The Necessity of Terror, Part I

[dark_sinestra]

Author Notes: This story takes place during Broken Link. A bit of dialogue comes from the episode, and I also slightly altered the order of events toward the beginning for a better flow. If you haven't read the entire series, you may notice a few references to things that never happened in the show, specifically something to do with Doctor Mora and Garak's reaction to an Edosian orchid delivery. All of these references are to things that happened in Red Sky at Morning, the story I wrote that wasn't based on any episode and took place shortly after Vedek Bareil's death. Knowledge of that story won't impact understanding of this one except in regard to the background of those references.

Summary: Odo is struck with a mysterious malady that only a visit to his own people has the possibility to cure. Garak seizes the opportunity to find the answer to a question that has been plaguing him for far too long, an answer that may forever alter the dynamic between him and Julian. The fate of the entire Alpha Quadrant hangs in the balance.

Author: Dark Sinestra

Date Written: May 2010

Category: Slash

Rating: PG-13 for adult situations and violence.

Disclaimer: If I owned these characters, aside from being a happy little camper, I'd be trying to make money from them, and I'd own an adorable purple pimp hat. Hey, a girl can dream.

Word Count: 11,806

 

 

Garak

Garak's Clothiers

 

Garak hummed softly under his breath, the morning tinged with anticipation. What was about to happen? He couldn't say. He only knew that a plan long in the making was about to begin. It would soon be out of his hands and up to the players he had carefully arranged upon his stage. It was exciting. He greeted Aroya with his brightest smile when she walked through his doors. Her answering smile was sunny. “I'm so grateful you finished my dress early,” she said. “I can hardly wait to see it. When you showed me the fabrics, I knew it would be to die for.” She glanced around furtively and dropped her voice. “Is he here yet?”

 

“Of course not,” Garak said, stepping to the side and drawing down her garment still neatly in its protective bag. “You need to get dressed.”

 

She clapped her hands, her eyes shining. “You really do think of everything, don't you?” she asked. “I'll go try it on right away.”

 

“Don't rush, my dear,” he said with easy kindness. “It will take him a few moments to arrive. If you need help with any of the fastenings, do let me know.”

 

“I will,” she said, taking the hanger from him and raising to tip toes to kiss his cheek. “You really are a doll to do this for me.”

 

“Odo is a friend,” he said pleasantly, sweeping a dressing room curtain open for her. “The way I see it, I'm doing him the favor. You're delightful company.”

 

With her safely ensconced and getting ready, he walked over to his comm and hailed Odo in his office. “Constable,” he said, making certain his face was an unreadable mask, “I need you in my shop right away.” He cut the transmission before Odo could ask any questions. He knew that a sense of duty and curiosity would bring him quickly. Were he anybody other than himself, he might have bounced on his toes. He was having entirely too much fun.

 

Odo arrived, certain that he was interrupting a crime in progress, and Aroya emerged, a vision in her sunset hued dress. Garak beamed benevolently and made the introductions. He had to give it to Aroya. She turned up the charm and made it crystal clear that she would be more than happy to be receptive to a social overture from Odo. He certainly would have found such effervescent charm difficult to turn down, at least for a dinner invitation. Odo had always been the weak link in this plan of his and proved true to form, as awkward as a pre-teen at a formal gala. Aroya left without an invitation to a date, and Odo made his displeasure at the ruse known in no uncertain terms. Why did some people insist on being miserable?

 

All thought of that fled his mind the moment Odo turned to leave, only to be felled by some sort of violent spasm. Garak acted quickly, summoning Julian and his staff for a medical emergency using Odo's comm badge. “Help is on the way,” he said, not sure the prone changeling could hear him.

 

Julian and two nurses rushed in, the doctor dropping to his knees to scan the security chief. “What happened?” he asked tersely, his eyes never leaving his tricorder.

 

Garak described the seizure to the best of his ability. No, nothing obvious happened to bring it on. No, he wasn't aware of anything unusual in the shop or the immediate surroundings. No, no one else had been there at the time it happened. He watched them carry Odo away, frowning deeply to himself. Was it possible anxiety over the encounter with Aroya brought it on? Surely not. He had seen Odo distressed before. He wasn't distressed when he was leaving, merely annoyed. Maybe he had been feeling strange before he arrived at the shop. Maybe that was why he wasn't particularly receptive to the introduction. He wasn't ready to give up on that entirely. He'd wait until he knew more.

 

Julian

The Infirmary

 

All doctors knew that at times it was important to phrase their findings creatively, not to lie outright to patients but to keep them from suffering undue uncertainty. It was much harder to accomplish with someone as observant as Odo. Julian wasn't sure how well he had managed it. He knew so little about changeling physiology, only what he had been able to measure from Odo when he seemed perfectly healthy. Now, his mass and density were in a state of significant fluctuation. Was it normal? Could it be a disease? All bio-scans for foreign particulates had thus far come up negative. The only bacteria present on Odo were surface bacteria one would expect to find on a space station in that sector. He wasn't infected, as far as Julian could tell.

 

Although he was reluctant and it felt a little bit like a violation of Odo's privacy, Julian decided his best bet was to contact Doctor Mora. Of everyone he knew, the Bajoran scientist knew more about changeling physiology than anyone else. He put the call through and waited anxiously to be transferred.

 

“Doctor Bashir,” Mora said with a look of pleasant surprise. “It has been a couple of years since we last had the pleasure of speaking. What can I do for you today? My assistant said this is a matter of some urgency?”

 

“I'm afraid so,” Julian said. He didn't keep the man in suspense, telling him all that had transpired in the past several hours and going into detail about his readings and tests. “Naturally, I realized that you were the best chance I have to understand what may be happening.”

 

Mora nodded, his expression grave. “Doctor, I wonder if you recall that you said you owe me a favor?”

 

It took Julian a moment to recall, then it came to him, Garak's abduction before Vedek Bareil's funeral and the assistance Mora had provided in isolating the drug used. “Yes,” he said, “I recall.”

 

“I'm calling it in,” he said. “Please, do what you can to get Odo to come to my lab here on Bajor. I know he may be unwilling. However, I have equipment here you may not have access to on Deep Space Nine. I will, of course, provide you with full access to all of my lab notes and findings from the time of Odo's discovery until he left us. If you're unsuccessful in persuading him, I'll still accept you've acted in good faith.”

 

“Of course,” Julian said, nodding assent. He was grateful that the forgotten favor didn't prove to be costly. He doubted seriously that Odo would agree, but he intended to do as he had been asked. “I appreciate your cooperation. I'll keep you abreast of my findings, and I'll let you know one way or the other whether he'll be coming to you.”

 

“Thank you,” Mora said. “I'll begin the upload of my data to your system now. If you need anything else or his condition worsens, contact me at any hour. I believe you know how to reach me at home?”

 

“I do,” Julian said. He waited while Mora arranged the upload and saw that the data transfer had successfully begun. “I'm receiving.” Within a few more moments, the transfer was complete. “I have it. I'll begin looking over this now. In the mean time, I'm keeping Odo in our infirmary until the fluctuations I mentioned cease. Moving exacerbates the condition. I don't want him losing cohesion.”

 

“A wise precaution,” Mora agreed. “I'll let you get back to work. Doctor...thank you for contacting me. I know you did it in Odo's best interest, but nonetheless I appreciate the inclusion.”

 

“You're welcome,” he said. Mora ended the transmission, and Julian pulled up the copious notes. There was a very Cardassian sort of order to them that illustrated the conditions under which the Bajoran scientist had been forced to conduct his research.

 

He had empathy for the man's past plight and recalled with an inner shudder what it was like to work under enemy control, his own research into the Jem'Hadars' addiction to ketracel white under duress. He knew Mora endured those conditions for years and had been labeled by many as a collaborator, yet where would Odo be now without his tireless experiments and eventual realization that the Odo'ital, the “unknown sample” was sentient and deserved the right to make his own decisions? Would Odo ever be able to see that for himself and understand what the Bajoran had suffered? He knew it wasn't his business, and he vowed to keep his thoughts on the matter to himself.

 

After several hours of research and finding himself no closer to an answer to Odo's plight, he left the infirmary so that he could have dinner with Garak in his quarters. The two of them had been on strained footing for a couple of weeks now, and he had yet to be able to determine why. Anything that lasted longer than a week was more than just the tailor's moodiness. He hoped that concern for Odo might keep the more unpleasant manifestations of Garak's pique at bay. Fortunately, it did. Unfortunately, he wasn't able to finish his dinner before being summoned for a medical emergency in Cargo Bay Eight, Odo, exactly where he had no business being. He frowned an apology at Garak. “Go, Doctor,” the Cardassian said.

 

“Bashir to Ops. Emergency transport to Cargo Bay Eight,” he said, his body tingling as Garak's concerned visage and quarters disappeared to be replaced by the crate crowded cargo bay and the worried face of one of Odo's deputies.

 

“I was on patrol and found him like this,” the Bajoran said. “I...I almost stepped in him.” The man colored deeply.

 

Julian nodded and requested another emergency transport, this time for himself and Odo to the infirmary. He used a cauterizer to form a make-shift lip on the biobed so that Odo would remain contained and not have to be placed in a more restrictive container. The changeling stabilized enough to regain consciousness and form, more or less, but it was clear his condition was deteriorating. Julian fought down the urge to deal harshly with him for leaving without his permission. “I don't suppose I need to tell you to stay put?” he said, trying not to glare.

 

“No, Doctor,” Odo answered, sounding resigned. “I don't think I could go anywhere right now even if I wanted to. I'm...sorry...for disobeying your order.”

 

“I imagine you are,” Julian said without heat. “I'm going to do everything I can to get to the bottom of this. I need your cooperation.”

 

“You'll have it,” Odo said. “I'd...like to rest now, if I may.”

 

“Of course,” he said and stopped talking to him, taking a few more scans and measurements in silence. He contacted Mora a second time, hoping that perhaps he had seen something like this before, something he may have left out of his meticulous notes. Instinctively, he knew he was on a dead end course before asking. If either of them knew what was happening, they would have acted on it by now. He thought about Starfleet Medical and rejected the thought in the next breath. They didn't know enough about changeling anatomy, and they'd be more likely to treat Odo as an opportunity to learn more than to try to help him. No, there was only one real chance for the constable to get better, a most unpalatable option. They were going to have to take him to the Founders. It was time to present Odo with his limited options and let him make his decision. He knew what it would be. It didn't change the fact that he had to ask and had to see if he'd be willing to go to Doctor Mora first.

 

Garak

Garak's Clothiers

 

One of the many reasons he left his shop doors open during business hours was so that he could gauge the mood of the Promenade. It was amazing the things one could learn simply by watching and sensing. A crowd started to coalesce near the infirmary. Curious and cautious both, Garak moved to the front of his shop and fiddled with a window display. He saw Odo emerge between Kira and Julian. He was shocked at his condition, far worse than when he had seen him collapse in his shop two days before. Something he had seen earlier clicked, several senior staff members heading off with purpose toward the direction of the docking ring. You and your Starfleet secrets, he thought with mild irritation at the doctor. He didn't truly blame him. He knew he had to answer to duty first. Still, this was inconvenient and left him with very little time to prepare.

 

He hailed Ziyal in Major Kira's quarters, fairly certain she'd be there painting. She answered his hail, a smudge of paint on her cheek confirming his suspicion. “Garak,” she said pleasantly, her face instantly lighting with a smile, “what a nice surprise! What can I do for you?”

 

“I'm truly sorry to have to do this in such a way, but I'm going on an unexpected trip,” he said. “In fact, if I don't leave in about five minutes, I'm going to miss my ship.”

 

Her smile faded to worry. “So quickly? How long have you known you were going?” she asked, the underlying accusation plain in her tone of voice.

 

“I had less than a minute's notice,” he said, “so you can see why I didn't come say my good-byes in person. I should be back before you know it. If you want details, ask Major Kira. I'm certain she will fill you in on some of it.”

 

She nodded, trying to take it all in and react with the decorum she seemed to think he expected from her. “Be careful,” she said. “I'll miss you.”

 

“Hopefully, I won't be gone long enough for that,” he said, cutting the transmission and hurrying from the shop, almost forgetting to lock it behind himself in his haste. He arrived at the docking ring and found Major Kira standing at the closed airlock, poised to return to duty. “Major,” he said, “if I may have a very quick moment of your time?” Even as he addressed her, he turned to a wall comm console and hailed the Defiant.

 

“What is it?” she asked, watching him with suspicion.

 

“It's about Ziyal,” he said, sending the text transmission and awaiting a reply. “I know that the O'Briens are keeping you busy, but if you could find time in your schedule to spend some time with her and check on her in the evenings, I'd appreciate it.”

 

She colored faintly. “I haven't meant to neglect her,” she said.

 

“Oh, I know,” he reassured her. “You've been understandably distracted. She'd never tell you herself, and she would be mortified if she knew I did, but she's not adjusting well to being alone. Unfortunately, I'm not going to be in a position to do anything about that for a while.” He ended his transmission and stepped forward, the airlock rolling back to admit him.

 

“What are you doing?” she asked, her dark eyed widening.

 

“I'm going to the Gamma Quadrant,” he said simply and left her to her surprise.

 

Julian

USS Defiant Sickbay

Alpha Quadrant

 

He hadn't been too surprised that Garak managed to talk his way on board. When he wanted something, he could be very persuasive. What did he want? One of the security officers brought in a chair to set beside the biobed, and shortly after that, Garak entered the sickbay and took his seat. Julian held his tongue, cutting a sharp glance the tailor's way to let him know he'd brook no tricks in his sickbay and that he'd have him ejected at the first sign of stress he placed on his patient.

 

Odo eyed Garak. “What are you doing here? If this is some sort of attempt on your part to play nursemaid, I'll tell you it's as unwelcome and ill thought as your trying to set me up with that woman.”

 

What woman? Julian arched an eyebrow and shot a questioning look at Garak that the man ignored.

 

“That woman has a name, Chalan Aroya, as I told you before, and I fail to see how being polite and introducing you to someone in my shop at the same time you happened to be there is 'ill thought'. As for my presence here, you may recall when we were fleeing for our lives in the Gamma Quadrant there were several Cardassian and Romulan ships that weren't yet destroyed. I want the chance to ask your people about any possible survivors.”

 

Julian turned his back so that Garak wouldn't see his surprise. He thought that the tailor had given up on that hope some time ago. He reminded himself never to underestimate his lover's tenacity and listened with more interest than he broadcast. Odo's readings were in greater flux than even a few hours before. The rate of deterioration was accelerating.

 

“I see,” Odo said, sounding somewhat mollified. “That doesn't explain what you're doing here at my bedside.”

 

“Constable,” Garak chided, “as you well know, I'm a voluble individual. Conversation is the butter to my bread. Have you ever tried conversing with Starfleet security officers outside of work? I'll hazard a guess and say that you have not. I'll go further to say it's not your natural reticence that has served as an obstacle to amicable relations, but their utter and total lack of personality. It's a job requirement. Did they tell you that?”

 

Julian's lips twitched. He didn't have to look at Odo to picture the eye roll in his mind's eye. “Garak,” he warned without turning around, “please, don't tire my patient. If you're bored, I'm sure we can find you something to read.”

 

Garak continued as though he hadn't even heard. “Cardassian and Romulan ships,” he said to Odo. “I wonder if there were any Romulan dignitaries on those ships. What do you think?”

 

“What do you care if there were?” Odo grated.

 

“Call it curiosity more than care,” Garak replied amiably. “I met a fair share of Romulan dignitaries in my time on Romulus.”

 

He couldn't help himself. He glanced over his shoulder. Odo's attention was now laser focused on Garak. Julian smiled inwardly. Captain Sisko was a smart man, and no doubt Garak was all too pleased to offer himself for such use. No one could better distract the shape shifter without making him feel like a burden or self-conscious. If he was lucky, Garak might let slip something he himself hadn't heard before, reveal a little more of that mystery that still had him intrigued after all this time.

 

Garak

USS Defiant Sick Bay

Gamma Quadrant

 

Garak wove his narrative carefully, more carefully than he would've with a human or anyone of lesser observation skills, leaving just enough holes and clues for Odo to follow and poke. A large part of his mind was elsewhere, forward and backward looking at once, a juxtaposition that would thrust a non-Cardassian mind into a crisis of sanity. Gray. Romulus had been so very gray, its landscape, its people, their alien minds and ways, even their cold hearts, so drab that at times being in their presence weighed him down nearly to the ground.

 

It was an assignment that he should have enjoyed, one of the biggest challenges of his career. He had been too stupidly in love to appreciate it, longing for the woman he had no right to have, the married woman he should have left alone, would have left alone had it not been for that day he saw her and her daughter in the Tarlak Sector. He betrayed himself on Romulus. He gave a part of himself away that he could never reclaim, the part of him that made Tolan Garak proud of him. More than himself, he betrayed the man who had raised him as his son and the secrets he shared with him about his beloved Edosian orchids. He gave up the right to call himself a gardener, sold his soul for a pittance and the approval of one who never valued anything or anyone he couldn't use.

 

“A gardener?” Odo's voice wove into his reverie. “At the Cardassian embassy on Romulus?”

 

Garak nodded, seeing interest in the keen blue eyes regarding him. He smiled faintly.

 

Odo smiled as well. “Fascinating.”

 

Had Odo not struck him when he did and forcibly dragged him along, there would be no one to inquire as to the fate of the Obsidian Order agents lost to the doomed mission. No one would care. Good riddance to bad rubbish seemed to be the general attitude on Cardassia Prime, not a single one of those predatory soldiers and fat, complacent politicians aware of what the state of the union might have been without the long service and personal sacrifices of the lost. How many wolves had they kept at bay from Cardassia's borders, how many threats neutralized before the honest, hardworking people ever knew of them? He deeply resented the apathy, no, worse than apathy, the active relief with which his people greeted news of the collapse of the Order.

 

He had visions of bold negotiations; however, what did he have to offer the Founders? He couldn't speak in an official capacity at all. Still, if he could provide a solid lead, real intelligence that some of the lost were imprisoned and not dead, it was possible something would be done. Many of them were from influential families, families that would not sit idly back and remain quiet while the government did nothing.

 

“Odd that you would just happen to meet the senator a mere twelve days before his death in a lift accident,” Odo said, the observation enough to cut into this future thinking and take his focus back to the steady conversation they had been having since his arrival.

 

“Yes, it was so unfortunate,” he said. It had been, and it wasn't his doing. There could have been other agents on Romulus. The Obsidian Order often built redundancy into its plans, or it could simply have been the accident it seemed to be.

 

Odo was visibly tiring. “I want the chance to think about some of what you've told me,” he said. “You seem to be trying to distract me. Come back later, and I'll have more questions for you.”

 

“I'll do that, Constable,” Garak said, inclining his head and standing. He glanced at Julian. “I haven't been assigned quarters. I believe the captain overlooked it in his haste to depart.”

 

“You weren't exactly expected,” Julian said. He looked over at Odo. “I'll be back in a few minutes. I'm going to get Garak settled.”

 

“Take your time, Doctor,” Odo said dryly. “I'm not going anywhere.”

 

Julian

USS Defiant Crew Quarters

Gamma Quadrant

 

Gesturing at the extremely cramped room with its upper and lower bunk, Julian said, “Pick your bed.”

 

Garak glanced at Julian's duffel in the corner. “This is your room,” he said.

 

Julian nodded. “I figured you'd rather bunk with me than with a security officer, and I don't think any of the other members of the senior staff would have you. You're welcome to ask, if you wish.”

 

He shook his head and took longer to select a bunk than Julian felt was warranted. At last he climbed to the top and settled flat on his back. “So you don't care if the others are aware that we're involved again?” he asked.

 

The doctor frowned. “I don't think this trip is a good time to announce anything.”

 

“Who said anything about making an announcement?” Garak snapped. “Do you not think it likely some will assume as soon as they become aware of this arrangement? Dax, for instance? Perhaps Chief O'Brien?”

 

“I can't help what they assume,” he said with a sigh. “Nor do I have time to discuss it right now. As you saw, Odo's condition is highly unstable. I need to keep monitoring him.”

 

“Call for me when he's strong enough to speak again,” Garak said.

 

“I will,” he said. He paused at the door before it opened. “I wish you'd tell me what it is I've done this time. I thought we were beyond freezing one another out.”

 

“If you don't have time to discuss Dax and Chief O'Brien, then you definitely don't have time to discuss that,” the tailor said, pinning him with a significant look.

 

“Fine,” he said, defeated for the moment but unwilling to let it drop for good. “Don't think I won't be coming back to that when I do have time.”

 

He left him behind and walked the narrow corridor back to the sick bay. He didn't see how Worf could ever consider this place home. Life on a space station straight out of Starfleet Medical Academy hadn't prepared him for the nearly claustrophobic environment of ships like the Defiant. He missed the solid rumble of the station and its slight vibration beneath his feet. It was amazing how much he now considered it home, surely more at home there than he had ever been on Earth.

 

When he returned to the sickbay, he said, “If you want him to stay away, just tell me. You're under no obligation to humor him.”

 

Odo shifted on the bed with a slightly wet sound. “He's fine, Doctor,” he said. “Actually takes my mind off of things. You're the one who should be careful, you know.”

 

“I beg your pardon?” he glanced at him over his shoulder.

 

“Hmph,” he grumped and shook his head. “Do you really think I haven't noticed?”

 

Picking up a hand held scanner, he turned and walked over to the modified biobed, running the wand along Odo's prone form. He gave him a bland smile worthy of Garak. “I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about,” he said.

 

“Play it that way if you like,” the constable retorted. “Just ask yourself this. What has changed between now and the last time the two of you called things off? It ended for a reason.”

 

“Could you please lower your voice?” Julian asked, leaning closer. “It's not...like it was before.”

 

Odo gave him a smug, satisfied smile. “So I was right,” he said.

 

“You mean you didn't know?” he asked, frowning.

 

The changeling's chuckle sounded like gravel on glass. “I do now.”

 

“I'll thank you to keep it to yourself, or I'll have to start asking you about this Chalan Aroya woman and why it is that Garak seems to be trying to play match maker with you,” he said, turning back to the monitors and setting the scanner aside. Odo's silence was rewarding, but he didn't like what he was seeing. He didn't know how much longer Odo would be able to hold cohesion or how soon death would follow when he couldn't. Then again, all of them could be dead fairly shortly, depending upon the response of the Founders.

 

After about an hour of rest, Odo asked for him to have Garak brought back to him. Round two of the conversation was no less labyrinthine. It was difficult for him to imagine Garak grubbing around in the dirt and swapping fertilizer secrets with Romulan senators and dignitaries. How much of the tale was made up on the spot, and how much of it was drawn from real events? Odo seemed to have knowledge of many of the deaths and disappearances Garak mentioned. Was there a possibility that Garak had a hand in all of them? Surely not.

 

His thoughts drifted to what Odo said to him about being careful when the conversation swept too deeply into the political world of the Romulan Star Empire for him to want to follow it. He considered Garak's tendency to try to dominate him physically, something that waned when he was with Leeta only to return with a vengeance now that they had broken up. Most of the time he was content to allow it. It meant pleasure for both of them, and no matter how rough Garak got, he had never again escalated to being abusive or truly coercive. How can he be coercive when you give in so readily? What about that night with the phaser?

 

He didn't like those thoughts. What if he did decide to put up real resistance? Did he want to test that limit when it could mean consequences he wasn't prepared to face? If he wasn't prepared for them, didn't that mean his submission ran deeper than humoring Garak for the sake of enjoyment? He liked that thought even less.

 

After another half hour, he felt the ship drop out of warp. “Gentlemen, I think we may have company,” he said.

 

Garak

USS Defiant Corridor

Gamma Quadrant

 

Jem'Hadar soldiers smelled. He didn't know if it was a result of the compound coursing through their neck tubes, some unknown component of their tight fitting armor, or a quirk of natural body chemistry. All he knew was that there was a chemical reek that couldn't be coming from the Starfleet security officers or Julian out in the corridor with him and that definitely wasn't coming from him. He didn't appreciate being ushered out of sickbay before he had the chance to press his case. You've waited this long, he told himself. You can wait a little longer. What were they doing in there, anyway? For all he knew, the Founder and Odo could have beamed out of the ship to an unknown location, leaving the rest of them none the wiser.

 

At last his patience paid off. Julian returned to the sickbay, and Garak hurried after the female Founder in the corridor, pressing his inquiry despite her attempt to brush him aside. She suddenly stopped her forward progress and turned to fix him with eyes more cold and unreadable than any agent's. “Cardassian survivors?” she asked, her voice low of timbre and powerful.

 

“Yes,” Garak said, keeping his mask of curious inquiry in place with difficulty.

 

“There were no Cardassian survivors,” she asserted.

 

He felt the revelation like a gut punch, the sheer numbers alone and the utter ruthlessness of it appalling. “You mean they're all dead?” he heard himself ask as though from a distance. The mask was a little easier when he had the detachment of shock. He had been so sure there were survivors, so hopeful that Tain had once again shown his talent for escaping impossible odds. It felt like losing him twice.

 

“They're dead, you're dead, Cardassia is dead,” she pounded the points home with savage civility more menacing than the demeanor of her shock troops ever could be. “Your people were doomed the moment they attacked us.” She drew herself up straighter. “I believe that answers your question.”

 

His rage ignited, molten and vicious. For one brief moment, he found himself wanting nothing more than to destroy the creature standing there, treating the entire matter of so many Cardassian deaths, his father's death, as something almost beneath her notice, contemptible, and threatening his home. It then washed cold. Attacking her here and now would be suicide, a luxury that he and his people couldn't afford. A smile clawed to the surface, and he inclined his head deeply. “It's been a pleasure to meet you,” he said.

 

He stood still in the corridor, alone now with nothing but his thoughts and his cold fury. More than that, he feared for his people in a way he never had before. No threat to Cardassia had ever been more real or dangerous. When he had looked into the Founder's eyes, he had seen genocide. There was but one answer to that level of enmity. He'd have to make sure that he struck first. He'd have to finish what Tain started.

 

He strolled into sickbay and walked to Odo's bedside. The changeling was sitting up instead of lying down, and although he looked wetter than usual, somewhat slick, he looked better. “I must say, you're still not quite looking yourself,” he said pleasantly.

 

“I'm not,” Odo replied. “For that I'll have to return to the Great Link.”

 

Julian approached and stood beside Garak. “I hope you know that it's not likely Captain Sisko is going to allow this without some guarantee of your safe return.”

 

“Safe return?” Garak asked.

 

Julian and Odo exchanged a glance. At the constable's subtle nod, Julian said, “Apparently, the Founders are the ones responsible for Odo's condition. They did this to him in order to bring him to them for judgment.”

 

“No Founder has ever caused the death of another, until me,” Odo said. “How can I possibly try to avoid this without making a mockery of everything I've ever stood for in my life?”

 

“Very noble of you,” Garak said, “assuming their values are your values. Who knows what passes for justice to the Dominion?” He knew, and he could at least respect their stomach for the game if not their current goals.

 

“It doesn't matter,” the changeling said, shaking his head. “It's what I have to do. Did you find out what you wanted to know?” he asked.

 

He had to be careful. He didn't know what sort of information passed between changelings when they linked. He had seen what happened when the female Founder had touched Odo's hand on the biobed before dismissing him, the doctor, and the security unit. He couldn't afford to lie to him. It didn't mean he couldn't be vague. “I did,” he said. “I'm afraid that I can't continue our conversation of before at the moment. I actually came to see the doctor.”

 

Julian looked surprised. “Excuse us for just a minute?” he asked Odo. At the man's nod, he drew Garak to the side, his expression concerned. “What is it?” he asked softly. “Bad news?”

 

“I'd rather not discuss it right now,” he said vaguely, wincing and lifting a hand to his temple. “Of all the times for a migraine to strike... I don't suppose you have some of that medication you give me? I don't have a valise. I didn't have time to pack.”

 

“I don't,” he said, frowning. “I'm sorry. It's not something I thought we'd ever need on the Defiant. I do have a painkiller, but you're not going to like how it makes you feel.”

 

“I don't like how the migraines make me feel,” he said. “I'll take it. Besides, there's nothing left for me to do here. I may as well sleep, even if it means nightmares.”

 

Julian searched his gaze, his expressive dark eyes compassionate. He seemed to have guessed accurately at the Founder's reply. That was fine by Garak. It meant he'd be more likely to do as he asked and leave him alone. The doctor turned away and went to search the medical locker for pain pills. He returned to the tailor with a small dose envelope and a cup of water. “Would you like for me to come check on you in a little while? If you need to talk...”

 

Garak took the medicine and the cup from him gently. “No, my dear,” he said quietly. “What I need is some time alone, peace and quiet, and darkness.”

 

“All right,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at Odo. “We're being taken to the Founders' new homeworld. I'm probably going to go to the surface with Odo, if at all possible. He's my patient, and you know me. I don't easily give up the care of my patients to third parties, no matter how qualified to cure them they may be.”

 

Of course, Garak thought, tempted to laugh to avoid the alternative. There always has to be a price for my attachments. It's the unwritten law of the Universe versus Elim Garak. “I'm sure he'll be glad of the company,” he said lightly, “even if he doesn't show it.” He affected another wince. “I'm going to my quarters now. I'd just as soon say our farewells here. You know how I get with the medication.”

 

Julian nodded, hesitated, then cupped his face in both long hands and kissed him tenderly. Before he could get a protest out, the doctor said, “He knows about us anyway. I don't have a guarantee that I'll be returning, so I'll be damned if I don't at least get a proper good-bye.”

 

Tutting impatiently, Garak shook his head slightly. “I won't hear that kind of talk,” he said. “Besides, you know I hate public displays. I'm sure Odo does, too.” He wanted nothing more than to hold the dear man to him and kiss him until neither one of them could catch their breath. Instead, he turned away with his cup and pills. He paused as he passed Odo. “I'd say good luck,” he said, “except that I know you don't believe in it any more than I do.”

 

“Thank you, Garak,” Odo said sincerely. “I hope you feel better soon.”

 

I will, he thought grimly on his way out the door, for approximately five minutes. Then the Jem'Hadar will blow us from the sky, but it won't matter. Your people will be smoking cinders, Cardassia will be safe, and if there actually is some sort of Hell as so many races seem to believe, I'll see my father there shortly.

 

He walked back to the tiny quarters, secreted the pills beneath the thin mattress pad of his bunk, and drank the water, setting the cup aside. That way, if by chance Julian did change his mind and try to come see him, he might assume Garak just took a walk to help himself deal with the pain pills. “Computer,” he said, “lights out.”