Images in a Broken Mirror, Part 1

Title: Images in a Broken Mirror
Author: Kathryn Ramage
Series: DS9(AU)
Codes : G/B, alt-G/B, and some K/alt-K
Rating: R for a non-consensual m/m scene. There is also a minor f/f scene.
Summary: An alternate alternate-universe story. While Kira is forced to cooperate with First Officer Garak's plans to assassinate the Intendant, Bashir suffers a traumatic incident that affects his friendship with Garak afterwards. Later on, Kira and Bashir are taken back to the mirror universe with Sisko to aid the Terran revolution.
Setting: The first part of this story, "The Alternate Intendant," is set at the same time the 2nd-season episode "Crossover" occurs; my story diverges from "Crossover" about half-way through, and some of the dialog used here is taken from that episode.
The second part, "A Revolution in Looking-Glass Land," is set a year later, around the same time as the 3rd season's "Through the Looking Glass"--although, with the exception of the rescue of alt- Jennifer, the plot of that story and mine are different. The alt- characters featured here are not the same ones that appear in that episode.
Disclaimer: Paramount owns Star Trek, DS9, and all the characters even if they never really knew what to do with them. This story was written purely for entertainment purposes.
Thanks: To Mary Knasinski, for beta-reading this.
Copyright November 1999

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
The Alternate Intendant
/~i~/
To Kira, the most disturbing aspect of this alternate universe that she and Bashir had strayed into was her own counterpart. That _other_ Kira Nerys who swaggered with arrogance and aggressive sensuality, lips curved into a predator's smile and eyes glinting with a hunger that approached madness. It wasn't the Intendant's casual cruelty itself that shocked her--she had seen it all before during the Occupation--but the knowledge that these same Cardassian-like qualities were somewhere in her. It was _her_ body that swaggered. Her mouth that smiled after sending Quark off to be executed, and announced that she was throwing a party. Her eyes with that mad glint. This was a person she might have become if her life had taken a different path.
And perhaps she was a little closer to this other Nerys than she would have liked to admit. She couldn't forget that, when they'd first met, she had admired the Intendant's self-confidence and envied her position in this universe's Alliance, where Bajor was a powerful presence.
The other people she had met on this space station were also unsettling reflections of people she knew on DS9: the raffish pirate Sisko, the appallingly decent Quark, and her counterpart's first officer, a Garak just as treacherous as the one Commander Sisko allowed to stay on DS9, but more personally ambitious and less subtle in getting what he wanted.
When she returned to her quarters with her dress for the Intendant's party, First Officer Garak was waiting for her.
"She'll never let you leave, you know. Can't you tell? She's in love!" he began, explaining what Kira already knew. "You're the perfect gift for the girl who has everything. She's taken you into her heart. Who else could she share her deepest secrets with? Tell her troubles to? Trust with her life?"
When she pointed out the guards at her door, Kira received an unsettling surprise: the guards were not there at the Intendant's order, but placed by Garak. She began to regard her visitor more warily.
"Oh, she trusts you," he continued cheerfully, "as much as she trusts anyone. So, who better to betray her?"
He had come to his point. This Garak was interested in "career advancement"--a venture, he told her, which required risk. Except that he wanted _her_ to be the one to take the risk for _his_ advancement.
"Consider my offer carefully, my dear. She'll never let you go. I will. If you want to leave, you'll assist me."
"How?" Kira asked.
"By taking her place."
"_What_?"
"By tomorrow morning, she will be gone."
"Gone," she echoed, although she understood exactly what he meant. She needed to hear the words spoken plainly, no twisted Cardassian half-truths, and to know precisely what he wanted from her before she could decide how to respond.
"She will be _gone_," the First Officer repeated impatiently. "Please, don't make me use some foolish euphemism. You will assume her place as Intendant, and announce that your counterpart from the other side has returned to wherever she came from. In a few days, you will step down to embark on a spiritual journey, to explore your _pagh_ or whatever--" His dismissive tone told her that, even in this universe, Cardassians had no respect for the Bajoran faith. "And I will take your place as Intendant."
It was no more than she had expected. In fact, it was even less complicated. "What about my friend?" she asked.
"The Terran boy? Yes." Garak smiled. "He will be taken into my custody. I promise you that he won't be harmed, as long as you cooperate. In fact, he'll be treated to as much hospitality as we Cardassians can offer until you resign--and then you can be happily reunited." The smile disappeared and he stepped closer with deliberate menace. "I've made arrangements with his supervisor. If you should decide to decline my offer, tomorrow, it will be your human friend who will be gone."
He didn't wait for an answer, but blew her a kiss and left her alone to think things over.
/~*~/
Julian knew that he couldn't have been stuck here in ore processing for more than five or six hours, but it seemed like a miserable eternity.
Back at the Academy, when he'd studied the missions of the famous Captain James T. Kirk, he had been thrilled and intrigued by the idea of an alternate universe. What an adventure that must have been! Imagine, a reality where everything was a mirror reflection of his own. A dark Federation. A Starfleet run like the pirate ships in old swashbuckling stories. A mirror version of one's self. And now, he was actually in that same universe. Adventure? Hardly. He'd been dragged away the minute he and Major Kira had arrived and put to this dirty, grubby, back-aching work under the unrelenting gaze of a rigid, martinet Odo who took every sign of his weariness or word out of his mouth as an opportunity to slap him around.
Kira had been more lucky; _her_ counterpart was in charge of this station--Terek Nor, they called it here --and she had more freedom to move around than a lowly human would ever be allowed. She had come down to the processing center hours ago, to see if he was all right, to tell him where they were, and to make plans for their escape. They had agreed that, since a trans- porter accident had sent Captain Kirk to this alternate universe originally, then another transporter might be used to get them home. Kira had gone in quest of access to a transporter, and Bashir had not seen her since. For his own part, he had made friendly overtures to this reality's Miles O'Brien; Julian had seen him working at the ore-processing equipment and he believed that this O'Brien must have the same talent for tech- nology as his friend did.
His first efforts had been rebuffed, and O'Brien had been summoned to make some repairs elsewhere, but Bashir hadn't given up yet. If this man was at all like _his_ Chief O'Brien, then it was just a matter of being persistent. Julian knew he could win him over. He planned to try again tonight, after this work-shift was over. He had heard that the mine-workers had their meals in a common area. If he found O'Brien there, he'd make a point of sitting with him. He would talk about his own universe, since the last time they had talked, that had been the one thing O'Brien had seemed interested-
"Doctor."
Julian looked up from his thoughts. Overseer Odo had been talking to a pair of Klingon guards who'd come in a few minutes ago--but still kept an eye on him all the while. Now, the shapeshifter wore a grim little smile that told Bashir that nothing good was about to happen.
"Come here, Doctor." The word dripped with sarcasm. As if any human in this universe could ever become a physician! "This is going to be your last shift here."
Julian rose warily from the pile of ore he had been sorting through, and took one reluctant step.
He moved too slowly for Odo. "Come on!" An arm extended in his direction, becoming a sort of amorphous tentacle as it wrapped around his upper body and yanked him forward. He was nearly thrown against one of the Klingons, who grabbed a fistful of his uniform and hauled him out.
/~*~/
When Kira reached the processing center shortly after- wards, intending to warn Bashir that he was in danger, the doctor was nowhere in sight.
She turned, demanding, to Odo.
"Your Terran is no longer assigned to my processing crew, Ma'am," he informed her with a bow of deference. If nothing else, she was the Intendant's twin and, for the moment, a favored guest. Nevertheless, Odo wore a small smile of amusement that Kira found ghastly on such a familiar face. "Subintendant Garak has taken him into protective custody. He's been escorted to the First Officer's quarters."
/~*~/
She'd been too slow. Damn it! Kira cursed to herself as she stalked swiftly back to the turbolift. Although she had no particular fondness for Bashir, she did not want to see him in Cardassian hands.
She emerged from the lift near her own quarters; Garak was there, waiting for her again.
His eyes widened with exaggerated sympathy. "Is there something wrong, my dear?" And Kira was certain that he knew where she had just been.
"You've got him, haven't you?"
"Yes." He sounded surprised that she had to ask. "I told you that I had made arrangements. Did you think I would wait until _after_ you and I had had our conversation to enact them?"
No, Kira admitted to herself. Of course Garak would have sent someone down to take Bashir even before he'd spoken to her; it was only reasonable to expect him to take measures to insure her cooperation beforehand.
As the First Officer observed her obvious frustration, his expression grew more smug. He had her, and he knew it: as long as he held the doctor hostage, she had no choice but to go along with his plans.
"All right," she hissed through her teeth. "What do I have to do?"
He told her.
/~*~/
Bashir continued to struggle against the guards, in spite of several gauntleted cuffs to the side of his head. Miserable as ore processing had been, they might be taking him to someplace far worse. As he was dragged down the corridors, he envisioned any number of horrific possible destinations: A small, dank cell, where he would be locked up and forgotten. An interrogation chamber, where he would be tortured for information about the universe he had come from, and the wormhole that had brought him here. He remembered reading about the neural "agonizers" used on the crew of the alternate-Enterprise; did this Klingon/Cardassian/ Bajoran Alliance have something similar? If he wasn't going to be interrogated, he might have been selected for target practice. Or he was about to be publicly executed. The Klingons might have orders to toss him out of an airlock, for all he knew.
The last place he expected to be taken was a lush, private suite in the habitat ring.
Julian's first thought as they hauled him into the sitting room with its blood-red rugs and wall-hangings and ornately carved furniture was that he had been brought to see the Intendant, but the murky lighting and the decor were unmistakably Cardassian. A Car- dassian wearing a plain servant's tunic received them.
One of the guards thrust Bashir forward. "The Terran Subintendant Garak sent for."
The Cardassian nodded. "I will inform him. The Sub- intendant requires you to remain--but outside, please." And, after the Klingons had retreated to stand watch outside the door, he turned to Bashir. "Remain where you are, Terran." His eyes swept over the grime- covered young man with a small frown of disgust. "Don't touch anything, and try not to get any of your dirt on the carpet."
Julian remained where he was while the Cardassian went to a nearby comm-panel. His mind was busy with new possibilities.
Subintendant Garak. He had only seen this universe's Garak briefly, when he'd first arrived on Terek Nor, and he had no time to assess the character of this mirror-version of his friend. All he could recall was how much more intimidating Garak had looked in a Cardassian officer's uniform, and how strange this Garak's voice had sounded--so harsh and blunt, without that teasing, conversational lilt.
How different was this Garak from the man he knew? Bashir had formed a theory that this universe wasn't so much a 'mirror' of his own reality as an uglier variation, where one's worst potential was encouraged to develop to its fullest: Odo's desire for order had made him a petty tyrant here; O'Brien's caution had become suspicion and open hostility. And as for Garak...?
For that matter, what did he know about _his_ Garak? It had only been recently, when Garak had been tormented by the deactivation of his implant, that Julian had gained any insight into the Cardassian's true nature-- disturbing and intriguing hints extracted from a tangle of lies. And, only recently, when his friend had nearly died, had he begun to realize how much he cared for the mysterious tailor.
He was pulled from his thoughts when Terek Nor's First Officer arrived.
"What's this all about, Garak?" Bashir demanded. "Why bring me here?"
And, in reply, he was slapped hard enough to throw him off balance.
Garak caught him by the arm. "Terrans do not address me in that tone," he snapped. "You are here for one reason: you are useful to control your Kira Nerys. You ensure that she performs a service I require. I have no other reason to let you live." He tapped the bridge of Julian's nose lightly, almost playfully, but there was a warning in his eyes. "Remember that." Then he turned to address the servant: "Revar, see that our guest has something to eat-" He released his grip on Bashir, and regarded the ore-dust smeared on the palm of his own hand with distaste. "And an opportunity to bathe. Get him out of those filthy clothes."
Revar bowed. "It will be done, Subintendant."
"But first, you will assist me. I have a party to attend tonight."
/~ii~/
As Kira entered what had been Quark's Place before the Ferengi's execution earlier that day, she noted with relief that neither Garak nor the Intendant had arrived at the party yet. But Sisko was lounging sullenly at the bar.
Although she had to be cautious for the sake of Bashir's safety, she was still chafing at her helplessness. She couldn't just let Garak assassinate the Intendant; there had to be _something_ she could do to thwart his plans. Now that Quark was dead, Sisko was her only possible ally.
She didn't know quite what to make of this Sisko; she saw nothing in him that was like her commander, but if the Prophets had any influence in this universe, there must be a spark of the Emissary somewhere inside this man. She had to try and reach it.
As she crossed the room toward him, Sisko gave her a tooth-baring smile. "Nice dress." His eyes ran slowly down her in a way she found disturbing, not only because he was the counterpart of her commander, but also in light of his relationship with the Intendant. He had tried to threaten her with the same aggressive tactics when they'd first met, but her mission was too urgent for her to be intimidated.
"We have to talk," she said and took the seat beside him. "I need your help."
Sisko gulped his drink and did not look interested.
"It's about the Intendant. Her life is in danger."
"Garak?"
Kira was surprised. "How do you know?"
He giggled. "Garak's been planning to kill her and take her place since the day he got here."
"Well, this time, he wants _me_ to take her place."
Another giggle. "That's more creative than he usually gets."
"We have to put a stop to this," Kira persisted.
"What makes you think I _want_ to stop this?" Sisko replied. He did not look at her as he spoke, but kept his eyes warily on the Klingon and Bajoran officers nearest them. "Even if Garak works up the nerve to get rid of her, what difference would it make to me? One Intendant's just the same as another."
"You'd have the same bargain with him?" she asked pointedly.
He snorted. "I've heard some stories about Garak, but I doubt I'm his type."
"And you think he'll let you go on playing pirate like _she_ has, let you keep your ship and your crew?"
"Why not, if I don't get in his way?"
"So you're on his side?"
"I'm on nobody's side but my own," Sisko answered. He dropped his gaze, and their conversation came to an end when Garak entered the room.
"My dear." The Cardassian advanced toward them. "How breath-taking you look. A perfect twin for our Intendant, wouldn't you agree, Mr. Sisko?"
Sisko lifted his eyes, not to Garak, but to the doorway behind Kira. He murmured, "Nice dress," again as the crowd around them burst into applause; the Intendant, in an identical purple party-gown, was making her entrance.
"Play something bright!" she announced with a smile. "I'm in a happy mood!" The musicians began to play a Bajoran festival melody, and she held out one hand toward the trio at the bar. "Benjamin, dance with me." It was not a request.
Sisko went to her. Garak took his seat and leaned close to the Major's ear. "I know what you've been trying to do," he hissed, "but you won't receive any assistance from Mr. Sisko--he hates the Intendant as much as I do."
"I know it," Kira answered under her breath, outraged, humiliated, and terrified at having been caught. "But your plan isn't going to work. It's too dangerous. There are too many people around."
"It will work," he whispered back. "Be patient. She'll ask you to dance next, and everything will happen just as I've told you it will. I'll let you know when it's time. By the way, I wouldn't recommend trying to warn her. If she doesn't blame you for not going to her right away, I'll swear that you've been my willing accomplice from the beginning, that you agreed to work with me because I offered to send you back to your own universe. She'll believe that. She knows you've been looking for a way to leave Terek Nor. I can almost guarantee that you'll be executed by my side. And don't forget about your Terran companion."
She shot a glaring glance in his direction. "I swear that if you've done anything to him, Garak..."
"Not a thing!" the Cardassian insisted and, as one of the human servants approached with a bottle of kanar and two glasses on a tray, took it. "He's being well cared for. My personal valet is seeing to his comfort." He filled one glass and, tilting the bottle, offered to fill the other for her. When Kira did not respond, he went on: "A charming young man. I would hate to have to harm him. Of course, whether or not I _will_ harm him is entirely up to you." He sipped his drink and turned at the sound of the Intendant's laughter; she pressed herself close against Sisko as the two of them spun together. "All you have to do is follow my instructions. I'll be watching to see that you do."
What followed was like a bad dream. When the music ended, Sisko approached her and asked, "Your turn now?" and the Intendant, with a smile like a hungry horocat, pushed him aside and said, "No, she's mine first." Kira's stomach lurched sickeningly as she was pulled out onto the dance floor, just as Garak had said she would be.
Her twin's arms went around her waist and her chin jabbed into her shoulder. She was held firmly against the plush material of the Intendant's gown as they swayed together, she awkwardly and little behind the beat of the tambor-bells. Garak sat watching them from the bar, filling glass after glass of kanar--Kira hoped, the way he was drinking, that Sisko was right after all and he didn't have the nerve to go through with this.
When the Intendant released her, the First Officer poured her a drink; she swallowed it down in one gulp, then nearly lost it again when the liquor hit her already churning stomach.
"She didn't-" she tried to tell him.
"She will," Garak answered. "Wait."
The Intendant went among her guests like a queen on her progress, extending her hand to the bowing supplicants, granting favors and rewards. She was generous tonight-- unusually so, Kira gathered from the surprised responses of the guests. She was bright, laughing, and cheerful, and she wanted everyone to share in her happiness.
*She is in love,* the Major thought. *I'm her mirror. Another self. I've attracted her in way no one else could--and I can betray her as no one else can.*
It was nothing she hadn't done before, she told herself. Lure oppressors to their deaths. She must have killed a dozen Cardassians using a similar trick--and, in this universe, Kira Nerys was no better than any Cardassian Gul. Butcher. Sadistic overlord. As much a monster as Dukat. This woman deserved to die.
But that didn't quell the nauseous feeling inside her.
The music changed, becoming slow and sensual. Another dance. When the Intendant pulled her close this time, she whispered in her ear, "Let's get out of here, find someplace a little more private."
Just as Garak had said. Over her counterpart's shoulder, Kira could see the First Officer across the room. Their eyes met; he nodded. It was time.
Without waiting for an answer, the Intendant yanked her out onto the Promenade.
"Nerys, listen-" she said as soon as they were out of Garak's sight. "It's important."
They went into what was the assay office on DS9--here, a tea and spices shop. Just inside the door, the Intendant turned and took her by the wrist; Kira shook the light grip off.
"Nerys-"
A fiercer grip clamped down on her upper arm.
"Enough teasing," the other hissed. "Don't you think _I_ know?" The hold on her arm relaxed, and the Intendant's voice became a beguiling purr. "You're just like me. Exactly like me. We are the same, Nerys!" Fingers crept lightly up to her shoulder. "The same thoughts. The same..." She played with the shoulder straps. "Needs. I _know_ you. Things no one else could ever know. And you know me."
There was a wild hunger in those eyes. Not for sex-- Kira realized that now. The need was deeper than that. Somewhere in her, even wrapped in her ego and power-mad delusions, this woman knew how she was despised. At the center of it all, she was desperately lonely and she sought an emotional connection that no sycophantic relationship could replace. Kira understood that that was what made _her_ so attractive to her counterpart: If another self couldn't love her, who else would?
Kira almost felt sorry for her.
The Intendant slipped her fingers beneath one strap to draw her close for a kiss. Kira braced herself for a weird experience, when the door hissed open and Garak came in.
The Intendant whirled on him. "What do _you_ want?"
He didn't answer, merely pulled out a small dagger concealed beneath his uniform breastplate, and stabbed her. She made a small, choked sound of surprise and twisted away from the blade. She took one step back toward Kira, eyes on her reproachfully.
"I trusted you..." and she fell at the Major's feet.
It was nothing she hadn't done before. Sometimes, she had even been the one to slip the blade in. But to see her twin--herself, as she might have been--dead on the floor was stunning. Kira felt as if she were a kid again, participating in her first killing. For a long moment, she stood frozen, staring down at the body and the dark pool of blood that slowly spread out from beneath it.
"It's done," said Garak, more to himself than to her. "We can't turn back." He picked up the glittering head- band that had fallen away from the body, and handed it to her. "Intendant, I suggest you return to the party before your absence is noticed."
Kira placed the headband on her own head. "What about _her_?" she asked.
"I'll take care of it." Now that the act was irrevocable, he became more confident. "In just a few minutes, there will be no sign of what happened here except for a stain on the carpet. There are plenty of those around the station. One more won't matter." He tossed the dagger on top of the body. "Go."
/~*~/
She returned to the party. Sisko had retreated to a table in a corner with his crew, but when he saw her, he rose and came forward.
"Where did your friend go?" he asked.
Garak had followed behind her; Kira wondered how he had gotten rid of the Intendant's body so quickly. As he took his seat at the bar and waved for another bottle of kanar, his eyes remained intently on her. Like it or not, there was no turning back now. She had assumed this role, and had to see it through.
She imitated the Intendant's swagger. "I sent her away. She was beginning to bore me."
Sisko nodded.
"But let's not talk about _her_. It's a party!" She pulled him onto the dance floor. "We should be having fun!"
/~*~/
If the first half of the evening had been nightmarish, the rest was like a fever-dream. She moved in a haze, as if she were not acting of her own volition--as if the recently departed Intendant had possessed her. The words that came out of her mouth, the movements of her body, even her smile--it was all her twin's. It seemed incredible to her that no one questioned her. Could none of them see the difference? And what would happen to her if they did?
When a squabble broke out between the Klingons and one of Sisko's crew, it was too much. Her overwrought nerves finally snapped. She spun on them, shouting. For once, it was _her_, no imitation of the Intendant, but it had the same effect. The Klingons cowered. The room fell into a terrified silence. Garak beamed approvingly.
At last, the party was over. Garak escorted her to the Intendant's quarters.
"You were very good tonight, my dear. It was a most impressive performance. Continue, and in 52 hours, you will announce your retreat and be free to go."
Kira let out a burst of breath. "I don't think I can hold up that long."
The First Officer smiled unpleasantly. "You will have to." They arrived at her door. "Good night, Intendant. Sleep well."
/~iii~/
Using a series of solicitous 'requests,' the valet had urged Bashir out of his uniform and into a shower, then provided him with a short, grey robe and served him dinner. The doctor was ravenous--this was the first food he had had since his arrival in this universe--but with the servant's constant proximity reminding him of his hostage status, he was too nervous to enjoy it, any more than he'd been able to enjoy the shower.
He had finished his meal and was sitting, fidgeting, under the valet's watchful gaze when Garak returned.
"How is our guest, Revar?"
"He's been well-behaved, Subintendant."
The First Officer's eyes swept over him. "He's cleaned up rather nicely."
After the valet had unfastened his master's armor and helped him out of it, he was dismissed--"You may go, Revar. I won't require you again tonight."--and then they were alone.
"Has Major Kira been cooperative?" Bashir asked.
He expected to be slapped again for his impertinence, but Garak answered with a smile, "Delightfully so," and advanced toward him. "Now, it is your turn to cooperate."
Bashir was on his feet. "I don't know what you mean." But he felt a sickened pang of dismay. He did know.
The smile grew wider. "I've been thinking about you all during the Intendant's dreary celebration," Garak told him. "If...career interests had not kept me occupied, I would much rather have spent the evening here, getting better acquainted with you." As he stepped forward, Julian stepped back, around the edge of the chair where he had been sitting. "Things have gone so well tonight, I think I deserve a celebration of my own."
Julian had seen his Garak very drunk once; he recalled how deliberate the tailor's every movement had been, how carefully he had spoken to keep from slurring his words --and yet hadn't been able to restrain that sibilant S. This Garak was the same. It was obvious the man had been drinking as heavily and, feeling bored and amorous, he was now looking for some amusement at his prisoner's expense.
"You're an attractive boy. You must have been told that before." He was apparently amused by Bashir's frantic efforts to keep the chair as a barrier between them.
"Yes, I have, actually."
"While I was sitting in Quark's Place, I entertained myself with thoughts of the new Terran I had waiting in my quarters. I thought of how charming you would look once Revar had an opportunity to make you presentable." They had fully circled the chair. "I imagined every delightful thing I was going to do with you."
"That's very flattering," Julian answered, preparing to dart behind the more secure barricade of the sofa. He was playing a losing game, and he knew it. "But I'm afraid I'm really not interested."
"But _I_ am." When Bashir darted, Garak made an abrupt feint and caught him by the forearm.
Julian struggled. "I said _No_!"
Garak struck him so hard that his left ear rang and his vision was momentarily obscured by a shower of sparks. His knees went weak, but the firm grip on his arm kept him from falling. He was yanked back toward Garak. The Cardassian's other hand clamped over his nose and mouth. Disturbingly familiar blue eyes blazed into his.
"I don't mind playing games, but understand this, Terran: I can do whatever I want with you. If you resist, I promise I will make you sorry for it. If you comply, then the time you spend in my custody will be a pleasant diversion for both of us. It doesn't matter to me which choice you make, although I assume it will make a great deal of difference to you." He relaxed his grip enough to allow Bashir to breathe. His fingertips slid over the young man's cheek, then trailed down his throat. "Which will it be?"
It was rape either way.
When Garak slipped one hand to the back of his head, he shut his eyes tightly. His heart hammered like a trapped animal's as his captor devoured him with a kiss. As much as he wanted to fight, his first priority was to stay alive until Kira did whatever she had been asked to do. She was as much a hostage dependant on his cooperation as he was to hers.
It wasn't until he felt the back of his robe being bunched up at his waist and one hand slid down his bare buttock, fingers tracing the cleft in preparation to explore more deeply, that he rebelled.
"Don't!" He jolted free and scrambled backwards until he ran into the sofa. "Don't do that to me!" He climbed back over the cushions, beginning to babble in his rising panic; the Cardassian regarded him with an amazed, but strangely pleased, expression. "Garak, please-"
He was unprepared when Garak seized the front of his robe to jerk him up, then slammed him down. A shock of pain ran through him as his spine jarred and the back of his head struck the floor. A second slam knocked the breath out of him, leaving him sick and dazed.
He lay sprawled on the carpet, staring up at the closed fist suspended directly over his face.
"Is this what you really want, Terran?"
"N-no."
Not satisfied with this answer, Garak unclenched his fist to run one finger over the bridge of Bashir's nose, across his lips, and down his throat. Then he tugged at the sash of his prisoner's robe and pulled it aside, leaving the front of his body fully exposed. A hand rested on the slender chest, still rising and falling rapidly with panted breaths; his eyes remained intently on Bashir's face as he flicked his thumb over one nipple to make it rise, then pinched hard enough to force out a surprised gasp.
When a second and third equally hard tweaks failed to provoke a protest, he moved back to hook both hands under the young man's knees to lift and spread his legs wide.
Julian groaned, "Oh, god, Garak, no..."
"Quiet."
The rough exploration continued--pinching, probing, more humiliating than painful--and Garak observed him closely, waiting for a response. Bashir squirmed, even whimpered when he couldn't help it, but he did not cry out. He had struggled once, but he refused to give his tormentor any further excuse to brutalize him. This man could easily tear him to pieces if he gave him a reason to.
He realized that Garak had wanted him to resist; the Cardassian wouldn't have been happy if he hadn't been given this chance to subdue his captive and demonstrate his dominance so pointedly.
Bashir shut his eyes, not merely to try to close out what was happening to him, but also the face of the man who was doing it. The worst of this was that he was being molested by someone who looked like a friend.
"I never cease to be astonished at the sensitivity of Terran flesh," Garak said as he probed deeper, and found a spot that sent a convulsive shudder through his prisoner's body. "Incredible creatures. I can't tell if you're in agony, or if you're about to melt in my hands. You understand now, don't you, Bashir, that I can have you any way I like?"
"I understand," Julian answered through clenched teeth.
"You won't be any further trouble?"
"I won't fight you."
The fingers withdrew. "Then I suggest we continue this in the bedroom. Revar hates it when I leave a mess out here." He scooped up the unresisting human, and carried him in.
/~*~/
Kira paced restlessly in the Intendant's suite. She had not changed out of her party dress; her uniform was in her old room, and the Intendant's skin-tight leather bodysuit looked too uncomfortable and restrictive. Her attendants had left a flimsy negligee lying out for her before she'd sent them away, but she had no plans to sleep tonight.
She knew that even if she made it successfully through the next two days of this impersonation, Garak would not allow her to leave. He had already murdered one Kira Nerys. Once she'd served her purpose, why wouldn't he get rid of her as swiftly as he had dispatched her counterpart? And she only had Garak's word for it that Dr. Bashir was still alive. For all she knew, he had killed his prisoner hours ago, and was lying to her to ensure her compliance
She had to get out of here.
No guards had been placed outside her door. Garak might be monitoring her, or he might be only relying on her vulnerable position as impostor and co-conspirator in the Intendant's murder to keep her here. And, anyway, as long there was a possibility that Bashir was alive, she couldn't abandon him.
Again and again, her thoughts returned to Sisko's ship and crew. He _was_ nothing like her Commander Sisko, this former slave with his stony indifference to any- thing but his own self-interests. There was no reason why he should help her get off the station, but he was the only person she could turn to.
She went to the comm-panel to contact the Intendant's aide. "Have Benjamin sent to my quarters."
Sisko appeared at her door soon after, wary and sullen. "You wanted me, Intendant?" he asked. For all his posturing, he was afraid of her; Kira could see that. And she could use it.
"That's right, Benjamin. You and I are going to take a trip," she announced in the Intendant's purring voice.
He looked surprised. "Where to?"
"I can't tell you, not until we're on our way. I want you to take me, and one of my attendants. We'll leave tonight."
Sisko still looked puzzled, but he nodded. "My crew is already on the ship, Intendant. I'll have them prepared to depart as soon as you say."
If she were only concerned with her own escape, then Kira would consider her goal accomplished. But this had been the easy part; her next gambit was going to be more difficult.
"I have one more errand for you, Benjamin, before we go. My attendant...Garak has him."
"Garak has him?"
"You know how Garak can be--petty, spiteful. We've had a difference of opinion, and he's retaliated by taking... something very special to me." She slid into the nearest chair, pouting, and hoped she sounded like a spoiled child who had been deprived of a favorite toy. "And I want it back."
"What's so important about this 'attendant' of yours?" asked Sisko.
"Jealous, Benjamin?"
"Just wondering." He was staring at her with an openly perplexed expression.
"I don't have to explain this to you," Kira retorted.
But that was her mistake: She had already explained too much. The true Intendant would simply have given an order and expected it to be obeyed, and would have threatened Sisko with an immediate return to the mines for daring to question her.
Suddenly, Sisko burst into a smile that was very like her own commander's. "You're not her!" he crowed. "You're that other one. The other Nerys."
Caught, but hoping to salvage the situation, she admitted the truth. "Yes, I am."
"I thought you were dead." The grin dropped and he asked, "Is _she_ dead?"
Kira nodded.
"So Garak did it after all?" Sisko chuckled. "Damn! I didn't think he had the guts!"
"He's more dangerous than you think," Kira replied. "He's got all the power he wants now, with nothing to hold him back. My life is in danger if I don't get off this station, and so is Dr. Bashir's--the human officer I came here with. We have to get away. Benjamin, I need your help."
Sisko shook his head. "I told you before--I'm no hero. I got where I am today by looking out for myself. Why should I risk it for you?"
In frustration, she burst out: "I _know_ you have it in you to be a decent and honorable man. What do I have to do to make you see that there's more at stake here than you? Haven't you _once_ in your life put someone else before yourself? Ever? When you won your way out of the mines, did you ever look back at the people you left behind? Did you think about helping them? What about your family?"
"I don't have a family," Sisko answered. "They all died a long time ago. I never looked back." He slumped into a chair, frowning thoughtfully. "All right," he said after a moment, "but if I help you, there has to be something in it for me."
"What do you want?" Kira asked cautiously.
He leaned forward, his face near hers. "You said there was another Benjamin Sisko on other side. Someone you know?"
"Er- yes."
For the first time, she saw something beneath the selfishness. Intense curiosity. "Tell me about _him_."
/~*~/
Bashir lay curled on the First Officer's bed and listened to the sound of the Cardassian breathing beside him. When he thought that Garak had finally fallen asleep, he sat up and, with surreptitious glances at his captor, reached for his robe at the foot of the bed.
As he got up, he was startled by a voice behind him: "Where do you think you're going?"
"I'd like to wash up," he answered. "Do you mind?"
Garak chuckled, amused that he could still put up a show of defiance. "You have my permission," he replied and rolled to his side, turning his back to the young man.
"Thank you," Julian said tightly.
In the bathroom, he turned on the water. He would have liked to get into the shower; he _felt_ more dirty now than he had when he'd been brought up from the ore- processing center. He wanted a scalding hot spray to blast away this unclean feeling. He wanted to scrub off the outer layer of his skin and wash away the memories of the way this man, who looked and sounded so like his friend, had touched him.
A quick glance in the mirror: His face looked a little swollen from being slapped so repeatedly. He had a few bruises, some bite marks on his throat and shoulders, and it felt as if every centimeter of his body ached but, all things considered, his condition was not too bad. Garak had been too drunk to fulfill every promise of what he'd intended to do to his prisoner, and for that Julian was grateful. As horrible as this experience had been, he knew it could have been much worse.
When Subintendant Garak woke in the morning, he would be sober and eager to pick up where he had left off, but Bashir did not intend to be here.
He had submitted as long as he'd had no choice, but he couldn't endure this for an indefinite period. The Klingon guards were still stationed at the door, but Bashir had another route for escape. If he could find Major Kira, they could get the hell out of here.
He'd noticed the vent in the ceiling when he'd been in the washroom earlier, but the valet had been guarding him too closely to give him an opportunity to use it.
His torn uniform had been left on the floor, but the valet must have thrown it away, for it was not in the bathroom now. He would have to crawl about in his robe.
As quietly as he could, Julian climbed onto the toilet seat and up onto the sink counter. A careful push to lift the vent panel directly overhead, and then he pulled himself up into the narrow duct.
/~iv~/
In telling this Sisko about her commander, Kira found that she was examining her own feelings for him for the first time. It surprised her to realize how far she had come in the last two years.
Like many Bajorans, she'd had her doubts when Kai Opaka had named this Starfleet officer as Emissary. She'd resented the Federation's involvement in Bajor's affairs, and _this_ had seemed like the ultimate intrusion: not satisfied with meddling in Bajor's political situation, the Federation had to interfere in their spiritual life as well. Only her deep respect for Opaka had kept her from speaking out.
Then, as she worked with Commander Sisko, gotten to know him better and to see the kind of man he was, she'd begun to regard him in a new light. More than gaining respect for him as her commanding officer, she was beginning to wonder...
"So, you think your Benjamin Sisko really is this great leader your people have been waiting for?" the other Sisko asked.
"I don't know," Kira admitted. "Sometimes, I believe it's true. He's been touched by the Prophets--I'm sure of that much."
"And what about me? Bajor has its Prophets here too, and they haven't touched _me_."
The wormhole had not been discovered in this universe, but she would take Sisko and his ship through it tonight. If the Prophets noticed him, would they see him as the same man as her Benjamin Sisko, or as a different man with a different destiny?
"Maybe they haven't seen a reason to call upon you yet," she answered. "The Bajorans aren't oppressed here-- they're the oppressors. Maybe the ones you're meant to free are your own people."
"Me? Free the Terrans?" Sisko laughed. "I'll believe _that_ when your Prophets tell me to my face." He was skeptical, but the idea appealed to him; Kira could see that he was thinking about it.
/~*~/
The duct led to an access conduit, wider and easier for him to scramble through. Bashir crawled on until he reached the end of the conduit, and stopped just inside the hatch when he heard someone in the juncture beyond. He peeked through the ventilation grill, and relaxed when he saw it was O'Brien at work on a plasma-flow control panel.
Julian opened the hatch and climbed out. O'Brien turned, startled, and arced one eyebrow at the sight of him, as if to ask 'Now what have _you_ been up to?'
"I'm sorry," Bashir said, "but I seem to have lost my way. I don't suppose you could point me toward Landing Pad 3?" That was where they had left the runabout; he thought he had the best chance of contacting Kira from there.
"Go down that way, to the corridor, and to your left across the bridge," O'Brien answered. "But you didn't hear me say that. I never saw you." He turned back to his work.
"I could use your help," Bashir went on. "No one knows more about this station than you do--I'll bet that's just as true in this universe as it is in my own. You can override the locks on the landing bay doors-"
"No!"
"-reconfigure the transporter on the runabout-"
"I _said_ no!"
"Miles-"
O'Brien whirled. "You've no right to call me that!" he shot back at Bashir resentfully. "I'm not your friend. You're nobody to me!"
Julian sat down in the open end of the conduit, rebuffed. No, this was not Chief O'Brien; it was wrong to think that he was, to try to appeal to a friendship that did not exist.
"If they catch me, they'll kill me," he said.
"That's not my problem."
"But wouldn't you feel bad about it? My Miles O'Brien is a gentle, soft-hearted man--he pretends to be as gruff and thick-hided as a Tabalrian rhinoceros, but _I_ know better. I know how it would tear him up to see someone, even a complete stranger, die when he had it in his power to save them."
O'Brien threw down his coil spanner and huffed in exasperation, exactly the way the Chief did. "I'll do it," he said, "on one condition. If you'll take me along."
"Along?" Bashir echoed. "You mean to my universe?"
"What's to keep me here?"
Julian considered it. He could imagine the commotion it would cause if he brought another Miles O'Brien back from an alternate universe; even the Bureau of Temporal Investigations would be unprepared to handle _that_. But he couldn't leave O'Brien to face punishment for saving him. "Yes, all right. You can come with me."
/~*~/
"First Officer Garak to Intendant Kira."
Kira, forming her escape plans with Sisko, sat up. "Yes, what is it?"
"I thought you should know--your Terran friend has escaped." And the communication terminated abruptly.
She turned to Sisko. "We have to find him before Garak does."
/~*~/
They got as far as the other side of the bridge. As they rounded the corner into the main corridor of the docking ring, Bashir and O'Brien ran into a pair of Klingon guards and were immediately captured.
One of the guards slapped his communicator. "Sub- intendant, we have found the Terran, and another one with him. On Level 14, Section 37."
Garak arrived a minute later, wearing his uniform except for the breastplate and carrying a disruptor tucked into the waistband. He took in the two prisoners, his gaze lingering on Bashir, but he spoke to O'Brien first.
"The Intendant will be very disappointed, O'Brien. She has always considered you one of our most trustworthy Terran workers. And now you've thrown that all away to aid _this_-" He swept Bashir with another icily furious, contemptuous glare- "This lying little whore. What has it gotten you? Only your death. I will have to make an example of you." Then he spoke to Bashir: "As for _you_, I can't kill you yet, but I can make you wish I had."
Garak turned to the Klingons. "Return that one to my quarters, and take Theta O'Brien to the holding cells in Security. He is to be executed on the Promenade at the beginning of the Terrans' next shift, when they all can see him die, and learn from it."
The guards stepped forward to seize the prisoners, when a disruptor beam shot out from behind Garak, vaporizing one Klingon, then the other. Before the Cardassian could turn, the disruptor was pressed to the nape of his neck, and Sisko said, "You aren't going to do any- thing to them."
Eye-ridges wide, Garak raised his hands. "A rescue party? Mr. Sisko, I never suspected you had such foolhardy gallantry in you."
"Neither did I. It's been a weird night."
"Look, Garak," Kira said as she circled him and took his disruptor, "you can have the station. Just give me the doctor and let us go." She glanced at Bashir; a suspicion flickered in her mind. "Are you all right?"
"I'll be fine once we're away from here."
Kira and Sisko covering the new Cardassian Intendant of Terek Nor, they made their retreat.
"We can't use the transporters," the Major told Bashir as they fled. "We'll have to take the runabout and go back the way we came, and hope for the best." Then she said to Sisko, "Garak won't sit still. He'll send someone after us."
"I'll distract them," Sisko answered confidently. "Don't worry--my crew can always lose the Alliance ships in the Sea of Wraiths."
"Sea of Wraiths?" echoed Bashir.
"It's an old Bajoran name for the Badlands," Kira explained. They were at the door to the landing pad. "You could follow us, come back with us to our universe," she offered Sisko.
He chuckled. "I have the feeling I wouldn't fit in very well over there--and I've got some business to take care of here."
"What about you, Miles?" Bashir asked as O'Brien breached the security lock on the door.
"Smiley, why don't you come with me?" said Sisko. "I can use a good mechanic on my crew."
"Yeah, all right," O'Brien agreed. "It'll be good to work against the Alliance for a change."
Sisko grinned at Kira. "My first act for my people." The two humans ran on down the corridor toward Sisko's ship.
"I think we just started a revolution," Bashir mused, and he and Kira climbed into the runabout.
/~*~/
In the runabout, Bashir retreated into himself. Adrenalin had kept him going up to this point, but now that they were away from Terek Nor and out of immediate danger, Kira could see that he was badly shaken.
"Major?" he ventured as they raced through the wormhole. "Please, don't tell anyone what happened."
This request reinforced Kira's worst suspicions about exactly what had happened to Bashir. She'd always wanted to see the arrogant young Federation doctor get some kind of comeuppance, but _this_ was more than he deserved.
"I won't say a word," she promised. She had done some things tonight that she would prefer to forget as well.
The wormhole spun open and DS9 lay before them. As Kira punched in the course corrections to send them toward the station, the doctor asked, "Do you think that was what Garak was like during the Occupation?"
Yes, Kira thought so, but she did not say it. Bashir had been through enough already. Thankfully, they were hailed before she could compose an evasive reply.
Commander Sisko appeared on the monitor above her head. Kira could imagine how they must look to him--she in her purple party-dress, Bashir in his bathrobe--but he did not comment on their odd appearance.
"Where the hell have the two of you been?"
"Through the looking-glass, Commander," she replied. "It's good to be home."
/~*~/
Bashir returned to duty the next morning. He'd been unable to rest the night before until he'd eliminated all physical reminders of what had been done to him. He'd disposed of the robe, then got into the shower to scrub himself down. Rather than go to the Infirmary, he'd tended to his injuries in the privacy of his quarters, and filed an incomplete medical report. He'd given himself a mild sedative, but still tossed rest- lessly throughout the night. His memories were not so easily erased.
As he stepped off the lift on the Promenade, his heart shrank at the sight of Garak, on his way into Quark's for breakfast. This was a moment he'd been dreading.
The tailor gave him a smile and waved to beckon him over. Julian pretended he didn't notice, and hurried into the Infirmary.
/~*~//~*~//~*~/
Interlude
/~*~/
Bashir was having dinner late one evening alone in the Replimat, when Garak came up to his table and sat down uninvited.
"I hope you don't mind if I join you, Doctor? You've missed so many of our lunch dates recently--this will give us an opportunity to catch up."
Julian, startled, intimidated, and a little guilty at the way he'd been avoiding his friend for weeks, did not object. But he was miserable all during the meal, and picked at the food on his plate while Garak dominated the conversation. He could listen to the tailor, but he couldn't meet his eyes.
After repeated attempts to coax Bashir out of his unresponsiveness, Garak deliberately set down his fork and announced: "Doctor, we must talk, privately. Will you please come with me to my quarters?"
"No!" Julian cried. Garak's quarters here were not the same as First Officer Garak's suite on Terek Nor, but the association was too close. At the tailor's look of surprise, he added, "My quarters."
He thought that he would feel more safe on his own territory but, a few minutes later, he sat just as nervously in his own living room while Garak ordered two cups of red-leaf tea from the replicator. His voice quavered as he asked, "Wh- what did you want to talk about?"
"You," Garak replied, and got right to the point. "What's wrong, Doctor? You seem to be extremely uncomfortable in my presence lately. Have I said something to offend you?"
Bashir sighed. "It's not you, Garak."
How could he explain? Since he had returned from the mirror universe, it was difficult for him to look his friend in the face without being reminded of...that other. He tried to tell himself that _his_ Garak had nothing to do with it; his Garak would never do such a horrible thing to him, but he also thought of what Kira had said in the runabout, and he tormented himself by wondering...
When Garak handed him one of the teacups, he said, "Can I ask you a personal question? You've never told me much about your past- No, I don't want any details if you don't want to give them to me. But you were here during the Occupation, weren't you?"
"Yes," the tailor answered reluctantly, as if he were giving away too much by admitting to it. "What is it you want to know?"
"Just one thing: Have you ever raped anyone?"
Whatever questions Garak had been anticipating, this was not among them. "No, never," he answered.
"Not once?" Bashir persisted. "Not one Bajoran _ever_? You've never once put your hand over someone's mouth, and told him if he didn't cooperate you could make him very sorry?"
Garak seemed more bewildered than indignant at this oddly specific accusation. "Doctor, I assure you-" he stopped and stared at Bashir; bewilderment faded, to be replaced by- He turned away quickly to return his tea to the replicator and order something stronger, but not before Julian caught his unguarded look of shock and anger.
The tailor swallowed his kanar at once and, when he turned back, his face was clear of all expression. He spoke carefully. "I think the correct question, my dear Doctor, is not 'Have I ever done this?' but 'Who has done this to _you_?'"
Bashir lowered his eyes and refused to answer. He was aware that Garak was still watching him.
Garak went on: "I've been intrigued by that adventure you had a few weeks ago, when you and Major Kira inadvertently crossed over into an alternate universe. I have no access to the full reports, of course, but I've overheard a few interesting conversations. I've heard that, in that other reality, my counterpart was first officer of Terek Nor."
That Cardassian mind would have unraveled the mystery eventually, even without the clues that had just been thrown to him. Julian sat very still and held his breath. With the sound of his heart pounding hard in his ears, he kept his eyes fixed firmly on the carpet until Garak's feet stepped into his line of vision, directly before him.
"Julian, look at me."
Reluctantly, the young man raised his eyes.
"Garak, I'm sorry," he blurted. "It's not your fault-- it's mine-"
"No," the tailor said softly, urgently, as he crouched down before Julian's chair. "You mustn't blame yourself. You've suffered an appalling outrage, and it's only natural you should feel...vulnerable. Have you talked with anyone else about this? Confided in Commander Sisko, or perhaps Lt. Dax?"
"No, no one," Bashir shook his head. "I didn't want any- one to know. I've tried to forget all about it, but I can't stop thinking of that other universe, that other Garak. I know I'm not being fair to you, but I can't help it. I'm afraid."
"You're not responsible," Garak insisted. "_He_ is." There was a second flash of anger. "If it were in my power, every part of that man's body that has touched you would be flayed into small pieces to repay him for what he's done."
Bashir stared at him, startled and a little disturbed by the fierce emotions he was seeing. This was more than a friend's concern for his welfare.
"You'd do that?" he asked.
"To the one who's hurt you, yes. Gladly."
"But he's _you_."
"He is _not_ me," Garak responded vehemently. "We may have the same face and voice and even the same genetic structure, but there the resemblance ends. He is nothing like me, where you are concerned. Do you really believe I'm capable of doing such a thing to you?"
"I don't want to believe it," Bashir admitted. "You attacked me once before."
"I was deranged that evening. With my implant shut off, I said and did many things I would not have if I'd been myself. I regret that you were there to bear the brunt of that madness."
"You said you hated me."
"Surely you know I didn't mean that."
"Yes, I know."
He hadn't realized until now how much Garak did care for him. At one time, he would have been pleased to discover how his friend really felt; now, all he could think was that his Garak must look at him the way that other one did. He wouldn't rape him, but he wanted him that same way. Thought about touching him. Imagined having him in bed. Was some part of Garak's rage actually jealousy-- that another Garak had dared to do what he had not?
"I swear I will not harm you, my Julian," Garak told him in that same soft, reassuring tone. "You have nothing to fear from me."
He drew a little closer--To comfort? To kiss?--and Bashir recoiled, sending the barely touched cup of tea all over himself.
Garak moved back quickly; for an instant, he looked hurt and embarrassed.
"I'm sorry," Julian murmured wretchedly.
That expressionless mask was back again. "My apologies, Doctor. I didn't mean to alarm you," the tailor spoke formally as he rose from his knees. "I'll leave you now. You'll want to get out of those wet clothes as soon as possible."
As he went out the door, Julian almost called him back, but he was afraid that, if he did, Garak would mistake it for an invitation. He wasn't ready for that.
/~*~//~*~//~*~/
Part 2

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