Path: newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net!stamper.news.atl.earthlink.net!elnk-atl-nf1!newsfeed.earthlink.net!newshosting.com!nx02.iad01.newshosting.com!216.196.98.140.MISMATCH!border1.nntp.dca.giganews.com!nntp.giganews.com!newsread.com!newsstand.newsread.com!POSTED.newshog.newsread.com!not-for-mail Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative.erotica.moderated Approved: ascem@earthlink.net Organization: Better Living Thru TrekSmut Sender: ascem@earthlink.net Message-ID: From: "Penumbra" MIME-Version: 1.0 Mailing-List: list ASCEML@yahoogroups.com; contact ASCEML-owner@yahoogroups.com Subject: NEW DS9 Dark Stone of Souls 3/3 (G/B) [NC-17] Content-Type: text/plain; charset=ISO-8859-1 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Lines: 398 Date: Mon, 09 Aug 2004 18:55:06 GMT NNTP-Posting-Host: 209.198.142.218 X-Complaints-To: Abuse Role , We Care X-Trace: newshog.newsread.com 1092077706 209.198.142.218 (Mon, 09 Aug 2004 14:55:06 EDT) NNTP-Posting-Date: Mon, 09 Aug 2004 14:55:06 EDT Xref: news.earthlink.net alt.startrek.creative.erotica.moderated:82559 X-Received-Date: Mon, 09 Aug 2004 11:55:11 PDT (newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net) Please see part 1 for codes, warnings and disclaimer. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Dark Stone of Souls, part 3/3 by Penumbra (c) 2004 ---------------------------------------------------------------------- The next day dawns as dark and cold, as they always do in space. Bashir stumbles into the launch bay at 0759 hours. Bruises in the shape of Garak's hands span the skin underneath his uniform, his eyes are crusty from lack of sleep, and he can't sit down. He prays for the morning to pass quickly, for the sake of his aching body and because he thinks he can't take the guilt much longer. The ceremony is as Starfleet as the memorial service was Bajoran: a requisite and thankfully short eulogy by Captain Kim, followed by a quiet version of "Taps." When Kira's remains shoot out of the primary torpedo launcher, Bashir thinks he can feel the station shudder. "The wormhole?" Bashir nods numbly. "Yeah." "How...appropriate." The pain in Odo's voice is palpable. "Perhaps she'll see Sisko there," Julian murmurs, more to himself than to Odo. "She'd like that." "Yes," Odo says quietly. "She'd like that." "I thought so, too." He glances at Odo's stony visage. He can almost see the maelstrom raging underneath his surface, visible through the dead of his eyes. It's the same look Bashir got used to seeing in Kira's eyes: not the pain of lost lives, but of lost chances. Loving Odo is what hurt Kira, and now losing her is what's slowly killing Odo's soul. The wormhole flares open. Its eye is a white so blinding it makes Bashir blink and so he misses the moment when the torpedo enters the light. * * * * * "My head hurts." "More tea, perhaps?" Garak suggests. Bashir shakes his head in the negative. "It'll pass." The extremes of emotion are why his head aches: the sorrow of Kira's passing, the ecstasy of fucking Garak. The pain began during the ceremony and not even the relative darkness of his quarters helps. For a moment, he wonders how Garak can read in the dim light, only to remember he's not human. When the door chime sounds, Bashir jerks to sit upright on the sofa. Garak, still clad in only his uniform trousers, sets his padd down. "Are you expecting company?" "No, I'm not," Bashir murmurs as he stands. "Enter." The door slides open, admitting Odo. "The computer informed me I would find Garak here." Flush creeping up his features, Bashir draws his robe more closely around him and nods at Garak. "What can I do for you today, Odo?" "Dr. Mora is back on Bajor so I thought I'd pay him a visit. You're not in any hurry to leave, are you?" Garak smiles beatifically, as if Odo's tone hadn't been both exasperated and disapproving. "Not in the least. Go, my friend. Let me know when you're coming back." Odo turns as if to leave, but Bashir stops him with a hand on his arm. "Wait, Odo. You're going to leave, just like that, without even a proper hello?" Odo looks as if he wants to roll his eyes. "Hello, Dr. Bashir. How have you been?" Smiling, Bashir muses that spending time with other changelings has done nothing to improve Odo's irascible temper. "I have been better, but also worse, thank you for asking. Despite the circumstances, seeing you so unexpectedly has been a treat. However, how on earth did you wind up hitching a ride with him?" he asks, glancing at Garak. "Let's just say he owes me a number of favours--" "Oh, let's not exaggerate, Odo. Two favours, at most. That business with Gul Melor and then Romulus, if my memory serves me right," Garak interjects. "--and I called in one of them," Odo continues as if he hadn't heard Garak. "Why he came, I don't understand, but I've resigned to the fact that Cardassians do things that make little sense to you and me." "Kira Nerys saved my people, Odo. There's nothing I wouldn't do for her." "Ever the patriot?" Odo asks Garak, something akin to a sad smile playing on his thin lips. "Hardly. Merely an old sentimentalist." Odo snorts, prompting a smile from Bashir. "Anyway, I'm off. Try not to get into trouble while I'm away, Garak," he says, his eyes moving from Garak to Bashir. "And you, doctor, you need to find out who you're dealing with here." "What do you mean?" "Him," Odo gruffs, pointing at Garak, who immediately assumes an impeccable mien of innocence. "Ask him about that stone while you're at it, too." Garak's sigh is worthy of the stage. "Oh, Odo. I thought we were done with this discussion." "We are. However, Dr. Bashir hasn't been privy to it." With a curt nod, Odo exits and leaves Bashir to stare at the door that closed after him. He turns slowly, deliberately, until his eyes are on Garak. "Yes?" Garak queries, once again holding his padd. "Are you going to tell me or do I have to pry it out of you with pliers?" Before Garak has a chance to reply, Bashir shakes a finger at him. "And don't you dare to tell me I need to do 'research' because I swear to god, Garak, if you do that I'm--" "--not going to suck my cock when I'm done?" Sudden warmth suffuses Bashir's body and he makes an appreciative sound at the thought. He sits down, both to hide his sudden interest as well as not to loom over Garak. "Exactly," Bashir manages. His incipient erection aches pleasantly. "Pray, do tell." "This is a Soul Stone -- a real one, not a changeling this time," Garak says. His fingers trace the thick cords of scar tissue around the tablet. "There are only three of them in existence and of those, this is known as the Obsidian Soul Stone." Bashir inhales as comprehension dawns on him. "As in, the Obsidian Order?" "Very good, Julian," Garak murmurs and smiles. "This stone is, quite literally, at the heart of the Order." "I thought the Obsidian Order died with Tain's failed pact with the Romulans? And what of this..." He trails off, waving his hand. "Whatever you called it." "Intraplanetary Security Agency?" "Yes, that's it." "Oh, they call it that these days, but it isn't the first pseudonym the Order has ever assumed. Are not all higher powers polyonymous -- Yahweh, Allah, your Lord and Saviour? Same can be said for the Order of the Obsidian Soul Stone." Garak smiles, and it is not really a smile at all. "As long as there is a Cardassia, the Order will be there to protect it." Bashir nods numbly, his eyes drawn to the black void of the stone. It's not merely attached to Garak's chest; it's embedded into it, right over where a Cardassian's heart is. "But why do you have it?" "I'm no longer of the Obsidian Order, Julian," Garak says and touches the stone as if he is touching his soul. "I *am* the Order." Startled, Bashir's gaze darts from the stone to Garak's eyes that regard him with cool patience. He recognises the importance of what Garak is saying -- that the order of things has changed during their years apart. Garak is not an exiled prodigy, but the master; no longer a rising star, but the true centre of power. "You?" Bashir asks numbly. "Did you not wonder why my uniform -- and yes, Julian, it is a uniform -- has no rank markings? It's because I don't need any." "But Garak, this is the organisation that exiled you...tried to kill you." "And now I've returned to them, not as their outcast but as a conqueror," Garak says. The rasp in his voice is more pronounced. "I have breathed the toxic air and smelled the burning bodies on Cardassia for nine years because it's finally my right to do so again. It's my right and my duty, Julian, to myself and to the Cardassian people." Bashir exhales, startled and afraid of this new fire in his old friend's voice. "You...you have become Enabran Tain," he whispers. He regrets his vocalised thought immediately when he sees the flash of pain in Garak's eyes. Suddenly, the man sitting across from him is not the head of Obsidian Order any more. He's plain and simple Garak, his friend. His...lover. "I'm sorry, Garak. I didn't mean to--" "I'm not my father, Julian. I do not intend to live my life as disgracefully as he did, nor will I make the same mistakes he did." "What mistakes are those?" "He failed ultimately because he had nothing to live for." Garak's smile is warm and he leans forward. His skin glows like brushed steel. "I don't intend to die a lonely man. Why do you think I came back to Terok Nor, to my place of exile, after all these years?" "As a favour to Odo, I thought. And to trap Gul Lemec." "No, Julian. I came because of you." Breath catches in Bashir's throat. He had thought he'd cried all his tears already, yet his vision blurs when he slides down from the sofa to kneel in front of Garak. "We were stupid about this back then, weren't we, Elim?" "Oh, I suppose we were." Garak's touch on his cheek is gentle; his cock shifts inside his trousers like a living thing when Bashir rests his hand on it. The distinctly reptilian hiss of approval turns Bashir's blood to quicksilver. Soon, sliding his lips along Garak's hardness, Bashir doesn't care that his jaw hurts or that he still can't see for the tears in his eyes. He lives solely to hear the encouraging, breathless groans Garak makes and to feel the rapid pulse that races along the thick, slick shaft he takes in his mouth. "*Shelk'ta* Julian. *Azfiriez al nat're. Azfiriez...*" The Universal Translator doesn't understand Garak's words and neither does Bashir, but he comprehends their intended meaning. When Garak comes into his mouth, Bashir swallows the thick ejaculate with content warmth blossoming inside him; it's no longer mere desire he's experiencing. When he touches the Soul Stone, Bashir can feel Garak's rapid heartbeat through it. Resting his cheek on Garak's pale, muscled thigh, he traces the filigree patterns on the stone and the scar tissue around it with his fingers. "You are...quite wondrous," he whispers. He doesn't mention love, because he knows how vulnerable he is right that moment. "You are the reason the Universe invented beauty, my Julian," Garak replies. There is post-coital languor in his gestures as he smiles and touches Bashir's shoulder. "In so many ways." Bashir mirrors his smile and wonders how he has managed through the years without the infuriating, compelling presence of the man in front of him. "I didn't realise you really were a sentimentalist, Elim." "We'll keep that as our secret, won't we." * * * * * Two days later, Bashir stands by the airlock in upper pylon three and looks as if you could knock him over with a feather. When he speaks, disbelief colours his voice. "The Breen?" Odo nods. "Along with the Romulans, yes. Ever since we took that little trip to Romulus a while back, I've been trying to figure out why Garak was so interested in the Breen raids into Bajoran territory." "Because of Gul Lemec," Bashir breathes, the pieces of the puzzle finally falling into place. "Has to be." "Very good, doctor. It seems Gul Lemec has not lost his entrepreneurial streak: he was the one funnelling funds and equipment to the Breen through Romulus. To what end, we still don't know, but Garak has several working theories." "He was stealing money? The Obsidian Order's money? Did the man have a death wish?" Odo's lips twist into a thin smile. "His greatest failure was to let pride instead of caution guide his decisions. Lemec thought himself smarter than Garak." "No wonder Garak came all this way himself." "Hm, yes. He has developed a fondness for the hands-on approach, I guess. I'm sure Nerys would've appreciated the poetic justice." The hurt in Odo's eyes is almost too painful for Bashir to look at, but he agrees with his assessment. A former enemy using her funeral to ensnare the man indirectly responsible for her death is symbolism worthy of deep admiration. Garak, it seems to Bashir, is a worthy successor of the legends that have led the Order. "So you're going back?" Bashir doesn't ask how Odo and Garak manage to get to and from the Gamma Quadrant without being detected, because he knows it'd be a futile inquiry. "Yes, right after we get to Cardassia Prime again. That place..." Odo trails off and to Bashir, it seems he almost shivers. "No, the Link is where I belong." "When you come back," Bashir says, emphasising the first word. "When you come back, please come and visit me." "Perhaps, Dr. Bashir, the Universe will accommodate us." "Speaking of accommodating, what's keeping Garak?" Bashir remarks and glances at the chrono. As if summoned, Garak appears just then, breathless and flushed. "My apologies for being late. Captain Kim made his decision and so I had to arrange transportation for Gul Lemec back to Cardassia on a rather short notice." "He's not joining you?" Bashir asks. "Alas, no. That would be, shall we say, inconvenient." Odo eyes Garak. "He's going to have an 'accident,' isn't he?" "I don't know what you're talking about, Odo," Garak intones and brushes nonexistent lint off his sleeve. Looking as if he's dying to roll his eyes, Odo grunts and turns towards the airlock. "Goodbye, Dr. Bashir. I'll give you two your privacy," he calls over his shoulder as he disappears into the waiting ship. Bashir turns to Garak and smiles, memorising how blue his eyes are and how tempting his grey lips are. "I hope it's not going to be another nine years," he says, feigning nonchalance. "And hopefully the circumstances will be less sombre the next time we meet." Garak makes a sympathetic noise in his throat. "Kira's loss will be felt for a long time -- both here and on Cardassia." Bashir's exhalation is unsteady. "She is...in a better place," he says, wishing his words true. Garak touches Bashir's cheek, a sad look in his eyes. "I always wondered what could extinguish the light in you, Julian. To my great sorrow, I've now found out what it takes." Bashir smiles, touched by Garak's sentiment. He knows Garak is wrong because whatever it is in him that has died with Kira, it is now eclipsed by a new radiance. He kisses Garak because he wants to remember what he tastes like, and he doesn't care that he's scandalising half of the people around them by doing so. "Don't let it be nine years, Julian," Garak says when they part. His voice is hoarse. "You know where to find me." "I do. I love you, Elim," Bashir says before he loses his nerve. His words startle Garak to stillness, the ice blue of his eyes thawing to something resembling regret. "Say that to me again one day. On Cardassia." "I will." Bashir watches Garak's ship depart, standing still until its cumbersome silhouette is swallowed by the space between stars. He knows that out there, on a dying planet orbiting one of those distant stars, is his destiny. He loves a killer -- a devious, damaged man with a dark stone for a heart -- and the thought fills him with joy. ~~~ T h e ~ E n d ~~~ ----------------------------- End of part 3/3. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ASCEM messages are copied to a mailing list. Most recent messages can be found at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ASCEML. NewMessage: