TITLE: Shadowdance SERIES TITLE: Destinies, Section 2 Author: Valerie Shearer Contact:thenightbird@earthlink.net Series: DS9 Part: New x/x Rating: PG Codes:Garak, Bashir Summary: This is a sequel to Seduction, also by myself. Garak is taken on a dark tour through wonderland by his best friend. It is best to read Seduction first, but this can stand on its own. Note to archivist: Please archive this story. Note on distribution: This story may be passed onto others provided this entire header is left intact and my name and e-mail address goes with the story. It may not be published or printed for fanzines without my express permission. Permission must also be obtained to include it in any fanfic websites as well, other than the official one for the newsgroup. Note on feedback: Please do. Posts in the newsgroup are also welcome. Constructive criticism is most welcome but flames will be ignored. Reply at thenightbird@earthlink.net. All reasonable mail will be answered. If you don't find a part of this story please let me know and I'll send it to you. If you want the whole thing in Word Perfect format (or some other) I can send that as well. Just let me know. Feel free to make comments on the newsgroup as well. Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Julian Bashir, Elim Garak, Miles O'Brien, Felix, Quark, Rom, DS9 and the cannon portions of the trek universe are the property of Paramount Studios. The planet Zas'sana and its culture, war, and population are mine. Shadowdance a sequel to Seduction by Valerie Shearer Kamin/Picard (when first waking): Computer, End Program. Kamin to Eline, (upon accepting the reality): It was real. It was as real as this is. Picard, (after waking back on the Enterprise): How long? Riker: Twenty to twenty-five minutes. Picard: (confused) Twenty-five minutes? (later that day): Riker: Hello, Sir. Feeling better? Picard: Yes. Yes, thank you. But I find that I'm ... I'm having to rediscover that this really is my home. (Riker gives him the box found in the alien probe. Picard opens it and finds the flute he'd taken years to learn how to play in his "dream". He still remembers how to play the flute, and his memories make the long ago doomed people of Kataan live again.) Star Trek, the Next Generation, "The Inner Light" ********** It was the first time in a month that Julian had made it to lunch, and it was obvious he was hardly listening to the conversation. Instead, he had fixed his gaze at a distant figure, a hard and bitter look in his eyes. Garak watched carefully, noting the look, present since his return from the trip to Abersand Station and his illness. Garak continued the conversation, keeping up the fiction, but watched the figure as he drew closer. He wasn't surprised to see Sisko. Julian had been decidedly cold toward the man since he'd come back, even if it was only to Garak's experienced eye. "Is something wrong?" asked Garak. "You seem distracted." "I have some things I need to do," said Julian, a trifle hesitantly. "Perhaps later," said Garak. He had the impression Julian just wanted to leave. Julian nodded, and Garak noticed a brief look of deep pain. He wondered just what had happened to his friend during that visit and why he had grown so cold inside. It was a surprise, after the distant reception at lunch, when Julian had appeared at his shop that evening just before closing. "I have a new holoprogram. I was wondering if you'd like to try it." Garak was curious about the change in mood, from the detached Julian at lunch to the suddenly friendly one. "I did have plans this evening," said Garak carefully, "but perhaps tomorrow night?" "Certainly," said Julian. "Dinner first?" He was the friend he'd known before, and it confused Garak. He didn't trust sudden changes in people, especially when they tried to hide them. He had his suspicions, but he was too curious. It had always been a failing he'd had to be wary of. "Quark's then?" he asked. "I'll be there as soon as I'm done." Julian paused, thinking about something. "He wants a critique of this one, so keep it quiet." Garak ignored the alarm that he felt over the request. It didn't make any sense. But Felix had created Vic. It was possible that this was something just as remarkable, and he didn't want it known quite yet. Perhaps Julian was just testing it for his friend. That was quite reasonable, he told himself. It was just enough of a possibility to keep him intrigued. Julian's behavior had been a bit erratic since his near-fatal illness anyway. Perhaps it would help. Garak decided to go to Quarks for dinner that night, and noticed O'Brien by himself. He kept glancing at the door, as if he was waiting for someone. Garak wondered if it was Julian. He hadn't noticed him playing darts very often of late. When he did, he didn't appear to be paying much attention to the game, almost like he'd been with Garak at lunch. O'Brien looked annoyed, and Garak was just curious enough to ask. "I assume someone didn't show up tonight," he commented, and O'Brien looked more annoyed than before. "You've noticed," said O'Brien. "He has missed several regular lunches with myself, with neither a note he couldn't make it or even any sign he remembered we planned to meet." Garak was as annoyed, in his own way, as O'Brien, and allowed it to show. O'Brien turned grim. "Something happened to him. He just isn't the same. He doesn't want anything to do with anybody here." He turned to Garak. "I'm sure you've noticed." Garak was in agreement. "I believe most of the others simply see him as distracted by something. But I have to agree. He wants to leave." O'Brien sighed. "It's that last assignment. I know he was sick, but there was something else. He won't talk about it." "The doctor is a very private man," said Garak. Both were mulling over the puzzle of what happened to their friend when Sisko walked by the door. O'Brien glanced at him. "Except with him. He knows what happened. Do you notice how he and Julian won't look at each other unless they have to?" Garak was privately surprised the Chief was so observant. "He was keeping a very close eye on the Captain earlier." Looking at the corridor, O'Brien observed, "I get the feeling it's mutual, too." The next morning, Julian was late for breakfast. Garak noted that he was very distracted, and quite sleepy. He ate by himself, ignoring everyone around him. Miles had tried to start a conversation and been rebuffed. He simply concentrated on his food to the exclusion of all else, as if he was the only one in the room. Even the other officers had glanced at him and shaken their heads, leaving him alone. Garak waited until Julian had left and O'Brien was just finishing to approach. He didn't need to say who he was referring to. O'Brien had been watching, too. "Is he like this often in the morning?" O'Brien glanced at him. "No, just now and then, when he's had a late night. Quark said he showed up real late for a holoprogram. Must not have gotten much sleep." "Someone needs to have a talk with the good doctor," said Garak. "I don't think lack of sleep was the problem." O'Brien studied him. "He isn't like this often. Maybe he had a bad nightmare and couldn't sleep." Garak didn't want to say what he suspected openly, not here, but thought the concerned talk should come from O'Brien rather than him. "It is said a wise doctor is not his own patient. I fear our friend is not following this advice." O'Brien surprised him. "Yeah, I know." Garak suspected that O'Brien had already noticed, and might have tried to say something. "You want to ask him about it?" he said sarcastically. "I've tried. He pretended that he didn't know what I was talking about. He thinks nobody notices that he can't wake up when he uses too much. It usually takes about half the day before it wears off." ********** By dinnertime, Julian had recovered from his fog, and just turned quiet. "I heard you had a late night," said Garak. "A bit," was his terse comment. Julian had a package with him. "Is that for tonight?" he asked. "Yes, we'll change later," said Julian, preoccupied. Garak wondered if this was a good idea. But whatever was wrong with his friend, this was a chance to find out. He was curious if he'd been running his new program or been listening to Vic last night. The mystery of his friend's moods was both worrisome and intriguing. Garak ignored the alarm that still dogged him. Quark came by the table. "It's ready for you. You're lucky you booked in advance. Number two is not working. Quit this morning. Rom said he'd get some time to look at it, but hasn't got to it yet." There was an *odd* look in Julian's eyes, for just a flash. Quark missed it completely, but Garak didn't. He became cordial. "Thank you for telling us. We won't be keeping the next customer waiting." Julian nodded to Quark. "Well, better hurry," said the Ferengi, giving Bashir a quick glance, and Garak thought he'd picked up on his customer's odd mood. Garak followed Julian up the stairs, still holding the unopened package, into total darkness. It un-nerved him, along with the worry he'd chosen to ignore. "Oh, sorry," said Julian, slipping open a door. Garak followed him inside to a dimly lit room. He had the fleeting impression he'd gone the wrong direction. But he took the clothes he was handed and went to one of the small booths in the corner to change. There was something familiar about them and oddly disturbing as well. He had seen someone dressed like this before, but wasn't sure when. He was trying to think of where it had been when Julian asked, "Are you dressed?" Garak belatedly decided he should listen to the building sense of alarm. "Yes, but ... " He didn't get a chance to finish. The dimly lit room vanished to be replaced by a decaying street full of shadows and deserted buildings. Julian became very tense. If he had been acting odd before, the transformation once he was standing in the dilapidated street was worse. He moved among the shadows, in tense, worried sprints. Suspicion tugged at Garak's mind about the clothes, something which suggested this wasn't quite what Felix was famous for. But it wasn't until Julian stopped in front of a building, with a half-broken door and several shattered windows that Garak became extremely concerned. Julian said, calmly, "Begin initialization sequence. Safeties off." "Perhaps that isn't advisable," said Garak, openly worried. Julian ignored it. Suddenly, the sounds of the creaking wind appeared. The leaves in the half-dead trees rustled. The broken door was squeaking. And the rotting smell of the place filled the air. "Most interesting place," Garak grumbled, watching as Julian was staring intently down the street. Garak didn't yet know where he was, but he suspected. He considered telling Julian to end the program immediately, but his friend was preoccupied and not likely to listen. He would wait a little while before he insisted. Julian was lost in some alarming mood. Suddenly, listening to the darkness, he pushed Garak into the deep shadows by the crumbling building. A half-broken bench sat in front. Garak waited, puzzled and a little apprehensive about the turn of events. Julian took his roles seriously, but this time Garak saw no enjoyment in the play. He was reminded of the time their outlandish spy game had turned so deadly real, and Bashir had shot him. He watched as Julian cautiously moved a bit further down the street, to the next building. Someone swam out of the shadows for a moment, and he exchanged something swiftly with the man, who hurried away as quickly as he'd come. Slipping back into the gloom, Julian returned to his hiding place. In a breathless whisper he said, "Identification," and then noticeably tensed. Garak heard them too. Feet, probably booted. Someone was running. As the door squeaked open in the breeze, Julian pushed him inside the nearby building. Garak looked about in the gloom, not very optimistic. He was almost sure about where they were and was concerned that Julian had lost his mind, especially running this with no safeties. If he was right the patrol would look for them next. Julian had gone to an opening in the wall surrounded by trash. "Hurry," he demanded, breathlessly. Garak helped him pull it open. He was only half surprised when Julian started to push him in, and stared out the heavy door as Julian crawled in after him. The doctor winced as his arm scraped across the edge while he squeezed inside and pulled the door shut. It became crowded and dark, and Garak had his own battle then, with the tight, dark space already shrinking around him. Then he heard the voices, and he froze. He reminded himself that there were no safeties. Once the patrol had left he would end the program himself but in case of a problem he thought it best for the men outside to go first. The rotten door was pulled off. The searchers were moving things about in the room. In a terrible, heart stopping moment they stood directly in front of the chute, disturbing the trash. But they disrupted some version of rodent's nest, the creatures squeaking in outrage. They left the door of the chute alone. He heard them, finally, after an eternity, leave the room. When Garak was certain they were gone, he whispered insistently to Julian. "End this." "I can't," mumbled Julian, and Garak noticed something damp against his arm. He felt, cautiously, and discovered that it was Julian's arm. He must have cut it crawling inside. He was trying to stop the bleeding without much success. 'Probably not a changeling' thought Garak. But he found a wad of something in his pocket to add to the bandage and helped put pressure on the wound. Then came the odd part. The immediate crisis over, Garak noticed a strange tingling in his head so faint he hadn't noticed it before, as if something was crawling around inside his brain. Suddenly it stopped. There was a high pitched buzzing, and Julian fainted. Garak hadn't quite lost consciousness when he heard a woman's voice say, "Initialization complete. No safeties in place." That thought filled his mind as he fell unconscious. ********** Garak came to first. There was a hint of light filtering into the cramped trash chute. Julian was still out, crumpled against the side of the door. His arm was a sticky mess of dried blood. Garak shook him gently but he didn't wake. He pulled the gummy fingers from the arm. The bleeding had stopped but the wound was very dirty. He shook Julian again, with no success. "End program," he said. Nothing happened. Julian probably had to do it. A last attempt brought a mumble from his friend, and he said softly, "End this. It's going too far." Julian mumbled, half coherently, "Can't. Has to be played through," before he passed out again. Garak shook him again. Julian was disoriented but awake. Garak insisted, "Help me get this open." Julian helped push on the door and it creaked as it fell open with a loud thud. Garak froze, fighting the desire to run from the tiny, enclosed space. If a patrol was there it would be over quickly. But there was nothing but the creaking of the building and the rustle of the leaves in the wind. He half-carried Julian out. His arm was a mess, and he was cradling it as he fell into the trash and the unhappy rodent's nest. Garak moved his friend to a safer spot, if such was possible. At least they had already searched the building. He pulled the sleeve away from the arm, and examined the cut in the greyish light. "We have to clean this," he told Julian. It was already turning pink around the edges of the wound. Julian pointed to a heap of junk in another corner. "In there," he whispered. "There's food and water hidden." Garak wondered how he knew, but was starting to grow aware of something odd. He was hungry. No, more than that, famished. The smell of the building had penetrated his clothes and skin. But Quark only rented by the hour, and he'd had dinner just before. It made no sense, but he wanted the food. Nor could he explain how Bashir's injury had gotten so bad in so short a time. But holosuite or not, Julian's pale face and inflamed arm worried him. They had been knocked out, but Quark would have found them if it had been very long. None of it made any sense. His stomach was rumbling at the thought of food. Julian moved his arm and groaned. Distastefully, he started to dig into the garbage. He found a sealed can, and opened it with a small knife he found taped to it. There was a first aid kit, and water. He also realized how thirsty he was and took a big drink of the water. But he made Julian have more. Bashir half-mumbled, holding up his hand, "Didn't plan on this," before he fainted again as Garak started cleaning the wound and properly bandaging it. He woke Julian again when he was finished. He made him eat. Garak didn't know why he was hungry, and the food was in itself hardly appealing, but it tasted like a feast. Julian rolled on his side and fell asleep, and Garak covered him with loose trash. He hid a little further away, using the same covering. The smell was terrible but better than if a patrol found them. Julian was already feverish when Garak woke him. It had been, in subjective time, most of a day. Garak hadn't sorted out the details yet, but understood that somehow their perception of time had been altered. He didn't know if the hunger he felt was real or some psychological simulation, but his stomach grumbled at him. And he was sure that the mess on Julian's arm, and the low fever were dangerous either way. Before he'd awakened him, Garak had investigated the nearby area to assure himself that it was deserted. He'd found neither soldiers nor food in the decaying buildings. It worried him more that Julian was injured. He knew where they were and unless the doctor could guide this "adventure" they would both likely end up dead or captured. He was certain now; he'd found one of the posters. This adventure was set right in the middle of a revolution, playing the role of the most prominent victims. Zas'sana was a rough, half-developed planet, its few cities small and run by vicious overlords whose authority extended little beyond the cities they ruled. But it had notably rich deposits of rare minerals. The Federation, among others, had long ago taken interest in this bounty. In time, a small foreign colony had formed, living under the protection of the Ballou, as the chief overlord was called. Life was relatively secure and comfortable inside the foreign district, largely isolated from the local populace. But this had ended suddenly when the Ballou fell ill, and his rivals had taken advantage of his weakness. His sudden death had thrown the society into civil war, and the one thing every side agreed about was the foreigners. Their presence had brought ruin to the Ballou. They were regarded as vulgar interlopers, and became the universal enemy. The foreigners had tried to run. Some had been caught, the survivors held captive by all the main factions in the war. An attempt had been made to evacuate them, both too late and too little. Those who hadn't been caught went into hiding. Garak had checked the documents Julian had obtained, though, and was confused. It identified them as representatives of a small colony who were known for cheating everyone--including the natives. This was likely to get them little but abuse and humiliation should they be caught, if they weren't killed immediately. Yet Julian had made a point of obtaining that particular false ID. Garak assumed it was the best they could do. He was still unsure why it was needed, unless there was more to this than the obvious. But Julian would have to explain that part. Garak watched as Julian opened his eyes, groaning softly. "Julian, why are we on Zas'sana during the middle of a revolution, especially without safeties?" Julian looked as if he were trying to remember. "It's complicated," he said, gingerly fingering his arm. "There's an escape route," he continued, wincing as Garak pulled off the bandage. The wound was yellow around the jagged rip, the surrounding area pink. "This has to be treated," said Garak, only belatedly realizing that he'd forgotten it probably wasn't real. But the wound was too dangerous to ignore. "Do you know where to find a doctor?" Julian gasped slightly as he moved his arm. "I think so. Has to be soon, as well," he mumbled, and Garak suspected he was more ill than he looked. Studying the room, he added, "and we have to be gone before the patrols come back." He handed Garak the bandage and kept silent as it was re-wrapped. Garak said, a little petulant, "If you have any suggestions I will be quite relieved." Julian was too busy to react to his tone, trying to stand and not lose his balance. "There is a trail," he said, out of breath. He swayed a bit. "I think I'm going to need your help." Garak threaded his arm under Julian's injured arm, supporting him. He moved the doctor towards a low table and helped him sit, fashioning a sling out of a piece of fabric torn from his shirt. He helped Julian to his feet. Slowly, they stumbled out the door, both hesitant as Garak pulled them into the dark shadow of the buildings. He supported Julian's weight as he swayed a little, concerned that more was wrong than his arm, and whispered, "which way?" Julian pointed down the street, away from the dilapidated buildings. In the distance were rocky foot hills which turned into mountains. It would take them away from the abandoned town, and the minimal sort of protection it afforded. As he and Julian passed the last of the deserted buildings there was a faint track towards the hills, splitting off several ways. The doctor indicated the middle track, and they began the long walk. The trail wound around rocks and through small openings both could not fit through at the same time. Julian managed to stumble through, though he fell several times. The rest of the time Garak had to help support him. He was hoping that in his condition Bashir could remember where to turn along the twisting paths. He was exhausted himself. They had walked for hours with little but moonlight to guide them when Bashir turned them towards a small overhang in the rock. Garak studied him. He was about to collapse. "Is this it?" he asked. The rock shelf did not look very promising. "No, but there's water. And we should have time for some rest before we hit the next section of trail." Garak gathered it was harder. "Can you walk?" he asked, as he helped guide his friend into the hideaway. As if in answer, Julian collapsed to the ground. "In a while," he said, taking deep breaths. "I hope. It's not far, but it's rocky. I can't take the chance of falling." Gingerly, he pulled his arm out of its sling and winced as Garak checked the wet bandage. He looked up and met Garak's eyes. "Look, it wasn't supposed to be this way," he said before he fainted. Garak gathered water and tried to wash the wound, but it had gone too far for simple cleaning. He needed a doctor and medication. With Julian asleep, he sat looking into the gloom, trying to figure out how he'd gotten here. Garak didn't like mysteries when he was in the middle of them. Everything was vague. He knew this was Zas'sana and they were retreating into the hills. But he couldn't remember how he'd gotten to Zas'sana. Julian had brought him, but he didn't know why. It disturbed him, but the doctor was in no condition to answer any questions at the moment. In darkness and quiet, he gave in to exhaustion and fell asleep. He woke to Julian's careful shakes. The doctor looked terrible, but he was awake and moving. "Wake up, Garak. We have to go," he said. Garak thought to himself it might have been better to take his chances hiding in the city. It hadn't been this chilly and there were more possible options than this cold trail and his sore feet. But he dragged himself upright. It was still dark, but the first hints of dawn were starting to show. "Is there time?" he asked. Julian was leaning against the wall to support himself. His face was pale with red patches from the fever. "It's not too far. You'll have to help steady me, but I can make it." Garak made him sit, and brought water. "Have something to drink first," he insisted. Julian drank what he could, and Garak filled their water bottle. Holding the doctor by his good arm, Garak guided him out of the shelter. He took a firmer grip of the shaking shoulders, and followed Julian's mumbled directions, hoping at the end of each bend to find their destination. Eventually, after perhaps an hour and early dawn lighting the skies, they came upon a small side trail. Julian pointed towards it and Garak carried him along. It led to a small cave. As Julian was hauled inside he whispered, "This is the rendevous point. Remember the code." Garak nodded and took a firm grip. "Let's get to a safer corner," he said, dragging the doctor towards the darker end of the cave. Bashir pointed at a tumble of rocks. "There's food hidden in the rocks over there," Julian mumbled before he collapsed in the deep shadow at the far end of the cave. Garak covered him with drifting leaves for warmth, and checked on the cache of food. He felt the grumbling in his stomach, and yet had an odd feeling he might be dreaming, and had eaten quite well only a little while before. But his stomach disagreed and he uncovered the food, disappointed there was so little. He divided it in half and ate all of his portion. The food tasted wonderful, quieting his stomach a little. Julian was asleep or unconscious, he couldn't quite tell, and he packaged his half of the repast for later. He scouted around the opening briefly, careful to be silent, and retreated back into the darkness at the end of the cave. Someone should keep watch, but he too was exhausted. Gathering together leaves that had drifted in, he made a makeshift covering and slept himself. ********** There was something about the smell of the cave, and the musty leaves, that connected with the rare happy moments of his youth. Garak was dreaming about it when a sudden loud sound woke him and he startled awake, not entirely sure where he was. But he remembered there was danger and slid as quietly as possible into his pile of leaves. Julian had not moved. He waited in the leaves until he was satisfied it wasn't a trap, and quietly slid over to Julian. He was hot and soaked in sweat, and barely reacted when Garak pulled the bandages back on the severely infected arm. If it wasn't treated soon, he'd die. Garak didn't want to be left alone here. It was extremely annoying, but Julian had made this run before and knew all the contacts. Garak doubted they would trust him without Julian's support. It was unlikely without his help that Garak could escape the armies who would probably kill them on sight. He still retained a sense of this being *odd*. He knew the revolutionary forces had been angered by the failed rescue attempt and had started to simply execute the foreigners they caught. But he had no recollection of how he knew. It was the reason he'd abandoned his relatively safe hiding place. They were bound to find him sooner or later. The only real safety was to put distance between himself and the armies. Julian was making his last run. He was frustrated and annoyed. Looking at his friend, he hoped it had not been a mistake. Garak had tried to wake him, but Julian didn't respond. It had been a almost a day since they had arrived at the cave. He had split the remaining food and ate half of it himself. Julian was feverish and incoherent, mumbling apologies about taking off the safeties. Garak assumed he was dreaming he was in the holosuite. He remembered the last holoprogram they had run. This place reminded him of it a little too much. Julian had chosen to turn off the safties, and considering the dangerous turn it had taken, Garak had insisted on it being ended. Julian had complied, but with regret. He only wished this could be ended so easily. He never wanted to see the program again, even with safties. Zas'sana had made a mockery of its manufactured danger. Garak thought more was wrong with Julian than the infection. He'd contracted a local virus not too long after they'd been stranded. The runabout had been taken by the local authorities and they'd been forced to run before it could be found. The doctor had always recovered from the recurring disease, but he hadn't been injured then. Bashir's arm looked much the same when Garak changed the bandage. He was unsure why he hadn't realized the fever was partly from the disease, but was too exhausted to dwell on it. He leaned back near the sleeping doctor and dozed. He woke the instant he heard the noise, with only momentary confusion about where he was. Someone was near, entering the cave. He pulled himself and Julian back to the darkest part. The doctor was too weak to fight him. It was a bad sign. The last time he'd had this fever he'd fought everyone who touched him. He was much weaker this time. It was too easy to keep him quiet. Footsteps approached, then soft voices. "It's okay. We were delayed. We had to backtrack this time," said a woman's voice. Garak nervously hunched back in the darkness until he could be more sure of who it was. He tensed as they got closer. They did not sound like a patrol, but he wasn't taking any chances. Bashir knew them on sight but he did not. Julian had told him the password before they'd left the city. The doctor rolled on his arm and groaned. Garak froze. "It won't rain for at least a month," said a man's voice. Garak, cautiously, answered. "But we need the water." The two people came forward into the gloom. Garak was trying to move Julian as gently as he could, without hurting his arm. "Are you Garak?" she asked, cautiously. "Yes. Do you have a doctor with you?" he asked. She had knelt down to look over the sick doctor. "I'm Keela, and yes we do have a doctor. How long has he been sick?" Garak noted how concerned she looked and relaxed a little. "He hurt his arm in the abandoned area when we were hiding from a patrol. He may have been sick then. Perhaps three days." She handed Garak a first aid kit from her pack. "The arm looks bad," she said quietly, as they unwrapped the bandage. "I'll get the doctor. I don't think we should try to move him." The woman helped Garak re-bandage the wound after it was sprinkled with a yellow powder. "Try this in the meanwhile. It's fully stocked." "I didn't realize it was the fever at first," he said. She looked annoyed. "I told him to lay low. We ran out of his medicine a few weeks ago, and it wasn't safe for him to travel. He said he had to get you first." Garak appreciated the loyalty. He didn't know if he'd give the same, but thought he might. "There was something else he had to do. He left for a brief time." "Hmmph," she said, "I wondered if there wasn't more to it." Garak suspected she didn't approve, but kept it to himself. "He was so determined to go, even after he admitted you could get out with someone else. He and his fantasies." "He considered it very important," said Garak, remembering how the outlandish spy programs had been much less fun after one had become real. "Lucky for you," she said, and hurried out, leaving him with a little food and the first aid kit. "We'll try to be back today," she added, and Garak settled back where he'd been sitting in the gloom. He nodded, noting how weak Julian was. "Hurry," he said. A few hours later, taking advantage of the dark, the woman returned with a doctor. Garak was relieved of his watch. She handed him a platter of food, still somewhat warm. He ate it with enthusiasm. It was odd. He didn't remember any of the ingredients but the dish itself was very familiar. It didn't make sense, but he was just glad for the food by then. The doctor asked him to help, and he held down the patient while the arm was worked on. He tried to ignore the smell. Somehow the young doctor reminded him of Julian himself, at least as he'd once been. There was even a physical resemblance. It had been a long time since he'd seemed that young. He saw too much of himself in his friend now, and regretted it. But sleeping, the wound cleaned and medicated, Bashir looked younger. The lines of strain were gone. His fever was down. Garak missed his friend. But matters at hand had improved. If the revolutionaries didn't find them, he thought that perhaps they might get home. Garak thought about the last few months. They had been returning from a briefing, when Julian had stopped on Zas'sana for a medical emergency. Then the Ballou died and everything fell apart. The runabout had been taken. They'd made it to the evacuation point and had to scatter when that, too, turned into a disaster. They had been hiding ever since. Garak had been trying to find the runabout, but had gotten nowhere. Julian had been helping run people and supplies to the hiding place deep in the mountains, but even that area was getting dangerous. The Federation had promised help, but so far none was forthcoming. Garak worried that if and when it came it would be too late. It added to his growing frustration that he was as trapped as the rest. But Julian had been involved in more than that. Several of the factions were allied with the Dominion, and information was available for a price. Julian would disappear for a time each visit to the hiding place and return a while later, very tense. The information, this last trip, had been important enough to justify the risk. Garak wondered why Julian had been so insistent on personally retrieving him. The tailor knew it was only in part out of loyalty. He'd kept it private, but suspected that Julian knew. Just before they'd left the city, Bashir had said suddenly, "If someone says, 'It won't rain for at least a month,' you should reply, 'But we need the water.' That is incase we get separated, so they know you were with me." Garak had nodded, and hoped it wasn't necessary. But Julian wasn't done. He had walked a little further away, where they could not be observed, and looked at Garak, tense and worried. "There's something else, if I'm not up to it," he'd said. Garak wondered now if he'd already known he was getting sick. He'd told Garak a phrase, in Bajoran, to remember, then showed Garak some small object from his pocket. "If contacted, give them this. It's real important." He was deadly serious, more so than Garak had ever seen his friend. He'd nodded, aware Julian was trusting him with something vital. He'd spent the many miles that followed debating if the trust came from some bit of surviving naivete or a deeper understanding of himself on Julian's part than he was willing to admit. They had spent the next few days in the cave, while Garak grew restless and frustrated, wishing for something to do. Julian spent most of the time sleeping. If it wasn't so risky he'd have gone exploring on his own, but there were too many patrols to chance it. Nor did he wish to alarm his hosts. Julian's friends would have shot him just as quickly as the enemy if they were allowed to form any suspicions. But soon, Julian was just well enough to travel. Half-carried, he'd made it to the main camp in the mountains, collapsing again but this time mostly from exhaustion. The camp was in a hidden valley, with only a few ways in. They had approached with considerable caution, and he had carried Julian the last few twists of the meandering pathway. There were a few buildings, one full of beds. It was quiet and he put Julian to bed, enjoying the comfort of a cot himself. Without intending to, he'd gone to sleep, resting easier in the relative security of the camp. He woke a few hours later, checking on Julian, who was asleep but much cooler. The doctor came and checked his arm, which was finally starting to heal. Restless, Garak wandered around the camp, finally locating the woman he'd first met in the cave. He hoped she'd trust him a little. Keela handed him a small bowl of soup, which he ate with enthusiasm. "We're getting low on food," she said. "Enjoy that, since that's it before evening." Garak's was still hungry, but that wasn't all that worried him. "What about your other supplies?" he asked. She shrugged, "Take a guess. It's more like what isn't running out. We really needed those supplies he was bringing in." "How bad is it?" he asked, worried that they would have to compromise their location to find food and supplies. He thought of the extreme caution with which this place had been approached. She looked grim. "Maybe a week's worth, if we're lucky. As of now we make due with less." She glanced at the nearest entrance to their hiding place. "Not that it will matter too much if they find us." "They're getting closer?" he guessed. She studied him as if she was deciding if she should trust him. "This is between us. We have to get out of here while we can. But we need to have somewhere to go." "If I could be of any help," offered Garak. "I have some small experience in this sort of thing." She nodded. "That's what Julian said. We might have something for you to do, if he can't go. We're working on something." "Julian isn't well," he said softly. She stared across the expanse of mountains visible in the distance. "We're going there. We have local help." He thought about it for a moment. It was a long way away. "And you trust them?" he asked, skeptically. "What choice do we have?" she replied, resigned. "And they have their reasons. The Ballou was from that Provence. His family did well off foreign trade. They figure when this," she waved her hand around the compound, "is done the foreigners will still want to trade and they'd like to look like friends." Garak nodded. "Something in their favor, especially when there are few options." He could see the frustration in her eyes, and shared it. "When is this to happen?" he asked. "We have to finalize it, but I don't think we have much choice but to accept. Just hope Julian hurries up and gets better." She looked towards the entrance. "In the meanwhile, nobody leaves. We can't risk anybody being followed back right now." He knew she was telling him about the plan because Julian was too sick to make contact, but they didn't trust him. At least they had a plan. He only wished it wasn't so tentative. He'd never wanted to go home more than he did then, even if home had to be Deep Space Nine. ********** Julian eyed him as he shared their meal. It was the only one they'd get. Food was so low they'd cut down to one meal a day. "I guess we can call this lunch," said Julian, putting down the nearly empty bowl. "At least you're well enough to get out of bed," said Garak. "A week ago the doctor wasn't sure you'd survive this long." Julian gingerly moved his arm, still bandaged. "If we don't get more medical supplies, he may yet be right." Garak knew the wound was healing very slowly. Julian winced as he brushed his arm against the edge of the bed, and grew very serious. With much effort, he reached into his pocket and held the object he'd shown Garak before. "I doubt I'll be able to do this. You'll have to go instead." "I assume this is the real reason for this last trip of yours." Garak studied his friend, nearly collapsed against the wall. "Not entirely. There was you." Bashir sighed. "Not everyone was willing to trust you." Garak thought to himself that, under normal circumstances, they were quite right. But here they had nothing to worry about. He had no illusions what would happen should they be found by the locals. "I suppose I should be flattered," he said. "Or perhaps you understand me better than most." Bashir thought about it. "Maybe a little of both. You did save us at Internment Camp 371." He nodded. "And myself as well." Julian had a hard practical look in his eyes that looked quite foreign to Garak, even here in this place given what he'd been doing the last few months. "That goes without saying." He held out the object from his pocket. "This information matters as much as what we stopped when we escaped. It's as vital as my double's identity. It has to get off this planet. I can't make it to the meeting, but you can." His eyes were steady, watching Garak carefully. "They'll be expecting you," Garak said. "No, either of us. It was set up that way. That's one reason I had to get you out." Garak didn't recognize his friend. His tone was so cold. He wondered if it might have been the chief reason Julian had taken him along. "I see you learned something from our adventures together," he said, a little sadly, torn between a kind of pride and wish for the man that hadn't understood so well. Julian smiled briefly. "Yes, some ... " His expression turned hard and cold again, and he tried to stand. He nearly fell as he grabbed Garak to support himself. He put the item in Garak's hand. "I trust you to give this to them. It could be used to buy our way off this planet, but in Starfleet's hands it will be far more useful to everyone." His gaze was serious and intense, and Garak was a little flattered. Few would trust him so fully. He wondered if it was warranted in this case. "It's something to do with the Dominion, I assume," he said, curious how Julian would react. "Yes. Go with Keela when they meet about the plan. I already told you the password." Julian was fading already, and Garak helped him back into bed. "You're certain these people will accept me," he said, wondering if Julian hadn't retained a little naivete. "Keela has briefed me, but I don't know about the others." "Quite certain." He pulled another small object from his pocket, a small rock with unusual features. He held it out to Garak. "Drop this where they can see it fall. It's our signal and they'll deal with you. I insisted you go." Garak considered the entire situation. "I only wish it was a little more certain." Julian said grimly, "Given the choice of staying here, I'll take my chances." Garak nodded, and wondered if this one was as much a long shot as the escape from the internment camp had been. The doctor had examined Julian before they'd left, and Garak hoped this plan worked. Bashir's arm was pink again, and more notably, the fever had returned. He'd been too sick to eat that day. Rescue was going to have to come soon to help Julian. Garak wasn't sure they would include himself without Julian to encourage them. Keela was plainly resigned, but not happy, about him going along. Those arraigning the actual escape were Bashir's contacts and would not deal with anyone but him or a properly appointed substitute. So she tolerated Garak, and said nothing during their preparations. They left at dark, following an unmarked trail to another small cave. She led them into a hidden entrance, and followed it back until they were deep inside. There were three men waiting for them. One was Starfleet, or had been. He'd been marooned on this planet long enough the sheen had worn off a bit. One was a local. The other was from the same colony as the ID they carried. He wondered who would make contact for the curious object in his pocket. They looked each other over. Garak pulled his hand out of his pocket and let a small rock fall. He pretended not to notice, but the local did. "Why are you here and not the doctor?" he asked in heavily accented Standard. Garak stepped forward, ignoring the annoyed glance from his companion. "He's rather ill right now, I'm afraid. He sent me in his stead." He was closely scrutinized by all three. The small stone was retrieved, and unexpectedly cracked open. Something was wedged inside. The local nodded, and came forward. "I will deal with you." Nobody mentioned the Bajoran word, and Garak speculated which of them would be the contact. The rescue plan was discussed. The Starfleeter was acting as adviser and apparently had been in contact with Starfleet. He and the local quietly discussed things when disagreements arose. But Garak recognized a practiced manner in him that didn't fit that of a stranded engineer, as he claimed to be. The other man, the one who's identification they carried, said or did little but watch carefully down the cave. Garak eyed the Starfleeter privately, wondering when he'd make his approach. The plan was neither certain nor hopeless. Traveling at night out of the camp, they would rendevous with the locals and be provided with the a friendly place to wait. A ship would take them home from there. The former Ballou's family offered safe passage once they reached their territory. It meant a long, dangerous walk, with a very uncertain outcome, but the alternative was worse. Running out of food and eventual discovery and death awaited them if they stayed. Garak worried about Bashir. He wasn't up to that sort of travel. Garak knew that he was far too likely to end up on his own if anything went wrong with the plan. Food was served. Garak sat by himself, eating the biggest meal he'd had in a week. The local who'd picked up the rock wandered by and stopped, looking him over. "Will he live?" he asked. "Perhaps," Garak replied, calmly. "I could get the two of you out much easier. You have something certain people want very badly, and it would buy your safety. And his as well ... " He sat down, and spoke very quietly, "This plan is very risky. I would say it doesn't have an especially good chance of succeeding. But mine does." Garak looked at the man, certain it was true. "Who's to say you won't just execute us." "No one. But I'd say you have a better chance with me." He nodded, getting up. "I'll stay until we're done. You have until then." Garak watched him go. Once, without question, he would have chosen to save himself. But he didn't know anymore. He thought of Cardassia, his home, and what had been done to it. He had worked with Starfleet for Cardassia's sake, and should he get off this planet alive would do so again. But Bashir knew this, and whatever he had learned was more valuable than the decoding skills. He wanted to be away from here, but assuring his survival would betray both the Federation and his home. He was certain the information would never get to Starfleet if he gave it to this man. Discussions resumed. The third man, who had said little, came near Garak when it was done. "See that rock formation? They once revered them." He told Garak what they were called, but it wasn't a local term. Garak casually reached into his pocket for a cloth to wipe the sweat off his face. He dropped the object into the man's hand. Not a single word was spoken, but Garak was shaken by the encounter. He'd done the same thing before, but it hadn't meant likely condemning he and his only real friend in the bargain. But if it would save his people, he'd take his chances. No matter how uncertain, the plan went into effect that day. During the daylight, everything portable enough to be of value was packed, and as soon as it became dark enough the camp was emptied. There were three ways into the valley, and only two had been used. The third had been kept available for an emergency and was deserted. It was the roughest of the pathways, but passed through the least accessible areas. No patrol could chase them without being seen long before they were reached. It was hard on everyone, given the limited diet and inactive life they'd been leading. But it was hardest on those like Bashir who really weren't ready to travel. His arm was starting to infect again, the medicine gone, and his fever had returned. Garak did what he could, helping to carry the sick doctor's stretcher, but no one could do much for the sick or injured without more supplies. For all of them, survival depended on reaching the rendevous point and being evacuated to a hospital. Garak watched the young doctor as he checked on his patients. He could already see the lost innocence. It reminded him too much of his friend. Somehow, though, all but one of the sick made it to the rendezvous. It was in an open field and there were only tents, but there was ample food and medical supplies. For the sick, it was a chance. Everyone wanted to know when the evacuation was going to happen. But the only answer was to wait until word came. They trusted the locals to a degree, the supply of food and medicine evidence of good faith. But everyone knew it was only a stopgap. They couldn't stay forever. They were too good a target even with local help. Julian had survived the journey, and the medicine was helping. He ate what he could manage, but was still very sick. He, and all the rest, had been given a chance, but without rescue it was still just borrowed time. Garak found himself with too much time with almost nothing to fill it. He helped with Julian's care, but his friend slept most of the time. He remembered when the station had been taken, and his only option had been the Federation. This was no different. He was alone. He had made his choice, and opted to hurt his enemy over his own survival. He was resigned to living with the results. Frustration had given way to fatalism. If this rather dubious plan failed, all of them were on borrowed time. He just hoped it would end--however it worked out--without too much time to wait. Still, Julian had benefitted from several days of rest and better food. He was awake again. He ate a little more, and slept rather than just passing out. His fever was even dropping steadily. But he only mumbled incoherently, and Garak hoped rescue came soon enough that he didn't lose this chance as well. ********** It was pitch dark, and Garak couldn't sleep. In the other camp the sounds of the planet's wildlife were muted by distance and the cave had cut off most of the sound. But here, in this open area, the night was filled with hoots and rumblings. He did not feel enclosed, at least. But he had spent little time in places so open, and the sounds kept him awake. That was not all that disturbed his sleep. The rescue ship should have been there. No one wanted to say this plan had failed, but they were ready to run. He could not help but wonder if he should have escaped when he could. For once, he had no ready answer. Like the others, he was prepared to take advantage of the caves that dotted the nearby hills as soon as they knew. Bashir, however, was not. He was marginally better, but not strong enough to travel. Dragging him through more trails in the cold of night would likely kill him. But the local patrol would shoot him, when they were abandoned by their nervous protectors. Garak thought he'd like small odds better than none at all. ********** It was just dawn, and they had scattered into the shade of the heavy brush, settling down for the day. Garak did not enjoy the outdoors, and should he survive this he vowed he'd stay away from nature. The word had come that there would be no rescue the day before. The ship had been intercepted. It was limping home without them. They had scattered immediately, heading for the hilly area to the north. There were caves that would provide shelter and a measure of safety until something else could be decided. They were on foot, traveling during the night in groups of four. Bashir was too sick to walk. He was being carried along by Garak and one of the men, tied to a board so he wouldn't fall. He was doing better than they expected, but not well enough. Every time Garak looked at the young doctor accompanying them, he was reminded of a younger, more innocent Bashir. Soon even the bitter man he'd become would be gone and Garak would miss him. He was very tired, but could not sleep. The sounds of nature were too loud. It was too light, even with the heavy cover of bushes. Bashir's labored breathing was too weak. But most of all the choice he'd made weighed heavily on his mind. Julian could be in a hospital by now. Both could be safe. All he had to do was give the data to the other local. He had thought about it now and then since he'd passed on the information, as disaster followed disaster. It was getting more and more unlikely that they would ever get home. But he knew how vital the information was, and how important it was that it go to the right people. He seldom allowed himself to think of it, but he missed home. Most everyone that mattered to him was dead by now, and his society in the grip of the enemy. He knew there would be little, if anything, to go return to. But he wanted there to be something left. If it helped the Federation or not really didn't matter. To preserve a little of his home was all that was important, even if it cost the lives of himself and his only friend. It had been two, perhaps three days, since they had made it to the caves. Julian was getting progressively more sick. There was little to eat but the doctor was unable to take any of it. He was fading too fast. The slim hope of rescue gone, Garak had resigned himself to being alone. Julian wasn't going to last much longer. There was nothing to do but wait for the end. Perhaps it would be only for the doctor, but Garak wasn't especially optimistic about his own chances. He'd come to believe he'd made the right decision. Bashir was too sick to ask, but he was certain he would agree. Garak wasn't sure if it would be out of revenge or for some loftier ideal, but it didn't matter. He'd not sacrificed them both in vain. He was asleep when the noises came, feet and shouts. Julian didn't move. Garak tried to hide in the shadows, and pulled Julian into the darkness as well. They were just searching, not concentrating on any one place. He suspected it was a regular patrol. If he could keep Julian quiet it was possible they might not be seen. He remembered hiding in the chute, a lifetime ago, and the way the rodents had saved them. The men were getting closer. He moved further back, not daring to move Julian lest he groan. As the patrol drew nearer he pulled himself deep into the gloom. They were nearly in front of him when, suddenly, he dislodged some animal from its resting place. It protested with a loud squeak, and ran out towards the men. Garak froze. They were coming towards him now, all of them, and there was shouting as well. He stayed where he was, knowing there was no escape. Someone had a light and it was aimed towards he and Bashir. One of them dragged Julian out of the darkness, and the commander waved his gun at Garak, "Out!" he ordered. Garak came forward, standing just into the gloomy light from the pitted ceiling. Julian lay in a heap at his feet. One of them had kicked the unconscious doctor in the side, and when he didn't respond they had ignored him. No words were said. The commander pointed the rifle he carried at Garak and primed it to fire. There was nowhere to run. Garak held up his hands in surrender. The gun was pointed at his head. He heard it fire, and blacked out. ********** Garak came to lying flat on the ground. The sight of the gun pointed at him and the sound it had made as it fired was still ringing in his ears. It was murky dark and he wondered if the man had decided to spare him, and shot Julian instead. He must have been taken prisoner. He had heard about the way captives were treated, but preferred it to being dead. As his eyes focused, he noticed that Julian was lying on the ground, still unconscious. He crawled over to him, feeling his head. He was hot, his clothes soaked in sweat. It was too dark to see well, but he could tell the arm was worse from the way Julian held it, even unconscious. Garak didn't think he was hurt, though he had a very bad headache. They must have knocked him out. He looked at the dismal place wondering if this was ever going to end. He was hungry, and tired and hurt and just wanted to sleep. There was nothing he could do for Julian, so he made himself as comfortable as possible and slept. He was in the middle of a dream when sudden noise woke him. Alarmed, he looked into the bright light from the opening and could tell there was a shape there, and a murmur of voices. Footsteps were coming near. Garak did not move. "Whatever happened, the lights don't work," said a voice he recognized. Garak wondered if he'd come down with a fever as well and was hallucinating. He had no idea why he'd imagine Quark. He had thought they were in a cave, but it looked more like a room now. "I'll work on that first, Brother," said Rom. Garak was even more perplexed. There was less reason for Rom to be there. A strong light moved along a wall, carried by one of the shapes. There were noises. "Just as long as it's working by evening. Garak and Bashir tied up the other one for hours. I had to turn customers away." The Quark-shape didn't sound happy. Garak wished they'd go away. He assumed he'd get no more treatment than Julian and just wanted to sleep. He had a terrible headache and wanted it dark again. But the two shapes and the bright light wouldn't leave. He just closed his eyes and tried to ignore them. They continued to talk, on an off, as Garak rested. He wanted to check on Julian, but didn't want to attract any attention. But he was shaken awake when one of the shapes nearly fell on top of him. "Somebody's in here," said the Quark-shape, and a bright light blinded him for a second. "Both of them." The shapes were crouched around them, and Garak was certain they were real now. But they were not really Quark and Rom. They couldn't be. "The doctor's sick," said the Rom-voice. Julian let out a loud groan. "He's hurt too. His arm, it's bandaged." "Security," said the Quark-voice. "Odo, I don't know what this is, but send a nurse, too. I think you'll need to get another doctor." "What's wrong with the one we have," asked an Odo-voice. "He needs one pretty bad," said the Quark-voice. Garak had been lying still, pretending to be out, when someone touched him. He stayed still, unable to tell what was real and what wasn't. There were more footsteps, more voices, a jumble of them. His head was pounding and he could tell there were lights. He opened his eyes for a quick glance, stunned by the sight of the combination of Starfleet and Bajoran uniforms, and what looked like Quark's holosuite. He shut them, pushing out the fantasy. He wanted to be rescued. He was dreaming about it. That was why these figments were here. "Both of them are in shock, but Bashir is very ill. Get him into isolation, he's got some kind of disease. Maybe Garak, too. He's at least been exposed." Someone started to lift him and he fainted. ********** Garak hadn't spoken to Julian since he'd been released from the Infirmary, the doctor suffering from a recurrence of the disease he'd contracted on Abersand's Station, and was still trying to sort out the events of what had turned out to be an evening. But it still did not feel that way to him. The rifle had fired; he should be dead. Julian had been very sick, and his arm badly infected. Even now, the doctor did not look entirely well. He'd drifted into the Replimat once, just after his release from confinement to quarters, and had eaten hurriedly. Garak had noticed Julian looking at him, his expression unreadable. He'd eaten alone. He'd ignored everyone and without it being obvious had left in a hurry. He had locked himself inside his quarters after that, and this was the first time Julian had come out in three days. Despite all the questions, he'd offered no explanation other than the program was to be run with the safeties engaged. But Garak had done his own checking. The holosuite they had rented was in operation the entire time. The one that malfunctioned, in which Bashir's program had been running, had run Vic's lounge the night before. Somehow, Bashir's program had made a few hours into days or weeks; he was no longer sure where they'd come in on the story. It had filled in all the blanks with memories he'd never experienced, but even now they felt quite real. He'd gone over the whole experience in great detail trying to make sense of it. The times after waking from sleep were the sharpest memories. He wondered if it had been as real to Julian, or if he'd retained an awareness that it was a simulation. He knew that neither he nor Julian had mentioned the odd time factor to the authorities. The supposed malfunction had occurred sometime after Julian had left and Quark had discovered it that morning. Every possible check had been run, and all that was found were the normal range of failures, including one that had knocked them out with a shock when he and Julian had entered. It was assumed they had wandered inside the damaged holosuite by accident in the pitch dark. But Garak knew there had been more. He was certain that if one looked hard enough there was, or had been, some device inside the room that night. Security had nearly dismantled the place looking for one and found nothing. Perhaps when the program had ended it had erased itself. Bashir had been asked, but denied knowing anything more than that he'd disregarded the warning to make it more exciting. He'd been reprimanded and, for a time, confined to quarters. He was still relieved of duty until a hearing, which Garak had no doubt would clear him. But that morning, Julian had been different. This was the first time he'd been out since his sudden retreat. He looked very tired, but there was more than that. He was wearing civilian clothing as well, unusual for Julian. There was something resigned about him that hadn't been there before, like a scared child who knew nobody would help after some severe punishment. Garak was making it his business to keep an eye on his friend. This new change in mood was very alarming. He'd given up, though Garak had no idea why. His morose mood cast a warning to everyone around him to stay away. But that evening, Julian came into his shop. He was not dressed in his uniform, and was looking at the clothes. "I think I'd like a new outfit," he told Garak. After looking around, Julian had selected what he wanted and tried them on. He was dressed entirely in black. In the privacy of the fitting room, he'd dropped the false cheer. He was standing, watching himself in the mirror, as Garak spoke. "It suits you," he said, quite sincerely. There was a sudden flash of anger quickly lost in hopeless resignation. Then Bashir went utterly cold. "Now it does," he said. Garak was cautious. The tone of the last comment sounded dangerous. He thought of the way Sisko kept an eye on the doctor with a wary expression beneath the official one. "You look quite attractive," he said. "It didn't before," said Julian, ignoring the comment. There was a hint of great loss. Garak decided to ask, danger or not. "What happened in that holosuite? Don't tell me it was just an accident." Julian's studied him. "Call it a test. You're lucky, you passed. It wouldn't be a good idea to ask anymore questions. Just some friendly advice." But the tone was anything but friendly. Garak knew he should leave it at that, but still wondered about his illness. "You said it wasn't supposed to go that way. Did you mean you didn't expect to hurt yourself?" He kept to himself the other mumbles. There was a look of fear. "I should not have said that. For both our sakes, please never repeat it." Garak understood the request to be quite sincere. "Certainly. Why did you run the program with the safeties off?" Garak kept his voice steady, with little inflection. Julian was nervous. This was something he wasn't supposed to talk about. Someone had already made sure he understood that. "The danger had to be real. You would not have believed it otherwise." He spoke in a calm voice, but Garak could smell the fear behind it. He wasn't supposed to do that either. He'd been severely disciplined by someone recently, someone he was afraid of, and Garak was sure it wasn't Sisko.. But Garak had discovered what he wanted to know. "This conversation never took place," he said. Julian nodded, in silent understanding. He said, in a normal voice, "How much do I owe you for the clothes?" Garak studied him. "Nothing. Call them a present for your last birthday." Julian nodded, gravely. "I won't be around much. I can't take the chance. It's nothing personal." Garak nodded, watching him leave with his new clothes. Whoever had created that "test" was certainly not Felix. He didn't expect to see anymore of the wonderful adventures Felix had created. That was where he had learned to play. He would miss them, and he would miss his friend more. But, he thought, watching the black-clad figure as he entered Quarks, his friend was already gone. The End