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Garak’s mind woke up first, but his body’s consciousness lagged behind. All he could do was watch playbacks in his mind of the nightmare he had woken from. He was too paralysed from sleep and fear to try and roll over.
CRASH
Lightning lit the darkness behind his closed eyelids. He was too fearful of the world beyond them to try and open them.
BOOM
The bed shook with the clap of thunder. Garak’s mind moved from the terror of his subconscious, and towards trying to figure out where he was. He replayed the previous day in his mind. His orders. The shuttle. Walking through the jungle.
Pythas Lok.
He remembered meeting Pythas for the first time in so many years. He was at his house, in his bed. Garak had started to wiggle his toes and legs in an effort to break his body free of its sleepy topor. He was successful in bridging his hands to his face. He was alive. Garak’s body had finally started to wake up. Now it was time for him to find the courage to open his eyes.
CRASH
Lightning flooded the room yet again. The thought of his nightmare was brought back to him, and he recounted the events of his terror. He was on Cardassia Prime, in Tain’s home. He remembered he was sitting on the floor of a dark room. A closet. He was a child again. The must of old clothing burned his nostrils, and stacks of Tain’s poetry towered over him. There wasn't enough room for Garak to stretch his whole body, which caused his back and muscles to ache. His bare feet were chilled by the cold tile.
He couldn’t remember what he had done to deserve this. He supposed it didn't matter what he had done. It was all the same to Uncle Enabran. He remembered calling out for him as audibly as it would if it were real. His tears were hot enough to be real.
“Uncle!” He cried, but there wasn't a response. There never was when he was locked away like this.
The last thing he remembered was the light coming through the bottom of the door. He couldn't recall how he got out.
Suddenly, he was outside in the Tarlac Center. He was on the route Tain always took him on when they went for observational walks, as a child. But Tain wasn't with him. Garak was frightened by the almost instinctual knowledge that Tain was instead searching for him. He must’ve found out that Garak has escaped his cramped closet. When he found him, Tain would not be so generous with the next punishment.
The fear of what might happen to him prompted him to start to run. The Tarlac Center was uncharacteristically completely abandoned; he had no reason to feel shame in acting so emotionally in a public space. Still, among the emptiness, he sensed the presence of someone else approaching. It had to be him. Uncle Tain.
Garak made his way to the shops along the road in an effort to secure sanctuary to hide from the inevitable beating. He tried to find his way into a botanical shop, but the heavy doors only moved a little bit, signifying the dismaying truth that they were, in fact, locked. His stomach sank and swelled with impending mortal doom.
He made his way into an alley to collect himself and slid his body along the clay and stucco walls of the tall buildings. He followed the aley as it turned a corner and he was faced with a dead-end, and a door. At first, Garak was hesitant to try to open it in the fear that it would be locked (if it was, the dead-end nature of the alley meant he was sure to be cornered). He figured he’d at least try his luck before being finally confronted by Tain. Garak approached the door and tried the unassuming knob. The door clicked and slid ajar. He walked into the dim room before him and shut the door behind him to cover himself from Tain’s approach. He let his eyes adjust to the indoor lighting and was confronted by statues and paintings he realized that he recognized, featuring ancient Cardassians. The Hebitians. Garak had found himself in the meetinghouse of the Orelian Way. He scanned the room for signs of life. Anyone. Anyone who could hide him, but no one was to be seen. His eyes traced the art-covered walls to the stony pulpit that centered the room. Behind it in the shadows, stood a figure wearing a Hebetian mask similar to the one Tolan had given him before passing. The figure’s mouth, which was not covered by the mask, formed the charismatic smile that had haunted Garak’s entire life.
“It seems I've found you, Elim.”
Tain removed the mask and set it on the pulpit as he made his way towards Garak. He knew what was coming. Garak watched Tain’s face flash before him one more time as he opened his eyes.
Pythas’ room was as dark as could be. His eyes began to adjust to the blackness and tried to process his surroundings, and was cautious in surveying the room, still fearing the presence of his pursuer. He could only make out the vague shadows of furniture. Across from his position in bed sat Pythas’ bookshelf, and to the right of it stood a towering wardrobe.
Garak pulled the blankets closer towards his face to hide himself, and turned his head to the window on the left side of the bed. He watched as it lit up with another flash of lightning. He observed how it lit up the rest of the room, allowing him to fully take in the setting. Alas, no pursuers that he could see. The lightning faded as quickly as it came, and Garak was in darkness yet again. Almost. He turned his head away from the window and onto the rest of the room. His gaze fell upon the floor, onto the sleeping figure of Pythas Lok. Thunder rattled the walls once again.
Almost consciously acknowledging the rumble, Pythas exhaled a soft moan as he stretched his body and rolled over, now facing Garak. He wondered if Pythas was awake or not. He waited for him to open his eyes but the time never came. He watched Pythas’ petite body sleep soundly, his serene features framed by the thick eyelashes that he spent his boyhood looking into. The comfort of Pythas’ presence was short lived, however, as his mind wandered back to his nightmare.
Garak was still very scared from this dream, and his body felt shaky with fear and he felt as tears began to well in his eyes. A purely subconscious response, he was sure, he was still too shaken up to even begin to process the implications of his dream. His attention was brought back to Pythas on the floor.
“Pythas?” he called out, disregarding his fear of making noise in such a heightened state.
There was no response. He was alone in this. Lightning flashed again. He called out louder again this time.
“Pythas!” he winced as his voice cracked with tears.
Pythas stirred once more.
“Elim?” Garak heard his name called out from the shadows. “What’s wrong?” asked Pythas.
Garak had turned his head back towards the window when he heard Pythas’ blankets rustle as he sat him. Garak thought of what to say in response.
“Could you come here… please?” He struggled to let the words escape his mouth.
“Of course,” Pythas said before standing up and making his way to the bed. “What seems to be the matter?”
Garak looked up at the lithe figure in the darkness. “No…” Garak hesitated. “I meant… Could you come here? The bed.”
The edge of the bed gently creaked as Pythas sat down. He looked over his friend in an effort to piece together what had happened. He saw the tears.
“Oh Elim,” he sighed tenderly.
“I-” Garak stuttered, “I was wondering- if, you could-”
Pythas knew what he was struggling to ask for. He crawled closer to Garak and sat beside him, extending his wiry fingers to his scalp. Pythas ran his calloused but delicate hand through Garak’s hair, which was tangled and damp with sweat. Garak was silent as Pythas untangled and smoothed the tresses with his hands. Finally, he spoke.
“I had a dream,” said Garak.
“I can tell,” replied Pythas. He momentarily let a gentle smile wash over his concern.
Garak turned his head and looked up at Pythas’ figure. “Could you, could you stay with me? Please?”
“Yes,” Pythas’ hand slowed. “Would you like me to turn the lights on?”
“Um, no. I don't think so," answered Garak quietly.
Pythas collected bundles of his hair and began to braid them gently. “What happened? In your dream?”
Garak moved his body in closer towards Pythas’, careful as to not disrupt his handiwork. “Do you ever have dreams where, you’re a child again?”
“Sometimes,” Pythas had finished a braid and had unraveled it, undoing his work. His left hand remained, nails circling his scalp as his right thumb wiped the tears from Garak’s eyes.
“I had something quite similar to that,” Garak added. “Only I was still an adult.”
“What do you mean?” asked Pythas. His right hand’s attention moved to stroke his flushed cheeks.
“I think I was experiencing a childhood memory. But my body in the dream was big like it is now in real life.”
“I see.”
Raindrops clattered along the window beside them as wind howled through the ceiling structures.
“I’m scared, Pythas,” Garak said, looking towards him.
“I know. I’m sorry, Elim.”
“I have dreams like this sometimes, where there's no escape.”
Pythas hummed in sympathy.
“I’m still so afraid of him,” Garak added.
“Of who?”
“My father.”
The room was silent as Pythas cradled Garak’s cheek. He brought his left palm to Garak’s forehead and held it there. Outside, raindrops splashed in the cabin’s gutter system. Garak broke the comfort of silence.
“I’ve spent my whole time pursuing a life outside of him,” Garak felt as Pythas’ hand retracted to allow him to speak. “And he still comes to me like this as I sleep. I’ll always be my father’s daughter,” Garak winced as his voice broke into sobbing defeat.
“Tsk, Elim,” Pythas raised his hips and the thick blankets as he shuffled himself underneath with Garak.
Pythas stretched himself out on his back, head propped up underneath one of Garak’s pillows. Garak rested himself on his side in the alcove of Pythas’ left arm and rested his head on his chest. The rest of his body, still highly distressed, clung itself to Pythas. His leg straddled Pythas’ hips and his free arm splayed across him, exploring his chest and stomach. Pythas’ strong arms enveloped Garak as his tears splattered across his nightshirt. If the dampness annoyed Pythas, he didn't say.
“Where do we go from here?” Garak’s breath was shaky.
“We…” Pythas paused to think.
“We spend the prime of our adult lives escaping our childhoods, trying to escape our parents,” Garak tilted his head to speak easier. “And then we die.”
Rain clattered as it washed over the windows before being drowned out by lightning and its subsequent sound of thunder.
“We’ve committed everything to the Order, Pythas,” Garak added. “And all to make it worthwhile. In order to escape. But in doing so, we are still the continuation of Bemarren. Of my father.”
“I know, Elim. It’s our job. It’s Cardassia. Our purpose is to serve the government,” Pythas replied bluntly but softly. The response was less for Garak and more for his own mutual feelings. If there was a voice inside crying the same words as Garak, he didn’t listen.
“Do you get tired of this job?” Garak asked softly.
“That’s not my decision to make,” Pythas said quietly. Still, Garak felt the depth of his voice rattle his lithe chest. Pythas had returned his hand to his scalp, his other smoothed itself on his curled back.
“That’s not true, Pythas, you know that. You could live in the jungle here, or explore some other planet’s wilderness. You could be completely free from the Order,” Garak felt himself get carried away by this point.
“I could live in the wilderness with you, too,” Garak added, smiling sweetly. “We could both be free together. For the rest of our lives.”
Pythas blushed softly, but it was obscured by the darkness. Garak felt as his companion’s chest tightened and winced from hope brought by this fantasy.
They were both silent in the darkness, neither saying anything but both awaiting the other’s response. Garak burrowed his cheek further into Pythas’ chest.
“Is that…” Pythas hesitated. “Is that what you want, Elim?”
“Yes,” he whispered delicately. “Do you want that too?”
The back and forth of their conversation had become more sparse as the call of sleep loudened. Still, Pythas continued to tend to Garak, tracing his nails along his spine.
Pythas thought for a moment. “Yes.”
“Well, I'm here now,” Garak said sleepily.
“Mhm,” Pythas hummed to himself in agreement.
“I’m in your home, in your bed; I could stay here forever. I want to.”
“We’ll see,” Pythas replied. “We have our mission tomorrow.”
“But for tonight, and after tomorrow, what then?”
“We’ll see,” said Pythas, low and soft.
“I'm so sleepy,” murmured Garak. “I hope tomorrow never comes.”
“You should go to sleep, then,” scolded Pythas. “I’ll be right here. I won’t leave you.”
Garak nodded in response. The rest of his body had succumbed to tiredness and gone completely limp in Pythas’ arms. Sebum had beaded in the creases of his eyelids. They fluttered in defiance to the commanding temptation of sleep, before finally closing in defeat.
Garak felt Pythas’ head shift towards his. He lowered his face upon Garak’s forehead, on which he lay a gentle kiss.
“I love you, Elim,” he whispered.
“I love you too, Pythas.”