FIC: Swandive (1/2)
This story is…
Sitting in Philadelphia with the remains of my family. Listening to The Swans. Proof that maybe innocence is more useful than experience when it comes to writing a good sex and death scene. And writing stories and killing off characters in fiction is the easiest way to kill them for your mind. Then you can’t get it back. Maybe for the best. Something new growing. Probably the height of my teenage angst. Books from Giovanni’s Room, Hollinghurst and Holleran and Cooper and White.
*
Swandive
by eggblue
Notes: Written in May-June 1999, Garak/Bashir (Deep Space Nine), takes place after my “Fairytale…”, around 5th season episodes
DISTRIBUTION: Ask me first, thanks.
DISCLAIMER: Characters, station, and Star Trek belong to Paramount.
WARNING: This story contains non-consensual sex and violence, character death.
For Invicta, Hel, Blue, Casey and all my early slash friends. I miss you guys.
**********
And we steal our experience from an object that suffers
But the brightest pain leaves a shadow on no one
I saw you through the window masturbating to the violence
And the blood and the bodies floated through the blue sun...
But you’re beautiful, and you’re real
Are you beautiful, are you real?
-- SWANS, “Telepathy”
**********
Alone again, and always, always alone.
All he could see was darkness. He couldn’t even hear himself breathe or his heart beating. But he felt the pain. It surrounded him like a blanket, like the blackness, and it was all he could feel.
His mind was completely out of his control, journeying to places unbidden, keeping him awake when all he craved was the empty silence of sleep. It was as if his mind was punishing him as well, destroying itself like his body had been destroyed, utterly, completely. Every dark place he had ever been, every nightmare, every horrible truth that he had ever known came back to him in wave after wave of torturous thought.
His disastrous life as Jules, the pity, the disappointment, the frustration. His parents and their solution. Even things that he hadn’t remembered in years. His time spent at Adigeon Prime, his loneliness in school, his father’s face as he threatened him at 15, the way he felt when his world came crashing down. The look in his ballerina’s eyes when she left him, relieved, pitying.
The days he learned what sex was, and war, and disease. The hunger of knowledge and the emptiness of truth. The hope for freedom that the station brought, and the reality of his prison. Everything that he escaped from in the holosuites, and in his work, and in his mind.
All of the beauty was stripped away like it never existed, and the clarity Julian felt left him gasping for air, and for one solid thing to hold onto as the tide of blackness kept coming, and coming, and coming...
Then finally, there was light again.
And Garak.
Julian would have expected anyone else to be his savior from this place, anyone except Garak. In fact, he hadn’t thought about the Cardassian tailor, his weekly lunch companion, in what seemed like forever. Garak just didn’t work like that. He was... different, in every respect. For this reason, or perhaps another, Julian found himself unable to leave his friend’s side, or erase his image from the forefront of his mind. The next few days passed in a blur for him. Meanwhile, no one ever mentioned the rape he suffered at the hands of the Jem’Hadar to himself or Garak, and he never spoke of it again.
He remembered Tain’s deathbed, how vulnerable Garak looked as he called out to his father, and something about that moment awoke something deep inside of him. He would never be able to recall exactly what it was, but as the old Cardassian passed on, Julian found a calmness that he’d never known. He watched Garak bare his soul, and beg for acknowledgment, and then saw the frustration and anger, the devastation, at being given so little in return. At that same moment, kneeling on the cold floor, Garak lost the only reason that he’d ever found, and his past and future faded into nothing more than a shadow caused by a setting sun.
***
Just when Martok thought that it couldn’t get any worse, his rescuers showed up. Not that they were much comfort. Worf might have been a good friend, but if he were looking for someone to help him escape from a prison, Worf would not be his first choice. Now Garak, he was another matter entirely. But where Worf might lack the ingenuity, Garak lacked any semblance of trustworthiness. And as Garak now found himself surrounded by the Dominion, a former enemy that just signed a pact with Cardassia, trust was the only thing that Martok desperately needed from him. But he supposed it was for the best, because with the imminent death of Tain, their last hope for escape was lost.
As Garak worked within the wall to set up the transporter, Martok was left alone with the rest of the prisoners. The silence was uncomfortable, but he couldn’t think of anything to say. Bashir looked horrible, yes, but nowhere near as bad as he had expected. The Vorta must have has his wounds healed, and there was no other sign that anything had happened to him. It was a good thing, really, because Martok didn’t feel like talking about it, especially not with Worf there. And as far as he was concerned, it was better to never mention the ordeal again. Julian was obviously dealing with it well, as far as he could see. Perhaps the man wasn’t in so much pain, perhaps it was all in his own imagination and Bashir was never hurt that badly...
***
Garak swore that he was dying. The crushing suffocation that he felt when the light suddenly went out. The already-cramped space that he was in seemed to collapse down upon him. As the panic set in, quickly and without reason, he lashed out at the walls, banging and banging his fists, trying to break the surface. In an instant, Julian was there, holding him, leading him to safety. Too much, it was just too much. Cardassia joining the Dominion, his father giving him *nothing* on his deathbed, the hellish conditions inside the wall bringing back his claustrophobia with full force... But still, he had to get back to work. He had to free them, and get back to DS9. He owed Julian that much, didn’t he?
But owe him for what? His addled mind for the life of him couldn’t remember why it was so important that he save Julian, and the others, but he knew that he was their only hope. If his father were still alive to see him, huddled under this blanket, shaking with fear and memory, he would never have forgiven him. But then again, Tain had never forgiven him anything, and the man was dead, that was certain. For years he had lived in his father’s shadow, afraid to live a life of his own, or even learn how to live with the farce of a life that he had now. Everything that he had done in the past now meant nothing, as the man he had done them for was no longer there to watch.
To Tain, life was a hated thing to be living, and there was no room for sentiment or beauty or truth. Everything that Tain had told him he now saw clearly was a lie. And the futility of it all sickened him, and the life that he had been ignoring now crashed down upon him, like walls falling away to reveal a sun too bright for forgotten eyes.
Julian watched his friend’s back, wrapped in a blanket, shivering. He’d never known that Garak was claustrophobic, just as he had never known that Tain was his father. He felt as if he was looking at a different person, someone with vulnerabilities and weaknesses. His whole Cardassian past seemed to be shaped by the whims of one man, while whatever else that Garak had, the self that was his own, he now showed to Julian. It flattered the doctor, as he thought about it. But the worthlessness of it all, the sheer waste of time, almost made him laugh.
He felt freer than he had ever felt before, finally able to see life through eyes so open, so naked to the travesty that was going on around him. He knew what Martok thought, what everyone was thinking. That perhaps it was all over, perhaps Julian didn’t recall what had happened to him after the guards took him away. Perhaps, even, Julian would never mention it again, and they could all forget that it ever happened. That was fine with him.
He didn’t need to explain himself, or tell anyone about the Jem’Hadar, how they gut him, bled him, left him too numb to even scream. It was enough that he knew, that he remembered it all, down to every last detail. He kept the memory at the forefront of his mind, to remind him of what he must remember and what he was always meant to see. He didn’t want to be like Garak, blind for so long. He wanted to remember the pain that led to his freedom, and no one would take it away from him.
***
They arrived on DS9 without event. Julian was questioned by Starfleet, as well as everyone else. But secrets were kept and soon it was over.
He was never found out, by anyone, least of all his parents. Julian was able to carry on with his life as he had before, by making adjustments here and there. He just had to remember to keep listening to himself, to not forget. He couldn’t afford to let himself go now, not when he had so much still to discover.
Here are some things that Julian discovered:
He learned to play little games with himself when others were around. He became an expert at playing the fool, making odd jokes and innocent comments when something more serious was called for. But no one noticed because he was Julian, and besides, he was genetically engineered, so he’s always been a little strange, hasn’t he? Or so it seemed. Julian also learned to take good care of himself. He began to eat differently, only the simplest of foods and drink. He wanted to be sure to keep everything straight so as not to confuse matters. He listened to everything that his body told him, when to cut his hair, when to shower, when to sleep, when to wake up, when to exercise. He didn’t let his mind rule what his body was doing. Julian survived on instinct and intuition, so long as it didn’t bring him undue attention. And this was easy to do. His friends had their own lives, their own worries to keep them busy, and no one suspected that there was anything wrong.
Julian was sure that everything was going exactly as it should have. His work still took up alot of his time, and with the war, he was busier than ever.
***
Garak survived like he always had. He tried to find out as much information about what was happening on Cardassia as he could possibly get his hands on. But it was hard, and his heart wasn’t in it. Of all the things that Garak questioned, his loyalty to Cardassia had never been one of them. But with Tain gone, he found himself wondering if his loyalty ever lay with his home, but rather with his father. And then that dreaded trip to Empok Nor with Chief O’Brien, and his final, debilitating humiliation. He was reminded again of how his people could sometimes be, without the luster of patriotism to blind his sight. In one instant he became a brutal killer, and all he was left with was the remorse along with the accusing stare of O’Brien, cursing him when he dared to sleep.
To make matters worse, Julian attended to him in the Infirmary. If Garak had been able to sink any lower, Julian would have been the catalyst. The Cardassian’s shame grew tenfold as the doctor touched him, reminding him of his long-present feelings for his human friend. A part of him knew that he was helpless in the face of his feelings, especially now that all he believed in was stripped away. But he couldn’t give in, and lose the only shred of self-respect that he had left. Not now.
***
Julian was overcome with fascination as he touched the Cardassian’s broad chest, checking him for injuries. He was sure not to reveal any of his thoughts to his patient. But he had to admit to himself that it was quite extraordinary to see Garak like this. He remembered the Garak that he had seen shaking in the bed back at the prison camp. And he wouldn’t have thought it possible then, but the man actually seemed more shaken up now than he was when he was when suffering the shock of his claustrophobic attack.
“Well, everything seems to check out fine. I’ll have to hold you here a few more days, I’m afraid, just to make sure that all the chemicals have completely left your system. But after that’s all taken care of, you’ll be free to go,” Julian finished with a smile.
“Thank you, doctor,” Garak just closed his eyes and lay back on the bed, thankful that Julian had finished his examination. He didn’t open his eyes again until he heard the doctor leave, unable to even look at him from across the room.
***
The stars turned the darkened room into navy blue, glowing just enough to keep Julian awake. His thoughts, traveling in circles like he allowed them to do, kept revolving back to Garak. The Garak that he saw today in the Infirmary mesmerized him. It was as if the Cardassian he knew had been stripped of everything that he had once been, and all that was left was a shell. He remembered when Garak had been so confident that even Gul Dukat, Major Kira, and even Captain Sisko couldn’t faze him. Today, it seemed as if he was afraid to look Julian in the eye for more than an instant.
This Garak was horrifying to see, and achingly pathetic to Julian’s eyes. And in a moment of weakness, he saw something in Garak, something underneath the raw and worn emotions. He saw Garak reaching out to him, and trying to hide as well, like a guilty child with his hand in the cookie jar. One moment he would be unconsciously leaning into Julian’s touch, and the next, trying to forget that Julian was even in the room.
He sunk into sleep that night easily, indifferent to the unanswered questions still circling around in his mind.
***
The dream started off slowly, remaining vague and cloudy until the images built upon themselves, creating a mosaic of thought and emotion. He was watching himself with Garak from a distance. They were stripped of their clothes, kissing and fondling each other urgently, oblivious to his presence. His twin was backed up against the wall in his bedroom as Garak pressed the entire length of his body against him, holding him close. Julian watched the lovers silently, awaiting nothing.
The dream shifted again. He found his vision clouded in a gray haze, and the air surrounding him turned cold. He reached above him in a call to his own image, and found his hand blocked. The floor to his bedroom was now his ceiling, covering him and shutting him inside. He punched at the hard surface and yelled at the top of his lungs but neither man heard him.
Then he stood helplessly as the dream rearranged itself before his eyes. He was no longer buried underneath the floor, but instead, he was underwater, covered by a sheet of blue ice. The coldness was unbearable, and before he could stop it, liquid ice was flooding his lungs. Julian punched at the ceiling with all his strength, panicking and suffocating. He threw up another fist, already bloody with the force of his blows, and it broke the surface. He found his wrist encircled in a warm hand, holding him fast. Without a thought he snapped his arm back into the water, bringing his rescuer back in with him.
The ice suddenly turned dark. The water, blacker than ink, flowed around their fallen bodies. Julian reached out and found Garak, floating around his legs, holding him down. He kicked once, sending a blow straight to Garak’s lower abdomen. The Cardassian clutched at his side, taken by surprise. Swimming to the surface, Julian found his dream image waiting for him, helping him out of the cold water and into his arms. They sat together, staring at the dark surface of the pool as it rippled violently with Garak’s struggles to free himself. But neither moved to help him, and eventually the waves stopped, and even the stars disappeared after a time, and left the room to the darkness.
***
It began the night after Ziyal’s death.
Garak made up his mind. Or rather, his mind was already made up, he just decided to accept it. All the time he spent with Ziyal, protecting her from himself, and at the same time protecting himself from Julian. Now she was gone, and in the end, she left him empty as well.
Garak knew what he wanted, but the truth was hard to accept. Since his father died, he began to see everything so clearly. All the life that was around him, the parts of himself that he chose to ignore, seemed to surprise him at the worst possible moments. But how could he tell himself no? When everything was falling apart at the seams, when he was losing himself a little more each day?
He felt like a parasite had taken over his body, replacing all the long-dead parts of himself with new memories, new sensations. He craved every invasion of himself, with fear and trepidation. At the same time, the self that he remembered, spy, soldier, torturer, haunted him like never before, dredging up fears and hatred from deep inside. Garak had never felt more vulnerable. But the wonder he felt for Julian overpowered it all. He felt like a child again, where just the mention of that beautiful name could cause him to daydream, and long to forget.
Julian accepted the offer to meet Garak at his quarters at 0200 in the middle of the night. Garak tried to read his expression as his friend accepted his proposal, but he was unreadable. Plus, Garak had learned of late that he couldn’t afford to ask too many questions. It made him think of an old Terran saying, something about a horse’s mouth, but he didn’t like what it implied, so he ignored that as well.
end of part 1
Sitting in Philadelphia with the remains of my family. Listening to The Swans. Proof that maybe innocence is more useful than experience when it comes to writing a good sex and death scene. And writing stories and killing off characters in fiction is the easiest way to kill them for your mind. Then you can’t get it back. Maybe for the best. Something new growing. Probably the height of my teenage angst. Books from Giovanni’s Room, Hollinghurst and Holleran and Cooper and White.
*
Swandive
by eggblue
Notes: Written in May-June 1999, Garak/Bashir (Deep Space Nine), takes place after my “Fairytale…”, around 5th season episodes
DISTRIBUTION: Ask me first, thanks.
DISCLAIMER: Characters, station, and Star Trek belong to Paramount.
WARNING: This story contains non-consensual sex and violence, character death.
For Invicta, Hel, Blue, Casey and all my early slash friends. I miss you guys.
**********
And we steal our experience from an object that suffers
But the brightest pain leaves a shadow on no one
I saw you through the window masturbating to the violence
And the blood and the bodies floated through the blue sun...
But you’re beautiful, and you’re real
Are you beautiful, are you real?
-- SWANS, “Telepathy”
**********
Alone again, and always, always alone.
All he could see was darkness. He couldn’t even hear himself breathe or his heart beating. But he felt the pain. It surrounded him like a blanket, like the blackness, and it was all he could feel.
His mind was completely out of his control, journeying to places unbidden, keeping him awake when all he craved was the empty silence of sleep. It was as if his mind was punishing him as well, destroying itself like his body had been destroyed, utterly, completely. Every dark place he had ever been, every nightmare, every horrible truth that he had ever known came back to him in wave after wave of torturous thought.
His disastrous life as Jules, the pity, the disappointment, the frustration. His parents and their solution. Even things that he hadn’t remembered in years. His time spent at Adigeon Prime, his loneliness in school, his father’s face as he threatened him at 15, the way he felt when his world came crashing down. The look in his ballerina’s eyes when she left him, relieved, pitying.
The days he learned what sex was, and war, and disease. The hunger of knowledge and the emptiness of truth. The hope for freedom that the station brought, and the reality of his prison. Everything that he escaped from in the holosuites, and in his work, and in his mind.
All of the beauty was stripped away like it never existed, and the clarity Julian felt left him gasping for air, and for one solid thing to hold onto as the tide of blackness kept coming, and coming, and coming...
Then finally, there was light again.
And Garak.
Julian would have expected anyone else to be his savior from this place, anyone except Garak. In fact, he hadn’t thought about the Cardassian tailor, his weekly lunch companion, in what seemed like forever. Garak just didn’t work like that. He was... different, in every respect. For this reason, or perhaps another, Julian found himself unable to leave his friend’s side, or erase his image from the forefront of his mind. The next few days passed in a blur for him. Meanwhile, no one ever mentioned the rape he suffered at the hands of the Jem’Hadar to himself or Garak, and he never spoke of it again.
He remembered Tain’s deathbed, how vulnerable Garak looked as he called out to his father, and something about that moment awoke something deep inside of him. He would never be able to recall exactly what it was, but as the old Cardassian passed on, Julian found a calmness that he’d never known. He watched Garak bare his soul, and beg for acknowledgment, and then saw the frustration and anger, the devastation, at being given so little in return. At that same moment, kneeling on the cold floor, Garak lost the only reason that he’d ever found, and his past and future faded into nothing more than a shadow caused by a setting sun.
***
Just when Martok thought that it couldn’t get any worse, his rescuers showed up. Not that they were much comfort. Worf might have been a good friend, but if he were looking for someone to help him escape from a prison, Worf would not be his first choice. Now Garak, he was another matter entirely. But where Worf might lack the ingenuity, Garak lacked any semblance of trustworthiness. And as Garak now found himself surrounded by the Dominion, a former enemy that just signed a pact with Cardassia, trust was the only thing that Martok desperately needed from him. But he supposed it was for the best, because with the imminent death of Tain, their last hope for escape was lost.
As Garak worked within the wall to set up the transporter, Martok was left alone with the rest of the prisoners. The silence was uncomfortable, but he couldn’t think of anything to say. Bashir looked horrible, yes, but nowhere near as bad as he had expected. The Vorta must have has his wounds healed, and there was no other sign that anything had happened to him. It was a good thing, really, because Martok didn’t feel like talking about it, especially not with Worf there. And as far as he was concerned, it was better to never mention the ordeal again. Julian was obviously dealing with it well, as far as he could see. Perhaps the man wasn’t in so much pain, perhaps it was all in his own imagination and Bashir was never hurt that badly...
***
Garak swore that he was dying. The crushing suffocation that he felt when the light suddenly went out. The already-cramped space that he was in seemed to collapse down upon him. As the panic set in, quickly and without reason, he lashed out at the walls, banging and banging his fists, trying to break the surface. In an instant, Julian was there, holding him, leading him to safety. Too much, it was just too much. Cardassia joining the Dominion, his father giving him *nothing* on his deathbed, the hellish conditions inside the wall bringing back his claustrophobia with full force... But still, he had to get back to work. He had to free them, and get back to DS9. He owed Julian that much, didn’t he?
But owe him for what? His addled mind for the life of him couldn’t remember why it was so important that he save Julian, and the others, but he knew that he was their only hope. If his father were still alive to see him, huddled under this blanket, shaking with fear and memory, he would never have forgiven him. But then again, Tain had never forgiven him anything, and the man was dead, that was certain. For years he had lived in his father’s shadow, afraid to live a life of his own, or even learn how to live with the farce of a life that he had now. Everything that he had done in the past now meant nothing, as the man he had done them for was no longer there to watch.
To Tain, life was a hated thing to be living, and there was no room for sentiment or beauty or truth. Everything that Tain had told him he now saw clearly was a lie. And the futility of it all sickened him, and the life that he had been ignoring now crashed down upon him, like walls falling away to reveal a sun too bright for forgotten eyes.
Julian watched his friend’s back, wrapped in a blanket, shivering. He’d never known that Garak was claustrophobic, just as he had never known that Tain was his father. He felt as if he was looking at a different person, someone with vulnerabilities and weaknesses. His whole Cardassian past seemed to be shaped by the whims of one man, while whatever else that Garak had, the self that was his own, he now showed to Julian. It flattered the doctor, as he thought about it. But the worthlessness of it all, the sheer waste of time, almost made him laugh.
He felt freer than he had ever felt before, finally able to see life through eyes so open, so naked to the travesty that was going on around him. He knew what Martok thought, what everyone was thinking. That perhaps it was all over, perhaps Julian didn’t recall what had happened to him after the guards took him away. Perhaps, even, Julian would never mention it again, and they could all forget that it ever happened. That was fine with him.
He didn’t need to explain himself, or tell anyone about the Jem’Hadar, how they gut him, bled him, left him too numb to even scream. It was enough that he knew, that he remembered it all, down to every last detail. He kept the memory at the forefront of his mind, to remind him of what he must remember and what he was always meant to see. He didn’t want to be like Garak, blind for so long. He wanted to remember the pain that led to his freedom, and no one would take it away from him.
***
They arrived on DS9 without event. Julian was questioned by Starfleet, as well as everyone else. But secrets were kept and soon it was over.
He was never found out, by anyone, least of all his parents. Julian was able to carry on with his life as he had before, by making adjustments here and there. He just had to remember to keep listening to himself, to not forget. He couldn’t afford to let himself go now, not when he had so much still to discover.
Here are some things that Julian discovered:
He learned to play little games with himself when others were around. He became an expert at playing the fool, making odd jokes and innocent comments when something more serious was called for. But no one noticed because he was Julian, and besides, he was genetically engineered, so he’s always been a little strange, hasn’t he? Or so it seemed. Julian also learned to take good care of himself. He began to eat differently, only the simplest of foods and drink. He wanted to be sure to keep everything straight so as not to confuse matters. He listened to everything that his body told him, when to cut his hair, when to shower, when to sleep, when to wake up, when to exercise. He didn’t let his mind rule what his body was doing. Julian survived on instinct and intuition, so long as it didn’t bring him undue attention. And this was easy to do. His friends had their own lives, their own worries to keep them busy, and no one suspected that there was anything wrong.
Julian was sure that everything was going exactly as it should have. His work still took up alot of his time, and with the war, he was busier than ever.
***
Garak survived like he always had. He tried to find out as much information about what was happening on Cardassia as he could possibly get his hands on. But it was hard, and his heart wasn’t in it. Of all the things that Garak questioned, his loyalty to Cardassia had never been one of them. But with Tain gone, he found himself wondering if his loyalty ever lay with his home, but rather with his father. And then that dreaded trip to Empok Nor with Chief O’Brien, and his final, debilitating humiliation. He was reminded again of how his people could sometimes be, without the luster of patriotism to blind his sight. In one instant he became a brutal killer, and all he was left with was the remorse along with the accusing stare of O’Brien, cursing him when he dared to sleep.
To make matters worse, Julian attended to him in the Infirmary. If Garak had been able to sink any lower, Julian would have been the catalyst. The Cardassian’s shame grew tenfold as the doctor touched him, reminding him of his long-present feelings for his human friend. A part of him knew that he was helpless in the face of his feelings, especially now that all he believed in was stripped away. But he couldn’t give in, and lose the only shred of self-respect that he had left. Not now.
***
Julian was overcome with fascination as he touched the Cardassian’s broad chest, checking him for injuries. He was sure not to reveal any of his thoughts to his patient. But he had to admit to himself that it was quite extraordinary to see Garak like this. He remembered the Garak that he had seen shaking in the bed back at the prison camp. And he wouldn’t have thought it possible then, but the man actually seemed more shaken up now than he was when he was when suffering the shock of his claustrophobic attack.
“Well, everything seems to check out fine. I’ll have to hold you here a few more days, I’m afraid, just to make sure that all the chemicals have completely left your system. But after that’s all taken care of, you’ll be free to go,” Julian finished with a smile.
“Thank you, doctor,” Garak just closed his eyes and lay back on the bed, thankful that Julian had finished his examination. He didn’t open his eyes again until he heard the doctor leave, unable to even look at him from across the room.
***
The stars turned the darkened room into navy blue, glowing just enough to keep Julian awake. His thoughts, traveling in circles like he allowed them to do, kept revolving back to Garak. The Garak that he saw today in the Infirmary mesmerized him. It was as if the Cardassian he knew had been stripped of everything that he had once been, and all that was left was a shell. He remembered when Garak had been so confident that even Gul Dukat, Major Kira, and even Captain Sisko couldn’t faze him. Today, it seemed as if he was afraid to look Julian in the eye for more than an instant.
This Garak was horrifying to see, and achingly pathetic to Julian’s eyes. And in a moment of weakness, he saw something in Garak, something underneath the raw and worn emotions. He saw Garak reaching out to him, and trying to hide as well, like a guilty child with his hand in the cookie jar. One moment he would be unconsciously leaning into Julian’s touch, and the next, trying to forget that Julian was even in the room.
He sunk into sleep that night easily, indifferent to the unanswered questions still circling around in his mind.
***
The dream started off slowly, remaining vague and cloudy until the images built upon themselves, creating a mosaic of thought and emotion. He was watching himself with Garak from a distance. They were stripped of their clothes, kissing and fondling each other urgently, oblivious to his presence. His twin was backed up against the wall in his bedroom as Garak pressed the entire length of his body against him, holding him close. Julian watched the lovers silently, awaiting nothing.
The dream shifted again. He found his vision clouded in a gray haze, and the air surrounding him turned cold. He reached above him in a call to his own image, and found his hand blocked. The floor to his bedroom was now his ceiling, covering him and shutting him inside. He punched at the hard surface and yelled at the top of his lungs but neither man heard him.
Then he stood helplessly as the dream rearranged itself before his eyes. He was no longer buried underneath the floor, but instead, he was underwater, covered by a sheet of blue ice. The coldness was unbearable, and before he could stop it, liquid ice was flooding his lungs. Julian punched at the ceiling with all his strength, panicking and suffocating. He threw up another fist, already bloody with the force of his blows, and it broke the surface. He found his wrist encircled in a warm hand, holding him fast. Without a thought he snapped his arm back into the water, bringing his rescuer back in with him.
The ice suddenly turned dark. The water, blacker than ink, flowed around their fallen bodies. Julian reached out and found Garak, floating around his legs, holding him down. He kicked once, sending a blow straight to Garak’s lower abdomen. The Cardassian clutched at his side, taken by surprise. Swimming to the surface, Julian found his dream image waiting for him, helping him out of the cold water and into his arms. They sat together, staring at the dark surface of the pool as it rippled violently with Garak’s struggles to free himself. But neither moved to help him, and eventually the waves stopped, and even the stars disappeared after a time, and left the room to the darkness.
***
It began the night after Ziyal’s death.
Garak made up his mind. Or rather, his mind was already made up, he just decided to accept it. All the time he spent with Ziyal, protecting her from himself, and at the same time protecting himself from Julian. Now she was gone, and in the end, she left him empty as well.
Garak knew what he wanted, but the truth was hard to accept. Since his father died, he began to see everything so clearly. All the life that was around him, the parts of himself that he chose to ignore, seemed to surprise him at the worst possible moments. But how could he tell himself no? When everything was falling apart at the seams, when he was losing himself a little more each day?
He felt like a parasite had taken over his body, replacing all the long-dead parts of himself with new memories, new sensations. He craved every invasion of himself, with fear and trepidation. At the same time, the self that he remembered, spy, soldier, torturer, haunted him like never before, dredging up fears and hatred from deep inside. Garak had never felt more vulnerable. But the wonder he felt for Julian overpowered it all. He felt like a child again, where just the mention of that beautiful name could cause him to daydream, and long to forget.
Julian accepted the offer to meet Garak at his quarters at 0200 in the middle of the night. Garak tried to read his expression as his friend accepted his proposal, but he was unreadable. Plus, Garak had learned of late that he couldn’t afford to ask too many questions. It made him think of an old Terran saying, something about a horse’s mouth, but he didn’t like what it implied, so he ignored that as well.
end of part 1