Of Moths and Flames, Part I

[dark_sinestra]

Author Notes: This story takes place shortly after For the Cause ends and ends shortly before Body Parts begins. This time around, I pretty much just wrote around episodes, not including any of them directly. It worked better that way.

Summary: Garak finally learns of the mysterious daughter of Dukat's intentions and discovers that sometimes more knowledge simply means more complications. Swamped with work and facing some of the largest challenges of his career to date, Julian struggles to salvage what he can of his personal life while performing his duties and keeping his oaths. Can he manage, or has at least one of his partners had enough?

Author: Dark Sinestra

Date Written: May 2010

Category: Slash, Het

Rating: R for strong adult situations and sexual content.

Disclaimer: It's fanfic, which means not for profit, not about the author's original characters, yadda yadda. I think we all know the drill.

Word Count: 21,326

 

 

Garak

Quark's Bar

Holosuite Two

 

Garak felt slightly ridiculous after weeks of worry and paranoia culminating in the potential for a shooting. The intense heat of the Cardassian sauna program washed over him like a benediction, uncoiling muscle and baking away his tension. He lay on the flat rock curled on his side, facing the girl opposite him, Dukat's daughter, Ziyal. Her warm, dusk blue eyes were nothing like her father's. In truth he saw very little of the father in the daughter, save perhaps for her boldness now that they were finally speaking. Those long weeks of stake outs he realized now weren't timidity on her part but intelligent caution. Kira and Dukat both had warned her of his nature and his role in her grandfather's death. Had she rushed into an association, he would have found her very unwise in the face of that information.

 

By mutual, unspoken accord, they avoided that topic. He regaled her with tales of formal balls, social events that glittered on the surface and disguised potentially deadly games of advantages sought, scores settled, and the surprisingly fluid boundaries within Cardassia's apparent stratification. She was a rapt audience, and he could see that which Leeta had warned him about on more than one occasion. Her fascination was not entirely confined to his knowledge of her father's homeworld.

 

She sat up and stretched languidly, favoring him with a curious look. “I don't see how you could stand it,” she said. “All that maneuvering, no one what he seems. For my part, the hostility on Cardassia was anything but veiled. My mother warned me that Father's world wasn't what I hoped it would be. I didn't want to hear it. I had such grand plans and ideas of how I'd somehow win them over some day after we had been on Lissepia for a while and when Father came to get us. I guess I was hopelessly naïve.”

 

Naïve, perhaps, but not without considerable charm, he reflected. “You wound up in a Breen labor camp,” he said reasonably. “I would think that having plans, any plans, was a good way to avoid the trap of despair. How could you have known? Even your mother had only heard of Cardassia, not been there herself. I personally take second-hand accounts with a healthy dose of skepticism.”

 

Her smile blossomed suddenly and fully, completely transforming her features to something stunning. “That was exactly my reasoning. She didn't know.” The smile faded as quickly as it had come, but traces of it lingered somewhere in the set of her eyes. “You're not at all what I expected, either. I watched you for a long time.” It was strangely endearing that she truly seemed to believe that she needed to tell him this. “You confuse me, though.”

 

He smiled faintly. “You're not the first person to say that to me. Tell me, dear, have you had enough of the heat yet?”

 

“I never thought I'd say this, but yes,” she said. “Can we go to the Replimat? I'm hungry and thirsty. I...it's still hard to get used to the idea that there's plenty to eat and drink now, just for the taking. Sometimes I go too long, worrying that it'll run out.”

 

He sat up first then climbed to his feet and retrieved his phaser, tucking it away at the back of his belt. She was an odd combination of openness and guile. He didn't feel yet as though he had nearly the measure of her, and it made him lean toward caution in his responses. “There's an aspect of that to Cardassia's history, too. You should ask your father about hungry times when you get the chance.”

 

She stood and circled the rocks to stand before him. “I don't think I'm going to get much chance to speak to Father given what he's doing. You could tell me instead.”

 

“Perhaps another time,” he said, offering her his arm. “For now let's tend to your hunger.”

 

She accepted his answer without argument and threaded her hand through the crook of his elbow. They descended the stairs together in silence, and he watched her looking around at the bar and the people in it. There was something nearly bird-like about her scrutiny. “Uh oh,” she muttered, her grip on him tightening.

 

He didn't have to ask her what she meant. He saw the subject of her concern weaving through the crowd toward them on swift feet with a very hard look in her eyes. In such moods, Major Kira was no one to trifle with. “Ziyal,” the woman said tersely, “would you go get yourself something to drink at the bar, please? I'd like a word with Garak.”

 

He opened his mouth to speak, but the girl beat him to it. “I'm sorry, Nerys, but no. Garak and I are going to the Replimat. If you'd like to join us, I'd love the company.”

 

Kira's look at Garak was pure venom, as though she suspected him of putting Ziyal up to saying such a thing. He was just as surprised as she, not having expected her to show such backbone when faced with the slender woman's wrath. He schooled his features to mildness, inwardly irritated that the woman was so quick to jump to the worst sort of conclusion. “No, I don't think so,” she said, shooting the girl a look that promised later confrontation.

 

Ziyal didn't relax her hold until Kira was well away from them. She glanced up at him. “I'm sorry for that,” she said. “I'm going to work on her about it, but it's probably going to take some time.”

 

“You think?” he asked dryly. They resumed their path toward the exit. He didn't try to speak to her again until they were out of the press of the crowd and the noise. “She has her reasons for being concerned, as we touched on before,” he said. “She's trying to look out for you.”

 

“I'm grateful for everything Nerys has done for me, but I'm my own person. I can make my own decisions about who I spend time with. My mother is dead, and I don't need or want another. I don't want to talk about Nerys anymore. Tell me more about Cardassia. What was it like for you growing up?”

 

So it was story time. He was good at that. Smiling more to himself than at Ziyal, he launched into one of his most entertaining fictions to date. He kept the girl enthralled for well over two hours before the late hour persuaded both of them to call it an evening and part ways amicably. He had to admit that he had enjoyed himself and looked forward to their next meeting. It had been a very long time since anyone had charmed him so thoroughly and easily. He was content to allow it and to leave it at that, heading home lighter in spirits than he had been in years.

 

Julian

Leeta's Quarters

 

“All I'm saying,” Julian said, struggling to keep his tone reasonable, “is that I think he's being foolish. Agreeing to meet her in a holosuite? No, no one will see anything unsavory in that.”

 

In the process of getting dressed for work, Leeta paused, a hand on her hip and a limp legging hanging from her fingers. “You mean the same holosuites in which you spend so much time with Miles? Or Miles spends with Odo? Or Dax with Kira? I could go on, but I think you get my point,” she said, moving to sit on the side of the bed and snug the partially opaque legging up a shapely leg.

 

“No one would ever suspect anything of all of us because...” He cut off at her very arch look. “What? What's that look about?”

 

“If you think nobody has ever said anything about you and Miles, I have to believe you've deliberately ignored it,” she answered with a sniff. “That's beside the point. Who cares what people say? Fire, Julian, who cares if there is something going on? That's between Garak and Ziyal.”

 

He barked out a harsh, disbelieving laugh. “I think Major Kira and Gul Dukat might have something to say about it. And why haven't you ever told me people were spreading rumors about me and Miles? Didn't you think I might like to know?”

 

She held off on answering until she could pull her tight top over her head and get it settled properly. “If you wanted to know, you'd know,” she said. “As for Dukat, he's not here. He left his daughter behind, and Kira, no matter how well intentioned she might be, isn't Ziyal's mother. The girl is of age. What she does and with whom is her business.”

 

“Garak is old enough to be her grandfather,” he sputtered.

 

“How old were you when the two of you first sparked?” she asked dryly. “Personally, I think you're jealous, and it's very unbecoming given the circumstances.”

 

“I am not jealous,” he huffed. How preposterous! “I'm concerned, more about him than her. If he really makes Kira angry, she could do something to him, something rash. Just because Dukat isn't here doesn't mean he couldn't catch wind of things and have something horrible done to Garak. For that matter, how do we really know Ziyal herself doesn't have nefarious intentions? He killed her grandfather, after all.”

 

Leeta sighed in exasperation. “If you spent just fifteen minutes sitting down and actually talking to her, you'd know how stupid what you just said sounded. Do you honestly think Garak can't handle himself with Kira or Dukat? If anything, I'd think it was the other way around if push came to shove. I hope Kira is smart enough not to push him.” She paused and got an odd little smile. “I actually hope Dukat isn't.” She fastened her belt and leaned toward him. “Now kiss me. I've got to go, and if you have it in your head to confront Garak about the time he's spending with Ziyal tonight, I would highly recommend against it. Of course, you're going to do what you want. Just don't come complaining to me when he puts you in your place and leaves your ego smarting.”

 

He stared at her. “You honestly expect me to kiss you after all of that, calling me stupid and telling me I'm no match for Garak's putting me in my place?”

 

“You apparently have trouble with my simple honesty. Garak's not nearly as nice as I am, so I think I had good reason to say what I said.” She shrugged and turned in a graceful flounce of gossamer material and perfume, leaving him quietly fuming.

 

“I'm not jealous,” he said to the closing door. Besides, Garak had been the one who couldn't take his eyes off the girl during the springball match a few nights before. He had even made Julian miss the final point of the major's match by his infuriating contrariness and insistence that there was nothing wrong with his attentions. It damned sure looked like interest to Julian, but had it really been? Was it possible Garak picked up on his misgiving and showed him what he expected to see? He hated to admit that Leeta had been right about anything, yet he knew that any attempt to confront Garak about Ziyal could only lead to frustration and misery. He could think of any number of angles the tailor could take to jab at him for nothing more than his own amusement.

 

Ultimately, what right did he have to make any demands of Garak about who he saw or how he conducted his private affairs? What right did he have to feel possessive? “Is that what this really is?” he wondered aloud. If so, why? Was it because she was partially Cardassian, and he had never felt as though he could compete with anything involving Garak's culture? If that was the case, he knew he needed to get over it.

 

“Sisko to Bashir,” the captain's voice startled him out of his musing.

 

“Bashir here, Captain. Go ahead,” he said.

 

“We've just received a distress signal from Free Haven. Prepare to be beamed aboard the Defiant. We're leaving in five minutes.”

 

“Yes, Sir,” he said automatically. It was rare that they left so abruptly, but the outlying Bajoran colonies were vulnerable to any number of threats, the Breen, the Tzenkethi, the Tholians, Maquis raiders, rogue Cardassians or Klingons, others he couldn't call so readily to mind. He grabbed his spare personal effects that he kept at Leeta's and tossed them into one of her cloth bags then tapped his comm badge. “Ready for transport.”

 

When he materialized on the transporter pad of the Defiant, Miles smirked at him. “Nice purse,” he said.

 

“Ha ha. I was at Leeta's. It was the best I could do on such short notice.” Julian stepped down and headed for the sick bay. He could stow his things in a bunk later. His biggest regret was that he had to leave before he could smooth things over with Leeta. He didn't like the thought that their possible last words to one another could be harsh ones.

 

Garak

Private Quarters

 

Fastening his belt, Garak gave a small smile of satisfaction. He had managed to trim down one notch in the past month. He was looking forward to his evening out with “the girls” as he was coming to think of them, Leeta and Ziyal. It was a shame Julian was away on one of those Starfleet missions of his. He had heard more than enough about it from Ziyal to know it should worry him. The Breen were dangerous and had advanced weaponry they weren't at all averse to using. It was also a pity that Rom had to work. He believed that the Ferengi maintenance worker would find Ziyal's company as entertaining as he did and would, of course, bask in the opportunity to spend some time with Leeta.

 

“You're becoming such a busybody in your middle age,” he told himself humorously. If his matchmaking efforts were as successful with Odo as he had been in subtly moving things along for Rom and Leeta, he whimsically considered he should make a business of it. Wouldn't Quark just love that. Ha! His door chimed. “Enter,” he called out cheerfully. “I was just putting on my...belt,” his sentence trailed off as he stepped into his front room. There was a Bajoran there, yes, but not the one he expected. “Major,” he said neutrally.

 

Kira's fingers twitched as though she wanted to make a fist. “Garak,” she said.

 

“I'm expecting company in a few minutes,” he told her, watching her hands as much as he did her eyes.

 

“I know,” she snapped. Immediately afterward, she held up a hand. “I'm sorry. Let me start again.” He nodded, remaining just outside his bedroom doorway, in reach of cover and his phaser if it became necessary. “I've come to view Ziyal as the little sister I never had. She...Prophets, she reminds me so much of myself in some ways. The person I...the person I would've been given half the chance. Please, tell me you're not playing some horrible game with her because of her father,” she said, her gaze so intense he almost felt the need to look away.

 

He sighed softly. “How can I convince you?” he asked. “No matter what I say, you're going to have doubt. There is no way that I can take that away, which puts you in the unenviable position of having to trust me. Come with us tonight,” he offered.

 

She blinked, taken aback. “To dinner?” she asked.

 

“Yes,” he said, nodding. “Leeta will be there, too. Watch us together. Draw your own conclusions from it. Oh, certainly, I could put on a show for your benefit, but both Leeta and Ziyal would be aware if I behaved differently in front of them than I normally do. Neither of them is what I would call soft-spoken or timid. They would confront me about it.”

 

She frowned slightly, a small dimple forming above her left eyebrow. He knew that look and wisely kept quiet. “I don't want Ziyal thinking I'm trying to check up on her,” she said a little weakly.

 

“Then I'll tell her I specifically invited you.”

 

“Why?” she asked, flatly suspicious.

 

Reluctantly, he stepped away from his bedroom doorway and approached her, keeping both of his hands visible and relaxed. “Not that I expect you'll believe me, but I like Ziyal. She's a bright spark in an often dull and cold landscape. When I talk to her, I forget where I am for a little while. Seeing us together, getting along and being civil, will make her happy, and that's reason enough for me.”

 

“You know she has feelings for you,” Kira said.

 

He frowned and nodded. “I can't control that, Major. All I can control is what I do about it. Ziyal is a dear girl, of age, yes, but still very much a girl. I have no interest in being the one to take that innocence away from her.”

 

She searched his gaze for long moments. He could see her frustration at finding him hard to read. He made no effort to make it easier for her, some habits nearly impossible to break without much stronger motivation than her comfort level with him. She opened her mouth to speak, and his door chime interrupted her.

 

“Enter,” Garak said smoothly, gaze flicking from Kira's conflicted countenance to Leeta's surprised one.

 

“Oh,” she said, stepping inside and offering both of them a slightly confused smile. “I'm sorry. Did I come at a bad time? I thought I was supposed to be meeting you here.”

 

“Not at all,” he said, putting a hand to Kira's shoulder and turning her with him. “I only just discovered the major has some free time and will be joining us for dinner. I was hoping to surprise Ziyal.”

 

Kira's smile had a hard edge. “Yes,” she said, shooting Garak a look to kill. “That's...right.” She was a horrible liar.

 

“No need to linger here, then,” he said, favoring both of them with bright eyes and his friendliest closed lipped smile. “Let's go.” He gestured Kira ahead of him and fell into step beside Leeta.

 

Leeta leaned up and whispered, “Why do I get the impression she's furious?”

 

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” he said smoothly, one hand settling briefly at the small of her back.

 

“I'll just bet,” she said, rolling her eyes at him. She sped up to walk beside Kira, putting an arm lightly about her shoulders and giving her a squeeze. “I'm so happy you'll be joining us. Ziyal is going to be thrilled!”

 

Garak smiled to himself all the way from the corridor through the turbolift ride to the second level of the Promenade. He hadn't been sure that Kira would go along with his strong-arm tactic. It could've been a minor embarrassment. Instead, it was something he was sure would make both of his original dinner companions happy and couldn't hurt his standing with Chalan, either.

 

They passed into the warm light and cozy atmosphere of the Celestial Café. Chalan smiled brightly in welcome. “Your friend said she was only expecting two others,” she told Garak. “I'll just go grab another menu and meet you over there.”

 

Ziyal's face lit as soon as she saw the three, and she waved enthusiastically, jumping up to hug Kira and Leeta tightly in turn. “Nerys!” she exclaimed, beaming. “I had no idea you'd be here, too. How wonderful!”

 

Garak watched the former resistance fighter. Her strained expression eased to a warm smile. “I keep hearing how good the food is here. When...when Garak invited me, I just couldn't say no.” Leeta shot him a wry glance, one brow lifted. Fortunately, the other two were too distracted to see it.

 

Ziyal's eyes flew to him, her smile deepening. “That was very gracious of you,” she said, offering him her palm to press as he had shown her.

 

He returned the greeting and inclined his head. “The time was past due,” he said, looking past her to Kira.

 

Chalan approached with the extra menu and wine list. “Welcome to the Celestial Café,” she said to them. “I'm so happy to see you here for your first time, Major. Now, all of you make yourselves comfortable. I'll be around in just a bit to tell you about our specials tonight, and then I'm going to turn you over to my capable waiter.”

 

“You managed to hire someone?” Leeta asked. “That's wonderful news, Aroya.”

 

She beamed and nodded, clearly pleased. “Business has been better than I expected, I'm sure partially in thanks to your friend here.” She lightly touched Garak's shoulder. “I can't tell you how many people have told me that he has recommended me. It's very kind of him.”

 

“He's very kind,” Ziyal said, her eyes shining.

 

Kira coughed into her fist and waved a hand at them when their attention turned to her. “I'm fine,” she choked out. “Just need a little water.”

 

Chalan rushed away to fetch it for her, and Garak valiantly hid his amusement. Before the silence could get awkward, Leeta turned to Ziyal. “How is your painting coming along?” she asked.

 

“I'm still stuck,” she said. “I'm sure it'll come to me. Probably in the middle of the night. I really hope I can start selling some of my work soon so I can find my own place and not keep imposing on Nerys.”

 

“I've told you before you're no imposition,” Kira said, still sounding a little choked from her sudden coughing fit.

 

“I know that, but I also know that when I sit bolt upright in the middle of the night and rush off into the sitting room, it wakes you up,” Ziyal said.

 

Garak idly perused the menu, already knowing what he wanted, unless one of the specials sounded better. Chalan returned with water for all of them and a tall, fair haired Bajoran male in her wake. As she set the glasses on the table, she said, “This is Mayna. He'll be taking care of you this evening. In addition to what we have on the menu, we just got in some fresh porli fowl that I've slow smoked all day. It's served sliced with a garanberry reduction sauce, braised silfa buds, and creamed katterpods on the side. You might be interested in the korfa fish,” she said to Garak. “It's pan sered with a crisp rufa crust and lightly salted with charcoal salt from the Northwest Peninsula. It comes with a warm, wilted greens salad and himsa chips.”

 

“You're tempting me,” Garak said, feeling his mouth starting to water.

 

“Could I get the porli fowl without the side of katterpods?” Kira asked.

 

“Of course,” Chalan said, smiling. “Just tell Mayna what you'd like to substitute. I'll be back by later to check on you. I hope all of you enjoy yourselves.”

 

Garak saw a small crowd near the door, and the café itself already crowded with diners. Conversation sounds were at a very manageable level, however, in part because of the artful arrangement of the tables and in part because of the thick, mellow saffron colored cloth swaddling the walls and hanging from the ceiling in swags that suggested a large nomadic style tent. The four of them placed their food and drink orders, and Mayna retreated to convey them to the kitchen.

 

“I can't believe I haven't been here before,” Kira said when he left.

 

“That's because you work too much,” Ziyal said. “Or you're off on Bajor with Shakaaaar.” She dragged out the man's name playfully.

 

“Ohh, Shakaar,” Leeta said, fanning herself and grinning at both women. “How is our illustrious First Minister?” she asked, batting innocent eyes at Kira.

 

Kira shot Ziyal a mock exasperated look and answered Leeta in kind. “He's just fine; thank you for asking.” She grinned a syrupy grin and glanced at Garak. “No wonder you wanted me to come to dinner. You wanted the heat off of you from these two.”

 

“Nerys!” Ziyal giggled and shot a glance at Garak from beneath her lashes. “We're not mean to him. Are we, Leeta?”

 

“Never,” Leeta intoned, feigning absolute seriousness. “Right, Garak?”

 

“A wise man knows when to seal his lips,” he said, taking a sip of his water. He found himself in a napkin swatting flurry from two sides. Kira's laughter sounded genuine. “You see? Abusive, both of them,” he huffed.

 

Mayna emerged from the kitchen bearing a very large silver soup turine, steaming and filled with a rich looking broth studded with tiny dumplings. He set it on a side tray, removed the floral centerpiece, and carefully set the full dish at the center of the table. “There must be some mistake,” Leeta said, her eyes wide. “We didn't order...”

 

“Miss Chalan insists,” Mayna said. “On the house. I'll be right back with the bowls.”

 

Kira's look mirrored Leeta's. “That's far too generous,” she said. “We can't possibly accept that without paying. It wasn't even on the menu!” Garak found himself interested. Ziyal seemed as puzzled as he.

 

“You'll have to take that up with Miss Chalan,” the waiter said over his shoulder with a smile.

 

Seeing Garak's and Ziyal's confusion, Leeta said, “Possar soup takes two days to make. It's usually reserved for special occasions, and it's hard to find anybody who knows how to make the dumplings anymore. I wonder if this is a Chalan family recipe.”

 

“Probably,” Kira said, her eyes still wide.

 

Mayna returned with the bowls and rounded little spoons, setting them before each of them and dipping some of the soup into each bowl. It smelled delicious and truly looked appetizing. “Enjoy,” he said, leaving them to their first course.

 

“It's all right to eat it, right?” Ziyal asked uncertainly, glancing at Kira. “Are you going to send it back?”

 

“No, we won't send it back,” Kira said, reaching to squeeze her hand reassuringly. “It would be beyond rude. I'm just...really touched by Chalan's generosity.”

 

“I've only had this once in my life,” Leeta said softly, dipping her spoon into her bowl. She smiled, but Garak could tell it was forced. He wondered at the story behind that.

 

“Then we'll have to thank her extra sincerely,” Ziyal said, also dipping her spoon and lifting a bite to taste. The rest of them followed suit, and for a time there was no more talking, as was so often the case with delicious food and hungry people.

 

“My grandmother,” Kira said, starting to laugh a little bit, “used to tell this story about how her brother switched all the possar flour with katterpod starch. Now, to look at it, you'd hardly be able to tell the difference, but if you try to make dumplings out of katterpod starch...”

 

Leeta started to laugh, too, her eyes widening. “Oh, Prophets, no! It's like...”

 

“Glue!” both women said together, laughing hard. Ziyal joined in whole heartedly, and Garak chuckled lightly.

 

“She said her mother...” Kira started miming with her hands, acting as though she were having a hard time pulling them apart and speaking through her laughter. “And she wanted so badly to switch my great uncle, but she...she couldn't get her hands apart to grab the switch!”

 

“How do you get it to let go?” Ziyal asked.

 

Kira shook her head and waved a hand, laughing too hard to answer at first. “That's the worst part. I...I can't say it at the table.” Obviously, Leeta knew. She was wrinkling her nose and trying very hard not to laugh too loudly. They were already getting some looks from the other tables.

 

“Don't be that way!” Ziyal's laughter turned slightly outraged, her mouth wide. “You have to tell me!” Glancing at Garak apologetically, Kira leaned in and beckoned Ziyal closer. The girl leaned over obligingly to hear the whisper. Garak hadn't known her eyes could fly any wider. “Oh, that's...that's...so gross!” Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. Kira just nodded violently and rested her head on the back of her hand at the edge of the table, her shoulders shaking with her now silent laughter, no more breath left to drive it.

 

“Do you want to know?” Leeta asked Garak direly.

 

He looked at all three women and shook his head. “I think not,” he said, more amused at their hilarity than he let on. Somebody had to be the adult!

 

“You really don't,” Ziyal said, trying to rein in her giggles.

 

Chalan briefly stopped by. “I was going to ask if you were enjoying yourselves, but I can see that for myself,” she said. “Did you like the soup?”

 

“It was amazing,” Leeta said. “I'm so envious of you, Aroya. I burn water when I try to cook.”

 

“Anybody can learn,” she said. “Stop by during your free time. I'm almost always in the kitchen.”

 

Leeta beamed. “You mean it? I won't be in the way?”

 

“Nonsense. Of course not. Anybody need any refills of water, wine, kanar?”

 

Ziyal glanced around the table. “Looks like we're good,” she said. “Thank you so much for the soup. That was unbelievably generous of you.”

 

“I believe in treating my loyal customers well,” she said, stepping away from them again as Mayna came out with their main courses.

 

Garak thought his eyes would cross at the first bite of the fish. He had truly never had anything quite so fresh or succulent since leaving Cardassia. It was Bajoran cuisine, but it catered well to his race's natural affinity for seafood. He closed his eyes as he chewed, the better to focus on the flavor without the distraction of his main sense in the way.

 

Ziyal's whisper came soft in his ear. “This is the best food I've ever had,” she said.

 

He cracked one eye open and gave her a quick, half smile. “Me, too,” he murmured back. It was almost the truth.

 

All of them ate far more than they should have. It was blatantly obvious by the way they sat back in their chairs with hands over their stretched bellies. Kira and Leeta were slightly flushed. “I'm going to need a hand cart to haul me out of here,” Kira said with a long, contented sigh.

 

“Me, too,” Leeta said. “Thank the Prophets I'm off work tonight. I'm afraid if I tried to bend over the dabo wheel, my costume would split.”

 

“I made it better than that,” Garak assured her with a teasing light in his eyes.

 

“You don't know how full I am,” she said.

 

“On the contrary.” He cast a rueful glance down at his belt. That notch that fit so well when he was dressing was now uncomfortably tight. He decided to adjust it lest it make the decision for him when he tried to stand.

 

“Uuuhhhh,” Ziyal said, flopping back dramatically. “OK, who's going to carry me out of here?”

 

“If you ask Mayna nicely, he might,” Leeta said.

 

“Hush you!” Ziyal pinned her with a squint, the corners of her mouth twitching with a suppressed grin.

 

“We're going to have to work on your...oh, how do the humans put it? Poker face?” Garak asked.

 

“Yeah,” Kira said, nodding. “For the record, don't ever let Dax talk you into playing. She'll clean you out before you even know what hit you.”

 

“Ha,” Leeta snorted. “Don't let this one talk you into playing kotra.” She jutted a thumb sideways at Garak. “It's addictive, and he'll always beat you.”

 

“I want to learn how to play!” Ziyal chimed in.

 

“I'll be happy to teach you,” he said. “Maybe the major would like to learn, too?”

 

Kira's expression softened slightly. She seemed to understand what he was trying to do. “When I get a little spare time, sure. We'll order some take out. Is the game portable?”

 

“Quite,” he said, nodding.

 

“Then we'll invite you over and feed you, and you can teach us.”

 

Ziyal hid her disappointment well, but Garak saw a small flash of it. “That sounds like fun,” she said with a bright smile. He knew she looked for opportunities to spend time alone with him, and he was just as determined to ensure that most of their interactions remained public or chaperoned.

 

“Dessert?” Mayna asked, appearing suddenly in that odd way waiters had. He held up his hands quickly at the pained groans. “I'll take that as a no,” he said. “Can I at least interest you in raktajinos?”

 

Kira and Ziyal perked, but Leeta and Garak shook their heads. “I'm of the age that if I drink something with that much caffeine, I'll be up all night,” Garak said.

 

“Hey!” Leeta frowned. “I'm not old, and it does that to me.”

 

“Two,” Kira said, grinning and holding her fingers up.

 

“I'm not old, either, Leeta,” he huffed with a light sniff.

 

“No, of course not. Dignified,” she said. He pretended he didn't hear the mocking tone in the word.

 

“Rarefied,” Kira added, smirking.

 

“Well?” he glanced at Ziyal, raising an eye ridge. “Don't you have something to add, since it's pile on the tailor time?”

 

“Well preserved,” she said, her lips trembling again from her effort not to crack a smile.

 

“Like a pickle,” Leeta added.

 

“Don't go there,” Kira deadpanned.

 

“Excuse me!” Garak said, eyes wide as he stood. There was no way he could sit there with the three of them howling like riding hounds, even if it was funny. He made his way with as much dignity as he could muster to the refresher to wash his hands and give voice to his more subtle amusement without the entire café in audience. He was happy they had such a good time, but he determined that he wouldn't take a public outing with those three again without Julian, Rom, or both as a buffer. He was simply grateful that Cardassians didn't blush. They were too much.

 

He returned to find Kira and Ziyal sipping at their raktajinos. The two full blooded Bajorans still had reddish faces, although it seemed they had finally overcome their wild laughter. When he retook his seat, Leeta squeezed his hand under the table and shot him a briefly searching look. Touched by her concern, he gave her a squeeze in return and shook his head very subtly. He hadn't been offended. Her smile blossomed warmly, and she sat back again. “This was a great idea, Garak,” she said. “I'm so glad you convinced Nerys to come along. I've always wanted the opportunity to get to know her better, but our work schedules have been so crazy for the longest time.”

 

“That's true,” Kira said, nodding. “I see you at the bar all the time, but usually you're right there next to the dabo wheel. Julian and Dax both speak very highly of you. I'm glad we did this, too.” She shot a quick glance and half smile at Garak.

 

“It was the sweetest thing ever of you two to surprise me like that,” Ziyal said, impulsively reaching her hands to both of them. “I wouldn't have thought in a million years that you'd sit down to dinner together.”

 

“It has been a very pleasant evening,” Garak agreed, his clasp of her hand loose and brief.

 

Suddenly, the entire station rocked hard enough to throw them from their seats. Kira cried out sharply. As Garak tried to pick himself up off the floor, he heard her saying, “Kira to Ops. What the hell just happened?”