Red Sky at Morning--Part I

[dark_sinestra]

Author Notes: This time I decided to do something a little different. It always bugged me to death that there was no real follow through to Life Support, and it was a recurring complaint I had with DS9, that many of their recurring character deaths had no aftermath and no apparent consequences. This story doesn't follow the plot of any other episode, and it takes place between Life Support and Heart of Stone, my version of an episode that never was but that I think should have been. I also branch away from just Julian's and Garak's points of view, covering some of Kira's and Odo's thoughts and reactions, too. Overall, I'm pleased with the way it turned out, and I hope you enjoy it, too.

Summary: In the wake of the new treaty between Cardassia and Bajor, Bajor mourns the loss of one of its own. Complications arise, as not everyone is happy with the tenuous peace and will stop at nothing to bring it to an end. Will Major Kira, Odo, Doctor Bashir, and Garak be able to prevent catastrophe, or have events been set into motion that are too large to be contained?

Author: Dark Sinestra

Date Written: December, 2009

Category: Slash

Rating: Mild R for implied sexual intimacy, mild adult language, strong adult themes, and violence.

Disclaimer: The plot is mine, but alas the characters and settings are not. I love them anyway.

Word Count: 20,229


Red sky at night, sailor's delight. Red sky at morning, sailors take warning. --Old Earth Proverb

 

Julian

Garak's Quarters

 

As Julian rolled over, his hand flopped onto a hard, ridged plane. Emerging from sleep like a swimmer breaking the surface of a warm lake, he smiled to himself. It hadn't been a dream. He was in bed with his Elim, and after their brief conversation before he fell asleep, he was pretty sure this wasn't a one time fluke. He pressed his palm flat over the slowly rising and falling chest of his sleeping companion. Despite being sore in pretty much every part of his body, he didn't believe he had felt better in a very long time. Then he recalled the reason he came to Garak in the first place and felt an intense stab of guilt. How could he lie there, acting like the cat that ate the canary, when Vedek Bareil was dead, and Nerys was hurting? He rubbed his cheek lightly against the man's shoulder, pressed a soft kiss, and rolled to get up.

 

Garak's fingers coiled loosely about his bruised wrist before he could stand. “Did you really think I wouldn't awaken?” he asked.

 

“It took you longer than it usually does,” he said with a shrug and a slight smile. “I thought perhaps you needed your rest.”

 

“They'll want you on Bajor soon,” the Cardassian said, tugging a bit harder. “But I don't think they'll begrudge you a few minutes.”

 

He allowed himself to be pulled back into the bed, stretching lengthwise next to his lover. The slow, sensual kisses, such a contrast from the night before, made him wish that he had all day to stay. If they did nothing more than that, he'd be satisfied. The tailor's fingers kneaded broad circles in his back muscles, somehow avoiding the sore bite that he reminded himself to treat later, just in case. Cardassian bites weren't nearly as prone to going septic as human ones. Even so, he was never one to push his luck with such things. “Why are you being so nice to me?” he asked, the change in attitude so profound it made him suspicious.

 

“Because I was anything but nice last night,” Garak admitted.

 

The doctor shook his head and laid his index finger against the man's firm lips. “Not another word about that, now or ever. I don't care if you were angry or vindictive. I loved everything you did to me, and I wouldn't change it for anything.” He looked him in the eyes until he saw concession. One advantage of Garak's uncanny ability to read him was that it was ridiculously easy to convince him that he was telling the truth when he actually was. A sudden thought struck him. “You should come to Bajor with me.”

 

“And slap every single Bajoran in the face with my presence? I think not,” Garak said.

 

“This is different,” the doctor insisted. “Vedek Bareil gave his life for a treaty of peace between your people and the Bajorans. To hear Kai Winn talk, you'd think he was barely an accessory to the fact when he was that treaty. Legate Turrel was leaving early this morning to return to Cardassia. You're the only representative of your people here, quite possibly the only one who knows the truth of how this treaty came to pass. Your presence there would send a strong message reinforcing what that man gave his life to do.”

 

Garak's look grew thoughtful. “Talk to Major Kira,” he said at last. “Find out how she feels about this. I have no desire to cause her further pain.”

 

Julian couldn't help his surprised reaction. “I thought you couldn't stand her.”

 

“There is still a good deal about me that you don't know or understand,” he said simply. “Ask her, and Julian, if she says no, don't push her. I know how persistent you can be,” he said a bit dryly.

 

After a quick breakfast and a stop in the infirmary to self-treat the bite wound, Julian discovered that Major Kira was in the station's Bajoran temple along with every other Bajoran on the station who could clear their schedule. He didn't know what they were doing, although he didn't believe that it was the actual funeral. He was almost certain that would be held on Bajor itself. He heard repetitive chanting and realized it must be the death chant. Feeling like an intruder, he slipped away to the infirmary but kept an eye on the Promenade for a sudden flux of Bajorans. Eventually, he saw what he was watching for.

 

He stepped into the crowd and walked against the flow, gently touching shoulders as he eased by. Eventually, he spotted her and made his way to her side. He struggled with what to say, for although as a doctor he had lost many patients in his time, dealing with grieving loved ones was never routine or simple. She took the choice out of his hands, offering him a tremulous smile and saying, “Doctor, I know he would have wanted me to thank you for respecting his wishes, and for...” her voice wavered, but she got it under control quickly, “doing the right thing by him in the end. And I want to thank you for standing up for him and being his advocate when I...when I couldn't.”

 

“Nerys,” he said gently, “he never had a stronger advocate than you.”

 

She quickly lifted a hand to swipe at her eyes. “Thank you, Julian,” she said, her voice trembling more. She took several deep breaths, sounding more in control afterward. “Funeral arrangements are being made as we speak. I would appreciate very much if you'd come down to Bajor with me and sit with me. Word has already spread of the efforts you made to save his life. It would mean a lot to my people, and to me.”

 

“Of course,” he said, “I'd be honored.” He felt bad about bringing up Garak, but he genuinely believed that having him there would do more good than harm. “Nerys,” he said, his brows drawing together and upward at the center, “I want to ask you something, and I...I know it's going to be difficult to hear.”

 

She stopped walking and touched him lightly on the back of the hand, drawing him aside into an alcove. “Ask,” she said sincerely, meeting his gaze squarely.

 

He realized then that things had changed profoundly between them. Whereas before, she tolerated him and perhaps liked him in an abstract sort of way, now she viewed him with respect and gratitude. She was treating him as an equal. He forced himself to hold the black gaze and willed her to understand his reasoning. “I...want to invite Garak to the funeral,” he said.

 

“Julian!” she said with such hurt reproach he immediately regretted the decision. However, he knew that if he backed down from it without even offering an explanation, she would believe he asked for purely selfish reasons, which couldn't be further from the truth.

 

“Vedek Bareil believed in this treaty,” he said earnestly, “with everything he had. Legate Turrel is gone, and Winn is already over-inflating her importance in the negotiations. Garak knows what Bareil did, and he respects it. You and I both know that extremist factions on both worlds are just looking for an excuse to undermine the hard work. Having a Cardassian presence at the funeral will underscore his importance and remind people of who really made this happen.”

 

She narrowed her eyes and folded her arms tightly beneath her breasts. “Did Garak put you up to this?” she asked.

 

“No. In fact, when I suggested it to him, he said he'd have no part of it if you didn't agree wholeheartedly, and he instructed me specifically not to push you. Nerys, I'm not pushing, but I wanted you to understand my reasons for asking.”

 

She reacted with surprise to that, her expression growing troubled, and then thoughtful. “It does make sense,” she said quietly. She sighed. “More importantly, it's exactly the sort of thing Antos would have wanted. All right, Julian, he can come, but if we're bringing him, we should probably bring Odo, too.”

 

“Surely you don't believe he'd try something in the runabout or on Bajor?” he asked.

 

Once more, she gave him her reproach, though not as forcefully as when he first broached the subject. “No,” she said impatiently, “but I wouldn't put it past someone on Bajor to try to do something to him.”

 

He hadn't even considered that, frowning. “You're right,” he said. It was on the tip of his tongue to suggest they scrap the whole idea when he realized just how selfish that would be. Garak, himself, must have known the inherent danger in what Julian was proposing. If he was willing to make the gesture, and another man had already given his life to make that gesture possible, who was Julian to balk, particularly while facing the woman who had the difficult task of continuing after loss? “If you want us to ride separately, or sit somewhere else...” he offered.

 

Her jaw tightened to a determined look he had come to know well. “No,” she said. “If we're going to do this, then we're going to do this all the way. He'll sit with us. It's what Antos would've wanted.”

 

He respected her so much in that moment, and he wanted nothing more than to pull her into the tightest hug he could manage to comfort her. She wouldn't want that, though. Her control was already hanging by a thread. Any such gesture on his part could completely unravel it, and he knew she'd be mortified. “If you need anything,” he said, reaching to squeeze her shoulder and leaving his hand there a few moments longer than he normally would, “please, don't hesitate to ask.”

 

She took a deep breath. “There is one thing,” she said. At his nod of encouragement, she continued. “Please, tell Garak that unless I talk to him, I don't want him talking to me. I'm sorry,” she added quickly, “but the last thing I can take right now is some sort of misguided attempt at comforting me from a Cardassian.”

 

“I understand,” he said, and he did. “I think he'll understand, too. Were situations reversed, he would almost certainly feel the same way.”

 

She nodded. “Thank you. I should go. I have a million things to do before we leave.”

 

He watched her hurry away with mixed feelings about the whole idea, but he still felt that it was the right thing to do. He walked to Garak's shop to let him know what had been decided. After that he had several things to tend, himself, such as finalizing his notes and record of the Vedek's passing and making certain that staffing would be adequate in his absence.

 

Garak

USS Mekong, heading Bajor

 

Seated toward the back of the runabout, Garak did his best to be unobtrusive. Julian and Odo piloted, and Major Kira sat midway between them and Garak. The only words he had exchanged with the woman took place right before they boarded. He had simply asked her if she was certain she was all right with having him there. Her reply had been less than encouraging, that what she wanted was secondary in this matter. Although he understood the custom and need to respect the dead, he would never understand the desire to live one's life following supposed wishes or dictates of them. The dead had no wishes. Desire was the purview solely of the living.

 

He had never seen a Bajoran burial of state. He thought of his and his father's—he would always think of Tolan Garak as his father—work in the Tarlak Sector on Cardassia Prime, tending the gardens and monuments to Cardassia's great fallen, and felt a deep ache. He missed Tolan's stoic wisdom and gruff affection. In all his life, perhaps aside from his Julian, he believed that no one, not even Mila, had ever loved him more.

 

He thought of the Bajoran burials he had seen, grubby affairs of half starved people keening ancient words over broken bodies and scrabbling in the dirt, sometimes with their bare hands, to give a proper send off to their deceased. Inadvertently, he cast Bareil and Kira in the roles, and he felt his gut clench, for a very brief moment wondering if he'd be ill. He knew his people, his government. Was it sedition to hope that for once, their intentions were at least somewhat straightforward? You've been gone from home too long, he thought direly. You don't even sound like yourself anymore. A quieter, more insidious voice asked, Is that so bad? He grunted softly. When Kira whipped her head around, he turned it into a convincing cough. She looked away just as quickly.

 

Eventually, Julian and Odo brought the runabout into synchronous orbit of Bajor. Garak, Julian, and Kira gathered their bags, Odo his bucket, and the four transported down to the surface. Several vedeks stepped from the front doors of Bareil's former monastery to greet them. “If you'll please come this way, we have rooms prepared for you,” a fair haired man in the lead said. “I'm sure you'll want to refresh yourselves after your journey.”

 

“Thank you, Daran,” Kira said, stepping to the fore of their small group. “This is Doctor Julian Bashir,” she gestured at Julian. Garak noticed the shift in expressions. They knew very well who Julian was, and they respected him greatly. “Deep Space Nine's Security Chief, Odo,” she continued, and they seemed to know who Odo was, too, “and Garak, the tailor who lives on the station.” Oh, yes, they knew who he was, also, all but two of them showing a subtle negative reaction. He knew Odo would see it, but he wondered about Julian and Kira. He was more curious about the two who didn't react than those who did. He inclined his head in the traditional way of his people and followed along with them.

 

The heavy wooden doors swung shut behind them, closing with a dull thud. Garak felt a small shiver crawl over his scalp. He never liked that sound. It didn't matter that the courtyard was spacious and laid out in a pleasing way. There was a closed, locked door at his back, and tall, thick walls encircled the monastery compound. He focused instead on the sky above him with its lacy tracery of high white clouds. It was too blue by far and more humid than he cared for, but he breathed the fresh air deeply, regretting when they led the group inside.

 

The wide foyer smelled of jumja wax candles and mapa bread. One of the vedeks who hadn't shown a negative reaction to Garak stepped to his side. He tensed slightly. “I'll be taking you to your quarters,” the woman said to him pleasantly.

 

“You'll be taking us to our quarters,” Odo corrected her, stepping up beside Garak.

 

“Of course,” she said, not missing a beat. “Right this way, but if you change your mind, we do have a room set aside for you.”

 

“I won't be changing my mind,” Odo grated.

 

“I'll catch up to you in a bit,” Julian called to him as he and Major Kira were led toward a different corridor.

 

He didn't like to admit how glad he was that Odo was there. The entire situation had him on edge. He had no faith in the inherent goodness of vedeks, or any other sort of priests for that matter. He had even less faith in Bajorans and their intentions when it came to him. He and Odo followed the woman down a narrower, darker passageway. The scent of bread and candles faded, replaced with the dry scent of dust. Looking down, he noticed that a thin layer of it lined the floor, interrupted at the center by the recent passage of feet, not including their own.

 

“Here we are,” she said, opening the arched door and letting the two precede her inside the small room. It had no window and a somewhat stale scent, although someone had tried to remedy that with a plate of freshly picked leaves of some sort. Their astringent fragrance lent an antiseptic touch, not at all pleasant to his refined sense of smell. The bed didn't seem to belong in the room, as it was cleaner than the rickety shelves lining the wall opposite it. Something had been stored on those shelves that was no longer there, recently removed if he was to believe the dust rings illuminated by dim, yellowish artificial light.

 

Hiding the silver while the riff raff comes to visit? He thought sardonically.

 

“We thought you might be more comfortable away from the main areas of foot traffic,” she explained solicitously. “If you'd prefer other quarters, it can be arranged, of course.”

 

“No,” he said, “this is fine. Thank you for your hospitality.” He was careful to keep his internal sarcasm to himself. Sticking someone in what was obviously an old storeroom was anything but hospitable by any standards of which he was aware.

 

She pressed her hands together and gave him a small bow. “You're free to explore the grounds as you like, but please be back within the main building by sun down. We lock the doors then, and we don't open them again until morning. Also, please stay away from the temple. We're asking that everyone except members of our order stay out.”

 

“Understood,” Odo said, setting his bucket down beneath the lowest shelf.

 

“If you need anything, ask for Alith. That's me,” she said, gifting both of them a pretty smile and hurrying away.

 

“I suppose I'm expected to find the facilities while I'm 'exploring',” Garak said dryly.

 

Odo snorted softly. “I wouldn't recommend you do too much wandering about. No matter what she said, I get the feeling they won't appreciate running into you unexpectedly.”

 

“Really?” Garak asked, giving the changeling his best innocent face.

 

“Don't start, Garak,” he said, shaking his head. “My job is going to be difficult enough as it is. I don't like the way they were looking at you.”

 

“Alith and my unknown male admirer?” he asked.

 

Odo favored him with a long, considering look. “Exactly.” With a wet sound, he shifted to golden liquid and snaked about Garak's waist. Seconds later, Garak had a new belt.

 

He sighed, feeling very put upon. Having Odo look out for him was one thing. Having to wear Odo was another matter. “Really, Constable,” he said testily, “if you're going to do that, at least match my shoes.”

 

The belt buckle formed a mouth, “Garak...” it warned.

 

“I'm serious!” he said. “No one will believe it isn't you, otherwise.”

 

“Fine,” the belt said with Odo's voice, rippling and changing to an exact match of the material of his ankle boots.

 

“Also, Constable, if you could try not talking? Having a conversation with my belt is a tad too surreal for my taste at the best of times, and this is not the best of times.”

 

“Hmph,” it said and then stilled, the buckle reshaping to resemble plain metal.

 

Garak picked up the plate of leaves and headed back down the corridor. As he walked, he took a close look at the tracks in the dust. As far as he could tell, they happened when a couple of people were bringing the bed. Here and there, he saw where they may have set it down and a couple of spots where a leg briefly dragged. He bent and swiped a finger over one of the drag marks. No dust. So the bed was moved very recently, probably when they were informed he was coming.

 

He emerged back in the foyer, looking for a place to dump the smelly leaves. He almost bumped into Kira and Julian as they emerged from their wing. “What are you doing with a plate of deka leaves?” Kira asked.

 

“Trying to dispose of them, Major. They were in my room, and I'm afraid I find the scent unbearable.”

 

She briefly tucked her upper lip behind her lower teeth. “I wouldn't move those if I were you,” she said.

 

“Why not?” he asked.

 

“They're usually used to keep vermin out. If they had a plate in your room, you might be subject to night visitors without them,” she replied. “Where is your room, anyway, and for that matter, where's Odo?”

 

The belt squeezed him lightly. He almost jumped, pushing his stomach out forcefully as though to say, Stop that! “My room is down this way,” he showed her the corridor. “As for the Constable, I believe he's off somewhere getting the lay of the land.” He eyed the leaves and considered. “Are you sure they aren't just trying to send me a message, Major?” he asked.

 

She made an impatient noise. “They're not like that here,” she said, snatching the plate out of his hand. A few thin leaves drifted downward. “Come on. I'll show you.”

 

Cutting a glance at Julian, he followed in her wake, regretting his decision more and more by the moment. She shoved open his door and immediately began looking along the base of the walls close to the floor. “Aha,” she said, pointing. “There. You see that?”

 

He dutifully looked and noticed a small, unevenly gnawed hole. He frowned, “Why don't they stop it up with something?”

 

“Because if they do, it will just chew another hole somewhere else,” she said, glancing around the small room. She frowned slightly and set the plate near the hole. “I could have them give you another room. This looks like some old storage room. If they were keeping food in here, the leaves might not be enough to stop the tikkas.”

 

“What happens if these...tikkas...come into my room in the night?” he asked warily.

 

“They won't hurt you, but they might get into your things. If they do, they'll shred your folded clothes and scent mark. It's...hard to get out.”

 

Lovely, he thought. “No, Major, I don't want to be an imposition on the vedeks. They went through the trouble of getting the bed in here. It would be rude of me to turn my nose up at the accommodations.”

 

“It's rude of them to stick you in a storeroom,” Julian murmured. Garak shot him a warning look.

 

She lifted his bag from the bed and stuffed it on the highest shelf. “They'd have a hard time getting to it up there,” she said. “That should keep your things safe for the short amount of time we intend to be here. Did Alith show you where the communal facilities are?” He shook his head. “Come on then. I'll take you there.”

 

“I'm going outside to get some fresh air,” Julian said. “You can come find me later if you like, Garak.”

 

“Thank you, Doctor,” he said politely. He didn't know if Julian had told Major Kira or Odo yet that they were back together, and being private as a rule, he didn't intend to show it overtly, particularly given the circumstances.

 

He followed Major Kira down the wider, better lit corridor all the way to the end. They turned right, and she pushed open a heavy door. “You're aware that there are no differentiated facilities for men and women here, right?” she asked him.

 

He hadn't been aware, but he was glad to be told. “I am now, Major,” he said. “Thank you. Is there anything in particular I should avoid doing so as not to offend?”

 

“Basically just don't stare,” she said with a one shouldered shrug. “And don't be afraid to call anyone out for staring at you. They all know better, even the prylars.”

 

He nodded, taking this all in with more outward calm than he felt. Cardassians were a modest people. They didn't readily reveal their bodies, only to close family and lovers, and only in certain circumstances. He didn't like the thought of being walked in on while cleaning himself or in a more vulnerable state of relieving himself. She didn't have to worry that he'd stare. He didn't think he'd be able to lift his gaze from the floor if anyone else were present. He became aware that she was observing him and was immensely grateful for the fact that except in very specific circumstances, Cardassian skin wasn't given to changing shades.

 

“I know it's not...easy...for you to be here,” she said. “When Julian approached me about it, I wasn't thrilled, but...I appreciate the gesture, and I think at least some of my people will, too. I know you're taking a risk. I just...wanted to tell you that.”

 

“Thank you, Major,” he said, inclining his head deeply. “The vedek was a credit to your people.” They held eye contact for the space of a few breaths, something passing between them, although if asked, he couldn't say what.

 

She let out a breath he hadn't been aware she was holding. “I think I'm going to go meditate for a while in my room,” she said. “Would you have Odo or Julian come get me if I don't show up for supper? Sometimes I fall asleep if I go too deep.”

 

“Of course,” he said. They parted company in the corridor. He caught a glimpse of her room as she slipped through the door. It was sunlit and spacious, filled with flowers, and immaculate. If he had needed any further confirmation that Bareil's people were slighting him, that was it.

 

Sighing to himself, he pushed open the heavy front door and walked out into too bright sunlight. Then again, maybe they were trying to be accommodating in their own way. They surely knew of Cardassian sensitivity to bright light. If all of their guest rooms had windows, he would be subject to intense discomfort either in the morning or the afternoon, depending upon which way his window faced. So early in the game, it was impossible to discern their true intent.

 

His feet found a worn path that didn't easily show in the swept dirt of the courtyard. He followed it instinctively, circling around the side of the main living quarters. Dirt gave way to greenery, and as he explored further, he came into what must have been Bareil's arboretum. He had heard several of his customers speak of it in addition to the Major from time to time.

 

As he stood in the cathedral of green, he thought once again of Tolan. How he would have loved to see this, a magical place of running, brown, dimpled water, bright splashes of color where least expected, and sculptures that blended so well with their surroundings that one could almost believe they grew there naturally. His fingers itched to delve into the deep, black dirt, but he knew better than to do any such thing. He doubted that any of the vedeks would take kindly to a Cardassian imposing his own idea of order in their fallen brother's domain.

 

As he turned slowly in place, taking it all in, he thought he saw a flash of orange through thickly clustered leaves. He strode forward quickly. By the time he arrived, there was nothing there save for one suspiciously bobbing leaf. He tapped his “belt” and felt it ripple in response. Odo had seen.

 

“There you are!” Julian exclaimed so loudly that he jumped.

 

“Doctor!” he said in his most put out tone of voice. “How many times have I told you not to sneak up on me like that?”

 

Julian frowned. “I wasn't sneaking. It's not my fault you can't hear normal footsteps on soft ground. It's truly beautiful, isn't it? A real testament to the kind of man Vedek Bareil was.”

 

“It is,” Garak agreed. “It almost makes me wish that I had the chance to get to know him better.”

 

“Almost?” the doctor asked, stepping to his side.

 

Garak turned to look at a bromeliad perched in the crook of a tree just as Julian tried to slip a hand into his. He pretended that he hadn't seen. “Yes, almost. I don't have much patience for religious twaddle, I'm afraid.”

 

“I'm not religious, myself,” the doctor said. “That doesn't mean we have to treat the Bajoran beliefs with dismissive contempt. After all, there really is a wormhole, and there really are aliens living inside it.”

 

“Exactly,” Garak said, glancing at him by turning his body. It was a rare Cardassian who could turn his head at such a sharp angle. “Aliens living in an artificial construct, not prophets living in a temple. Tell me, Doctor, would you think it rational to worship, oh, I don't know...how about the Q Continuum?”

 

“Of course not,” he scoffed. “But if I didn't know who they were, and I lived somewhere they made frequent appearances without revealing their natures or identities, I might be convinced that they were gods. Is that so hard to accept?”

 

Garak fixed him with a brilliant blue gaze. “Any 'gods' that would allow their people to suffer the way the Bajorans did during the occupation deserve to have a mob at their proverbial doorstep with disruptor cannons and phaser banks, not hoards of worshipers chanting ancient chants and hoping everything will somehow turn out all right,” he said. “We Cardassians did the sensible thing long ago and turned our backs on our goddess as soon as she turned her back on us.”

 

“Your goddess?” Julian asked, intrigued. “I didn't know Cardassians ever had a unified religion.”

 

“Cardassians didn't,” Garak replied mysteriously. He refused to elaborate any further, no matter how Julian hounded him with questions. He tipped an eye toward the sky, judging the light level through the treetops. “I believe it's time for us to go inside,” he said. “We don't want to get locked out here until morning, no matter how lovely it is. I doubt the night insects would be gentle on either of us.”

Comments

[idanianspice.livejournal.com]

He sighed, feeling very put upon. Having Odo look out for him was one thing. Having to wear Odo was another matter. “Really, Constable,” he said testily, “if you're going to do that, at least match my shoes.”

Those lines made me choke on my pizza. I'm still laughing, because I can so hear Garak saying this!

Thoroughly enjoying this. I really like YOUR Kira. She's being imminently fair to Garak here, and I really like his solicitude, as well. And Odo frigging rocks!

[dark-sinestra.livejournal.com]

I'm glad you got a laugh out of that. I was giggling nonstop when I wrote that scene.

One of the things I always liked and respected about Kira was that if she committed to something, she went all the way with that. I knew that if she agreed to allow Garak to come along, at least for the duration of the trip, she would treat him like one of the rest of them regardless of her personal feelings. I also like seeing her having to deal with Cardassians as people. It brings out interesting aspects of her personality.

I adore Odo, and as it turns out, he's very fun to write. I almost spit soda when I read the caption for your icon. TOO funny!