr. Bashir," Julian introduced himself first.  "We've  met
before, haven't we?"

"Yes, very briefly."

As the trio stepped off the transporter platform, the  Cardassian took
the doctor's elbow, as if he meant to  help him down.  The security
chief made a low, growling  sound of warning; the Cardassian let go
instantly.   Bashir lifted his eyes to glare up at the shapeshifter.

Troi glanced from one to the others, perplexed by this  exchange.  The
Cardassian and the shapeshifter were  unreadable to her, but the
interplay between them  suggested a certain personal friction.  Some
contention  over the doctor?  Bashir was broadcasting _his_ emotions
at an intensity she would have found difficult to block  out if she'd
wanted to.   And what she sensed from him  troubled her.

The doctor's eyes were still flashing with resentment  when he reached
her, but he merely offered his hand and  said politely, "A pleasure to
see you again, Counselor.   This is Mr. Garak,"--the Cardassian bowed
slightly as  Bashir gestured in his direction--"And Odo."

Troi didn't need to be an empath to sense his hostility  as he
pronounced this last name.

"Counselor," Odo nodded.  "Commander Sisko has asked  me to accompany
the doctor and Garak to Betazed."

"We were only expecting two passengers," Troi answered.   "But I'm
sure we can find available quarters near the  suite we've assigned-"

"I don't need a room, thank you," Odo told her abruptly.   "I don't
require a bed.  I don't sleep."

As she escorted the guests to their quarters, Troi walked  with Dr.
Bashir a little ahead of the others.  The doctor's  emotions were
still turbulent, but he was obviously  making an effort not to
misdirect his anger at her.   Although he remained wary of her as a
psychologist and an  empath, her size and attitude were
unintimidating; he  was beginning to relax in her company.

In spite of Bashir's alarming emotional and physical  condition, he
seemed the most comfortable of the three.   Troi had always found it
unsettling when she was unable  to sense the people around her; the
two men walking  immediately behind her might not exist for all she
could  perceive their psychical presences.  Yet she was very  much
aware of them.  From the things her mother had said  about Constable
Odo, she had expected him to be gruff  but endearing, but as he paced
deliberately beside  his--prisoner?--she only found him relentlessly
grim and  forbidding. And the Cardassian's silence was unnerving;
Troi couldn't help thinking that if she _could_ sense  what was going
on behind that carefully expressionless  face and those remote blue
eyes, it would be more  disturbing than anything she felt from the
young man at  her side.

At least Bashir was willing to talk to her.  She could  hope to solve
the mysteries surrounding _him_.

"What's it like on Betazed?" Bashir asked her.  "I've-  We've-" he
glanced back at Garak, "never been there before.   I've heard it's
lovely."

"I think it's the most beautiful planet in the galaxy,"  Troi replied
with a reassuring smile.  "You'll be quite  comfortable there.  The
main psychiatric facility is on  the northern continent, near the
ocean.  Summer is just  beginning."  She noted another glance thrown
at the  Cardassian, and caught a brief flash of something-- anxiety?
fear? hopefulness? As if Bashir had just offered  the Cardassian
something to appease him.  She continued,  "It's considered one of the
best hospitals in the  Federation. Whatever problems you've been
having, they'll  be able to help you."

"So we've been told," Garak murmured, more to himself.

But Bashir was regarding her with mild surprise.  "They  didn't tell
you about our- ah- problems?"

"I was informed that you had been captured by the Maquis,"  Troi
answered delicately.

"Yes, that's exactly what happened."  He did not turn to  Garak this
time, but she felt that his thoughts were  directed toward the
Cardassian once again.  Bashir was  not telling her everything, but
the pieces of the puzzle  were beginning to fall into place.

"I have not been asked to treat you as a patient during  this trip,
but if you'd like to talk to me at any time,  about anything at all,
please feel free."  She turned  briefly to Garak, to include him in
the invitation as  well.  "I'll be happy to help in any way I can."

"Thank you," the doctor answered, and she knew he had no  intention of
accepting her offer.

They had reached the door to the suite.  Troi gave them a  quick,
basic tour of the quarters, pointing out the  replicator, the comm
panel, the doors to the bath and  bedrooms.

"Do the doors lock, Counselor?" Odo asked.

"From the inside?  Yes, of course."

"From the outside."

"Er...yes," she answered, "they do."  She couldn't sense  the
Cardassian, but she could see that he was standing  as rigidly as a
statue, eyes unfocused and fists clenched  at his sides.  A fresh
burst of sickened outrage from  Bashir stabbed through her.

Troi watched as Odo escorted Garak to one of the bedrooms,  showed him
in and sealed the door, then gestured for  Bashir to enter the other.

"It was so nice to see you again," Julian told her  before he went in.

"If there's anything we need, I'll be sure to contact you,"  Odo
dismissed her.  "Thank you, Counselor."

Troi exited the room and stood in the corridor as the  door slid shut,
a small, puzzled frown creasing her brow.

---

When she returned to the bridge, she went straight to  Picard's ready
room.

"How are our passengers?" the captain asked once she had  been invited
to enter.

"Stowed safely away, sir."

"Now," he gestured to a seat and sat forward in his own  chair, "what
can you tell me about them?"

"Perhaps I ought to ask _you_ that question first," Troi  answered as
she sat down.  "What can you tell me?"

Picard nodded.  "According to Commander Sisko, his CMO,  Dr. Bashir,
and a Cardassian resident of DS9 were  captured and held prisoner by
the Maquis for nearly a  week."

Troi had heard this much of the story before.  "He didn't  tell you
why they were taken, or what happened to them?"

"The commander was not specific, but I understand that  both of them
have been tortured.  At Sisko's advisement,  they have agreed to seek
medical treatment on Betazed  to aid in their recovery."  He paused
for a moment.  "I  gather there have been some...emotional
difficulties in  their coping with the after-effects of this trauma."

"They're not dangerous, are they?"

"Dangerous?"  Picard looked curious.

"The security chief, Odo, treats them as if they were  prisoners," she
explained.  "He's locked them into their  rooms."

"You didn't sense anything, any indication that this  course of action
was warranted?"

Troi shook her head.  "The only one of our guests I can  sense
empathically is Dr. Bashir.  He's..." She gave  Picard her full
impressions.  "He's angry, Captain.  At  the present, most of his
resentment is directed at Mr.  Odo for guarding him so closely, but
there's so much  more he's angry about beyond this immediate situation
that I can't begin to sort it out.  He's afraid too, and  deeply
ashamed of himself--for what reason, I'm not  certain.  He's
frustrated that he's no longer in control,  but at the same time I
feel that he's relieved that his  control has been taken away.  It
removes some of a  terrible burden he believes he's been under.  He
hates  what's happening to him, but he's unable or unwilling  to fight
against it."

"That's quite a detailed impression, Counselor."

Troi acknowledged this with a hint of a smile.  "Dr.  Bashir didn't
try to conceal his emotions from me.  He  was very intense."  She
hesitated, then provided a  final piece of information.  "Captain,
there's one more  thing:  He's in love."

"With whom?" As Picard began to put all the information  together to
arrive at the same conclusion that she had,  the corner of his mouth
turned down slightly in disgust.  "Not the Cardassian?"

---

Six hours passed before Odo had to reconstitute.  In that  time,
Picard had visited his guests and found them less  than chatty, and
Garak and Bashir were permitted to have  dinner together.  Eventually,
however, Odo was forced to  return to his liquid state and leave his
charges untended  for awhile.

Garak had been returned to his room after the captain's  visit and
dinner, but Odo had let Bashir remain in the  main living area.

"I'd like to be able to trust you, Doctor," the constable  growled, as
if he didn't at all.

"I'll be good," Julian answered him sullenly from the  sofa, arms
folded, eyes downcast.  "Is it all right with  you if I go out for a
walk before I go to bed?"

"I suppose so."

"Can I talk to Garak?"

"You can talk to him over the comm system," Odo consented.   "But I
don't want you to go into his room."

"He wouldn't dare lay a hand on me now." Julian scowled.   "Not after
the way you and Commander Sisko threatened  him."

"I don't want you alone in the same room with him."   Odo was adamant.
He was also beginning to drip.  "If  I can't rely on you to stay out
of Garak's quarters,  Doctor, then I will have to seal you in _your_
quarters  until I can resume solid form."

"I _promise_," Bashir insisted.  "On my word as a  Starfleet officer.
You can lock me up for the rest of  this trip if I don't."

There was no more time for argument.  "Very well," Odo  agreed, and
stalked away to liquefy in private.

Bashir remained where he was for a few more minutes,  until he heard
the gentle slosh of protoplasm from the  adjoining room.  Then he went
to the door to Garak's  room.  He sank down to the carpet and rested
his cheek  and the palm of one hand against the metallic surface.

"Garak," he whispered.

They could have spoken to each other through the comm  system, as Odo
had suggested, but Julian wanted something  more intimate than
electronic contact.  He needed to be  _close_.

They hadn't had a chance to talk about what had happened  to them.
They hadn't been permitted one moment alone  since he'd been called up
to Sisko's office this morning  to explain what he and Garak had been
doing on Bajor.   Had it really been less than a day?  So much had
changed;  the whole of reality had shifted around him and nothing
would ever be as it had been before this monstrous  alteration.  A
day?  It seemed more like an eternity.

He had no idea what Garak was feeling right now. Garak's  general
attitude suggested that he was presently in one  of those brief, lucid
periods of remorse he always  showed after his worst bouts of abuse.
Odo had kept  Garak under constant guard since they'd returned to the
Infirmary with the bags they'd packed for this journey-- as if he were
prepared to subdue the tailor at a moment's  notice--but Garak had not
displayed one dangerous  outburst of temper. He was cooperative.  He
was quiet.  He had barely said a word even to Julian, and the few
remarks he had made were impersonal and detached.  As  if they'd never
shared anything--not friendship, not  love, not their abduction, nor
anything they'd been  through since then.

The door slid open.  Julian started back and caught  himself before he
fell to the carpet at Garak's feet.

"The security systems on your Federation starships are  pathetically
inadequate," Garak told him.  "That lock  mechanism presented no
challenge at all."

"These are standard personnel quarters," Julian answered.   "They were
never meant to hold prisoners."

Garak's lips twitched in an ironic smile.  "Where is  our jailer?"

"Puddled in the bathtub."

He was suddenly aware of how isolated they were.  As he  craned his
neck to look up at Garak, towering over him,  he realized that the
last thing he wanted was to be  alone with this man.  Garak had blamed
him for their  capture by the Maquis.  He'd blamed him for not saving
himself when he'd had the chance.  Did Garak blame him  for _this_ as
well?

"How long do we have?" Garak asked.

"One hour, perhaps two--but we're going to be good boys,"  Julian
added hastily.  "I gave Odo my word."

Garak seemed willing to indulge him for the moment.  "Then what do you
propose we do?"

"Odo said that I could go out around the ship, and that  I could talk
with you, but we mustn't be left alone."   He laughed nervously.  "It
seems the only reasonable  option is that you come out with me."  He
hoped that  Garak would agree to his terms, and not batter him
senseless for his impudence or insist on taking him right  here while
he had the opportunity.

Nevertheless, he held his breath and waited for the first  blow to
fall.

Garak stared down at him for a terrible, silent moment,  then he said,
"I would rather not be shut up in that  miserable little room for
another second myself." He  held out a hand.  "You know this ship,
Doctor.  Is there  any place more... spacious?"

"There's a lounge on Deck 10," Julian answered, still  trembling, as
he climbed to his feet. "We can go there."

---

It was the middle of the night on the Enterprise; the Alpha  and
Beta-shift personnel were in bed and the Gammas were on  duty.  There
were only a few people in Ten Forward when Garak  and Bashir walked
in.  The handful of Starfleet officers  looked surprised, disturbed,
even offended at the sight of  a Cardassian aboard the flagship of the
Federation, but the  bartender greeted her unfamiliar patrons as if
they were  not at all remarkable.  She even offered kanar.

Garak refused politely and, once Bashir requested Tarkelian  tea,
ordered the same.  They took their drinks to the most  out-of-the-way
table they could find.

"It definitely lacks the ambiance of Quark's," Garak said,  eyes
darting around the room to observe the disapproving  patrons and the
bartender who was pretending not to keep  an eye on them.  "But it is
comfortable."

They sipped their tea in silence.  Julian glanced up at  his companion
at intervals.  Comfortable?  Yes, Garak  did seem to have relaxed a
little.  Julian hadn't seen  him so much at ease in weeks, not since
before...

Feeling a little more relaxed himself, Bashir rose and  stepped back
from the table.  He climbed onto the wide  sill of the window behind
him, tucked his feet up and  slid back behind a large potted fern
which effectively  screened the far end of the window from view.  When
he  leaned forward to peek out from behind the fronds, Garak  was
regarding him with an unreadable expression.

He tried a smile.  "Come join me?"

Garak glanced around one last time, but apparently no  one was
watching.  He set down his mug of tea and joined  the doctor.  With
some shifting around, they managed to  find a comfortable position
together--Garak settled  with his back against the curve of the window
and Bashir  twisted half-way around to curl in his arms, knees to  the
window and head resting on Garak's shoulder.  When  the arms about him
tightened, Bashir sighed and shut his  eyes.

"It's going to be all right," he whispered.  "We're  going to be all
right."

"We are prisoners," Garak answered softly.  "We will be  locked up on
Betazed just as Odo has locked us up here.   We might as well have
surrendered ourselves to Bajoran  justice."

*Better Betazed than a Bajoran prison,* Julian thought,  but he didn't
say it out loud.  The last thing he wanted  to do was to make Garak
angry.  They had so little time;  they had to make the most of it.

He would have liked to turn his head just enough to  nuzzle the fabric
of Garak's tunic, or stretch up for  a kiss. If the oversized fern had
blocked them a little  more thoroughly, he might have even been
tempted to  slide down between Garak's knees. But after that incident
on the Bajoran transport, he'd learned his lesson.  He  ought to be
grateful that Garak had agreed to this  cuddle in a place private
enough to create the illusion  that they were alone, but public enough
to be safe.

He still felt as if he had no control over his lover's  behavior, but
at least Garak was taking the trouble to  control himself.  Not for
the first time, Bashir wondered  what threats Sisko had made to gain
Garak's cooperation.  Or had Garak agreed to do this for his sake?

"I don't like it either," he told Garak, "but they will  be able to
help us."

Garak sniffed derisively; his chest rose and fell rapidly  beneath
Julian.  "Your Betazoid friend gave us the same  reassurance.  I,
however, have my doubts about the  effectiveness of this treatment in
_my_ case."

"You didn't have to come along with me."

Garak was silent for so long that Julian was certain  that he wasn't
going to answer.  Then he said, "No,  Doctor, I wanted to come."

It was for him, then.

Knowing this, Bashir felt a sudden surge of happiness,  untainted by
fear or anger. He had hope again; if Garak  was submitting to this
therapy to try to make amends  for the pain he'd inflicted, then
everything really was  going to be all right for the both of them.  It
was too  early to expect a spoken apology--and he would not spoil
this moment by asking for one.  It would come eventually;  Julian was
certain of that now, as he lay contented in  his lover's arms and
Garak stroked his hair absently.

He lifted his head just a little to peek up: Garak was  looking out of
the window at the streaking stars, but at  the slight movement, his
eyes flickered down to meet  Julian's.  His hand slid down from
Julian's curls,  slipped around and under the doctor's jaw, and pulled
his head back.  The slender neck arched against his  shoulder.  He
kissed him, so hard at first that a jolt  of desire ran through the
surprised doctor.

Up to this point, Bashir had simply been glad to have  any physical
contact.  Now, he wanted more. The prospect  of Garak making love to
him, just once, before Odo  recaptured them excited him unbearably. It
was his final  act of defiance.  Why had he ever been afraid? Why had
he been so stupid, bringing Garak here when they might  be alone in
their quarters right now?

He tried to twist into the embrace, but Garak's arm was  tight about
his chest, and the powerful fingers clamped  at his throat held his
head firmly in place. His upper  body was securely pinned, but he
could move his hips.   Bashir tried to wriggle a little closer; he
rocked back  against Garak as the kiss deepened, and made soft,
murmuring sounds of encouragement--until Garak broke  away abruptly.

"Not here."

Jarred so suddenly from arousal back into terror, Julian's  heart
seemed to stop.  He sat up slowly, extracting  himself from the arms
that no longer pinned him, and  moved cautiously away.  His eyes
locked on Garak's,  searching for any sign that this interlude was
about to  turn violent.

"No," he agreed.  "Not here.  Let's- ah- let's go back  to our rooms."

"You promised Odo you were going to behave yourself."

Bashir laughed nervously.  "You didn't think I would keep  that
promise, did you?"

The door to Ten Forward hissed open just then, and  several people
hurried in.  Odo's voice seemed to fill  the room.

"Where are they?"

The bartender replied,  "Over there."

Julian scrambled out from behind the shrubbery.  With Odo  were
Commander Riker, whom Bashir remembered from the  Enterprise's last
visit, the Klingon security officer,  and a small complement of
guards.

*Did they really think they needed a whole fucking army  to hunt us
down?* the doctor thought.  Aloud, he protested,  "We weren't doing
anything wrong!  You said I could go  out."

"I didn't say _he_ could," Odo growled.     As Garak emerged from
their hiding place, the security  guards stepped forward, phasers
drawn, ready to shoot  at the slightest provocation.

Julian whirled, eyes pleading, from Odo to Garak to Riker,  wondering
how he could defuse this situation before it  escalated.  His mind was
a whirl of useless words:  *Please, no, oh, please, no.  Don't do this
to him.*   The guards couldn't know the effect that humans with  their
weapons drawn would have on Garak.  The Cardassian  was standing
perfectly still, but Bashir could see a  flash of something--fury?
outrage? panic?--behind that  calm facade. Garak could burst into
uncontrollable rage  at any second.  He could be so dangerous.  What
would  happen if the guards tried to subdue him?  Could they?  Would
they have to hurt him?

"No, don't..." but before he could begin his plea, the  door whisked
open again and Troi stepped in.  She was in  uniform, but her hair was
flying in loose, tousled curls,  as if this emergency had pulled her
out of bed.  Her  eyes darted around the room, finding all the key
players,  then fixed on Bashir.

"That won't be necessary, Commander Riker," she said  while she
continued to watch the doctor. "Security can  put their weapons away."

Riker regarded her for a moment as if he were about to  ask for an
explanation, then nodded.  "Do it," he ordered.

Reluctantly, the guards lowered their phasers.  Julian  sighed.  Garak
merely returned to his seat at the table  and sipped his now-cold tea
under Worf's suspicious  glare.

While Troi and Riker whispered in conference, Odo focused  his
attention on Bashir.

"Doctor, have you been injured?"

"I'm fine," Julian replied, somewhat defensively.  "No  bruises--see?"
He lifted his chin and tugged open his  shirt collar to display his
unmarked throat.  "Not a bite.   Not a scratch.  Not even a hickey!"
He was aware that  his voice was rising and the Enterprise personnel
were  listening in astonishment; Odo might not know what a  "hickey"
was, but every human officer in the vicinity  did.  Odo was no more
likely to explain the nature of  the situation than Garak would be;
_he_, however, had  just told them more than enough.

He could see the looks of comprehension and disgust on  their faces,
and he hated every on of them for it.

"We've been good," Julian lowered his voice.  "We just  wanted to be
together for a little while.  You can  understand that, can't you?"
He took Odo by the elbow  to draw him aside.  "Once we're on Betazed,
we'll only  be allowed to be together under close observation.   This
is our last chance for privacy."

"I can understand your desire to have privacy," Odo  answered, "but I
am responsible for your safety, Doctor.  I can't permit you to be
hurt."

"I haven't been hurt--I won't be." Julian took a breath,  and made a
request:  "Surely you can give us a little  time by ourselves?"

"Commander Sisko gave me explicit orders that you and  Mr. Garak were
not to be left unattended."

"Odo, _please_.  You're supposed to keep an eye on us-- I understand
that--but Commander Sisko didn't tell you  we were meant to be watched
every second, did he?"

"Sisko wouldn't presume to second-guess me on correct  security
procedures for escorting prisoners."

"We're not under arrest," Bashir reminded him.  "We're  patients.  We
aren't dangerous."

"_You_ may not be..." Odo began.

"Garak's in control of himself now-" He glanced in the  direction of
their table, where Garak sat watching them.   "He hasn't committed one
act you can call threatening  since we left the station, has he?"

"No," Odo admitted reluctantly.

"He didn't even lose his temper when the guards were  ready to shoot
at him.  He knows how much trouble we're  in, what will happen if he
hurts me again." The Constable  was showing signs of giving in. "I'll
be fine," Julian  went on, cajolingly. "One hour, that's all I ask.
Just  a little conjugal visit. It'll be months before we'll  have
another opportunity.  Odo, I'm begging you.  You  can monitor us.  Dr.
Crusher can examine me afterwards.   Whatever you want.  Name your
conditions."

He knew that he was humiliating himself again just to be  with Garak,
but he didn't care.  The desperation of his  need overwhelmed all
other concerns.  He would do anything  for a few minutes alone.

Counselor Troi could no longer hear him, but she  continued to watch
him with a worried frown.

Garak, meanwhile, was staring fixedly at the mug between  his hands.
Embarrassed by his pleas?  Or furious at him  for making a scene?

"Dr. Bashir," Troi had stepped forward, "can I talk to  you for a
moment?"  She repeated the offer she had made  hours earlier:  "I'd
like to help."

Julian nodded.

"Mr. Odo, will you excuse us, please?" the Counselor  asked; Odo
grumbled his consent and left them alone.

Bashir and Troi went over to the bar to sit down.  At a  glance from
Deanna, the bartender retreated as well.

"It must be hard for you," Troi began gently, "feeling  so helpless.
As if your own life is no longer yours to  determine.  You feel as if
you have to beg to be given  the things that other people take for
granted. Your  freedom.  Privacy.  Personal safety.  Dignity.  The
right  to be with the sexual partner of your choice."

Julian nodded.  He was not offended by this intrusion  into his most
private feelings. She was Betazoid and he  had not once tried to
conceal his thoughts.  Of course  she knew everything and, more
important, she seemed to  understand.

"You've been violated in so many ways, you don't feel as  if you can
defend yourself against it any more.  You  let it happen because you
don't think you can stop it.  You embrace it. Your surrender proves to
you that you  couldn't have prevented it anyway. You won't let
yourself  feel the emotions that would be most natural to someone
who's suffered as you have."

"And what is it I'm supposed to be feeling?" Julian  asked, a little
more warily.  He was beginning to see  where this was leading.

"Rage," she answered.

Bashir laughed.  "Counselor, I assure you I _am_ angry.   I
acknowledge it, but I can't go around screaming and  throwing things
to express it.  Sane and civilized people  don't behave that way."

"No," Troi told him.  "What you're doing is far worse.  You're
translating your anger into something you find  more acceptable."

"What's that?"

Troi turned to look at Garak, who was flanked by Odo.  Riker and Worf
lingered nearby.  All four were staring  at them. "You offer yourself
up in hopes that it will  heal _his_ pain."

"Won't it?"

"Denying your own needs won't solve your problems-- either yours or
his.  It isn't enough that you make the  sacrifice to save him.  He
has to care enough to sacrifice  himself for you."

"He has," Julian shot back.  This woman might sense the  range of his
emotions; she could sympathize, but she  didn't understand any more
than the rest of them did.   "He's here now, isn't he?"  He spun off
the barstool and  stalked away.

"What about it, Odo?" he asked once he reached the table.

"One hour," Odo consented.  "I won't monitor you, but if  I have any
reason to suspect that you've been abused at  the end of that period,
I will take you directly to the  Infirmary-"

"Sickbay," Bashir corrected him.

"Sickbay.  For an examination, the results of which will  be sent to
the Psychiatric Institute on Betazed with the  rest of your medical
records."  He gave Garak his most  intimidating glower.  "Is that
understood?"

Neither of them answered, but it was understood.

Odo turned to Riker.  "Thank you for your assistance,  Commander.  The
situation is under control."

"I think the captain would like to know what's going on,"  Riker
answered.

"I will give your captain my report shortly, just as  soon as I escort
the doctor and Mr. Garak to quarters."

Odo leading the way, they left Ten Forward.  Julian did  not meet the
Counselor's eyes as he walked out.

---

Odo made note of the exact time at the door to their  quarters,
then left them alone.  Garak, evidently still  feeling some aversion
toward the room he had been locked  up in, led Bashir to his own
bedroom.  The doctor leaned  against him, heart thumping wildly.  He
had wanted to  create a memory he could treasure through the miserable
months of therapy to come, but as they walked to his  room, he grew
more certain that he'd only begged himself  into one last session in
hell.  Whenever he'd dared to  anticipate happiness before this, Garak
had ravaged his  hopes with incomprehensible fury.

Why did Garak always have to terrorize him?  All Julian  had ever
wanted for his lover, for himself, was that  they both be safe, well,
and happy together.  He would  give anything to accomplish that.  He'd
given so much  already.  What more did Garak want of him?

Damn Garak for doing this to him.  Damn him for the pain.   Damn him
for making him so afraid of the intimacy he  craved.  Damn him, damn
him, damn him...

The bedroom door slid shut behind them.

As Garak reached to take him by the throat for another  rough kiss,
Bashir shrank back against the bulkhead and  shrieked, "Don't touch
me!"

Garak let go abruptly and stared at him in amazement.

"I don't want to be punished anymore.  I _love_ you, Elim.  I'll do
anything for you--why can't you forgive me? I'm  sorry!  I'm sorry
that I made you go to Bajor.  I'm sorry  we got caught and you have to
come to Betazed with me  rather than be stuck in prison.  I'm sorry I
embarrassed  you in front of Commander Sisko this morning and the
whole Enterprise crew just now.  I'm sorry I didn't  leave you to die
without me if that's what you wanted me  to do!  Whatever it is,
Garak, I apologize for it.  Just  stop hurting me!"

He stopped, trembling, breathless, waiting.  Surely, he  was about to
be battered senseless for this outburst.

While Bashir had been screaming, Garak had stepped back  to sit at the
foot of the bed.  He was no longer staring  at Julian, but blinking
rapidly, eyes unfocused as his  thoughts turned inward.  When Julian
stopped, he looked  up at him.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

Bashir slumped back against the wall behind the door, and  let out one
short, sharp laugh.  Then he sank to the  floor--his legs refused to
support him another second--and  burst into tears.

As he curled, knees to his chest, body shaking with his  sobs, he
heard Garak rise and advance toward him.  He  twitched involuntarily
when the Cardassian crouched down  at his side and touched him
tentatively, but he didn't  struggle when Garak gathered him up.

Garak cradled him, kissed his forehead and murmured  softly against
his ear, "Julian, ssh.  Don't cry.  Don't  cry.  It's going to be all
right."

---

continued in the third of the Brotherhood Is Not by The Blood series -
'The Dangerous One'