Three hours after their exchange, Bashir found himself sitting up far enough to grab his datapadd again; calling the lights back onto minimum. He wanted to doze the time away, it would certainly make it more tolerable.
Yet, despite the warmth that saturated their den of blankets, he could not sleep anymore. His body balked at the idea of resting any longer.
So, he read. He read one of the Cardassian novels that Garak had brought along. He hated Cardassian literature; it was the most boring things he'd ever read; but it was something new and it would keep him occupied.
He read all twenty eight chapters. Every one of those 75,000 words.
He paused occasionally, to check on Garak. The Cardassian slept on, though sometimes his fingers would twitch against Bashir's leg and he would give little sounds of distress in his sleep.
It scared Bashir. Like he'd been scared when he'd realised Garak was dying from his neural implant.
He got up, blasted himself under the sonic shower without undressing, and drank some more of the water.
Then he decided the water level was low and they needed more snow.
Huddled in his jacket, he braved the chill of the outer room. It was eerie without the hum of the engines, he found himself glancing around the darkened room as though waiting to see something lurking in the shadows.
He hurried to the outside exit and slapped his hand over the door control. It opened slowly, infinitely too slowly.
The blast of cold was far worse than anything Bashir had expected. He was almost knocked backwards by it, but he forced himself onwards until he could bend down and scoop more snow into the pot.
Desperate, his hand slapped the control again. The door closed and suddenly the room felt like an oven; at least compared to what lay outside.
Trembling, Bashir made it back to the bunk. He set aside the pot, near the headboard but on the floor, where the cold wouldn't get to them as it melted.
With a little thought, he abandoned his jacket to dry. Spreading it over a chair, he eased back into the bunk, hissing as the warmth hit him again.
In those few short minutes, he'd forgotten what warmth felt like.
He looked under the blankets to see Garak. The Cardassian shied away from him, curling up into a foetal ball away from Bashir.
Gods, he must be freezing to touch. Of course Garak didn't want to be near him, he'd leech precious warmth from the reptilian alien.
He cuddled in the bunk as far from Garak as he could; until his body reached bed temperature at any rate. He could feel his friend start shivering again, so he pulled the electrical blanket away from himself and tucked it closer to his companion.
He lay there, desperate for sleep to claim him, yet desperate to stay awake and make sure nothing happened while he was asleep.
He'd been awake for seventeen hours. He'd certainly lasted longer when he'd been forced to, but it felt like the cold was sapping away his will to stay awake, draining his life.
One hundred and twenty hours, twenty two minutes.
He rolled over and stared at the door. Rolled onto his back and looked at the darkened ceiling.
"Doctor?"
"I'm sorry, Garak. I didn't mean to wake you."
"Hm." The Cardassian rolled over, even in the darkness, his eyes seemed almost luminescent enough to be seen. "You cannot sleep."
"I don't want to sleep." He admitted quietly. "We've been here two days, Garak. They know we're missing, right?"
"Almost certainly." Garak sat up and called up the lights to minimum illumination. "What is wrong, doctor?"
What wasn't wrong? "I... I'm just full of nervous tension." He rubbed his hands together and blinked. The temptation to leave his eyes shut and go to sleep was powerful. "I don't want to sleep. I need to check on you, you won't tell me if something's wrong, so I need to check."
Garak blinked slowly and crawled over Bashir, his movements slow but determined, like a waking crocodile.
"Garak?"
"I'm simply going to retrieve some nutrients for your addled mind, since you saw fit to abandon your outer garments." He stood up and shivered, but padded out silently, disappearing around the corner.
"I, what?" He looked at his coat and shook his head. "If you were hungry you could have just said! You didn't have to climb over me."
The Cardassian reappeared with a tray of something hot and a smile. "But doctor, what fun would that have been compared to having a small climbing expedition?"
Bashir took the tray while Garak clambered back over him and under the blankets again, laying it down once both of them were settled again. "It would have been easier."
"Easier is not always more productive."
"You would have gotten exactly the same out of it, either way," Bashir argued.
"Would I?" Garak smiled again and took a plate.
Bashir watched for a long moments, or maybe they were long ones distorted by weariness, it was hard for him to say. He slowly started eating the food, not tasting anything but heat.
He blinked and felt a hand on his face. He opened his eyes sharply, saw Garak's hand on his cheek and the other on his chest. "What...?"
"Shh." The fork was prised from his fingers and he was leant back. He stayed there, blinked again as Garak leant over him to lower the tray to the floor.
He opened his eyes at the end of the blink and found that he was being lowered into the bed. He fought to keep his eyes open and saw Garak smile at him.
"Go to sleep, Julian."
Arms drew him close to a warm body and he found there was no good reason to keep denying himself some rest.
"Thank you, Garak."
"Just go to sleep."
He listened to a steady beat and was lulled to sleep, and realised he still hadn't explained the grumpy dragon reference.
0
Slowly, the world came into focus.
Bashir opened his eyes and looked about, trying to work out what had woken him up.
He shifted and realised he was being held still, encased in heat.
Garak was still holding him. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to work himself free.
"Doctor?" The tone was soft, deceptively so.
"I'm awake, Garak."
"Ah. I wasn't sure. You've been stirring on and off for nearly an hour." In the darkness, a hand came up and pushed his hair from his forehead. "Are you well?"
"I think so. Just a bit warm."
Immediately, the arms around him moved away, and whilst the temperature dropped to almost bearable, he didn't feel more comfortable for the space. "How long was I asleep?"
"Six hours."
One hundred and fourteen hours. Bashir shivered slightly.
"Are you cold now? Are you sure you are not sick?"
"No, I'm just... chill down my spine, as the saying goes." He lay on his back. "Have you been awake all the time?"
"Mostly." There was a yawn. "At first I was not tired, then I noticed you seemed warm. I was going to remove myself from your presence in the hopes it was just my; to your body; excessive heat that was bringing up your temperature, but..." The soft voice trailed off.
"But?" Bashir prompted.
"You didn't want me to move. You... whimpered, when I moved away, and reached out for me. So I stayed. I turned down the electrical blanket instead."
So it was the heat that had woken him up. Overheating, body wakes itself to react... "Did you say I whimpered?"
"I suppose that would be the word. It was this small animal noise, in the back of your throat." Garak sounded deadly serious, no sound of mocking in his voice. "It reminded me of a pup missing its mother."
Bashir wasn't sure what was stranger about what just happened. The odd, slow; almost nostalgic; way that Garak said that or the total lack of teasing that came with it.
"Garak?"
"No one... hm." The Cardassian yawned again the darkness. "Tell me about the grumpy dragon, doctor."
"No one what, Garak?" Bashir caught one hand blindly as he felt it move past his face. "No one what?"
"Tell me about the dragon." Garak persisted.
"Oh, fine, be that way. Western dragons were often believed to spend their lives slumbering away of hoards of treasure, usually plundered from caravans, merchants, castles and the such. I though, at the time, that you reminded me of a dragon sleeping on its hoard. Every time I moved you grabbed me to stop me doing it. Like you were trying to stop your gold from running away. It was amusing at the time."
There was a long silence. Bashir briefly wondered if Garak had gone to sleep in the intervening time. He gently released the hand he held.
"Do I remind you of a dragon, doctor?"
Bashir blinked. "Seriously? In a way, I suppose. You have the scales, and you get grumpy when you don't get your own way. I suspect you'd devour virgins if you thought you could get away with it."
"You're teasing me." He sounded sleepily reproachful.
"Just a little." Bashir grinned to himself and folded his arms behind his head. "Only about the virgins, though. I guess, in some ways you remind me of the Eastern dragons. You have this great wisdom and you're fond of cryptic riddles. Harsh sometimes, but usually with reason. You do strange things and guard yourself almost fanatically, but sometimes... you don't seem to get the world you live in now. Like you belong on another plane of existence..." Bashir blinked and tilted his head. "I feel like you're completely beyond my comprehension, but I don't mind, so long as its you I don't understand."
There was a stunned silence on both their behalf.
"Julian?"
He turned to look, surprised at the use of his first name by itself. "Yes?"
"Thank you."
"Why?" He rolled onto his side, straining to hear the half whispered words.
"I... because, Julian. Just because." Garak shifted and buried under the covers again. "I don't want to talk about it."
"All right."
"Do you know what I miss about Cardassia?"
Bashir blinked. This was unexpected. "No. What?"
"It's not my people. I do miss other Cardassians but... I suppose I've grown accustomed to other species. I don't miss the architecture, obviously. Ter... Deep Space Nine is still a Cardassian station in design. I miss the gardens. I miss the gardens of the government buildings. You have never seen the like, doctor. Great sprawling gardens, stone and sculpted glass amongst the vines and shrubs that best survive Cardassian climate."
Bashir shifted closer. "What was your favourite part of the gardens?"
"Ah. The gardens... they were almost maze like. The greatest sculptures were in the centre, designs and mosaics sprawling in perfect patterns, so often overlooked by the careless."
"But that's not your favourite place, is it?"
"No." Garak sounded amused. "I preferred somewhere quiet. Somewhere I could simply be. The centre was crowded, enclosed..."
Bashir's eyes shot open. "Garak?"
"I'm... I'm fine." His breathing was short and fast.
"Don't think about it, Garak." He grabbed one hand, held it to his chest. "Tell me about your favourite part. Where you liked."
"The abandoned areas. Out back. Large rolling hills, as far as the eye can see. Sparse vegetation, just hill after hill and clear skies overhead." His breathing troubles were easing off. "I always walked until my legs burnt, then just sat and watched. A completely frivolous pastime, but one I enjoyed indulging in, I must admit. There was nothing as refreshing as being able to simply look and see nothing but wide, open spaces... absolute... open."
Bashir rubbed the hand he held soothingly. "Is that why you like space?"
"I suppose so. Space in and of itself is the perfection of the open area, but unfortunately we are not so well equipped to revel in it." He sounded a little bitter... maybe reproachful. "We must settle for star ships to live in space; the pinnacle of enclosed spaces is the only way to experience the perfection of nothing."
"Garak?"
"Doctor, I can't take this shuttle. This room. It feels like the walls are determined to press me into the floor." His voice sounded reasonable, analytical. "I know I'm in no danger; no immediate danger; from the enclosed space, but I still cannot take it. We have been here little over two days, and I have had enough."
Bashir gritted his jaw. He didn't know why Garak was so scared of small spaces; simply that he was. Garak never discussed it.
"Doctor. I can't breathe."
Bashir decided. Calling for lights, he scrambled from the bunk and grabbed the emergency medkit, pulling the tranquilliser from it and prepping the hypo spray. "I'm sorry, Garak, it's the best I can do for now."
He pushed it under the Cardassian's jaw and released a dose. Almost immediately, his friend started to relax, his eyes glazing slightly.
"Better?"
"Somewhat." Garak's hand curled around his again, his eyes slumping shut. "I can't..."
"I know. Your natural response to the cold and the tranquilliser will put you to sleep. You'll feel better when you wake up."
"Ju..." His eyes closed and flicked open again.
"I'll be here when you wake up. You watched over me when I was asleep, I'll do the same." He smiled slightly, tried to seem reassuring.
"Yes." Garak agreed.
Agreeing with what, Julian wasn't sure.
0
With one hundred and nine hours and twelve minutes to go; just shy of three days after they crashed here; Bashir was starting to feel a bit claustrophobic as well. He was generally quite able to cope with cramped and close quarters, but the shuttle felt too small when all he had to do was sit and wait; knowing that it wasn't actually going anywhere.
He'd spent a lot of time thinking. He hoped; against hope it felt; that the station had realised they were missing and had search teams out looking for them by now. At the very least he was hoping that there was a shuttle with a two man team searching.
He'd checked the medical supplies. There were a few more doses of the mild tranquilliser, but he didn't want to have to apply anything stronger to the already sleepy Cardassian. Hopefully, they could stave off his claustrophobia naturally. Bashir was certain that it was a panic reaction much like his own, Garak had been in shuttles many times and never had any real problems, therefore it was a reaction to the situation, not the space itself.
It was getting difficult to sit here and do nothing. Even with the comforting weight and warmth of his friend beside him, Bashir felt like he was losing his mind. Worrying over Garak, listening to his stories when he was awake and fretting about when he'd wake up when he wasn't; it was all that was keeping him from going out into the storm and laying down out there, just to breathe fresh air.
If anything happened to Garak...
He shivered and grabbed one of his friend's hands, holding it close to his chest. It was warm, and the strong fingers curled around Bashir's when his hand was picked up.
He'd never forgive himself if he let his friend die. Never.
One hundred and nine hours exactly.
He called the lights up to minimum; startled when Garak hissed through his teeth at the sudden light. "You're awake?"
"Yes, doctor. I'm awake." His eyes were closed, but he used his free hand to rub his eyes. "I'm sorry for that little display before."
"You can't help it, Garak." Bashir sighed slightly. "I just want to get off this, this ice cube of a planet. I want to hear engines under my feet and see the wormhole flashing when ships come back and forth."
"You will, doctor." Garak patted the hand he held.
"Garak... I scanned you while you were asleep. I'm sorry, but your breathing fell to next to nothing. I was worried."
"Ah."
Bashir watched for a few moments. "You said you'd tell me when you got sick. You promised me, Garak."
"No, I promised not allow any illness go unmentioned." The Cardassian smiled sadly. "I am not ill, doctor. No medicine will help me. I did not want to distress you."
"Garak, you're suffering from cold related stresses. That tranquilliser could have killed you. If I'd picked up the slightly stronger one, your organs would have shut down. You would have been killed by it." He took a deep breath, forcing himself calm. "I could have killed you."
"Nonsense. I refuse to die at anyone's hand but my own." Garak smirked. "Anyway, you didn't use the other drug, so it doesn't matter." He looked sidelong at the doctor and then back to the ceiling. "You can't do anything abut it, doctor."
"You could have not aggravated it by getting up to get food." Bashir persisted.
"Doctor, the team will get here or they will not. A small sojourn to the outer rooms was hardly going to turn the tide in that regard. But you must accept that it has become a possible outcome, doctor."
"Don't, Garak." He didn't want to hear it.
"Doctor..." He sighed and shook his head. "You're right. I'm being fatalistic. There is a good chance that we may be rescued before we run into difficulties."
"One hundred and eight hours, forty minutes."
Garak frowned.
"Before we 'run into difficulties'; as you put it." Bashir shifted restlessly. "We don't even know if they're looking for us!" He got up, pulled on his jacket and started to pace. "We need that communication relay up and running again."
Garak must have read his intentions. "Doctor, no. You'll freeze, and I am not qualified to nurse you through hypothermia. We will live without the relay, but I will not..." He sat up and grabbed Bashir's arm as he passed by. "Doctor, I will not survive alone. You know that. You must not go out there."
Bashir sat down on the edge of the bunk. "I know. I won't. I just hate it in here. I hate feeling... trapped."
Trapped, like being in the Dominion prison. Garak reached up and gently patted his upper arm, rubbing it soothingly. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be." He smiled ruefully. "I just need something to do, keep myself from worrying over details."
"Like keeping a count down?"
"I am not..." Bashir hung his head. "Yeah, maybe. I can't help it, my mind keeps track, even when the rest of my mind is thinking on something else." He shrugged. "I can't let go of it. Every minute passes and I can't help but feel... a little more stressed. I just wish we could signal, or receive, or anything!"
"Doctor, stop it." Garak pulled him up against his chest, leaning back. Bashir leant his head back onto one broad shoulder, holding the arms that encircled his torso.
"Stop fretting, doctor. Someone will find us. If it our side, all the better. If it is not, we will still be off this planet and that means we have a chance for escape back to Deep Space Nine." One hand moved to gently stroke Bashir's eyebrow, soothing out the tension around his eyes the the broad thumb swept from between his eyes around and across his cheek bone before starting again.
He'd seen a Bajoran mother with her adopted Cardassian child doing the same thing when the little girl had been upset. The sentiment; as much as the action itself; was soothing.
Garak shifted long enough to get a glass of the water and sip it, Bashir kept his eyes closed, his body somewhat relaxed.
He felt the cup at his lips, obediently drank what was left. The cup was set aside and both hands gently worked the tension from around his eyes and temples.
"You're such a fragile looking creature, doctor." Garak's voice was soft in Bashir's ear. "All this unadorned skin, just long lengths, so uncomplicated, so simple. So... unprotected."
He felt himself sinking into darkness. He was getting tired, weakening. "I feel awful."
"It must be the stress. You didn't eat earlier; maybe it's that." Garak gently stroked his hair for a few moments. "You need to rest, Julian. You need to look after yourself for when the rescue team comes. Undoubtedly they will throw you straight back into work."
He smiled slightly. "Probably."
"So you need to look after yourself now." He could hear the smile. "Sleep well, Julian."
He tried to respond, but he was slipping deeper. He felt soft, dry lips press against his temple as he was being rocked, tumbling helplessly into darkness.
He knew. Garak had drugged him.
0
He struggled back to consciousness sometime later, disorientated and confused. The world was blurred and he had an awful thick feeling in his mouth.
His hand tightened convulsively, and he felt that he had a data padd clutched in his fingers. Driven by habit, he raised his hand and peered at the writing.
'Dearest Julian,
I am most terribly sorry about earlier, but I had to ensure that there was no chance of you waking up while I was busy. I do hope that you understand.
I have been thinking a lot, Julian. It is all I am able to do under the circumstances. You keep your morbid tally, reminding yourself constantly of how long until we are in dire circumstances, but you overlook the obvious.
The energy will last longer. Provided that only one of us is alive to need it.
It is the outcome you would not let me speak. My body is slowly dying, a most uncomfortable feeling. Unless the team were to arrive in a day or two, I would most likely be too far gone to be the same again. My mind is also cracking bit by bit, unable to take the strain of these walls, pressing ever closer. I know that you are driving yourself closer and closer to breakdown as you worry whether or not we will be found before I become too weak.
However, I found another solution. I am dead either way, and I have decided to do something "stupidly heroic" on my way out. I told you, Julian, I will die by no one's hand, bar my own.
I am going outside, to repair the communication relay. If I am successful, the shuttle will begin broadcasting an automated emergency distress beacon upon activation, taking the place of the portable one damaged in the crash.
The supplies will last you longer this way. I do not mind dying as much, knowing that my death will mean that you have a better chance of survival.
I know you're about to 'throw a fit', Julian, but don't bother. I'm going to destroy the door panel on my out, so that you can't come out looking for me.
Either way, I will not be coming back. I am sorry about that, but it is the only way. Without the emergency beacon, we never had any hope of being found. I can't let you die like that, not when I could do the 'decent' thing just once and save you.
I hope you hold your final memories of me close, dear doctor.
Love, Elim Garak.'
The padd dropped to the floor, already forgotten. Bashir leapt to his feet; hit the deck as his legs collapsed under his weight and scrambled back up again; forcing them onwards.
He ran to the outer room. The damage was immediately visible, it looked like he had taken a wrench to the delicate circuitry.
He scrambled back to the bunks. The communication panel Garak had rigged was flashing steadily, a small red light signalling that the communication array was indeed active.
He activated the computer. "Computer, locate Elim Garak."
As the computer spoke, his eyes narrowed in the small note and the pin. "Elim Garak is in the bunk area."
'I've already thought of that, Julian,' the note read, the communicator pin neatly set on top of it.
Grim determination came over Bashir. "Computer, transport me to the communication array."
The computer beeped and he felt his body disintegrate under the transporter beam.
The cold hit him even before he had fully materialised. It had been bad in the doorway; here, unprotected and caught in the stronger winds, it was intolerable.
His looked past the ripped up panel and saw the black boots showing from behind it. "Elim!"
The pushed him easily, until he skidded back onto his bruised knees. The Cardassians face was deathly pale, his eyelids black and the delicate ridges of his face heading the same way. Bashir grabbed him and prayed to a God he had never believed in that he wasn't too late.
"Computer, two to transport to bunk area."
They disappeared back into the ship.
to be concluded...