Contracts and Obligations Part II

[dark_sinestra]

 

Garak

Leeta's Private Quarters

 

Unsure of exactly what to expect from the lunch invitation, Garak approached Leeta's door, turning the small, wrapped box in his hand. The bud vase had caught his eye a few days before and made him think of her, its colors mixed pastel greens and pinks. He had no excuse to buy her anything without an invitation and had been pleased to discover it still in its shop window once the occasion arose. She let him in on the first hail. The scent that greeted him was appetizing and familiar. Korfa fish?

 

“I'm so glad you could make it,” she said, beaming at him warmly and approaching for a hug. She accepted the box graciously and opened it while he watched. “Oh, Garak, it's perfect!” she said. “You really do know my tastes.” She set it on a small table among a few other knick-knacks. It looked as though it had always been there. “So,” she said, turning to favor him with another smile, “I have to admit, I had an ulterior motive in inviting you here to lunch.”

 

“Really?” he asked. He had suspected as much, wondering if she intended to quiz him about Julian.

 

“Yes,” she said, pulling out a chair for him at the table. “I've been watching Aroya in her kitchen and helping out when she lets me. I wanted to try a few recipes on my own, and I needed someone with discriminating tastes to test them out on. I hope you're not mad?”

 

It was all he could do not to laugh aloud. Angry at something like that? She truly didn't know him very well if she thought such a thing. “Not at all, my dear,” he said with one of his warmer smiles. “I'm flattered.”

 

“Reserve that thought until you've tasted it,” she said, pushing in the chair under him while he took the seat. She uncovered the various dishes on the table. “Korfa fish,” she said of the first. “I marinaded it overnight and seared it to make a crisp crust. Aroya had a surplus of Andorian tuber roots, so I slow roasted them and topped them with a grelf herb crumble. She said it was a bold choice, but she didn't try to talk me out of it, so...” she made a human gesture he had seen from Julian from time to time, crossing her index and middle fingers. “And then I tried to make her wilted greens salad. I already know I got a little heavy handed with the dressing. It's a little oilier than it should be. I tried to cut it with some tartness.”

 

Garak waited for her to take her seat and began to serve himself. “If it helps, it all smells very good,” he said.

 

“A far cry from the first time I ever invited you to dinner, isn't it?” she said ruefully. “What a mess. I'm so glad you didn't hold that night against me and decide forever and always that I was a blithering idiot.”

 

“I came close,” he said lightly, blue eyes twinkling.

 

“You know, I don't doubt that,” she said with a laugh. “I want you to be totally honest with me about this food. I know that's asking a lot.”

 

It was his turn for laughter. “And I was just thinking you didn't know me very well. I promise, you'll have my brutal honesty.”

 

She watched him take his first bite of each dish, biting her lip and holding her breath for most of it. He chewed very thoroughly and closed his eyes. Between each, he cleansed his palate with his favored, astringent red leaf tea. He decided to start with the weakest dish and work his way up to her best. “You already know what went wrong with the salad,” he said, “although the texture of the greens was good. You didn't overheat them.”

 

“Yes,” she said, “all the more reason I was so irritated when I poured too much of the dressing. They had a good beginning.”

 

“The grelf overpowered the tubers. They're fairly bland, but they have a pleasant, nutty undertone that the right seasoning brings out. It wasn't unpleasant. I'd say just use less of it next time if you want to go in that direction. I did like how crisp they were at the tops, and I think they worked very well with the fish. I wouldn't change a thing about the fish except to wish that I could eat more of it than I intend to allow myself.”

 

She beamed broadly. “Thank you for being honest. It really means a lot to me. Also, you should know your efforts are starting to pay off. You look really good. Very trim. I thought so when you came in but got distracted by the pretty present.”

 

He inclined his head gratefully. “You're most kind to say so. If you continue to use me for your test subject, I fear my progress will be short lived. Why the sudden interest in cooking, if I may ask?”

 

“It's not really so sudden,” she explained between bites. “It's something that I've wished I could do for a long time. I never had a good teacher. Working at the bar has given me a lot of experience in the hospitality industry, and getting to spend the time with Aroya in her restaurant has made me realize that this is something I truly enjoy. I wouldn't mind owning my own restaurant someday. I've got great mentors, even if Quark hasn't intended to be. Just listening to him and watching him has taught me a lot about the money side of it. I know there are headaches. Then I see how happy Aroya is despite how hard she works, and I know it would be worth it.”

 

“I'd say you've made a good step in the right direction,” he said pleasantly. “Just a year ago you were burning water, as you say.”

 

“I've missed you,” she said.

 

“I didn't contact you because I wasn't certain how seeing me would make you feel after...”

 

“I know, and I appreciate it. I did need the space,” she said. “You have good instincts. But, that's over now. I want us to start having lunches and dinners again. I want you to kick my butt thoroughly at kotra, and when Rom and I both have nights off on the same nights, I'd like for the three of us to get together and do something fun. Maybe even invite Odo and Aroya if he'd be willing to come.”

 

Garak smiled at the thought. “I'd like that very much.”

 

“Which part of it?” she asked playfully.

 

“All of the above,” he said. “Speaking of Odo and Aroya, how has that moved on your end of things?”

 

“Very well,” she said with emphasis. “She is definitely interested in our stern constable. I thought you were going to set up some sort of 'chance' meeting between those two.”

 

“I am. I've had to wait for things to settle from the explosion and everything else that has been going on. You know Odo. If there's the slightest chance that something could be off, he's not going to relax or be social,” he said. “I'm very glad to hear that she's receptive.” He raised his tea mug to her, and she clacked her mug against it. “You're a worthy co-conspirator,” he told her.

 

“Why thank you,” she said. “It has been my pleasure.” The door chime interrupted their playful banter. “Enter,” Leeta called out. Garak bit back the impulse to chide her for not finding out who it was first.

 

The door hissed open to admit Rom, looking somehow odd to Garak out of his maintenance coveralls. He hardly saw him in anything else these days. “Oh, hi Garak,” he said. “I didn't know you were here. Am I interrupting anything?”

 

“Not at all,” Garak said smoothly. “In fact I was just on my way out.”

 

“You don't have to rush off,” Leeta said.

 

“Yeah,” Rom agreed. “Your being here makes this easier. I don't have to find you later and repeat myself.”

 

Garak didn't bother with a significant look. He was certain Rom either wouldn't read it at all or would read it incorrectly. Well, I tried to give him private time with her. I can hardly be blamed if he refuses to take advantage, he thought with mild exasperation. “You have news?” he asked mildly.

 

Rom nodded and came over to the table, taking a seat at the empty chair across from Garak. “Somebody bought all fifty-two shares of Brother for five hundred bars of gold pressed latinum last night,” he said proudly.

 

Leeta's mouth dropped open. “Five hundred bars?” she asked. “Who?”

 

“That's the weird thing,” Rom said. “It was an anonymous bid. Brother thinks it's the Nagus.”

 

“You don't sound convinced,” Garak observed.

 

“I'm not. I don't think he likes Brother much. He just knows he can use him, because his position out here is so isolated from Ferenginar and he wants so badly to be respected in the business community.” He got a slightly panicked look. “Not that I said that to either of you.”

 

“You know I'd never tell Quark anything you told me,” Leeta said, reaching to squeeze his hand.

 

“Nor I,” Garak added, keeping his hands to himself.

 

“Thanks,” he said, his eyes misting over. “I wish I knew what to do. For so long, all I ever wanted was to have Brother out of the way so that I could have the bar. Now that I don't want the bar, I don't have any reason to want him dead.”

 

“That's so touching,” Garak said a tad dryly.

 

Leeta shot him a warning glare before turning a softer look to Rom. “I don't think you ever really wanted him dead, did you?”

 

“Yes, I did,” he said, nodding vigorously. “I even tried to have him killed once. I almost succeeded. I almost wish I had, because we weren't as close then, and I wouldn't have felt this bad about losing him.”

 

“Look at it this way. He's going to die with family, with someone who loves him at his side. How many of us get to say that?” Garak asked deceptively lightly. After all this time, the loss of his father still hit him at odd moments. He wondered if it always would.

 

Rom wiped his cheeks with the flats of his palms. “You're right,” he said. “I'll need to be strong, not send him off with the sounds of my crying in his ears. It's just hard. I wish Nog could be here.”

 

“Have you heard from him lately?” Leeta asked. “Does he know about his uncle?” She took his hand again and gave it another supportive squeeze. Garak hid his satisfaction at the sight.

 

“He sent me a message while Brother was on Ferenginar. He has some big exams coming up he's worried about. I don't want to distract him with this. There's nothing he can do, anyway. He and Brother aren't exactly close.”

 

“It may not feel like it, but you're coping well with this,” Garak said, pushing to his feet. He felt that it was high time to leave. For one thing, emotional scenes were hardly his best venues, and for another, he believed that Leeta could do Rom far more good than he could. She was a natural at this sort of thing. “I hate to leave, but I do have to get back to my shop. If you need anything, you know how to find me.”

 

Rom nodded. “Thanks, Garak. I'll probably stop by the shop either today or tomorrow. I need to have a funeral suit made.”

 

Garak reached to squeeze his shoulder. Leeta met his gaze over Rom's bent head, her look seeming to say that she'd take care of things from there. He inclined his head slightly, offered her the trace of a smile, and took his leave. He decided he'd stop by Aroya's briefly to try to solidify arrangements for her introduction to Odo. Best to strike while she was malleable. Timing was so important for these sorts of things.

 

Julian

The Infirmary

 

Julian keyed the final two entries into the medical database and sat back with a tremendous sigh of satisfaction. He was caught up with everything that had fallen behind and could finally focus on current deadlines. It felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Maybe he could finally focus on scheduling the trip to Risa Leeta had mentioned. A little of his good mood slipped away at the thought. It wasn't that he didn't believe that ultimately things had worked out for the best—Leeta wanted more than he had to give at this time in his life—he just wished that it hadn't happened so painfully for either of them.

 

“Doctor,” Nurse Frendel said, sticking his head around the office door jamb, “before you leave, you have a subspace transmission coming in from Ferenginar. Would you like to take it back here?”

 

“Ferenginar?” he asked, puzzled and intrigued both. “Yes, Frendel, put it through. Thank you.”

 

A wizened Ferengi countenance peered at him from his screen with beady eyes nearly buried in wrinkled folds. “You Doctor Bashir?” he asked suspiciously.

 

“That's right,” Julian said, nodding, “and you are?”

 

“Doctor Orpax,” the Ferengi said with obvious pride. He seemed to expect Julian to recognize the name and scowled when he realized that he didn't. “I have a message for Quark. You know him, right?”

 

“Yes,” Julian said, “I know Quark.” He didn't add that over half the time he wished that he didn't.

 

“Good,” the doctor said. “Tell him...” He pursed his lips and made an expression of distaste, adding in a great rush, “Tell him I'm very sorry, but he doesn't have Dorek Syndrome.”

 

“Dorek Syndrome?” he asked. “What's that?”

 

“Never mind that. Will you tell him, or not?” the old Ferengi snapped.

 

“I'll tell him,” he said. Before he could say another word, the doctor ended the transmission. “Well, that was interesting,” he murmured. As he intended to stop by the bar anyway after work, it wasn't an inconvenience to deliver the message right away. He signed out for the night and headed over to the bar to do just that.

 

The result was even more intriguing than the message had been. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen Quark so excited about anything. He was somewhat irritated when he realized that the bar owner thought he had a fatal disorder and hadn't bothered to come see him for confirmation. He decided against saying that “hew-mon” doctors, as Quark put it, would be more familiar with Ferengi physiology if they weren't so mistrustful and actually bothered to come in to get physicals now and again. It wouldn't make a difference and would just give Quark an excuse to get sarcastic. He ordered a drink from one of the waiters and took it to an empty table so that he could unwind from his day.

 

“Chief!” he called out to Miles when he saw him approaching the bar. The man waved to acknowledge him, hurriedly placed his drink order, and then came to join him. “How's Keiko doing?” he asked.

 

“Better,” Miles said. “She's still sore and not movin' around on her own much. I stopped by several times during th' day to check on her, and I'll be headin' home as soon as I finish this ale. She insisted I get out for a few. Y' know how she is.”

 

“I do,” Julian said, nodding and smiling. “As stubborn as a certain head engineer I know, only in a different way.”

 

“More stubborn,” he said humorously. The humor faded. He rolled his ale glass from side to side in his hands. Julian could tell he was working up to saying something and knew better than to interrupt the process. “I've been thinkin',” he said slowly, glancing over at Julian and back to his ale. “Not havin' th' baby...inside her...has Keiko tied in all kinds o' knots. Now, I know what y' told me about hormones and all that, but...do y' think it might help her t' have Major Kira around more often?”

 

Julian thought about it for a moment. “Yes,” he said. “Of course it would. Being able to see that he's all right, being able to feel when he kicks or moves. Kira told me she'd make herself available to Keiko any time she wanted when she was off duty. Has she not been?”

 

“Oh, no, it's nothin' like that. Kira has been great. Keiko said she stopped by an' saw her twice today already. I'm thinkin'...I'm thinkin' of somethin' more,” he said with another furtive glance. “I'm thinkin' of invitin' her to come live with us during th' pregnancy. What do you think?”

 

Julian blinked, his mouth falling open in mild shock. “That's a pretty drastic step. Are you sure it's what you want to do? Have you talked to Keiko about this?”

 

“Not yet. I don't think she'd object, though. Y' haven't seen her. Molly is tryin' her best t' make her feel better, but this has taken so much out of her, literally. I have t' admit, it would give me some peace of mind, too.”

 

“I suppose it can't hurt to ask,” he said slowly, still boggled internally by what Miles had said. He didn't think things would go very smoothly, particularly if Miles tried to dictate what Kira did. “Just don't pressure her. This situation is difficult for her, too, even if she doesn't show it. If she doesn't want to move, it's not reasonable to expect it of her, all right?”

 

Miles drained the rest of his glass in a swallow. “Y' know me better than that,” he said.

 

Julian gave him a flat, level look.

 

“All right, all right!” Miles said. “No pressure. I swear it. I'd better go. I want t' run this by Keiko an' see if we can't get this settled tonight one way or th' other.” He stood. “I'll let y' know how it goes.”

 

Julian nodded and hid his smile behind a swallow of ale. “You'd better,” he said to his retreating back. Once he was gone, he shook his head, doubting seriously that Miles had any idea what he was about to get himself into, particularly if Kira said yes.

 

Garak

Garak's Clothiers

 

As Garak turned to walk toward his stock room with Quark, he could feel Rom's eyes on his back, his dismay and accusation a palpable touch. He felt dubious, to say the least, about Quark's proposal, yet in the interest of fairness...oh, who was he kidding? The simple fact was that he found the entire situation patently ridiculous, and he enjoyed the idea of having the chance to make Quark squirm. He tuned back in to what Quark was saying. “Nothing painful! Or slow. There's nothing in the contract that says I have to suffer.” The Ferengi paused and eyed him fearfully. “You won't make me suffer, will you, Garak?”

 

Garak offered him a subtly layered smile, one that on the surface was meant to look as though he intended it to be reassuring, when in actuality he intended anything but. “It's the furthest thing from my mind,” he said pleasantly. He paused at a rustling sound coming from his changing room. He had all but forgotten Morn in the sudden excitement.

 

“Garak!” Quark said sharply, “I mean it. Are you even listening to me? This is serious!”

 

Garak widened his eyes. “Believe me, there's nothing I take more seriously, but I do also have a legitimate business to run, and,” he dropped his voice, “one of the most notorious gossips on the station sequestered in one of my changing rooms. Do you want one of the Starfleeters hearing about our little...arrangement? Even I would find it difficult to carry out my task from within a holding cell.”

 

Quark waved him away impatiently and made a poor showing of looking through the sale rack at the back of the shop while Garak finished up his transaction with Morn. Fortunately, the Lurian seemed more interested in getting out of there with his new pants than in bending Garak's ear about one of his countless siblings or his latest mishap in love. Rom was nowhere to be seen. Garak wondered if he should let him in on the fact that he had no serious intent to kill his brother and quickly decided against it. Rom would never be able to keep it to himself.

 

Once Morn was gone, Garak closed up shop so that he and Quark could continue their conversation uninterrupted. “If you're serious about this,” Garak said, taking up a PADD and typing an outrageously high figure into the interface, “I'll want half up front, non-refundable.”

 

Quark took the PADD, his eyes bulging. “You're insane,” he said. “I'll give you half that.”

 

“That's what I just said,” Garak said placidly, “up front. The rest can be set aside in a trust to be transferred to my account upon your death.”

 

Quark sputtered. “This is extortion!”

 

“Well,” he said, “I'm sure you can find someone else to carry out your plan. You deal with all sorts, after all, transients who have no need to worry about their reputation, who can leave without repercussions, and who will be taking far less of a risk than you're asking of me.” He could tell that Quark was considering it. “By the same token,” he added, “those same...associates...have no real incentive to do the job cleanly. After all, once you're dead, what are you going to do? Sue them for breach of contract?”

 

To his surprise, Quark gave his thumb print with little more than an under the breath grumble. He kept both his surprise and satisfaction to himself. It wasn't that he was greedy or even particularly hurting for money. It was the fact that it was Quark he was dealing with, a man who repeatedly got away with things that would land Garak in a holding cell in a heartbeat, simply because Starfleet and the Bajorans found him useful. He would never say it aloud to anyone, but at times he resented the bar owner for that. “So,” Quark said, giving him back the PADD, “what do you have in mind? For how to kill me, I mean? At that price, I had better love it.”

 

“I'm afraid death by Oomax is out,” Garak said lightly. “You don't have enough in your accounts for that.” Quark's disgusted expression filled him with secret glee. Yes, this was going to be supremely entertaining. “I think it would be much easier for me to show you than to tell you.”

 

Quark backed up quickly, banging the back of his head against the wall. “Not so fast!” he squeaked. “I want to talk about it first!”

 

Garak offered another pseudo-reassuring smile. “You misunderstand. Why don't you meet me in one of your holosuites in say...two hours?”

 

“What for?” the Ferengi asked suspiciously.

 

“A holographic demonstration. It will be much clearer for you if you can see the method rather than have me describe it to you. It will also help...acclimate you to the idea of your impending demise,” he said helpfully.

 

Quark looked dubious. “All right,” he said finally. “Holosuite three. No killing! Not until we decide on the method. Besides, I need a little time to set up the transfer for the remainder of the balance for after my death, and I'll need your thumb print.”

 

“I think you'll be very pleased,” Garak said with confidence. He held his chuckle until after Quark left his shop. Once he was gone, he had the computer lock the door once more. Holo-programming took time and concentration. Fortunately, the computer had all of the data it needed for the parameters. He just needed to invent the scenarios. He hummed under his breath while he worked and ignored the persistent chime of his door. He knew it was Rom. He couldn't afford to be reassuring. Besides, if Quark couldn't come up with an alternative way to deal with the liquidator, he decided that he would be the one to do it. Every time that toad showed up, it meant pain and sorrow for his friends and disruptions on the Promenade. It would never do to allow Rom to get mixed up in that business. He read Garak just well enough that he would almost surely know he was up to no good.

 

About fifteen minutes before he was due to meet Quark, he left his shop. Rom ambushed him before he could get the door locked behind him. “Garak, you can't do this,” he said harshly, grabbing him by the arm.

 

Garak shook him off and turned gimlet blue eyes upon him. “I can, and I am. This is between me and Quark. Stay out of it.”

 

Undeterred, Rom fell into step beside him. “If you keep trying to go through with this...I'll tell Captain Sisko!”

 

Garak stopped walking and turned on him so swiftly he took three steps back. “Listen to me,” he said intensely. “This liquidator is serious. He doesn't care how he gets what he paid for, but he means to have it.” He glanced around to be certain no one was close enough to overhear them. “Now, do you want your brother handled by someone who actually has his comfort in mind, or do you want Brunt hiring some more Nausicaans or someone worse? Think about it!”

 

“But...” Rom said, clearly wracking his brain for a logical retort.

 

“But what? Quark is a businessman. Nothing is more important to him, not you, not Nog, not anyone. You say you love him? Then let him handle his affairs as he sees fit. Don't interfere. Not only will he not thank you for it, you will just get him killed in a far worse way.” He didn't enjoy what he was saying, but he knew that if he couldn't get Rom to back off quickly, the man could get in the way of his real plan and get himself hurt, even killed.

 

“I...I thought I knew you,” Rom said, backing up further, “but I don't. I don't know you at all. I'll tell you this. If you kill Brother, I promise you'll regret it.” He turned quickly and stalked away.

 

Garak watched him warily. As fond as he was of Rom, he knew he wouldn't hesitate to kill him in self-defense. He dearly hoped the Ferengi held off of doing anything stupid. His dislike of Brunt dug in deeper. The station was a small one, his circle of friends smaller. Anything and anyone who managed to cause that degree of disruption on a regular basis had to go. He strolled into Quark's and up to the holosuite as though he hadn't a care in the world. When he activated the program, he worked out much of his frustration at the situation on the holographic Quark. It felt good. It felt better than good. For a brief time, it felt almost like the old days, and it stirred his blood like little else had since before he arrived on this forsaken hunk of junk in space.