Possibly going in the AO3? I don’t know. This fic keeps trying to wiggle out of my hands. (Beginning, 2, 3)
Julian returned to find Garak sound asleep. He clenched his jaw and thought for a moment before deciding that putting on the delta-wave inducer while he slept wasn’t any sort of violation. After all, he thought as he took the headband-like machine out of its case, he did ask for dreamless sleep. Using every bit of his genetically enhanced dexterity, he gently placed the machine across Garak’s brow and turned it on. “For once, you were telling the truth,” Julian noted aloud as tension melted out of Garak’s face and shoulders. “Just when I’d hoped you were lying.” He blinked away a tear. “Isn’t that ironic?” He placed a kiss on his sleeping lover’s forehead. “Oh well... At least you can get some good deep sleep.” He pulled out the bone regenerator again and positioned Garak’s hand on the bed. “When you wake up, your hands will be restored. Just like a fairytale.”
Elim felt something slip off of his forehead. A blindfold. He had been blindfolded and left in -- wherever this was. Someplace warm, at least. He never had been able to withstand the cold very well, something Tain often remarked on when he got the chance. “Now try that on an icy moon” had become such a common refrain whenever Garak did something well that he was able to mouth the words along with his mentor (when his back was turned, of course).
His legs were free, but his hands were tied behind his back. He rose into a kneeling position and tested his bonds. To his slight frustration, they held firm. Rope of some kind. Easy enough to get out of, if he had the time. “If this is a test,” he called out into the darkness as he began searching the rocks for something to use as a knife, “might I suggest we get on with it? I do have other places to be.”
“Now, Elim, we both know that’s a lie,” Tain’s voice said a few feet to his left.
“Tain,” Garak said with a measured coolness. “I believe there are more productive ways to meet with your operatives than binding them up in some dark place and blindfolding them.” A stinging slap crashed across the back of his skull.
“I told you not to come back to Cardassia,” Tain growled.
“And then you sent for me.” He raised his chin. “You can see where I might have gotten confused.” Another blow pelted down on him, this time directly across his jaw.
“Did you really think I had a pardon for you?” Tain asked. “Were you really so naïve?”
“Well,” Garak said as blood welled in his mouth, “it wouldn’t be the strangest thing you’ve done over the years.” He began shifting backwards on his knees, trying to find a rock or a beam to use on his bindings. “And, as I’ve learned from my time on the station, hope springs eternal in the exiled breast.”
Tain chuckled darkly. “So proud. So full of talk. Sometimes I wonder how you ever survived the Order.”
“My dear mentor,” Garak oozed as a sharp rock hit his ankle, “was it not you who explained to me the power that conversation holds?”
“Is that why you talk to me?” a familiar Terran voice asked.
Garak froze just as he was about to pick up the rock. Julian. How had Tain gotten Julian? Panic seized him as he tried to figure out where Tain was keeping him. Everything was dark. He couldn’t hear anyone. He couldn’t smell anyone. He could only feel the rocks beneath his legs and the warm air around him.
“Is that fear I see, Elim?” Tain asked. Garak could match the face to it. It was the tone Tain always used when he’d found a way to back Garak into a corner.
“Yes,” Garak said. “I’m afraid because you’ve kidnapped a Starfleet officer and now the Federation will have both of our heads. I didn’t think you wanted your death to be a suicide, but clearly--”
“Didn’t you hear? He’s not with Starfleet anymore.”
The warm air suddenly turned icy cold. “Nonetheless,” Garak said, “he is a citizen of the Federation and a doctor with some friends in very high places. Last I checked, we weren’t interested in antagonizing the Terran system or their allies, so I’d suggest--”
“We?” Tain exclaimed. “There is no ‘we,’ Garak. You’re an exile. A traitor. I’m head of the Obsidian Order. Do you really think you can tell me what to do?”
“It’s alright, Garak,” Julian said. Somewhere to his right. Julian was somewhere to his right. Garak picked up the sharp stone and began whittling at the rope behind his back. “At least I’m here with you,” Julian continued, “my love.”
Garak’s heart stopped in his chest. He knew that Tain knew. Tain had to know. Still, he could at least pretend to be heartless until Julian said those two words. He could buy them time. Now, that was all over. Julian had revealed the hand and Garak knew the play. Torture and kill the loved one in front of the person you really want tortured. It was practically the first thing he was taught in the Obsidian Order. “You think,” Garak said, his mind whirling, “that I love you? My dear doctor, you are sadly mistaken.”
“Elim, the man’s about to die,” Tain said, confirming his worst fears. He heard a strangled hitch in breath. Julian’s breath. “Where are your manners? The least you could do is pretend.”
“Elim,” Julian said. The words sounded desperate now. “Elim? Elim!”
Garak awoke to see Julian standing over him, fear writ large across his face. “Elim?” Julian said. “Are you alright? You were thrashing in your sleep. I thought you were going to strain your back again. What in the world were you--?”
“I’m quite alright, doctor,” Garak said. “Just a bad dream.”
“How long have you been having these nightmares?” Julian asked. “Since we got back? Since you started running that program? I thought about putting the delta-wave inducer back on, but I was worried that a lack of R.E.M. sleep would do to your already--”
“Yes, I’m sure you have your reasons,” Garak interrupted, his mind still half in the dream. “As for your questions, I don’t really remember my dreams and I haven’t been doing much sleeping lately.”
“I’m not sure I blame you,” Julian said as he flopped down into the chair he had pulled up beside the bed. “Just watching your reaction was...” Garak watched as the mask of professionalism slipped onto Julian’s face. “In any case,” he continued, “I think I’m well within standard medical practice to give you a sedative and ask you to take the day off tomorrow.”
“I’d really rather not, Julian,” Garak said. “Constable Odo is coming over for breakfast and I would hate to sleep through it.”
“What have you done now?” Julian said with a fondness that filled Garak’s heart.
“My dear doctor, must you be so cynical? Constable Odo and I often have breakfast together.”
“But he doesn’t eat,” Julian protested as he leaned forward, his interest piqued.
“Admittedly, our breakfasts are somewhat one-sided,” Garak said. “But, he does enjoy a bit of conversation when I can wrangle it out of him. Some of his opinions on the art we ‘solids’ produce is very nuanced.”
Julian let out a little laugh. “Well, I’ll tell him you have to have breakfast another day.”
“I really wouldn’t, doctor, he was quite insistent on the matter. In fact, what time is it?”
“Uh...” Julian squinted at the clock across the room. “Nearly five in the morning.”
“Then he’ll be here in a little more than three hours. Zero eight hundred hours, on the dot. I’m sure you’re welcome to stay and have breakfast with us, if you like.”
“My shift starts at eight fifteen,” Julian said, “otherwise I’d take you up on that.” He stretched in the chair and yawned. “Do you think you can go back to sleep without a sedative?” he asked.
Julian narrowed his eyes at him. “Right...” He stood up. “Well, while you’re up, move over.”
“Doctor?” Garak asked in feigned surprise.
Julian rolled his eyes. “My shift starts in about three hours and I’ve spent most of the night in that chair,” he said, gesturing to the straight-backed monstrosity before slipping under the blankets. Garak moved over so that Julian could nestle against his side, which the doctor readily did. Julian peeked at him from under the blankets. “I didn’t want to wake you, but it would be nice if I got some sleep,” he explained.
“No explanation needed, doctor,” Garak said as he wrapped his arm around Julian’s thin shoulders. He tried to remind himself that this was reality. Julian was here, by his side, safe and sound and not at the mercy of Tain, who was several light years away and likely not interested in making the trip to Terok Nor. He pressed his lips to Julian’s forehead before adding: “I’ll try not to keep you up any more than I already have.”
Julian grunted and rested his head against Garak’s shoulder. The weight and pressure was comforting. He knew that, within an hour, having Julian’s head directly on his shoulder would hurt, but, for now, he didn’t care. He could practically hear Tain telling him how weak he’d become from living with Bajorans. He could hear Tain telling him he was being foolish for letting his guard down. He could hear Tain lecturing him on the dangers of getting involved with anyone. “I should have killed your mother before you were born,” echoed in his head as it often had in his childhood. He looked over at Julian. The doctor was already asleep, mouth slightly open as he drooled on Garak’s shirt. It was probably a moment like this that had led to his birth -- Tain curled up with his mother, watching her sleep the way Garak was watching Julian sleep now. He turned his head so that his nose rested against the top of Julian’s head, and took comfort from the knowledge that he and Julian would never sire any bastards.
