No Time for Tears (DS9)
Title: No Time for Tears
Rating: PG
Summary: A young Garak has to reach a difficult decision.
DISCLAIMER: Paramount owns the Star Trek universe and everything it encompasses. This story is not intended to infringe on any copyrights, and the only profit I gain by it is emotional satisfaction.
NOTE: This story was written in September 1999 as a means of venting grief over the death of my family's longtime and devoted canine companion. Wherever she is, I hope she's free of the arthritis that crippled her for the last few years of her life and has an unlimited supply of warm car roofs to sunbathe on, cats to chase and be chased by, delivery men to bark at, butts to sniff and toilet bowls to drink out of.
The boy threw a hand up before his face, shielding his eyes from the bright light as someone opened the door. He knew without guessing who the interloper was, and huddled farther back, wishing he could make himself invisible.
The tall, stocky figure standing in the half-open doorway heaved his shoulders in an exaggerated sigh. "Don't make me come in after you, Elim," he said. His tone was unusually gentle -- when had Elim ever heard him speak with any kindness? -- but Elim could not ignore the command it conveyed. If he did not do as ordered, punishment would be swift and severe. Nevertheless, he would rather face punishment than the alternative.
"No," he said, wishing his voice were not so thin and reedy. How could he be convincing with a little boy's voice?
"This is no time for games. This is your chance to act like a man, Elim. Come out now, or I'll send Mila to fetch you."
A single, defiant tear formed in the corner of one eye as Elim's lower lip began to tremble. "She wouldn't do that to me!"
"Yes, she would, if she thinks it's for your own good. You have a responsibility. Now come out and take it, or you'll be sorry."
Elim's stomach churned as he thought of his 'responsibility.' How could his father be so cool, so distant? It was Enabran's way, that's how. A way of keeping everyone at arm's length, so he would never be seen as weak. Elim wished he could be like his father.
He reluctantly crawled out from the back of the closet and into the light. Enabran looked down on him, a scowl on his face, then reached down and grabbed Elim by the scruff of his neck, pulling the boy to his feet. "A Cardassian does not shirk responsibility," he said, cuffing Elim on the ear, then shoving him out of the closet. "Now do as you're expected."
Elim slunk down the hall, then through the door leading to the back room, his father close behind him. The light from the corridor spilled into the room, and Elim heard a faint thumping of a thick tail against padding in response, then a shuffle, whine, yelp, then finally a thump and a sigh as his beloved pet riding hound tried, then failed, to rise and greet him. Elim's heart sank. He couldn't do it. He turned back to Enabran to plead for release, but his father merely took his hand and pressed a loaded hypospray into it, curling Elim's fingers around the instrument before he dropped it.
"You know what's expected of you," Enabran said. "Don't make him suffer any longer than he has to."
"Father, please," the boy begged. "Don't make me --"
"It's time you became a man, Elim. Time to take responsibility."
The boy choked back another tear, then turned and trudged across the room to where the animal lay. He held out his empty hand to the hound's nose, smiling to himself at the rasp of a tongue across his palm. Then he ran his hand across the animal's flank, stroking the dense fur, his adept fingers following the swirl of hairs where shoulder met barrel. All the while, the tail, the only sign of the hound's once-great vitality, thumped steadily against the bedding.
"You've been a good friend," Elim whispered. "My only friend." He shut his eyes to squeeze back the tears before they started to fall.
Then, holding his breath, Elim brought up his other hand, the one holding the hypospray, and gently pressed the nozzle against the hound's carotid artery. As the hypospray released its contents with a soft hiss, he released his breath through his nose. The tail thumped a few more times, then all movement ceased as the hound's magnificent heart finally stopped beating. This time, Elim let the tears fall freely.
A hand came to rest on his shoulder, and a gentle voice said, "Good job, Son. I'm proud of you." Then Enabran left.
As solitude fell over him like a shroud, Elim Garak vowed he would never allow himself to love another creature as much as he had loved his riding hound. He would be just like his father.
Rating: PG
Summary: A young Garak has to reach a difficult decision.
DISCLAIMER: Paramount owns the Star Trek universe and everything it encompasses. This story is not intended to infringe on any copyrights, and the only profit I gain by it is emotional satisfaction.
NOTE: This story was written in September 1999 as a means of venting grief over the death of my family's longtime and devoted canine companion. Wherever she is, I hope she's free of the arthritis that crippled her for the last few years of her life and has an unlimited supply of warm car roofs to sunbathe on, cats to chase and be chased by, delivery men to bark at, butts to sniff and toilet bowls to drink out of.
The boy threw a hand up before his face, shielding his eyes from the bright light as someone opened the door. He knew without guessing who the interloper was, and huddled farther back, wishing he could make himself invisible.
The tall, stocky figure standing in the half-open doorway heaved his shoulders in an exaggerated sigh. "Don't make me come in after you, Elim," he said. His tone was unusually gentle -- when had Elim ever heard him speak with any kindness? -- but Elim could not ignore the command it conveyed. If he did not do as ordered, punishment would be swift and severe. Nevertheless, he would rather face punishment than the alternative.
"No," he said, wishing his voice were not so thin and reedy. How could he be convincing with a little boy's voice?
"This is no time for games. This is your chance to act like a man, Elim. Come out now, or I'll send Mila to fetch you."
A single, defiant tear formed in the corner of one eye as Elim's lower lip began to tremble. "She wouldn't do that to me!"
"Yes, she would, if she thinks it's for your own good. You have a responsibility. Now come out and take it, or you'll be sorry."
Elim's stomach churned as he thought of his 'responsibility.' How could his father be so cool, so distant? It was Enabran's way, that's how. A way of keeping everyone at arm's length, so he would never be seen as weak. Elim wished he could be like his father.
He reluctantly crawled out from the back of the closet and into the light. Enabran looked down on him, a scowl on his face, then reached down and grabbed Elim by the scruff of his neck, pulling the boy to his feet. "A Cardassian does not shirk responsibility," he said, cuffing Elim on the ear, then shoving him out of the closet. "Now do as you're expected."
Elim slunk down the hall, then through the door leading to the back room, his father close behind him. The light from the corridor spilled into the room, and Elim heard a faint thumping of a thick tail against padding in response, then a shuffle, whine, yelp, then finally a thump and a sigh as his beloved pet riding hound tried, then failed, to rise and greet him. Elim's heart sank. He couldn't do it. He turned back to Enabran to plead for release, but his father merely took his hand and pressed a loaded hypospray into it, curling Elim's fingers around the instrument before he dropped it.
"You know what's expected of you," Enabran said. "Don't make him suffer any longer than he has to."
"Father, please," the boy begged. "Don't make me --"
"It's time you became a man, Elim. Time to take responsibility."
The boy choked back another tear, then turned and trudged across the room to where the animal lay. He held out his empty hand to the hound's nose, smiling to himself at the rasp of a tongue across his palm. Then he ran his hand across the animal's flank, stroking the dense fur, his adept fingers following the swirl of hairs where shoulder met barrel. All the while, the tail, the only sign of the hound's once-great vitality, thumped steadily against the bedding.
"You've been a good friend," Elim whispered. "My only friend." He shut his eyes to squeeze back the tears before they started to fall.
Then, holding his breath, Elim brought up his other hand, the one holding the hypospray, and gently pressed the nozzle against the hound's carotid artery. As the hypospray released its contents with a soft hiss, he released his breath through his nose. The tail thumped a few more times, then all movement ceased as the hound's magnificent heart finally stopped beating. This time, Elim let the tears fall freely.
A hand came to rest on his shoulder, and a gentle voice said, "Good job, Son. I'm proud of you." Then Enabran left.
As solitude fell over him like a shroud, Elim Garak vowed he would never allow himself to love another creature as much as he had loved his riding hound. He would be just like his father.