DS9 FanFic, "Especially the Lies," 4/4

[prelocandkanar]

 
Title:       Especially the Lies
Author:   PrelocAndKanar
Series:  DS9
Part:       4/4
Rating:   R
Codes:   G/m almost; G/f, G/B implied, AU -- I think...

Summary: Garak tells a story of his childhood

Author's Note:  Thanks to Orson Scott Card and Kate DiCamillo, whose influences can be seen here.  Also, this story contains a respectful homage to Arkady and her "Nom de Plume."

Also, thanks again to Jen Ingram for her always invaluable beta.  She sets a high standard that I don't always succeed in reaching, exhorts me to be discplined and avoid sinking into self-indulgence, and always makes me think a little harder.

Comments, constructive criticism and other feedback are very welcome!

Disclaimer:  Paramount owns all.  I own nothing.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Tain called me to his office three days later. I had not had a chance to see Pashim again, to tell him what a incredible book his “Shadow” had been. In truth, I had put off seeing him. True, the book was magnificent, but it was also intensely personal and romantic. It was a tragic story of love left unexpressed, of chances left untaken. Reading it was enough to make me realize that I couldn’t pretend any longer. Seeing him would make it real. I wasn’t sure I was ready.

Tain was standing at the window when I entered. I stood, waiting for him to acknowledge me. After several minutes, he turned around. His face was that stormy color I dreaded seeing. He had a data rod in his fist.

“What do you know of this?” he demanded.

I was puzzled. “I don’t know what you are talking about. Sir.”

“This, this,” he roared, waving the rod like a sword. He tossed it at me. Startled, I barely managed to catch it. I turned it to look at the label.

“Tales of our Times: Beyond Preloc,” I read silently, my heart sinking. “By Ital.” Nobody. I willed myself to have no reaction. This was it, my ultimate test. I could not react, I could not give anything away. It took all my skill to lift my eyes mildly and say, “So? Sir.”

He glared at me. “You don’t mean to tell me that you know nothing of this?”

“What is it? ‘Tales of our Times’? Some sort of fiction?”

He walked quickly forward and stood inches from me. We were equal in height now but he still managed to loom over me. I stood my ground as best I could, feeling again like that nine-year-old boy who first stood in this room so many years ago.

His eyes ground into mine. I held my gaze blank, and widened my eyes just ever so slightly. Perhaps, now that I think of it, I was over-playing my role. I was desperate to be away, far away.

He leaned in closer still. I could smell the kanar on his breath without stitking.

“I know all about you and your… friend,” he hissed. “I’ve said nothing up until now because I don’t care who you associate with. That is, unless that association is in direct conflict with your loyalties. Loyalty to me. Loyalty to the State. I trust you remember that these are the traits I value.”

I nodded, not daring to speak.

He turned away and seemed to get himself under control. When he spoke again, his voice was soft and measured. I was terrified, and I wondered if he knew it.

“There is nothing you want to tell me about this, you are sure?”

I shook my head, and managed to say with a voice that I hoped sounded normal: “Nothing, sir.”

“Well. Perhaps this has nothing to do with your friend.” He walked back to a small table where a glass half-filled with kanar sat. He lifted the glass to his lips.

“You may go.”

I left.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

I was desperate to find him, to warn him. I was not stupid; I had considered that I might be followed, that Tain might be using me to lead his men to Pashim, but I couldn’t think of another way. I went over all the possibilities in my mind. My mind was racing. I found it hard to analyze the situation clearly. I thought of asking the fruit-seller, but I didn’t know him and couldn’t trust him. I didn’t know any one else who knew Pashim. I didn’t know if he had any other friends. I realized that I didn’t know much about him at all. I didn’t even know how to reach his “gentlemen friends.”

Actually, I was stupid. Incredibly stupid.

Finally, I couldn’t stand doing nothing. I set off, trying to make sure I wasn’t followed. I took the most circuitous route, changing direction often, glancing into windows and other reflective surfaces. I ducked suddenly into doorways or alleys, and watched for a tail. I used every trick I had been taught. I felt sure I was alone. I was confident in my skill.

I had no idea.

I found him at last, in one of our many meeting places.   He was overjoyed to see me.

“Garak! Did you read it? What-”

I grabbed his elbow. “You’ve got to go! Now!”

He looked at me with confusion. “Where? Why?”

I stared at him.

“Don’t you know? Your book! Your damned book!”

“Oh,” he said, with a smile that made me furious. “My friend said-”

“You idiot!” I hissed. “They got a hold of it. The data-rod. They won’t let it be published.” I shook him. “They want you dead.”

“Who? What?” he stammered. “Just for a book?”

I nearly screamed. “It’s not just a book. Didn’t you tell me that? It’s-”

They appeared out of nowhere. Weapons pressed to Pashim’s elegant neck, one on either side. They had been so silent, I had heard nothing. Two of them surrounded me as well. I felt a weapon pressed to my back. Out loud, one of them said to me, “Good job.”

“No!” I screamed, as Pashim’s face echoed his confusion. “No! I didn’t know! I swear it!” But of course, I had. I had known all along.

I couldn’t look at his face as they dragged him away. I couldn’t face what I feared might be there. I can barely remember being taken back home.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Tain was waiting for me. He beckoned me into his chamber and with a gesture, invited me to sit. He had never allowed me to sit in his presence before.

I sat.

“What -” I started, but my mouth was too dry. I swallowed, then tried again. “What’s going to happen to him?”

Tain poured a glass of kanar and offered it to me. I took it and was pleased to see that my hand was not trembling. I felt like I was burrowing deep inside behind my face. I felt very far away.

He took a sip. I did the same. I thought the thick, viscous liquid would do little to help my dry throat, but surprisingly, it helped. I took another.

My question hung in the air. Listening to its echo, I realized how inane it was.

Tain spoke, and his voice had never sounded so deep or so imposing.

“There comes a time in every man’s life when he has to make a choice. A decision. Pick a path that will change his life. Change it, for better or for worse. Sometimes the choice is to live or die.”

I was falling, falling…

“Your friend made a choice. A poor one, it turns out. Now it is your turn.”

“No,” I said without thinking. “No. Not this time. I won’t do it.” I stood and faced the man who held our lives in his hand with so little concern. “I don’t care. Kill me.” I’m already dead, I thought. I died that last time. It was only Pashim who kept me alive. Without him, I’m just a corpse.

Tain stood. We faced each other. My face was not composed, I’m sure. I would guess that every bit of pain I was feeling showed clearly. I wasn’t thinking about controlling myself.

Tain said, “Your friend will die either way.”

“Fine. Do what you have to do. But I won’t do it.”

Tain sighed.

“If I do it, I will have my men torture him. He will die a slow and painful death. They are experts at this sort of thing. They will drag it out. He will wonder what they want from him, but there will be nothing he can say or do. Recanting won’t matter, even if he would, which I somehow doubt.”

He lifted his glass to his lips again, then continued.

“If it means so much to you to avoid doing this that you would have your friend suffer needlessly, then by all means, go. Leave this room and leave this house. Refuse to kill. Your soul will be spared but your friend will pay the price. Oh, wait - you have killed before. Your so-called soul is already tainted.

“Well, be that as it may. Leave here, let your friend suffer a long and painful death at the hands of strangers, and know that you can never return. Or go to him now, have your last words, and put him gently and quickly out of this life. By doing this difficult thing, and I know how difficult it is, you will be proving your ultimate loyalty and earning my greatest trust. You are, after all, very close to me. It’s your choice.”

With that, he set down his glass and left the room.

When he left, I collapsed into the chair in agony. What had I been thinking? I could never beat this man at his game. I was trapped, trapped in a cage. I could see no way out.

I should have listened to him when he warned me about love.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

I entered the room where Pashim was being held. He leapt to his feet at the sight of me. My stomach twisted at his delight.

“Garak! I knew you’d come!” he cried. He threw his arms around me and hugged me tight. I squeezed my eyes shut because I knew he couldn’t see them, and hugged him back. I breathed deeply and tried to empty my mind. Finally, we released and looked at each other. I was careful to compose my face.

Before I could say anything, he spoke.

“I want you to know that I didn’t believe for an instant that you led them to me. I know you wouldn’t do that. You must have been followed even though you didn’t realize it. I know they wanted me to think that you had betrayed me, but I know you better than that.”

The knife in my heart twisted.

“But listen,” he continued, “seriously. You didn’t tell me what you thought about ‘Shadow.”

I wanted to scream. The guards had told me I could take as much time as I liked, all night if I wanted, as long as it was done by morning. I forced myself to be calm.

“It was beautiful. It was romantic. It was tragic. I cried.” I took his face in my hands, my traitorous hands, and held it so I could look deeper into his eyes than I had ever dared. “It was about us, wasn’t it?”

He smiled. “Obviously, you dolt.”

I wanted this moment to go on forever. I drew his face close and touched my lips to his. I felt his hand at the back of my head, drawing us closer. I breathed in the scent of him as we sank deep into our kiss. My hands were wandering everywhere, stroking his hair, running down his back, coming to rest on his slender hips. Our tongues met tentatively. We broke the kiss for an instant, and I ran my teeth gently down his modest neck-ridges. I could feel him shiver. Everything felt right. Then I remembered.

Suddenly it seemed like cheating. I had to tell him.

“Pashim.” My eyes were burning with love, with lust, with agony.

“Yes, Garak?” He was nuzzling my neck. I pulled away.

“Why do you think I’m here?”

He looked at me, puzzled.

“You figured something out, of course. You bribed someone, you found a loophole. I know! You got me passage off Cardassia! How?”

I didn’t have to say anything. He saw it in my eyes. He backed away slowly.

“No. You couldn’t do anything. They’re going to lock me up, aren’t they. You’re… here to say good-bye?” he asked softly.

I had never told him about my father, about my training, about the Obsidian Order. I realized there was no way for him to know the reason I was here. And I realized there was no need for him to know. Maybe it was just an excuse, to make it easier for me. I honestly don’t know anymore. But I made my decision. It was time for one last, beautiful lie.

“Yes,” I said. “I’m here to say good-bye.” I realized that if it were done, it was best it were done quickly. I stepped closer. “Let me kiss you one last time.”

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

A few weeks later, I entered the Osidian Order Elite Cadet Corps. The training was easy. I did everything that was required of me. I never hesitated. I did whatever had to be done.

I rose quickly, Tain’s protégé. The rest of my stories I have already told you. This was the last one. Here I am, now, all these years later, an exile on the station of my people’s enemies.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

I stopped speaking. I reached out for my glass. Guls, my throat was dry. I drank the cool water, appreciating how good it tasted. I was rather afraid to be done with it, to put the glass down and finish this, one way or the other.

“And now, doctor, we come to the end of my story. I hope you found it… illuminating. Maybe it gave you a better sense of what I am. What I am capable of. The treachery. The brutality. The weakness. All of it.” I closed my eyes for an instant, then opened them wide and put brightness back in. When in doubt, go on the offensive.

“Was the tale sufficiently… thrilling for you, doctor? Is it exciting to know a ruthless killer?”

He said nothing, but he looked stunned. Suddenly I felt tired, and old. This had been a mistake.

“Perhaps you should leave now.” I turned my head away and tried to keep my voice even. “I’m sure you would like to… revisit your friendship with me in the light of these unfortunate revelations.”

I waited to hear the sound of his footsteps leaving, or his voice sounding appalled, expressing shock or horror, or worse yet, pity or a counselor’s understanding. I waited. Nothing. I turned back.

There he was, just sitting there, next to me on the couch. There was turmoil playing out behind his face. It seemed ages ago that I had started this tale. I sat, resting my hands on my knees, waiting.

His face seemed to clear. At least his eyes did; they cleared and looked at me. He put his hand over mine and squeezed it gently. He let it rest there. I realized that he was sitting very close. His hand was so warm. I breathed again; I realized I had been holding my breath.

“Shall I do it again?” he asked.

“Do what?”

“Tell you. That I forgive you.”

I shook my head. “You already did that once.”

“Do I remind you of him?” he asked, softly.

I smiled a small smile, looking at his warm, brown hand over my cool, grey one, long fingers and thick ones. His finger played with my cuff.

“A little. In the beginning. But you are your own person, doctor, and what’s more, you have grown and changed since you were that eager young officer I first met.”

There was a thoughtful look on Bashir’s face.

“You called it a story just now,” he noted. “Does that mean it’s just another one of your stories?”

My smile faded.

“My dear doctor. Are you asking me if this story is true?”

Bashir’s finger stilled. He sighed and thought hard about it. Then he decided.

“Yes. Is it true?”

“Oh, doctor. I thought we were beyond that.”

He just looked at me, waiting.

I sighed. What did he want from me?

“Perhaps the story happened differently after all,” I offered him. “Perhaps Mila, whom you met, is truly the one who gave birth to me. Maybe my father never had her killed and I grew up in their household from a baby.

“Perhaps I refused to do what Tain wanted of me that day, as regards to that young woman. Maybe I had the strength to stand up to him. Perhaps the lesson that day was that it is a bad idea to disappoint Enabran Tain. Would that suit you better?”

Bashir said nothing.

“And perhaps the young writer did not die at my hands, either.” My face gave away nothing. “Perhaps I was more clever. I was able to warn him earlier and he took off with one of his ‘gentleman friends.’ Perhaps he ended up living on Bajor, inspiring the rebellion with his impassioned writings.”

Bashir burst out in frustration, gesturing with both hands. I watched his hand fly away from mine.

“But those would change the whole essence of the story, Garak! It can’t be both. Either they died, or they didn’t. Which is it?”

I sighed again. He was sitting so close…

“I suppose the real meaning of the story is that you can’t change the past,” I managed.

Bashir smirked.

“No, that’s not it, Garak. You change the past all the time.”

“Well, maybe it’s about the futility of dwelling upon regrets that are beyond redemption.”

I paused. It was time.

“I recently marked the date of my birth. At least, the date that it was decided would be the official one. You know we Cardassians do not ‘celebrate’ these dates as do you humans, but such occasions lend themselves to contemplation. I was in a melancholy mood and reflecting on my many regrets. Most of them are for things long past, long beyond changing or mending. Dwelling on things that cannot be undone is a waste of time.

“But there is one regret, I realized, that is not beyond redemption.”

I raised my eyes again.

“I regret that I was never brave enough to take that step with you, the way Pashim was brave enough to try to take it with me.”

There. I glanced at his face. His gaze did not falter. He did not appear surprised. He moved even closer to me and took my hand.

“What of Tain’s lesson? About the dangers of… letting yourself feel deeply?” he asked.

I took a deep breath.

“Tain is dead.” I turned to Bashir. “It’s time for me to make my own decisions, not based on his ideas, or what’s good for Cardassia, or even what helps me maintain my aura as a deadly and mysterious spy.”

I looked at our hands together, then back up at Bashir. His eyes…

“The secrets and the stories… they are all unimportant, in the end. The truth is, I am just another man. Just as I told you when we first met.”

He smiled.

“Plain and simple Garak.”

He reached for me then. And everything else just fell away.

^^^^^^^^ end ^^^^^^^