Transposition
Part Ten
Chekov woke and reached for his companion - only to find a cold empty space where Zaabon should have been. Alarmed, he sat bolt upright, gaze flicking around the room...
The alien was huddled in the darkest corner again, naked on the floor, knees drawn up to his chest, face hidden in his arms.
"Zaabon? Lyebimeye? Vhat is wrong?"
His only answer was a choked sob. Worried, the Russian scrambled out of bed and dropped to kneel beside Zaabon, pulling the cool body into his arms.
"You are cold! How long haf you been here? Come back to bed."
Listless and unresisting, Zaabon allowed himself to be led back to the bed, lying limply against the navigator's warm body. Chekov nuzzled his hair.
"Come, lyebimeye. Tell me vhat's wrong."
Shadowed golden eyes met his, then looked away as the alien shivered.
"I... I have remembered..."
"Vhat? Tell me, Zaabon."
Zaabon shook his head, covering his eyes with his hands.
"It... it is too... horrible..."
"Dere is nothing you can say that vill change how I feel." Chekov stroked the alien's hair. "I do not like to see you hurt, lyebimeye. But I cannot help if you vill not trust me."
"I..." Zaabon bit back another sob. "I have... hurt people. Killed them."
Chekov froze, shocked. His lover, a killer? This gentle alien had killed people? He pulled the shivering body closer, kissing the tear-wet face.
"Tell me. Tell me vhat you remember."
Haltingly, his voice shaking, Zaabon tried to tell the Russian what he recalled. It wasn't much, just snippets of memory, of being forced to fight on pain of torture, of pain and humiliation meted out by a small, shadowy figure, red eyes, white and purple and a heavy tail that could break bone if its owner so wished... There was more, but the images weren't clear... He remembered hovering over a city, blasting it to bleeding ruins with some sort of inner power... And always in the background the figure, his master, threatening, punishing...
Zaabon curled into a tight ball, whimpering. Chekov cradled him tightly.
"He gave you no choice? You had to do his vill or be punished?"
"... yes... I... think..."
"Then it vas not your fault!"
"I could have said no..."
"And be killed? Or..." Chekov frowned: Zaabon's odd resistless docility, his placid acceptance of whatever sexual acts were asked of him... "lyebimeye, did he... force you? Abuse you?"
No answer, just an increase in the trembling as Zaabon tried to burrow deeper against his bedmate. Chekov growled to himself and kissed the top of the alien's head.
Dyehmo... this was his fault. If he'd not brought Zaabon to Bajor, if they'd not gone climbing, if he'd not fallen... He shook his head. If it hadn't been now, it would have happened later. Most likely. He hoped. Because if it was his fault he wasn't sure he could cope with the guilt...
They had to make the best of it. And he needed to speak with Garak as soon as possible. But for now -
"You vere a soldier?"
"I... I do not know... I suppose I must have been..." He looked up at Chekov, eyes bright with anguish. "I could not have done those things if I had not been, could I?"
"I vould think not." The Russian tried to smile reassuringly, stroking the quivering back. "I do not think you vould hurt anyvun unless you vere forced to do it. It is not in your nature."
"But I don't know that!" The low voice was agonised. "How can I know?"
Chekov wondered if Dr Bashir might be able to help. Or if there were any Vulcans anywhere near DS9: a telepath would be able to delve into the alien's mind. Or had that already been tried? Probably not - Zaabon had crashed on Cardassia, after all.
"Perhaps ve can find out more vhen ve return."
"Can we go now?"
Chekov sighed.
"Major Kira von't haf finished her business until tomorrow." Chekov rolled onto his back, pulling Zaabon's head to rest on his shoulder. "But ve could do as ve haf planned - go back to the park and see if you can fly..."
"Oh." Zaabon's head came up. "I had forgotten..."
Chekov wasn't surprised. But the thought seemed to have helped Zaabon regain his equilibrium - though that was possibly because it seemed almost impossible for him to hold more than one idea in his mind at any one time. The Russian shrugged mentally. Right now, if it helped him to deal with what he'd discovered about himself, it was more a help than a hindrance. He kissed soft blue lips.
"Shall ve haf breakfast first?"
An hour later they stood in the park. It was another beautifully sunny day, but nevertheless they had the place almost to themselves, with just a handful of other people mostly passing through on their way elsewhere. Chekov smiled encouragingly. They went back to their now-favourite eatery for a meal, sitting for an hour over warm local delicacies and fruit juices, eating mostly in silence. Chekov watched his companion: Zaabon was unconsciously so graceful, his movements sinuous and supple - he drew attention, and given his startling beauty and almost childlike reactions to those around him it wasn't surprising he inspired lust in so many. The Russian sighed: he needed someone to look after him. "Elim... I can fly..." He could swear he saw novae behind his eyelids as he came for the second time, cock deeply buried in Zaabon's cool, rippling throat, prehensile tongue curled around the twitching flesh, spasming as Garak kissed the base of his spine. As Zaabon pulled back, swallowing, he glanced pleadingly at the Cardassian. Garak nodded, smiling gently. Dr Bashir had looked askance when the three of them had turned up at sick bay the next afternoon, but, intrigued and excited by the idea of something new to explore, soon had Zaabon on a diagnostic couch and connected to various monitors while Garak and Chekov watched over their alien like anxious parents. At the end Bashir had shaken his head and declared himself puzzled. Sisko had frowned, then nodded reluctantly. Chekov grinned all the way back to their quarters, and once inside pulled Zaabon into a hug. © 2006 May 28th Joules Taylor Part Eleven
"Can you remember how it felt? To fly?"
"I am not sure..." Zaabon frowned. "I think..." He closed his eyes, brows pulled together in concentration, arms spread to the side. Chekov watched, holding his breath - but nothing happened. After a few moments the alien opened his eyes and gazed hopelessly at the Russian.
"I cannot... I do not remember..." Golden eyes filled with tears. "I cannot remember!"
Chekov pulled him close.
"Do not despair. It vas instinct, lyebimeye. You saved me vithout thinking." He frowned, wondering how best to reproduce the incident without flinging himself off the nearest precipice, then sighed and kissed Zaabon's neck. Much as he hated the idea, that was probably the only way around the problem.
"Shall ve go find somevhere high?"
Zaabon eyed him nervously.
"You want to risk yourself?"
The Russian grinned.
"I trust you."
"But..."
"It vould be vorth it to see that look on your face again."
"... look...?"
"It made you happy, lyebimeye. I love to see you happy."
"Oh..." Zaabon was silent for a moment, digesting this as best he could with his impaired mental processes - then he beamed.
"Maybe we do not need to do that." He concentrated, eyes narrowing - and rose a short distance from the ground. Chekov grinned.
"That is good. Can you go higher?"
And Zaabon did, hovering at head-height and smiling down at his companion.
"It feels very good, Chekov. Not quite as good as when we are in bed, but very good all the same." He descended a little and held out his arms. "Would you like to see what it feels like?"
Well, this was no time to have second thoughts, not with Zaabon now feeling confident. Chekov stepped into his arms, closing his eyes as the alien ascended, then forcing himself to look. Zaabon hadn't gone very high - falling from this height shouldn't result in anything more dangerous than a broken bone or two - and the feeling was very pleasant...
The Russian relaxed muscle he hadn't been aware of tensing, and smiled hesitantly.
"Wery good, Zaabon. Do you vant to try flying over there?" He indicated a stand of trees a short distance away: the alien smiled brightly.
"Of course..."
Zaabon was so elegant. And surprisingly strong. Chekov felt - not exactly safe, but certainly not endangered. And in an alien and completely novel way this was fun.
"How do you feel?"
Zaabon sighed happily
"It is like... scratching an itch you did not know you had."
Chekov blinked, then grinned. Interesting way to describe regaining a skill you didn't even remember having! But apt, very apt. Zaabon had relaxed, his body supple and loose now, fluidly responding to the light, capricious breeze.
Chekov felt... protected. He shouldn't - if Zaabon suddenly lost this impossible ability they'd both land very hard and painfully - but he did. He laughed quietly and kissed the alien's cheek, relieved when the action neither distracted Zaabon nor led to their precipitously plummeting Bajor-wards.
Zaabon smiled, then slowly descended, landing lightly in the shadow of the trees.
"I think that is enough for now, Chekov. It is a little tiring. And I am hungry."
Then he caught himself. Zaabon had Garak to care for him.
But Garak couldn't be everywhere. He had his business to attend to, couldn't protect Zaabon every minute of every day. Perhaps it would be... useful for Chekov to help with the task. Between them they could tend the alien, make sure he stayed safe, that no-one took advantage of him. And maybe chase the nightmare memories away. If Zaabon had done those things - well, that was in another lifetime. It would be cruel to resurrect them now. He'd tell Garak, but not do anything to remind Zaabon of what he once was.
He nodded. Yes, he could do that. Could combine his duties as pilot with being a guardian. That way he could, without guilt, become a member of their little 'family', and be with them - be there, close, when needed.
He took Zaabon's hand, nodding as guileless golden eyes gazed into his own.
"If Garak says yes, I vill move in vith you."
He was rewarded with a beaming smile, and Zaabon stroked his face.
"Thank you, Pavel. I am sure he will agree. And it will be wonderful, the three of us together."
Chekov kissed the palm pressed against his cheek.
"Shall ve go back to the park?"
"You would like me to try flying again?"
"I think the practise vould be good for you."
The alien nodded, rising to his feet.
"It would be good to be able to tell Garak I can fly properly."
Chekov followed him out of the eatery into the sunny afternoon.
Garak blinked, gazing at Chekov over Zaabon's shoulder where the alien had wrapped himself around his lover. The Russian smiled proudly.
"Is true. He saved my life."
Garak patted Zaabon's back distractedly and gestured to the port with its mound of cushions.
"Come and sit down, my dears, and tell me all about it..."
The Russian watched as Zaabon cuddled against the tailor, limned by stars, gazing up into the grey face as he explained - rather haphazardly - what had happened. Garak eyed Chekov narrowly.
"This is true?"
"Da."
"Hm." Garak pulled away slightly to frown down into Zaabon's face. "A most unprecedented occurrence."
Chekov nodded.
"I vas thinking ve should ask Dr Bashir. And the Commander should be told."
Garak raised a hand.
"Let us not be hasty. We would not wish for Zaabon to be treated as an... experimental animal."
"Dr Bashir vould not do that!"
"The good doctor has been known to be consumed by curiosity before..." The Cardassian sighed. "But perhaps it is wise." He stroked Zaabon's hair. "Would you mind, my pet? Letting Dr Bashir examine you?"
The alien hesitated, looking from Chekov to Garak and back.
"Do you think I should?"
Garak wrapped an arm over his shoulders.
"I think it may be time. We did not discover this... ability, and we do not know how it operates. Perhaps the doctor can enlighten us."
Chekov nodded, taking a cool blue hand.
"It vould be good for him to haff your details too, in case you are effer hurt."
"Not that we would allow that to happen." Garak flashed a warning look at the Russian. Chekov hastily shook his head, not sure why the Cardassian didn't want Zaabon to think about such things but heeding the caution.
"No, indeed!"
Zaabon chewed his lower lip, then nodded uncertainly.
"Well, if you think I should... Tomorrow?" He smiled adoringly at Garak. "I have missed you. Perhaps we could... have an early night?"
Chekov tried hard to quash the surge of jealousy that flooded him. Gritting his teeth he rose to his feet and bowed formally.
"Then I shall see you tomorrow."
"Oh no!" Zaabon twisted to face him, expression dismayed. "Why must you go, Pavel?"
Chekov stared, colouring hotly at the amused smirk on Garak's face: he had forgotten how literal Zaabon could be. The Cardassian held out a hand.
"Young Pavel, if you are to join the family, you really should start now."
More than ever convinced that Garak could read minds - they hadn't yet talked about his moving in - Chekov grinned wryly and sat back down, hands reaching for his tunic as Zaabon slid out of his clothing...
"Of course, my pet."
He rose to his feet, still hard, and led the quivering alien to the bed, settling him comfortably - then fastening the fetters around his wrists. Chekov frowned.
"Vhy do you do that?"
Zaabon smiled sweetly up at him, wriggling his legs apart.
"Sometimes... sometimes it feels better, Pavel. Sometimes I need it. It feels... safe."
Garak shrugged.
"He asks for it. Has done so since I... retrieved him."
"Retrieved him?"
"From the medical facility." Garak smiled mirthlessly. "He was unhappy there. He was not being treated... appropriately."
Chekov stared, horrified, then eyed Zaabon unhappily. Violated by his 'master', then probably treated as a sex toy by the Cardassians? It would explain a lot. Though not why he wanted to be shackled... maybe he could ask Zaabon himself. If the alien could focus enough on the question to give a coherent answer, which Chekov doubted. Perhaps it was a way to make it acceptable, somehow? Or remind himself of how vulnerable he used to be, until Garak had rescued him? He shook his head. He was no psychologist. Psychiatrist. Whatever the discipline was called.
A soft whimper from Zaabon dragged him back to the present: the alien's back was arched, erection straining, desperate for stimulation. Sparing Garak a quick look, Chekov slid onto the bed, straddled Zaabon's hips, then impaled himself deliciously slowly, grinning as Zaabon quivered and thrust upwards. Rocking slightly out of time with the alien's movements, teasing, keeping him on the edge of climaxing, Chekov gazed down into the beautiful yearning face, then leaned forward to kiss Zaabon deeply, shivering as the chlyen grazed over that wonderful spot inside him... Seconds later he felt himself rolling onto his side as Garak eased Zaabon over and nestled close, pushing slowly but powerfully into the alien. Wrapping his legs around Zaabon's hips and the tops of Garak's muscular thighs, Chekov suckled at the quivering slender neck before him, nipped gently at delicate earlobes, kissed the fluttering eyelids as Zaabon moaned and trembled and thrust in time with Garak's lunges into his own cool body...
... soooo good... Chekov gasped as Zaabon gripped him tightly, concentrating on the sensation of that cool, solid flesh pulsing inside him, the stimulation enough to bring him erect again. He heard Garak groan as he too came, buttocks tightening as he froze, throbbing in his lover, pushing soft green hair aside to lick and kiss the nape of Zaabon's neck.
Panting, Chekov wriggled as the alien slackened and slid wetly from his backside, watching as Garak carefully eased himself from the slender blue body and rolled Zaabon onto his back again. He gestured to the trembling alien, smiling teasingly.
"I'm sure Zaabon would like you too."
"Oh, yes please, Pavel." The alien beamed at the human, eyes bright, spreading his thighs wide.
"You are still tied up."
"Yes. Please?"
Chekov sighed, then took a breath and slid into the oozing channel, ridiculously pleased when Zaabon gasped, eyes closing as he wrapped long legs tightly around the Russian's waist.
"Hard... please..."
Lips on Zaabon's shoulder, neck, throat, Chekov pounded harder and harder, frenziedly, as the alien whimpered and moaned and licked at his ear, his mouth... It took Chekov a good twenty minutes of ramming into that wonderful, tight, writhing, welcoming body before he came, by which time Zaabon had climaxed twice more, crying Chekov's name at the last, kissing the Russian fiercely.
Lying panting over Zaabon, trying to get back both his breath and some strength in his limbs, Chekov wasn't aware of Garak unfettering his lover until long arms wrapped around his shoulders.
"Thank you..."
The Russian grinned and brushed a kiss over blue lips.
"Nyet - thank you."
Garak nuzzled the human's neck, and Chekov shifted to the side with a satisfied sigh - only to see the Cardassian position himself and thrust steadily into Zaabon again. The Russian frowned.
"Is he not too tired?"
Garak paused and gazed into golden eyes.
"Are you too tired, my pet?"
Zaabon smiled dreamily and draped his arms over the corded shoulder.
"I am never too tired for you, Elim."
Chekov shook his head in resignation and contented himself with kissing every bit of skin - blue and grey - that he could reach while Garak plunged deeply into their lover...
By the time he was finished they were all more than ready for sleep. As the Cardassian wearily gathered Zaabon to him, with Chekov cuddled into the alien's other side, he sighed regretfully.
"I may not be awake in time to make breakfast, I'm afraid."
Chekov chuckled and brushed his fingers gently over the ridged face.
"Do not vorry about that, sir. I vill make it."
Garak eyed him for a moment, then smiled.
"Why thank you, young Pavel. That is most kind."
The Russian shrugged.
"If I am to live vith you, I must... pull my veight."
"A most appreciated sentiment." Garak hesitated for a moment, then settled back down, nuzzling Zaabon's hair, dark eyes still on Chekov's face. "But please, Pavel, call me Elim. In private."
The human nodded, smiling as he drifted into sleep, his last thought, incongruously, how odd they must look, grey Cardassian, pink human, and pale blue alien, lying snuggled together on the massive bed...
"Well, I understand what he does, but not how he does it."
"And that is...?" prompted the Cardassian. Bashir leaned back against his desk.
"It's some kind of innate, mentally-controllable physical power. I'd guess he's always possessed it, just forgotten how to use it." He smiled at Zaabon, who smiled shyly back. "I must confess I'm jealous. It must be wonderful to be able to fly under your own power."
Zaabon nodded agreement. Garak frowned.
"There isn't a lot of space to fly here."
"No, and that could be a problem. I'd recommend plenty of visits to Bajor, so he can exercise, stretch those metaphysical wings..."
Chekov grinned. He'd liked Bajor. Garak inclined his head pensively.
"We had better speak with the commander."
Bashir grinned.
"An excellent idea..."
"For his health's sake I'll sanction it. Though I must ask you to acquaint yourself with Bajoran custom and legislation." He glowered at Chekov - although the Russian thought there was a very faint twinkle of humour in the dark eyes. "I've had some... complaints about your behaviour the last time you were there. Something to do with certain activities that should remain private?"
Chekov reddened, coughing his embarrassment, while Zaabon just looked confused. Garak smirked and patted the alien's shoulder.
"I will make sure they are both made aware of what is acceptable."
"Thank you. Mr Garak." Sisko eyed the alien, then glanced at the Cardassian. "This ability might have some use on other worlds. Would Zaabon be competent to work for us, as a civilian aide, for example?"
Garak shook his head.
"I fear not: the damage is too extensive, his mental acuity too limited."
"Pity." The commander folded his hands on his desk. "Very well. I trust you will be happy."
"I am sure we will..."
"I am wery happy!"
Zaabon hugged him back, then reached out to pull Garak into the embrace.
"So am I, Pavel. Very happy."
Garak chuckled quietly and kissed their foreheads.
"Ah, the vigour of youth."
"You are not old!" Chekov nuzzled the Cardassian's neck. "Vell, not that old..."
Garak laughed.
"Ah, the frankness of youth! It is most refreshing." He stepped back, gesturing to the bedroom. "Shall we celebrate?"
Chekov grinned at him.
"Ah, the stamina of maturity... It is a good idea, I think. I shall be busy for the next three days: I am needed as pilot." He glanced at Zaabon. "Perhaps you could come vith me? Ve vould have time to explore a little more of Bajor. And you could fly."
Zaabon sighed happily, then looked at Garak for permission. The Cardassian nodded.
"Of course, my pet. Pavel will look after you."
"Can you not come with us?"
Garak smiled dryly.
"I am not welcome on Bajor."
"Oh." Zaabon chewed his lower lip and regarded his lover uncertainly. "Shall I stay here then?"
"No. I want you to enjoy yourself. I have my work to be getting on with." He kissed the alien lingeringly. "And your return is all the sweeter for the time apart."
Chekov shivered, suddenly overcome with happiness that he was now part of this unlikely little family. He kissed Zaabon's shoulder, then stroked Garak's face.
"I vill look after him vith my life, Elim, I svear it."
The Cardassian wrapped an arm across his shoulders.
"Thank you, Pavel." He gazed at the Russian for a moment or two, then shook himself.
"Celebration. Then I had best teach you what you may or may not do on Bajor. We would not want the good commander changing his mind."
Arms around each other, Zaabon safely ensconced between them, they walked together into the bedroom and the future.
