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Calculated Risks, Part One (DS9)
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
You know the routine. If you're offended by sexual content, hetero or
homo, do NOT read on.
Paramount owns the characters. But I'm the one who loves them.
CALCULATED RISK
"You're in love with him."
The Trill didn't intend it to be a question--merely a
statement of fact. Garak never even twitched a brow ridge. He
simply continued to run the sizing scanner down the back of her
dress. Jadzia Dax stood, arms raised, perched very still on the
dais in Garak's clothier shop. She was draped in cream-colored
gauze, which hung off the shoulder, and hugged the curves of her
figure, stopping just above the knee.
"Really Lieutenant, I don't know why you went with this
dress," Garak said in mock admonishment. "So many adjustments to
be made. And I'm not sure the color is all that flattering." He
successfully ignored her statement.
"Well I like it. I like the color. I like the dress. Just
fix it . . . and you're evading the subject!" Dax was not to be
put off.
"And what subject is that, madam?" Garak could parry with
the best of them.
Dax shifted to look over her shoulder at the tailor. "You
know . . ." she started. Garak shot her a disgusted look.
"Lieutenant, if you don't stop wiggling around, we'll be
here all afternoon! And I, for one, have other plans."
The Trill turned back with a "hrummph", and stared straight
out in front of her. With a sigh, she made another attempt.
"You know perfectly well I'm talking about you and Julian."
"Ah, the good doctor." Garak paused to punch in the
measurements on his data padd. He resumed scanning the hem of
the dress, moving around to crouch in front of her knees. He
looked slowly up Jadzia's shapely form, to meet her gaze with a
mischievous smile. "Now, what was the question?"
Dax glared back at him in frustration. "I *said*, I think
you're in love with Julian!" She stopped Garak's denial before
it formed on his lips. "And don't say you're *not*, because
I know better."
Garak stood up straight, and met her scrutiny with nary a
flinch. "I have everything I need, Lieutenant." Dax furrowed
her brow, quizzically. Garak nodded toward the dressing room.
"You can get dressed now. I have all the measurements necessary
to commence alterations."
Dax lowered her arms, and smiled almost smugly at the
tailor. She stepped off the dais to stand head to head with him.
She was, after all, as tall as he. "Garak . . ." she started,
accusingly. The Cardassian broke in with a strangled laugh.
"My good woman, how do you expect me to answer such a
ridiculous statement?" He turned abruptly, and walked over to
his desk. Garak felt the Trill's eyes boring into the back of
his head. He threw down the one padd on the desk top, and picked
up another. He sought to give the appearance of nonchalance by
skimming an inventory list he had already memorized. Dax wasn't
fooled by the pretense.
"I see the way you look at him, the way you sit a little too
close together when you're dining at the replimat, or at
Quark's." She paused, and said a little more softly, "And I know
what I saw when I walked in here this afternoon."
Garak's attention drifted, and his sight focused not on the
inventory list in his hand, but on a memory just an hour old. Of
a brief and, of late, rare visit by Julian Bashir. The doctor
had been spending much of his free time the last couple of weeks
with a young Bajoran woman. A shuttle pilot who ran medical
supplies and other necessities from Bajor to DS9. With a break
in her schedule, the woman had taken up temporary residence on
the station to spend time with the handsome, young doctor. Garak
would see them walking hand in hand along the promenade, or
huddled together in intimate conversation at Quark's, or at the
replimat. And though security had assigned the woman quarters,
everyone knew her nights were spent elsewhere.
As such, Garak had only quick snatches of conversation with
Julian in the hallways, and one scheduled and promised lunch
meeting. And though Garak missed the doctor, he had no claim to
his company, and never questioned those times when Julian's
attention lay elsewhere. After all, though Julian was Garak's
only real friend, the doctor, on the other hand, had other
friends--and other interests.
But today Julian had stopped in, "just to say hi", and Garak
ceased whatever mindless task he was engaged in to take advantage
of the welcome respite. They talked of nothing in particular--
books each had loaned the other recently, the arrival of Betazoid
scientists to the station seeking information on the Gamma
Quadrant. The conversation wasn't important; but the nearness--
the being together, however briefly--was fundamental.
When the encounter drew to an end, and the doctor had to be
going, Garak stalled his exit by offering a bribe. He pulled out
a box of miniature K'etarian chocolate puffs he'd just purchased
from a Boslic trader. Julian smiled, and shook his head.
"Garak, you do know my weaknesses." Though the doctor had
meant his fondness for sweets, especially chocolate, the words
held a broader interpretation for both men. They held each
other's eyes a little longer than necessary. The Cardassian
broke the gaze by taking a chocolate from the box and offering it
to Julian.
"You must try these, Doctor. The large K'etarian chocolate
puff contains 17 different varieties of chocolate. But these
miniatures are potent enough, made with at least 8."
"Ooooh, I really shouldn't," Julian started, looking
intently at the tasty confection offered him. "You know I have a
terrible sweet tooth," he said, already reaching for the candy.
"If I don't watch it, I'd eat like a 10-year-old." He laughed
lightly. "And what kind of example would that set for my
patients?" Julian popped the puff into his mouth, then rolled
his eyes and sighed with delight at the wonderful, sugary
sensation. "Mmmmmmmm . . . oh, that's incredible," he cooed.
Garak smiled fondly at the young man. He enjoyed watching
him take such pleasure in even the smallest of life's
experiences. He started to hand him another. Julian waved him
off and said, "Please, no, Garak. I couldn't. Give me half a
chance and I'll eat that whole box in one sitting."
"Really, Doctor, you can't be worried about your weight--or
lack of it, I should say," Garak teased him. Julian raised an
eyebrow, and looked at the Cardassian in mock sternness. Garak
brought the chocolate up to Julian's lips, taunting. Instead of
reaching up to grab the candy from his hand, Julian caught him
unawares by leaning in to take it in his mouth, slowly wrapping
his lips over Garak's fingers. The tailor knew he should pull
his hand back, but was mesmerized instead by the feeling of the
puff dissolving on Julian's soft tongue. The doctor closed his
eyes and sucked gently on the tips of Garak's fingers. The
Cardassian nearly moaned as he felt a warmth radiating through
his body.
And that's when the Trill walked in.
Julian pulled back, and laughed nervously as he wiped his
lips with his fingers. Garak dropped his hand, and avoided her
glare in his direction.
"K'etarian puff, Lieutenant?" He shoved the box at her.
"No," she said to him, curtly. "No, thank you," emphasizing
each syllable.
Julian excused himself, and quickly left the shop without a
glance back.
And now here he was, alone with the lovely Lieutenant Dax,
and her loathsome questions.
"I have no idea what you're talking about, Lieutenant."
Garak had no patience for her meddling today. "Don't you have to
go back on duty?" He kept his back to her, and continued to
stare blankly at the padd in his hand.
Dax paused for a moment before turning to go into the
changing room. When he heard her move away, Garak thought that
was the end of it. Then she said, "I know about the night you
spent with Julian."
Taken completely by surprise, Garak whirled around. But Dax
had already gone into the dressing room to change. With her out
of sight, the Cardassian had time to compose himself and to
ponder whether or not he was simply being baited. Dax took
little time to change, and emerged within minutes dressed and
already wrapping her long hair back into the coiffed ponytail she
always wore. With one look at her stony expression, Garak knew
she was telling the truth.
Dax placed her hands on her hips and said, "That's right.
He told me everything."
"I see," was all Garak could trust himself to say at this
point.
Dax immediately relaxed her adversarial stance. She dropped
her hands and clasped them behind her back. She moved in a
little closer and said, "I don't want to see Julian get hurt."
"I see," he said again.
"Really?" she countered. "I'm not so sure you do."
Garak turned away again, and walked around to stand behind
his desk. With that simple piece of furniture acting as a
barrier between himself and the Trill, Garak felt confident again
to speak. "On the contrary, I understand that you think I took
advantage of our young friend." He paused for effect, placing
both hands on the desk and leaning forward. "Are you accusing me
of forcing myself on the doctor?"
Dax smiled coldly. She mimicked Garak's position by placing
her own hands on the desk, and leaning in toward the tailor.
"Noooo," she started. "Not in the way you mean. But," she
said emphatically, "I do think you took advantage of a
situation . . . of Julian's vulnerability, and naivety."
The two were practically nose to nose. "The doctor's a big
boy, Lieutenant. He makes his own decisions," Garak shot back.
"I know that. But sometimes he makes the *wrong*
decisions." The *quid pro quo* continued, with neither party
backing down.
"We all make *wrong* decisions, Lieutenant Dax." He
practically spat her name out. "For instance, your decision here
to confront me about a matter which is none of your business."
It was Garak's turn to be smug. He smiled and said, "I think
you're jealous."
Dax stood upright. "Jealous?! Jealous of what--of *you*?"
Garak knew he had hit a nerve. The hand played out in his
favor. He straightened up and walked back around the desk to
stand face to face with her. "Of me . . . of the lovely young
Bajoran lady our friend is currently involved with . . ."
Dax started to interrupt, "Julian and I are just . . ."
"Just friends." Garak finished for her. "And that was your
choice. But you can't honestly tell me you don't miss the way he
used to pursue you. You can't tell me you weren't flattered, or
tempted even a little--and I'm not referring to that slug inside
you. I'm talking about *you*--Jadzia." When she didn't say
anything, Garak pushed on. "He doesn't need you anymore--if he
ever did." He meant to bruise her, if he could.
Without batting a eyelash, Dax said, "You're right, Garak."
He hadn't expected her to admit it. "Maybe I am a little
jealous," she continued. "After all, I do love Julian. He's a
dear, sweet man--and a good friend. He's been there for me, more
than once. I can't help but feel affection for him--some
attraction. Maybe he doesn't *need* me--but he does desire my
friendship. And it's because of that friendship that he confided
to me about the night you spent together. About his getting
drunk, about the bar fight and how you helped him out--and about
what happened after that."
Garak couldn't help but feel a little betrayed. His
relationship with Julian was unique in that it was the only
friendship he had on the station. What they discussed in private
he thought stayed between them--at least those conversations he
didn't intend for the doctor to pass along. Garak had a way of
letting Julian know what information he wanted spread around, and
what he didn't. And certainly the night they spent together fell
under that second category. Garak was concerned for Julian's
reputation--for both their reputations. And now to find out he
had told the Trill everything. He didn't think it possible, but
he was hurt.
His demeanor must have given away his momentary maudlin,
for Dax seemed to understand what he was feeling. "Garak, you've
got to understand how confused Julian was after that." Her voice
softened, and she laid a hand on his arm. "He needed to talk to
someone." Dax tried to lighten the tone by speaking almost
conspiratorially to the Cardassian. "Humans are so unsure of
themselves, in many ways--in matters of sexuality in particular.
Especially young humans." She smiled wistfully. "And Julian is
so young. I adore him for it." Dax looked straight into Garak's
face. "And I can see now, so do you." She removed her hand from
his arm. "Maybe I was wrong to bring this up."
"Why did you?" he asked.
Dax resumed her cool exterior, hands clasped once again at
the small of her back. "As I said, I don't want to see Julian
get hurt." She paused, then continued. "Or you, for that
matter."
Garak laughed bitterly. "Do you really expect me to believe
that you're concerned for my welfare?"
"I'll let you in on a secret, Garak," she started. "In a
way, Julian still needs you. But that's only temporary.
Julian's still growing. He's exploring his hopes, desires, and
dreams--and running away from nightmares. What you have to offer
him is an adventure. But it's nothing that would satisfy him
permanently."
"And you think that I would be so satisfied . . ." Garak's
train of thought was diverted by a pulsing blue light on his
computer console.
"Frankly I don't know what you want. But whatever it is, I
don't want it to interfere with what's best for Julian." Dax
noted the Cardassian's distraction, and followed his gaze to the
console. "What's that?"
"Hmmm?" Garak was quickly brought out of his reverie by the
lieutenant's immediate curiosity. "Ahh, it's nothing. Just a
communiqu? coming through about a shipment I'm expecting." He
slipped an arm through hers, and started to usher Dax to the
door. "Now Lieutenant, if there was nothing else we had to
discuss, I really have a lot of work to do, and I'm sure you must
be needed back in Ops."
"Now wait a minute, Garak, you haven't answered . . ."
Garak stopped her at the door.
"Yes Lieutenant Dax, I've heard everything you've
said . . ."
"Bu . . ." He cut her off abruptly.
"And I will take into account what we discussed. I
appreciate your concern. I really do. Now if you'll excuse me."
And with that, he practically pushed her out the door of his
shop.
The Trill's suspicious nature immediately kicked in, but at
that moment Commander Sisko paged her to the ready room, and she
had no choice but to ignore the present situation--for now.
Garak watched the lieutenant walk down to the turbolift,
shooting him one last look over her shoulder. He then locked the
door to his shop, and walked warily over to the desk. For a
moment he simply watched the tiny beacon, the silver-blue glow
casting a eerie pallor on his face. Garak sighed, and began to
input the appropriate code, thinking to himself this couldn't
have come at a worse time.
Alone in his quarters a few days later, having drunk one too
many kanaars and touched very little of his supper, Garak had
time to consider what Dax had said. She told him he was in love
with Julian. Garak chuckled to himself. The Trill only guessed
half the truth. In reality, he was obsessed with the young
doctor. He gulped down the remaining brown liquid, then slammed
the empty glass on the table top. Garak stood and walked over to
the portal. He stared out at the black space, dotted with
pinpoint lights. Garak thought he had memorized every star in
the system, standing here, looking out this portal day after 26-
hour-day. Three years in this room. He turned to survey his
interior surroundings. His one-room habitat. One room, and a
bath. Three years. He'd been a *guest* on the station for four;
but when the Star Fleet compliment took over DS9, adjustments
were quickly made to accommodate those personnel. Garak was
moved to this room at that time. Families and officers were
given the larger quarters. Julian's quarters had a living area
and an adjoining bedroom. Julian's bedroom. Garak fantasized
about being in that room every night--being in Julian's bedroom,
in Julian's bed.
Obsession.
Nothing else could explain his actions just a week prior.
Late in the evening, not wanting to face a long and lonely night
sitting in Quark's bar, Garak found himself in the corridor that
housed Julian's quarters. He didn't know why--his own quarters
were a deck below, on the opposite side of the habitat ring. But
sometimes he would stroll these hallways, on the off chance of
meeting up with the doctor. Old habits. When he rounded the
corner, he saw a young couple gliding slowly up ahead, brushing
against each other as they walked. Even from the back, Garak
didn't need the telltale blue and black uniform to recognize that
the young man was Julian. Julian and his lady friend. There
were no other residents in the hallway. Garak slipped back
around the corner, intending to return the way he came. But
something nagged at him to stay where he stood. He leaned around
just far enough to be able to see up the hall. Julian and his
lady had stopped outside the door to his quarters. He held her
in his arms, and they kissed lazily, without urgency. Julian
pressed against her, gently backing her up against the wall.
Garak heard her giggling, low and throaty. They spoke in hushed
tones, and he couldn't make out what they were saying. But he
didn't need to hear the words to understand they were engaged in
a manner of dangerous foreplay. Illicit in that it took place
where anyone could appear at anytime and see what they were
doing. Julian licked the ridges of her nose with the tip of his
tongue. She closed her eyes, and arched her neck back allowing
him to trail feather-soft kisses from her cheeks and chin, down
to her breasts. He ran his hands up her sides, stopping to trace
circles around her nipples, pointed and firm against the thin
material of her bodice. She, in turn, played with the curls at
the nape of his neck with one hand; and with the other lightly
stroked the bulge at his groin, pushing against the front of his
jumpsuit. Julian cupped one breast and leaned in to suck the
nipple through the material. The woman moaned, and Garak was
sure someone else would hear. But the man and the woman were so
caught up in each other, they would never have noticed an
audience. Quickly Julian dropped his hand and reached under her
dress, and between her legs. She gasped, and pulled him in
closer, digging her fingers into his soft, firm backside. They
were kissing again, hungrily now. The woman began to pulse her
hips against his hand, still hidden under the dress. Julian
ground himself against her, devouring her mouth with his own.
Her movements soon developed a frantic rhythm, and her moans grew
louder, even against his soft mouth covering hers. Suddenly she
went rigid against the wall. Her mouth opened, and she cried
out. He brushed his lips against her ear, and whispered
something that made her laugh softly. Finally, he removed his
hand from between her legs, and called out his personal access
code that released the lock on his door. They tumbled back
inside, never parting from their passionate embrace.
When the couple was out of sight, Garak slumped and leaned
his head against the wall. Though voyeurism was his speciality,
his trademark as it were, this was pathetic. His mouth was dry,
and his head hurt. He felt the familiar ache in his loins.
Garak walked quickly back to the turbolift. One deck down, but
not headed for his own quarters. He stopped outside the
door--her door. Panting, he rang the chime. Though it was late,
he knew she'd still be awake. He desperately hoped she was
alone. The door slid back to reveal a Bajoran woman, in her
40's, wearing a robe. She didn't seem startled to see Garak
standing there--just mildly surprised. Tam Rozyl was still a
handsome woman. She had to be to continue to serve customers and
work the dabo tables in Quark's bar. She'd done so since the
Cardassians occupied Tereknor. The soldiers called her
"Painless". Tam was a popular commodity.
"My, my, Garak," she chided him, with a sly smile. I've
seen more of you in the last two months, than I have in the last
two years. People will expect you to give me a betrothal
bracelet, if you keep this up."
"Is that what you want?" His voice was barely more than a
whisper.
She studied him intently. "What do *you* want?"
"I just--just had to see you, Painless." He croaked out the
words. "Please let me in."
She pursed her lips, and started to shake her head. "It's
very late . . . and I've had a long night. Some other time?"
"No!" He was adamant. "Tonight. I'll pay double."
"Wellll," she said, with renewed interest, and a twinkle in
her eye. "I do find it hard to say no to you, Garak." Tam
reached out and took his hand, pulling him inside her haven . . .
TO BE CONTINUED
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