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Tears of Time

By: ShriTal88
folder Star Trek › Deep Space 9
Rating: Adult ++
Chapters: 42
Views: 2,490
Reviews: 6
Recommended: 0
Currently Reading: 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek or any characters from Star Trek. It belongs to Paramount, CBS, Gene Roddenbury. I make no money from this.
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Chapter III

Chapter III/?



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“Get dressed in what?” Julian asked, rubbing his wrists and trying to hide himself. “And what did you put around my neck?”

 

Garak handed Julian a pair of Prussian blue trousers, trailing a hand along his shoulders lingeringly.

 

Julian held the trousers across his lap, and slid away from the fingers. He reached up to tug at the metal around his throat.

 

“Ach!” he cried, doubling forward and falling to the floor as an electric shock shot through his body. Pain shot through his knees.

 

“I would not touch that, Doctor.”

 

Julian breathed heavily, whimpering a little as he slumped forward against Garak's legs.

 

“What is it?”

 

“Just a token of my friendship. Now, you can put the pants on, or I can walk you out of this room naked. It makes no difference to me.”

 

Julian pulled the offered trousers on. His hands trembled as he fastened them.

 

“Don't I get a shirt?”

 

“No.”

 

Garak petted his hair a little more, breathing out deeply.

 

“Why do you keep doing that?” Julian asked, pulling back a little only to have the fingers tighten, pulling his hair. “You're hurting me.”

 

“You need to learn a few lessons, Doctor. I hope you are a quick student.”

 

Garak reached down and attached a leash to the collar.

 

“I'm not a pet, Garak. ACH!”

 

Julian pitched forward against Garak's legs.

 

“I prefer you address me more respectfully. Addressing your Cardassian Master by his name,” Garak tugged the leash a little, forcing Julian's head up. “At least in this setting, is unacceptable.”

 

Garak stooped briefly, slipping an arm around Julian's waist.

 

“Your disciplinary collar will take some getting used to. But I have confidence in you, Doctor. Now, I will take you home.”

 

“Why?”

 

Garak helped him up the stairs, and paused to fasten his wrists with Cardassian handcuffs.

 

“You walk on your own, from here, Doctor. And I advise silence.”

 

Garak unsealed the door with the control in his pocket.

 

Julian nodded, following Garak from the room. His genetically engineered mind was processing at warp nine as he looked around, memorizing his surroundings. He walked two steps behind Garak, noting the complete confidence of his stride.

 

The walls were gray and undecorated except for a few computer monitors at the head of each corridor that flashed with red Kardassi letters with the faint purple and green Obsidian Order emblem in the background of the screen.

 

“Where are you taking him, Garak?” a woman's voice asked.

 

Julian looked in front of him.

 

A woman with a sinister smile and bright blue color in the inverted teardrop of her forehead stood in front of them.

 

“He is coming with me, Korinas, which is all that you need to know. He is my prisoner. I can do as I please with him.”

 

“Whatever you say, Elim,” she said, sliding a hand to his shoulder. “He's not as ugly as most of his species.”

 

Garak caught her wrist and removed it from his person. He squeezed it till Korinas winced a little. He pressed one of her fingers back till there was a faint crack.

 

“Don't touch me or my possessions.”

 

Julian moved a little closer to Garak as the exchange ended. He kept his eyes on the Cardassian woman as his leash was given a sharp tug, rounding a corner.

 

Julian lost track of how many corridors they moved through and doors they passed through.

 

“AAAAARGH!” the sound of pain reverberated off the walls.

 

Julian leaped closer to Garak, grabbing his sleeve and digging his fingers into it.

 

“What was that?” he asked, breathing out heavily. “That was someone being tortured, wasn't it?”

 

“It was the sound of justice. Nothing to worry about, Doctor.” Garak extricated his arm. “I would rather not have my clothes wrinkled.”

 

This man might not be the Garak that he had known, but he was still Garak.

 

“Shall we transport, walk, or take a cruiser?” Garak asked, stopping at the door. “Transporter might be best for today.”

 

Garak led him up onto the pad. He gave the leash a sharp tug so Julian stumbled forward into his arms.

 

Garak gave the operator the coordinates he wished to go, and Julian felt the tingle of dematerialization.



 

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