DS9 FanFic, "Distraction," G/B, PG-13, 2/2
Part 2 of 2.
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He reached what had been the tiny cabin. His brain did not seem to be working quite properly, but he noticed that the cabin had not, in fact, completely collapsed. There might be enough room there…
“Garak!” No answer. Louder: “Garak!!!” Silence. Bashir filled his lungs and screamed with a force that ripped through his throat to produce the loudest cry he could manage: “GARAK!!!”
From behind that awful pile of rocks came a familiar voice.
“I’m… here, doctor. No need to yell.”
Bashir felt as if his bones had left him. He sat down suddenly, unable to stand. His throat hurt.
“Well…” he began. The sound came out as a hoarse rasp. He cleared his throat and tried again.
“Well. Are you hurt?”
“Not to speak of.”
“What does that mean?” Bashir asked sharply.
Bashir heard a faint chuckle, but it sounded forced.
“Luck seems to have been on my side. I have some minor cuts and bruises, and only a small rock saw fit to land on my head.”
Bashir snapped belatedly into doctor mode. This made everything clear, sharp and simple, for which he was grateful.
“Are you bleeding? Is your vision clear? Is there any weakness on one side of your face or body? Can you move your limbs?”
“No, yes, no and yes. I believe I’m fine for the moment, doctor. But we do have a problem.”
Bashir was listening to Garak’s voice for any slurring. It seemed clear enough. It took him another second to re-play the comment for its meaning.
“What’s the matter? Don’t you have your emergency beam-out anklet on? Activate it and let’s get out of here.”
“Well. Yes. I do have the anklet on. However, I can’t reach it.”
“You… can’t reach it?” An image of Garak’s foot, severed from his body, wearing the anklet, flashed through Bashir’s mind. “What do you mean you can’t reach it?!”
“Doctor, please. There’s really no need to shout.”
Bashir’s jaw clenched shut. “What do you mean you can’t reach it?” he repeated softly, through his teeth.
“I mean, the beacon, and my ankle, are wedged beneath a boulder.”
Bashir’s chest began to tighten. “And you didn’t think to mention that a moment ago, when you assuring me that you were fine?”
“To be honest, doctor, I do not believe my ankle is broken. In any case, it doesn’t hurt.” Not much, he added to himself. “It’s merely… inaccessible.”
“Garak. How could a boulder have landed on your foot and not crushed it?”
“A portion of the floor seems to have collapsed during the quake. My leg is resting in a shallow trough. I am pinned, but my leg is intact.”
Bashir was silent.
“Well, doctor, this has been an exciting adventure, just as you wished for. Luckily, you insisted on safety protocols, so, if you don’t mind, just go ahead and activate your own beacon, and we can bring this trip to an end.” Garak used all his skill to keep his voice light and lilting, and almost succeeded. He waited for Bashir’s answer.
More silence.
“Doctor?” There was a definite strain in that word. “Speak to me.”
Bashir swallowed. “I… don’t have it.”
“What?”
“My beacon. I don’t have it.”
“You don’t… Where is it?”
“I… had an insect bite underneath it. I took it off to apply an ointment. I guess I forgot to put it back on.”
“Doctor. I fervently hope that you did this outside at the picnic table and that you are now going to walk over there and retrieve it.” Garak was stalling for time. He understood immediately what the situation was, and his mind was racing as he analyzed every possibility.
“No. It’s in the cabin. Maybe it’s near you…?”
Garak devoted only a small portion of his mind to his answer. “In case you haven’t noticed, doctor, the cabin has collapsed. I’m in a small space. It’s dark. I believe I’m in what used to be the living room. Where did you leave your beacon?”
“In my bedroom.”
“Well then.” Garak tried to keep his mind on his analysis. Up until a few moments ago, he believed that he would be removed from this… place… in moments. Now that he understood differently, it was starting to happen. I can control this, he told himself firmly. I will control this.
His breathing began to speed up.
“Wait!” Bashir suddenly thought of something. “The picnic table!” He leapt to his feet and sprinted away. Garak felt his sudden absence like a loss of air. He began to pant.
“I’ve got it!”
Garak’s heart soared. “The beacon?”
“No.”
The walls. Just how close were they?
“I have my medical tricorder.”
Garak felt a coldness begin to creep into him. “How fortunate. You could monitor my condition, if you weren’t just about to leave me to go get help.”
Amazingly, Bashir chuckled.
“I’m not leaving you, Garak. Medical tricorders have a universal emergency signal built in. I can emit a call for help. I can’t send a specific message, but I can send a wide-range signal and receive an answering blip. It’s pretty primitive, but it’s not really used very often. It’s kind of a redundant feature. There.”
“Doctor, you never cease to amaze me.” He tried to concentrate on slowing his breathing, and convincing himself that the walls were not any closer than they had been a few moments ago.
When Bashir had realized that he could send a finder blip, he’d been hit by a wave of giddiness. That elation now slipped away as reality hit him. It could be two or three days before help reached them. Garak was trapped, trapped in a small, dark space. Bashir remembered how working in the tiny crawlspace for hours had taken its toll on the Cardassian in the Dominion prisoner camp. How in the world would he cope for two or three days?
As though he were the one trapped, panic swept over him. Without thinking, he flung himself at the rubble, clawing and grabbing at the rocks, trying to clear an opening through sheer rage.
“Doctor? What are you doing?”
“I’m … uungh! … not just going to sit here …. Uurmmm… and do nothing! Maybe … yaaahhh… I can move … one of these smaller rocks.”
When Garak spoke, Bashir could hear the smile in his voice. “With your bare hands? Doctor, you may be enhanced, but you’re not Superior Man.”
“That’s ‘Superman.’” UUUNNNG!
“Doctor!” Concern seeped into Garak’s voice. “You’ll hurt yourself.”
Bashir paused, sweat running down his face. “Tools! I need a lever!” He looked around, but metal prybars were not to be found. His eyes swept the area and finally found a stout-looking branch. With a hint of desperation, he went to work on the wall.
After a half hour of breaking every branch he could find, Bashir had had only a minor victory. He had dislodged one small stone, exposing a small opening large enough for either of them to put a hand through. Garak was grateful for the extra air and light, and had been unable to think beyond that.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
“Doctor. I’m trapped.”
“Yes, Garak.”
“This is unacceptable. This is absolutely unacceptable.”
Bashir didn’t know what to say.
“I must get out, Doctor. Do you hear me? I must get out. Now.”
Bashir’s mouth was dry and a deep cold grabbed at his heart.
“I will not be trapped. Like an animal. I’m trapped like an animal, doctor.”
“Yes, Garak.”
“This cannot go on. I am sorry, but it must end.”
Bashir opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
Silence. Bashir couldn’t tell how long it was, but it felt like a long time. Then:
“I am… experiencing a strange feeling, doctor.”
“Yes, Garak?”
“I feel… a strong urge to gnaw off my foot.”
“What?!” Bashir asked, alarmed.
“Isn’t that what a trapped animal does? It will chew off its own foot to get free. It sounds like a very good idea.”
“Garak…. You’re… joking, right?” Bashir said weakly.
There was a long silence.
“Perhaps.”
Bashir heard a muffled sound. He bent his head close to the rocks. He could hear a dull, rhythmic thudding.
“Garak? He asked, alarmed again. “What are you doing?”
“I am trying to get out of here, doctor. I must get out of here.”
“Garak… help will come. Soon. Maybe in the morning.”
Another silence.
“I don’t think I can survive until morning, doctor.”
“I know you can, Garak. You are fine. You’re not injured. There’s plenty of air. You’ll be just fine.”
“I WILL NOT BE FINE!!!” Bashir found himself flinching from the force of the shout.
The dull banging resumed.
Bashir was worried. Garak was not doing well. Maybe if he could somehow distract him enough… He felt his mind scrambling, but no brilliant ideas came forward. Where was that enhanced intellect when you really need it, he thought bitterly.
The banging stopped. Bashir breathed again. He hadn’t realized he had been holding his breath.
But…. There was another sound. A low moaning sound.
“Garak?” he asked softly, hesitantly.
No answer.
“Garak!”
The moaning grew louder.
Bashir realized that Garak might not, in fact, make it until morning. Not without some damage. He had to do something. Unfortunately, he had not the slightest idea what.
“Garak, listen to me.”
The moaning continued.
He spoke louder.
“Garak! Listen to me!”
That awful sound stopped. A pause. Then, in an almost normal voice, that only shook on the first syllable:
“Y-yes, doctor?”
“Garak.” For some reason, Bashir found himself constantly repeating Garak’s name. He found the sound of it soothing. Like a mantra or totem.
Incredibly, a slight shade of amusement and exaggerated patience crept into that thin voice.
“Yes, doctor.”
Distract him. How? Talk about something. What? Tell a story? What?? Bashir’s mind raced, but could think of nothing. Creativity wasn’t really his strong suit. Even in his research, he made progress in a steady, plodding kind of way, keeping to a routine…
A glimmer of an idea crept into Bashir’s mind.
“What you would be doing right now, if we were on the station? The sun is going down - that means it’s early evening. What would you be doing if you were on DS9?”
“What are you talking about?” Garak’s voice sounded sharp. “I would not be trapped here, under rocks, in a small, small place, a tiny space… no air… no room to move…”
Garak was digging himself deeper into panic. Bashir had to snap him out of it.
“GARAK! Do you trust me?”
A beat. “Me? Trust?”
Another pause, but thankfully, no moans, no pounding. Then:
“I trust no one, doctor. But of all the people I know, I distrust you the least.”
“Fine. Then trust me now. I will get you through this. Now tell me your evening routine.”
“I close up my shop, return to my quarters, have an evening meal, spend some time relaxing and go to sleep. Are you satisfied?” The voice grew louder and more agitated. “I do believe the walls are getting closer.” A shout: “Make them stop!”
“Details, Garak. Tell me about your routine. Your typical evening. Tell it so clearly that you feel as if you really are back in your quarters. Close your eyes and experience being in a comfortable place…”
This wasn’t working, Julian realized. He was desperate. He had to take Garak’s mind off his situation. But Garak couldn’t concentrate on talking. Maybe he could listen, instead.
“OK, I’ll demonstrate. Listen, Garak:
“I’m coming back to my quarters. It’s been a long day; I’m exhausted. All I can think about is a hot shower and some rest. After my shower I flop down on the couch -”
“Doctor…” Bashir could hear the strain in Garak’s voice. “I don’t know what you think this is accomplishing, but I can assure you, it isn’t helping.” Bashir could hear the dull thudding sound begin again. “These walls just will not stop pressing in on me…. Besides, you call that a detailed description, doctor? Hmph.” * bang, bang* “Try again. For example, do you fold your clothes or put them in the fresher?”
Bashir got the glimmer of a new idea.
“Neither. I kick off my shoes as I enter and I peel off the rest of my clothes as soon as I’ve taken three steps and let them fall where they may as I walk to the shower.”
There was a pause, and the banging sound ceased.
“I see.”
Bashir continued before he could stop and consider what he was about to do.
“I adjust the shower to water and turn the temperature up to my maximum comfort setting. Steam fills the stall, spilling out as I step in. I close my eyes as I feel the needles of hot water hitting my body.”
Another pause. “How… extravagant of you.”
“I’m not thinking about credits. I turn so the spray is hitting my back. My shoulder and neck muscles are sore. The morning was quiet and I had time for a nice lunch, but immediately after that, there was a fight in Quark’s and I was in surgery all afternoon. The infirmary table is too low for me; I keep meaning to adjust it. The hot water hitting my back feels good.” He stopped.
“…. Go on.”
“I reach over and rub my upper trapezius- the spot where the neck meets the shoulder. What I wouldn’t give for a good massage. But I don’t like to use the holosuites for that. It feels… cheap. I turn, trying to use the water to get at the sore spots. I let my mind drift.”
He stopped talking abruptly, and waited. He didn’t have to wait long.
“I still can’t fathom what the point of this… rambling monologue, is, but perhaps it gives you the sense that you’re doing something. Continue, please, doctor.” The voice sounded focused and there was still no banging. Bashir closed his eyes and spoke.
“I’m thinking about our lunch together, earlier in the day. We were arguing about the merits of 19th Century Terran classic literature, or maybe it was Late Second-Era Cardassian loyalty epics. I forget. But I remember being fascinated by your hands as you spoke. You were pressing your point rather passionately, and your hand was punctuating your words. I remember thinking how strong it looked. As the water hits me now, I’m thinking that you would probably give good massages. I try to imagine your fingers digging into my sore muscles.” He paused, without opening his eyes. His mouth felt dry. He swallowed, and continued.
“It’s usually your eyes that captivate me. They’re really remarkable, you know. So bright, so sharp, so … expressive. They’re very distracting. I have to simultaneously keep my eyes glued to yours, so I can pick up on any tiny hints about your lies, and yet I have to appear to not be staring. I have to watch you so intently, yet seem casual about it. It’s quite a challenge to keep that balance, you know.”
He paused again. Silence. “Garak? Are you there?”
“I’m… listening, doctor.”
“Well. I continue with my shower. I soap up and rub all over, enjoying the feel of the lather over my arms, my neck, my chest. Whoever invented the shower should really be famous.” He swallowed again, then went on, before he could lose his nerve.
“I soap up my legs and rub my feet. I reach back and scrub my bum. I try to get my back but I can only manage so much of it. I wish it was your hands, scrubbing me. I wish you were here in the shower, to scrub my back for me. I can picture you so clearly. I imagine that it is you, that your hands are running over my hot, soapy body. I’m becoming aroused by the thought. I reach down-”
“Doctor!!”
Bashir’s eyes flew open, and his face instantly turned scarlet. What the hell was he saying?? “I… I’m sorry, Garak. Have I offended you? I thought….”
“You thought!! I’ll tell you what you thought!” Garak’s voice was scathing. “You thought you would do anything to distract me from my situation. Tell me anything, anything at all, just to take my mind away. Let me tell you, doctor, to make up such… despicable, lurid-”
“Garak. Do I look like Scheherazade?”
“What?”
“Scheherazade. An old tale from Earth. About a woman who, to forestall her execution in the morning, told her master a tale so compelling that he was forced to let her live another day, in order to hear more of the tale. She drew out the story for a thousand nights. Well, I can tell you, Garak, I’m not very good at stories.”
“What do you mean?”
Bashir took a breath.
“I mean, I may be trying to distract you, but I’m doing it with truth. This really happened. I remember the day. It was the day I realized how I felt about you.”
He held his breath.
“How you… felt about me?” The voice was so low, Bashir wasn’t sure he had heard it.
“Yes. I’m sorry it’s not something more, um, cerebral, but the truth was, my body knew before my head did. After that, I realized that I’d been reacting to you for months. The pleasure I took in our lunches. The way I felt all… anxious and, well, fluttery-” He flinched at the choice of words. He was sounding like a schoolgirl! He cursed himself, silently.
Why didn’t Garak say something? Oh, gods, this had been a mistake. Was it too late to pretend that it was, in fact, all a ruse?
Then he heard something. Garak was muttering something, but he couldn’t understand it. Was he speaking gibberish? Oh, no - that was Kardasi. The Garak switched back to Standard:
“Are you -- quite sure someone will be coming, doctor?”
“Yes, Garak. Quite sure. I received an answer blip.”
“Have you ever used one of those finder signals before?”
“No, but it seems pretty straightforward.”
“Then… it seems likely that I will not, in fact, die here?”
“Correct, Garak.”
“Well then. Doctor, I must say, you are far more creative than I gave you credit for. That was quite the… surprise. You are, in fact, the most outrageous liar I have ever heard. And such a risqué lie, as well. Simply shocking.”
Bashir felt like the bottom had dropped out of his stomach. After putting himself out there, Garak was going to pretend…? He scooted forward and leaned over, putting his mouth close to the small opening in the rocks.
“Garak!” He whispered urgently. He wasn’t sure why he was whispering. “It’s not a lie! I mean it! I’m… obsessed with you. Tell me what you’re thinking!”
“I’m thinking… that situations like this one are not good for confessions. The mind does strange things under pressure.”
Bashir was so frustrated, he began to grind his teeth.
“I’ve stepped out on a limb here, Garak! Are you just going to let me hang there?!”
Incredibly, he thought he could hear a faint chuckle. “Well. This was not *my* idea. My plans were to have a nice little panic attack, and maybe chew off my foot. You seem to have beaten me to that one.”
“What?”
“Foot… mouth… isn’t there some appropriate Earth saying about that?”
Bashir seethed, but, although Garak was certainly being evasive, he didn’t seem upset by Bashir’s revelation. Incredibly, he seemed to be enjoying himself. And he seemed to have momentarily forgotten his claustrophobia, as well.”
“It really doesn’t work like that, you know,” said Garak’s voice, conversationally.
“What?” Bashir repeated foolishly.
“One can’t just get… distracted… from something like this.”
“You mean, from…?”
“From my unfortunate reaction to enclosed places. My claustrophobia.”
God. Was Garak psychic? “Garak. Don’t forget, I’m a doctor. I know about -”
“My dear doctor.” Was there real warmth in that phrase? “You know I respect your abilities. But about this matter, trust me, you know… now, what was that word? I came across a wonderful word the other day… Oh, yes - bupkis.”
“What?” Bashir hated that he had to keep saying that.
“Nothing. Odo ital. Pirak.”
“I don’t know. You sound like you’re doing pretty well, right now.”
“Doctor. Don’t you realize that I have amazing inner strength? Not to mention that I’m a highly trained operative, trained by the best, I might add. My… mental strength matches my considerable… physical strength that you so recently alluded to.”
Was he… teasing him? Flirting? Bashir couldn’t tell.
“Although, now that you mention it,” Garak continued, although Bashir hadn’t mentioned anything at all, “that panicky feeling is hovering rather close right now. Perhaps you had better… distract me some more.”
“Garak!!” Bashir was practically spitting.
“Yes?” The voice sounded maddeningly calm.
“… you first.”
“Very well, doctor. You know those ‘swatches’ you were so interested in/?”
“Yes?”
“Let me tell you what I really had in mind for them….”
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When the rescue team arrived, they marched right into the site without being noticed. Bashir had his head pressed against the opening, listening to something with his eyes wide and glazed. The team leader had to actually shake his shoulder to get him to realize that help had arrived.
Upon observing the human’s pale face and rapid breath, he ordered a medic to take charge of him. It took all of Bashir’s efforts to convince him that he was perfectly fine.
The medic was touched by Bashir’s evident concern for his companion. He seemed most eager to have the both of them returned to their runabout and back to their station. The only thing that seemed odd was the human’s inquiry about the possessions buried under the rubble. His companion reminded him that possessions were unimportant and that, besides, anything could be replicated. Whatever that meant.
Throughout the rescue, the human seemed quite distracted. Doubtless, he had led a sheltered life and had never had to deal with a life-threatening situation before. Curiously, his distraction seemed to increase, not lessen, once his companion was freed.
The team leader thought these were the two oddest people he’d ever rescued. Usually, once they were safe, those he had aided tended to thank him profusely. These two just scurried off with urgent whispers as soon as the Cardassian was freed. They nonchalantly commandeered a ground vehicle without asking and were gone within moments.
Just before the door closed, he could swear he heard laughter.
How odd.
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He reached what had been the tiny cabin. His brain did not seem to be working quite properly, but he noticed that the cabin had not, in fact, completely collapsed. There might be enough room there…
“Garak!” No answer. Louder: “Garak!!!” Silence. Bashir filled his lungs and screamed with a force that ripped through his throat to produce the loudest cry he could manage: “GARAK!!!”
From behind that awful pile of rocks came a familiar voice.
“I’m… here, doctor. No need to yell.”
Bashir felt as if his bones had left him. He sat down suddenly, unable to stand. His throat hurt.
“Well…” he began. The sound came out as a hoarse rasp. He cleared his throat and tried again.
“Well. Are you hurt?”
“Not to speak of.”
“What does that mean?” Bashir asked sharply.
Bashir heard a faint chuckle, but it sounded forced.
“Luck seems to have been on my side. I have some minor cuts and bruises, and only a small rock saw fit to land on my head.”
Bashir snapped belatedly into doctor mode. This made everything clear, sharp and simple, for which he was grateful.
“Are you bleeding? Is your vision clear? Is there any weakness on one side of your face or body? Can you move your limbs?”
“No, yes, no and yes. I believe I’m fine for the moment, doctor. But we do have a problem.”
Bashir was listening to Garak’s voice for any slurring. It seemed clear enough. It took him another second to re-play the comment for its meaning.
“What’s the matter? Don’t you have your emergency beam-out anklet on? Activate it and let’s get out of here.”
“Well. Yes. I do have the anklet on. However, I can’t reach it.”
“You… can’t reach it?” An image of Garak’s foot, severed from his body, wearing the anklet, flashed through Bashir’s mind. “What do you mean you can’t reach it?!”
“Doctor, please. There’s really no need to shout.”
Bashir’s jaw clenched shut. “What do you mean you can’t reach it?” he repeated softly, through his teeth.
“I mean, the beacon, and my ankle, are wedged beneath a boulder.”
Bashir’s chest began to tighten. “And you didn’t think to mention that a moment ago, when you assuring me that you were fine?”
“To be honest, doctor, I do not believe my ankle is broken. In any case, it doesn’t hurt.” Not much, he added to himself. “It’s merely… inaccessible.”
“Garak. How could a boulder have landed on your foot and not crushed it?”
“A portion of the floor seems to have collapsed during the quake. My leg is resting in a shallow trough. I am pinned, but my leg is intact.”
Bashir was silent.
“Well, doctor, this has been an exciting adventure, just as you wished for. Luckily, you insisted on safety protocols, so, if you don’t mind, just go ahead and activate your own beacon, and we can bring this trip to an end.” Garak used all his skill to keep his voice light and lilting, and almost succeeded. He waited for Bashir’s answer.
More silence.
“Doctor?” There was a definite strain in that word. “Speak to me.”
Bashir swallowed. “I… don’t have it.”
“What?”
“My beacon. I don’t have it.”
“You don’t… Where is it?”
“I… had an insect bite underneath it. I took it off to apply an ointment. I guess I forgot to put it back on.”
“Doctor. I fervently hope that you did this outside at the picnic table and that you are now going to walk over there and retrieve it.” Garak was stalling for time. He understood immediately what the situation was, and his mind was racing as he analyzed every possibility.
“No. It’s in the cabin. Maybe it’s near you…?”
Garak devoted only a small portion of his mind to his answer. “In case you haven’t noticed, doctor, the cabin has collapsed. I’m in a small space. It’s dark. I believe I’m in what used to be the living room. Where did you leave your beacon?”
“In my bedroom.”
“Well then.” Garak tried to keep his mind on his analysis. Up until a few moments ago, he believed that he would be removed from this… place… in moments. Now that he understood differently, it was starting to happen. I can control this, he told himself firmly. I will control this.
His breathing began to speed up.
“Wait!” Bashir suddenly thought of something. “The picnic table!” He leapt to his feet and sprinted away. Garak felt his sudden absence like a loss of air. He began to pant.
“I’ve got it!”
Garak’s heart soared. “The beacon?”
“No.”
The walls. Just how close were they?
“I have my medical tricorder.”
Garak felt a coldness begin to creep into him. “How fortunate. You could monitor my condition, if you weren’t just about to leave me to go get help.”
Amazingly, Bashir chuckled.
“I’m not leaving you, Garak. Medical tricorders have a universal emergency signal built in. I can emit a call for help. I can’t send a specific message, but I can send a wide-range signal and receive an answering blip. It’s pretty primitive, but it’s not really used very often. It’s kind of a redundant feature. There.”
“Doctor, you never cease to amaze me.” He tried to concentrate on slowing his breathing, and convincing himself that the walls were not any closer than they had been a few moments ago.
When Bashir had realized that he could send a finder blip, he’d been hit by a wave of giddiness. That elation now slipped away as reality hit him. It could be two or three days before help reached them. Garak was trapped, trapped in a small, dark space. Bashir remembered how working in the tiny crawlspace for hours had taken its toll on the Cardassian in the Dominion prisoner camp. How in the world would he cope for two or three days?
As though he were the one trapped, panic swept over him. Without thinking, he flung himself at the rubble, clawing and grabbing at the rocks, trying to clear an opening through sheer rage.
“Doctor? What are you doing?”
“I’m … uungh! … not just going to sit here …. Uurmmm… and do nothing! Maybe … yaaahhh… I can move … one of these smaller rocks.”
When Garak spoke, Bashir could hear the smile in his voice. “With your bare hands? Doctor, you may be enhanced, but you’re not Superior Man.”
“That’s ‘Superman.’” UUUNNNG!
“Doctor!” Concern seeped into Garak’s voice. “You’ll hurt yourself.”
Bashir paused, sweat running down his face. “Tools! I need a lever!” He looked around, but metal prybars were not to be found. His eyes swept the area and finally found a stout-looking branch. With a hint of desperation, he went to work on the wall.
After a half hour of breaking every branch he could find, Bashir had had only a minor victory. He had dislodged one small stone, exposing a small opening large enough for either of them to put a hand through. Garak was grateful for the extra air and light, and had been unable to think beyond that.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
“Doctor. I’m trapped.”
“Yes, Garak.”
“This is unacceptable. This is absolutely unacceptable.”
Bashir didn’t know what to say.
“I must get out, Doctor. Do you hear me? I must get out. Now.”
Bashir’s mouth was dry and a deep cold grabbed at his heart.
“I will not be trapped. Like an animal. I’m trapped like an animal, doctor.”
“Yes, Garak.”
“This cannot go on. I am sorry, but it must end.”
Bashir opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
Silence. Bashir couldn’t tell how long it was, but it felt like a long time. Then:
“I am… experiencing a strange feeling, doctor.”
“Yes, Garak?”
“I feel… a strong urge to gnaw off my foot.”
“What?!” Bashir asked, alarmed.
“Isn’t that what a trapped animal does? It will chew off its own foot to get free. It sounds like a very good idea.”
“Garak…. You’re… joking, right?” Bashir said weakly.
There was a long silence.
“Perhaps.”
Bashir heard a muffled sound. He bent his head close to the rocks. He could hear a dull, rhythmic thudding.
“Garak? He asked, alarmed again. “What are you doing?”
“I am trying to get out of here, doctor. I must get out of here.”
“Garak… help will come. Soon. Maybe in the morning.”
Another silence.
“I don’t think I can survive until morning, doctor.”
“I know you can, Garak. You are fine. You’re not injured. There’s plenty of air. You’ll be just fine.”
“I WILL NOT BE FINE!!!” Bashir found himself flinching from the force of the shout.
The dull banging resumed.
Bashir was worried. Garak was not doing well. Maybe if he could somehow distract him enough… He felt his mind scrambling, but no brilliant ideas came forward. Where was that enhanced intellect when you really need it, he thought bitterly.
The banging stopped. Bashir breathed again. He hadn’t realized he had been holding his breath.
But…. There was another sound. A low moaning sound.
“Garak?” he asked softly, hesitantly.
No answer.
“Garak!”
The moaning grew louder.
Bashir realized that Garak might not, in fact, make it until morning. Not without some damage. He had to do something. Unfortunately, he had not the slightest idea what.
“Garak, listen to me.”
The moaning continued.
He spoke louder.
“Garak! Listen to me!”
That awful sound stopped. A pause. Then, in an almost normal voice, that only shook on the first syllable:
“Y-yes, doctor?”
“Garak.” For some reason, Bashir found himself constantly repeating Garak’s name. He found the sound of it soothing. Like a mantra or totem.
Incredibly, a slight shade of amusement and exaggerated patience crept into that thin voice.
“Yes, doctor.”
Distract him. How? Talk about something. What? Tell a story? What?? Bashir’s mind raced, but could think of nothing. Creativity wasn’t really his strong suit. Even in his research, he made progress in a steady, plodding kind of way, keeping to a routine…
A glimmer of an idea crept into Bashir’s mind.
“What you would be doing right now, if we were on the station? The sun is going down - that means it’s early evening. What would you be doing if you were on DS9?”
“What are you talking about?” Garak’s voice sounded sharp. “I would not be trapped here, under rocks, in a small, small place, a tiny space… no air… no room to move…”
Garak was digging himself deeper into panic. Bashir had to snap him out of it.
“GARAK! Do you trust me?”
A beat. “Me? Trust?”
Another pause, but thankfully, no moans, no pounding. Then:
“I trust no one, doctor. But of all the people I know, I distrust you the least.”
“Fine. Then trust me now. I will get you through this. Now tell me your evening routine.”
“I close up my shop, return to my quarters, have an evening meal, spend some time relaxing and go to sleep. Are you satisfied?” The voice grew louder and more agitated. “I do believe the walls are getting closer.” A shout: “Make them stop!”
“Details, Garak. Tell me about your routine. Your typical evening. Tell it so clearly that you feel as if you really are back in your quarters. Close your eyes and experience being in a comfortable place…”
This wasn’t working, Julian realized. He was desperate. He had to take Garak’s mind off his situation. But Garak couldn’t concentrate on talking. Maybe he could listen, instead.
“OK, I’ll demonstrate. Listen, Garak:
“I’m coming back to my quarters. It’s been a long day; I’m exhausted. All I can think about is a hot shower and some rest. After my shower I flop down on the couch -”
“Doctor…” Bashir could hear the strain in Garak’s voice. “I don’t know what you think this is accomplishing, but I can assure you, it isn’t helping.” Bashir could hear the dull thudding sound begin again. “These walls just will not stop pressing in on me…. Besides, you call that a detailed description, doctor? Hmph.” * bang, bang* “Try again. For example, do you fold your clothes or put them in the fresher?”
Bashir got the glimmer of a new idea.
“Neither. I kick off my shoes as I enter and I peel off the rest of my clothes as soon as I’ve taken three steps and let them fall where they may as I walk to the shower.”
There was a pause, and the banging sound ceased.
“I see.”
Bashir continued before he could stop and consider what he was about to do.
“I adjust the shower to water and turn the temperature up to my maximum comfort setting. Steam fills the stall, spilling out as I step in. I close my eyes as I feel the needles of hot water hitting my body.”
Another pause. “How… extravagant of you.”
“I’m not thinking about credits. I turn so the spray is hitting my back. My shoulder and neck muscles are sore. The morning was quiet and I had time for a nice lunch, but immediately after that, there was a fight in Quark’s and I was in surgery all afternoon. The infirmary table is too low for me; I keep meaning to adjust it. The hot water hitting my back feels good.” He stopped.
“…. Go on.”
“I reach over and rub my upper trapezius- the spot where the neck meets the shoulder. What I wouldn’t give for a good massage. But I don’t like to use the holosuites for that. It feels… cheap. I turn, trying to use the water to get at the sore spots. I let my mind drift.”
He stopped talking abruptly, and waited. He didn’t have to wait long.
“I still can’t fathom what the point of this… rambling monologue, is, but perhaps it gives you the sense that you’re doing something. Continue, please, doctor.” The voice sounded focused and there was still no banging. Bashir closed his eyes and spoke.
“I’m thinking about our lunch together, earlier in the day. We were arguing about the merits of 19th Century Terran classic literature, or maybe it was Late Second-Era Cardassian loyalty epics. I forget. But I remember being fascinated by your hands as you spoke. You were pressing your point rather passionately, and your hand was punctuating your words. I remember thinking how strong it looked. As the water hits me now, I’m thinking that you would probably give good massages. I try to imagine your fingers digging into my sore muscles.” He paused, without opening his eyes. His mouth felt dry. He swallowed, and continued.
“It’s usually your eyes that captivate me. They’re really remarkable, you know. So bright, so sharp, so … expressive. They’re very distracting. I have to simultaneously keep my eyes glued to yours, so I can pick up on any tiny hints about your lies, and yet I have to appear to not be staring. I have to watch you so intently, yet seem casual about it. It’s quite a challenge to keep that balance, you know.”
He paused again. Silence. “Garak? Are you there?”
“I’m… listening, doctor.”
“Well. I continue with my shower. I soap up and rub all over, enjoying the feel of the lather over my arms, my neck, my chest. Whoever invented the shower should really be famous.” He swallowed again, then went on, before he could lose his nerve.
“I soap up my legs and rub my feet. I reach back and scrub my bum. I try to get my back but I can only manage so much of it. I wish it was your hands, scrubbing me. I wish you were here in the shower, to scrub my back for me. I can picture you so clearly. I imagine that it is you, that your hands are running over my hot, soapy body. I’m becoming aroused by the thought. I reach down-”
“Doctor!!”
Bashir’s eyes flew open, and his face instantly turned scarlet. What the hell was he saying?? “I… I’m sorry, Garak. Have I offended you? I thought….”
“You thought!! I’ll tell you what you thought!” Garak’s voice was scathing. “You thought you would do anything to distract me from my situation. Tell me anything, anything at all, just to take my mind away. Let me tell you, doctor, to make up such… despicable, lurid-”
“Garak. Do I look like Scheherazade?”
“What?”
“Scheherazade. An old tale from Earth. About a woman who, to forestall her execution in the morning, told her master a tale so compelling that he was forced to let her live another day, in order to hear more of the tale. She drew out the story for a thousand nights. Well, I can tell you, Garak, I’m not very good at stories.”
“What do you mean?”
Bashir took a breath.
“I mean, I may be trying to distract you, but I’m doing it with truth. This really happened. I remember the day. It was the day I realized how I felt about you.”
He held his breath.
“How you… felt about me?” The voice was so low, Bashir wasn’t sure he had heard it.
“Yes. I’m sorry it’s not something more, um, cerebral, but the truth was, my body knew before my head did. After that, I realized that I’d been reacting to you for months. The pleasure I took in our lunches. The way I felt all… anxious and, well, fluttery-” He flinched at the choice of words. He was sounding like a schoolgirl! He cursed himself, silently.
Why didn’t Garak say something? Oh, gods, this had been a mistake. Was it too late to pretend that it was, in fact, all a ruse?
Then he heard something. Garak was muttering something, but he couldn’t understand it. Was he speaking gibberish? Oh, no - that was Kardasi. The Garak switched back to Standard:
“Are you -- quite sure someone will be coming, doctor?”
“Yes, Garak. Quite sure. I received an answer blip.”
“Have you ever used one of those finder signals before?”
“No, but it seems pretty straightforward.”
“Then… it seems likely that I will not, in fact, die here?”
“Correct, Garak.”
“Well then. Doctor, I must say, you are far more creative than I gave you credit for. That was quite the… surprise. You are, in fact, the most outrageous liar I have ever heard. And such a risqué lie, as well. Simply shocking.”
Bashir felt like the bottom had dropped out of his stomach. After putting himself out there, Garak was going to pretend…? He scooted forward and leaned over, putting his mouth close to the small opening in the rocks.
“Garak!” He whispered urgently. He wasn’t sure why he was whispering. “It’s not a lie! I mean it! I’m… obsessed with you. Tell me what you’re thinking!”
“I’m thinking… that situations like this one are not good for confessions. The mind does strange things under pressure.”
Bashir was so frustrated, he began to grind his teeth.
“I’ve stepped out on a limb here, Garak! Are you just going to let me hang there?!”
Incredibly, he thought he could hear a faint chuckle. “Well. This was not *my* idea. My plans were to have a nice little panic attack, and maybe chew off my foot. You seem to have beaten me to that one.”
“What?”
“Foot… mouth… isn’t there some appropriate Earth saying about that?”
Bashir seethed, but, although Garak was certainly being evasive, he didn’t seem upset by Bashir’s revelation. Incredibly, he seemed to be enjoying himself. And he seemed to have momentarily forgotten his claustrophobia, as well.”
“It really doesn’t work like that, you know,” said Garak’s voice, conversationally.
“What?” Bashir repeated foolishly.
“One can’t just get… distracted… from something like this.”
“You mean, from…?”
“From my unfortunate reaction to enclosed places. My claustrophobia.”
God. Was Garak psychic? “Garak. Don’t forget, I’m a doctor. I know about -”
“My dear doctor.” Was there real warmth in that phrase? “You know I respect your abilities. But about this matter, trust me, you know… now, what was that word? I came across a wonderful word the other day… Oh, yes - bupkis.”
“What?” Bashir hated that he had to keep saying that.
“Nothing. Odo ital. Pirak.”
“I don’t know. You sound like you’re doing pretty well, right now.”
“Doctor. Don’t you realize that I have amazing inner strength? Not to mention that I’m a highly trained operative, trained by the best, I might add. My… mental strength matches my considerable… physical strength that you so recently alluded to.”
Was he… teasing him? Flirting? Bashir couldn’t tell.
“Although, now that you mention it,” Garak continued, although Bashir hadn’t mentioned anything at all, “that panicky feeling is hovering rather close right now. Perhaps you had better… distract me some more.”
“Garak!!” Bashir was practically spitting.
“Yes?” The voice sounded maddeningly calm.
“… you first.”
“Very well, doctor. You know those ‘swatches’ you were so interested in/?”
“Yes?”
“Let me tell you what I really had in mind for them….”
^^^^^^^^^^
When the rescue team arrived, they marched right into the site without being noticed. Bashir had his head pressed against the opening, listening to something with his eyes wide and glazed. The team leader had to actually shake his shoulder to get him to realize that help had arrived.
Upon observing the human’s pale face and rapid breath, he ordered a medic to take charge of him. It took all of Bashir’s efforts to convince him that he was perfectly fine.
The medic was touched by Bashir’s evident concern for his companion. He seemed most eager to have the both of them returned to their runabout and back to their station. The only thing that seemed odd was the human’s inquiry about the possessions buried under the rubble. His companion reminded him that possessions were unimportant and that, besides, anything could be replicated. Whatever that meant.
Throughout the rescue, the human seemed quite distracted. Doubtless, he had led a sheltered life and had never had to deal with a life-threatening situation before. Curiously, his distraction seemed to increase, not lessen, once his companion was freed.
The team leader thought these were the two oddest people he’d ever rescued. Usually, once they were safe, those he had aided tended to thank him profusely. These two just scurried off with urgent whispers as soon as the Cardassian was freed. They nonchalantly commandeered a ground vehicle without asking and were gone within moments.
Just before the door closed, he could swear he heard laughter.
How odd.