Balance of Power, Part III, Conclusion

[dark_sinestra]

Garak

Replimat Café

 

He liked the return to routine. It wasn't without its awkward moments, discomforts, and even occasional near misses when one or the other of them wavered a bit in their commitment to their decision. To believe that things would be exactly as before would be complete folly. They couldn't pretend they had no history. In many ways, it made the friendship an easier one than before, for they had verbal and nonverbal shorthand for so many things that Garak had previously found difficult to convey across the cultural divide. They resumed their sparring over their tastes in literature, and he delighted in the fact that the doctor was much more capable of holding his own than he had been a year before. He didn't completely abandon Rom in the new arrangement. True friends were hard to come by and not to be discarded just because a more attractive option presented itself.

 

He had seen the doctor off for the Annual Starfleet Symposium on Earth almost a week ago and hoped that he was enjoying himself back home. He didn't try to pretend that he wasn't envious of the experience, the ability to return home and contribute something useful. It didn't stop him from being gracious about it. He expected them all back within an hour or two and had decided to make himself visible and available to be regaled with tales of what it was like. Julian had been more excited about the trip than he had seen him about anything in a very long time.

 

He divided his attention among his food, one of his favorite Enigma Tales, and the small crowd passing by and doing business on the Promenade. At close to the two hour mark, he noticed the doctor approaching from the direction of the docking ring. His slight smile shifted to a frown. The man walked with a hitch to his gait, as though he had been injured, and he looked gaunter than usual and tired. If you keep coming back from these joint excursions looking as though you've been passed through a wringer, I may have to get very testy with that Commander of yours, he thought. He stood and offered a palm to press. They did so, and both took their seats. “You look dreadful,” he said without preamble.

 

“I don't doubt it,” the doctor said, rubbing tiredly at his face. “I'm going to my quarters soon to sleep for about a week or so.” He stifled a yawn behind a hand.

 

“I was under the impression that Starfleet actually fed and housed their people at these symposiums. Perhaps you do things differently than we do on Cardassia,” he said lightly.

 

Julian quirked a half smile. “You're not funny, you know,” he said fondly. “Things didn't go quite as planned. I don't want to talk about it, at least not yet. I did want to find you and let you know I was fine in case you heard any rumors otherwise.”

 

“Your definition of fine and my definition of fine apparently differ,” he said tartly. At the doctor's warning look he held up a hand. “Far be it from me to pry. As you can see, I am simply sitting here having a conversation.” He wondered if the man would tell him if he weren't fine, and he realized with a sigh that he didn't have much of a right to expect the truth. He couldn't automatically offer comfort the way he once had. Just as Julian had accepted his imposed limits, he had to accept Julian's. “When, or if, you want to talk about it, you know how to find me. I don't mind being awakened.”

 

“I appreciate the offer,” the man said in a way that made Garak believe he had no intention of accepting it. “As much as I'd like the chance to catch up, I really need some rest.”

 

“Of course,” Garak said, standing when he did. “I've taken a long lunch, so it would be in my best interest to return to the shop. I'm not going to run the risk of awakening you over the next few days. If you want company, do let me know.”

 

He tried not to take it too personally that the doctor didn't take advantage of his offer. As Julian regained strength, returned to his proper weight, and took enough rest, the haunted look faded from his eyes. The tailor resigned himself to the fact that he would probably never know what ordeal the doctor suffered on Earth. The only person who might have relented and told him anything, Dax, was also keeping the details very close to the vest.

 

Early one morning in the shop a couple of weeks after their return, the prompt that Garak always eagerly anticipated flashed upon his monitor. He decrypted the message, blinking in surprise. A treaty between Bajor and Cardassia on the horizon? Was such a thing even possible? He was told not to interfere but to observe what he could and report any difficulties. Not for the first time, he wondered who his contact in the Obsidian Order was and just where his or her political loyalties lay.

 

Two days later, he saw Odo, Chief O'Brien, and several security officers run past his shop, followed moments later by Doctor Bashir and several of his staff members. He knew not to get in the way. However, he positioned himself toward the front of his shop for the best view. Almost fifteen minutes later, they came running back again, carrying wounded individuals in their arms. He wondered why they didn't transport them instead. When he saw Kai Winn sweep past, he felt a twinge of worry. If the incident revolved around the upcoming treaty negotiations, this didn't bode well for success. Either Cardassians or Bajorans could be involved. There were factions on both sides who almost surely did not want to see such a thing succeed.

 

He kept close watch on the situation and tapped the few resources he had at his disposal to learn all that he could of the accident. His clandestine investigation took him most of the day. He intended to contact Julian to let him know he would have to cancel their dinner plans only to discover that he was still tied up with one of the patients. Seeing Major Kira seated in the infirmary waiting room with a haunted, worried look, he didn't have to ask who that patient was, Vedek Bareil. He included all of this in his report, shut the shop for the night, and retired to his quarters.

 

His door chime drew him out of sleep. “Computer, what time is it, and who is at my door?” he asked.

 

“The time is 0116. Doctor Julian Bashir is at the door.”

 

“Enter,” he said through the comm. “Lights at twenty percent in the sitting room.” He rolled out of bed, stuffed his feet into the slippers Julian had given him some time ago, and hurried out of the bedroom. “You look dead on your feet,” he said as soon as he saw him. “You shouldn't be here. You should be in bed.”

 

“I know,” Julian replied, sounding as drained as he looked. “I intend to try to sleep in a while. I'm just too keyed up right now, and I wanted to apologize to you personally for standing you up for dinner. I didn't have time to get word to you.”

 

“I know about the accident. I saw the lot of you running past my shop this morning. I saw Kai Winn, too,” he said. Heading over to his replicator, he said, “ One Tarkalean tea.” He passed the mug to the grateful doctor. “One red leaf tea,” he ordered for himself. “How is the Vedek?”

 

“You know I can't tell you that,” he said, moving to sink to a seat in one corner of Garak's sofa. “I will say he's alive, at least.”

 

“What implications do you think this will have for the treaty?” he asked casually, taking his seat at the other side of the sofa.

 

Julian gave a small start and sighed a soft sound of exasperation. “Is there anything that happens around here that you don't know about?”

 

“Let's just say I am a very curious individual, and I have a wide range of interests,” he said. “I'm not asking for official Starfleet intelligence. I'm asking your personal opinion.”

 

“I really don't know,” he said, taking a sip of the tea. “Do I think that the Kai can pull this off on her own? I don't,” he said heavily. “You've seen her in action. She's overly condescending, and if she strikes that tone in the negotiations...”

 

“Legate Turrel will have her for breakfast, “ Garak finished for him. He sipped his tea. “I don't have to tell you how important this is,” he said softly. “For the entire quadrant.”

 

“No, you don't,” the doctor said, closing his eyes and resting his head back. “I'm going to do everything in my power to keep Vedek Bareil functional for his task, but I'm a doctor. I have to consider his health. I can't allow Winn or anyone else to manipulate him into pushing himself beyond his ability to recover.”

 

“You may not have a choice,” the tailor said, eying him levelly. “This isn't a Starfleet matter. It's a Bajoran one. They are the ones who will decide what you must or mustn't do.” He knew what it would cost his dear doctor if they forced him to push the Vedek to an early grave, and his heart hurt for him. However, there was nothing he could do, and he had to admit that such a treaty was worth a life if it came to it.

 

“I know,” Julian whispered. He set his tea mug on the floor and uncurled from his seat. “I ought to get to bed,” he said. “I could be called back to the infirmary at any moment, and I have to be able to function. Thank you for putting up with my coming by so late. I know I awakened you.”

 

“My dear, for such times as these, I am always at your disposal,” he said sincerely. He remained awake long after the man had left, sipping his tea and wondering how things would turn out. Everything was so up in the air with this Dominion threat. Cardassia and every government in the Alpha Quadrant would need all the allies they could get in the coming days.

 

Julian

The Infirmary

 

He had known that in the end it would come to this. He took only small consolation in the fact that the treaty had been signed. It had happened at the cost of the life of a very good man. As he watched Nerys standing over the Vedek and looking down at him, he took a PADD from his nurse and scanned over it. The other half of Bareil's brain was dying. He hated having to tell Nerys, and he hated Winn even more for being there and supporting his position that they should let the man go.

 

When she left them, he had the heartbreaking task of convincing an obviously desperate woman that she had to accept her lover's death as inevitable and that he couldn't replace the rest of his brain without destroying his last spark of personality, of life. How he managed to do it without breaking down, he credited only to his sense of professionalism. After she asked for some time alone, he gladly gave it to her. He didn't know how much longer he could stand to look into those anguished dark eyes without allowing a crack in his professional facade.

 

He knew where he wanted to go, where he had to go, the moment he left the infirmary, and as he walked, he knew something else, too. No matter how right he sounded, Garak was wrong about them. His position wasn't common sense. It was cowardice. It was refusal to accept joy today for fear of pain tomorrow. It was his biggest, grandest lie yet, and he was no longer content to go along with it, not for a single moment more.

 

Despite the late hour, Garak answered his first hail with an immediate, “Enter.” He strode into the quarters and saw the Cardassian seated on his sofa, wrapped in a robe, sipping tea, and reading. He realized that if he saw that sight every night of his life for the rest of his life, he would never tire of it. Garak must have sensed something amiss, because he set both tea and PADD aside and stood. “Doctor?” he asked, tipping his head slightly.

 

“Bareil is dying,” he said.

 

“Oh, my dear, I'm sorry,” the tailor said, taking a hesitant step toward him and stopping there.

 

“I am, too, but it's not why I'm here,” he said. “Or rather, it is why I'm here, in a way.”

 

“I'm afraid I don't understand,” Garak said.

 

“There's a lot I don't understand, myself. Such as how a man as intelligent as you are could be willing to live his life dictated by what ifs.”

 

“I beg your pardon?” the Cardassian's voice came a bit sharper.

 

“You pushed me away because you were afraid of what would happen if we stayed together. Because you're so damned persuasive, I listened to you, and I agreed that it made sense, when the simple fact is that it doesn't. A flaming asteroid could bear down on this entire station tomorrow and obliterate every single one of us,” he said heatedly.

 

“I highly doubt your Commander would allow such a thing without employing station defenses,” Garak retorted. “Besides, asteroids don't typically flame on their own. There's nothing to burn in space.”

 

“Elim? Shut up. I'm talking now. I've listened and listened to you for months. Now you're going to listen to me. You know good and well that's not the point. A bulkhead could collapse and crush my skull. You could trip on the stairs at Quark's and fall to your death. Yes, an assassin could be sent here straight from Tain to poison my Tarkalean tea, or I could wake up years from now and decide I've wasted more of my life trying to get through to you than I should have. There are literally millions of ways to die, and there are unlimited things that can go wrong in relationships. If we live every waking moment in that context, then we're not living at all.”

 

“You said you wouldn't do this,” Garak protested.

 

“Fine. I lied,” he said simply, fixing him with a hard glare. “I don't care about assassins and regrets. I don't care that you think you aren't good enough for me. I don't even care if you're right. Right at this moment, Nerys is in the infirmary telling an unconscious man all the things she never got to say to him because both of them were too busy with their duties to devote the time to each other that they wanted. You and I don't have that problem. We do have the time, and I am sick to death of your excuses for why we shouldn't make good on it.” He strode right up to him, invading his space fearlessly. “Of all of the things that I've thought of you over the years, I've never thought you were a coward,” he said. “Are you?”

 

Garak's eyes flashed. “You think it's that simple? That you'll just give me a pretty speech and goad me, and I'll change my mind?”

 

“I think that if you want me to leave instead of stay here and make love to you tonight, then you're going to have to kick me out, and you're going to have to convince me that it's what you'd actually prefer and not what you're doing because you're worried about me, my heart, or my career. I told you before I won't be your excuse. It's my fault I didn't follow through on that. I won't be making that same mistake twice,” he said, eyes blazing.

 

“You're insufferable!” Garak said, turning away from him and putting distance between them. “I can't believe I let you convince me you could be my friend. I should have known better. You're far too sentimental and idealistic, too immature just to let things lie as they ought to be.”

 

“As they ought to be,” Julian mocked, closing the distance again. He'd chase him all the way around the room if he had to. “You mean as you think they ought to be. In case you've forgotten, you're only half of this equation, and age doesn't automatically qualify you as always right.”

 

“I'm right more often than I like to be,” Garak retorted. “Would you stop standing right on me like that? You're starting to make me angry.”

 

“You're not right about this. If you want me to step back, then make me.”

 

“Don't think I won't,” he said coldly, a warning look flaring in the blue depths of his deep set eyes.

 

Julian spread his arms as though to dare him. Instead, the Cardassian shouldered past him to head toward the door. “Computer,” he said. Before he could get the rest of it out, the doctor seized him by his robe and forcefully turned him back, twisting both fists in the robe lapels and pulling him into a searing kiss. Garak jerked his head back and did something with his hands that Julian couldn't quite follow. The next thing he knew, he was flat on his back on the floor with the wind knocked out of him; Garak had a knee on his chest and most of his considerable weight pressed on that knee. “You'd dare?” he hissed.

 

He coughed and wheezed, unable to get any words out. Instead he nodded and pressed at Garak's leg. Eventually, he felt the pressure ease, but only just. “I would,” he choked out. “I did, and I'm not sorry for it.”

 

Garak suddenly shifted and stood. He yanked him to his feet by the front of his uniform with such pitiful ease that for the first time, the doctor realized he truly had no idea how strong Garak really was. Before he could get his bearings, he found himself being turned and shoved toward the door. “Out!” the Cardassian insisted. “Out right now!”

 

Beneath the outrage, he heard something else. “You're turned on,” he said, turning as soon as he could and stopping his momentum. He absorbed the next shove with his hips and knees and seized both of the man's thick wrists.

 

“It doesn't make me want you out of here any less,” Garak snarled.

 

“No, I'm sure it makes you that much more desperate to get me to leave. Like I said, Elim, convince me you don't want this for your sake. That's all you have to do.”

 

There was a confused moment of feeling pulled and shoved almost simultaneously, and the next he knew, the tailor was kissing him so hard their teeth clacked together. He groaned, maddened by this sudden shift, and ripped the thick robe down from the man's shoulders so he could reach those exquisite neck ridges. He squeezed and kneaded mercilessly, knowing that the rough treatment would push the Cardassian past the point of control, all the while thrusting and twining his tongue deep within the other man's mouth.

 

He felt powerful hands gripping the front of his uniform and heard the fabric ripping. He couldn't bring himself to worry about it, shrugging his shoulders and pulling his arms free of the sleeves as Garak jerked the jacket off of him and gave similar treatment to his trousers. He was flung to his knees in front of the couch, skidding over the carpet and wincing from the burn. Garak forced him forward, pressed him tightly to the sofa seat to the point that until he managed to squirm his head to the side, he couldn't breathe.

 

No matter how impassioned they had been in the past, he had never been taken this way, never been made to recognize that if the compactly built alien wanted to manhandle him and force him to anything he wished, he could. He felt slicked fingers parting him abruptly and shuddered, wondering now if this was an act of want and need for Garak or if it was an act of rage. Was he being punished? If so, it was hardly an effective punishment. He had wanted him so badly for so long that he felt he was about to explode without even being touched where his ache was centered most.

 

He cried out at the first, forceful penetration, welcoming the pain. Garak's natural lubrication wasn't quite adequate for the hard use to which he put the doctor. Julian didn't care. He ground his hips backwards, circling and lifting himself against the belly scales scraping his flesh. Sharp teeth sank into the muscle of his back just above his left shoulder blade. He felt them scraping and something hot and wet running downward, tickling him and mingling with his beading sweat, his own blood, he knew.

 

He reached back, trying to tug Garak's hand around him to no avail. Instead, he clamped tighter to his hips, digging his nails in. Unable to stop his hoarse grunts, his breath forced from him on every brutal thrust, he wrapped his hand around his own aching erection and pumped quickly. The tailor reached down and seized his wrist in an implacable grip, tugged his hand away, and twisted his arm at a painful angle behind him. He knew that unless he wanted his other shoulder wrenched, too, he had best keep his hand pressed flat to the couch where it was. The slightly napped fabric scraped his nipples, exquisite torture that shifted gradually from pleasure to pain. He wondered if there would be a spot on him by the time Garak finished that wasn't scraped, abraded, wrenched, or bruised. His hand had long since gone numb from the constrictive grasp on his wrist.

 

He lost all track of time, measuring the moments in nothing more than movement and endurance. He truly didn't know how much more he could take, sweat soaked and dizzy from strain, his already tired and taxed body and mind driven far beyond what he'd normally attempt after so many painstaking hours of surgery and worry. He cried out in relief when he felt Garak's punishing member swell and pulse, flooding him with warm wetness that eased protesting, raw tissue. “Oh, God,” he gasped. “Oh, thank God...”

 

He found himself lifted and flipped over, tossed onto the couch like a rag doll, and curled uncomfortably as Garak lifted his legs by the backs of his knees and spread them open. “Elim, please,” he panted. “I can't...”

 

He may as well have been talking to one of the bulkheads. He winced as Garak nipped and bit his way up his thighs, genuinely afraid that the bites wouldn't stop when it came to more sensitive flesh. Perhaps he really had pushed him too far. He tensed and managed to get both fists tangled into the man's hair, fully prepared to pull as hard as he needed to get him away if it came to that.

 

Instead of the expected teeth, he felt the warm rasp of the man's long tongue, cupping under his balls and lifting in lapping, languid strokes. He gasped, pushing with both hands instead of pulling. Garak stilled altogether until he released the pressure. “Damn you,” he moaned, twisting his head against the back of the couch. It was hard to get enough breath curled as he was. No matter how he shifted himself, the tailor managed to maneuver him back to the same discomfort within moments.

 

Pleasure and discomfort mingled, building a strange sort of tension in his psyche, fight or flight at war with stay put and enjoy. Garak laved and sucked his balls, teased his tongue tip over the sensitive skin beneath them, circled and even soothed over his sore, swollen tissue still throbbing from the recent abuse. He heard himself whimper unbidden and tried to bite it back. He should have known better. The diabolical tailor had ways of getting exactly what he wanted out of Julian, and apparently, he enjoyed that whimper very much. More quickly followed.

 

He felt his legs go to trembling, only the firm pressure at the backs of his knees holding them in place. That trembling radiated outward until his entire body betrayed him with it. “Elim, please,” he groaned. “Please...I can't take anymore. Please!”

 

He learned the difference between what he only thought he could take and the reality of it. By the time the Cardassian decided to allow him his full pleasure, he had no more coherent thoughts at all, no pride, no defenses. That mouth did things to him that should have been illegal, and with a finger and a thumb wrapped about his balls and keeping them held in place, he couldn't even come until Garak was good and ready for it.

 

He moaned a weak protest when he felt the mouth pulling away and a tightly clasped hand slide downward to take its place. The pressure on his balls eased and lifted. Instantly, he spasmed, crying out until he was hoarse. He felt his own seed splash his face, his hair, his chest. Garak's lips and tongue followed hungrily while his hand milked him dry.

 

He knew he must have blacked out for a while, because the next time he was aware of himself, he wasn't balled almost double on the couch. He was lying on a firm, Cardassian bed cradled against the side of an even firmer Cardassian. He could barely keep his eyes open, but he lifted his gaze to see if the man was awake or asleep. He met an unreadable look. Anxiety blossomed in the pit of his stomach. He had hoped that after all of that, he would finally be granted a little warmth.

 

“You're entirely too stubborn for your own good,” Garak said severely.

 

“I know,” Julian mumbled.

 

“You provoked me beyond reason,” he added.

 

He snorted a soft laugh. “Could tell,” he barely managed to get out, so exhausted that even vocalizing taxed him.

 

“It's not funny, you idiot. I could've hurt you.”

 

“Did,” he confirmed.

 

Garak sighed and bent his head forward to rest his lips on the sweat plastered curls clinging to his forehead. “This is the sort of life you want, having to watch yourself around the one person you should be able to trust above all others? Never knowing when or if you're being lied to, manipulated, and used? Risking abandonment the moment I discover I can return to Cardassia?”

 

“My risk to take,” he murmured, closing his eyes against the press of those lips and the puffs of breath gently caressing him.

 

“Don't push me like that again,” Garak said more softly, tightening his arm about him and settling him closer. “I'm not proud of what I did to you tonight, or how I felt while I was doing it.”

 

“Don't...make me so desperate again that I feel like I have to just to reach you,” he said.

 

“Oh, my dear,” he said on a long exhale. “All right. You win, if you can call it such. Be quiet now, and get some sleep. You should've gone straight to bed after that Vedek of yours passed beyond your ability to help. You have far more stubbornness than you have sense. I'll give you that.”

 

Julian smiled against his neck and said, “You wouldn't have me any other way.”

 

The End

Comments

[idanianspice.livejournal.com]

Another amazing piece of work! I am going to comment on the individual chapters when I get a second because this had so many intriguing layers, but I wanted to first and foremost say that this was fantastic, and may be my favorite of your stories thus far!

[dark-sinestra.livejournal.com]

Thank you! I had a harder time sorting through episodes and deciding what I wanted to emphasize this time around. It's kind of like trying to do a jigsaw and having to design some of your own pieces to meld with the existing puzzle. I'm really glad it worked for you and looking forward to your analysis!

[jdtaxidermy.livejournal.com]

Oh... well, my monitor is melting and i think I'll go throw my computor and me into the nearist snow bank before we bust into flames! This story is smoking hot. Thanks I needed that.

[dark-sinestra.livejournal.com]

Hee! I'm so glad you enjoyed it. I don't have any snow, so I suppose I'll just have to go make a mojito. :) Thanks for the feedback!

[slash4femme.livejournal.com]

wow that was amazing. I loved it, you keep writing these wonderful stories.

[dark-sinestra.livejournal.com]

Thank you! Considering how deep and nuanced your fics are, I really take it as high praise that you're enjoying mine.

[lady-drace.livejournal.com]

Oh gosh, I don't think I have enough words to describe the emotional round trip this fic gave me.

Holy smokes... I mean... WOAH!!

I really wish I could offer a good review, but I think you melted my brain with your awesome writing. GAH!

[dark-sinestra.livejournal.com]

Wow! Thank you so much! This one was a roller coaster for me, too, and I wasn't sure how it would end until it ended. Brain melt is always preferable to brain freeze!

[thelibraniniquity]

Well, that was one hell of a rollercoaster ride! I do love how you keep dipping in and out of the episodes with ease, taking just enough detail here and there to give a sense of how much time is passing, and how long Julian and Garak are continuing to dance around each other. Love, LOVE the comparisons between Bashir and Odo in an earlier chapter, and how Dax has almost reinvented herself as an intermediary between Garak and Bashir, and how she reveals facets of both men now necessarily to each other, but to the reader.

[dark-sinestra.livejournal.com]

Thank you! I wanted to make sure to keep it grounded in the show without treading over already covered ground too much, because that would be boring for readers and for me. I always felt that Odo and Julian were a lost opportunity for interaction, as they had far more in common than either of them realized.

As for Dax, I also felt that in many ways the character was wasted. They didn't use her enough, and when they did, it was often in the wrong way. I loved Dax, and I can easily see her interacting with them in this way. I'm so glad you like it. I'm working on the next story now, and it's a departure from my current format in some ways. I won't say anymore, though! It should be done soon. Thanks for continuing to read and review. It means a lot!