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To: "ASCEM-S" <ASCEM-S@yahoogroups.com>
From: "Keith & Jessica Bratcher" <campbratcher@psci.net>
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Date: Sat, 5 Jun 2004 19:22:00 -0500
Subject: [ASCEM-S] NEW DS9 Guilt 5/5 G/B (NC-17)
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_Let He Who Is Without Sin ..._

"Doctor, your shift ended forty-five minutes ago."

"Hmm?" His mind still focussed on his conference paper,
Julian briefly glanced up at his head nurse.

"You do remember you are on half-shifts this week?" Jabara
prompted, not moving from his office doorway.

"Yes, of course," he acknowledged, absently. Julian had been
staring at his presentation for the upcoming medical conference for
the better part of an hour. He was beginning to suspect that
deleting the entire document might be a better strategy for
improving it.

"It should be a quiet afternoon," the Bajoran persisted,
"and we can always comm you if there is an emergency."

Julian frowned. This was the third time Jabara had reminded him that
his shift was over, even though it wasn't unusual for him to stay
in the Infirmary while he was on call. Turning his complete attention
towards his head nurse, this time Julian noticed her expression, one
that he'd seen on a number of faces today. "Oh, I see,"
he said, finally catching on. "I'll be out of your hair in a
couple of minutes."

"Thank you, Doctor," Jabara smiled approvingly. "Have a
good lunch."

Julian managed a strained smile in response, but she had already
left, her mission accomplished. With a sigh, Bashir glared one last
time at his presentation before saving it to a padd, and took
it with him as he left his office. He pretended not to notice the
relief on human and Bajoran faces alike as he headed for the exit.
Considering his mood since returning from Risa, Julian acknowledged
morosely, it wasn't surprising that the entire Infirmary needed a
break from his constant moping.

Once on the Promenade, he decided to check Quark's first just in
case Miles was having a late lunch. As Bashir scanned the interior
from the lower entrance, he barely registering the presence of Ziyal
until his eyes reached her luncheon companion. Frozen in shock,
Julian clutched his padd as if it were a weapon, realizing that this
was the first time he'd seen Garak since the Cardassian had tried
to kill him.

He immediately felt embarrassed for this melodramatic reaction,
reminding himself that Garak had been aiming those quantum torpedoes
at the Founders, not him personally. Even so, Julian reflected, it
was impossible to ignore how ruthlessly the Cardassian had nearly
killed them all.

"I see you've noticed the return of our resident tailor and
saboteur." Odo observed wryly, joining Bashir at the bar's
entrance.

For a heartbeat, Julian feared that the Cardassian had escaped before
logic subdued his overactive imagination. A fugitive Garak
wouldn't be calmly eating with Ziyal, nor would Odo be watching
him with such passivity if not equanimity. His eyes not straying from
Garak, Julian asked, "Isn't he back early?"

"Time off for good behaviour." The Constable's tone of
voice made it abundantly clear what he thought of that Federation
practice.

"Of course," Bashir murmured, more to himself than to Odo,
and he barely noticed as the Changeling left his side to harass
Quark. Not allowing himself to analyse the urge, Julian also entered
the bar, selecting a seat not too close to the lunching couple yet
near enough to keep them in view.

A Ferengi waiter almost instantaneously appeared at his elbow, but
Julian was distracted by an enthusiastic cry of Dabo from across the
room. Automatically ordering a drink, he now remembered why he'd
been avoiding Quark's. He still couldn't bring himself to
appreciate the irony that the Rite of Separation had been his idea,
as had tagging along with Worf and Jadzia to Risa. The Bajoran
ceremony set in an idyllic environment was supposed to make their
break-up as smooth as possible. Instead, in the wake of Leeta's
shocking confession of her attraction to Rom and Quark's unwanted
solicitude afterwards, he'd been left hurt and humiliated.

Still, Julian did not move from his seat, for he couldn't avoid
Leeta forever. Moreover, in spite of everything, he still genuinely
cared about her, and knew that he couldn't blame her for the demise
of their relationship. During their last fight, Leeta had accused him
of deliberatly avoiding her whenever their relationship became too
serious by spending all of his off-time with Miles or his favourite
holo-characters. Having no valid defence, he had acceded to the
inevitable, having been in this position too many times before not to
recognize the end.

His drink arrived, and Julian was relieved that he'd ordered
Tarkalean tea and not something alcoholic. Bad enough that he was
alone again, he thought, there was no need to encourage his current
self-pitying mood.

As Julian poked disinterestedly at the padd before him, he tried to
convince himself that the sight of Garak and Ziyal together
didn't make him even more miserable. Watching the young girl
laugh at something Garak had just said, he felt a stab of anger at
their obvious happiness in each other's company.

Suddenly ashamed of himself, Bashir looked away, reminding himself
that it was ridiculous to feel jealous of her. Besides, Julian mused,
considering how discreet he and Garak had been, he had no way of
knowing if Ziyal and Garak were only friends or going after each
other like voles in heat.

Grimacing at the latter, unwelcome image, Julian calmed himself by
sipping his tea. Thank goodness none of the senior staff had ever
suspected him of having an affair with Garak, he reflected. At the
very least, Sisko would have curbed his security access, and Miles
certainly would never have warmed up enough to become his friend. Odo
probably would have arrested one or both of them, and Kira, Julian
involuntarily shuddered, Kira would have slapped him silly.

How could he have been so naive as to take such risks, Julian
wondered, thankful that he now restricted his more dangerous impulses
to the holosuite. But it had been exciting, he acknowledged, and for
the most part not that difficult to hide their involvement. Garak had
fortunately agreed to the wisdom of one human maxim, that discretion
was the better part of valour.

The only time Julian had been tempted to throw caution to the wind
was when an old Cardassian security program had tried to suppress a
non-existent Bajoran rebellion and nearly destroyed DS9. He
hadn't wanted to remain on the other side of Ops from Garak
during their last ditch effort to save the station, and if it
hadn't been for the presence of Dukat he might not have.
Fortunately, in the elation of their success and Dukat fleeing
Kira's ire, Garak had been able to sidle up to him unobserved,
and whisper an invitation before retreating from Ops.

After healing Miles' burns and supervising the care of the minor
injuries sustained by the crew, Julian had practically run to
Garak's quarters. The moment he was through the door, their
clothes were strewn everywhere, and they didn't make it any
further than the couch. Unable to keep their hands off each other or
slow down enough for anything as complex as penetration, they had
kissed, bit, and rubbed each other into a frenzy. It had been
animalistic, brutal, and bloody fantastic.

Julian remembered afterwards lying alone on the couch, for he'd
refused to give in to the tailor's fastidiousness as it would
require moving. He closed his eyes, letting the memory encompass him
and once again he was listening to Garak washing himself in the
refresher, and vaguely wondering what lay behind the Cardassian's
near compulsiveness regarding cleanliness. Not that he was
complaining, Bashir mused as he stretched his back cautiously. The
first time he had showered with Garak had been nothing short of a
revelation.

Wrapped in a lush, velvet robe, Garak returned and knelt beside the
couch. "Still alive?"

"Barely. You didn't happen to see my legs lying about, I
think they fell off."

"I'll see if I can locate them for you." The Cardassian
chuckled, and began to clean him with a warm, damp cloth.

"Oh, that feels wonderful," Julian groaned, closing his eyes
as Garak rubbed him down with the wash cloth.

Soon the cloth was replaced by a skilful hand, lightly stroking his
naked skin. "So beautiful," the Cardassian murmured.

Bashir snorted, then yelped when Garak pinched a nipple in
retaliation. Opening his eyes, Julian complained, "What was that
for?"

"Your inappropriate response to my observation." The
affronted expression on his lover's face was so funny, Julian
started to laugh, only to completely lose control when the Cardassian
added in mock offense, "My dear Doctor, you're not
insinuating that I am a liar?"

When he caught his breath, Julian teased, "Didn't you once
tell me that truth was in the eye of the beholder?"

"Yes," the Cardassian smiled, "but as I have the higher
developed sense of aesthetics, you should defer to my opinion in this
matter." Tilting his head as if puzzling something out, he
chided, "Beauty is nothing to be ashamed of, my dear."

"Should I be proud of something I'm not responsible for?"
Julian responded, suddenly serious. He turned his head away,
recalling the fuss he'd caused when his classmates at Starfleet
Medical voted him the sexiest intern and he'd refused to accept
the accolade. As far as he was concerned, the geneticists on Adigeon
Prime could walk away with such honours.

"Julian, I find it very disturbing that someone with such brazen
overconfidence in his abilities, is so insecure about his appearance.
Or is this somehow related to the human virtue of modesty, pretending
to be ashamed of your outer beauty?"

"It's not insecurity or -." Julian abruptly sat up,
meeting his lover's eyes. "Look Garak, just drop it.
You're never going to make me agree that I'm beautiful."

Garak's fingers stilled, his eyes gaining an intensity that
caused Julian to shudder. "Is that a challenge, Doctor?"

Julian stepped back from the memory of the sudden surge of arousal,
almost painful in its intensity. God, to this day he was so ashamed.
Not for the fantasy of Garak forcing him to make a confession, he
knew from his basic psych training that there was nothing inherently
wrong with sexual games of domination and submission. Hell, Julian
reflected, fiddling with his tea mug, his British ancestors had
practically perfected such play. No, he was ashamed because that
night he had forgotten that he was living out his fantasy of torture
with someone for whom it had not always been a game.

This was the point where Julian always stopped remembering, never
revisiting the remainder of that evening. For it would be far closer
to reliving the event than what most people meant when they used that
phrase, as his enhanced recall could make the past become the present
again. And why would he want to return to that place in time, Julian
reflected, when his mistake of ever becoming Garak's lover had
been compounded by the disgrace of forgetting who and what the
Cardassian was?

Glancing over at Elim chatting amiably with Ziyal, he decided that
for once he wanted to remember the rest. Not allowing himself to
question this sudden desire to punish himself, Bashir closed his eyes
and took a deep breath. "You're never going to make me agree
that I'm beautiful," Julian whispered to himself, triggering
his enhanced memory.

Garak's fingers stilled, icy blue eyes piercing Bashir's with
such intensity that he couldn't prevent himself from shuddering.
"Is that a challenge, Doctor?"

His sudden arousal was overwhelming, and he was hardening again, so
rapidly that it was almost painful. "Yes," he managed,
somewhere between a hiss and a moan, "if you think you are up to
the task, *tailor*." Deliberately using the same title Dukat had
used so insultingly. Garak, with a flicker of a smile, rose to his
feet and told him sternly, "Remain here."

"And if I don't?" Unable to resist the mischievous
impulse to challenge his lover's authority.

Garak reached towards him and he flinched instinctively, but the
Cardassian didn't strike him. Instead, he lifted Julian's
chin up and leaned down, bestowing a brief kiss. "I'll
stop," Garak murmured, giving the skin of Bashir's jaw a
sharp pinch before releasing his hold, and retreating into the
bedroom. Julian's breathing became so loud he could not hear what
was being prepared for him, but despite his overwhelming curiosity,
he did not move. Garak's threat had been too perfect.

When his lover reentered the room dressed in a plain, dark outfit, it
made Julian feel vulnerable in his own nudity, and even more
excited. "Stand up," the Cardassian ordered briskly, and
without thinking Bashir obeyed. When Garak blindfolded him, he
thought his self-control was going to completely disintegrate.
"You know what you have to confess to make this stop?" Garak
whispered, and Julian nodded, reassured that they both understood
this was only a game.

With a suddenness that disoriented him, Julian was spun around and
hauled backwards, barely keeping on his feet. That slight bit of
control was lost as he was launched onto the unforgiving surface
of the Cardassian's bed. Bashir didn't even have a chance to
try to get up before he felt the bite of restraints at his ankles.
Then his upper body was pinned down by his lover, and Julian could
not hold back a moan as his wrists were shackled.

Just as abruptly, the weight on him was gone, and Julian lay
abandoned, straining against his bonds and the sudden silence. The
knowledge that he was being watched while blind and helpless
amplified his arousal until he felt that he would explode from the
tension alone. "Garak, please," Julian groaned, unable to
remain quiet.

The first touch, a sharp fingernail scraping along his left inner
thigh, caused his whole body to convulse. This overreaction earned a
soft chuckle from the Cardassian, "Ready to confess so soon, my
dear?"

"No - ahhh!" Something struck him, landing exactly where
Garak had scratched him. Julian was still trying to figure out what
had hit him, when another sharp blow to the opposite thigh stopped
all analysis.

"I trust I have your complete attention now?"

"Yes," a whisper, not daring any louder for fear of what he
would sound like.

Something smooth but unyielding slid up his left thigh,
threatening. "Yes - what?"

"Yes sir," he tried to sound defiant, but his voice betrayed
his need.

"Better," the unknown weapon slid all the way up to his hip,
bypassing his erection, and Julian wasn't sure if he was relieved
or disappointed as it traced along his rib cage. "I was going to
take it easy on you," the amusement in Garak's tones felt so
much more threatening than Dukat's sharp reprimands. "Warm
you up first."

Now the stiff edge of the implement was teasing each of
his nipples in turn, making it very difficult for Bashir to focus on
the Cardassian's words. "But I can see you've already
started without me." Without warning, his left nipple exploded,
and just beyond his cry of pain Julian could hear his lover
chastise,"naughty, naughty."

Despite Julian's perfect recall, each torment began to merge into
the next, a blending of sharp pain and Garak's voice, of
unbearable heat and ever increasing need. One instant caressed and
the next punished, until it was all the same, for his torturer never
went near the one part of him so desperately in need of attention.
This was what finally broke him. Not the commanding but amused voice,
nor the throbbing welts that he didn't bother using a dermal
regenerator on the next day, but the ecstasy of climax so
tantalizingly close and yet so ruthlessly denied.

Struggling as much as his restraints permitted, Julian was reduced to
begging Garak to take him into his mouth, to touch his erection, to
do anything, before finally admitting, "You were right."

"Of course, I was." Fingernails raked the tender skin of
Bashir's inner thighs for emphasis, eliciting a sharp cry. "I
hardly need you to tell me that."

"Oh, please," Julian held out for a second longer, and then
it burst out of him in a rush. "You were right, I'm
beautiful, just please, please Elim, let me come - oh God."

A hum of pleasure emanated from the Cardassian that Julian swore he
could feel reverberate right through him. He expected to be
immediately released, in more ways than one, but instead, Garak bent
his head over his ear, almost but not quite touching him. "Now,
my very dear Doctor, should I reward you for finally admitting I was
right," a deliberate, agonizing pause, "or punish you for
making me wait so long?"

A shudder and a strangled sob was Julian's inarticulate
response. "Now that is hardly an answer," Garak mocked, as he
rose from the bed. "Perhaps, I should leave you here to think it
over for a while, unable to move, unable to touch yourself."

"Punish me." Julian pleaded, shame and excitement fighting
for dominance in his voice.

Immediately, the Cardassian's body was pressed against his, the
heat of it making Julian delirious. "Oh, my love," Garak
promised,"I'm going to do both."

"Are you sure you don't want something else, Doctor?"

Julian started, and the gaudy interior of Quark's bar came back
into focus. He mumbled a request for the daily special at the
hovering Ferengi waiter to avoid the hard sell patter inflicted on
loiterers. He certainly had no intention of getting up to leave, not
until the effects of his recent trip down memory lane had faded
somewhat.

It had been without a doubt, Julian reflected, the most intense
orgasm he had ever experienced. He still could barely remember being
released from his bonds before slipping into unconsciousness, and the
next morning had passed in a daze. It wasn't until long after he
had left the Cardassian's quarters that Bashir realized Garak had
actually used the word love for the first time.

Then three days later, Julian had received a message from an unknown
Cardassian source, although the moment he opened it he knew who had
manipulated his curiosity for his own ends. His horror grew as he
realized what he was reading and who had written it, but was unable
to turn away, not even from the pictures of six year old Zalan
Premak's mutilated hand.

Julian had not made it to the closest refresher, nor to the disposal
unit in the lab just outside his door. Instead, he had vomited
helplessly into the closest recycling bin in his office. Jabara had
immediately summoned Dr. Girani, but thankfully had not insisted on
him staying to be examined, accepting his explanation of a bad meal
at Quark's.

Somehow Julian managed to close down the incriminating files before
lurching to his quarters, where he wore off at least two layers of
skin in the sonic shower. Afterwards, Bashir had gone to Garak's
shop to confront the erstwhile tailor with what he had just learned,
all the while berating himself for being so hopelessly naive.

Julian watched Ziyal smiling at Garak and realized that everything he
had told himself then and every day since had all been a lie. He
hadn't been a gullible child suffering from the blindness of a
first crush, nor had he fooled himself into believing that Garak had
reformed. The interrogation report and pictures sent by Tain had not
told him anything new; Julian had known what Garak was when he had
allowed the Cardassian to seduce him.

He had known before Garak had nearly destroyed them all in order to
eradicate the Founders, before he had tried to end the holosuite
program jeopardizing the senior staff's lives, and even before the
Cardassian had tortured Odo. After all, the Changeling had made it
very clear to him what the Obsidian Order was, and for all the lies,
Garak had done nothing during his breakdown but try to shock him with
what he had been.

No, Julian thought, he hadn't been a naive fool, the truth was so
much uglier than that. This was why he always shied away from the
memory of their last time together. That night he had submitted
himself so thoroughly to his lover, because earlier, as the
station's security program went mad, Garak had not been a tailor
anymore. The truth was that Dr. Julian Bashir had always been
attracted to the unreformed Garak, the Obsidian Order agent.

Hardly surprising, Julian reflected bitterly, considering all of the
spy novels and holo-programs he'd devoured as a teen. The
excitement and danger, the total immersion into a secret identity, a
life that mirrored his own but coated with protective layers of
fantasy and escapism. Then so soon after arriving on the frontier of
space, a real life spy had sat down across from him and he had been
lost.

No wonder, Julian thought, that he had begged Garak to punish him
that night, for he deep down he had known he deserved it. For he
hadn't fallen in love with all that was good in the Cardassian,
not in the intelligent, literate, and surprisingly gentle side of
Elim. Not the man who was capable of letting Dr. Lang and her
students escape, or showing compassion for Cardassian war orphans.
No, he had been attracted to and loved the dangerous, ruthless spy of
his imagination. Their relationship had simply been a game to him,
Julian lambasted himself, and it had taken the pictures of Zalan
Premak to wake him up to his own guilt.

Looking down, he realized that his food had long since arrived and
gone cold. He really should return to his quarters, Julian thought,
he was on half-shifts right now in order to prepare for the
conference on Meezan Four. Maybe he needed to get away from DS9 for
a while, he thought, focus on his medical work, the work that was
supposed to make up for all the advantages he had been given and
didn't deserve. The one part of his life where he didn't feel
like a fraud. At the very least, sitting here beating himself up
wasn't getting the medical paper done, and the deadline was
looming.

Startled out of these musings by a gentle pressure on his shoulder,
Julian realized that Garak was practically standing over him, a
concerned expression on his face. "Are you alright, Doctor?"

"Of course."

Blue eyes acknowledged the lie in that automatic response, but
thankfully let it pass. "Ziyal and I were wondering if you would
care to join us." He released his hold on the Doctor to indicate
the young girl at the nearby table, and Bashir found himself
regretting the loss of physical contact and feeling foolish for that
regret.

"Yes, I'd like that," he answered quickly, although it
wasn't entirely true. But he kept his eyes averted from
Garak's as he picked up his padd and followed him to where Ziyal
waited, concern obvious in her expression as she welcomed him to
their table. Just how bloody bad did he look, Julian wondered, as he
thanked her for the invitation, grateful that at least her eyes did
not pierce his. "It was kind of you to ask me to join you."

"We couldn't help but notice that for someone recently
returned from a vacation, you don't appear very relaxed." The
tailor commented diplomatically.

"What? No, I've just been busy since I got back." He kept
his attention on the friendly, open face of Ziyal, avoiding
Garak's more discerning gaze. "But I'm alright,
really."

Of course he was alright, Julian mused bitterly. The longest
relationship he had ever managed to keep going had ended, and Leeta
had made it very clear on Risa that she had already moved on. Worse
still, Julian thought, watching Garak chatting with Ziyal about some
upcoming conference on Bajor, he was still in love with someone else
for all the wrong reasons. Someone who had also, very clearly, moved
on.

Why wouldn't he be alright? *Amor vincit omnia.*

- end -





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