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INITIATION

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“Why have you been avoiding me?” Garak demanded uncharacteristically heavy-handedly as he pushed his way into Bashir’s quarters.

Of all the people who could have come calling at his door tonight, this was the one that the human least wanted to face.

“You have been avoiding me ever since Odo and I returned from the Gamma Quadrant. You don’t meet me for lunch anymore, and if I happen to catch your eye at Quark’s, you hastily retreat. Now what is going on here?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Bashir countered tiredly.

“No, it is not obvious,” Garak returned relentlessly. “And I’m not going to leave you in peace until you tell me.”

Bashir turned his back and sighed; he couldn’t look his Cardassian friend in the eye.

“Well?” Garak prompted.

After a pause, Bashir said very quietly, “You…tortured…Odo.”

“And?”

Bashir half-turned in disbelief. “And?!! Isn’t that enough?!”

“Enough for what? I know what I did, of course, and Odo certainly knows, and we told all the rest of you; we didn’t hide anything!”

Bashir couldn’t help looking back at him then, resentfully.

Garak stared in return, affronted; he just didn’t get it. “Well, it’s not as if I had a choice. Enabran Tain had us; he was testing my loyalty. He told me that either I would torture Odo, or the Romulans would do so. Would you rather I’d chosen the second alternative? I’m sure that I needn’t remind you that it would have been far worse for the constable if the Tal Shiar had dealt with him.”

Bashir refused to be persuaded, and ignored the question. “Tain was your old boss; couldn’t you have talked to him, reasoned with him, talked him out of it?!”

“That’s the trouble with you humans; everything is about talk, talk, and more talk. We Cardassians are more prone to action.”

“Yes, the wrong action! A vicious, vile action! How could you…?!” he began, but bit back the rest, not wanting to say the unsavory word again.

“Odo has forgiven me! If he can, you certainly can!”

Bashir turned away again, and Garak didn’t like it. With one step, he was directly behind him, and he seized the human’s shoulder and spun him.

Trying to hide his fear, Bashir lashed out at him. “Oh, so now it’s my turn; is that it; are you going to torture me now?!”

Garak stopped and stared at him. He spoke more softly. “Is that what this is all about, Julian? You’re afraid that I’ll hurt you someday?”

Bashir spoke more quietly, too. “I just thought that you’d…never hurt any of us…here on the station. I thought that we were…special, sort of a team. I thought that we had…an understanding.”

Garak studied him. “In general, yes. But those were extreme circumstances.”

“Anything that can happen once can happen again.” Bashir gritted his teeth.

“It’s highly unlikely. Tain is almost certainly dead. The combined Obsidian Order – Tal Shiar fleet was ambushed and destroyed by the Dominion, as we told you.”

Bashir lost patience. “It wouldn’t have to be Tain! If you’re susceptible to that type of persuasion, any of an infinite number of others could put you in that kind of predicament with one of us. Dukat, maybe!”

Garak was still watching him closely. “I’m starting to see where this is going. You’re wondering: if you’d been with me instead of Odo, would I have done it to you.”

Bashir’s expression as he looked back at him was so hurt, fearful, poignant, wistful, that it unexpectedly touched the jaded Cardassian’s heart.

Almost tenderly, Garak said, “I would sincerely like to be able to tell you that no, that you are special, that I could never do that to you, …but I just can’t, Julian. If the alternative is to leave you in the hands of those who would be even more ruthless, how can you even think of wanting me to step aside and let them have you?” He went close, to take his innocent, naïve human friend into his arms to comfort him.

For an instant, Bashir was ready to rage at him; he emitted a strangled noise of fury, but then he fell sobbing helplessly into his friend’s arms.

Garak held him and patted him, wracked with guilt.

“I’m afraid of you, and I don’t like being afraid of you! I don’t like feeling so vulnerable! When you first befriended me, I was flattered but terrified; we humans hear so many terrible things about ‘dangerous, sadistic Cardassians!’ I wondered what I was getting into, how much of a risk I was really taking!” Bashir blubbered. “But as time went on, I grew to trust you! And now for this to happen! I guess I really don’t know you, do I? For you to be an expert at something so vile as torture!! And now to know that you’d do it to us, even to me!! You frighten me, Garak!!”

Garak might have missed it, if he hadn’t been looking down at the human’s wet, red face on his chest. But there it was, unmistakably: a facial expression that jarred drastically with the panicked, desperate meaning of the human’s words.

Grabbing Bashir’s shoulders firmly, and thrusting him out at arm’s length, Garak declared triumphantly, “You want it! It’s a fantasy with you, isn’t it?! That’s why you’re calling attention to it; that’s why you’re milking an obviously rare, unlikely event, and redirecting it to you as the victim!”

Bashir looked revolted. “You’re out of your mind!”

“I saw it! You thought that I wouldn’t notice. You grinned!!!”

“It was a grimace, Garak!”

“Oh no, it was a look of sheer pleasure, rapture! I saw it clearly! I know that expression very well; I’ve seen it before, more than once!”

“What…?! Where…?!”

Garak was staring intensely into Bashir’s eyes now. “I’ve seen it on the faces of Bajoran slaves, just a very few of them, who turned out to have masochistic desires! Those Bajorans loved the Occupation, reveled in it, luxuriated in it! We Cardassians were tailor-made to cater to their naughty little desires! They begged us not to beat them, not to rape them, not to torture them, but they were bringing up the idea, calling it to our attention, giving us ideas! They loved being submissive; they loved our dominance! And you love it, too, don’t you, my dear little Julian?! You want me to dominate you, because you know that I can! It all falls into place now, why you’ve been so eager for our friendship all these years; it must have been so titillating for you to be sitting there with such a dangerous, vile man, so capable of hurting you in ways that you can scarcely imagine! Now it all makes sense: you were so wide-eyed, so innocent, so gullible, so vulnerable, your eyes almost begging me to take advantage of your nearly childlike helplessness!” His eyes alit with yet another revelation. “Ah, and you conveniently even suggested an accomplice for me in this evil endeavor! Dukat! You suggested that he might end up in Tain’s role, which means that you want him to, deep in your dearest dreams! You sweet, scared little masochists always find ways to plant your ideas, to make your needs known!” A diabolical look had gradually come into Garak’s eyes.

Bashir gulped hard.

“No longer denying it, are you?” Garak looked smug, …and more than that, he looked positively delighted. “And don’t worry, I’m an expert in this, too: in dealing with you frightened, thrilled little perverts, and so is Dukat! We’re both quite experienced in indulging these strange little quirks of you fragile mammalians! And since it suits our sadistic, domineering needs to conquer and subordinate and subdue you lesser species, we’re happy to accommodate you!”  He ran a tantalizing, tickling finger down Bashir’s cheek, and the human’s nerves tingled every millimeter of the way in response. “So now you’ve got some exciting things to think about and look forward to; you get to spend days or weeks wondering what we’ll do to you! Whether we’ll hurt you here…!” The gray, scaled hand caressed the human’s face. “Or here …!” The hand traveled downward still, and brushed tantalizingly at his belly, as softly as a whisper, but it sent electricity through his victim, eliciting a dramatic gasp. Garak smiled radiantly at the effect that his efforts were having on Bashir. “What about it, dear, fearful, little Julian?? Do you want to be beaten? Do you want me to show you how the Obsidian Order tortures humans? Do you want Dukat to show you how the military does it?”

Bashir, scared almost speechless, managed to force out two words. “Garak, please!!!”

“Please, what? Please do? Or please don’t? If it’s the latter, it means that you want to beg some more; you love that, don’t you, all of you little perverts? It makes us so powerful, and you so vulnerable! But as for what specifically you want us to do to you, don’t worry, you won’t have to really give me an answer; we’ll be able to read your cues when the time comes. And never fear, we’ll give you plenty of time to beg for mercy all you want to, before we hurt you.”

There was a soft sibilance to the last two words, almost as if Garak said them reverently, intimately, and it made the human tremble uncontrollably. Garak laughed knowingly, and took the victim back into his arms.

 

The next day, a shockingly nervous Bashir approached Garak at his table in the Replimat, with obvious hesitation and trepidation. By contrast, Garak’s welcoming smile was positively dazzling.

“M…mind if I join you?” The human’s voice shook.

“I would be delighted, Doctor.” Again in contrast, the Cardassian was completely self-possessed and absolutely glowed, while tremors vibrated through the human.

“I have to talk to you,” the unnaturally pale human whispered urgently.

“I’m all attention,” Garak invited eagerly.

“About yesterday….”

“Yes?”

“I need for you to understand that I’m afraid for real!”

The intended revelation failed to have the desired effect. Garak serenely replied, “Of course you are.”

“Then you won’t.…” Bashir stopped abruptly; he’d planned to request assurance that the hideous plan was aborted; Garak’s lack of concern had derailed that intention. “What??” Bashir was confused.

“It’s quite a natural reaction. Genuine fear mixed with the thrill. Care for a taste?” He offered a forkful of his lunch.

Bashir waved it away in distress. “I don’t want to go through with this preposterous scheme!”

“Enjoying your role to the hilt, excellent. You’re really playing it up well, getting the most out of it. Very good.”

 “I mean, I don’t want this! Perhaps you misread me!”

“Not a chance,” Garak said smoothly, still smiling. “I’ve seen this too many times. You’re a classic case.”

“I’m asking: how do I get out of this??!”

“You don’t.”

“You can’t mean…!” The human suddenly realized that his volume was rising along with his desperation. He looked around uneasily, and lowered his voice. “You don’t seriously intend to summon Gul Dukat here for this insanity!”

“So that he can participate in one of his all-time favorite pastimes? My dear Doctor, he’d never forgive me if I deprived him of what has become a very rare opportunity, since the end of the Occupation.”

“Garak! How can I get through to you?! Help me!!”

“But my dear innocent soul, I am helping you. I’m reacting in exactly the way that you need me to, as we play out our little drama.”

Through gritted teeth, Bashir hissed, “This is not one of your sick, tragic, Cardassian literary dramas!”

“Oh, but it is. A surprising number of our greatest literary works are based on just this phenomenon. There are even those historians among my people who believe that this bizarre dominant-submissive, sado-masochistic relationship between us reptilians and you mammalians formed the psychological basis for our Occupation of Bajor: each side fulfilling the other’s darkest, sickest whims.” Garak regarded him playfully. “Look forward to it, dear Julian. That’s half the fun. And we’re giving you extra time to do so before we… strike.”  He delivered a dramatic pause before the last word, and then leaned forward abruptly as he said it, presenting a most alarming imitation of a poisonous snake striking.

Bashir lurched backward in his chair in terror and revulsion. Garak chuckled mildly.

Fighting back tears, Bashir said, “About your last statement: do you mean to say that you’ve already contacted Dukat?? And that he’s agreed to go along with this charade???”

Garak gave him a mildly reproving look. “Surely you know that I won’t answer that, or anything else that would damage the suspense.”

“You mean that I’m not even allowed to know when??”

“Precisely.”

“I want out of this!!!”

Garak merely regarded him tolerantly, pityingly.

“What if I go to Sisko?! And Odo?!! And O’Brien!!”

“You won’t,” Garak responded confidently.

“How do you know?!”

“Because there is the remote possibility that they might actually manage to stop us. And that would leave you bitterly disappointed.”

“What??!!!”

Garak leaned forward intently. “Look into your darkest dreams, Julian, your deepest nightmares. You’ll find that we offer to fulfill a longing that lurks there in the depths.”

Bashir blinked back tears. “You won’t…kill me??”

“You will not be killed or maimed. You will recover.”

“Will you help me through the recovery?” he asked timidly.

Garak eyed him almost hungrily. “I wouldn’t miss it. It’s part of the fun.”

Bashir gave up the struggle and allowed the tears to flow down both cheeks.

Garak leaned closer again. “Think of your own planet’s prehistory. You’re the scurrying, panicked, furry, soft little gerbil-like early mammal. And Dukat and I are the two dangerous, looming T-Rexes, poised to attack, our shadows falling over you even as we speak.” His eyes were radiant. He rose to leave, and patted Bashir’s hand, and said, “Have an exciting day.” His eyes twinkled.

 

For the following three nights, Bashir cried himself to sleep in fright, and each morning the dried tear streaks on his cheeks bore testimony to the fact.

On the fourth night, he was still awake and wet, tears streaming, when the rough hand over his mouth silenced the scream that he would’ve otherwise made upon feeling it.

Garak’s voice said, “Computer, lights.”

The hand belonged to Dukat.

Frantic, Bashir screamed in his throat even with his mouth muffled, and shocked even himself with how loudly he could do so.

Fast as a snake, Dukat’s other hand squeezed his throat shut, sending panic into the human eyes.

Unruffled, unsurprised, Garak leaned close over him from the other side of the bed, and said matter-of-factly, “Cutting off your breathing to prevent your screaming is advantageous for us, but I suspect that you’ll agree that it’s detrimental to you. So we’re prepared to offer you a choice between breathing and screaming. If I were you, I’d choose breathing.”

The human nodded desperately, and was released; he lay panting between them, and sobbing quietly.

“Aw, you’ve been crying,” Dukat observed in pseudo-concern, and wiped the tears away with his hand.

“Every night for the past four,” Bashir confessed readily, accusationally, wanting them to bear the burden of what their sadistic scheme was costing him. He should’ve known that it would backfire; instead of exhibiting guilt, their expressions bore pride and arrogance. Bashir was too frightened to find the energy to resent it. Still allowing himself to cry freely without shame, he blubbered, “I don’t want you to!”

The Cardassians exchanged an unimpressed glance.

Garak regarded him tolerantly. “Did you tell Sisko? Odo? O’Brien?”

Bashir was suddenly self-conscious, and could not meet their eyes. “Um, …no,” he admitted softly, and squirmed.

Garak feigned surprise. “Why not? They might have managed to stop us.”

Bashir fretted uncomfortably. “Well, it…would’ve been so embarrassing to admit to Miles that you and I are having a problem in our relationship, because he warned me against befriending you when you first approached me; I would’ve endlessly heard, ‘I told you so!’ As for Sisko, I would’ve been so humiliated trying to describe such a bizarre problem; he and I are not that close; I wouldn’t’ve known how to even begin! As for Odo….” His volume dropped dramatically. “I think that he’s been through enough lately.”

Garak’s eyes were playful. “Besides, if they had somehow found a way to stop us, then you’d never have known what we would’ve come up with, and it would forever have tormented you; you’d’ve always wondered what we would’ve done. After all, you have to be curious.”

“Well, I…must admit that I…have had a doubt or two, conflicting impulses, I suppose one could say, because I do find you two rather fascinating.” His expression crumpled into renewed panic and tears. “But now that I’m in the middle of this, I can’t take it!”

“Yes, you can,” Garak said patiently. “And now you’ve made your dutiful protestations of reluctance, and made a show of protecting your non-perverted innocence.”

“But what if I die of fright???!”

“You won’t.” His eyes glittered in amusement at the absolutely precious wording.

By now, mostly stalling for time, Bashir inquired, “Why are you wearing a military uniform like his?”

“It’s far more intimidating. Very effective in a torture chamber.”

In a very small, almost childlike voice, the human said, “What’re you going to do to me?” He whimpered charmingly.

Dukat said pleasantly, “We don’t plan these things in advance; we just act instinctively along the way.”

Garak was looking at Bashir’s midsection. “Why are you holding yourself like that?”

The eyes of the other two followed his gaze. Sure enough, the human’s hands were clutching protectively at his tummy.

“I…I don’t know. I didn’t even know that I was doing it. But now that I think about it, it feels like fear comes from there. It may sound silly.” His voice recommenced shaking. “But when I’m this afraid, it’s coming at me in waves! From here! Fear is here!!” He writhed in terror.

Garak wore a self-satisfied smile. “Then that’s where we should begin.”

            Dukat agreed. “I told you that we get inspired along the way.”

Bashir’s hands were easily pried away, accompanied by his panicky gasping and soft little cries. He saw Garak’s fist. “Don’t beat me!”

“Nothing so crude, I assure you.” Garak dug in his knuckles and twisted diabolically, expertly, as if burrowing into soft soil, eliciting wide-eyed squeaks of horror alternating with wincing guttural groans of pain.

The few moments that Garak continued to gouge into his guts felt like eons, and Bashir was soon frantically gasping, “No! No!! No!!!”

Garak stopped, smiled, and said conversationally, “It’s like a case of severe cramps, isn’t it?”

Whining, Bashir held himself again and doubled up, cringing and grunting.

When the victim had calmed back to slight panting, Dukat said leisurely, “Now it’s my turn to choose a technique. You know, Doctor, your allies, the Vulcans, have a fascinating method for rendering any mammalians unconscious, called the Vulcan nerve pinch; it doesn’t work on us, of course, due to our neck ridges. But it’s quite effective on humans, among others. Unfortunately, only Vulcans can perform it. That didn’t stop us Cardassians from trying, and experimenting, however. What we found was that, while we can’t render a victim unconscious, our attempts do produce exquisite torture.” He grinned proudly at a very pale Bashir. “Have you ever been nerve-pinched by a Vulcan, Doctor?”

Bashir nodded wordlessly, shuddering in fear.

“You’ll find that it’ll feel very different when we do it.”

Dukat and Garak each took the shoulder closer to him, and began. Bashir’s cry of agony was louder than they found comfortable, and Dukat’s free hand stifled him again. Even after they let go, the human found that both shoulders throbbed alarmingly.

“Oh gawd that’s awful!!!” Bashir forced out between clenched teeth.

Dukat and Garak smiled good-naturedly at his adorable wording.

Stinging tears had formed again, this time automatically, and they flowed.

Dukat addressed Garak conversationally, “Quite a concentrated bundle of nerves there, in mammalians.”

Garak responded, “Convenient for us that we lack that weakness.”

Hurt and resenting it, Bashir lashed out, “Garak! You’re supposed to be my friend!!”

Unruffled, Garak said, “And I am indeed. And friends have fun together.”
“This…isn’t…fun!!!”

“Now you’re not going to start that tiresome denial routine again, are you?”

“We’ll have to keep him distracted from that boring tendency,” Dukat agreed. “Speaking of boring: did you know that that same general concept of the nerve pinch can be done just as painfully in an entirely different area? Our fingers can bore into your sides, exactly at the narrowest part of your waist, just as effectively. Here, let us demonstrate.” As before, Dukat on the left and Garak on the right, each buried thumb and index finger into soft flesh at Bashir’s waistline. Briefly, the human cried out, and then, seeing Dukat’s free hand rise, hastily stifled himself this time. Their unwillingness to allow him to express his fear and pain vocally produced a need to force it out otherwise, and tears once again flowed. When at last they released their grips, he lay panting and sobbing slightly. The two Cardassians responded as if to an appreciative audience, preening and smirking as if his whimpers were the warmest of applause.

When he gradually realized that they were watching him tranquilly, apparently disinclined to hurt him further, he asked tentatively, “Are you, um, …finished with me now?” He tensed visibly as he awaited their answer.

Tenderly, Garak reassured him, “Yes, my dear Julian, your first torture-session is over. Your initiation into Cardassian sado-masochism is complete.”

The human couldn’t prevent a sigh of relief and a faint smile. He turned timidly to Dukat. “Are we…friends now, too?”

“If you like,” Dukat said easily. “We’ll be seeing each other again. Julian.” It was the first time that he’d used the human’s first name.

Garak smiled fondly at him. “Goodnight, Julian.”

 

The next day, at lunchtime, a very sore Julian Bashir staggered stiffly into the Replimat. His friend Garak and his friend Miles O’Brien were at separate tables near each other. Bashir smiled uncertainly at the former’s twinkling eyes and the latter’s worried concern.

“Hello, Garak. Hi, Miles.”

“What happened to you?!” O’Brien demanded.

“I was uh, …horseback riding in the holosuite.” He had been prepared with that answer for anyone who asked, but he struggled self-consciously not to see Garak’s corresponding smirk. He eased slowly down into a chair between the two tables, so as not to show favoritism or slight either one. He gritted his teeth as he sat.

O’Brien insisted, “I think that you should let one of the other doctors check you over today.”

“No, I’m all right. I scanned myself with a medical tricorder….”

Garak’s brow ridges rose.

“…And no harm done.”

Garak smiled kindly at him as O’Brien muttered something about doctors making the worst patients.

Already finished eating, O’Brien rose, and in supportive concern, put his hands on both of Bashir’s shoulders and squeezed. Bashir’s resulting yelp caused one man to drop his tray in startlement, one woman to spill her drink in fright, and Garak to nearly spray his own drink in amusement, having just taken a gulp.

“Geez! What the hell…?!” roared O’Brien.

Lamely, Bashir faltered, “I, uh, …fell off the horse, too. More than once. Please, Miles, almost everything hurts.”

“Sorry! Okay, well, take it easy, huh? See you this evening.” He left, shaking his head.

Garak sat grinning broadly at him. “Horseback riding, is it?”

“I didn’t know what else to say,” Bashir murmured sheepishly.

Garak leaned closer, an unmistakable gleam in his eyes. “The question is: did you fall off of the horse, or did the horse fall on you???”