Eye of the Needle--Part III, Conclusion

[dark_sinestra]

Julian

Quark's Bar

 

Although he rarely put Garak off when the tailor wished to have dinner with him or otherwise engage him for the evening, he couldn't help himself. He was far too curious about the newly arrived Cardassian scientists and what they were like. He nabbed Miles shortly after his meeting with them in order to get a run down.

 

“They're all right,” the Chief said diffidently as he signaled for Quark to bring them their drinks.

 

“That's not at all vague,” the doctor said playfully.

 

Miles shot him a mildly irritated side glance. “They're about what you'd expect.”

 

“Humor me,” he pressed. “I don't really know what to expect.”

 

“You're in a relationship with one, aren't you?” he asked, turning once he had his ale and putting his back to the bar.

 

Julian lifted his ale and turned, too, suppressing his annoyance. “I'm in a relationship with one Cardassian male, who may or may not be fairly typical of his species. He's not a scientist, and he seems to think that they would be irritating company.”

 

“One of the first honest things that's come from him,” the engineer snorted. At Julian's look, he continued. “Don't go gettin' your back up. I'm not sayin' anything you don't already know. Ulani's all right, I suppose. She heads the team, but that Gilora and Dejar are somethin' else. If I were Garak, I'd be avoidin' 'em, too. Can't say I'm lookin' forward to tomorrow.”

 

“Why? What happens tomorrow?”

 

“Gilora and I have to work things from this end while the others hop through the wormhole on the Defiant and get things situated there,” he said, swigging his ale grimly.

 

“It can't be that bad,” Julian said with a laugh.

 

Miles just eyed him and shook his head. “Much as I'd like to sit here half the night and just forget what I've got to do, I'd better call it an early night. I'm goin' t' need all my ducks in a row to get through tomorrow without takin' off that woman's head or losing my own.”

 

Julian nodded and watched him get underway. Maybe contentiousness was a race trait after all. He doubted that he'd get an honest answer about that from Garak. For all that he had come to know the man at least somewhat during their association, the tailor was famously tight lipped when it came to information about his people. He dropped tantalizing hints here and there, hints that raised more questions than they answered. He wondered how Garak would take it if he arranged to have dinner with one or more of the women just to satisfy his own curiosity. He had never displayed much in the way of jealousy, if he discounted his expression when he walked in on him and Kira that time in the infirmary. However, that could just as easily have been about the oddness of the circumstances or the fact that at the time Kira was someone who hated Garak as it was about Julian's being with someone else. Anyway, they had been broken up at the time.

 

He decided that he was going to go find Garak and bring it up when the Cardassian saved him the trouble by walking into the bar. Before he could go greet him, someone else sidled out of the shadows to approach the tailor. At first he didn't recognize the attractive, mature blond, and then it hit him. Nurse Decla? Never having seen her outside of work, he was fascinated. Had the two arranged to meet? Surely not, because Garak had invited him for dinner, and their dinner dates almost never ended until the next morning. Besides, the tailor had seemed just as surprised to see her as Julian was.

 

He resisted the urge to reveal his presence. The two seemed to be exchanging pleasantries, both looking quite relaxed. He supposed that he should be glad that the nurse was willing to speak to Garak outside of the infirmary setting. So few people ever truly sought his lover out for socializing and conversation. Most of his encounters were secondary results of invitations for Julian. The Cardassian said something, and the woman tipped her head back and laughed a full throated laugh.

 

Whether he ought to be glad or not, he wasn't any longer. Garak may not have been flirting with the woman, but she was flirting with him. He slid from his stool and stopped in his tracks. A Cardassian woman, almost certainly one of the three scientists, approached the duo. She said something that had the Bajoran nurse's expression shifting toward the frosty end of the spectrum. Garak looked mildly apologetic. The nurse excused herself, and Garak allowed the scientist to lead him toward an empty table.

 

He couldn't bring himself to interfere with that encounter. Instead, he decided to intercept his nurse. He didn't think about whether this was a good or bad idea. He was acting on an instinct that wasn't completely within his conscious awareness. “Nurse Decla,” he called to catch her attention before she could become involved with the dabo game she had paused to watch.

 

She craned her neck to see who had called to her and curved a smile. When he was close enough for her to address without shouting, she said, “Good evening, Doctor.”

 

“Hello,” he said, moving to stand at her side. “I don't believe I've ever seen you here before. Come here often?”

 

“From time to time,” she said casually. “I don't often enjoy crowds. Now and then, it's fun. Do you?”

 

“Some,” he said. “Sometimes Garak gets in a gregarious mood, or I meet friends here after work.”

 

“I just saw him,” she said, gesturing vaguely back toward the door. “Then that dreadful woman came over. Quite rude. I got the impression that she knows him, although he didn't seem to recognize her.”

 

That intrigued him, but it wasn't enough to put him off of what he intended to say. “Yes,” he said, “I saw you with him.”

 

“You should have come over,” she said, glancing away from him as someone yelled dabo.

 

“You didn't look as though you'd welcome the interruption,” he said, not liking the peevish tone in his own voice and not quite able to control it.

 

She blinked at him, taken aback. “Why ever not?” she asked.

 

“You tell me,” he said, meeting her gaze with a level look.

 

She laughed. “I'm sure I don't know.”

 

As she continued to blink at him, he started to wonder if he had been imagining things. After all, he saw them from a distance, and he hadn't heard anything of what was said. Garak could be very amusing and entertaining. “I'm sorry,” he said, lifting a hand to rub at the back of his neck. “I suppose I'm just not used to seeing Bajorans willingly associating with him.”

 

“I'm sure you're not,” she agreed. “In fact, I'm sure that you're very used to having most of his company to yourself.”

 

It was his turn to blink in surprise. What was she getting at? “Actually, he likes to spend a good deal of time alone. He likes his privacy.”

 

“Mm,” she said, no longer looking at him, instead watching the dabo game in progress.

 

“If you have something to say, by all means say it,” he said, irritated all over again. “This is a purely social setting. I assure you I can keep it separate from work.”

 

“I wasn't worried about that,” she assured him.

 

“Then what?”

 

“How much of his reticence do you believe is a product of a private, introverted nature, and how much of it is a product of his surroundings? If you lived somewhere that you knew you would be reviled and whispered about at every turn, how introverted might you become?” she asked, still watching the dabo wheel.

 

“I make certain he gets included when he wants to be,” he said a bit defensively.

 

She made a scoffing sound. “As an overzealous parent might a socially awkward child?” When she looked at him again, it was with the same, intense focus he had come to expect from his lover when making an important point. “Don't you think he knows how much of his socializing is at your behest and by your graces? Come, Doctor. He's an intelligent man. Give him some credit.”

 

Dismayed, he asked, “Has he said something to you about all of this?”

 

“Of course not,” she said. “I, however, am intelligent, too.”

 

He didn't know what to say to that or what point she was trying to make. As he looked into the wide-set green eyes, he realized he didn't know this woman at all except on the most superficial of levels. “If you want to associate with Garak outside of work,” he found himself saying, “I have no intention of standing in the way, if that's what you're getting at. I want him to have friends of his own.”

 

“Yes, I'm sure you do,” she said, her lips curving into a smile that wasn't entirely pleasant. “It makes it easier to associate with your own friends without having to feel guilty about him off in his room alone waiting for you.”

 

He opened his mouth and shut it again, biting back the first thing that came to mind. He didn't want to get in an argument in the middle of Quark's with enough people around who knew him to spread gossip about it later. “I don't care for that insinuation, Nurse,” he said coolly.

 

“Please,” she said, “just Decla. We're not working right now, are we, Bashir? What insinuation? I believe that I spoke quite clearly.”

 

“You're making it sound like...like I'm treating him like some sort of kept man,” he said, “when nothing could be further from the truth.”

 

She tilted her head. “I said no such thing, not even close. Are you sure it's not your own conscience coloring how you're viewing this conversation? You're the one who came over here, puffed like a hara cat, implying that I would be possessive of the man's company for reasons I can hardly fathom. I had spoken to him for less than five minutes. What could either of us have possibly said or done to account for your reaction?”

 

To his chagrin, he felt his face coloring. How had she so thoroughly managed to turn this around on him? “You're mistaken,” he said.

 

“Am I?” She let the question hang between them, giving no quarter.

 

He let out a small huff of air. Garak was right. He was a terrible liar. “All right,” he conceded. “I...overreacted to seeing the two of you together. It was difficult for me to turn over his therapy to someone else. I suppose in some ways I envy what you're able to do for him, when I'd like to be the one doing it.”

 

“You love him very much,” she said.

 

He nodded. It still felt strange saying it aloud to others, particularly people he barely knew. “Probably more than I should,” he confessed.

 

“What an odd thing to say,” she said, tilting her head curiously.

 

The blush that had started to fade returned. “I suppose. It's just that he...well, it's complicated, and I'm sure it's nothing you want to hear.”

 

“If you want to tell me, I want to hear it,” she said, her tone and look growing more gentle.

 

Maybe he had misjudged her. Her concern had a matronly air to it, and he could detect no hint of condescension. “He's always telling me that he doesn't feel the same way, that he can't. I believe him, but it doesn't change how I feel.”

 

“I see,” she said, touching his arm lightly. “That must be difficult to hear.”

 

He nodded again, surprised to find her so understanding. He felt silly for having antagonized her in such a way over nothing more than a laugh. “I didn't mean to dump my issues in your lap. You must think I'm horrid.”

 

“No,” she said. “You're just young, and you're involved with a man almost twice your age. That has to be confusing and intimidating, trying to measure up to that level of experience. When you add the extra complication of an interspecies relationship, well, I'm amazed that you even decided to give it a go in the first place. That's very brave of you and admirable given what the association could do to your career. Not many would take such risks.”

 

“Yes,” he said, suddenly uncomfortable having some of his deepest insecurities about the relationship laid bare so quickly and easily by this woman who barely knew him. Yet again, he wondered if Garak had said more to her than she was telling him, or if he truly was that easy to read. No wonder Garak might have been looking for outside company. No wonder Nurse Decla seemed like an attractive choice. Could that be why he visited her earlier and why he was so reluctant to discuss it with Julian when he asked? Did he not want him feeling bad about his isolation? Or did he just want something to himself for a change? “I meant what I said,” he managed. “I won't mind if you associate with him outside of work. In fact, I'm sure he'd enjoy it.”

 

“Really?” she asked. “Why do you say that?”

 

“You're a facile conversationalist. He loves a good conversation.” He hazarded a glance over to the last place he had seen Garak and the Cardassian scientist, only to find both of them gone. “If you'll excuse me, I believe I've had my fill of Quark's for the night. I'm going back to my quarters.”

 

“All right,” she said, turning her attention back to the dabo table. “I'll see you at work, then.”

 

“Yes,” he said, “you will.” As he all but fled the bar, he inwardly cursed himself. That couldn't have gone any worse had he grabbed her by the arm and slapped her. The worst part of it was that she made some very salient points. He had a good deal to think about.

 

Garak

Quark's Bar

 

Irritated with how abruptly the Cardassian scientist dismissed Nurse Decla, Garak nonetheless followed the woman to a table and took a seat with her. He was too curious about what she wanted to dismiss her, although he wasn't prepared to discount the option outright should she remain churlish. She claimed the seat with the best view of the door, forcing him to take a less advantageous option. Frowning, he said, “I trust you have a good reason for interrupting my evening?”

 

“Getting familiar with the local fauna?” the woman asked, smirking.

 

“Such an unenlightened attitude,” he chided her, waving away the Ferengi waiter who came by to take their order, “given the new treaty.”

 

Her eyes glittered with contempt. “That's right,” she said. “You had something of a hand in that, from what I hear. Oh, not with the negotiation itself, of course, but quite the public display afterward.”

 

“I didn't catch your name,” Garak said.

 

“I didn't offer it,” she responded, flicking a small piece of lint from her sleeve. “You may call me Dejar. You're Garak.”

 

“I see my prowess with a needle and thread precede me,” he said dryly.

 

“Don't flatter yourself. Your disgrace has become a thing of legend among Probes all over Cardassia, one of the very few living examples of what happens to those who cross Enabran Tain and the powers that be. Better off dead, many say. I have to agree with them if you're going native to the point of flirting with them in a dive like this and attending quaint religious ceremonies that are bad for your health.”

 

“My health is excellent, as you can see,” he said, unruffled.

 

“You're amazingly composed. You must know by now what I am,” she said casually.

 

“Indeed,” he agreed. “If you intended me harm, you'd have already attempted it, not announced your presence to me like an attendee of the latest formal ball. How is Tain by the way?”

 

“I wouldn't know,” she snorted. “He's in retirement, as I'm sure you're aware. No one hears much of him these days. You, on the other hand, caused a stir.”

 

“And you're here to correct my oversight?” he asked.

 

She pursed her lips slightly. “Don't get in my way. I haven't been given specific instructions regarding you one way or the other, which to my mind gives me some leeway.”

 

“Creativity can be a dangerous skill,” he said lightly. “You do realize that had you said nothing to me, it's likely I'd have had no idea of your association and no reason to suspect you of anything?”

 

“You may be in disgrace. That doesn't change who, or what, you are,” she said. “I believe in being thorough. On one hand, consider this a professional courtesy, and on the other morbid curiosity. I wanted to see what a de-fanged hound looks like up close.” She stood then, glancing at him down her nose. “Frankly, I'm not impressed.”

 

He gave her a mocking smile and an incline of his head, blue eyes hard. So, the young pup wished to play, did she? He stood from his seat and left the bar at a leisurely stroll after he was sure she was gone. No one had contacted him, directly or indirectly, after the funeral. He believed that had his actions proved antithetical to the will of the Cardassian Union, something worse than his inept abduction would have occurred. It was no secret to him that in many ways, the various heads that composed the state were rarely in full agreement. The trick was in backing the one with the most influence at any given time. So, he was no longer considered an active agent? Then what he intended to do wasn't prohibited. Cardassian citizens were encouraged to support the wise decisions of the state.

 

With his lips curled in an unconscious expression of mild contempt, he let himself into his shop and retreated to the back for a little research. It was ridiculously easy to pull up files on both Ulani Belor and Gilora Rejal. Now, which would be the better to approach? He scanned their records, weighing one against the other, and eventually came to a decision. He sent a small, simple message via the internal comm and retired to his quarters for the night. It was too late of an hour for anything else that evening.

 

The next morning, at 0700 hours, his door chimed. “Enter,” he said pleasantly. Fully dressed, he sat relaxed at his table with a mug of rokassa juice and a PADD before him.

 

A tall, rather attractive Cardassian woman stepped into his room, eying him with caution and curiosity in equal measure. “I received your message, obviously,” she said. “What was so urgent that we had to meet privately in your quarters? Garak, is it?”

 

“Yes, Garak,” he said pleasantly. “May I get you anything? Have you eaten?”

 

“I'm fine,” she said. “I should be getting to work soon. I hope you'll make this brief.”

 

“Your record is exemplary,” he said, “top third of your class at the Institute, several commendations for your papers on communication relays, the effects of subspace anomalies on wave variances, and never even a whiff of scandal, and yet you were very outspoken in your early years in support of historical research regarding Hebitian ruins and beliefs, as well as evidence of cross species contact in the early days of Cardassia Prime. You considered being a historian, did you not?”

 

She folded her arms defensively. “Who are you?” she asked. “I thought it was bad enough that the military was sending us a supervisor to keep us on a short leash. This is offensive.”

 

“The military?” he asked pointedly.

 

“The Obsidian Order,” she said. “Not that I need to tell you that. You reek of their methodologies. So what is it your superiors want of me?”

 

He shook his head slightly as though that were of no consequence. “It's remarkable, isn't it, Bajorans and Cardassians cooperating on an important project? It's almost as though the voice of history is whispering to us from eons ago.” She remained silent, no longer looking quite so certain of him. “How often is it that history is given a voice, I wonder? How many of our people have the ability to listen?”

 

“Our government is listening,” she said softly but fervently. “Regardless of what others say or think of us, I don't believe that this treaty was entered into lightly.”

 

“Nor do I,” he said, holding her gaze with his.

 

“You're...warning me of something,” she said very slowly, as though she hardly dared to believe it.

 

“I knew your record spoke of itself,” he said, smiling.

 

“I could land myself in more than a little trouble if I interfere with the Order,” she said.

 

“There is a treaty,” he reminded her. “Regardless of who wants what, at least for the time being, overt actions will be in support of that. You have a promising, public career. I would advise that you continue to be as extroverted and outspoken as you are, in the name of good science, of course.”

 

“Who are you really, Garak?” she asked, unfolding her arms and letting them drop back to her sides.

 

“I'm just a plain, simple tailor,” he replied with a bright smile. “And I rather like this new spirit of cooperation between the two governments. Don't you?”

 

Julian

Garak's Quarters

 

“Can you believe it?” the doctor asked Garak excitedly, pacing before the seated man on the sofa. “Who would have thought that a Cardassian civilian would have the bravery to speak up and expose an Obsidian Order agent's scheme to sabotage the project? Miles was very impressed, and so am I. It's looking as though this treaty truly does have the support of the Cardassian people.”

 

Garak smiled mildly. “So it seems,” he said. “Who would have thought that a scientist would be overtly political?”

 

Quirking his lips, Julian knelt in front of Garak and took his hands in his, lifting them to kiss the knuckles. “You said everything is political when it comes to your people, my love.”

 

“Did I?” Garak tilted his head. “Hmm. You're quite sure I was sober when I said this?”

 

“Garak! You haven't had a drop of kanar in weeks. Yes, I'm quite sure, and you weren't out of your head on pain medication, either.” He rubbed his thumbs over the backs of the man's hands. “Speaking of that, I...wanted to ask you something.”

 

“I thought we settled that matter, dear,” he said, reversing the hold and brushing one of Julian's knuckles with his lips. “Of course, if you're asking for a repeat demonstration, I'm sure I can accommodate.”

 

The doctor grinned and squeezed his hands. “Later. That's not what I was talking about.” His grin faded. “I had an interesting conversation with Nurse Decla the other night at Quark's.”

 

“Did you?” the tailor asked, nothing more than curiosity to be seen in his gaze. “About my physical therapy? My medication? I haven't been having any problems with it. As you can see, I've made quite a bit of progress over the past month.”

 

“Yes,” he said, “and I'm proud of you for it. I also appreciate what she has done for you. Turning over your treatment to her was the right decision. She has been much harder on you than I could ever bring myself to be.” He took a deep breath. “She's...very attractive, isn't she?”

 

“She is,” Garak agreed.

 

He almost balked at hearing that, but he pressed on, determined not to be selfish. “She's also very interesting. She has a quick wit. She seems to like you.”

 

“Yes,” the tailor agreed again.

 

“Do you like her?” he asked, dropping his gaze but forcing himself to lift it again almost immediately.

 

“I do,” he replied without elaborating.

 

Damn it, Julian thought in exasperation. He should have known that the tailor wouldn't make such a discussion easy on him. “It occurred to me that you don't get out much, at least not unless I invite you to various gatherings and functions to which I've been invited.”

 

“True,” Garak said, nodding.

 

“Is...is that by choice?” he asked.

 

“I'm not entirely sure what you mean,” the man said. “It's my choice whether I attend these functions with you or not. We've been together long enough by now that you should know I rarely allow you to pressure me into anything I'd find onerous.”

 

“No, that's not what I mean. I mean...would you be more social, given the chance?”

 

Garak eyed him oddly. “You said you had a conversation with Nurse Decla?” he prompted.

 

“Yes. She...she seems to think you'd be more social if you had the opportunity. Is that true?”

 

“I suppose it is,” he said casually. “I haven't given it much thought.”

 

“Do you want to be more social with her?” He winced at the thin note in his voice at the question.

 

“Are you sure you want to talk about this?” Garak asked.

 

“I'm sure we need to. I've assumed, rather arrogantly, that I would have you all to myself, and I'm not entirely proud to say that I've behaved with something of a sense of entitlement when it comes to your company. You've been very patient and accommodating with me when it comes to spending time with Miles or Dax, and...and you've never said anything to me about what happened with Major Kira.”

 

“You were under the influence of outside telepathic influence,” the Cardassian said reasonably. “It would be very unreasonable of me to take you to task for that. Besides, I had broken things off with you at that point. If you wanted to sleep your way through Quark's entire stable of dabo girls and every co-worker you have, I wouldn't have had the right to say a thing about it.”

 

He frowned, listening carefully to how that was phrased. “What about now?” he asked.

 

“Are you trying to tell me you're involved with Major Kira?” Garak asked, irritation flashing in his eyes.

 

“No! Of course not. I wouldn't sneak behind your back like that,” he said. “I suppose, in my own clumsy way, I'm trying to ask you what rights you do think we have with one another. Are we...exclusive?”

 

“I suppose I should be the one asking you that,” Garak said. “This is about Nurse Decla, is it not?”

 

Julian nodded, feeling more miserable by the minute. “You've said to me so many times that you don't feel the way I do. All along, I've said I accept that, and I do,” he added quickly. “It just never occurred to me that included in that...disparity of feeling...there might also come a time when the question of...sharing you might arise. It would hardly be fair of me to expect you to behave as though we're bonded to one another in some way or to ask you for fidelity that you don't feel. As much as I enjoy all of the time we spend together, I'm not so naïve as to believe that I'm the only company you need.”

 

“My dear boy,” Garak murmured, cupping his cheek gently with a hand. “Every time I think I've charted the course of where your emotions lead, you surprise me.”

 

He leaned into that touch, part of him ashamed that he was so eager to accept the barest crumbs of affection the older man deigned to offer. How could he deny that at least for him, approval was a powerful aphrodisiac? “Do you want her?” he asked, only by willpower alone preventing his voice from trembling in the question.

 

“I can't deny that I've considered it,” Garak said, stroking a thumb lightly over his cheek. “I haven't acted on it.”

 

Although he had no reason to believe the latter to be true, he decided to accept it, simply because it was easier on him. “I...don't want to stand in the way of that,” he said softly, closing his eyes. He didn't know if he could bear seeing relief or eagerness in Garak's in that moment. “All I ask is that if you do decide to act on that attraction, you don't let me know about it, but...if you develop feelings for her...well, if it's something you want more than this, you'll tell me. I think I can handle the thought that you might be indulging curiosity and appetite as long as it's not thrown in my face, but I don't want to be the third side of a true triangle. I just...I don't think I could take it.”

 

Garak continued that gentle stroking of his cheek. “What did she say to you, my dear?” he asked very softly. “Please, be as exact as you can.”

 

“O...OK,” he said, a bit taken aback. Despite his perfect recall, he fuzzed a few of the details, much the way that any average human might. He didn't understand why it seemed so important to the tailor, but he saw no reason not to answer. As he continued, he saw the man's expression harden, a decidedly unpleasant gleam coming into the brilliant blue eyes. “I...I'm sorry,” he said, faltering. “I know I had no right to discuss you like that. I shouldn't have even approached her.”

 

The man's brow ridges dipped downward and he leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to Julian's forehead. “You have nothing to apologize for, understand?”

 

“Not entirely,” he admitted.

 

“She was right about one thing,” he said with a sigh. “You are young. There's no flaw in that and no shame. I know that I play fast and loose with what you like to call the truth,” he said, “but I want you to believe me when I tell you that you have nothing to worry about in regard to this woman. I won't be visiting her bed or taking advantage of social opportunities. In fact, I believe that I'm far enough along in my physical therapy that I would like for you to resume it, if,” he paused, regarding him intently, “you promise to push me.”

 

Relief flooded him so strongly, he felt momentarily weak. He leaned forward, hugging both of Garak's calves and resting his cheek against a thigh. “I'm afraid I really don't understand now,” he said.

 

“You understand everything that's important,” Garak replied, caressing his hair lightly. “Are you still interested in testing to see if I've had a medication relapse?”

 

“Such things are important,” he said, an impish smile teasing his lips upward. “I'd be remiss as your doctor not to make certain.”

 

Garak

Habitat Level H-2

Chamber 703

 

Garak watched the gracefully clad Bajoran nurse retreat from admitting him to her quarters with a sway to her hips and a subdued smile at him over her shoulder. “I wasn't expecting to see you tonight,” she said. “After Doctor Bashir told me he'd be taking your case back, I didn't know what to think. Were you worried that having me as your physical therapist would make things awkward? It wouldn't have for me, but I know how you Cardassian males are.”

 

“Your knowledge of males in general seems extensive,” Garak replied.

 

She gave a soft laugh and turned back to face him before taking a seat on her sofa. “Are you trying to insult me?” she asked.

 

“No, merely making an observation. You played our doctor quite well the other night at Quark's from what I hear.”

 

She sat up a bit straighter and pushed a lock of hair over her shoulder. “I'm not sure what you mean by played. I merely told him things I felt he needed to hear. Was I mistaken about you in anything that I said?”

 

“No,” he said, moving to stand behind the chair opposite her. “You painted quite the vivid and accurate picture of my condition on this station. You also managed to pin a good number of the doctor's insecurities in the process. I'd congratulate you, except that the young are such easy targets. Rather like plucking eels from a barrel.”

 

“You can't honestly tell me that he meets your needs,” she scoffed. “You're right. It was all too easy to line him up and knock him down. If you ask me, he deserved it, the way he takes you for granted. Before his little infatuation, I hear he was quite the skirt chaser. Do you really think those days are over?”

 

Garak smiled coldly. “You're not as good as you think you are. My insecurities aren't quite that easy to find. I didn't come here to quibble with you about what the dear doctor does or doesn't provide for me. I came here to warn you.”

 

“Warn me?” her eyes narrowed. “You had better watch yourself. You may have earned a few points with the Provisional Government with your grand gesture at the funeral, but it won't mean a thing if you go around threatening Bajoran citizens on this station, particularly ones as well connected as I am.”

 

“Who said anything about threats?” he asked innocently. “No, my dear, I'm not here to threaten you. There's a difference. Pay attention. I may not be head over heels in love as only the young can truly be, but I feel a good deal of affection for Doctor Bashir, and I tend to take it very personally when he gets his feelings hurt. You were with a Gul. You know just how personally we Cardassians can take things,” he said, pausing to let that sink in. “You also know that we almost never threaten.” He gave the last word special emphasis.

 

She scowled. “I think it's time you left now,” she said acidly, all traces of seduction gone from her husky voice.

 

“I couldn't agree more,” he said, moving to comply. “I'm so glad to have had this little heart to heart.” He paused at the door. “It's just a shame that you couldn't keep things strictly between you and me. It could have been...interesting.” He left her to ponder that, feeling only slight regret that things didn't work out differently. Truth told, she really was a little too aggressive for his taste and more like Palandine than he had originally realized. Going backward had never really been his style.

 

The End