Enemies, a love story

by Ratwoman

Disclaimer: Deep Space Nine and Cardassia belong to Paramount.

Fandom: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine

Pairing: Dukat/Garak

Ratings: NC-17 m/m sex, Rape warning! If you're a fan of fluffy, happy Starfleet stories, don't
read this. (BTW, the Federation is not even mentioned in this story.)

Notes: This story has absolutely nothing to do with Isaac Singer's novel "Enemies, a love story";
I just borrowed the title.

Prologue and epilogue are set in season 5, a few weeks before the ep "A call to the arms". The
main narrative is set about 30 years earlier.

Plot Summary: Garak teaches a young, naive Dukat a hard lesson about Cardassian jurisdiction.

PROLOGUE

Dukat leaned onto the railing and stared across the promenade deck towards the place where his
daughter and his worst enemy were standing.

He had thought, Zyal would be safe on Deep Space Nine, despite the fact that Garak was in exile
here. He had warned her of Garak. 'He's an evil man. He tortured, killed my father, your grandfather. He cheated him.' He betrayed me. He...

Dukat thought that he should have known that children never listen to their fathers. She would make her own experiences, and there was no way he could save her from getting hurt.

Garak saw him standing on the gallery, met his gaze and smiled mockingly. All Dukat could hope for was that Garak wouldn't find a way to hurt her. At least not as deep as Garak had hurt him.

Dukat looked around in the room full of people. He had returned to Cardassia in time to be at the party for his father's promotion. Dukat Senior had reached the highest position possible for a military man, just a few years before his retirement. He was member of the Central Command now. Dukat smiled proudly. His father had made a career, and he himself would sure as hell prosper too. Being the new prefect of Bajor was only the lowest step in his career.

He chatted with a few ladies who of course admired him. He had brought new glory to Cardassia on Bajor: the profit for once was much higher than the costs. Only the rebellions were as frequent
as ever.

Rebellions... stupid Bajorans, they should be glad that they had him. One of the first things he had arranged when he became prefect had been providing better food and better medical care for the Bajoran slaves, and how did they 'thank' him? By another assassin's attempt!

The women admired his mildness when he mentioned that the punishment he had inflicted on the
rebels had not been very hard.

As much as Dukat enjoyed the admiration of the women, he didn't concentrate fully on them. Part
of his attention scanned the room for people who could be helpful for his career, for people he
should inform himself about.

Indeed, there was a face he didn't know yet. The man looked straight at him; intense blue eyes, a mysterious smile... Dukat's interest was awakened.

In a friendly manner he said good-bye to the ladies and went over to that interesting man.

*

So this was Gul Dukat. Of course, Garak had seen him before; on pictures, holo-tapes. Even if he
had not been prepared so well for his case, he would have known how the soldier and war-hero
looked like. Except that he looked even better in flesh and blood.

"I've never seen you here before." Dukat started the conversation. Here meant his father's house.

"I got to know your father last Victoria festival." Garak answered. A sharp gaze showed him that
Dukat had noticed that he already knew who he was. But Dukat was quite popular if one was
interested in the military.

"You must have been on Terek Nor then." Garak added, flattering Dukat's pride by showing him
that he was informed about him.

"And you are...?" Dukat wanted to know.

Garak told him the same fake name he had told his father: "Toran Walok."

For a man as self-centered as Dukat he spent a surprisingly long time questioning Garak: about
what he was doing, where he came from, how good he knew his father. Of course, Garak had a
detailed story about being a young, ambitious politician; the same he had told Dukat's father. Good, very good, Dukat's interest was awakened, now he began to tangle himself in the net Garak had spread out for him.

Enabran Tain would be proud of him.

*

Dukat had a very entertaining conversation with that young politician. He was bright, intelligent,
knew how to use words... they were talking for hours, only briefly interrupted by his father, who seemed to be very pleased to see him getting friends with Toran. Dukat thought that his father saw in Toran not just interesting conversation, but also a good opportunity to support his son's career. Dukat's father was even more ambitious than he. Their reasons differed, too.

His father merely wanted power; Dukat on first place wanted recognition. He wanted people to
respect him, to admire him, to love him. He craved for affection; and when his childhood and his
ambitious parents had taught him one thing, it was that the only way for getting affection was
being successful.

*

It was getting late. They were talking about art now, discussing several Cardassian painters. Garak was a bit surprised about Dukat's knowledge. He had known that he was educated, but he
hadn't expected him to be so interested.

Garak too started to be interested - in Dukat. 'If possible, sleep with him.' Enabran Tain had
ordered him. This could become more pleasant than Garak had expected it to be.

*

"How long will you be on Cardassia?" Toran asked him.

"Only today." Dukat answered. "I have to fly back to Terek Nor tomorrow."

"So soon." Toran answered with regret. Then he looked straight into Dukat's eyes, offering.

Dukat had been involved with men before; he liked men, not more than women, but he did. He knew that look in Toran's eyes, noticed the offer. And Dukat took any form of affection he could get.

"Let's go." he said huskily.

*

Dukat led Garak to the library. Very good, Garak had already installed cameras here. He would
get some good shots on Dukat. Garak grinned inwardly at the double meaning.

Right after Dukat had locked the door they started kissing passionately, and for a moment Garak
had the ridiculous thought that Dukat might find the capsule with poison for emergencies that was implanted in his tooth.

They moved to the big desk at the opposite wall while they were tearing off each others clothes,
never breaking contact. Garak left Dukat the active role; a true conqueror, the soldier lifted him onto the desk, licking his way down Garak's neck along the line of cartilage, visibly pleased about the way Garak writhed beneath him. Garak didn't have to fake any of his reactions as Dukat's clever tongue moved down his chest, flicking over his nipples, travelled down his stomach, lapping his navel. Then Dukat licked tentatively along the length of Garak's shaft, elicting him a low moan. He lingered on there for awhile until Garak begged for more. Dukat turned Garak around, using Garak's and his own precum as lubricant. Garak moaned in pleasure and pushed back as Dukat's fingers entered his behind. Dukat took his time; only when Garak begged to be fucked he removed his fingers and slowly shoved his cock in, inch for inch. Dukat paused, giving his lover time to get used to his shaft, then started to move in and out, gently at first, but getting faster and faster when Garak moved his hips to meet his thrusts. Dukat wrapped his fist around Garak's cock, jerking him off. Garak came first, with a loud scream dispersing his semen over the desk. His convulsing muscles send Dukat over the edge and he came, too, biting into Garak's shoulder to stifle his scream.

Dukat carefully stepped back, his now soft cock sliding out.

"Toran?" he asked, worried because Garak was still leaning onto the desk. Garak's knees were weak, he had seen stars and almost passed out. All in all, he had enjoyed it much more than
expected.

He didn't lie when he told Dukat that he was a fantastic lover.

*

Weeks had passed since his encounter with Toran. Easily set on fire, Dukat spent his nights
thinking about Toran, longing for his voice, his eyes, his touch. Dukat was in love, in the same
unsteady, surficial way he had been in love uncountable times before, and would be uncountable
times in his life. He loved Toran for the admiration in his eyes, for the affection in his touch, for anything that made Dukat feel greater.

The days were filled with the usual routine on Terek Nor, one day granting the workers an extra-ration food, the next day punishing them for rebellious acts by shortening the food supply.

Grown up in a society that legitimized colonization he still believed that it was possible to make slaves to friends if one was a benevolent and fair master. He couldn't understand why the Bajorans kept on resisting even though he did his best to improve their situation.

Dukat sat in his office, brooding over this incongruency, when the door opened and a soldier
entered.

"Sir, there is a visitor for you." he said and stepped aside to let him in. A good-looking young man, blue eyes sparkling with wit and a mysterious smile.

"Toran!" Dukat called out, jumping to his feet.

The soldier silently left the office. Even after the door closed, Dukat and Toran only dared to hug. Later, in private, they could do more.

"How did you get here?" Dukat asked.

"Flight 407" Toran answered. The diplomat's ship. Dukat must have overread Toran's name on the passenger's list.

"I have to visit Bajor for a political conference, so I thought, why not visit the sexiest man glorious Cardassia begot."

Dukat laughed. "You're a false flatterer." he said playfully, trying to hide just how much that
answer pleased him.

*

Dukat proudly showed Garak his station, not without lamenting over all the things he wished to get better during the time. After dinner, Dukat brought Garak to his private quarters. Garak was looking forward to sleeping with Dukat again, on the other hand he was anxious for what would
inevitably come afterwards. For a moment he almost felt sorry for Dukat; then again, it was his own fault if he was stupid enough to trust Garak.

*

They merely had entered the bedroom when they already started undressing one another. Their
love-making was passionate, yet gentle. Hands and lips explored each inch of each other's body,
teeth biting gently. With his knees bent to his chest, Dukat finally let his lover take him to the culmination of pleasure, shuddering into orgasm as his lover pounded into him again and again. Filled with supreme happiness, Dukat drifted into sleep right afterwards.

*

Garak waited until Dukat had fallen asleep. Dukat certainly was a good lover. He not only knew
what he wanted, he also knew how to please.

It was a shame that this should be the last time that they had sex.

Garak stood up and quietly took on his clothes. A phaser in his hand, for the case that Dukat
awoke, he walked over to the computer console and started to copy files on a data chip, anything
that could be useful.

Dukat had a very deep sleep, Garak could finish without awakening him. Finally there was nothing left to do than destroying Dukat's illusions about a developing relationship.

Garak cleared his throat. Pointing the phaser at the sleeping man, he called his name.

Dukat awoke slowly, looking disoriented for a moment. His eyes widened in disbelief when he saw Garak pointing a weapon against him.

"Toran?" he asked.

Garak shook his head. "My name is Elim." he said. "Elim Garak."

*

Dukat stared at him in shock. Elim Garak! Of course he knew that name. A dangerous agent of the Obsidian Council, who had somehow managed to avoid pictures or holo-tapes of him. Nobody knew how he looked, some even believed he was only a legend. A very frightening legend. Enabran Tain's favorite student, a top-agent, who could find out everything. Who would leave a trace of corpses and broken men on his way.

Dukat closed his eyes in denial. This couldn't be true. "Toran, if this is a joke of some kind..."

His 'lover' interrupted him in a harsh voice. "We'll be beamed on a Council's ship as soon as I activate the transporter. Maybe you'd like to take on some clothes first."

Dukat fought the sudden emptiness in his head as he slipped into his uniform. Gods almighty,
what should he do? What could he do?

Maybe...maybe he wasn't really in danger. He hadn't done anything wrong, so maybe this was all
but a big misunderstanding.

Garak didn't say a word as he stepped nearer and activated the small manual transporter he had
with him. They rematerialised in a dark, grey hall, a number of members of the council around,
featuring even the man everyone on Cardassia hated and feared. Enabran Tain.

Dukat took a deep breath and tried not to show his fear as he turned directly to Tain and said:

"I'm sure this is all a big misunderstanding. If you would please tell me what is going on, so I
could resolve it and return to my work."

Enabran Tain just ignored him. "Good work, Garak." he said. "Now we have both father and son."

This remark was certainly willingly placed in Dukat's presence, and it fully hit its intent.

"My father?" Dukat shouted. "What have you done to my father?"

Taine just turned to two guards and ordered them to take Dukat to room 102. Too confused to
think clear, Dukat tried to resist the guards, shouting at Taine that he should tell him what was going on, but one of the guards hit him into the guts with an electro-stab, leaving him limp and helpless. They tugged and shoved him through several corridors, finally stopping at a door and pushed him into a small room.

The light was dim and the air was cool in here. An elder man was leaning onto a table, arms
folded over his chest. After the guards had closed the door and positioned themselves on each
side of Dukat, he said: "Take off the uniform."

It was a normal custom on Cardassia to force the interrogated to be naked, due to the psychological effect of feeling exposed, vulnerable. Dukat knew that and to avoid the humiliation of the guards tearing off his clothes he quickly obeyed the order.

Knowing of the psychological effects didn't make him feel less embarrassed when the inquisitor took a few steps towards him, then walked around him in a circle to inspect him from all sides
like a piece of meat.

"Nice." he finally said. "That faggot Garak must have found you very entertaining." Dukat closed
his eyes in denial. This all could only be a nightmare and he would wake up any second with his
lover beside him. He'd tell Toran about his stupid nightmare and they'd laugh at its absurdity.

A blow into the guts brought him brutally back into reality.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" the inquisitor shouted.

Remembering something, Dukat heard himself ask: "Where's my father?"

It only brought him another blow that cut off his air supply. "I'm the one who's asking questions,
do you understand?"

Dukat gazed at the man, hatred in his eyes. Gasping for breath, he tried to straighten up. Damn,
he was prefect of Bajor, how could they dare to treat him like that?

"What have you done to my father?" he asked once again.

This time the interrogator slapped hard his face. "Don't talk unless you are asked." he said calmly.

Dukat felt warm blood dropping out of his nose as the man said: "Now tell me everything about
yours and your father's bribe."

Bribe? "Neither I nor my father ever took money from anyone." Dukat replied.

He was answered with another blow in the face. "I'm not talking about the money you took. I'm
talking about the money you paid to improve your career."

He should have corrupted others? "I never..." Dukat began.

The inquisitor slapped him once again. "Wrong answer." he calmly said. "What I want to hear are
names, places, dates, and the sums you paid."

Dukat had never tried unproper ways for his career, he was ambitious to be successful only because of his talents. Could his father? Damn, he really could have done anything for his son.

"I'm waiting for your answers." the inquisitor said impatiently.

"Fuck you!" Dukat hissed.

The inquisitor stared at him in feigned astonishment. "I doubt that!" With a quick movement he stepped right behind Dukat. The soldier gasped as he felt rough fingers clawing into his behind.

"How many times did you allow Garak to fuck you?" the inquisitor hissed, before he pushed a finger into Dukat's opening. Dukat clenched his teeth and wished once more to wake up from this
nightmare.

"How many men did you have already?" the investigator hissed into his ear. Twisting his finger, he asked: "How do you like this?"

Dukat felt sick, desperate, ashamed, exposed and angry. Fervently searching for a way to stop that man, he decided to try it with provocation: "How long did you wait for an opportunity to fuck me?"

Undignified, the inquisitor took a step back. Gazing directly at him, Dukat added: "You seem to be very eager to do so."

If he was as correct as Dukat thought, he couldn't touch him as long as there was the accusation of being queer himself; he also couldn't let such an insult stay unpunished.

One glance at the guards was enough to tell them what to do. One knocked him to the ground with a primitive baton, the other one kicked him violently.

Dukat rolled to the side and formed a ball to protect head and stomach when hard kicks with the boots and hits with the batons rained down on him.

*

Dukat woke up in a cell with blank grey walls, there was not even a cot to lie on. The light was
blinding, the temperature icy cold on his naked skin. The only things in that cell were a surveillance camera at the ceiling and a mounting for chains on the wall, opposite to the massive door.

Dukat sat up and looked at the mounting, swallowing hard. There was actually no use for chains,
the prisons of the Councils were safe, nobody could escape. Never. If they would decide to tie him up, it would be for the psychological effets.

Dukat resisted the temptation to search for a way out - he knew there was none, and he was under surveillance anyway, so he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. He hurt where the boots had hit him, but he was a soldier, he had gone through worse. They would torture him, then judge him and bring him to court. His career was already over.

Were they going to execute him? But all the accusations they made were false. Cardassian courts
would not execute an innocent person.

He had slept with Garak, so they could accuse him of homosexuality, but that didn't stand under death penalty.

Dukat found new strength in the confidence in the justice of Cardassian jurisdiction. He had not done anything to justify a trial, sooner or later they would have to let him go. Perhaps he would be degraded at first, but ready to win back his old position. The social disgrace would be hard to bear, true. And one day he would make Garak pay for it.

Dukat's belief in Cardassian justice would be shaken hard in the following weeks.

*

Garak switched off the holo-tape of Dukat's first interrogation, surprised about the sudden urge to beat someone. He told himself that his anger resulted in the fact that he thought it was not a good idea to make the prefect of Bajor to an enemy. He knew Dukat a bit by now, he was ambitious enough to raise to an even higher position, and he was proud enough to use any possibility of revenge for any kind of humiliation. The Dukat's were too powerful to make them enemies.

Gazing annoyedly at Taine, Garak asked: "Maybe I'm misinformed, but the government still wants Dukat to be prefect, don't they?"

"As long as we don't find any serious failure on Dukat's side, yes." his mentor answered.

"And you think we'll find something to eliminate Dukat?" Garak questioned.

"Not to eliminate him, to keep him in check." Enabrain said. "Some smaller failures; his homosexuality, his father's activities. Enough to control him."

So it was about blackmail, to have some knowledge to use against him. He had been wrong; the
Dukats were not too powerful to make enemies with them; they were too powerful to leave them
uncontrolled.

"Will Dukat's father be executed?" Garak asked.

"Sooner or later." Taine answered. "When we reach Cardassia," he added, " you will take over
Dukat senior's interrogation. I'm sure you'll get him to sign anything."

Garak obediently nodded his head. Of course he would do his best; he always did.

*

Dukat didn't know how much time had passed until he was brought into that inquisition room again. Enough time for one meal that a silent guard had brought him. Enough time to regret the fact that there was no toilet in his cell and he did have to pee in a corner.

Now Dukat was 'really' angry. He was Gul Dukat, prefect of Bajor, son of Legat Dukat, they had
no right to treat him that way! He stared at the inquisitor with a look of arrogant contempt, raised highly as if unaware of his nudity, his vulnerability. The inquisitor, sitting at his desk, ignored him completely at first, going through his files. Finally he looked up, as if just now he noticed that Dukat was there.

As if taking a testimony, he asked: "Names, places, dates, amounts of money?"

Dukat answered: "I demand that you let me go, now!"

The inquisitor almost looked amused and wrote something in his notebook.

"I'm willing to do without an official complaint if you take me back to my station now. You'll find out anyway that this is all a mistake, so LET ME GO BEFORE I REALLY GET ANGRY!" Dukat shouted.

Dukat felt a sharp pain and almost collapsed as one of the guards hit him in the side with an electro stab. As the aftershocks subsided, he turned to the inquisitor as if nothing had happened.

"I'll make you personally responsible for the way I have been treated." he menaced with all his authority.

The inquisitor was not impressed. "You've been treated very mild until now." he said calmly. "I intended to wait a bit longer before I start with painful methods, but since you show no sign of cooperation ..." the inquisitor let the sentence trail off while he stood up and opened a small door in the wall. Rudely the guards pushed Dukat into the following room. It was empty except of a chair fitted out with all kinds of chains and cables, and a console.

Suddenly frightened Dukat stopped at the door, but then he felt a sharp pain and almost swooned as the guards electrocuted him with their stabs. Dizzily Dukat felt himself being dragged to the chair and being buckled and cabled fast and efficiently. Dukat tried to move, but there was no
space left.

Sweat of pain broke out on his forehead. Dukat closed his eyes and repeated some of the concentration exercises he had learnt during his training. Ignoring the inquisitor's questions he tried to get into a state of trance. His efforts were interrupted by a burning pain that seemed to go through his whole body at once. After an eternity the pain subsided and Dukat found himself staring at the ceiling and listening to the echoes of his screams.

"To make it easier for you," the inquisitor said, "we've prepared a list with names. I read them out and you tell me whether they were the people you paid."

*

Garak had also watched the holo-tape of Gul Dukat's second interrogation, wondering why it made him so uneasy. Perhaps he just needed something to do; soon they'd reach Cardassia and he would have plenty of work to do with the older Dukat. But why made the thought of torturing Dukat's father his stomach turn? Damn, the Dukat's were a job for him, nothing more.

Sure, sleeping with Dukat had been pleasant; Dukat had a nice body and he had enjoyed having sex with him, but that did not mean that he had invested any feelings in that case.

Feelings were nothing Garak could need in his job.

*

Dukat lost any feelings of time in the following days? Weeks? Months? The cells of the Obsidian
Council all looked the same, whether on the ships or on Cardassia. He thought that they must be
on Cardassia by now, judging by the number of meals they'd served him. But they never seemed to give him enough food and the temperature was constantly too low. Dukat wondered whether he would ever get used to the cold, but he was freezing all the time and it got harder and harder to
control the shivering when he was questioned. He still had his pride left; he wouldn't show them
that he was cold, and he tried hard not to show the pain. They put him through all kinds of torture, but all those of the refined methods that would cause incredible pain without leaving visible wounds.

There was more to break a Cardassian soldier. At least that was what Dukat told himself whenever the pain was almost unbearable and he was close to telling them anything they wanted to know. Alone in the cell he often wondered why they didn't just take the easy method - fill him with drugs that would make him sign anything. But at least, as long as they didn't do that, they
didn't have his signature on fatal documents.

*

Garak entered Enabran Tain's office, unceremoniously throwing a holo-tape of his last interrogation onto the table. Taine looked surprised and Garak tried to hide just how ... disgusted?... exhausted?... angry? That case made him feel.

"He'll sign his testimony and pledge for guilty at court if only we spare his son." Garak reported with a hint of anger in his voice.

Taine laughed. "If he knew that we didn't plan to destroy his son's life anyway.... So he traded his life for his son's." Taine looked thoughtful. "What a foolish thing to do."

Without thinking forward, Garak spat out: "Maybe he just loves his son!"

Garak held his breath, fearing and hoping for a reply. They were alone; if there was a time when
Enabran Tain could admit that he, too, loved his son Elim Garak, even if he was an illegitimate
child and he couldn't openly stand to him, then it was here and now. The moment passed without
Taine's answer.

"The trial will be in two days." Taine said instead.

*

When Dukat was in his cell, he spent most of the time fantasizing, imagining that the Council decided that arresting him had been a big mistake, and that they not only let him go, but crawled at his feet begging for forgiveness. He dreamed of taking terrible revenge on them, crushing them under his feet. Or maybe he would mercifully forgive them. These images gave him the strength to hold on.

Yet sometimes he couldn't help and pictures of Toran - Garak - rescuing him invaded his mind. Of Garak apologizing, telling him that he regretted what he had done, fleeing with him. Dukat knew this would never happen and saw it as pure weakness even only imagining it. Garak had never felt anything for him, and right now he was probably laughing at him, taking relish in the fact that Dukat had been so foolish about him. That he had been in love with him, with his eyes, his smile, his voice, his witful remarks... And he had really believed that Garak felt the same for him.

*
Some day Dukat noticed sullenly that the guards didn't bring him to the usual interrogation room.
This time they chained him to a chair in front of a big holo-screen. Did they intend to torture
him with pictures? Shouldn't be too frightening, yet he felt a knot of foreboding in his stomach. When the broadcast started, showing the Glorious Cardassian Court Halls, Dukat almost felt sick.
They hadn't brought his father to trial, had they?

The screen was filled by the face of the judge, a grey-haired, severe looking woman.

"The process against Legat Prolin Dukat is opened." she said coldly, confirming Gul Dukat's worst presentiments. "The charge is high treason, the sentence is death penalty."

Dukat could only stare at the screen, denying that this was really happening. Only the guilty were brought to court. Which meant, Dukat suddenly realized, the ones who confessed, whether they confessed their guilt or just what the Council told them to confess. And there was no hope left for
the accused. Nobody ever had been proved not guilty.

Dukat watched the trial in silence, trying not to show how much the scenes stirred him up. He was shocked when he saw his father - he had changed so much that he could hardly recognize
the strong, impressive man he had once been. He was thin, as if starving, and his hunched posture was that of an old man. When the screen showed his face in close-up as he was reading out his
confession, Dukat could see that his eyes had lost their fire and his skin was almost white. He read out his text in a flat, monotone voice, as if he didn't mind at all about it. Dukat registered with disbelief all the crimes he admitted: bribe, treason, even political murder. He couldn't really have done all these things, could he? Then his father's voice grew more persistent as he confirmed that he had done all this w i t h o u t his son's knowledge.

Dukat was confused. It was true that he hadn't known anything, but why did the Council allow his father to say that? When they could have accused both, independent form the truth. The recognition that his father had bought him free by his confession hit Dukat like a bolt.

The usual speech of the public prosecutor followed, where he referred to the hugeness of the
crime and that it could only be discovered by the legendary Elim Garak. Dukat didn't listen anymore when his father's advocate was holding his obligatory apologia. Instead, he thought
of Garak, how he had lured them into his trap. Dukat remembered with a sardonic smile that he
was one of the few people who knew how Garak looked. He even knew how good he could fuck.

One day he would take revenge. That means, if he survived next week.

The guilt was shown, the trial was closed. Dukat's father was doomed to die a painful death.

Dukat didn't move when the screen was switched off. He didn't move either when they removed the chains. Just as they were forcing him to stand up, he awoke of his apathy.

He had already beaten down one of the guards when the other one attacked him with an electro stab. Like in a fury Dukat fought back, trying to wrestle with the guard and conquer the stab, until half a dozen men entered the room, hitting him with stabs and boots until the world went black.

*

Garak sat sprawled in his armchair in his office, wondering whether he was getting seriously ill.
He often felt nauseated right after a killing, but hours had passed since old Dukat's death, he should not feel so sick anymore. Was that remorse? No, why should he feel remorse for simply
doing his job. Damn, he really couldn't need any weakness!

Garak noticed with a sigh that he was called to Taine's office. Couldn't he wait for his report until
tomorrow? Unwillingly he raised from his chair and went over to his boss's and father's office.

Enabran Tain looked up from his work when Garak entered the room, gazing inspectingly at him.

"It's time to end the case of Dukat."

Garak frowned. "Legat Dukat died two and a half hours ago upon my hand." he answered.
"Gul Dukat is Lorak's case."

"Not anymore." Taine said. "I transfer it to you."

"But..." Garak said puzzled. "I thought it's over. All that's left to do is setting Dukat free."

"Not quite." Taine answered. "Before we let him go, we'll have to make sure that he has learned
his lesson. He has to know that we have enough against him to destroy his reputation and his career. And he has to know that he better won't mess with us. Show him what we are able to
do, so that he'll be too afraid to take revenge."

Garak really didn't understand. What more did Taine want him to do? "He's been tortured, his father killed - Dukat knows quite well what we can do." Garak answered.

"He's not been raped yet." Taine replied coldly.

Garak's stomach turned. "You want me to rape him?"

"I want you to break him." Taine replied.

Garak shook his head. He couldn't do that. "It will only make him determined to take revenge
one day."

"Are you afraid of his revenge?" Taine mocked. "Or do you have a weakness for him?"

Garak started understanding. This was not about breaking Dukat; it was about himself, a test, if he was strong and hard enough for his job. If he could lay feelings aside to do what he ought to.

Garak swallowed hard. "No, of course not." he said, while something inside him was freezing over. "I'll do whatever is best for the Obsidian Council." With these words he left the office.

*

Garak hadn't seen Dukat for awhile. When he entered the cell he was appalled by the grey figure huddled in a corner. Dukat had always been lean, but now his rips were standing out against his pale skin.

Garak realized with shock that he actually felt pity for the man. Damn, that would make what he had to do so much harder. Dukat raised his head when Garak crouched down in front of him. His eyes were dumb, but life seemed to return to them when he recognized Garak.

"You're in luck, Dukat." Garak said sarcastically. "Your father chose to die for you. We will
let you go - this time."

Dukat didn't answer, just stared at him with anger and pain in his eyes.

"But if you ever do something that crosses our plans, we have enough to destroy you reputation, career, life."

Still Dukat only stared at him.

"Just to name the most harmless example, it would be no good if the tape of us in your father's library became public."

Garak was almost sure he saw tears glittering in Dukat's eyes. And then he even spoke: "I loved
you once." Dukat whispered.

Garak felt a strange pain choking his breast. He stood up, half-deciding to tell Taine that he couldn't do this. Then his gaze fell to the surveillance camera. Certainly Taine was watching him now, judging every movement, deciding whether he was worth being his son. If he failed now, he would never gain his father's acceptance. Garak closed his eyes and tried to steel himself for what would come next.

*
Dukat had listened dumbly to Garak's words, knowing that nothing Garak could do or say
could hurt him anymore - or take away the pain. His father was dead, killed by the man he had
loved. What more could they do to him?

Garak stood up, as if about to leave the cell. Fine, Dukat didn't want to have to see the face of the man who had betrayed him any longer.

The attack came totally out of the blue. Dukat was hurled around, his elbows crushing hard onto the floor as he was positioned on all fours. Dukat tried to straighten up, but Garak grabbed his neck and pushed him to the ground. The recognition of what Garak was intending to do hit Dukat like a bolt when he heard him opening his pants. Horrified, Dukat tried to rear against the hand holding him down and thrashed about wildly; but not only was he weakened by the weeks of imprisonment, but also was Garak prepared for his defense and pushed him down heavily, Dukat's head hitting hard the floor, leaving him dizzy. Dukat registered with nausea that Garak was kicking his legs apart, rendering him to a vulnerable, undignified position. Dukat couldn't choose but cry in pain when Garak penetrated him with a number of short, hard thrusts. The soldier bit on his fist to stifle his screams when Garak repeatedly moved in and out, staring at the blank floor, searching for patterns on which he could focuse to distance himself from the rape. But like many things they had taught him at the academy, it worked better in theory than in practise.

It couldn't have lasted much longer than a minute, but for Dukat it seemed as if hours passed until he felt Garak's semen dispersing into him, soiling him. Dukat rolled to the side when Garak's cock slid out and he stepped back.

*

Garak stuffed his member back into his pants, feeling nothing but an emptiness. He looked
down at Dukat who lied curled up on the floor, staring into nothing. Garak quickly repressed
upcoming feelings of guilt. It was one more sin on his list of crimes, nothing more. And Enabran
Tain was responsible for it.

Garak left the cell, walking with a stonen face to the safety of his office. There he entered his
small bathroom and started vomiting.

*

Dukat was sent back to his post on Terek Nor a few days later. He gave no explanation to
his officers, just went back to work as if nothing had happened.

He could feel the glances they threw at him when they thought he didn't look. Of course, they
wondered what had happened. Of course they knew about his father's death, and of course they
assumed that he had been interrogated, too. Of course they saw that he looked as if he needed
urgently a vacation. And of course he threw himself into his work instead.

Dukat knew it was only a post-trauma-syndrom, but he felt as if they all could see that he had
been raped.

Dukat was determined to take revenge one day. As soon as he regained control over his life.

EPILOGUE

Dukat had taken revenge, thoroughly. Garak had survived, but life was all that was left to him.
Doomed to exile, the only place where he could live was Deep Space Nine.

Ironically, the same was true for Dukat's daughter Zyal. Half-Cardassian, half-Bajoran, she belonged to neither, being despised from both sides.

Garak knew quite well that the only reason why Zyal felt drawn to him was the fact that they both
were outcasts. Else she would never have talked to him - he was not only old enough to be her
father, he also had tortured and murdered her grandfather, and to her father... he had done worse
things, but he doubted that Dukat had told her about that.

For years Garak had suppressed his feelings of guilt towards Dukat. It was easier to hate, to hate
him for taking revenge.

But Zyal had moved something in him. In some ways she was so much like her father: beautiful,
proud, ambitious, intelligent. But where Dukat's pride had turned to arrogance, his ambition to
ruthlessness, his intelligence to deceitfulness, she had kept herself a touch of innocence.

Garak didn't blame Dukat for what he was. One couldn't survive on Cardassia without losing one's scruple. He just wished he hadn't been the one who had taught Dukat that lesson.

So when Garak saw Dukat standing on the gallery staring at them, he just tried to hide his feelings of guilt with a mocking smile.

***END***