The BLTS- The Persistence of Memory by Keelywolfe (keelywolfe@aol.com) --- This story occurs way before the series begins during the occupation of Bajor. Disclaimers: Oh mighty Paramount, who doth own the following characters, please do not sue me, as I have no money to payeth thee anyway. Permission granted to archive in the usual places. For any unusual places, just ask, I'm pretty laid back. The title, The Persistence of Memory, comes from a favorite painting of mine by Salvador Dali. If you'd like to see it, you can go to http://www.nol.net/~nil/dali/persist.html --- The loud burble of conversation and laughter filled the room as the party continued. Several people were already more than a little drunk and they wove in and out of the crowd adding to the already loose atmosphere. One particular person stood off to the side, quietly sipping his drink and watching the goings on. "Gul Garak! I hope your having a good time!" Garak grimaced as the host of the little, 'celebration' lumbered toward him. He had very little patience with Entek when he wasn't drunk, much less when he was. He gave the other Cardassian a polite smile. "Oh, quite a good time I assure you." Entek's eyes narrowed as he saw what Garak was drinking. "Water, Garak? Come, come, this is a party!" He lowered his voice and leaned forward, "I know that you're looking after --him--," he nodded toward Tain, who was apparently involved in a lively debate with a few other men. "But one glass of kanar won't hurt you." "Perhaps you're right." He would have agreed to nearly anything to get away from Entek's breath, the alcoholic fumes were nearly overpowering. The other Cardassian started to wave at one of the Bajoran servants and Garak hastily added, "Oh, don't worry, I believe I can find a drink on my own." So saying, he made his way over to the kitchens. He pushed the door open a bit harder than necessary and straight into a young Bajoran servant girl who was carrying a tray of drinks. The tray was knocked from her grip and the glasses were shattered on the hard tile of the floor. "Oh sir, Gul sir, I'm so sorry! I…I didn't…I…"The girls eyes were wide and frightened and she was frantically gathering up the remains of the glasses. One shard pierced her finger and she dropped it with a cry. "Careful!" He captured her hand and her head jerked up, watching him fearfully. He ignored the look and grabbed a small towel, dabbing at the cut with it. It was shallow and the bleeding was already slowing. He could feel her trembling through his light grip on her wrist and he spared a glance upward to see her spice-brown eyes still wide and frightened like a startled gettle. He gave her a winsome smile. "It's all right, my dear. I suppose I should watch where I'm going more closely, hmmm?" Her lips twitched upward at his words but quickly settled back into a quivering line. He sighed inwardly. "Calm yourself, child. It was my fault. No one is going to punish you." He released her wrist and she skittered backwards until she was pressed against the wall, still staring at him warily. He regarded her briefly, then sighed again. Turning away from that somewhat unnerving stare, he began to gingerly clean up the fragments of glass. A long moment later he heard her hesitantly crawl towards him. He ignored her. After another minute she began to help him. They worked in silence and after the glass was discarded she used a damp cloth to wipe up the sticky remains of the kanar. Garak scanned the floor with a practiced eye, then nodded, satisfied that everything was in order. The young Bajoran stepped back, head down but still peering at him through her lashes. He smiled at her again, gently. "Well done, my dear. And I am sorry. Now, you'd best go get more drinks before someone notices." "Yes, sir." He started to walk away, but a soft, "Sir?" stopped him. He looked back at her questioningly, and she wet her lips nervously. "Thank you, sir." She smiled then, with warm sweetness. He returned the smile with one of his own. "You're welcome." He gave her a nod then, and they both turned away leaving their brief moment of camaraderie behind. --- The moons were much higher in the sky when Garak stumbled outside. The reek of alcohol and sweat was overwhelming him. He regarded most of the other agents here as disgusting boors, fools to be tolerated with tight-lipped smiles and insincere words, but even his patience had its limits and this night had certainly tested them. He took a deep breath of the cooler air outside, trying to cleanse his lungs from the filth he imagined coated them. This little celebration was petty at any rate; Gul Entek always was a bit of a show off and… A strange sound cut off his thoughts. Some kind of low moan, like a hurt animal. His senses screaming, instincts pushing him to exam the threat, he warily slid along the side of the building in the direction of the sound. Silently, he edged around the corner to find a pair of feet. No, two pairs of feet. He very nearly growled in exasperation. Here he was thinking of assassinations and threats and it was a simple lovers tryst. He was about to quietly depart when the woman noticed him and recognition dawned. Their eyes caught and held. He stood there, frozen, staring at the sweaty bulk of his father heaving over the body of the young servant girl, who was not even half his size or his age. She looked at him from over Tain's shoulder, brown locked with blue as the older cardassian huffed on top of her. Paralyzed by the sight before him, by those wide, terrified eyes, he just stood there and watched. The Obsidian leader's movements quickened and Garak heard Tain grunt in completion before he collapsed on the girl. "I do hope you enjoyed the show." The dry, mocking words snapped him from his trance and he realized Tain was looking at him, amused. The older man fastened his pants and stood, leaving the girl still quivering on the ground. "I…I didn't mean to…intrude," he stammered, struggling to regain his usual poise. His heart was hammering and he realized he was trembling, his stomach twisting as it threatened to eject everything he'd consumed that evening. "Of course you didn't. Well, the way is opened up for you, you should have her yourself." The words sounded like an idle suggestion but the tone made it quite clear that it was not. Garak knew better. It was a test, the kind that Tain was constantly throwing in his path, little challenges to overcome while Tain waited for his bastard son to disappoint him, for one mishap. Not a suggestion, but an order. Her or me? Whose side are you on, Elim? He never hesitated. Garak knelt between the girl's upraised legs and unfastened his trousers. For just a brief moment, their eyes met again. The large, pleading eyes of the girl made him again think of a gettle, this time one about to be slaughtered by a razor hound. He could see flecks of gold in the deep brown pools that caught his own cold blue for one frozen space in time. And for that moment, Garak didn't think he could do it, his barely erect organ nearly softening under the force of that fear. But then she blinked and severed their connection, and he pressed home into her tightness, already slick with his own father's seed. He refused to consider the fact that some of that wetness was likely to be blood. Garak moved above her gently, but also quickly, determined to end this as swiftly as possible. He closed his eyes against that accusing stare, against Tain sardonically amused face watching in the background. He concentrated only on the heat and tightness surrounding him, on pretending that the soft sounds the girl underneath him was making were from enjoyment. His climax was more a relief than a pleasure. "I'm sorry." He could have bitten off his tongue for allowing those soft words to escape, but he could have no more held them back than he could hold back the tides. She was silent beneath him, aside from a whimper as he withdrew from her. Garak stood, fastening his trousers as he turned to face Tain and bask, oh so briefly, in the light of approval in his eyes. Some tiny part of him deep inside, a part that wept silently as it watched him complete the tasks Tain set for him, wondered, not for the first time, just how far he would go for that faint gleam. How far he --could-- go before this desperate fool's quest for acknowledgment destroyed him. Perhaps it already had. With a brief nod and a faint smirk Tain walked away and rejoined the party. Garak turned back to the girl. She was still lying on the ground staring up at the night sky, legs sprawled apart and her body still exposed. He heard her suck in a breath when he stretched out a hand to her and he hesitated, then pinched the fabric of her skirt between his thumb and forefinger carefully, as if actually touching her skin would sear him. He tugged the fabric downward, covering her. Their eyes met again, briefly, and he saw her confusion, her pain and humiliation, her fear burning there, and he let his own eyes tell her again what his lips had already said. And then Elim Garak, who years later would sometimes wake in his too cold quarters on DS9 with a sour taste in the back of his mouth and the memory of those gold-flecked eyes etched in his mind, who would know on those nights there would be no more sleep and who would drink glass after glass of kanar until the memory of that terrified stare dimmed, turned and rejoined the gala inside. --- The End