A/N: Hello, everyone!

I decided I didn't have enough material for two more chapters, so I combined everything into this one. Which means, of course, that this is the end. Writing this series has been a wonderful experience for me - thank you so much to everyone who's read and commented. I hope you've enjoyed it as much as I have!

And now, the shocking conclusion! (You might want to have some tissues on hand.)

It only took a few minutes for Anna and Garak to reach his quarters. He led Anna to the bedroom – Julian was still lying on the bed unconscious. She took a medical scanner out of her kit and ran it over him.

"What's wrong with him?" Garak asked.

"His neurotransmitter levels are dangerously depleted."

"It's because of the drug he's been taking, isn't it."

Anna gave a small nod. She pulled out a hypospray, but before she could administer it, Garak caught her by her wrist. "What are you giving him?"

"His drug."

"But that's what caused this! You can't give him more – "

"He's become dependent on it," Anna said, uncharacteristically fierce. "It's what he told me to do if this happened. You asked for my help – let me give it to him."

Garak released her hand. She administered the drug; within moments, Julian's color began to improve, and his breathing was more steady. Even so, he still did not look well. The fact that he was still wearing all of his fine clothing and jewelry provided a nasty contrast with his depleted physical state. The kohl he'd put around his eyes was smeared, making the dark circles under his eyes even more pronounced – combined with his gaunt face, he looked almost skeletal.

Garak sat down on the edge of the bed, unsure of what to do with himself. After a few more minutes, Julian's eyes fluttered open as he let out a groan. It took a moment for his eyes to focus. "Did you take the deal?" Julian said urgently, grasping Garak's arm.

"I haven't spoken with him yet," Garak said. "You collapsed; I had bring Anna to help you." In spite of the nastiness of the previous night, he still found himself wanting to gather Julian in his arms, or at least take his hand in his own. That was over now, though. He fought the urge to take his hand. "What did he do to you?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"Nothing I'm not used to," Julian snapped. He shut his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. "He didn't hurt me," he said in a more measured tone. "This is from the drug. I had to take several large doses to keep up the act. I will be fine now – I just need some time to recover."

"You won't," Anna whispered, tears welling in her eyes. "You already take too much – you can't keep doing this."

Julian took Anna's hand in his own. "It will be fine," he said gently. "I just need to rest."

Garak felt a pang in his heart. He knew he had been hurting Julian, but he hadn't realized how much he'd put his health in jeopardy. He looked down at his hands to avoid looking at Julian. He noticed the small silver scars from the time he broke that crystal bird when he was a child. They were so much a part of him that he rarely noticed them, but today, they seemed as ugly as they were when he first got them.

"What is this deal you want me to take?" Garak asked, still not looking at Julian.

"I've told Oldynt you and Rom have an under-the-table scheme that requires you to retain your position of authority," Julian said. "He's willing to stay away for three months so that you can rake in some extra latinum before he takes over."

"And three months will be enough time for you," Garak said, looking up at last.

Their gazes met. "Yes," Julian said. "It will be enough time."

It was a relief, in a way. He searched himself for any desire to take control again, but found none. "I suppose I should go, then," he said.

"I suppose you should." Julian was clearly struggling to stay awake, but he was losing the battle. His eyes closed again, and a few moments later, he fell asleep. Anna and Garak retreated to the living room.

"Will you stay with him while I'm gone?" Garak asked her.

Anna stuck out her chin. "Yes," she said, her voice quivering. "And I'll stay with him once you come back, too. I'm not leaving him alone with you."

Meek little Anna was not so meek anymore, it seemed. "I won't hurt him," Garak said. "Or you, or anyone else. It's over now."

Anna gave him a strange look. He left before she could ask him what he'd meant.

It didn't take long for Garak to reach Oldynt's room. He had to ring the door chime twice before Oldynt answered. "Elim!" he said, sounding cheerful. "I'm surprised to see you so early – please, come in."

Garak followed him inside. Oldynt was dressed in nothing but a gauzy robe and short pants; his body was so well-sculpted that it didn't look at all ridiculous on him. If he was feeling the effects from last night's activities, he didn't show it. "I was just about to have another cup of raktajino," he said. "Would you like some?"

The thought of it turned his stomach, but he accepted anyway. Once Oldynt replicated the drinks, they moved to the living room. Garak sat stiffly in the chair while Oldynt took the sofa. He didn't sit so much as he lounged, taking up more room than was necessary. He reminded Garak in some ways of the previous Intendant, although he didn't seem to be deliberately cruel. His cheerful brand of condescending arrogance was maddening in its own special way.

"And how are you feeling?" Oldynt asked. "Better, I hope?"

Garak nodded, keeping his gaze fixed on his cup.

"Glad to hear it! It happens to the best of us. I remember once when I was in negotiations with some Risens over a hotel I wanted to open on their planet. Now there is a species that can drink; I was sick for a week afterward!" He laughed. "And how is our poor Julian?"

Garak looked up from his drink. He wasn't sure what to say. "He's resting," was what he finally decided on.

"That's good. He woke up looking positively green – no wonder you're worried about his health! Headaches can be a terrible affliction. I think I'll have my own personal physician pay him a visit, after – well, I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's get down to business, shall we?"

Garak nodded again. He was grateful Oldynt seemed so in love with the sound of his own voice; it saved him from having to think of a response.

"Julian tells me that you and Rom are – how shall I put it? In 'business' together. And that your 'business' would come to an end the moment you hand over control of this station to me." He held up a hand. "I don't want to know the details – I am a government official now, after all. As a businessman, I'm very sympathetic to your position. Alas, I have my own interests to look after, so I can't let it go on indefinitely. But I will give you an additional three months to wrap things up. Does that sound fair?"

"Yes," Garak said mechanically.

"Good!" Oldynt said with another flash of his wide, white teeth. "I do have one tiny favor to ask in return."

Of course he did. "And what is that?"

"I understand Julian's contract is up at around the time I'll be returning. Don't renew it."

If Garak were the man he'd been a few days ago, Oldynt would be dead. Perhaps he wouldn't have killed him right then and there, but there would definitely had been some sort of shuttle accident, or perhaps he'd be sent back to Bajor with a poisoned bottle of wine. Actually, maybe he would have slit his throat, consequences be damned. Start the war early for all he cared.

But Garak was not the man he was a few days ago. It wasn't even Julian's threat of the bombs that stayed his hand. He was simply done with it all. "All right," he said.

"Excellent!" Oldynt said. He stared off into the distance with a fond smile on his face. "Remarkable creature, isn't he? I have trouble finding someone who can keep up with me, and Julian does that and more. I think I'll just buy him outright. The things he can do with his mouth..." He snapped out of his reverie and returned his attention to Garak. "Don't worry – I'm more than happy to share. Perhaps we can have a little get together when I return."

"That would be lovely," Garak said. He even managed a smile, because he knew that Oldynt would never see Julian again. The capture of the station by the Terrans would be extremely embarrassing for him, to say the least – particularly when he found out who the leader of the operation was. It wouldn't be enough to ruin him financially, but his career in politics would be over. The thought was enough to keep him from wrapping his hands around Oldynt's throat.

"I'm looking forward to it," Oldynt said. "And now, if you'll excuse me, I really ought to get dressed and ready to go. Can't linger much longer, I'm afraid, but we'll have plenty of time to get to know each other later on. We're going to be great together, I can tell!"

Garak left Oldynt's quarters and headed to his office. He delegated his duties to a few underlings. For a moment, he missed Dukat, but then he realized that Dukat must be in on the whole Terran plot. God knew where he really was right now – probably with the rebels, carrying out Julian's orders. Garak couldn't really blame him. People tended to do the strangest things for love.

Garak stayed long enough to see Oldynt off the station, which wasn't long. Only two and a half hours had passed by the time he returned to his quarters. Anna was still there, as promised; she was lying on the sofa, her eyes closed, but she sat up the moment Garak entered the room.

"How is he?" Garak asked.

"Asleep again," she said. "He woke up once; I helped him clean up and eat a little. But he needs more rest – as much as he can get."

"I won't disturb him," Garak said.

Anna remained on the sofa, an unsure look on her face. She was clearly debating whether or not she should leave Julian alone with him. Garak decided he would leave it up to her; it wasn't as if he were in a position to give orders. He sat down in the chair opposite her; even though he had slept last night, he felt more exhausted than he could ever remember feeling. He rubbed his face with his hands.

They sat together for a while in an apparent stalemate. "May I ask you something?" Garak finally said.

Anna nodded cautiously.

"Do you really love Dukat?"

She seemed taken aback by the question. "Yes," she said eventually.

"Why?"

She didn't look as if she were going to answer, but then she said, "I have never had to lie to him."

"You don't have to lie to him," Garak repeated. "That makes him worthy of love?"

"Yes," she said. To Garak's surprise, she continued talking, her voice still soft, but not quite so timid.
"When you're a Consort, your life is made up of lies. Every moment of every day, you are dishonest – with your words, with your body, with your gestures and your laughs and your heart. With him, there are no lies. No secrets. Before I met him, I wasn't sure if I even had a self left to be. He's helped me find that self that had been nearly smothered to death. And that's why I love him."

"He used to frequent brothels," Garak said. "He didn't treat those women very well."

"I know," she said. "I forgive him."

Love and forgiveness – it seemed Dukat had everything Garak wanted. Who would have thought that Garak would ever be envious of the sniveling, sycophantic Dukat? "I'm happy for you, then," Garak said. "For both of you."

She didn't respond, but her expression became less guarded.

"Is Julian going to be all right?" Garak asked.

"I don't know," she said. "He says he will be, but I don't think he really knows, either." After another moment's consideration, she stood up. "I should go," she said. "Dr. Julian asked me to take over for him."

Once she was gone, Garak went to the bedroom. Julian was propped up against several pillows, fast asleep. His face was freshly scrubbed, the cosmetics wiped away. The jewelry was gone, as was his golden outfit – he was now dressed in a clean white linen shirt. The only thing left from his transformation was the tattoo on his arm.

Garak returned to the living room to fetch a chair, which he dragged beside the bed. After he sat down, he noticed a padd on the bedside table; upon examination, he saw it was the one that Julian used to read to him. As he scrolled through it, he remembered all the evenings he'd spent with his head in Julian's lap, letting his voice wash over him. Their readings in the evening were some of the most peaceful times he'd ever known.

He pulled up one of the texts – an ancient Terran play called Othello. Since he didn't have anything better to do, Garak decided to read it; he had to start from the beginning, since he never paid much attention to the meaning of Julian's words. The reading was difficult, but the Bajoran anthropologist whose archives Julian had retrieved it from had written detailed notes explaining the action.

He was soon engrossed. The story concerned a general who became convinced that his beloved wife was unfaithful to him. It turned out she was innocent, but Othello learned it too late. The play ended with her murder by his hand, followed by his suicide. Othello's actions puzzled him – even if she had been guilty, it seemed senseless to kill her. It was clear that he couldn't live without her; he should have just taken his own life, and left her alone.

Several hours passed. Garak dozed a little himself. He awoke when he heard Julian begin to stir. His eyes blinked open. "Did you take the deal?" he asked, still blurry with sleep.

"Yes. He's gone now."

Julian let out a sigh of relief. "Good," he said. The manic energy of the previous day was gone; he seemed more himself.

Garak brushed the Consort tattoo on his left arm. "Is this permanent?"

"No. It should fade in a few days."

Garak felt a surprisingly strong wave of relief. "Good – that's good," he said. He waited another moment before speaking again. "Are you going to be all right?"

Julian rubbed his face. "I should be able to wean myself off the drug eventually," he said. "But I can't deal with the withdrawal at the moment."

He didn't sound as sure as Garak would have liked. "I didn't know it was doing this to you."

"And would it have stopped you if you did?" Julian said, glaring at him. "It isn't like my pain has been a deterrent before. Or did you think that shoving your cock down my throat at every available opportunity was something I enjoyed?"

Shame burned through him, but even in his wretched state, he still felt the urge to defend himself. "The deal was your idea, not mine."

"Yes, it was my idea," Julian spat. "What else was I supposed to do? It was only a matter of time before you took what you wanted. At least if I initiated it, it would be on my own terms."

He was right, of course. He had tried to pretend that he'd never force Julian, but what had happened the other night proved what a monster he truly was. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.

From the way Julian looked at him, Garak could tell it was the wrong thing to say. "You're sorry," he repeated, sounding stunned. "You're sorry?" he said again, louder this time as fury over took him. "Oh yes, you're always so sorry, aren't you? But that never stopped you, did it? No matter how much pain you put me through, you always wanted more. Do you have any idea what it was like for me those first weeks? I spent every waking moment full of dread – of what you were going to do to me, and of what would happen if I didn't let you. It got to the point where I barely felt human – I was nothing more than an object – and sometimes I would wish I was! After all, objects don't feel pain. Objects are never overcome with humiliation when they're taken out and used in front of everyone. Objects don't sob in the shower, too sore to even stand – "

Garak couldn't bare to hear anymore. "You hid that from me! You pretended that you wanted me as well!"

"And you believed it?" Julian said. He sounded more bewildered than angry. "You really believed that I could love you, in spite of what you've done to me?"

"It's what you wanted me to think, isn't it? That's why you started the drug – to fool me – "

"You knew about the drug," Julian said. "Don't try to pretend otherwise. You've suspected for months now!"

"I thought you had stopped!" Tears had started to fall down his face. "When I released you from the deal. I truly thought you had stopped."

Julian looked away. "It was too late by then," he quietly. His gaze drifted to the window behind Garak. "Do you know what the worst part of it is?" he said eventually. "I enjoyed it. I knew that you loved me, and I relished how I could use that to control you." He wrapped his arms around himself as if he were cold. "No, I take that back. The worst of it was when I would drug myself to the point where I could believe my own lies, just so I could get away from my pain for a little while. And I enjoyed that, too."

He turned his gaze back to Garak. His voice had gone strangely flat. "You were using me, but I was using you, too. It didn't matter if you deserved it. It was still wrong. And I grew to hate myself as much as I hated you."

"Oh my Julian," Garak said, overcome with grief. "Don't say that. Hate me if you must, but you have to know that you are blameless – "

Julian continued as if he hadn't spoken. "If the wormhole to the other universe opened up today, I'm not sure I would go through it. I could never go back to being Dr. Julian Bashir, the fresh-faced Chief Medical Officer of Deep Space Nine, who was so eager to have adventures practicing real frontier medicine." His voice was thick with bile. "How would I ever be able to face my friends when I can barely look at myself in the mirror without wanting to vomit? And Elim – I couldn't bare for him to touch me. I don't think I could even look at him. I can't even think about him anymore."

"It's my fault," Garak said. "I did this to you."

"It's both of our faults," Julian said. "The man I was is dead. You may have wounded him, but I was the one who finished him off."

Garak began to weep in earnest. "You can cry all you want," Julian said. He sounded tired. "It won't help. I've done enough of it to know."

For a while, there was nothing but the sounds of Garak's sobs. Eventually, he got a hold of himself enough to stop. They sat together in dull silence. Garak was the first to break it. "How much longer until the rebellion starts?"

"Six weeks. Maybe a little more."

Garak felt strangely relieved. "I can help, if you'd like."

"Are you mad enough to think I'd trust you with that information?"

"You don't have to tell me specifics," Garak said. "In fact, I'd rather you didn't. You've lied to me this long – lie to me a little longer."

Julian stared at him in disbelief. "Do you really mean that?"

"I do."

"And you realize what that would mean for you?"

Oh, he knew – better than Julian did. "You've already won," he said with a shrug. "I will meet the same fate, whether or not I help you."

It took Julian another long moment to consider what he had said. "All right," he finally said. He struggled to stand up.

Garak jumped to his feet. "Where are you going?"

"To get something to eat."

"I can get it for you."

Julian hesitated. "Fine," he said, falling back against the pillow. "I just need soup and some bread. Nothing heavy."

Garak paused when he reached the door. He knew he had no right to say anything else to Julian, but then again, what did he have to lose? "Thank you."

Julian eyed him warily. "What for?"

"For these last few weeks. I know nothing about it was real, and I know it cost you greatly. But it was the most happiness I've ever known."

Julian appeared startled out of his anger. He looked as if he were trying to form a response, but Garak left the room before he could say anything.

He went to the replicator and fetched what Julian had asked for; he brought the food in to him on a tray. The mood between them was different now – the wound had been lanced and drained, still painful but not so acute.

"Thank you," Julian said as he accepted the tray. He no longer sounded angry – just tired.

"You're welcome," Garak replied quietly as he resumed his seat.

It was clearly difficult for Julian to eat, but he managed to choke most of the food down. When he was finished eating, he opened a drawer in the nightstand and pulled out a hypospray. He pressed it against his neck; he sighed in relief as his body relaxed, although he still seemed weak. To Garak relief, he didn't have the glassy-eyed stare of the previous night.

Garak took the tray. "How long will it take for you to recover?" he asked.

"I don't know." He settled in against the pillows. "I need to rest," he said.

"Of course," Garak said. He stumbled for what to say next. "I'll – I'll spend the night in my office."

"No – stay," Julian said. Even after everything that just happened, Garak's heart still skipped a beat until Julian continued. "It might draw unwanted attention if you spend the night elsewhere. You can sleep in the living room."

"Of course," he said again.

Garak returned to the dining room with the empty tray. He felt oddly calm. It was over now – all of it. There were no more decisions to be made – well, perhaps minor ones. How, for instance. And when.

At least six more weeks. It seemed both too soon and an eternity away.

He put the tray away, then replicated himself some dinner. Afterward, he went to the bedroom to check on Julian. He was fast asleep. Garak changed out of his clothes. He retrieved the padd he'd been reading earlier and retired to the sofa in the living room. A welcome numbness eventually came over him, and soon he drifted off to sleep.

He awoke the next morning to find Julian at the table, eating breakfast. He was dressed in a subdued beige shirt and equally muted trousers. He looked much improved – almost well, in fact. Garak tentatively sat down at the table as well. Julian looked up, but didn't say anything.

"Are you feeling better?" Garak asked.

"Yes. I'm going to work today. You should, too. We have to make things look as normal as possible. Can you manage that?"

"Yes."

Julian nodded in acknowledgment. He finished his breakfast quickly and left. It took Garak a little more time to get going. He didn't feel hungry, but he forced himself to choke down at least a little food. After he was finished, he showered and dressed himself. By the time he put on his armor, he felt almost normal. He scrutinized himself in the mirror. He was shocked to see that he looked the same as he always did. It seemed like he should be transformed somehow by everything that had happened.

He managed to get through the day without incident. He saw Julian once or twice, but they didn't acknowledge each other. At the end of the day, he made his way back to his quarters. He was surprised to find Julian in the kitchen, cooking something.

He looked up from the stove when Garak entered. "I'm trying to make a chicken stew," he said, indicating the pot. "My mother always used to make it for me when I didn't feel well. But it's hopeless – not even Rom could find anything resembling the spices my mother would use. And you can't really make stew quickly, can you? Proper stew needs hours to cook."

Garak stared at him. Had he finally lost his mind? Or had Julian? He searched his face, half expecting to see his pupils blown wide again, but they weren't. "It's probably edible, all the same," he said. "Set the table, would you?"

Garak did as he was told, half-dazed. He sat down as Julian brought out the pot and served them both. He went back to the kitchen and returned with a plate of bread, then sat down himself.

"What is this?" Garak finally asked.

"Stew, like I said." He took a piece of bread. "And bread as well, although it's not right, either. Not even close to right." He looked over at Garak, and seemed to have pity on him at last. "You asked me to lie to you," he said. "Have you changed your mind?"

Wordlessly, Garak shook his head.

"All right, then," he said. He began to eat.

"Why?" Garak asked, unable to form a better question.

Julian took a few more bites of his meal before he answered. "I want to be the man I once was again. The only way I can do that is to forgive myself – and to forgive myself, I have to forgive you as well."

"You – you forgive me?" Garak asked, his heart in his throat.

"I'm working on it."

Julian returned to his meal. Garak just stared at his; he couldn't quite work up an appetite.

"Do you know how I escaped from the restraint?" Julian asked eventually.

Garak shook his head.

"I didn't," he said. "You let me go."

"I did?" Garak said, stunned.

"Yes. You stumbled into the bedroom in the middle of the night and unlocked it. I'm not surprised you don't remember – you were dead drunk."

Garak took a moment to absorb that information. "I'm glad I did," he said finally. "I'm glad you will be free."

Julian gave him a long look. "Eat your stew," he said. "You'll hurt my feelings if you don't."

Obediently, Garak picked up his spoon. After they had finished their meal, Julian cleared the table. They didn't really speak for the rest of the night, but the silence wasn't a tense one. When it was time for sleep, Garak bedded down on the sofa in the living room. For the second night in a row, he found himself falling into an easy slumber.

And so, over the course of the next six weeks, Garak became a passive member of the Terran Resistance. Julian would sometimes give him tasks to fulfill, like feeding bits of misinformation to the Regent or the Bajorans, or allowing ships to drop off mysterious cargo unmolested. But for the most part, Garak's job was to keep up appearances, which he did admirably well. Garak felt like a ghost; the knowledge that it was all going to end in a few short weeks gave his tasks an unreal quality, divorced of any real meaning. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling – in fact, he almost took pleasure in it. There was no more ambitions to fill, no more force to exert, no more endless, insatiable desires.

When he'd successfully drifted through to the end of the day, Julian would join him in their quarters. He was changed from how he'd been before – he wasn't sullen the way he had been when this all had started, and he wasn't the bubbly flirt he had been when he was taking the drug. Neither was he the optimistic young doctor he'd been when he'd arrived. He was much more subdued now – but not broken. Cracked, perhaps, but still intact. He even started to take himself off the drug. The withdrawal was ugly – he spent many sleepless nights, shaking and sweating and crying with pain. Garak helped him through it. By the time he was free of the drug, some of what had gone on between them seemed to be repaired as well. Garak knew he could never be completely forgiven, but to be able to help undo some of the damage he caused was enough for him.

They talked a lot. Julian began to tell him about his old life. He told him about his friends and coworkers – about Captain Sisko, a leader who was stern but fair; and the improbably old and irresistibly mischievous Jadzia Dax (whom he'd been mad about for a little while); cagey Odo, whose watchful eyes and keen sense of justice kept the station in order; O'Brien – his best friend, a hard-headed and big-hearted man; brave and noble Major Kira, who had fought so passionately for her freedom.

He told him about the station on the other side – about the bustling Promenade with its colorful shops, its shrines for the religious Bajorans, restaurants catering to every taste, and of course, Quark's bar, which made Rom's bar on this side seem like a desolate dive. He told him about the many visitors from all over the galaxy and beyond – his fellow members of Starfleet, merchants from far-flung planets, Klingon warriors, Bajoran pilgrims, and many more. The pictures he painted were so vivid that Garak almost felt he was there. The idea that the station that was a living hell on this side could be such a glorious place on the other gave Garak a strange sense of peace – as if nothing were completely hopeless.

Garak opened up as well. He told Julian about his miserable childhood, growing up always on the edge of starvation as his mother bounced desperately from job to job, trying her best to keep them alive. He talked about his entrance into the military – how frightened he had been, and how brutal those first few years were, even for a street-hardened child like himself. Memories returned to him of things long buried – what was done to him. What he did to others. He had never thought he'd want to revisit those times, but strangely enough, he found it liberating.

It should have been impossible given what had happened between them, but somehow, something grew between them. Julian didn't love him, Garak knew – that really was impossible. But it seemed, at least, he was able to forgive him. It was almost as if they'd become friends.

Seven weeks passed this way. One morning, as he sat in his office, he received a hail from an approaching shuttlecraft. When he answered it, he was not altogether surprised to see Dukat's face fill his viewscreen.

"Hello, sir!" Dukat said. "So here I am, back from burying my mother." He gave Garak a broad wink. It seemed he was under the impression that Garak was an active participant in the Resistance. He didn't have the heart to correct him. "I'll just go ahead and dock then, shall I?" he continued. "I have the...cargo that Dr. Julian asked for. I was wondering if you'd be so kind as to tell him?"

"Of course," Garak said, although he had no idea what Dukat was talking about.

"Very good!" he said. "I'll see you later, I'm sure." He ended the call.

Garak asked the computer to locate Julian; he was in the infirmary. Garak found him in the back room, alone. He was punching a few things into a console. "Dukat has arrived," Garak said. "He said to tell you he has the cargo you wanted."

Julian continued with whatever he was working on. Garak began to wonder if he'd heard him, but then he looked up. "Are you busy right now?"

"No."

"Then go get dressed into something comfortable and meet me at Rom's," he said.

It was a mysterious command, but Garak obeyed it without question. Julian was waiting for him at the entrance. "Come with me," he said.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

Julian led Garak to one of the holosuites. He pushed a few buttons on the console and stepped inside. Garak followed. The door shut, leaving them standing in a field of striking beauty, full of green grass and abundant wildflowers. The sun shone down from a sky of perfect blue. Garak was dumbstruck. Julian started down a path that wove its way through the flowers. He looked back over his shoulder. "Follow me," he said. Somehow, Garak managed to break out of his shock and follow him.

The path led to a lake, on the edge of which was a perfect little house. He loved it immediately – it wasn't fancy, but it wasn't humble, either. It was right in the middle – something comfortable and homey, elegant in its simplicity.

He felt a stir of recognition. "It's my house," he said. "My house on Bajor. The one I always wanted."

Julian smiled. "I'm glad I got it right."

An unnameable emotion overtook him. "I don't understand," he said.

"There's not much to understand," Julian said. "We're going to have a nice day. That's all."

Garak felt tears prickle in the back of his eyes. He wasn't quite able to contain them. "Thank you," he said, wiping his eyes. "Thank you."

Julian gave him a moment to compose himself. "Come on," he said. "Let me show you."

The day they spent together was the best day of Garak's life. After having a late breakfast in the house, they went for a ride in a row boat; the lake was so clear and still that it perfectly mirrored the sunny sky. Afterward, they rode Terran contraptions called "bikes" along a country road lined with lush trees and flowers bursting with color. When they were finally out of breath, they stopped for a picnic lunch of ripe fruits, creamy cheeses and sweet breads. They rode back to the house again and spent some time merely being together, playing card games and talking about nothing in particular. Julian made them a magnificent dinner. When that was finished, they took a walk along the shore line, the waves licking their bare feet as they watched the sun set.

"We should get back," Julian said.

"Wait," Garak said. "The sun hasn't quite set yet."

They watched the sun sink lower and lower. The sky was gorgeous, melting into pinks and purples. After another few moments, the sun finally vanished. "It's over now," Garak said. "I'm ready."

They returned to their quarters. It was late, so they began preparing for bed. It was going to be their last night here; Garak was certain of it. He considered not saying anything else – it wasn't going to affect his decision – but at the last minute, he changed his mind. He sat down on the sofa in the bedroom and waited for Julian to finish showering and dressing for bed. "Dukat seems to think that I'll be joining you in your victory," he said when Julian emerged from the washroom.

Julian sat down beside him. "You could, you know," he said.

For a moment, Garak was tempted. But he knew better than to think that he and Julian could ever truly be together. They'd come to a truce, that was all. And without Julian, there was little point in it. "No. I think it would be best if I didn't."

"If that's your decision," Julian said.

"It will start tonight, won't it?"

Julian nodded.

Garak thought he would be ready for this, but there was still a part of him that was screaming with loss, begging for one more moment between them. "I know that I don't have a right to say it," Garak began. "But I am sorry for everything. Julian, I am so sorry – "

And then a miracle happened. Julian leaned in and kissed him. "I know," he said. "I know."

And then they were kissing again. Somehow they moved to the bed; clothes were shed. They were in each others' arms a moment later. It felt both familiar and entirely new. The lies and the pain were gone at last, leaving only the honest pleasure of their bodies against each other. Garak was too afraid of losing the moment to stop and coordinate anything more than the kisses and caresses they were engaged in, but it was more than enough. When they came, it was together.

Neither of them moved when it was over. Instead, they drifted off to sleep, Garak curled up behind Julian the way they often had before. Garak wasn't sure how long they dozed – a few hours, at least. He woke when he felt Julian extract himself from their embrace.

Silently, Julian dressed himself. Garak pretended to still be asleep. In another moment, he left the room. Garak heard the front door slide open. He waited several more moments before getting up himself. After pulling on some clothes, he went to his weapons locker and opened it. He carefully considered its contents. The bat'leth was clearly out. A phaser would be quickest, but it felt cowardly, somehow. Inevitably, he was drawn to his two favorite knives: the ugly, dull one that had ended the Intendant's life, and the other one – bright and sharp.

He chose the sharp one. He'd give himself that small mercy, at least. He settled the knife below his sternum. All he had to do was stab upwards to pierce his heart. Another quick motion to remove it and he would bleed out. It would be over quicker than he'd have time to process it. He steadied himself and pressed the tip against his chest.

Several minutes passed and he still hadn't moved. He wanted to die. He was ready to die. And yet, for some reason, he couldn't do it. He lowered the knife, annoyed with himself. Perhaps he should use the phaser after all. But when he got out the phaser and held it to his temple, he had the same problem.

Eventually, he decided to see what Julian was doing. Perhaps he just needed to witness the start of the Rebellion – to know for sure that their plan was a good one, and that Julian was going to be all right. He tucked the knife into his belt and set off to find Julian.

Since it was the middle of the night, the station was quiet. It was never truly dark, but the lights were dimmed, and the machinery that roared during the day was reduced to a dull hum. He figured that Julian would be finished unloading whatever cargo Dukat had brought – they would probably be at Rom's.

He was right. He could see several dark figures in the bar. He kept to the shadows and crept closer so he could see who they were. He made out Anna and Dukat at first – they were wrapped in a tender embrace. He saw Julian's face next – he was talking to three people whose backs were to Garak. He could tell one of them was Rom by the shape of his head, but he wasn't sure of the other two. He shifted positions until he had a clear view of their faces.

It was Sisko and Major Kira. They must have been the "cargo" Dukat was talking about. It all made sense – Dukat must have gone to the Badlands specifically to smuggle them into the station. He noticed that Ranrak and O'Brien were missing – they were probably rallying the troops.

The take- over of the station would probably be swift; he was sure the Terrans were already prepared. They had weapons, and they had the bombs – they could set a few of them off without destroying the station, causing chaos. The surprise would give them the upper hand to subdue the Klingons and Cardassians. The civilian Bajorans would probably not offer any resistance; they might even be able to use them as hostages. Once they had control of the station, it would be extremely difficult for the Alliance forces to take it back. And he was sure that they had more tricks up their sleeves. They would have several hard battles ahead of them, but they were winnable. Garak felt relieved.

He was just about to leave when Julian spotted him. He said something to the others and started towards him. Panicked, Garak retreated – he didn't want Julian to know what he was planning. He was closer to his office than he was to the habitat ring, so he headed there. Julian was quickly catching up to him – he called out to Garak, but he ignored him. He made it into his office and locked the door.

He pulled out the knife and put it to his heaving chest. It had to be now. He shut his eyes and mustered up every last bit of courage he had.

But before he could do it, the door slid open, and Julian burst in. His eyes widened when he saw the knife. "What are you doing?"

"Would you rather I wait for Sisko to execute me?"

"No one's going to execute you!" Julian said, aghast. "Do you really think I would let that happen?"

"I won't be a captive, then. What other choice do I have?"

"I've arranged a shuttle for you," Julian said. "You can leave – start a new life."

Garak let out a small, sad laugh. "Oh, my Julian – it seems there is still some innocence left in you after all. Do you really think that Sisko will let that happen?"

"Then stay and help us! We could use you – with everything you know about the Alliance and the contacts you have – "

"Do you love me?" Garak interrupted.

Julian fell silent, his expression pained. "You know I don't," he finally said.

"And you never could. I have done so many terrible things in my life. There is little point in continuing it."

"Killing yourself won't make up for that," he said. "If you really wanted to make up for what you've done, you'd help undo some of that damage." Julian took a step toward him. "You aren't thinking straight. Just give me the knife, and we can talk about this – "

Just then, they heard the sound of an explosion coming from the direction of the processing center. Julian was distracted for a moment – long enough for Garak to finally do what needed to be done. It hurt, but somehow the pain seemed distant. The world grew strangely sharp for a moment as his body let out one last burst of panicked energy to help him fight to stay alive. His body always had been a stupid thing; he'd be glad to be rid of it.

Julian lunged toward him, catching him before he hit the floor. He was babbling something, but Garak had trouble concentrating on what he was saying. He eased Garak onto his back.

After a moment, he was able to make out Julian's words. " – be fine as long as we don't touch the knife – I'll have Anna bring the med kit, you'll be fine – "

Garak shook his head. Their gazes met. "Please," Garak managed to say.

Julian held his gaze for another long moment. "All right," he finally said. He was crying now. "If you're sure."

Garak nodded. "Forgive me?" he asked.

Julian nodded as tears rolled down his cheeks. "Yes. Yes, I forgive you." Garak's hand was still around the handle, but he didn't have the strength to pull it out. Julian wrapped his hand around Garak's. "On three," he said. "One, two – "

The blade slid out. Almost immediately, the world began to fade away. The last thing he saw were Julian's beautiful eyes, wide and wet with tears – tears for him.

It was more than he could have ever asked for.