A/N: The end is in sight! My outline has entered what I think is its final revision, and if things go according to plan, Chapter Eleven will be the last.
I wanted to thank everyone who's left a comment - it really means a lot to me! (Seriously, I read every comment I get like twenty times.) The action's about to really heat up - I hope you all enjoy!
When Garak walked into his quarters, the smells wafting from the kitchen told him that Julian was home. He found Julian in the midst of a messy culinary adventure – he was pouring a thick liquid onto a hot pan in spoonfuls, not looking particularly confident. He looked up from his work when Garak entered the room. "Oh! You're home early. So much for my surprise. Here – " he said, thrusting a bowl into his hands. "Stir this."
Garak accepted the bowl. "What is it?"
"Pancake batter," he said as he returned to the stove. "I'm not sure if this batch is going to work out, so I thought I'd make some more. Don't stir it too much – I think it's supposed to be a little lumpy." He took a spatula and poked at one of the circles of batter on the pan. "My first roommate at the Academy used to make things like this all the time. I remembered his cookie recipe well enough, but I'm not so sure my recall on this recipe was as good. I couldn't help but try, though – one of the new vendors on the Promenade just got in the most amazing blueberries and I had to do something with them."
Garak stopped stirring and put the bowl down, harder than he had intended. The loud thump caught Julian's attention. "Are you all right?" he said, peering at Garak. "You seem upset."
"I ran into a little bit of trouble today," he said, managing to keep a neutral expression.
"Oh?" Julian said, turning back to his pancakes. "What sort of trouble?"
"Telok came to see me. He believes that Rom is involved in a smuggling scheme."
Julian didn't respond. His back was to Garak, so he couldn't read his expression. "Did you hear what I said?" Garak asked when Julian still hadn't said anything.
"Hmm?" Julian said. "I'm sorry, these require a bit of concentration – damn, I've burned them. So much for this batch." He turned around. "Smuggling, you said? That wouldn't surprise me. The Quark on my side was always dabbling in crazy schemes – why he couldn't stick to legitimate profits, I'll never know."
Julian reached out for the bowl Garak had set down. Garak grabbed him by the wrist before he could pick it up. "Is this a new ring?" he said.
Julian blinked at him, concern creeping into his expression. "Oh. Yes – do you like it?"
"How much did it cost?"
"I – I don't know," Julian said. "I never ask. Was it too expensive?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact," Garak said. "It came at a high price – very high."
The look of concern on Julian's face grew more intense. "I'm sorry," he said faintly. "I'm awful with money – Terrans don't really use it in the other universe." Julian tried to pull his hand away, but Garak held it fast. He could feel the fine bones in Julian's wrist grinding together – with the right application of pressure, he could break it. The sick feeling he'd had when he first spoke to Telok had subsided; now adrenaline was coursing through him, making his heart pound in his chest. He was angry, yes, but he also felt exhilarated. It was a familiar feeling – it's what he felt back when he used to interrogate prisoners. It used to be his only pleasure.
"Telok had some other news as well," he continued. "He believes that there have been secret transmissions sent from this station. They're hidden in subspace static – quite clever, don't you think?" He squeezed his wrist a little harder. "Have you heard that your Kira and Captain Sisko have set themselves up in the Badlands? I thought they would have the good sense to lie low, but apparently not. It seems they're starting an army. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"
There was a very brief moment when Julian looked terrified, but it was gone in a flash. His eyes narrowed. "Are you accusing me of something?" he said icily.
His anger surprised Garak a little. "Should I be?"
"The Badlands are a haven for criminals because of the plasma storms, if I'm not mistaken. Those plasma storms would make any communication from this distance impossible, subspace or otherwise. Hypothetically speaking, of course – I wouldn't know since I've never tried it."
Garak hadn't thought of that. His grip loosened a little. Julian pulled his hand free. He glared at Garak as he rubbed his wrist. "Any other accusations you want to run by me?"
"I didn't accuse you," Garak said. He kept his tone cool, although inwardly he felt off-balance.
"Oh, of course not," Julian said with sarcasm. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, his expression was milder. "I think that maybe Telok is feeling threatened. You two used to be close, didn't you? And now you're in with the Regent, and he's out in the cold. You've made Dukat your second-in-command. His career is in jeopardy. And I know for a fact that he hates me."
"We may have had a falling out, but Telok is an honorable man. He wouldn't invent accusations."
"Maybe he isn't inventing them – at least not consciously. And really, how honorable is he? Wasn't the basis of your relationship trying to overthrown the Intendant?"
He had a point. Garak frowned – had he been wrong again?
"As for Rom – like I said, it wouldn't surprise me if he was trying to pull one over on you, but it certainly has nothing to do with me; we're friends, yes, but Rom's one true love is profit. He wouldn't risk even a single slip of latinum for my sake. And yes, he probably is gouging you over my purchases. I'm sorry I didn't pay closer attention. I can return the ring if you want."
Garak shook his head. He took Julian's hand again – gently this time – and kissed it. "Keep it," he said. He noticed a fine tremor in Julian's hand. "You're shaking," he said. "Why?"
"Because you just scared the wits out of me!"
"I'm sorry," he murmured.
Julian sighed, but he looked less angry. "You've got something on your nose," he said.
"I do?"
Julian reached into the bowl and smeared his nose with a big dollop of batter. "Serves you right," he said. He was smiling.
And just like that, things were back to normal. They ate pancakes together as Julian told him funny stories about his old roommates. After dinner, Julian read him some a few lovely Terran nature poems as Garak sipped a glass of sweet Bajoran wine. Before bed, they took a bath together. Julian let Garak pull him into his lap; he moaned in pleasure as Garak brought them both to completion with his soapy hand. Afterward, they snuggled in bed, Julian drifting off into sleep as if he had not a care in the world.
But the off-kilter feeling Garak had refused to leave him. The constant back and forth between his suspicion and trust left him feeling like he was balancing on a rocky ledge. One day, he knew he would slip, and then it would all be over. But would the slip be trusting Julian, or would it be letting false doubts consume him? He didn't know.
And there was something even more troubling. There was a part of him – very deep down in the darkest corner of his soul – that was almost disappointed that Julian explained himself so well. For one brief moment, when he'd had Julian's wrist in his hand and Julian looked at him with real fear, he at last felt in control again. In spite of the joy of the life they now had together, Garak missed that feeling of power. And that frightened him more than any thought of Julian's deceit ever could.
The next day, Garak paid Rom a visit early in the morning, before the bar opened. Julian made him promise not to be too hard on him. It was just as well – as much as he longed to rake Rom across the coals, he knew it wouldn't be prudent. He'd meant what he said to Telok about keeping non-Bajoran businesses on the station. Besides, if Rom was up to something truly nefarious, he didn't want to play his hand too soon. He selected four soldiers – two Cardassian, two Klingon – and instructed them to discreetly search for anything that seemed suspicious. He told Rom that they were having a resurgence of Cardassian voles and needed to inspect the bar for possible nests.
The search took an hour to complete. Garak waited at the bar, enjoying the complementary beverages that Rom provided. He observed Rom carefully; he seemed to be going about his business as usual, although his chatter had a forced quality to it. That didn't necessarily mean anything; even an innocent person would be nervous at having his business turned upside down.
The soldiers finished at last. One handed him a padd with the results of their findings. They'd found nothing out of the ordinary.
"So, how did we do?" Rom asked. "No voles, I hope?"
"It looks like you're clean," Garak said. Rom breathed a sigh of relief that was a little too loud for Garak's taste, so he added: "If it's all the same to you, I wouldn't mind taking a brief look myself. Voles are tricky creatures. They can hide where you least expect them – sometimes even in plain sight."
"Of course," Rom said. "Allow me to show you the way."
They went through each of Rom's store rooms, the whores' quarters, and all three levels of the bar. Garak confirmed his soldiers' reports – everything did seem to be in order. He was surprised to find that he felt a little disappointed.
Just as he was about to leave, he noticed something – one of the holosuites was on. "Someone's running a program? Aren't you closed?"
Rom looked over at the offending room. "That? Oh, it's nothing – just a malfunction. The thing hasn't been running right since I got here. It turns on and off at random."
"Isn't that expensive?" Garak asked. "I know it costs money to run, not to mention the lost revenue."
Rom waived his hands dismissively. "Not really – just a little latinum here and there."
"You surprise me, Rom," Garak said. "I thought you the sort who doesn't let a slip of latinum go to waste."
"You're right as usual," Rom said. "But the thing of it is – ah, yes, it would cost me more to repair it at this point. I'll get to it when business picks up."
Something definitely was not right. "I have a Terran who is a genius with this sort of thing," Garak said. "I would be happy to have him fix it for free."
"That's so generous of you," Rom said. He didn't sound enthused. "You can send him to me later."
"How about I send for him now?" Garak said. "There's no time like the present."
"Right again," Rom said. His lips were pulled back in what might have been a grin.
Garak had one of his soldiers fetch O'Brien from the processing center. He arrived shortly after, a toolkit in tow. "You wanted to see me, sir?" O'Brien mumbled, his gaze cast respectfully downward.
"This holosuite is malfunctioning. I would like you to repair it, if you can."
O'Brien lifted his head, looking back and forth between Garak and Rom for a moment. "What trouble are you having with it, sir?" he asked Rom.
"Ah – well, it goes on and off at random. I need it to stay on when I want it on, and off when I want it off."
O'Brien started towards the control panel, but Rom stopped him. "And be careful!" he said, flailing his hands around strangely in sudden agitation. "If you break it completely, I'll buy you from the Gul just so I can give you a good beating! Do you understand?"
O'Brien gave him a slow nod. "Yes, sir."
Garak and Rom stood around awkwardly while O'Brien finished his work. It only took about ten minutes. "Fixed, sir," O'Brien said. "It should do just what you want it to do now."
"Shall we take a look?" Garak asked. He barged into the suite, not waiting for Rom to answer.
It seemed to be a typical holosuite. Garak looked around carefully; all of the panels and machinery looked normal. There was nothing else in the room.
"Well!" Rom said cheerily. "Seems like things are back up and running. Thank you so much, Gul. I'd like to offer you a free holosuite program in thanks."
"That's very generous of you," Garak said flatly. He'd been so sure there was something wrong.
He dismissed O'Brien and his soldiers. He allowed Rom to escort him out of the bar. "Thank you so much again for your assistance," Rom said. "And now, if you don't mind, I need to get ready to open." He was definitely grinning now, his whole body released from the tension he'd held for the rest of the inspection.
"There is one more thing," Garak said.
Rom tensed. "Yes?"
"It's come to my attention that you've been taking advantage of Julian," he said. "The prices you've been charging for his purchases are outrageous."
"Julian's tastes are very refined, and luxury is hard to come by, this far out from civilization. But for you, I will gladly offer a ten percent discount," he added quickly.
"Thirty percent would be better," Garak said.
"Of course," Rom muttered, clearly unhappy. That, at least, seemed in character.
He stopped briefly by the infirmary to say good morning to Julian, then went to his office. He'd just gotten started on reviewing reports when Dukat entered. "Good morning, sir," he said. He didn't sound his usual jovial self. "There's something I need to talk to you about."
"Go on, then," Garak said, hoping it wouldn't take too long.
Dukat took a seat in front of Garak's desk. "It's my mother. I had word last night that she's in the hospital. She's not likely to make it. I'm going to take my leave to see her, one last time."
Garak sighed; it was inconvenient, but he couldn't very well deny his request. "Fine. How long will you be gone?"
"I'm not sure, sir. A few weeks, perhaps? I suppose it depends on her."
"When do you plan on leaving?"
"There's a freighter that leaves for Cardassia this afternoon; I thought I could catch a ride with them."
"Yes, fine," Garak said. "Let's hope her suffering ends quickly. You're needed here, you know."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." Dukat stood up to leave, but then he paused. "Anna will be all right while I'm gone, won't she?"
"Of all the stupid questions – why ever wouldn't she be?"
"No reason. It's just...she's young. Prone to mistakes, as we all are in our youth. But in the end, she is an innocent – wouldn't you agree?"
Garak snorted. "She's a Consort – 'innocent' isn't the term I'd use to describe her."
"Then you'd be wrong. She is innocent."
It was the first time Dukat had ever spoken back to him. Garak hadn't thought him capable of it. "Well, you can put your mind at ease," he said, annoyed. "I'll make sure no one fucks your whore while your gone."
"She's not a whore," Dukat said tightly. "She's left that life behind."
"And I suppose she's sleeping with you because you two are so very desperately in love?"
"I haven't touched her, as I've told you," he said. "I'm going to marry her."
Garak burst out laughing. Dukat just stood there, quivering with rage. Garak had never seen him look so angry. It was fascinating, in a way. "Oh Dukat. You really are a fool, aren't you? The Alliance won't recognize your marriage."
"We'll be married by a Terran priest – that's all that matters to her."
"Do you really think I could allow such a thing?"
"Why not? Isn't that what you're doing?"
He had a point, but Garak wasn't about to concede it. "I haven't married Julian, have I? Even if your marriage to Anna wasn't legally recognized, it would still symbolically lift her to your status. Surely you can see how that would be problematic."
Dukat took a deep breath. When he spoke again, it was more measured. "You're right, of course. Thank you, sir – you've just made things crystal clear for me." He thrust his hand out in front of Garak.
Garak stared at it. "What are you doing?"
"I'm offering you a handshake. It's a Terran ritual," he said. "The Terrans have some lovely customs, I've discovered. Put your hand in mine."
Dukat seemed insistent, so Garak did as he asked. Dukat moved his hand up and down. "Goodbye, sir," he said. "Best of luck to you."
Garak fought the urge to roll his eyes. "We'll manage without you, I'm sure."
The rest of the day passed without incident. When Garak returned to his quarters, Julian had still not arrived. That was slightly unusual, but not unheard of. Garak changed out of his armor into something more comfortable, then poured himself a glass of kanar.
He was going to replicate a meal for them, but then he decided he might try his hand at cooking. It wasn't as if he'd never prepared food for himself – although his previous efforts were more to gain the maximum amount of nutrition with minimal effort, not creating a culinary experience. Still, it couldn't be too hard. He looked up a recipe on his padd and set to work.
It was harder than it looked and took him twice as long as he'd imagined. His efforts were at least edible, but not much more. He smiled a little to himself; Julian would probably have a good laugh at his expense.
He checked the time again; Julian really ought to have been home by now. He decided to give him a few more minutes. He set the table. Still, no Julian. He tapped his comm badge to hail him, but there was no response. An uneasy feeling began to creep over him.
Just then, Garak himself was hailed. "Infirmary to Gul Garak." The voice was young and female. Anna, he presumed.
"Yes?"
"You need to come down here, sir. Dr. Julian's just been brought in. Something's happened."
"What do you mean? What's happened?" But she didn't respond.
He flew out the door and sprinted down the corridors. It couldn't have taken him long, but it felt like an eternity. He burst into the infirmary, frantically searching until he found Julian laid out on one of the beds in the back. Garak rushed to his side. There was a device strapped to his head. He was breathing, but barely – each breath was too shallow, too far apart.
Anna was standing by a second bed, which held another figure. The body was covered by a surgical hood and the face was obscured, so Garak couldn't tell who it was. "What are you doing?" he demanded. "You must see to Julian!"
"I have, sir," she said, her voice as quiet as always, but no longer meek. He's stable for the moment. I need to finish treating Ranrak – he's been stabbed."
"Forget him!" Garak roared. "I command you see to Julian at once!"
She didn't look up from her work. "I will, sir, but I must finish here – and I can't do anything for Dr. Julian until the computer finishes the tox screen."
"Tox screen?" He looked down at Julian. His eyes were half-shut, his mouth slack. The color had drained from his face. Thoughts of the hypospray flashed through his head. Was it an overdose? "Julian," he said, cupping his face in his hand. His skin was cool to the touch. "Julian – wake up, please wake up, please – " He started to weep.
Anna left Ranrak's side, presumably finished with whatever she was doing. After glancing at the console, she took a hypospray from a drawer and filled it. "Excuse me, sir," she said. Garak obediently moved aside. She pressed the hypospray to Julian's neck. After a second, he jolted upright as he sucked in a deep, wheezing breath. He crashed back to the table and started to cough, the force of it so strong that his whole body jerked.
Relief flooded through Garak – he was alive at the very least. He took Julian's hand in his own as he continued to be racked by coughs. Color began to return to Julian's face, but his eyes remained half shut. When the coughs at last grew weaker, Garak turned to Anna. "Was it – was it an overdose?" he asked.
She shook her head. "No. He was poisoned."
"Poisoned? With what?"
"Voraxna. I gave him the antitoxin – he should be all right now."
"He doesn't look all right," Garak said. "He's shaking." It was true – his whole body was racked with tremors.
"Get a blanket from the drawer there," Anna said as she returned to the terminal. "We need to get his body temperature up."
Garak did as he was told. He put the shining thermal blanket over Julian, tucking it in tightly. "It will be all right," Garak said. He wasn't sure if he was talking to Julian or himself. "Everything will be all right." He found himself weeping again.
Anna returned with another hypospray. She pressed it to Julian's neck; the tremors stopped. She pressed a button on the device on his head and squinted at it for a moment. "He's stabilizing," she said.
"He's be all right, then?"
"Yes, sir." She put a hand on his shoulder. "But he does need rest."
He allowed her to steer him to a chair. He sat there for several minutes, staring numbly at the floor, waiting for heart to stop racing. Finally, he gathered his wits enough to speak again. "I want you to tell me exactly what happened."
"Dr. Julian left for his quarters about thirty minutes ago. About twenty minutes after he left, four Terrans came to the infirmary, carrying both him and Ranrak. They said they'd found them in one of the corridors in the habitat ring. Dr. Julian was unconscious, and Ranrak had been stabbed in the back."
"And where is Dr. Neeltris?"
Anna shrugged. "I don't know. He doesn't come in very often."
Garak noticed a knife laying on a tray. He picked it up. "This was the weapon you found in Ranrak?" he asked. Anna nodded. Garak examined it.
It was a Klingon knife.
A cold fury came over him. He gripped the handle of the blade tightly in one fist. "Alert me if there's any change in Julian's condition," he told Anna. "I will return shortly – there's something I must take care of."
He returned to his quarters and put his armor back on. After he was dressed, he opened his weapons locker and took out his bat'leth; he strapped it to his back. He wiped the green Vulcan blood from the Klingon blade and holstered it as well. He didn't take a phaser – he wasn't going to need it.
Once he was prepared, he asked the computer to locate Telok. He was at the Klingon bar that had recently opened on the promenade. Good. He wanted witnesses. Even with as furious as he was, he knew he had to approach the situation correctly to avoid shooting himself in the foot.
The dimly lit bar was crowded with Klingon soldiers, making the sort of raucous noise Klingons made when they were enjoying themselves. Telok was sitting at a table in the center of the room. Compared to the rest of the Klingons, he was subdued – somber and somewhat distracted. Telok didn't notice his presence until he stabbed the knife into the table in front of him, lodging it into the wood. The din of noise abruptly quieted as the soldiers turned their attention to Garak.
Telok gave him a startled look. "What is this?"
"A blade that one of your men seems to have misplaced," Garak said. "Tell me who it belongs to."
Telok gave him a long, wary look before he turned his attention to the blade. He pulled it out of the table and examined the handle. "This has the mark of the Rudras family." He looked up. "Turmal! Are you here?"
An awkward young Klingon pushed his way to the front. Garak recognized him as the young soldier whose incompetence allowed Julian and the Major escape so many months before. "Yes, sir?"
"Is this your blade?"
Turmal gave them both an extremely nervous look. He accepted the knife and examined it. "Yes, sir," he said, his voice quivering.
Telok took the blade back and handed it to Garak. "Does that answer your question?"
"Yes," Garak said. He turned the blade over in his hand for a moment. Then, without warning, he plunged it into Turmal's neck. Red blood spurted from the wound, spraying Garak and the table and Telok himself.
The bar erupted into chaos – the Klingon's roars and the sounds of weapons being drawn filled the room. Garak had his own bat'leth drawn before the boy's body hit the floor. Telok jumped up from his seat with a roar of his own. "What is the meaning of this?!"
"That blade was found in the back of my Vulcan slave!" Garak shouted in a voice loud enough to carry over the rest of the noise. "He was found next to death in a corridor – and beside him was Julian, poisoned."
"So the whore is dead?"
"Not dead, no – and for that, you should thank your gods, because I will be satisfied with your quick death in battle instead of a prolonged demise from torture!"
"And you dare to accuse me? You dare to kill one of my men!?" Someone threw a bat'leth to Telok, who caught it easily. Garak attacked him as soon as he was armed; the other Klingons scattered to make room for them. Telok met his blow, locking their blades together.
Their faces were inches a part as they struggled to throw one another back. "You demanded only yesterday that I get rid of him, and the next day someone injects him with poison?" Garak said. "Do you think I'm stupid?" With a burst of strength, he sent Telok crashing backward.
"I ordered no such thing!" Telok said. "You are being deceived!"
"Don't talk to me of deceit – you plotted for years with me behind the Intendant's back, too cowardly to strike directly. And now you're doing the same to me!"
"Cowardly? I was only following your orders, out of loyalty to you. That makes you the coward, not me!"
"Yes, but I'm a Cardassian. Everyone knows we don't play fair."
Garak attacked again. Telok met him blow for blow and even managed to score a few wounds, but Garak's anger gave him the advantage. Their fight spilled out of the bar and onto the Promenade, drawing further spectators. Telok was no match for his fury – Garak soon had him laid out on the ground and disarmed, his blade skittering across the floor. Garak held his bat'leth to Telok's throat.
Telok looked up at him, his gaze steady. "I swear I did not do this," he said. "It is another trick by that slut; he is a viper in your bed – "
Garak snarled and slashed his throat, so deep that it nearly severed his head from his body. Everyone fell silent, waiting to see what Garak would do. He simply stood there for a long moment, his breath heaving in and out of his chest. Finally, he reholstered his bat'leth and turned to one of the Klingons. "Take care of him and the other one," he said. "Perform your rites. And we will discuss what comes next tomorrow." The Klingon nodded solemnly; he gestured to a few others, and they collected Telok's body. Garak knew they would not retaliate. He had beaten Telok fairly in honorable combat. Klingons respected that. He was counting on that being enough for the Regent, but that was a much dicier matter.
He turned his gaze to the rest of the spectators. "Well? Get on with your business!" he shouted. "This matter is concluded." Everyone scattered.
Garak stumbled his way back to the infirmary. He felt almost drunk with adrenaline – he knew he was wounded, but he barely felt it. His armor had protected him for the most part, but Telok had managed to slice into his arms a couple of times; he also had a minor cut on his cheek.
When he arrived in the infirmary, he looked first to Julian. He was awake, the head of the bed raised so that he was sitting upright. Garak hurried to his side, taking his hand and kissing it. "Julian," he breathed. "Oh my Julian – you're all right."
Julian looked up at him with wide eyes. "What happened to you?" he said, his voice raspy.
Garak started to answer, but he all of a sudden felt dizzy. Anna was there beside him, preventing him from stumbling. "You're hurt, sir," she said, her voice as gentle as her touch. "Can I see to your wounds?"
Garak assented with a grunt. She helped him remove his weapons, armor and shirt, then led him to a chair. Once he was seated, she took some sterile cloths and ointment from a drawer and began to clean his wounds. Garak felt a twinge of guilt about the way he'd spoken of her to Dukat.
He shut his eyes and let out a long sigh as Anna finished her work. When she was finished cleaning his wounds, she brought out a medical instrument and started to heal them. Once that was done, Garak felt marginally better. He opened his eyes to find Julian peering at him intensely. He looked much better than earlier, but he still was pale and drawn. "Please, Elim," he said. "Tell me what happened."
"I assume Anna told you how you came to be here," he said. Julian nodded. "The knife used to stab Ranrak was Klingon. It was a plot by Telok to get rid of you once and for all. I believe that one of his men was supposed to inject you, but then Ranrak surprised him. He must have stabbed him in order to make his escape."
"And you confronted Telok about this."
"You could say that."
"What did he say?"
"He denied it, of course. He gave up the fool who did the deed – probably hoping to deflect blame."
"What do you mean?" Julian said, looking alarmed. "How did you know who did it?"
"The knife was marked with the owner's family name. It belonged to that young Klingon – Turmal was his name."
"What do you mean, 'was?'"
"He's dead now. I killed him."
Julian put a hand over his mouth and shut his eyes for a moment. "Turmal was just a boy," he said after he'd collected himself. "He wasn't like the other Klingons."
"Well, apparently he had you fooled."
Julian opened his mouth as if he were about to say something, but he shut it again. "I suppose you're right," he said after a moment. "And what happened after that?"
"Telok and I fought. I won. And now he's dead, too."
Julian nodded, almost to himself. He looked as if he were fighting back tears. Garak felt a surge of tenderness – his gentle Julian, mourning even for the monsters who had tried to destroy him. Once Anna was finished healing his wounds, Garak returned to Julian's side. "Don't blame yourself for this," he said. "They brought it on themselves."
"Will this drive a wedge between you and the Klingons?"
"Perhaps. I made sure to combat Telok honorably – hopefully that will minimize the damage." Garak cupped Julian's face in his hand. "But let me worry about that." He leaned down and captured Julian's mouth with his own. Julian parted his lips and let Garak deepen the kiss; by the time Garak pulled back, he was panting. "I will never let anything happen to you," he said with passion. "No one will take you from me – no one. If I have to kill every last Klingon in the galaxy, I will. And I'll do the same to anyone who dares to threaten your safety."
Julian met his gaze. His normally bright eyes seemed dimmer, somehow. "I know," he said.
