Dangerous Game--Part II, Conclusion

[dark_sinestra]

Garak

Quark's Bar

 

Garak waited for Quark to leave the small back room to make preparations for his end of the bargain. He turned his attention to Rom. “You don't have to do this,” he said. “I hold Quark largely responsible for what happened, but that doesn't extend to you. If we get caught, there could be some serious repercussions for all of us.”

 

“If I don't do this, you will get caught,” Rom asserted. “You're going to need me, Garak. The security protocols for the infirmary sensors are a lot more convoluted than for most of the station.”

 

“I do know my way around a system,” Garak snapped.

 

“I do, too,” the Ferengi said, “and the person I love most in the world isn't lying in a hospital bed right now. How's your head?”

 

He hissed softly, wondering what had ever possessed him to tell the waiter about his migraines. “Hurting,” he conceded reluctantly.

 

Rom nodded. “I could tell. You get all pinchy around the eyes. You really want the added stress of deactivating all those sensors, rerouting the computer so that it's not aware they've been deactivated, and creating a false loop on top of having to see the doctor like that?”

 

“No,” he said. It made his head throb worse even hearing it spoken that way. “I just...Rom, you have a son to think about.”

 

Rom's mouth tightened into a stubborn expression that Garak had come to understand meant he'd make no headway with him. He had made up his mind. “I do,” he agreed. “I'd much rather my son see me in jail for helping a friend get around something that's not right than for one of Quark's schemes.” He straightened himself to his full height. “I'd be proud to go to jail for this,” he declared.

 

These friends of his were going to break his heart, he thought in wonder. What had he ever done to earn such loyalty other than be kind to this man? When he thought about the kind of life Rom had led, it made sense, but it also made him angry that someone so good would risk so much for so little. For him. Like Julian? He thought, only to immediately wince away from that sore spot. Now wasn't the time to think of such things. “Let's not get ahead of ourselves,” he said breezily. “If we do this right, I'm afraid you'll just have to find something else to be proud of.”

 

Rom smiled and nodded. “I have to get some things together,” he said. “You can go sit at the bar, if you like. We won't be ready for this for at least another hour or so.”

 

“I think I've made enough of a scene at the bar for one night,” Garak said. “I need to get something from my quarters. I'll be back by 2100 hours.”

 

“Don't take any of those pills,” the Ferengi warned him.

 

“Believe me,” Garak said firmly, “I'm not.”

 

Quark

The Promenade

Heading, Infirmary

 

Quark fought himself not to scratch at the grainy dark paste he had smeared on his cheeks and forehead. As it dried, it itched fiercely. He had made a point of complaining bitterly several times during the night about being forced to such actions by the furious Cardassian, but deep in his heart, he was secretly thrilled with the scheme. Admittedly, there was no profit to it directly, unless he counted being allowed to continue breathing no matter what happened to the doctor. No, this was the next best thing, a desperate action taken by a desperate man all in the name of love. No matter how much Garak had protested over the course of the past year or so that his feelings ran shallow where his lover's ran deep, Quark had never been fooled. Now, there was no way the tailor could ever deny it to him again and expect to retain a smidgen of credibility. This was true romance at its best, and he had an important part to play.

 

He saw the two Bajoran nurses Rom had described to him at the entrance and hastened his steps. He had almost managed to barrel right between both of them when one seized him by the crook of one elbow and the other his other. “What do you think you're doing?” the dark haired one asked, eyes narrowed.

 

“I'm going to see Doctor Bashir,” he said, as though it were the most natural thing in the world for him to want to do.

 

“Visiting hours are over,” the other said. “You'll have to come back tomorrow.”

 

Quark shook his head. “What if tomorrow is too late?” he asked. “What if the poor doctor is dead by then?”

 

“Then you'll get to visit the body,” the first said matter-of-factly.

 

“You can't do this to me!” the bar owner protested. “I have rights! You Bajorans, always crying and moaning about how the Starfleeters don't respect your traditions and beliefs. What about my traditions and beliefs? What about my...well, the Universal Translator won't manage this one, so let's just say for the sake of argument, pagh?”

 

“What about it?” the second asked, releasing Quark's elbow and folding his arms skeptically.

 

“You'd doom me to wander the world an empty shade after death?” the Ferengi asked, looking appalled. “Don't you see? It's my fault this happened. If I hadn't been so naïve about what that horrible Lethean wanted with my friend, I never would have introduced them over lunch. I never would have exposed the good doctor to his evil designs.”

 

“I appreciate that you feel bad about this,” the first said, trying to be reasonable, “but there's nothing we can do about that. It's up to Nurse Decla, and she says nobody gets in tonight.”

 

“Well, where is she?” he asked, craning his neck trying to see around them. “Let me speak to her directly. I'm sure she'll understand!”

 

The two glanced at each other. “She's on a cot in the doctor's room,” the first said. “She went to sleep about an hour ago and said she wasn't to be disturbed.”

 

Quark eyed each in turn regretfully. “I really didn't want to have to do this in public. It's very...unusual... allowing others to see the atonement ceremony, but I'm not going to be doomed to haunt this station for eternity just because some nurse wants her beauty rest.” He raised his voice and began to sing in the screechiest, most piercing tones he could manage. He hurt his own ears in the process, but it had its desired effect. Within moments, a very angry, very scary looking Nurse Decla was bearing down on him with the full force of her gaze and her wrath.

 

Garak

Engineering Access Tunnel

Infirmary

 

Rom winced and immediately adjusted the volume of the feed they got from Quark. Even with his weak hearing, Garak found the sounds coming through the tiny device painful. They had been in the tube long enough for his old phobia to start playing havoc with his nerves. Rom had worked like a fiend to make the proper adjustment to the sensor feeds, but neither he nor Garak could make the move into the actual infirmary as long as they could see Decla lying on her side on the cot she had brought into the room. “Now or never,” Rom said, glancing quickly at him. “Remember, you don't have long.”

 

“I know,” Garak said. He didn't wait to be told twice, kicking out the access ventilation grill and hoping that it wasn't heard over Quark's caterwauling. As he scrambled out of the tube, he felt a wave of intense relief. He could breathe again without the terrible sensation of walls closing in around him. He straightened and wasted no time in approaching the bed where Julian lay.

 

He looks so small, he thought. The doctor was a slender man, but somehow, when he was awake and aware, he had so much energy that it wasn't something Garak ever noticed all that much. His life force held any sign of frailty at bay. Even sleeping, he was simply peaceful, not diminished. He searched the smooth, lax features for any sign of the trouble he knew would be playing out in the man's mind thanks to the Lethean's malice. No, his dear doctor was being held down so deeply in his own psyche that there was nothing to be seen.

 

Carefully, he reached his hand to smooth back the wiry waves of hair above his forehead. Julian felt cool to the touch, as though the energy that fueled him was already in retreat. Regret. He held so much of it that hours of time to express it might not be enough, for all that he had withheld, all that he had obfuscated, all of the pain and uncertainty he had given to this young man for the simple act of loving him. The part that hurt the worst was that he knew that even now, knowing what it might come to, he would not have done anything differently. It just wasn't his way.

 

Reaching into his trousers pocket, he withdrew something cold and heavy. It was far too large to stay on any of the doctor's slim fingers. Even over his thumb, it twisted too easily. It could fall off, roll under the bed or one of the counters, and no one would know it was there until it was too late. “Garak,” Rom hissed from the tube, “you need to hurry. Quark can't keep her much longer.”

 

He heard him, but there was something he still had to do. Quickly scanning the transparent cabinet doors, his eyes lit upon a roll of medical tape. He fetched it and tore off a large piece using his teeth, then wrapped the length around the lower curve of the sigil ring again and again until it formed a tight, white cocoon. This time, when he slipped the ring over Julian's thumb, it stayed put snugly.

 

He traced a fingertip over the black, platinum inlaid cabochon, the design the ancient sigil of the house of Tain, and then bent to place a soft, chaste kiss on Julian's lips. I love you, he thought. He felt ashamed that he couldn't even allow himself to think such a thing unless the one for whom he felt so much was beyond reason or reach to know it. Are you afraid you'd say it if you could, or that you wouldn't? He didn't have an answer for that, but now at least, if Julian did manage to awaken, he would know that his lover had been there for him, that he hadn't allowed anything to keep him away, even if he couldn't stay. In one last move before leaving, he turned the ring inward. Nothing but the small lump of medical tape showed against the tawny skin. It wasn't perfect, but it would have to do.

 

Sheer willpower drove him back into the hateful tube, and he and Rom pulled the grate back into place with mere seconds to spare. They crab crawled backward until they were well out of danger of being overheard before Rom said, “You didn't say anything to him.”

 

Garak sighed softly and shook his head. “He wouldn't have heard me anyway. Let's get out of here, and Rom?” He squeezed his friend's upper arm. “Thank you.”

 

He left Quark's Bar by one of the side doors, not wanting to draw attention to himself or run into anyone he knew. All he wanted to do was to return to his quarters where maybe he'd manage some emotional release, or maybe he wouldn't. At least he'd be alone and free to express himself without need of reserve. Maybe he'd even manage a poem. He hadn't written in years.

 

When he let himself in, he saw that he had a pre-recorded message waiting for him on the comm. Rubbing hard at his temples, he closed the distance and triggered it, surprised to see Kira's face. Her expression was odd, but he was too wrung out to be able to give it the proper attention. Let her keep her secrets, at least for that night. “Garak, I thought you'd like to know that I've managed to make some headway on your problem with Decla. We should be able to get you visitation by tomorrow afternoon if everything goes as planned. I'm sorry I couldn't make it sooner. This is the best I could do.” She hesitated, then added quickly, “Hang in there,” and abruptly ended the recording.

 

It was more than he expected. He didn't have the heart to tell her or anyone else that at this point, the issue was moot. If he never saw Julian again before he died, he had done all that he could. Being there, not being there, it didn't matter. Julian was beyond his reach. Seeing him so flat and small in that bed drove that point home in a way prior intellectual knowledge of Letheans never could. There was only one thing left to him now. It would have to wait until he knew for a fact the doctor was gone. He wouldn't risk indirectly being the hand that sent him to his grave. There was still a chance, a very small chance, that his lover would fight his way out of this situation. If he did, the Lethean would meet his fate some time down the line, after he had a chance to grow complacent. If he didn't, then Garak would soon be heading to that prison colony Quark mentioned, and it wouldn't matter to him. Tain wouldn't let him survive a week off the station, but would he at least understand? He tried to imagine his father hearing the news, and imagination failed him. After over fifty years, the elder Cardassian was still a mystery to him in most ways.

 

He stayed wakeful through the night, staring out his star port and seeing little beyond the shades that occupied his mind, past and present intertwined. Julian was there; he wasn't. There was no part of his quarters that didn't contain memory, no part of his body that couldn't vividly conjure a touch or caress. He felt haunted by the living, or more accurately by a man in limbo. He ached to touch him, hold him. For once, he would be the one to warm a cold body and a colder bed. For once, he wouldn't hold back. It was easy to think such things when he knew they were impossible.

 

At some point the next morning, a doze caught him unaware on his couch. He awoke a few hours later to the sound of his door chime, and his chest constricted with worry. Was this it? Were they coming to tell him that Julian was gone? He answered the door to Odo. The changeling had the decency to take him out of his suspense immediately. “I'm here to escort you to your visitation. They won't allow you there alone. I'm sorry.”

 

So it was time for the farce, the Bajoran government's gesture of throwing him a bone and making a token move to show the watching Starfleeters that they were willing to pay more than lip service to the treaty. “One moment, Constable. I'm rumpled and I wasn't expecting you so soon. Do you mind?” he asked.

 

The man shook his head, folding his arms and stepping to the side in the corridor. Since he made no move to come into Garak's quarters, Garak made no move to invite him. Instead, he hurried to the back, changed into one of his most flattering tunics, and combed his hair to perfection. He emerged into the corridor and nodded formally. “I'm ready now.”

 

“You wouldn't happen to know about a disturbance at the infirmary last night, would you?” Odo asked, looking straight ahead while they walked together.

 

“I'm afraid not,” he replied. “What sort of disturbance?”

 

“I thought for certain you would know, since it happened after you frightened half of Quark's customers out of their wits. Does that ring any bells?” He glanced sideways at Garak.

 

“Scared them?” the Cardassian blinked innocently.

 

“They seemed convinced you were going to kill Quark. Of course, when I asked him about it, he denied it. However, something prompted him to become remorseful last night, to the point that he insisted on serenading Doctor Bashir from the doorway of the infirmary, since they wouldn't allow him inside. He claimed it was a Ferengi ritual of atonement and death. Ever heard of such a thing?”

 

“I can't say that I have,” he said lightly. “It sounds very strange. I didn't think they were that sort.”

 

“They're not,” Odo grated, seemingly content to drop the subject as they neared the turbo lift. They rode in silence the rest of the way. Garak strolled down the Promenade with Odo at his side as though it were any normal day. When he entered the infirmary, he allowed the security chief to take the lead and ignored the glares of the few staff members in his view. Decla was nowhere to be seen. He thought that she might be waiting in Julian's room and was relieved to find that she was not. His anger had yet to grow cold. While hot, he was capable of anything at all.

 

“I'll do the best that I can to give you your privacy,” Odo said, stepping to the far side of the room and turning his back.

 

“Thank you,” he said. He pulled up a chair and sat by the bedside, taking one of the limp, cool hands between his own and beginning to talk of inanities and inconsequentials. Just because Decla wasn't there to be seen, it didn't mean that she wasn't watching somehow. He determined to give her nothing to feed from, neither word nor gesture that he was concerned or hurt by her keeping them apart. He acted as though he felt certain that Julian would awaken at any time, certainly in time for his birthday party the next day.

 

As he spoke, he privately poured over the man's gentle features, the dark curve of lashes against finely sculpted cheeks, the high arch of the bridge of his nose, the well shaped lips that could purse in mischief and humor in the blink of an eye. Yes, he was beautiful, inside and out, and there was no longer a part of his body that the tailor didn't know intimately. He wished that he had more time to explore the mind. When his time was up, he tucked the ring clad hand he had held beneath the blanket, glad that at least so far no one had discovered the jewelry or removed it.

 

When it was time for him to leave, Odo led him from the room. Dax and Commander Sisko waited in the front, each of them greeting him pleasantly. Commander Sisko assured him that they would be keeping a close eye on Julian's situation and that he would be informed by one of them if anything significantly changed. He thanked them and returned to his quarters. He had no intention of putting himself on display. It was a small station. Gossip traveled quickly. He knew it was likely that the situation was already a subject of wagging tongues. With nothing else to do but wait, he sat at his terminal and began to write. It had eased his ache years before, when he was forced to be apart from the woman he loved. Perhaps now it would do the same.

 

Julian

The Infirmary

 

When he opened his eyes, he could hardly believe it. He found himself staring up into the faces of Dax, Commander Sisko, and one of his Bajoran nurses. He could tell by how he felt that he wasn't aged as he had been in the...hallucination? Nightmare? Whatever it was that the Lethean had done to him, it hadn't affected his body. As he cupped his fingers beneath his blanket, he felt something rounded and hard against his thumb. No one seemed to know where it had come from or what significance it had. He wondered if it had something to do with Altovar. Dax removed it for him and sealed it in a clear bag to be turned over to Odo for evidence. He tolerated their fussing over him and scans and found himself wondering why Garak wasn't there. Of course, he had no idea how long he had been out of it. It wasn't until the Commander left him with Dax that he felt comfortable asking.

 

“Two days,” she said. “How do you feel?”

 

“Compared to how I felt in that nightmare, amazing,” he said. Glancing around the room, he added, “I'm surprised Garak isn't here.”

 

Dax's lips compressed, her eyes flashing with a level of anger he wasn't accustomed to seeing in the usually cool and collected woman. “He was here earlier,” she said, seeming to consider how much else to reveal.

 

“And?” he prompted.

 

“I don't want to upset you so soon after awakening. You seem fine, but we don't really know,” she said, sounding frustrated.

 

“Dax, believe me, it's upsetting me far more not knowing what's going on. Tell me. What did Garak do?”

 

She shook her head abruptly. “Not Garak,” she said. “Decla. Ever since you lost consciousness, she has insisted that almost no one be able to see you, especially Garak. She called him a security risk. Benjamin, Nerys, and Odo have been working almost nonstop to try to gain him access. All they managed was an hour for him a few hours ago. He says it's a personal grudge she has against him. Is that true?”

 

He nodded slowly. “I believe it is,” he said. “I don't know the full details of everything that transpired between them, but trust me when I say there's no love lost on either side.” He was furious, all the more so because he knew that without direct evidence, he couldn't fire her or demote her for her actions. According to the strictest interpretation of protocol, she had been well within her rights to do what she had done. Of course, she had to know that, too. “Help me stand, Dax. I want to contact him, let him know I'm all right and that I'll see him soon,” he said.

 

He did so, got himself checked out over Decla's objections, and walked the short distance to the security office to speak with Odo about his ordeal. He sat across from him and handed him the bag with the odd ring, telling him everything he could recall about his very strange experiences. When he finished his account, he asked, “Do you think he established the connection with me through that ring?”

 

Odo opened the bag and tipped it out into his palm, an odd expression flickering in his blue eyes. “No, Doctor,” he said. “I suggest you put it back on.” He offered it across the desk.

 

“I don't understand,” he said, accepting it and turning it to have a closer look.

 

“I've seen rings like that before,” the security chief said patiently, “during the occupation.”

 

“It's...Cardassian?” he asked, wanting to be sure. Odo nodded. Smiling to himself, he slipped it back into place, amused at the ring of medical tape. “I suppose Garak gave it to me a few hours ago.”

 

“Perhaps,” Odo said, his look pensive. He offered the doctor a PADD. “You might like to see what we know about these Letheans. You're very lucky to be alive.”

 

Julian read over the information silently. No one else might know it, but he knew why he survived the ordeal when so few others ever had. It made everything Altovar had said to him about fearing his own potential hit a little closer to home. At last he lifted his gaze from the PADD and handed it back. “Are we done here, then?” he asked. “Garak said he'd meet me at the Replimat. Considering everything Decla put him through, I don't want to keep him waiting.”

 

“We're done,” the changeling said, nodding. “You've been helpful in my investigation, Doctor.”

 

“Glad to be of help, and I appreciate everything you did to get Garak in to see me. Dax filled me in. It means a lot to me.”

 

“You're welcome,” Odo said with a slight incline of his head.

 

He couldn't help but to smile at the sight of the Cardassian at their usual table, looking handsome and comported. Garak stood when he approached and pressed his palm. As he looked into blue eyes, he saw that there was more emotion than this outward show indicated. It was all he could do not to lean in and kiss him right then and there. Instead, he took his arm lightly as the two stepped over to one of the replicators. “Are you certain you're fit to be checked out?” Garak asked.

 

“I am,” he said. “Don't you start that, too. Besides, I have far too much to tell you about what happened to want to wait another moment. It was utterly fascinating.”

 

The two of them sat with their food, and he described the whole course of events with the same level of detail that he used for Odo. He felt genuine embarrassment when Garak pointed out with his usual eye for the important facts that his mind had cast his lover in the role of the villain and then amazement when the man seemed to find it encouraging rather than insulting. As always there was so much more to the Cardassian than met the eye. They shared a smile and continued eating.

 

“By the way,” he said casually, “I noticed I was wearing a little something extra besides a hospital gown when I awoke. I actually thought it had something to do with Altovar until Odo set me straight.” He held his hand out over the table. “What can you tell me about this?”

 

“Most Cardassian iconography represents the predatory animals of our planet,” the tailor replied. “That particular species hasn't been seen on our world in over a thousand years. It was quite the fierce hunter in its day, so I hear, known for its strength and endurance.”

 

“I never took you for the superstitious sort,” he said, touched yet also relishing this rare opportunity to turn his teasing around on the man. “Adorning me with a talisman to help pull me out of the clutches of my enemy.”

 

“Doctor,” Garak said drolly, “you're reading quite a bit more into that than you ought. You humans are the ones with vivid imaginations and the tendency to anthropomorphize everything around you. I merely wanted you to know that I had been to see you. Of course,” he added a bit touchily, “had I known you wouldn't recognize an obviously Cardassian design when you saw it, I would have simply left a business card.”

 

Julian threw his head back and laughed. “I can't believe you,” he said. “You're the one who is so secretive about your people that I barely know a thing. I suspect even most of that is more or less creativity on your part. I appreciate the gesture, nonetheless. I suppose you'll be wanting it back now?”

 

He regarded him silently, his fleeting expression making Julian wish now more than ever that he could at least sometimes sneak a peek inside that inscrutable head. “No, my dear,” he said lightly. “You keep it. Consider it another early birthday present. If you like, we can even get it resized for you.”

 

“No,” he said, rubbing a finger over the tape. “It's entirely too endearing that you wrapped it like this just so that it would stay on. I wouldn't change a thing. Will you at least tell me the name of the animal it represents?”

 

“It's not important,” he said, his smile mysterious. “Why look back when so much of interest still lies ahead?”

 

In that he was correct. The birthday party the next day, no surprise thanks to Miles' inability to keep a secret, was Dax's grandest affair yet. The Mount Olympus holosuite program was lush and fanciful, and it seemed that everyone there, including Garak, was genuinely enjoying themselves. They feasted on ancient Earth delicacies, drank rather more wine than was prudent, and chased wood nymphs and dryads through the sparkling forest, laughter ringing from all around.

 

A few hours into it, something went wrong. The holosuite shut itself down, leaving all of them standing in a blank room with a plain grid on the walls. “Ugh,” Dax said, “I'll go tell Quark.” She trudged out with her toga balled in one hand to keep from tripping. Everyone else waited, looking around at one another and feeling a little silly without the scenery to support the costumes. When she returned, the news wasn't good. Apparently, a power coupling had blown and wouldn't be fixable in time for the party to continue.

 

Disappointed, Julian put the best face on it that he could, smiling and thanking everyone for coming and making the effort to make the party such a success. In twos and threes, they all filed away, leaving him and Garak to deal with the small mountain of real presents left behind. As they were gathering them up, Quark entered the holosuite. “Gentlemen,” the Ferengi said, “just allow me to say how sorry I am for this. You're welcome to have a free drink at the bar on me.”

 

“A free drink?” Garak snorted. “Your holosuite blows during someone's thirtieth birthday party, and that's the best you can do?”

 

“It's all right, Garak,” Julian said, not wanting to make a scene. “It's not his fault.”

 

“Thank you, Doctor,” Quark said. “That's very reasonable of you. In light of that, I have just one more thing to say.”

 

“What's that?” he asked, feeling suddenly suspicious.

 

The holosuite came to life around them once more, but it was no Earth scene. An arid landscape showed through elliptical windows, and at the center of the circular chamber was a platform of sorts of flat rocks surrounding a central heat source. He heard Garak hiss a sharp intake of breath at the same time that Quark said, “Surprise,” offered them both a knowing, toothy smile, and left them to their own devices.

 

“Garak?” he asked.

 

“It's a Cardassian style spa,” he said, too taken off guard to disguise his reaction.

 

Smiling, Julian stepped closer and took the stack of presents out of his lover's hands. “I'm sure you're going to show me how everything in here works,” he said.

 

Garak smiled a rare, uncomplicated smile and said, “Nothing would please me more.”

 

Odo

The Infirmary

 

Few things satisfied the changeling more than catching someone who deserved it flat footed. With Julian occupied with his birthday party, it was the perfect opportunity to have an overdue conversation with the Bajoran nurse who had caused all of them such grief. Garak might not have been his favorite person by any stretch of imagination, but the Cardassian tailor hadn't deserved that treatment. It would've been even worse for him had the doctor not pulled through. Nobody abused other people on the station on his watch, not if he had anything to say about it. He took the woman's following of the letter of the law rather than the spirit as a particularly personal insult.

 

When he stepped through the doors, one of the nurses on duty directed him toward the back, seeming to know who he was there to see, even if he didn't know why. Nodding, Odo walked down to one of the labs, finding the woman finishing up with a sample analysis. “Constable,” she said without turning her full attention from her work, “shouldn't you be at the party?”

 

“I've already paid my respects,” he said. “Computer, close and lock door to infirmary lab one.”

 

That got her attention. She pulled away from the screen and turned to face him. “Was that necessary?” she asked, arching a brow.

 

“If you'd like for your entire staff on duty to have the chance to overhear our conversation, I'd be more than happy to open the door again,” he said pleasantly.

 

“Is there a reason I wouldn't want them to hear it?” she asked, tilting her head.

 

“I'll let you tell me in a moment,” he replied. “Legate Pa'Ren,” he continued. “Sound familiar?”

 

She feigned giving it some thought, apparently unaware of how well he could read the most minute of facial twitches. “I'm afraid not,” she said regretfully. “Should it?”

 

“Perhaps not,” he said, his turn to feign emotion, understanding. “After all, it was over twenty years ago, and I believe that you knew him as Gul Pa'Ren, or maybe even just as Feylan.”

 

“Ah, yes,” she said breezily. “As you say, it was long ago. I'm very busy, Constable. If you have a point to this trot down memory lane, I'd appreciate if you'd make it.”

 

“Would you like for me to open the door first?” he asked, gesturing back to it.

 

Irritation flickered in her green eyes. “No,” she said tightly.

 

“Then I believe you already grasp my point, Nurse Decla,” he said. “It didn't take much for me to uncover that episode from your past. Imagine my surprise when I discovered the prisoner you supposedly accidentally dispatched alive and well on Cardassia Prime. He remembered you, too, quite fondly. I wonder if those who respect you in the Provisional Government would be equally kindly inclined to discover that you put your entire resistance cell at risk by giving in to sentiment?”

 

Her voice rose to a shrill pitch. “Blackmail? You? The vaunted, high and mighty, eminently fair security chief who is supposedly beyond reproach?”

 

“You mistake me, Madame,” he said gravely. “I would never stoop to such a level, no, but if I can find that information, there are others on this station who can as well. I can think of one in particular who is probably quite dangerous when given a reason to be. In fact, you gave him just such a reason. I can only protect you so far when you go around making unsavory enemies.”

 

“So this is concern for my safety,” she spat, folding her arms.

 

“People make mistakes,” he said. “I'm willing to consider the possibility that your recent actions can be taken in that light. Of course, if there's another incident with similar results, I may have to rethink my entire position. I don't want to see anyone on this station hurt, including Garak. Do you understand?”

 

“Perfectly,” she said, glaring venom.

 

“Good, then I can set all of this unpleasantness behind me and close my case. Thank you for your cooperation. Computer, unlock and open infirmary lab one door.” As the door hissed open, he strode out, not at all certain that the woman would be wise enough to heed his warning. He had seen too many looks like that to believe she'd let things go, and he had known enough Cardassians in his time to be sure that Garak would not. The one positive thing he could say about working on Deep Space Nine was that it was always interesting. Then again, perhaps boredom was underrated.

 

The End