The BLTS Archive - The Web
by Yavanna (kcolohan@sidsplace.win-uk.net)

---

DISCLAIMER: Star Trek, Star Trek:Deep Space Nine and its characters
are copyright Paramount and no infringement is intended. The story,
such as it is, is copyright Karen Colohan January 1998.

Author's notes: This story takes place shortly after Bashir et al are
rescued and returned to the starbase. When I wrote this I hadn't seen
the episode "The Magnificent Ferengi", though I did know its outcome,
so if there are any inconsistencies my apologies. I have assumed the
G/B relationship to have been ongoing for some length of time at this
point. Also, please note that there are two possible endings - there
is a link to the second at the end of this version.

---

Julian Bashir studied the medical readouts one final time and nodded
his approval. He was glad to have something useful to do to occupy his
time while he and the others awaited reassignment - and quite apart
from that Bashir hated to leave a job half done. The surgery this time
had been completed much more to his satisfaction - and without the
grandstand audience! With the full resources of a starbase infirmary
at his disposal he had been able to improve considerably upon his
first surgical efforts to repair the Vorta's injuries. On that
occasion he had admitted to employing nothing more than cellular
microsutures and a lot of hope - but it had been enough to save
Keevan's life until more permanent repairs were possible.

If he were honest with himself Bashir still had mixed feelings about
having done so. The doctor in him could not have stood by and watched
the Vorta die, but knowing how Keevan had then callously betrayed the
Jem'Hadar unit assigned to him - allowing them to be slaughtered
without the slightest trace of regret - Bashir harboured more than a
few uncharitable thoughts about him. And now the Vorta was a prisoner
of war, destined to be held in comfort and safety until the war was
over. The injustice of it galled the doctor.

Pursing his lips in irritation Bashir snapped his medical tricorder
shut. In repose the Vorta face seemed incongruously peaceful, innocent
even. How could someone who looked so beautiful on the outside have
such an uncaring, ugly heart? The doctor shuddered. He would be glad
to see the back of Keevan. He found the soft-voiced Vorta profoundly
disturbing.

And not just because of his callous attitude to his men it seems,
whispered a treacherous voice inside Bashir's mind. You did call him
beautiful after all...

Horrified by the errant thought the doctor snatched up a hypospray and
pressed it against Keevan's neck with far more force than was
warranted. The sooner the insidious creature was awake the sooner
Bashir could dismiss him from the infirmary and hand him over to
security. It was no wonder the Founders used the Vorta as their
ambassadors to other races, he decided. The Vorta's ability to be
ingratiating and utterly charming, even when they were completely
insincere, was beyond compare.

Keevan's clear eyes fluttered open and he stretched experimentally. No
pain accompanied the movement, a considerable improvement. As he
slowly turned his head the Vorta noticed Bashir standing, hypospray in
hand, watching his return to consciousness.

"Ah, Doctor Bashir, I promise there will be no self-diagnosis this
time. I should hate to displease my physician again. However, permit
me to say that I feel much better after this surgery than I did the
first time." Keevan smiled disarmingly, but received only a frown from
Bashir in return.

"Yes, well, the conditions were rather less conducive to effective
treatment the last time I operated on you," conceded Bashir. "The
repairs should be permanent now."

"Should be?" queried Keevan, surprised.

"Well, it depends if you manage to get yourself injured again, doesn't
it?" said Bashir coolly. "At any rate you'll be enjoying an enforced
convalescence until the war is over. You're fit enough to be released
into the care of security now."

"Of course, I understand." Again the Vorta offered the doctor one of
his most engaging smiles. "I am grateful to you for saving my life."

"It was my job to do so," replied Bashir flatly. He shrugged his
shoulders dismissively, allowing just a little of the distaste he felt
for Keevan and his actions to show in his face. "It was nothing."

"Nevertheless, Doctor Bashir..." The soft voice grated on Bashir's
nerves. It seemed to twist its way into his soul, insidious,
beguiling. With a faint shudder the doctor turned and stalked into the
office to call security. Consequently he didn't see the way the smile
on Keevan's face broadened, became speculative, calculating. It was
probably fortunate that he did not, for the sight would have chilled
his heart. The Vorta looked for all the world like a hunting creature
that has finally scented its prey...

Bashir received the summons from security with surprise - and a
measure of irritation. The Vorta was complaining of feeling unwell and
had insisted that Bashir be called to attend him. The doctor was
tempted to refuse and have one of the starbase medics check on him
instead, but in the end his conscience led him to comply with the
request - personal feelings aside, Keevan was his patient.
Nevertheless the necessity of seeing the Vorta again annoyed the
doctor. He had been looking forward to spending a much needed,
uninterrupted, evening relaxing with Garak. He seemed to have had
precious little opportunity to be with his lover for far too long now
and he resented this intrusion on his limited free time. Duty overrode
Bashir's faint thoughts of rebellion though - it was probably a false
alarm and he could be finished in just a few minutes - and he
presented himself at the guarded guest quarters which had been
assigned to Keevan.

The Vorta was lying on the couch, covered by a blanket. As he took a
quick visual inventory Bashir had to admit Keevan did look rather
pale, even for a Vorta. He retrieved his medical tricorder from the
medkit, approached Keevan and began to scan him.

"Thank you for coming to tend to me, doctor," said Keevan gratefully.
"After the way you left this afternoon I wasn't sure that you would."

"I told you, it's my job," replied Bashir automatically, neglecting to
mention that he had been sorely tempted not to come. He studied the
tricorder readings carefully. "Hm, you do have some unexpected
fluctuations in your blood chemistry. I can give you something to
stabilise the levels and then you should feel a lot better. It appears
you have a mild allergic reaction to one of the painkilling drugs I
gave you earlier. I suppose it's not entirely surprising as I know
nothing of your previous medical history." The doctor quickly set
about preparing the necessary hypospray, grateful it hadn't turned out
to be a more complex problem. He wouldn't miss much of his evening
with Garak after all.

"Doctor," observed Keevan thoughtfully, "forgive me for mentioning it,
but you seem - uncomfortable in my presence. I can't help wondering
why." Bashir turned abruptly, staring at the Vorta in surprise. Had he
really been so transparent in his dislike?

"I don't know what you mean," he replied shortly, not wanting to get
into a conversation with Keevan now.

"Oh, I get the feeling you find me - disturbing in some way,"
continued the Vorta, his almost colourless eyes wide, their expression
insouciant.

"Is that so surprising?" snapped Bashir as he discharged the hypospray
into Keevan's neck. Against his better judgement the doctor continued.
"After what you did to those Jem'Hadar... How can you live with
yourself?"

"Ah, now I understand." Keevan nodded sagely. "You presume to judge me
by your human standards."

"No, not only humans would find what you did repugnant," Bashir
disputed. "Any decent, civilised..."

"I did what was necessary." There was an edge of steel to Keevan's
voice as he interrupted the doctor's tirade. "And remember, if it
weren't for the comm system I provided, you and your fellows would
still be stuck on that miserable planet with a group of desperate
Jem'Hadar soldiers - if you had managed to evade them and remain
alive, of course," he finished with a hint of smugness.

"I don't accept that!" retorted Bashir. "Any of it! We would have
found the means to send a message anyway. As you pointed out once, we
had one of those 'famed Starfleet engineers' with us." How did the
Vorta know so unerringly which buttons to push, a part of the doctor
wondered? But, even knowing that he was being manipulated - though to
what end he wasn't sure - Bashir declined to back down.

"It's not your insufferable sense of superiority that really gets me
though," he persisted angrily. "It's your utter disregard for... You
had the complete loyalty of those Jem'Hadar. They wouldn't disobey you
even to save their own lives. Did you know Captain Sisko told them you
had betrayed them by revealing their attack plan? It made no
difference to them though. They still followed your orders, obeyed
without question until we had shot every last one of them down. And
why? Not because you were a good commander or a fair leader - simply
because you were a Vorta and that was 'the order of things'."

"It was as it should be," countered Keevan. "I was wrong about one
thing though. I should have made Remata'klan First. He was deserving
of the honour."

"I don't believe you!" cried Bashir. "None of it means anything to
you." Keevan watched Bashir dispassionately and noted the anger
flaring in the hazel eyes. However, he remained unmoved by the
doctor's words.

"Of course it means nothing, doctor," Keevan replied at last. "It's
bred into them. They know nothing else." Bashir shook his head in
disbelief at the Vorta's calm, even offhand dismissal of the
Jem'Hadar.

"They're not animals..." he whispered.

"No, but they are dependant upon the White. Disloyalty to us would
have severe consequences - and they're intelligent enough to know
that, doctor," the Vorta pointed out reasonably.

"Does anything touch you?" asked Bashir with a frown. He felt suddenly
very tired and jaded. Why was he having this conversation? Keevan
merely gave a dismissive wave of his hand.

"In this situation there was nothing to..." he began.

"No, I don't just mean in circumstances like those," said Bashir
quickly. "I mean - life in general. Does a Vorta ever actually feel
anything? Your reactions, they always seems so studied, just a
facade."

Bashir stared at the composed and, yes, beautiful face of the alien
lying motionless on the couch and felt again the thread of unease
inside himself. Where had that question come from - and more to the
point why had he voiced it? He had done everything that was required
of him as a doctor so why hadn't he left? Why did he feel compelled to
remain, to try and understand what was going on inside the Vorta's
head?

Keevan smiled as he saw the faint confusion in Bashir's expression.
This line of conversation was worth encouraging.

"Are you implying, doctor, that the Vorta have no emotions - that we
are heartless?" enquired Keevan. His tone gently mocked the doctor.

"I don't recall noticing you had one - a heart that is," muttered
Bashir, "- and I don't mean while I was operating on you."

"So, we're back to this again," sighed Keevan. "I thought we had
already established that you don't approve of what I chose to do. Must
we really cover old ground once more?"

"I am a doctor. It's my job to save lives. I never approve of
senseless, needless killing," stated Bashir flatly.

"There was no other choice," insisted the Vorta irritatedly.

"No." The doctor shook his head denying it. "I could have sedated
them, slowed down the effects of withdrawal..."

"I don't think so," scoffed Keevan. "Your knowledge of the Jem'Hadar
is necessarily limited."

Bashir almost opened his mouth to tell Keevan that his knowledge was a
damned sight more extensive than the smug little bastard knew, but he
clamped his lips shut with an effort. No, it would be a strategic
error to reveal the studies he had done on the young Jem'Hadar who had
been found on DS9. It would be a still greater mistake to let the
Vorta know that he had once met a Jem'Hadar who no longer needed
Ketrecel White to survive - even though the temptation to throw that
in Keevan's face was almost overwhelming. Bashir realised he'd come
much too close for comfort to letting it slip - the Vorta could
provoke him too easily - he needed to take care. Controlling the
impulse he simply murmured -

"I could at least have tried." Keevan smiled beatifically at Bashir.

"Your persistence is most commendable, doctor," he said softly. "But
without the White the Jem'Hadar were already as good as dead. I merely
granted them a quick, relatively painless death. And they died serving
the Founders."

"It was all for your benefit, not theirs!" Bashir snapped back.

"Nevertheless you should be grateful to me. A Jem'Hadar deprived too
long of White is a dangerous, uncontrollably vicious creature..."
Keevan pointed out. Bashir would have none of it.

"...and without the White you have no hold, no control over them," he
sneered. "They would have killed you too!"

"That is very true," conceded the Vorta, "and as you already well
know, I have no desire to die. Which leads me once again to express my
gratitude to you, doctor, for saving my life."

"And forgive me," said Bashir, his voice dripping sarcasm, "if I
remind you that, coming from you, that really doesn't mean a great
deal to me."

"You certainly don't like me very much, do you, doctor?" Strangely
Keevan's voice held a definite note of amusement.

"Not really," agreed Bashir coldly, "but I fail to see why you find
that funny."

"Oh, it's just that when you are with me your body language sends such
mixed messages, doctor. With your words you tell me that you dislike
me, and yet some part of you is - curious. Not only that, but you find
that fact, shall we say, unsettling." Keevan's pale eyes regarded the
doctor with interest.

"Curious?" echoed Bashir, staring back at the Vorta doubtfully.

"I have noticed you - observing me," elaborated Keevan, "especially
when you believed I would not notice you doing so."

"You're imagining things," said Bashir with a harsh bark of laughter.
"Most likely I was just taking medical scans; that's what doctors do."

"Without a tricorder? Oh, I do disturb your equilibrium, doctor, don't
I?" pressed Keevan a trifle smugly. "Tell me, why did you leave the
infirmary so abruptly earlier?"

"Because I was sick and tired of listening to your incessant chatter,"
snapped Bashir, "and frankly I'm beginning to get the same impulse
right now! Your readings are returning to normal. You have no further
need of my services as a doctor so, if you don't mind, I shall bid you
good evening, Keevan."

Bashir turned away and began to pack his instruments back into the
medkit as fast as he could. The sooner he was out of this room the
better he would feel. He drew in a deep breath. Damn right the Vorta
was unsettling him, but just because Keevan had a pleasing face and a
not unattractive body didn't mean Bashir wanted to fuck him. The
doctor felt a chill run down his spine. Where the hell had that notion
come from? Of course he wasn't interested in the Vorta in that way! He
was with Garak, and happy to be so. He had no need of another lover -
least of all an untrustworthy snake like Keevan!

"Doctor," the beguiling, honey-sweet voice seemed to wrap itself
around Bashir like silk, "tell me something... The Cardassian - he is
yours, is he not?" The doctor whirled, almost knocking the medkit on
the floor in his shock. Was Keevan telepathic, to know he had been
thinking about Garak?

"I beg your pardon?" Bashir was distressed to hear the quaver in his
voice.

"Garak - the Cardassian who was with your unit - you and he are
together, are you not?" There was what appeared to be a genuine note
of interest in the Vorta's tone.

"I..." Bashir searched Keevan's face, trying to understand the Vorta's
apparent curiosity about his choice of lover. "I don't see it's any
business of yours!" he finally managed indignantly.

"Then it is true," said Keevan equably. "You would not be so defensive
otherwise." He smiled pleasantly.

"And if it is? Why does it matter to you to know?" Bashir found his
heart beating faster, suddenly afraid of the Vorta's answer.

"Oh, I like to get to know those around me - to understand them,"
Keevan replied. "Don't you? And the better I get to know you, doctor,
the more fascinating I find you." Bashir shook his head, rejecting the
Vorta's explanation. "Is it really so surprising that I would wish to
find at least one friend in my captivity?" finished Keevan reasonably.

"No, I suppose not," admitted Bashir, wondering if perhaps he had been
overreacting.

He turned away to regain his composure and Keevan allowed his lips to
curve in triumph. The young doctor really was so easy to manipulate.
He would be - useful, and it shouldn't require too much more
manoeuvring to secure his co-operation.

"Keevan, how - how did you know about Garak and I?" Bashir asked, his
curiosity piqued. "While we were on the mission we never..."

"Oh, I saw it in his eyes whenever the two of you were in the same
place together. Your Cardassian speaks far more eloquently with his
eyes than with his mouth," Keevan observed. He laughed as Bashir
glanced at him, surprised. "Evidently you didn't need me to tell you
that," the Vorta continued. "Actually though, I believe I knew it the
very first time I spoke to him of you."

"You talked to Garak - about me?" Bashir queried disbelievingly.

"Not directly, you understand," Keevan explained. "It was when I
sought medical help - back on the planet. When I asked the Cardassian
if there was a doctor in your unit his reaction was - interesting. He
obviously perceived a threat to you and his concern revealed itself in
his face. I thought then it was unusual for one of his race to be
concerned for the wellbeing of a human. It signified that there was
more than met the eye to his connection with you. Of course, I
understand it now."

"You're very perceptive," said Bashir carefully.

"Yes." Keevan accepted the compliment as his due. "It is necessary for
a Vorta to be aware of everything going on around him." He propped
himself up on one elbow, leaning towards the doctor. "We serve the
Founders by facilitating their interaction with other races. To do
that we must understand people, be capable of learning how best to
fulfill their needs."

"Oh?" breathed Bashir. With an effort he broke eye contact with the
Vorta, uncomfortable with the suddenly intense stare. Keevan sat back,
allowing the withdrawal, but still watching the doctor closely.

"I notice, doctor, that you seem a little less hostile towards me
now," commented Keevan conversationally.

"I wouldn't read too much into that," cautioned Bashir, a little
confused by the apparent non sequitur.

"No? What should I make of the fact that your breathing has quickened
appreciably then? Or the way that you seem to find looking at me,
meeting my eyes, so disconcerting?" asked Keevan, and his voice was
now low and persuasive. "I am not unaware of your species' need for
physical gratification..."

"What?" Bashir reacted as if he had been burnt. He was incensed at
what the Vorta appeared to be implying. His eyes flashed dangerously.
"Let's get this straight, I have no intention of going to bed with you
- or any other Vorta for that matter!"

"I wasn't aware that I had suggested you should," murmured Keevan
innocently. Bashir glared at him sceptically.

"Anyway, I thought your people used cloning techniques. I wouldn't
have thought that left any need for sex." Despite his irritation the
doctor couldn't quite disguise his interest in the subject.

"Yes, the Vorta are cloned, but it hasn't always been so." Keevan
could see that the doctor was curious in spite of himself. It made his
task that much easier. "In fact the Vorta were always considered to
have a certain - talent in the area of seduction and the giving of
pleasure."

"I can imagine," murmured Bashir before he could stop himself. A hint
of satisfaction crept into Keevan's expression. This really was too
easy, like playing a fish on a line. He would allow the doctor the
illusion of control and, when the moment was right, reel him in...

"We have learned to be - persuasive," continued Keevan. "And from time
to time the Founders have found uses for these skills."

"So now you think you're going to use them to seduce me?" laughed
Bashir. "I don't think so, Keevan."

"Are you really so sure about that, doctor?" The Vorta's large, pale
eyes snared Bashir's. He smiled reassuringly, showing his even white
teeth. "The experience would not be unpleasant I assure you."

"Why? What do you - want... from me?" asked Bashir haltingly.

"Want? I want nothing... but your pleasure." Keevan's musical voice
seemed to come from a great distance.

Bashir blinked rapidly. Keevan's face seemed to fill his vision and
all he could hear was that soft voice, gentle and encouraging. For
some reason it was hard to think straight, but it didn't seem to
matter to the doctor. He was so tired. He needed to sleep and that
beautiful voice was speaking softly of rest... He really wanted to lie
down. Vaguely Bashir was aware of movement at his side. Keevan had
risen from the couch and taken hold of his arm. The Vorta was guiding
him to sit. Yes, just for a moment...

"That's better, isn't it, doctor?" Keevan whispered as he pressed the
doctor back against the cushions, one pale hand gently caressing
Bashir's brow. "The past few months have drained you, emotionally and
physically. You need time to forget. You want to put aside your cares,
the realities of this terrible war, don't you?"

"Yes," Bashir murmured, entranced. His hazel eyes were unfocused and
all he was consciously aware of was the sound of the Vorta's voice and
the touch of his hands. Somewhere deep inside a small, rational part
of Bashir's brain screamed that this was wrong - that he was being
manipulated and used. However his body, which was now being swiftly
and skillfully undressed by Keevan, simply didn't care. It craved the
sensations being offered and gave no thought to the motives of the one
providing them.

The Vorta carefully controlled the progress of the doctor's arousal.
He watched the changes in the slender, dusky-skinned form with merely
clinical interest. For Keevan this was simply a means to an end. He
might be a prisoner of the Federation, but that did not mean that he
was incapable of exerting influence. Bashir had already proved
tractable and this would give him an even greater hold over the human.
Once he was brought to release the doctor would remember everything
with a terrible clarity...

For now Keevan concentrated on pleasuring Bashir, playing him like an
instrument. The Vorta stimulated the long, slim cock until it was
fully erect. He toyed with the doctor's sensitive, chocolate brown
nipples until Bashir thrashed and moaned from the intensity of the
sensations. Keevan's eyes glittered as he enjoyed his moment of
triumph. To have the doctor so completely in thrall - so much for his
antagonism and all those self-righteous denunciations now!

Judging his moment, the Vorta grasped Bashir's swollen cock with one
hand, the heavy scrotum in the other and squeezed firmly. The doctor
cried out; he arched up off the couch as he exploded into orgasm, his
creamy seed pulsing out onto his stomach. Keevan sat back on his heels
and watched Bashir's convulsions, observing him as if he were some
laboratory specimen. As he did so, the Vorta's lips curved upward in a
small, self-satisfied smile.

Slowly Bashir came back to his senses. With awareness came the dawning
realisation of what had just happened to him. Heart pounding he pushed
himself up on one elbow and found himself face to face with his
tormentor, Keevan. The Vorta's smug expression was too much for
Bashir.

"No!!" The doctor shook his head in vehement denial.

"No? I don't recall you saying that a few moments ago," observed
Keevan significantly. Bashir glanced down at himself. The truth of the
Vorta's words was apparent - the undeniable evidence lay pooled on his
stomach, the semen gradually drying on his skin.

"You bastard!" he hissed furiously. "What did you do to me?"

"I would have thought that was obvious," countered the Vorta, "but it
was nothing you didn't want."

"No, that's a lie! I had no control. You did - something to me,"
shouted Bashir angrily. "I didn't want - this!" One hand gestured
helplessly, indicating the sticky aftermath.

"Your body appears to have thought otherwise," Keevan pointed out
reasonably. Barely in control of his temper Bashir scrambled to his
feet, glaring down at the still kneeling Vorta in utter distaste.

"I should - so help me, but I should kill you for this!" Bashir's
voice was like ice. Not one of his friends or colleagues would have
recognised the doctor, with the look of undiluted hatred which
currently contorted his handsome face.

"I think you should leave, doctor," said Keevan, equally coldly. "I do
not like to be threatened. If you do it again I shall have no choice
but to call the guards..."

"You wouldn't dare... I..." whispered Bashir.

Before Bashir knew what was happening the Vorta threw himself across
the floor at the doctor's feet. With quick movements of his hands
Keevan ripped open his tunic and trousers, baring his body to Bashir's
uncomprehending gaze. He glanced up at the human, an expression of
triumph on his face.

"If I cry out now, doctor, what will they think?" asked Keevan coolly.
"In our current state, which of us would appear to be the aggressor -
to uninformed eyes?"

"Damn you to hell, you bastard!" Bashir's voice cracked as he stared
at the Vorta in impotent fury. Keevan's intent was now only too clear
and the doctor had to admit that it was the perfect set up.

Wanting only to get as far away as possible from the Vorta as quickly
as he could, Bashir turned on his heel and snatched up his clothes. He
pulled them on viciously, without attempting to clean away the
evidence of his encounter with Keevan first. As soon as he was dressed
the doctor grabbed his medkit and stormed from the room, not caring
about the odd looks the security team gave him as he strode away.
Belatedly Bashir realised the guards would probably check on their
prisoner after his abrupt departure, but he could do nothing about
that now. He was in Keevan's hands - as the Vorta had intended he
should be.

When, as Bashir had suspected they would, the security men
investigated they simply observed Keevan straightening his clothes,
his back to the door. The Vorta's face wore a satisfied expression as
he assured them that nothing was amiss - he and the doctor had merely
had a difference of opinion over his treatment, owing to the human's
lack of knowledge of Vorta physiology. It was a perfectly reasonable
explanation and the guards accepted it at face value and left.

Bashir hurried blindly back to his quarters. They were, blessedly,
empty. Garak must be out on some mission about the starbase still,
perhaps a further debriefing session. Whatever the reason the doctor
was grateful to find himself alone as he dropped his medkit onto the
table and hurried into the bedroom. With trembling hands he stripped
off his uniform, wadded it into a tight ball and hurled it with all
his strength into the corner of the room.

His head ached blindingly. How had Keevan managed to control his
actions like that? It was as if he'd been drugged and entirely without
volition. Was it some telepathic talent the Vorta possessed? Or
pheremones? Bashir had no idea, but his total capitulation had been
utterly humiliating. Shaking his head in an attempt to clear it, the
doctor headed for the shower. He felt unspeakably dirtied - in body
and mind. Perhaps the water could somehow wash away the growing
feeling of guilt along with the dried semen still caking his skin.

Five minutes later, as Bashir stood under the cascade of scalding hot
water, the outer door to his quarters opened and Garak stepped in. He
had been searching for Bashir in the communal areas of the starbase
when he hadn't returned as arranged to meet the Cardassian. Still
unable to trace the doctor - none of his crewmates seemed to have seen
him - Garak had finally decided to return to their shared quarters.
The Cardassian had been allocated a room of his own, but Bashir's
suite was more than big enough for two people and so Garak's
accommodations remained unused. As he walked through into the bedroom
Garak heard the shower running and smiled. Julian had evidently been
called upon to work late tonight and only just returned.

Garak decided not to announce himself. Instead he would let Julian
come out of the shower - refreshed and glowing from the hot spray -
and find his lover ready and waiting in bed. The idea of surprising
the doctor was appealing and the Cardassian allowed himself a brief,
anticipatory fantasy of just how Julian might greet him as he began
to undress. As he bent to remove his boots Garak noticed Bashir's
crumpled uniform on the floor. He shook his head at Julian's
untidiness and picked it up to throw it into the cleansing unit with
his own clothing. As he did so, Garak noticed a familiar scent rising
from the material. He frowned and straightened out the wadded up
uniform.

The front of the undershirt was damp and sticky inside. The cause of
the stain was quite obvious to Garak. On one or two occasions when
they had been particularly impatient Julian's uniform had suffered a
similar fate... The Cardassian's eyes darkened with pain. It couldn't
be true - his Julian was late home because he had been in some
secluded place having sex with someone else? No, Garak refused to
believe it. Why then would the doctor have so carelessly left the
evidence for him to find? Or could it be that he simply didn't care if
the Cardassian learned of it?

Appalled at the implications of this if it were true Garak hurried
back into the main room, clutching the blue shirt to him like a
talisman. Using skills that would have horrified the Starfleet
security staff had they been aware of them the Cardassian tapped
stealthily into their systems to track Bashir's movements over the
past few hours.

What Garak discovered did nothing for his peace of mind. Julian had
gone to the quarters assigned to the Vorta prisoner and had remained
there until just a short time ago. Recalling an image of Keevan's face
the Cardassian could see how his pretty features might have caught the
doctor's eye. So, no wonder Julian was in the shower - he was washing
away the traces of his Vorta lover! Pain and anger warred for
supremacy in Garak's heart at the thought of such a betrayal. How
could Julian have done this to him?

Garak heard footsteps in the bedroom and the anger won out. He turned
and stalked into the other room to confront the doctor with what he
had discovered. Bashir was standing naked in the middle of the floor,
staring at his uniform, which Garak had left draped across the bed. He
looked up with a guilty start as the Cardassian entered. Julian's eyes
were huge in his unnaturally pale face. He regarded the blue
undershirt as if it were a particularly venomous snake as Garak
brandished it in his direction.

"Garak..." he began uncertainly. His gaze flicked nervously between
the shirt and Garak's stony features. The doctor had hoped for comfort
from his lover, not this hostile reception. As the Cardassian
continued to advance Bashir took a step backwards, heart pounding in
sudden fear. In all the time he had known Garak he had never seen a
more menacing expression on his face - not even the violent rage
during his withdrawal from the implant had been as frightening to
Bashir.

"My dear doctor," hissed Garak icily, "I'm afraid I really do prefer
my lovers to be faithful." Bashir gasped in horror as he realised the
conclusion the Cardassian had jumped to. Did Garak trust him so
little...?

"Garak you don't... Elim, I promise you, I always have been," insisted
Julian as his thoughts whirled chaotically. "This..." Dear Lord, does
he really believe I wanted this?

"Lies too? Oh, Julian, how could you think I wouldn't learn of your
tryst with the Vorta?" Garak shoved the stained blue material under
the doctor's nose again. "You have, after all, hardly been discreet!"
His pain at Julian's apparent betrayal was evident in the Cardassian's
voice.

"Keevan... How did you...?" Bashir's expression told how distraught he
was at this turn of events, but Garak could not see beyond his own
hurt.

"Ah, so now you recall it," said Garak bitterly. His eyes closed as if
he could no longer stand to look at the cause of his anguish. "While
you were supposed to be with me - as I was searching this benighted
place for you - you were sporting with the Vorta!"

"No!" Julian protested. Garak shook his head sadly. He glanced up for
just a moment at the naked human standing dejectedly such a short
distance from him. How he had cherished that lithe body...

"If this is your idea of being faithful..." snorted the Cardassian
derisively. "Tell me, is this the first time you've made a fool of me
this way? Or were you simply a little too careless on this occasion?
Have there been others before Keevan I didn't find out about? Well?"

"No, Elim..."

"Don't call me that! You no longer have the right to use that name!"
snapped Garak. The doctor recoiled from the bitterness in his voice,
but unwilling to antagonise Garak further he acquiesced.

"Garak, I swear it. Please believe me, there is no one else - only
you!" Julian was frantic. How could he convince the Cardassian he was
telling the truth? If he described what had happened with Keevan would
Garak accept that it had been totally out of Bashir's control? "Garak,
please, let me explain; this isn't what it looks like. Do you believe
me?" Garak's eyeridges rose sceptically.

"What I believe is irrelevant. Clearly something happened between you
and the Vorta - that is undeniable - and somehow I doubt you had any
plans to tell me about it," said Garak coldly. "I'm sorry, my dear
Julian, but frankly I expected better of you."

"Garak," Julian begged, "please listen to me. I would have told you -
had you given me an opportunity to do so without jumping to
conclusions! I did not want this. I'm still not even entirely sure how
it happened..."

"Don't make things worse with more lies," sighed Garak. "Keevan is a
prisoner - hardly in a position to force you into his arms
unwillingly."

"I was called to his quarters on a medical matter," insisted Bashir.
"You can check that with the Infirmary records if my word isn't good
enough for you!"

"It would have been simple enough to arrange with him in advance for
you to be called out. That's the beauty of being a doctor, isn't it,
you have the perfect excuse for making house calls at any time of the
day - or night." Garak shrugged dismissively. "And whatever other
'evidence' you have, this -" Again the undershirt was pushed at
Bashir. "- shows you engaged in sexual activity with the Vorta."

"Yes, he made me come," admitted Bashir, "but I took no active part in
what went on. I'm not even sure if I was conscious the whole time -
though I suppose I must have been. I can remember it now..." The
doctor held out a hand to Garak in mute appeal. "But it was almost as
if Keevan drugged me. I had no will of my own. I didn't recall the act
until it was all over. And then all I wanted to do was kill him, but
he threatened me - said he'd accuse me of rape! I - I just had to get
away from him - that smug smile... I had to get back here and out of
that uniform. I - I felt so - used..."

The flow of words ceased abruptly. Julian looked up to meet Garak's
eyes steadily, willing him to believe. He could see doubt in those
blue depths. The Cardassian was torn...

"Garak, I swear to you I am telling the truth. Surely you know I would
never be unfaithful to you. I love you. You're the only thing keeping
me sane through this war... I would never jeopardise what we have."
Julian fell silent again and regarded his lover solemnly.

For a long moment Garak held the doctor's gaze; then he turned away,
shaking his head in denial.

"No, I can't..." The Cardassian stood ramrod straight, his eyes
staring at nothing. He had been let down, betrayed, too many times in
his life. In the end everyone he cared for left him... "When we began
this you asked me to trust you - promised me that I could." Garak's
voice was bleak. "You knew how hard that was for me to do. All my past
experiences warned me... I should never have believed! In my heart I
knew I was a fool." Abruptly the Cardassian turned back to face
Bashir, his gaze sweeping the doctor's slender form from head to toe.

"How could I ever have imagined that such a young, beautiful creature
would be content with me?" Garak laughed bitterly. "I had even seen
the signs - how you changed once you were free to exploit your genetic
enhancements. In the face of such brilliance what could one aging,
exiled Cardassian possibly have to offer you? No, I always knew that
in time you would want more than I could give."

"My genetic alterations have nothing to do with this," insisted
Julian. "You're using that as an excuse to try and rationalise the
fact that you just don't want to trust me. You've never given any sign
until now that you had a problem with my enhancements. Well, maybe you
didn't like the fact that I was better at keeping secrets than you
thought... Anyway," added Bashir pettishly, "if anything they've
worked to your advantage - given me enough stamina to keep up with
your natural Cardassian strength! Look, Garak, I understand that it's
hard for you to trust - you've been let down before and..."

"'I will never hurt you, Elim.' I can still hear you saying those
words to me, doctor." Garak cast a sad look at Bashir. "How foolish of
me to think it would be so. There is always pain... but why subject
myself to more unnecessarily? I regret the necessity for this; I
thought what was between us... I'm only sorry I was not enough for
you."

"Garak, that isn't true," cried Julian."I have no interest in Keevan
or anyone else. I love you. Please - don't leave me. I need you."

"I will return to the quarters that were assigned to me, doctor. I
really think it would be for the best," said Garak stiffly. "Why
prolong this now that you have tired of me?" He looked down at the
crumpled blue material he still clutched in one grey hand. With a
grimace of distaste he tossed it at Bashir. Instinctively the doctor
put out a hand and caught the shirt. "I'm sorry, but I won't act the
fool for any longer than I have already. Good day to you." Garak gave
a stilted bow, then turned on his heel and walked away.

Bashir simply stood and stared after the Cardassian, bereft. With a
note of finality Julian heard the outer door to his quarters swoosh
shut. Shock made the doctor's knees buckle and he sank to the floor.

"No!" The word came out as an anguished wail. "No, Garak, please...
Come back!" Tears threatened as Julian fixed his gaze on the door
which had closed on Garak's retreating figure.

It did not reopen.

---

The End