Warning: Some descriptions of death and torture. Nothing past PG13 or PG14, I think.
A/N: This was actually inspired by summerartist.
If ever there was a time that Elim wished to be wrong, it would be now.
As the right hand of Enabran Tain, Elim Garak enjoyed many pleasures that those in the common class did not. His wants came first, his words meant something, and a raise of his eyebrow caused many a Cardassian to tremble in fear. Of course, he worried over nothing, and sought only higher positions of power. Tain would not live forever and a replacement for him, as the Head of the Obsidian Order, would be elected. Garak did everything to assure those above him saw his potential.
Yes, Garak thrived off this existence. Weaned on it from an early age, Elim knew of no other existence. His childhood consisted of stories about the State and its guidance toward peace. His mother stroking his hair as she spoke about those out in the galaxy who needed their aid to be safe. His adolescent years transitioned him into his chosen field, that of the Order. Tain, personally, seeing to his education. Truly, Garak had never looked back.
He succeeded in entering the Order right out of school. He struggled a bit at the beginning, due to his peers being larger in stature than he. But once Tain had showed him how to distinguish between private and public life (hence why Garak served the Order and Elim went home at night), Garak soon pushed that behind him. He elected to study psychiatry – the manipulation of the mind intrigued him greatly – and social etiquette – the ease with which people allowed themselves to be fooled by pretty words thrilled him.
Garak loved the State.
Elim hated it.
Cardassia filled Garak with pride; to serve his people so seemed the epitome of glory.
The subservient obedience disgusted Elim; no one saw the truth in any of it.
All of it drove both sides of him to insanity at night – the only time Garak allow Elim such selfish and dangerous thoughts. He'd lie on his bed and stare up at his bleached ceiling until his mind shut down from shear desperation. So many dark memories, so many deaths, and all for the State. Nothing else mattered; not family, not religion, not life. And it had satisfied Garak for a time, this standard of living.
He never thought anything of it.
Not until Enabran Tain ordered him to execute his own blood brother – one birthed from the same mother.
0/0/0/0/0
Seltan stood at the balcony, the summer breeze toying wildly with his dark hair. Elim's brother had tied the long mane with a thick, leather strip, but the large gusts off the coast made the action seem superfluous. Even now, the invisible force strove to rip Seltan's hair from its bond. The wind also played with the green coat and pants adorning the older Cardassian male. A white belt competed the ensemble.
The corner of Elim's lip twitched at the familiar sight. He made sure to scuff his shoe across the stone floor, and Seltan glanced back at him. A wide smile flew across Seltan's lips.
"Brother!" he cried. "Is not this one of the most glorious sunsets you've ever seen? Truly, the sanguine red bleeds heavy into the purple robe of the trees. I wish I had a few more moments with which it paint it all."
"You could take a picture of it," Elim said as he stepped onto the balcony.
"And ruin the sight with artificial coloring? Nay, brother, only paint or pencil could do this sky justice!"
How like Seltan to dramatize such an ordinary event.
"I do believe you've said that for every evening," Elim said, allowing a playful smirk to grow as Garak came to the forefront of his mind. Now, was not the time for sentimentality. NO, the State came first, and Garak knew what his duty had to be this night. Thus, it was that Garak, not Elim, ambled closer and clasped his hands behind his back.
Seltan rolled his eyes. "Must you be so dour?"
"It is you who are the poet, brother, not I." Garak scanned the yard below and found no servants in sight. "I have no time to ponder such frivolous subjects, nor the ability to change them into something greater than they are. That power, my brother, belongs to you alone."
Seltan's grey cheeks darkened even as he chuckled. "Always with the self-deprecating words. What do they teach you in the Order?"
Garak made his smirk widen.
"Fine, keep your morbid thoughts," Seltan said, waving a lazy hand at him. "I only reserve the right to laugh at you when your hair turns grey prematurely."
"Me?" Garak laughed and clapped Seltan on the shoulder. "Who was it again who caused our mother to worry each time they stepped out the house? Who had the neighbors calling about one missing animal or another? And I shall be the one with grey hair? No, brother, your pretty thoughts will stress your body out long before my work does so to me."
Seltan shook his head with a snort. "Perhaps, perhaps."
Garak watched as the Cardassian turned towards the fading sky again. Carefully, so that no clothing rustled, he withdrew a plunger with a needle from his coat pocket. It was the least he could do for one who was family. A simple, relatively painless, death. Two minutes at most. Garak would obey Tain's commands, but the Cardassian had never stated how the assassination was to be carried out.
"When did you get your orders?" Seltan asked, his back still to him.
Garak eased his stance, even as his grip on the plunger tightened and he stepped close enough to feel his brother's body heat. He leaned in, mouth inches from Seltan's ear. "What gave me away?"
"Nothing. I've always known it would be you who would kill me." A choked laugh erupted. "How else could it be?"
"You know, then, that my love for you will not change." Garak placed a hand on Seltan's shoulder. A shiver went though the other Cardassian's body and up into Garak's arm. He squeezed. "You will always be my brother and I shall honor your memory."
"Of course." Seltan's voice softened. "I never doubted that. Not for a moment."
Garak plunged the needle into the waiting neck and pushed the yellow contents into his brother's bloodstream. He pulled the needle out and returned it to his pocket, though not before making sure the plastic cap was back on. Seltan jerked, but Garak maintained a firm grip on him. Slowly, ever so slowly, the taut muscles in Seltan's body quivered and then relaxed. Garak cradled him as he fell to the floor, brushing a soothing hand through his hair.
"It'll be over soon, brother." He allowed Elim to slip through just the tiniest of bits. "Close your eyes. Rest. I shall not leave you."
0/0/0/0/0
Only after that, did Garak's eyes start to open themselves to the horror that surrounded him every day. Only then, did the pleas and dies of those caught by the Order register in his ears. The irony did not escape Garak. For how telling was it that he noticed these things only after he, himself, had been affected by them? Seltan would have spouted hours upon hours' worth of lectures about it, mixed in with laughs and 'I-told-you-sos'.
No, Garak held no grand delusions about his awakening.
For several long months, Garak fought to maintain his normal appearance. Yet, as the days slipped by, Garak found himself sinking deeper and deeper into despair. The visage of Garak cracked and shattered. This was not the Cardassia he'd dreamed about as a child, not the one taught to him as an adolescent. This Cardassia thrust its ways onto those who never needed it. It forced their surrounding neighbor planets to capitulate or be destroyed. It ever sought to expand its territory; even going to far as to take on the Federation of Planets, Starfleet.
However, Starfleet and its allies were proving they were up to challenge. A mere handful of planets lost, all others stood strong. Elim knew an out when he saw one, thus he contacted them and offered secrets for asylum.
0/0/0/0/0
The blank screen lit up and the surprised face of Commander Long appeared. After a second, the human bristled. The first signs of annoyance and fear bled through the stony face. Elim let the human say the first words, allowed him the privilege of initiating contact. After all, he surmised, it might be best to let the man think he had some semblance of control here – Long did, in a way, just not as much as he thought he did.
"I don't know how you got ahold of this line, Cardassian, but rest assured –"
Garak cut the balding man off before he could raise his voice and alert his security to this illegal transaction. "Yes, yes, Commander, you hate my race and wish us death. I heartily agree, but we're not here to discuss such monotonous facts."
The human's eyes narrowed. However, something sparked in man's face, and Garak knew he had him. "You have one minute, Cardassian."
Elim held up a few data chips. "I wish for asylum on one of your Federation of Planets. In exchange, I shall give you information known only to the State; prisoners, rendezvous points, and spies within your coalition."
"And how do I know any of this is real?"
"You don't." Elim shrugged. "It's the chance you take when dealing with us, I'm afraid."
Long glanced at someone off screen. "I'll have to discuss this with my superiors." The man gave him a layered smile. "You understand."
"Quite." Elim sat back. "You'll need to tell them to hurry. I must leave soon, or else I risk discovery. If I have to, I shall go to the Vulcans and share my information with them. I'd rather do this with your people, but time is of the essence."
He sent a smile of his own. "You understand."
0/0/0/0/0
Needless to say, Starfleet agreed.
They had to really. The war was only just beginning and even the humans could see they would need every advantage they could get. Elim used that necessity to his gain. Which was why he also got his hands on a prisoner newly shipped over. What better way to ingratiate himself to this new alliance, than with the return of one of their own? Yes, the data chips would be accepted happily, but a physical manifestation of Elim's sincerity would go an even longer way.
He typed in his authorization code into the computer pad by the door and relished in the instant opening of the locked room. He'd miss this sense of power when he left. Starfleet would be sure to 'put him in his place' once he arrived at the designated spot two days hence. Plus, Elim imagined they had their own version of debriefing. He wondered how close it would be to the Cardassian.
The stink of old sweat brought him back into focus. He'd a mission to accomplish and only a few hours within which to do it. Elim stepped aside for Garak and he stepped in, squinting as his eyes were assaulted by the intense lighting in the room. As his eyes adjusted, Garak made out the form of a young human, lying crumpled on the floor in a fetal ball. His shirt had been removed and his pants showed signs of tearing. A thick sheen of sweat shone on the trembling body. The bright lights beamed down on the helpless human and vivid welts pockmarked the pale back.
Poor boy, Garak couldn't help but think. And the man was more boy than adult. He could see that now. Barely into his twenties, if Garak's gage of human aging held true. Still, he wondered what rank the boy held, to catch Tain's interest. He strode over to the table, upon which rested several pads. He picked up the blue one and scrolled through it.
The more he read, the angrier Garak became.
This boy knew nothing! Absolutely nothing. He'd just graduated from medical school, from these notes. Second in his class. Bright. Naïve. He'd been headed to Deep Space Nine, for his first assignment, when Tain's agent had kidnapped him.
And for what?
Tests.
Evidently the boy had genetic enhancements and Tain wished to see how well the boy would hold up to torture. Perhaps, dissect him, after he'd outlived his usefulness, and attempt to duplicate the enhancements on some Cardassian soldiers. It made sense, in a horrific way. Tain lived, breathed for the State. Taking an innocent boy would mean little to the Order's Head.
Garak placed the pad back on the table and walked back over to the boy.
The human stilled as he got closer.
Garak hunched down and sat on his heels. "You have two choices, my boy. Stand and leave with me. Or stay."
Brown eyes peered up at his through dark hair. No trust lived in them. Yet the boy pushed himself up with one hand. Garak noted that the left twisted in an unnatural way. Broken then. He'd have to fix that in the shuttlecraft. He shifted to carry some of the boy's weight and ignored the violent flinch his proximity induced. He had no time to be sensitive.
"Good choice," he told the boy.
So, I realize that Elim seems kinda bi-polar in this, switching from Elim to Garak, but I feel its just part of his compartmentalization. He needs to do this in order to survive the horrors he's commanded to do...until he can't. I also apologize for ending it on such a cliffhanger. It was feeling really stretched thin at this point. I will be writing a sequel at some point, so never fear, resolution will happen. :D
Let me know what you think, please?