RITE OF PASSAGE, PART 2

Garak studied Bashir across their shared table in Quark's one evening. "I certainly know you well enough to know that something is troubling you."

            In turn, Bashir forced a faint but distracted smile.

            "Come on, Julian. Out with it."

            The human doctor hesitated, and actually, uncharacteristically stammered. The Cardassian blinked at him in surprise and concern.

            Bashir cleared his throat. "Well, ...about Jake Sisko...."

            Garak's brows rose.

            The human again verbally fumbled, and then blurted, "Well, let me say the good before the bad. First, according to Commander Sisko, you handled his son's uncomfortable assignment kindly...smoothly...admirably."

            Garak acknowledged mildly with a look, and prompted, "And the bad?"

            "Well...," the doctor slowed and looked decidedly uncomfortable. "The commander... um...indicated that...something else went on...after that...."

            "Went on?" Garak clearly found the word choice a bit curious.

            "Yes, and I'm afraid that it's my fault," he suddenly blurted in a rush.

            "Fault?" Garak questioned, evidently feeling that the concept of fault had no place in the issue.

            Bashir nodded. "Because I was the one who suggested to you that our human culture may be a bit too soft, and that Jake could have...benefitted...from...."

            As the human trailed off, the Cardassian seemed somewhat affronted. "Julian, did Jake complain of anything untoward, to you or to his father?"

            "No!" the doctor assured him, startled. "Jake has been entirely mum about the whole business. Which only makes his father and me more...uneasy. And, I didn't mention this to Sisko, but...I wonder what I inadvertently caused."

            Garak sighed. "Jake has been 'mum,' as you say, because I swore him to secrecy. This part of our culture is considered a private affair."

            "So.... His father and I are not even allowed to know what...you did to him?" The last four words came out in a whisper.

            Garak folded his arms, clearly annoyed. But he affirmed. "No, you are not." With forced, failing patience, he demanded, "Doesn't Jake seem, to you and to his father, to be perfectly fine?"

            "Yes," Bashir admitted.

            "Then what is really bothering you?"

            Bashir veritably squirmed. He looked around the bar nervously. "I...don't wish to be overheard." At Garak's startled look, he clarified, "I don't want anyone to hear me but you."

            More kindly, Garak offered, "That can be easily remedied. Let us go to my quarters. We can speak in private there."

            The human accompanied him, but more nervously than the Cardassian would have liked or expected. His resulting perplexity showed in his face.

            Once inside, they sat facing each other.

            "This will be difficult to explain...because I'm not sure that I can explain it, even to myself. I know how I feel. But I don't know why. I don't really comprehend my own reactions, either."

            Garak waited, his compassion growing.

            Bashir suddenly said in a rush, "Would you say that, of all of the people on this station, I am your closest friend?" He flinched at how boastful his query sounded.

            But Garak instantly responded, "Unquestionably," without reservation.

            Bashir offered a faint, appreciative smile in return. But just as quickly, his frown of disquiet and anxiety returned. "Am I also correct that, up until this...er...peculiar turn of events, you scarcely knew Jake at all?"

            "Absolutely correct." And then Garak added, "And I still don't. We haven't spoken since, and I doubt if we will. We have nothing in common. I was simply trying to help the young lad."

            Bashir closed his eyes and sat slowly nodding.

            "Julian, what is this really all about?"

            Bashir opened his eyes and gestured helplessly. "For whatever reason, I feel as if you and Jake have leap-frogged over you and me! As if you and he have shared an emotional and mental...intimacy...beyond anything that you and I have ever shared, rendering us almost superficial by comparison!" Abruptly, Bashir could no longer meet Garak's eyes. So, he missed seeing the latter's gaze turn shrewd and enlightened.

            "You are jealous of Jake," Garak announced.

            Bashir faced him, alarmed. "How...can I possibly...envy...Jake that you...you....?"

            "Tortured him," Garak supplied. "You can say the word, Julian."

            "Actually, I think that I can't. It's such a vile, vicious, unpleasant word."

            Garak's eyes gleamed. "Unpleasantness is its trademark. Its reason for existence."

            Shocked at his own words and feelings, Bashir whispered, "I feel...left out! I...envy...Jake??? But how can I??? That's insane!!!"

            Confident now that he thought that he knew the problem, Garak replied, "Not at all. You said yourself that your human culture was too soft, and that it should have a coming-of-age ritual, like most other cultures do. You feel as if you missed out on your chance to test yourself."

            Bashir waved it away impatiently. "That's not it. I've been tested in battle numerous times. I couldn't function in Starfleet if I had failed. No, this has more to do with you and me than any...thing...else...." He slowed dramatically as he spoke those last syllables, as if only just realizing the truth of the words as he said them. His eyes and Garak's widened in sync with each other, as the human's last words sank in on both of them. Then panic supplanted the expression in the human's eyes, even as an alarming intensity entered the Cardassian's.

            Bashir bolted from the chair. "This is monstrous! I have to get out of here!!"

            Garak was quicker. He was on his feet, blocking Bashir's path, even before the latter registered that the former had moved. Bashir hissed in a breath at the unsettling glow in the Cardassian's eyes.

            "Garak! No!! No no no no...!!!"

            "Calm down," Garak soothed, as he took the defensively-raised human hands into his own. Bashir's determination to depart seemed to melt away as the Cardassian guided him back to his chair and pressed him gently into it.

            The human sat quietly gasping for a good while, before he managed to say shakily, "May...I...ask...a question?"

            "Of course," Garak invited graciously.

            "Is it true that you...strip...the...victim....?"

            Garak frowned, frightening the jumpy Bashir. "Did Jake say...?"

            "No!" the doctor hastened. "Miles told me.... It was done to him, and to his former captain, Picard...."

            Garak looked irked. "Of course O'Brien told you. Our station Cardassian-alarmist."

            "Please don't be angry with him. Then that would be my fault, too."

            Garak sighed. "No. I won't bother to be."

            But then, Bashir realized something. "Wait a moment. You asked if Jake had told me. So, that means that you did that to Jake." The human cringed.

            Garak rolled his eyes. "It's routine. Regardless of what follows. Its purpose is to make the victim feel vulnerable."

            Eyes wide with horror, Bashir murmured, "That would certainly do it."

            Garak eyed him. "Now, Julian. Are you ready?"

            "Ready??"

            "To find out what I did to Jake?"

            "But you said that you couldn't tell me, because...." Then it dawned on him, prompted by the malevolent gleam in the torturer's eyes. "Oh! No!! No no no...no no no no...!!" Bashir rose from his seat, and backed away from Garak, steadily backing toward the exit.

            But to his absolute astonishment, the Cardassian did not pursue this time. He merely restored a casual demeanor, reseated himself, and said, "Very well. I suppose that I misunderstood you. I had the impression that you didn't like feeling 'left out,' and that you wished to experience what Jake Sisko already has."

            Bashir stopped all backward motion, and stood blinking in surprise. "You're not...going to force me???"

            Garak shook his head and shrugged. "That is not how it's done. The initiate reports voluntarily when he is ready. You may return if you are ever ready. But in your case, since you are not Cardassian, you need not ever report; it is not required of you."

            Bashir just stood there, decidedly nonplussed, and feeling more than a little foolish. Garak waited placidly, sitting comfortably with folded arms.

            "Ummm...."

            "Yes?"

            "You...didn't misread me."

            Garak looked unsurprised, but made no reply.

            "It's just.... I'm afraid." Having admitted it, now he really felt silly.

            "Of course." Garak nodded, still exhibiting no surprise.

            "I guess I...expected you to force me."

            Garak watched him silently.

            "I suppose that I...needed for you to force me." He gasped, a bit shocked by his own words.

            The Cardassian unfolded his arms and leaned forward slightly in his chair. "Needed? Or wanted?"

            "Isn't that the same thing? I mean, in this situation? I don't know if I can...volunteer." He gulped.

            Garak rose slowly but stood still. "If you were Cardassian, you would be required to come to me voluntarily. But since you are not.... I suppose that we can deviate from the rules in this one detail."

            "Everything else would be the s...s...same?"

            Garak nodded calmly.

            "You...will...still...be my friend...after??"

            "Of course, Julian," he said compassionately.

            "And you will...not think less of me?"

            "Of course not."

            "Am I crazy???" Bashir whispered in shame.

            "No." Garak smiled, genuinely amused.

            The human stood silently, lower lip trembling, and a single tear slid down from one eye.

            Starkly, visibly, Garak banished his smile, and assumed a truly terrifying, unsettlingly sadistic face, eyes monstrously alit. He commanded, "Remove your clothing, human."

            Bashir swallowed hard, coughed, choked slightly, and fumbled at the chair behind him.

            Garak ordered, "Remove them now...or I will." From some unseen pocket, he produced a knife, gleaming as he expertly turned it to repeatedly catch the light.

            Bashir lost his balance and fell into the chair. "You mean to...cut them off of me???"

            "If you do not cooperate." Garak approached very slowly, still turning the weapon.

            "Okay! Okay!!" The human extended defensive hands, struggled awkwardly upward from the chair, and rapidly but clumsily pulled off everything but his underwear.

            Garak stared at it meaningfully.

            "No! Why??? Please, no!!!"

            Garak resumed his slow approach.

            Gulping and gurgling in misery, Bashir pulled them off, and again tumbled back into the chair, sitting so as to conceal himself as best he could. For just an instant, Garak struggled not to laugh, and then expertly restored his cruel demeanor. But he did put away the knife.

            The Cardassian pulled up a chair, and sat across from the human, who waited, shivering.

            "Give me your hand." He reached out for it.

            "Why?? What are you going to...???"

            This time, Garak was not amused. "I don't like having to repeat myself." He extended his own hand farther, palm up, awaiting Bashir's obedience. His eyes somehow suggested that he'd better not have to demand again.

            Trembling badly, Bashir's right hand placed itself into Garak's. Bashir's eyes closed in terror, and now two tears flowed, one from each eye.

            Very slowly, gradually, Garak studied and fondled each delicate finger in turn, while Bashir mumbled in fright.

            "Which finger shall I break?" Garak asked suddenly, almost eagerly.

            Bashir screamed briefly, and violently shook his head.

            "Hm." Garak seemed to consider, and then said, "Perhaps I would prefer the other hand." He released Bashir's right hand, and reached, as before, for the left. Shaking even worse than the right, Bashir's left hand deposited itself obediently into Garak's waiting palm. The Cardassian repeated his performance of slowly and carefully examining and fondling each finger, one by one, while Bashir quaked.

            Barely able to speak coherently, through his violent trembling, Bashir said, "I'll...need the infirmary...immediately...if...you...break...."

            Ignoring that, Garak let go of the hand, and demanded, "Give me a foot instead." Both Cardassian hands commanded compliance with a gesture.

            Bashir raised his right leg and obeyed, clearly unsure whether to be relieved or more worried. Garak accepted the foot into both hands.

            "Perhaps I should break toes instead." He inspected the foot, tweaking toes as he went.

            Alarmed, Bashir exclaimed, "I wouldn't be able to walk! I'd have to summon help...!" His hand slapped lightly against his chest, where his commbadge should have been. Encountering only his bare chest, he cast a dismayed glance over to where his uniform lay at some distance, where Garak had pitched the discarded garments. The human moaned in despair.

            "Other foot now," Garak commanded. "I'm still making up my mind."

            Shivering and shaking, Bashir complied. The same procedure was followed, with this second set of toes.

            Presently, Garak released the left foot as well and mused, "Or maybe I should hurt a different appendage. It's time to stop hiding yourself." He shifted his glance to the human's tightly clasped crotch.

            Bashir yelped in terror and cried in earnest, even as he slowly parted his legs. But this time, Garak kept his hands to himself, though not his eyes.

            After a few moments of quiet staring, Garak raised his gaze to a human face filled with utter panic and drenched in tears. The Cardassian stood, circled around behind Bashir's chair, and expertly entwined his arms into the position needed to efficiently twist and snap the human's neck.

            Bashir cried out in terror and anguish. Garak held the position for long moments, and then relaxed and released his grip. The victim sat gasping in horror.

            Still standing behind the human, now Garak slipped one hand snugly over his victim's mouth, while he pinched his nose tightly shut with the other. Unseen by Garak, Bashir's eyes bulged. But heard very clearly by Garak, the human's throat produced terrified sounds, even as the rest of his body struggled in earnest against the life-threatening pose.

            Just as Bashir felt that he must soon pass out from oxygen deprivation, Garak let him go. The torturer casually strolled back around to the front of his victim's chair as Bashir drew in great gulps of blessed air. Garak reseated himself again across from the human, and smiled in satisfaction.

            Bashir gasped for a while, before he could manage to speak. "You...nearly...smothered me!"

            Garak shook his head confidently. "You were never in any danger of suffocation, Julian. I am an expert. I know when to stop. But you see, with all of the previous procedures, I gradually lulled you into suspecting that I wasn't going to hurt you at all. I didn't really break any of your bones." He glanced downward meaningfully. "Nor your...ahem...boneless appendages. Throughout fingers, toes, sexual organs, and neck, I went through the motions while doing no damage. Then, very abruptly, I did something alarmingly real. Without warning, your growing suspicion that I might be 'all talk, no action' was shockingly shattered. In an instant, I escalated you from slowly dissipating fear to alarming utter panic. Quite effective, wouldn't you say?"

            Bashir whimpered and slumped, thoroughly agreeing via body-language. But then he sat up suddenly. "Wait a minute! You called me 'Julian' instead of 'human.' And you're talking to me, instead of just issuing orders. Is it...over???"

            Garak nodded tranquilly. "It is finished."

            "Did I...pass??"

            "You did indeed."

            "But I...cried...screamed...."

            Garak shrugged. "Everyone does."

            "Even you? Jake? Other Cardassians?"

            "Of course. In fact, you did better than some. You didn't void your bowels, or your bladder, or your stomach. You didn't even pass out."

            "Did you?" he whispered tentatively, clearly wondering if he dared ask, even now.

            "No."

            "Did Jake?"

            Garak smiled tolerantly. "Don't you smell the cleanser in that chair? But he got through it, and he is, after all, a good deal younger than you."

            "Of course," Bashir admitted. Speculatively, he mused, "I wonder how Gul Dukat did, in his test as a youth. And Legate Damar."

            Garak looked rueful. "Smugly. Both of them. But I can proudly say that I was too mature to put on such a preening display. I merely took it all in stride."

            Bashir looked self-conscious. "I have to admit: you Cardassians are tough."

            Garak smiled modestly. "And now my dear Julian, I must swear you to secrecy. This procedure must remain publicly unknown or it would lose its effectiveness, forcing us to change the test, making it more physically brutal in order to compensate for the loss of the psychological torment."

            Bashir nodded his promise, convinced of the wisdom therein.