The BLTS Archive - Covert Operations
by ARM

---

DISCLAIMER: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine is copyright by Paramount, a
subsidiary  of Viacom. This story is for fan enjoyment only and is not
intended to  infringe on that copyright. Please do not distribute this
story without the  express consent of the author. You may print out a
copy for yourself provided  that the story and header remain
unaltered.

WARNING: This story is rated NC-17 and includes sex between two
characters of the same gender. If such offends you please go no
further.  Otherwise have fun.  It also includes some mild language
because O'Brien is working with Cardassian technology.

(Personally, I am beginning to suspect that *my* computer was built by
Cardassians.)

This story takes place sometime between "The Adversary" and "Empok
Nor".

---

"Bloody piece of Cardassian junk," Chief Miles O'Brien muttered at his
workstation.  He had spent the past week trying to finally rid the
computer of all the useless Cardassian files from when the station had
been Terok Nor.  It was going even slower than he had expected, but he
was nevertheless thankful that the station was still intact.  Aside
from some strange replicator malfunctions two days ago his cleaning
job had not produced any adverse reactions for anyone other than the
Chief.

"Computer halt.  Wait a minute.  What is this?"  O'Brien noticed a
file that had almost escaped his detection.  It was well hidden among
the deepest code in the computer.  "I should probably look at this
thing. Bloody hell."

"O'Brien to Sisko," the Chief tapped his combadge.

Go ahead," the Captain sounded stressed.

"Captain, I thought I should warn you that I am found a well hidden
file in the central computer. I am going to try to find out exactly
what it is,"  the Chief explained.

"So if the station explodes, I know what caused it. Carry on, Chief,"
Sisko sighed.  "Sisko out.

O'Brien had learned long ago to be wary of the Cardassian built
central computer and even after all the modifications he had made
over the years he still did not completely trust it.  It took him a
half an hour before  he felt  it was safe to open the file.

"Computer open file, Gul-J-B-E-G-Alpha," O'Brien instructed, praying
silently.

The computer obediently opened the file and O'Brien sat back stunned
and furious.  After all this trouble, he had simply accessed a text
file of a soldier's last words to someone.  Despite himself, O'Brien
found himself skimming the log.  As much as he hated Cardassians, he
was curious as to who would hide such a message so deeply in the
computer.  The point of such messages was to be able to access them.

O'Brien caught a few words as he skimmed it. 'Unsure of cause of
death'.  Standard.  'Don't take my death too hard.'  Yeah, yeah.
'Julian.'

O'Brien drew in his breath.  Julian?  As in Julian Bashir, the Chief
Medical Officer on the station?  It suddenly dawned on the Chief that
he was  likely looking at Garak's final words to Julian.  The Chief
knew that the tailor's message was none of his business, but he
couldn't help himself.  He went back and read the message.  Most of
it was full of the same evasive statements that only Julian
appreciated along with a quick list of what he wanted done with his
stuff.  O'Brien, already feeling guilty, was about to close the log,
when something caused him to draw in his breath.

"Julian, I know this will not be easy for you to read, but you have
the  right to know at least one truth.  I love you and have ever since
you  stayed  with me after removing my implant.  By Cardassian
standards, you were a  fool, but I am not just a Cardassian.  I am
also a foolish old exile.  I never spoke up for fear of jeopardizing
our friendship which means more to me than you can possibly image.  Or
maybe you  can.  Your imagination tends to run away with you.  Live
long, Julian."

O'Brien continued to stare at the message in shock, disgusted.  The
idea of the Cardassian tailor being in love with his friend Bashir
made him ill.  Closing the message, he considered deleting it, but
Garak would just write another message.

It suddenly occurred to the Chief that he was privy to information
which was none of his business. Should he inform Julian?  Or should
be keep his mouth  shut?  Julian's friendship with the tailor was none
of his business, but he felt an obligation to look out for Julian.

---

"What was it you wanted to see me about, Chief?" Bashir asked, concern
only partially masking his natural optimism and energy.  It was rare
for the Chief to voluntarily venture into the infirmary.

"I was cleaning out some files in the computer and found something you
might be interested in."  The Chief handed Bashir a PADD with a copy
of the  message.

"Is it the Cardassian medical files?" Bashir asked, excited.

"Not exactly.  I need to get back to Ops," the Chief said and quickly
turned.

"Thanks, Chief," Bashir called out after him.

Curious, Bashir accessed the file. As he read it, he grew paler.
Garak in love with him?  This had to be a joke.  Except that it had
been hidden in the central computer.

Bashir suddenly grew extremely angry at O'Brien.  The Chief had
absolutely no right to read this note.  Bashir's face flamed at the
thought of the Chief knowing how Garak felt about him, especially
considering the Chief's opinion of Cardassians.  Worse, how could the
Chief give this to him?  This message was Garak's to give him.

Leaning back in his chair, Bashir tried to sort out his own feelings
regarding the tailor.  Bashir had to admit that he had indulged in
more than one fantasy regarding the tailor, but he assumed that they
were just wishful thinking on the part of a naive young man. When he
first met Garak he had suspected that the older man was coming onto
him, but as they became closer friends he began to doubt his original
assumption.  He had viewed Garak as a friend for so long that the idea
of him becoming more made him nervous.  Of course, all of this assumed
that Garak would indeed be interested when the possibility was a
reality instead of a message from a dead man.

'If he asked, what would you say?' Bashir asked himself.  His first
response was panic, but as he thought about it he realized that he
might well say yes.  As he thought positive thoughts about Garak his
thoughts towards the Chief became even more negative.

---

"Chief, why the hell did you read that message?"  Bashir asked, livid.
He had gone to the O'Brien's quarters as soon as his shift ended and
the Chief, who had the same shift, had let him in. The Chief had a
shrewd idea what the doctor wanted to talk to him about, but he could
not ignore the young man indefinitely.

"I have been cleaning out old files the Cardies left behind in the
central computer-" O'Brien started.

"Cardies?  Chief, how many times do I have to ask you not to use that
racist term in my company?"  Bashir's face was rapidly turning red and
it was beginning to make Chief O'Brien dizzy.  He could not recall
ever seeing  Bashir  so furious, certainly not at him.

"Fine.  I was cleaning out old files left by the Cardassians - "
O'Brien  drew out the word making it sound like even more of a slur
than Cardies.  "I found a file hidden within the deepest code in the
central computer.  Considering the mess we had a while back with the
anti-insurgency program, I thought I should check it out before
accessing it.  I spent half an hour playing with the computer to
retrieve it.  I had every right to read it.  We need more computer
space."

"More computer space? Miles, I saw the file.  A two page text file
does not use up enough computer space to hide a vole," Bashir
countered.  "Would you have done the same if it had been addressed to
Starfleet Command from Captain  Sisko?"

"Then it would have been within the newer sections of the computer,"
O'Brien defended himself.  "When I saw that it was a log, I assumed
that it was from a Cardie soldier who left after the occupation.  I
was planning to skim it to make sure there was no information
Starfleet needed  to know.  Then I planned to delete it.  How was I
supposed to know it was a love letter from Garak?  Julian, I am sorry
he feels that way about you."

"Even if you saw it, you had no right to show it to me.  This 'love
letter' as you put it is Garak's and it was his business whether or
not I actually saw it.  Look, you and Garak are my two closest friends
on this  station.  I know you don't get along so I keep my friendships
with each of you separate and lately I have been seeing more of you
than him.  I won't let the two of you use me as a pawn.  Now, I
respect you greatly Miles Edward O'Brien, but I can look out for
myself and right now I have to wonder if you have any respect
for me."  Bashir's eyes were blazing.

Chief O'Brien looked uncomfortable.  The truth was he greatly
respected Dr. Bashir, but it was difficult for him to show it. "I
didn't mean to  get you so upset.  I thought you had a right to know."

"And what do you want me to do with that knowledge?"  Bashir snapped.
"Ignore him?  That's what you want, isn't it?  You would certainly
hate for me to take him up on it."

"Julian, you can't possibly be interested in him," O'Brien argued.

"Of course not," Bashir lied.  "But I am friends with him and this
note makes that friendship more complicated.  Next time don't do me
any favors."

"As you wish," O'Brien snapped.  He had a terrible temper and his
guilt only made it worse.  He had not been fair to Bashir and he knew
it.  The truth was he desperately wanted Bashir to stop being friends
with the Cardassian.

"Good day," Bashir turned and left.

Bashir stormed down the halls to his own quarters.  He was too furious
to think straight.  He considered trying to find someone on the
Promenade to take his mind off his problems, but he was too angry to
flirt.

He found himself standing in front of his replicator considering
getting seriously drunk.

"No," Bashir scolded himself.  "You are a doctor.  You know better
than that.  You are not going to turn to alcohol."

Bashir found himself pounding his fist into his hand considering his
options.  He really had no idea what to do with himself.  He did not
get seriously angry often, but when he did it did not pass quickly.
Finally on impulse he decided to see if synthahol would do any good.
If a medical emergency or something came up he could always sober up
quickly and if he wanted, the synthahol should dull his emotions.

---

Bashir was not consciously aware of how long he sat there staring out
at the stars.  They were beautiful.  He had always loved the stars.
Back home he would sit outside for hours looking at them and dreaming
of touching everyone of them.  He was thankful that he lived in a time
when such things were possible.  For most of human history, humans had
been confined to earth.

Slowly the combination of the stars and synthahol conspired to drain
his  anger and he drifted off into a daze.  He felt empty and
confused, but it was better than feeling angry.  He wanted someone
to make things alright, but he knew he was much to old for that type
of thinking.  He was an adult.  He needed to act like one.

It finally his daze penetrated that someone was standing behind him.
"Garak?"

The tailor looked at the doctor with concern.  He had heard through
the gossip mill that Chief O'Brien had found an important file in the
bowels of the station's computer that somehow involved a member of the
senior  staff.  Garak checked the message he left for Bashir and found
it had been accessed.  The doctor's shifting eyes confirmed that he
had indeed gotten the message.  "You did not answer me when I rang
despite the fact the computer assured me that you were in your
quarters.  I thought something might have happened."

"No, I just, uh, wanted to be alone," Bashir said awkwardly.

"And I am the last person you want to see," Garak prompted.  For once
the  tailor sounded his own age and extremely tired.

"No, that would be Miles," Bashir said without thinking. As soon as
the words came out of his mouth he realized his error and tried to
sober up.  He had drunk quite an amount of synthahol.

The tailor waited patiently.

"Why did you stick the file so deep within the computer? I would never
have found it.  Did you never intend for me to know?" Bashir asked,
avoiding the real subject.

"I set it to activate when Julian Bashir signed my death certificate,"
Garak explained.

"How could you know I would be the one to do it?" Bashir asked.

"I know you. You would insist on it to make sure there hadn't been a
way to prevent my death.  You don't need to sign the death certificate
for everyone who dies on this station, but you do whenever you can.
You would  certainly insist on signing mine," Garak informed the
doctor.  "Really doctor, do you have to look so disgusted at the idea?
Have I ever forced myself on you?  I have been willing to remain
friends with you and I am still willing to do so.  Can you not accept
me even as a simple friend?  Or have you decided that Cardassians are
too alien to be friends with Terrans?"

Bashir looked up from his hands.  "No, I don't want to be simply
friends with you."

"I am sorry to hear that," the tailor's look was utterly crush
fallen and his hands shook. "In that case my I wish you good-bye,
dear doctor.  Have a wonderful life."

"Don't go," Bashir called, sounding panicked. This was not turning out
as  he had planned and he regretted his decision.

"But you said-" the tailor questioned.

"I said I did not want to be simply friends, but I never said I
wanted you to leave.  Think of it as a puzzle.  What am I asking of
you?" Bashir asked, his eyes sparking for the first time since
O'Brien gave him the message.

"Something I never dared to hope for?" Garak asked, a faint hint of
genuine excitement in his voice.

"Say it," Bashir ordered.

"Doctor," Garak begged sounding pained.  Admitting things was
difficult for him.  He preferred to let his actions speak for
themselves.

"I want to hear you say it.  So far you have told me about myself.
I want to hear about you," Bashir said.  "Oh, I know you won't ever
tell me about your past or half of your present, but when it comes
to me, maybe to us, can you at least be honest.  If you can not
then friendship is all that I can offer you."

Swallowing hard, Garak tried to smile.  "When you put it that way,
how can I resist?  I believe that you are suggesting that we become
more than friends."

"You win," Bashir smiled broadly.  The smile sent a jolt of emotion
through the tailor.  The doctor was stunningly beautiful.

"What did I win?" Garak asked teasingly.

"Me," Bashir's voice was serious.

"A wonderful prize, but doctor how much have you had to drink?"  Garak
asked.

"Of synthahol?"  Bashir raised an eyebrow.

Garak smiled. "I had trouble picturing you getting drunk when you are
on call 24 hours a day."

"Well, that maybe true, but tonight I am definitely off call." Bashir
took his communicator off his uniform and put it on a table.

"Who am I to get in the way of your relaxation?" Garak questioned.
This evening was turning out much better than he had anticipated.

Bashir decided that the tailor looked too in control and decided to
try to rectify the situation.  Walking over to the tailor he reached
out and rubbed the spoon shaped depression on the tailor's forehead.
He hoped that popular gossip was correct as to its purpose as a
erogenous zone.

Garak's control slipped and he growled insistently, thrusting his hip.
Bashir drew back surprised.  Apparently it was even more sensitive
than he had imaged.

"You do know what you are doing?" Garak asked, deciding that the
doctor really needed to shed his clothes.

"If getting you hard is what I am doing then yes.  I always wondered
about all your ridges.  What would happen if I ran my fingers over
them?"  Bashir asked, running his fingers over them.

Unable to resist any longer, the tailor reached over and caressed the
doctor's cheek.  "Now, I do wish you would allow me to undress you."

"Patience, Garak.  Aren't you the one who is always lecturing me about
savoring the moment?" Bashir teased.  He would have loved to allow the
tailor to do as he pleased, but it really was more erotic to stretch
the moment.

Like a hawk, Garak brought his mouth down over Bashir's mouth, but
there  was nothing threatening about it.  Garak's hunger for the
doctor was obvious as was his Cardassian libido, but he was not an
animal.  He was an intelligent being who genuinely cared about the
doctor.  The tailor wrapped his arms around the doctor and growled as
he felt the doctor's lips part willingly.

As the tailor's arms closed around him, the doctor was forcibly
reminded of the tailor's strength.  He was used to being the stronger
partner.  Most of the women he picked up on the Promenade were not as
fit as him.  Palis was his last girlfriend whose strength approached
his own and he was surprised to find himself comforted by the
tailor's strength.  Jadzia might be as strong,  but Bashir had never
gotten this far with Jadzia.  He was used to being intimidated by
strength, but it could also be secure. His body relaxed against the
tailor and his own arousal began to make itself known.

Garak felt his dear doctor relax against him and sighed.  Bashir was a
talented kisser and Garak felt the hormones surging through his
blood.  Finally the tailor could stand it no longer and started to
remove the doctor's uniform.  This time Bashir did not protest, but
simply concentrated on the feel of the tailor's talented hands over
his sensitized skin.

Garak stood back to admire the smooth Caramel coloring of his
beloved doctor.  His light eyes devoured the doctor.  "Dear doctor,
you are truly  beautiful."

"Thank you," Bashir said.  Normally having someone stare at him made
him uncomfortable, but in this case he found it arousing.  "Please
call me Julian.  It is my name and a name I chose for myself.  Someone
else invented the word doctor."

"As you wish, Julian," Garak breathed.  "Although I admit I do think
of you as a doctor.  That is who you are."

"I am a doctor, but here I am a man," Julian stated hoping he did not
sound as stupid as he felt.  The look on Garak's face reassured him.
"Now, I believe it is my turn to undress you."

Garak stood still as Bashir undressed him focusing on the doctor's
fingers.

Bashir admired the tailor as he undressed him.  The Cardassian's
genitals particularly intrigued him, being so much smoother than his
own.  The lack of  body hair was also different, but in Julian's eyes
the tailor was  quite handsome.  "You are as attractive as I
expected."

Taking advantage of the doctor's distraction, Garak dropped down on
his knees in front of the doctor and closed his mouth over the
doctor's erection.  The doctor's immediate vocal reaction amused him
and the doctor's hands grasping his neck ridges only increased his
own arousal.  Finally after an eternity and all too soon the doctor
came spilling his seed in Garak's mouth as waves of pleasure ripped
through him.  Finally, his knees sagged and Garak gently cradled him.

"That was wonderful.  Thank you, Garak," Bashir said snuggling in.  He
liked to cuddle.  Then it dawned on him. "You should have told me
that you were not satisfied.  Stand up."

Painfully hard, Garak stood.  The doctor, more nervous than he wanted
to  admit, ran his hands over the tailor's erection.  He really
did plan to take it into his mouth, but the tailor came, crying out
Julian's name.  Bashir tenderly held the tailor, kissing his cheeks
as the waves of pleasure faded.  Both men were sweaty and tired, but
they did not care.  Soon the tailor added his mouth to the equation
and both men were soon quite aroused.

Bashir bent down, planning to take the tailor's resurgent erection in
his  mouth, but Garak stopped him.  "No, I want to be inside you."

Bashir considered the request for a moment.  He had to admit it made
him  nervous.  "Ok, but I, uh, am not sure what to do.  I have never
been with a man before."

Garak raised both eye ridges.  "Doctor, are you sure?  You have
preformed quite admirably so far."

Bashir blushed.  "Thank you, but I am sure."

"Very well.  Let's make you comfortable," Garak took Bashir's hand
and  maneuvered him over to the bed.  Fussing with the pillows he
piled them up and lay Bashir on them.  Slowly he started massaging
the doctor's back until he relaxed.  He noticed a vial of oil on the
dresser and smiled.

"Do you always have this on your dresser?" he asked teasingly.

Bashir blushed. "It has been there for a while.  And it gets used much
less often than some people would have you believe."

"Don't worry, doctor," Garak smiled. "I don't believe station gossip.
Would you like to prepare me?"

Bashir smiled and slowly coated the tailor's erection.  Finally,
satisfied  he turned over.  The tailor gave the doctor's back one more
massage and slowly entered.  Both men groaned.  It was better than
their wildest fantasies.

"Elim, I never imaged it would feel so good," Bashir sighed.

"Never has my given name sounded more beautiful and like yours it is
truly my given name," the tailor questioned.

Bashir wondered at the tailor's comment, but thinking was next to
impossible.  Besides, Garak had always been mysterious.  That was part
of his charm and what had originally attracted Bashir.

Garak was almost tender in his care of his precious doctor and took
the time to massage the doctor's own lengthening erection, but both
men were quite  aroused and Garak soon came.  His cries caused
Julian's own climax and the two cried out each other's names in a
beautiful duet.

When the pleasure faded, leaving both men exhausted the tailor
withdrew.  Julian lay his head on the tailor's chest and Garak held
him.  Both were completely content.

"I owe him an apology," Bashir muttered sleepily.

"Excuse me?" Garak questioned.

"I owe Miles an apology.  I yelled at him for sticking his nose in
something that was none of his business, but because of that note I
ended up having the best evening of my life," Bashir admitted.

"Do you truly mean that, Julian?" the tailor asked intently.

"Yes, I do," Bashir sighed. "I just hope it isn't the last."

"It won't be," the tailor said. He thought about how much he loved
Julian, but he still could not say the words aloud.  Maybe next time.

"Are you going to tell him about us?" Garak asked.

"I keep my friendships with both of you separate so I see no reason to
tell him, but if I have my way with you he will figure it out," Bashir
smiled.

"I look forward to you having your way with me," Garak said
ironically.  "I never thought I would say that to anyone. Julian, what
have you done to  me?"

"Taught you to care, I hope.  It can hurt, but it can also be
wonderful," Julian explained.  "If I didn't care about you this night
would solely have been about good sex and it would fade from memory.
Instead I intend to remember it for the rest of  my life."

"You do have a point," the tailor admitted although he intended to
care for nobody, but Julian.  "Maybe there is hope for you and
humanity yet."

"I am so glad to hear it.  Good night, Elim and please stay the night.
I  want to wake up still in your arms," Julian asked.

"You can, Julian.  For as many mornings as you wish," the tailor said.
"Sleep well, Julian."

---

The End