Author's note: Been quite busy for a couple of years now. Finishing up college and all kinds of interesting ventures. This story is quite long and I really didn't want to abandon it because of all the wonderful comments that people have made over my little hiatus. I was glad to hear that people were still reading and wanting to know the ending. Because of that, I have come back and am ready to continue.

Thank you to everyone.

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A ship passes neatly by the window. The shape and color of the ship brand it as a Bajoran transporter. From my window, I watch it descend gracefully down to Bajor. The yellow glow of the engines pulsate in an eerie show of good-bye as the ship goes further and further away. I feel my hands twitch at my side in reply.

A horrible habit of mine. I can never seem to stop moving. Whether it is my hands, my feet, or my face. I always seem to have this unending need to be mobile. Especially, when I am caught in awkward situations such as these.

Garak is here. Alone with me. For the last time.

We face each other. Something akin to opponents awaiting battle on some desolate arena. Although, the question is not who will win but what is to be sought from such a battle.

Those lonely eyes watch my own survey. I know that he never misses a single detail. Especially, when it comes to other beings. If the arm that is hanging at my side twists to expose the inside of my wrist, Garak's sight will rest there. His oceanic eyes will criticize the coloring and bulge of my veins against my skin. The movement of tendons beneath bronze flesh. Then he will estimate the thought that was taken in that action of my limb. In my mind, I believe that he never allows any detail to go unnoticed.

However, I am not so different. I seek out every feature of him. Both external and internal. I am doing it out of desperation and loss. I don't want to forget Garak. Not a single part of him must be lost to my mind. How his thick locks which always seem to bend to his will and submit to be put in a dark sophisticated look. The thick build of his chest and arms. The gentleness and grace of his tailor's hands. The taste of his clothes. Elegant, simple, and fine.

"You have not fully dressed yet," observes Garak in a suggestive rumbling voice, "Does that mean that you have not already packed everything?"

"I had company on such short notice. First, Julian. Then Captain Sisko. I had no time to finish dressing."

"You are very popular on the station," the Cardassian notes as I move to the bedroom, "Perhaps, you should consider not leaving behind so many dear associates."

I freeze in the doorway at what his words hint at. My back is turned to him so he can not see how I feel. The tension in my cheeks and lips tell me that I am beguiled by his meaning. Tentatively, I continue on my way while speaking, "I must go. It is time to move on and continue my wanderings."

"My dear, is that all this is? Wandering?"

"I like wandering. Going wherever I please and doing as I wish," my hands push through my bag's contents in avoidance to meeting his stare, "Did you never just travel simply to be in a different place, Garak?"

His voice falls heavily in my ears as his hands rest on my roaming ones, "Perhaps, a change in pace might interest you. Staying in one place for an allotted amount of time would certainly be a change."

"I don't think so, Garak." I continue my rummaging despite my own desire to hold his icy fingers, "I need to go."

A warm feeling waves down on me from the weight of his hands on my own. An inclination to push back against him urges itself on me. I must not react. I will not react. If I do then I might stay

Neither of us seem to be interested in even attempting to hold onto the conversation. Instead, I try to forget that he is here with me. That this could easily be the last time that those particular Cardassian eyes ever make contact with mine. I must not dwell on what could have been. Only focus on what is.

Go on. Don't allow him to stop you.

"You will see that this was all for the best."

I keep my words mellow and lowered. I have to make him believe that I am relaxed and completely in control of what I am deciding. If he sees even the smallest bit of uncertainty, he will prey on it. I must get away as soon as possible. These thoughts that he causes me to have are so unsettling. Nonchalantly, I pull my brush out of the bag to finish dressing.

His chilling reply follows me as I leave the room, "Or, the worst."

I hold my brush with dread. Every swipe through my hair is taking me closer to Entek and further away from Garak. If only one could stop the universe and change everything then there would be no chance of "worst." My hands fumble around the black strands as I try to style it for the day. Twisting and pulling and because I am so frantic; breakage occurs.

Mumbling over my injury, I twirl the broken strands around my fingers then reach for my brush again. Then I freeze as I feel another presence in the space. I know he has stepped behind me. I can more than feel him.

As he exhales, the moisture from his warm breath clings to my skin. My limbs are locked in place. Yet my body wants to lean back into his. I want to be as close to him as the air from his lungs is to me. I want to cover every area of his flesh with my breath. This want is torturous but so sumptuously ideal.

So many ideas and all of them are sensuously Cardassian.

Looking up into the mirror, I see Garak's calm demeanor. It appears that he feels nothing. No fire. No shivering. No loss of self-control. Guilty at having such feelings while he has none, I look down again for my brush.

"Are you having difficulties?" He asks politely.

The question hardly needs an answer. He knows that I am but I think that he's looking for a some other explanation. Something that is closer to a confession. As though I could ever confess the thoughts that were just in my head.

I hide my blush as more "sensuous Cardassian" thoughts tug at my mind, "Of course not. I never have difficulties."

"I would never expect anything less then perfection from you, my dear," that hesitant pause brings my gaze back to his small smile, "But as our favored doctor says, "Everyone has their days."

"If that is so then today might be one of those days."

"Upon that admission, may I be of assistance?"

Why must he ask questions like this? With such damned expressiveness as well. Especially, when it seems that it would be rude of me to refuse.

Unsurely, I raise the brush up towards my shoulder. From the mirror, I watch his right hand rise gracefully up and gently grasp the top. Then with something similar to a look of pleasure, he begins with light strokes.

I could never tire of watching him. The laced movements of his hands. To look at them, one does not see gentleness nor an artisan's hand. But what captures me is the possibilities that can come from those limbs. The gray skin that covers them is not gruff in their texture but as smooth as polished stone. Easily, the small bones can be seen as his fingers avert their hold.

He pushes slowly through the strands. His sight rests on my hair as it parts and closes around the bristles of the brush. My eyes close at the care he is showering me with.

My mind stretches over so many thoughts of him. Images of his cool lips touching lightly on mine. His voice whispering all that I hope he has been imagining. Dark and passionate thoughts to match my own. I can dream of the thrill that his voice would carry in black tones of desire and how the sound would carry from my ears to my body. My imagination begins to run away with me until it's too much for me. I push my eyelids to open but it seems that I have simply tripped into another trap.

My glance touches upon the mirror and in its reflection, he is looking at me. No, it is more than mere looking. His gaze is devouring. Overpowering. If I didn't know better, I would think that he has gone insane with his hungry stare.

Both us are frozen in wonder at each other. Holding one another's attentions, while not wanting to break this sudden connection. My breath feels as though it has been held for hours when his voice finally comes through.

The tone feels almost aching, "Erica. I- I must go."

The handle of brush touches my shoulder. Obviously, he is avoiding any physical contact. The moon colored hand at his side is clenched as is his jaw. Something akin to nervousness grabs my heart and throws me out of the chair to pursue him.

"Garak! Wait!" I see how my words hardly do little to stop him. The normally bold Cardassian now is escaping towards the entryway. Planning to chase after, I bound forward across the carpet.

Then his steps halt. His shoulders pull in and out with the breathes of his lungs. His body appears disturbed. His stance makes me uneasy in how tense he is holding himself.

What should I do?

Ideas yank each other through the cortex of my brain as I attempt to come up with an ideal way to solve whatever this problem is. My hands hold themselves together unsurely as though I would want nothing to come between my f- No, between Garak and me. I do not want to be his friend. I never have.

My hand reaches out to lay on his dark purple tunic. The fabrics tightens on every inhale as I lean close-

"It would be wise of you to not do that, my dear." That tone. Instantly, I dare not go further. Such firm ferocity is emanating from him but not hostility. My logic tells me not to disobey his wishes but something else urges me to do as I feel.

"When you first arrived on the station, you befriended me," I can practically hear the racing beat of his heart as Garak faces me with an unknown coldness that I've never encountered from him, "Why?"

My eyes try to reflect some control as though I can rewind this odd situation while I try to answer coolly, "You dressed well."

"As much as I admire your wit, my dear, you will have to do much better then that," He starts moving around the room in slow measured steps, "Did you think that I ignore the things that happen on this station? That any event slips past me? And that you are any different?"

Admittedly confused, I question him, "I don't understand, Garak. What exactly are you implying?"

"I was hoping to eliminate the usual repartees of this kind of situation, however if you insist." His arms slip behinds his back as he continues on, "In the beginning, my dear Erica, I suspected that you were from my home planet. Your infallible mannerisms and remarkably superior grasp of practically anything you laid your hands on was the tip that had me question you. After all, it couldn't be coincidence that an idealistically lovely female just happens to wander into my midst with such-"

A pause. In his eyes, I see the anger that he holds for me. The shock and outrage of someone who's been tricked. Someone who's been promised a dream that turns out to be a nightmare. The word that he can not say holds itself in his mouth. I can see it and it is still waiting to be said, despite this silence. It is a moment for me to defend myself against this that he has provided if I wish to do so. Yet, instead of spouting a string of heated explanations to him, I choose to sit.

I make my way to the closest piece of furniture as Garak wages his vocal attack on my ears, "Then you brought more surprises. You are not a Cardassian."

My eyes, which were cemented to the flat carpet, carry to him with blankness.

"Yes. You are not a Cardassian or a Romulan or a Bajoran. You are actually what you claimed to be. A human." I jump a little when he chuckles sarcastically, "More than that, you have family in Star Fleet. A grandmother who is a doctor for the Federation who happens to stop by my shop and strangely enough, is searching for you."

Something burns itself in my throat. I hold my hands together in a silent pose of passive prayer. Even though all that he is saying is plausible and more than likely deserved. Because I do deserve everything that is coming. His suspicion and distrust and perhaps, even his menace. But it does not stop me from being outraged by his accusations. Because I do care fo-

"That night that I entered your quarters was not just a social visit." States Garak calmly, "I was there to search your room and then to invite you out. I was absolutely sure that I would find something to tie you to some plot. Anything to show that you were not who you said you were."

Moving to the center of the room and my direct line of vision, his volumes changes with his position and rises, "You defended yourself that evening. That factor added to this suspicion I have of you. Not very well, my dear if I do say, but nonetheless. It helped shape what I had been thinking. Then as we had our dinner, I sat there examining the situation."

Indifferently, I nod for him to go on.

"Everything about you could and would later on be verified. Your friendliness was certifiably sincere. Your profession allowed you to have familiarity in your past at different locations. Then as I watched you and your grandmother at Quark's on that same night, I knew who you were."

He knows.

Still, I keep my position and hold his forceful gaze.

"You are exactly who you say you are, Erica Steele," A held breath that I wasn't aware of flows quietly from my lips when I hear his words, "Which is, in actuality, a very dangerous thing to be. Your extraordinary honesty of self could be taken advantage of. I do not trust such behavior nor do I believe that it is possible."

"But you just admitted that I am who I say I am." Finally, my voice returns to me even if it seems bruised and slow.

He smiles grimly, "Yes, but you can not expect me to truly trust such antics."

Sighing both in relief and in amazement, I decided to get to the bottom of this, "Garak, what is the point of all this? You don't wish for me to leave because you seem to consider me a friend of sorts, yet you don't trust me. You claim that I am exactly who I am claiming to be but that it can not be possible. Frankly, I don't know what all of this is for."

"Exactly, my dear. You are an enigma. An enjoyable one, true, but one all the same."

"So, although I am perfectly open and honest to you. Even if you know everything about me. You are saying that I am still deceptive in some way or another." My arms cross over each other as I stand up to this baffling discussion, "Garak, are you flirting with me?"

"Of course not," He denies in an offended manner, "Erica, although there are many compliments that I honor you with. There are also many other things to consider and those are why a relationship of that type would not be wise."

I raise a finger in protest, "Let me guess. I am too young and naïve."

"Do you not consider that it would be tiresome to have to carry on with this?"

"Garak, you are the one who felt the need to lay your thoughts out onto the floor so allow me the same."

Then I see it. The is the opportunity. This my chance to act on what I am feeling and possibly, I might be able to resolve this.

Seizing the attention that he is giving, I walk around him at a very intimate distance, "Yes, I am young but I will grow. I may be naïve in some areas of expertise but I will learn. However, you are still learning and growing as I am. You are just at a different time in your life."

"A candid observation." His lips purse in a thin line as though this is not how he was planning things to go.

"And I scare you."

"I beg your pardon, my dear?"

"I frighten the wits out of you, quaint Garak." Clicking the "k" in his name sends a visible shiver through his spine that all too easily makes me smile, "I am something that you have little experience in and I think that makes you very ill at ease. Even hostile."

Garak's spine tenses up as he prepares his words for battle but I cut him off even before his vocal cords stretch, "Do not deny it. I know that it is what you consider a weakness. Any affection towards anything can be used against you by anyone and you do not like to be vulnerable."

Those dark eyes that have mesmerized me so much in past are now somehow bedazzled by me. I must say that I am pleased by all of this. I know how "arousing" complexities can be for Cardassians and even if he is not aware of it, I am just as in sync with this as he is. I do understand his fears and hesitations.

What we are has no true form in the human world. Maybe at one time, when the lines of propriety and morality were still being largely defined by the idea of sinners and saints. I would never imply that humans have solved that dark and irresistible urge to do wrong. No, for it is only too apparent in myself. Especially, at this moment. But what I know is that most would look down upon Garak and myself.

Not because I am human and he is Cardassian. But because I am me. I am a liar and a killer. I would act upon a simple command to wreck the lives of millions. Being here has not changed that about me when, perhaps, it should have. Ideally, some form of humanity should have crept into my soul and made me into a good person. That did not happen.

Nor did it happen upon Garak. He is just as despicable in anyone else's eyes as I should be. His crimes are parallel to mine. We are the dangerous and cruel means to an end that most people will not do because of the stigma of being "evil."

However, the weak do not survive in the universe if they are not willing to do whatever is possible. That is a truth that one knows all too well. And if this were a perfect place then those that are wicked would never rise to power or experience anything of satisfaction. I should not be allowed to speak or touch him. He should never have the consent to gaze upon me.

The evil are not worthy of happiness is that not what they say?

I did not notice how close I had come to the seemingly quiet Cardassian until my hand brushed his as I passed behind him. Expecting him to immediately pull back, I leave myself there. A beat passes. One, two, then several.

He has not moved. Our flesh presses softly to one another in offered temptation. Calmly, I step around him while allowing my fingers to graze over his wrist.

Uncharacteristically, his fingers snatch upon me and pull me up to against his girth. My limbs press harshly into him as we hold together at a tantalizing length. The physical strength that I didn't estimate clenches painfully into my shoulders as the air turns tight and restrained inside me.

"Garak."

It sounds like I am pleading but whether to be released or not is unclear. Cardassian eyes peer at me. Appraising, condemning, and through it all, questioning.

That familiar reaction of a warmth in my lower abdomen heightens at the physical nearness of him. It grows as I taste his breath in the air. Sweet and warm.

"Erika."

I drop my stare to his neck. The luminous gray skin wraps so tightly around muscle, bone, and nerve. The scales that dot the skin call for my lips in their slight gray. I know that he is watching my examination of him with endless fascination. Slowly, I wet my lips then take the lower one between my teeth in a teasing motion.

Those Cardassian features remain petrified as I take my time. My palm spreads over his chest and slides up to his shoulder. A small exhale of enjoyment passes from him to me. I can imagine that the heavy cloth he wears only make my caress feel like a tiny tickle but it makes everything all the more tempting between us. Inch by inch, coffee toned hands trail towards moon-lit flesh.

"My dear, you are quite persistent. However," Garak grabs my hands just as they were skimming his low collar. "This is but a dream."

"I don't understand. What do you mean, Garak?"

His contorts in anger. The sharp clench of his jaw makes me uneasy. His voice even sounds different when he grimly speaks, "Do not use that braggart's name. Human."

No. That voice isn't new to me. I've heard it many times before but how is it coming from Garak's lips? My mind reels at the possibilities of this phenomena. There's only one action to take: resist. My arms lock up in thrashing movements. Legs aiming for vulnerability in their quick kicks. Even teeth are drawn as I fight back.

Then as swiftly I started, I realize a new horror. I can not move my limbs. His fingers drop my wrists. As their weight plummets to my side, my body follows. The ground comes up and slightly knocks the wind out of me.

Paralyzed. That is the only word that can be applied to me. Nothing can be moved. The dark carpet scratches my cheek and my saliva pools in my mouth. Swallowing both my body's liquid and the breathe of life, I watch black boots step around me. One nudges me in the ribs then with a small lift pushes me onto my back.

The light causes him to shadow over me with a smug glare.

"It is time to wake up." He stands so high up but I swear that he whispering against my ear.

Slowly, vision starts to blur. Blobs of light and color fill my sight. The sudden need to sleep overtakes me as I bid my farewell to the universe and hope that this is no more than a nightmare.

What have you done, Entek?