Freefall--Part III, Conclusion
Jan. 7th, 2010 05:18 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dark_sinestraGarak
Quark's Bar
Garak felt as though he had no choice but to get back to business and some semblance of routine. He resisted all impulses to contact Julian or try to arrange a lunch date. He had told him that he'd be there as much or as little as he wanted him. Since he had heard nothing, he assumed that was little indeed. Are you really surprised? he asked himself often. You brutalized him. You got what you wanted. He'll never trust you again.
Since the night he broke, he hadn't had another nightmare. He divided his time among work, researching the missing ships, and trying to socialize a bit. He noticed, somewhat uncomfortably, that there seemed to be a bit of a divide over the breakup. Dax and O'Brien circled the wagons around Julian, while Odo and oddly Kira seemed friendlier toward him. As he made his way to the bar, he pondered this oddity. It was the first time he could bring himself to go anywhere public outside of work besides the Replimat. Morn kept shooting him strange looks, and Quark avoided him, shoving Rom in his direction instead to serve him. That cinched it for him. Something strange was going on, and somehow it involved him. “Rom?” he asked archly.
Rom shot a dirty look at his brother and plastered on a false smile for Garak. “What can I get you tonight? Kanar?”
“That would be a good start,” he said evenly. “And then perhaps you'd like to tell me why Morn seems to think I'm about to start a bar fight, and Quark is avoiding me.”
Rom poured the blue liquor and set it before him. “No,” he said, disconsolately. “I wouldn't like to tell you, but...I will.” He shot a significant look toward a dark corner of the bar. Garak twisted himself to look, only to see Julian sitting at a small table with one of the dabo girls he had seen a few times, a red headed Bajoran whom he had always thought seemed just a little vacuous. He chuffed a soft exhale and turned back toward Rom. “You're aware that Julian and I are no longer together,” he said reasonably. “It doesn't matter to me what he does with his time now.”
Instead of looking reassured, Rom seemed more troubled. “Then you don't know.”
Garak spread his hands. “Apparently not. Enlighten me?”
The Ferengi shot another look toward the doctor and his companion, a resentful look. “That started before you broke up,” he said.
Garak's look took on a fixed quality. “Oh?” he said softly. Things suddenly made so much more sense, Julian's strange behavior in the stock room, his tardiness for their talk. He had been played. As much as it stung his pride to admit it to himself, it was the most likely explanation for the abruptness of the break up and the way it had been handled. Julian had somebody else lined up to replace him, a less complicated option. His rage went immediately cold. Unfortunately, that was when he was at his most ruthless.
Rom nodded. “If you ask me, it's not right. Bad enough that he didn't have the decency to wait before breaking things off with you, but now he's just flaunting it openly without any care about who sees or not.”
He couldn't be sure, but it seemed to him that there was something beyond anger on his behalf in Rom's reaction. That would bear closer examination later on, but not yet. He turned his kanar glass in his hand and took a deliberate swallow, offering Rom a cold, reptilian smile. “Then it would seem that I am very fortunate he decided to leave,” he said. “Who needs such fickleness in his life?”
“Garak,” Rom said in a warning tone, “you're not going to hurt him are you? He's not worth it.”
“My dear friend, that is precisely what I am going to do,” he said quietly. “Only not in the way you seem to think. Give me a little credit, please.”
“No credit,” Rom said automatically, then gave a self-deprecating chuckle. “Sorry, habit. What are you going to do?”
“You'll see,” he said, polishing off the kanar and setting the glass on the bar top neatly. “Now, that doesn't explain Morn's or your brother's behavior.”
Rom looked uncomfortable. “He has a betting pool about whether you're going to kill the doctor or not when you find out.”
Garak set his payment on the bar and walked down the length of it to where Morn sat and Quark tried to appear as though he weren't hiding. “I'd like to lay a wager,” Garak said to Quark, “that you are going to pay me every strip of latinum you've collected on the bet that I would kill Doctor Bashir.”
“Or?” Quark asked carefully. Garak graced him with the look that took less than four hours to reduce a Cardassian doctor to a quivering mass of nerves. It took less than two minutes for Quark to retreat to the back and return with a sizable sack. “Here,” he said, “take it with my sincere apologies.”
“Give me your tally sheet,” Garak said.
“Wh-what?” The bartender looked startled.
“You expect me to take your word that this is all of it?” the tailor asked. “I do hope for your sake that the figures match when I take this home with me to count it.”
Quark quickly snatched the sack back. “I don't know what I was thinking, giving you this ugly old thing,” he said, backing away. “You're a man of taste and discernment. Let me get you something more fitting for your latinum while I fetch that sheet.”
Morn eyed Garak appreciatively and chuckled. Polishing off his drink, the Lurian stood and casually walked away. Perhaps he sensed the danger of Garak's current mood, or perhaps he genuinely had elsewhere to be. It didn't matter to Garak. Quark returned with a nice case and an envelope. “This is better,” he said. “Please, keep the case with my compliments.”
“I trust I don't have to ask that you never start another betting pool revolving around my personal life,” Garak said mildly.
“Noooo. No,” Quark said with a nervous laugh. “I honestly don't know what I was thinking, and you know, I feel a little guilty, seeing as how it's one of my employees who behaved so shamefully.”
“Quark,” Garak said, reaching to pat his shoulder. The Ferengi flinched under his touch. “We both know you don't hire your dabo girls for their enormous...brains.” He left the bar then, making a point of catching Julian's eye and nodding cordially to him.
He had to wait a few days for his opportunity to set his plan in motion. The arrival of one of Starfleet's most prestigious flagships gave him what he wanted, the doctor out of the infirmary for official meeting and greeting. He retreated to his stock room for privacy, steeled himself, and punched his back wall hard enough to break several bones in his hand. Nothing like a little pain to clear the head, he thought grimly, carefully cradling the damaged appendage against his chest and walking down to the infirmary.
Nurse Decla looked up from a terminal, opening her mouth and then shutting it again when she saw his bloody knuckles. A few of the other employees glanced at her, but she shook her head as though to indicate she'd deal with him. “You had better come to the back,” she said. Inclining his head, he followed behind her. His hand throbbed and ached, already beginning to swell and discolor. He sat on the bed she indicated and obediently held his hand out for her to examine when she reached for it. “What happened?” she asked, running a tricorder over it.
“I slipped and fell,” he said smoothly.
She snorted. “You and the doctor are quite the accident prone pair.” She paused a masterful beat before adding, “Or rather, not a pair anymore, I should say.” He bit down on his tongue while she shifted the bones back into place and reached for an instrument to mend them. “Let me guess. When you heard that this Doctor Lense that he can't stop talking about was actually here, on top of his new dabo girl interest, you lost control, just as you did the night you brought him here for treatment of a concussion.”
“You have quite an imagination,” he said with a bland smile.
“I don't need an imagination to know that Cardassians have a temper, Mr. Garak,” she said. “What did you punch?”
He dropped his gaze. “A wall,” he murmured.
She tsked her tongue. “While I can sympathize with you, being abandoned for another, I really can't condone such childish behavior. I would've thought someone like you above punching walls.”
“I'm sure you do sympathize,” he said, “considering you went through it yourself with that Gul of yours. Did he talk to you about his family before he left, or did he leave you to figure it out for yourself after he was gone?”
She glanced up at him from her work on his hand, a complex look beneath the surface irritation. “Make a fist for me,” she said. He did so, blood oozing from his split knuckles. She took another reading and reached for a sanitary cloth to clean his hand, then the dermal regenerator.
“What did you do when he left?” he asked casually. “Your reaction. Is that why you married?”
“Don't push your luck,” she said coolly.
He smiled slightly. “I thought we were simply making conversation. You set the tone at the outset with the personal questions. Was I mistaken in following your lead?”
“You weren't so quick to follow my lead before,” she pointed out, keeping her eyes on her work.
His smile inched wider, his gaze hooded over her bent head. “Come now. We're back to that? Are you actually going to hold it against me that I didn't want to cheat on my lover or allow you to hurt him?”
“I imagine you feel rather foolish now,” she said brusquely, setting aside the regenerator once his hand looked normal again. The fine new scales gleamed with a slight, opalescent sheen. “Wasting your consideration on someone who didn't deserve it.”
“No,” he said, “I don't. At the time, I didn't know he didn't deserve it.” He met her gaze and held it. “Any more than I deserved what you did to me after his attack.” Her cheeks colored faintly. “What was that really about?” he asked. “The more I've thought about it, the more I've come to believe it couldn't have been about me. We were hardly close, and while rejection stings, you also had to know I wasn't rejecting you personally but situationally. It was about your other Cardassian, wasn't it? Just like you Bajorans,” he added more softly, allowing bitterness into his voice. “You see one Cardassian, you see them all.”
“You have some nerve throwing accusations,” she said, her green eyes hardening. “I've done some thinking, too, Mr. Garak. You were here for part of the occupation. I'm not stupid enough to believe you were a tailor. Your fight and drive during your physical therapy disabused me of that notion permanently. You know we have good reasons to feel the way we do.”
“And yet, not only did you take one—a dangerous one—for a lover, you were ready to take another. You're quite the bundle of contradictions, Nurse Decla,” he said. “Or is it about power? The Gul your prisoner, my position less than...optimal...” He curved his smile to a more knowing line. “It can be a rush, can't it, exerting control over those you see as powerful?” Her cheeks colored more deeply. He knew he was hitting close to truth if not directly on it. She wasn't offering heated denial yet. He extended another barb. “Humiliating them?”
“How dare you?” she asked, clenching her fists.
There, he thought, tilting his head quizzically. “I'm sorry?” he asked.
“I'm nothing like you,” she said. “I loved him, and I won't let you sully that with your disgusting innuendo. I've healed your hand. It's time for you to go.” She stepped back to give him room to stand.
He did so, deliberately invading her space just a touch more than was appropriate. “It's understandable,” he said. “You're right. I do know what some of my people were responsible for. No one could reasonably hold it against you for wanting to get back a little of your own, regardless of the appropriateness of your targets.”
“Is that what you're trying to do?” she countered, refusing to retreat even though he could tell she wasn't comfortable with his proximity. “Get back a little of your own? How stupid would I have to be not to see this as your way of trying to get at Bashir?”
He tipped his head back and laughed. “Yes, I broke my own hand to get at Julian.” Mirth danced in his eyes. “As I've said, you have an active imagination. So tell me, what should be my encore? A broken leg? Dislocated shoulder? If I specifically wanted to see you, I could've caught you unawares in any number of places without going through such trouble and pain. Do you honestly believe I keep track of your work schedule?” He eyed her with faint contempt.
Muscle leaped beneath the thin skin of her jaw as it clenched. “No, I suppose you're right,” she said tightly. “You Cardassians are opportunists. You didn't have to plan coming in here to try to dig at me.” She turned. He noticed she didn't fully turn her back on him, keeping him within her line of sight and creating some distance between them. “I suppose you think I deserve it. Of course, you'd think it was malice that guided my hand with your infirmary visitation.”
“Of course,” he agreed, positively fascinated with where she was taking this. She was good. Her expression matched what she was saying and how she was saying it. There was just too much anxiety, though. Her pulse gave her away.
“Computer, close examination room one door,” she said, turning to face him again. “How do you think my staff would have reacted had I granted you unchallenged access to the doctor?” she asked.
“They're your staff,” he said, being deliberately obtuse. “It shouldn't matter what they think.”
She gave an impatient gesture. “How very Cardassian of you. I can't fire them or have them hauled away for disliking me or disapproving of my actions. I have to maintain a cooperative work environment. Believe me. They could make my life and the running of this infirmary a difficult hell if they wanted.”
A smile played at the corners of his mouth. “So it was fear of your staff,” he said. “You. Afraid of your staff.” He laughed again. “I never knew how very amusing you could be.”
“Laugh if you like,” she said, sounding annoyed. “It's not just concern over the work environment, but over how they would feel. I don't know how much the doctor shielded you from this or not, but he suffered quite a bit of difficulty in this facility due to his relationship with you. Had I showed some sort of favoritism, too, we could have had some resignations. With the Dominion threat, it is getting harder to fill any sort of staffing position on this station. I don't know about you, but I don't consider infirmary staff expendable with us sitting right on the gateway to the Gamma Quadrant.”
He invaded her space again, more aggressively this time. He watched her breath rate increase, her nostrils flare slightly. “It all sounds so very reasonable,” he said softly, “except for one problem.”
“What's that?” she asked, her eyes wide, pupils contracted.
“You're afraid right now. Of me.”
“That's ridiculous,” she asserted lifting her chin defiantly. “I would have security in here on top of you before you could finish lifting your hand.”
“No,” he shook his head. “Not of violence. It's something else.”
She swallowed, and before he knew what she was doing, she launched herself against him, wrapping her arms tightly at his neck and kissing him forcefully. It took everything he had not to chortle. That wouldn't do, though. It would spoil the game. He pulled his head back, only to have her tangle her fingers deeply into his hair and draw him back down to her. Slowly, he raised his arms, pressed his hands to her back, let her believe he was surrendering to her charms. Her heart was hammering, yes, so hard that he could feel it through his hands, but her pupils were almost pinpoints. Whatever this was, it wasn't arousal. When she broke the kiss, she whispered, “I've wanted to do that for such a long time. If you thought I was afraid, it was only that you'd reject me again.” Slipping her hands lower, she trailed long, slender fingers over the sensitive ridges of his neck.
He didn't have to feign a physical response to that. He hissed an inhale through his nostrils. “Are you sure it wasn't fear that I wouldn't reject this?” he asked.
“I don't do anything I don't want to, Garak,” she said low.
He didn't doubt that, although he wouldn't put it past her to use an undesirable means to an end, even extreme means. Very well, he thought. We'll play this game your way for now. Either way it worked for him and his own designs. If she believed that she could seduce her way out of his grudge, let her. It would be all the more entertaining when the hammer dropped.
“You're serious about this?” he asked, stepping back from her.
She nodded and smiled tentatively. “I am. If it's too soon for you, I understand.” She gave a soft, uncomfortable laugh. “I can't believe I just did that at work.”
“No, it's not too soon,” he said, allowing a touch of wounded pride into his voice. “If Julian can move on so quickly, why shouldn't I?”
Her expression fell for a split second. He wondered if another Bajoran would have even noticed it. “Well, good,” she said. “So, what do we do now?”
“Nothing now,” he said, giving a glance about the exam room. “You told me once you don't mix work and pleasure, and it's a very good policy. How about dinner tonight at Quark's, and then we can see where it goes from there?”
“You're sure?” she asked. “I would hate for this to be what the Terrans call a rebound.”
“What an odd word,” he said. “Do you know what it means?”
“Not precisely,” she said. “All I know for certain is that they use it in reference to a relationship that starts as a result of a breakup.”
“Do you believe I had no interest before now?” he asked.
“No,” she said thoughtfully. “I could tell that you did.” She nodded then and slid a hand down his arm, tangling her index and middle fingers with his. “I'm...glad we're putting all that ugliness behind us,” she said. “I didn't enjoy it.”
She lies so beautifully, he thought with true enjoyment. “So am I,” he said. “Meet me at Quark's at 2000?”
“All right,” she said. “How should I dress?”
“Wear that red dress of yours. It's very flattering,” he said with a smile. This couldn't have possibly gone better. He had no idea she'd play into his hands the way that she did, thinking it was going to be much harder. Of course, he imagined he would actually have to seduce her and that it would've taken several separate encounters over the next few weeks. It never occurred to him she would take the same tact, just for a different reason. As he left the infirmary, he reflected that she must have loved that Gul very, very much. Even now, she was trying to protect him. He was almost certain of it.
Julian
Quark's Bar
He couldn't believe it. Doctor Elizabeth Lense, his main rival all throughout medical school, just walked right past him as though she didn't even see him, talking and laughing with her crew mates from the Lexington. He felt as though he had just been slapped hard across the face; all of that worry, all of his preparations so that when they finally met and conversed she wouldn't think him an idiot was for nothing, because she thought she was too good even to acknowledge him. He glanced back at Miles, still seated at the table they had shared while waiting for him to find an opening, and the man shrugged, looking puzzled.
He retook his seat, and when Quark came by to deliver more drinks, he glared hard at him, daring him to taunt him again about the woman. Seemingly sensing he was in no mood for it, Quark just set the drinks down and hurried away. He didn't even want to look over at Morn, not wanting to face the Lurian's leer. How could anyone who looked like that get the women he did? It was one of the mysteries of the universe, and in this very moment, the mystery pissed him off. Miles opened his mouth to speak. “I don't want to hear it,” the doctor snarled, downing half of his ale in one swallow.
“Bloody hell,” Miles muttered, glancing toward the door.
“What?” he asked, starting to turn.
The Chief took him by his shoulder to stop him. “Nothin',” he said, going for nonchalance and failing.
“Like hell, Miles,” he said, shrugging him off to turn. He couldn't believe it. Garak, dressed to the nines in one of Julian's favorite tunics, the one with rust chevrons, escorted Nurse Decla into the bar. The woman was stunning in a red gown that bared her shoulders and a tasteful amount of her ample cleavage. She had her hair down and was leaning quite familiarly on Garak's arm. He wondered if this day could possibly get any worse or more surreal as they moved toward the stairs to claim a table on the balcony. He looked away quickly before either of them could catch him staring. “Is this another hallucination?” he grumbled.
Miles snorted. “He's only doin' it to get under your skin. You know that, right?”
“You have no idea how true that probably is,” Julian said sourly, but he refused to explain further. He felt his attention drawn toward them like lodestone to iron. It was time to get out of there before he made a scene. It wasn't jealousy, he told himself, at least not precisely. How could Garak ever allow himself to spend time socially with a woman who had done everything in her power to hurt him when she had the chance? Didn't he know the woman could be dangerous?
He knew that Garak had spotted him talking to Leeta. Was that also why Odo and Kira both seemed a little distant lately? Did they believe the rumor that he had dumped Garak so that he could date Leeta? They weren't even dating, just talking occasionally, and who were either of them to judge? They had no idea what Garak had done to him! Was that a dirty look Rom just shot him? Rom? Now you're getting paranoid, he told himself.
“Julian?” Miles shook his shoulder. “You all right?”
“Not really. Can we get out of here and get drunk?” he asked.
“Music to my ears,” the engineer said with a chuckle and stood.
He told himself not to, but he couldn't stop himself. As he stood, he looked up to the balcony. At that angle, he could barely see their faces. They were awfully close to one another for that to be an act, and anyway, he reflected, even if Garak was just doing this to try to hurt him, how in the hell would he manage to get a woman who hated him as much as she did to go along with him for it? That part didn't make sense at all. I hope you know what you're doing, he thought, genuinely worried beneath his snark.
He followed Miles to his quarters, the two of them wasting no time breaking into the booze and starting the drink fest. “You know,” he said, downing a shot of scotch, “I really need to start contributing to the Miles O'Brien private bar fund,” he said, “as often as we wind up doing this.”
“You're more 'n welcome to,” Miles said. “I won't complain, though Keiko might when she gets back.”
“That's going to be a little strange for you, isn't it?” Julian asked.
Miles shrugged. “It won't be so bad. I miss her 'n Molly. We won't have as much time together, though, you 'n me.”
“I know,” he said glumly, just one more thing to go wrong lately. The truth was that he missed Garak, much more than he had thought he would. The only reason he hadn't called him to set up a lunch date was because he wanted to give him some time and space to get over the break up. Looks like he's well on the way to that, he thought angrily. Maybe he had given him too much space?
He shook himself out of the thoughts. He was only pissing himself off, and what could he do about it? March back there and ask the two of them what they thought they were doing? Miles started to sing, and he quickly joined in, a song he had always loved. This was much better than discussing literature and being insulted over his tastes, right? If only Miles liked theater. His thoughts were all over the place, going back to Elizabeth Lense and his snubbing. Why would she do such a thing? What had he ever done to her? Hell, he had thrown that exam, thrown it, just so no one would suspect his secret. It galled. It galled worse because he could never tell her that he had given her first place, handed it right over because his parents warned him what would happen if he was too visible, not just to him but to all of them.
He scoffed at Miles' theory that the woman was in love with him and felt slightly stung at his assertion that people either loved him or hated him. Was that true? If it was, what would happen when Garak decided he didn't love him, if he hadn't already decided it? How could the tailor believe for an instant that he had started a relationship behind his back? Didn't he know him better than that?
He tuned back in to what Miles was saying, having to smile at two assertions that he quite definitely no longer hated him but his inability to say that he loved him. He kept up his outward cheer, started singing with him again, and privately thought how odd it was that at first Garak had been the one unable to tell him that he loved him, now Miles. Of course, Miles meant it in a different way. He thought back further to his mother, his father. “I love you,” wasn't a common declaration in the Bashir household. Had they said it to him once since he discovered his secret? Maybe people sense something, he thought gravely. Something about me that pushes them away, makes them careful.
He realized that Miles was no longer singing and was looking at him strangely. He plastered on a goofy smile. “What?” he asked, exaggerating his own drunkenness.
“I don't know,” the man said. “You just looked so sad just now. That whole Garak/Nurse Decla thing really got under your skin, didn't it?”
“I suppose so,” he said. It wasn't entirely a lie. Almost none of his lies ever were. They all had a kernel of truth. It was the only way he could ever be convincing with them.
“People move on,” he said. “You've been moving on. Why shouldn't Garak?”
“It's not the same,” he said, staring into his scotch glass. “I like Leeta. She's nice, and I think maybe I would like to date her at some point. I'm not doing it to hurt Garak or even to move past him. Nurse Decla...God, Miles, she tried to keep Garak from seeing me when everyone thought I was dying, and he's content just to set that aside and pretend it didn't happen so he can piss me off? It doesn't make sense. It doesn't make sense that she'd help him. She hates him!”
“Maybe she doesn't hate him as much as you think she does,” he suggested. “A woman scorned, that sort of thing.”
“Maybe,” he said, his brow furrowing. He looked up suddenly. “Why can't you say it?” he asked.
The engineer blinked in confusion. “You lost me there,” he said, tipping back the rest of his scotch.
“You said people either love me or hate me,” he said plaintively. “But all you can say is you don't hate me.”
O'Brien opened his mouth and shut it a few times, looking like a gasping fish. “Well, you know,” he said, flushing at the cheeks and ears.
“No,” Julian said. “I don't know. Tell me.”
The Chief grunted and deftly plucked Julian's glass out of his hand. “I think you've had enough,” he said firmly.
“Garak couldn't say it either,” he said softly, looking at the shiny toes of his boots. “Not for the longest time. When he finally did, I left him less than three weeks later. What does that say about me?”
“Nothin',” Miles said gruffly. “It says things didn't work out. That's not all on you; it's not all on him.”
“What does it say about me that my best friend can't tell me he loves me?” he pressed, raising his gaze to meet the concerned hazel eyes.
Miles' redness deepened. “Nothin',” he said more forcefully. “Jaysus, Julian, is it really that important to you?”
He shook his head, forcing a mischievous grin. “You should've seen your face.”
“Very funny,” the man said, exasperated. “You really had me goin' there for a minute. Don't do that t' me, not when I've had this much t' drink. You want some more?” he asked.
Julian nodded and accepted the refilled glass. He believed that he understood, at least where Miles was concerned. The man did love him, but not just as a friend, not the way he loved Miles. Why else flush, hem and haw, and act so relieved when he let him off the hook? He closed his eyes as he downed the burning drink. How had his life gotten so screwed up in such a short amount of time? “I ought to go,” he said, setting the shot glass on the coffee table.
“You sure? You're pretty gone,” Miles said. “No need to go staggerin' off when you can sleep here.”
“I'm sure,” he said, patting his arm. “I want to get up early so I can confront Doctor Lense before she leaves, and I don't think I'm the best company at the moment.”
“All right,” he said, his disappointment plain in bluff features. “You know I don't expect you t' be perfect company.”
“I know,” he said, smiling faintly. “It's one of the things I...don't hate about you.”
Miles grinned and struggled to stand at the same time he did. The engineer pulled him into a hearty embrace, clapping him on the back and letting him go. “You need anythin', you let me know.”
“I will,” he said. “Thank you, Miles.” Once out in the corridor, he lifted a hand to his mouth. Had he done something to encourage that? He imagined his friend must feel torn in two given the fact that he was married and had a child. He determined that he would be careful, never do or say anything to make things worse. It was the least he could do. Why was it that the people in his life that he did want to love him that way found it so hard, and yet the one person he would least want to see him in that light apparently couldn't help himself?
Instead of heading for his quarters, he made the ill advised decision to return to Quark's Bar. He didn't expect to find Garak or Elizabeth there, yet a perverse part of him hoped that he would. If he found the former, he wanted to see if he was still bothering with his act when his main target had left. If he found the latter, he wanted to ask her who in the hell she thought she was to treat him that way. In his state, both options seemed eminently reasonable.
The crowd around the dabo table was a lively one. A flash of red drew his attention. He angled closer through the press. Yes, it was Nurse Decla, playing dabo. Garak stood by her side, obviously a spectator, not a player, but his hand rested possessively at the small of her back. It was as though his entire world reduced to that sight, a gray hand against a snug red dress, more demonstrative with her in one outing than he had been with Julian for months of dating.
In a split second, he made the decision to confront him. He hadn't gotten five steps before he found himself stopped by a tight hand to his elbow. Whirling to see who had grabbed him, he looked down at Rom. “What are you doing?” he asked the waiter.
“What are you doing?” Rom retorted, glaring at him more heatedly than he had ever seen. He wouldn't have ever suspected him of such fierce emotion.
He made an exasperated sound and tried to shake himself free of the clasp. “What I'm doing is none of your business,” he said. “You had best let me go.”
“Look at him,” Rom hissed, dragging him through the crowd for a different view. “Smiling. Happy. Haven't you done enough? Leave him alone for once!”
His head spun. The crowd seemed entirely too loud. He couldn't deny what he was seeing. The tailor did look relaxed, and he was smiling, particularly when Decla suddenly declared, “Dabo!”, took her money, and threw both arms around his neck, kissing his cheek. She declined another spin, and the two disappeared from his view in the milling throng, only to re-emerge closer to the bar. He had to get out of there. Rom released him as soon as he realized he was heading for the door and not Garak and Decla.
The rest of the Promenade was empty. He suddenly felt too sick to try to go to his quarters. He'd be lucky if he made it to the infirmary without disgorging the contents of his stomach. As he staggered through the door, he waved off help, going to the back and injecting himself with an anti-intoxicant. Gradually, his disorientation and illness faded, but not his hurt and confusion. What if he was being arrogant? Wasn't it possible this wasn't about him at all? Garak had said when they were still together that he had found the woman interesting. Now that he was free to pursue the interest, why did it have to be more complicated than that? “You need to get over yourself,” he said. “He was gracious when he saw you with Leeta. You need to be gracious.” A small part of him he rarely gave voice protested this strongly. But I don't want to!
Want it or not, he knew this was something he'd have to get used to. Decla wasn't going anywhere, and neither was Garak. Maybe he should invite him to lunch soon, start acting like the adult he kept insisting that people treat him as. He walked back to his quarters deep in thought. His maturity lasted for all of the walk, giving in to another bout of drinking and self pity, and ending with him lying flat on his stomach in bed in his full uniform and drooling on his pillow from passing out. Learning the next day that Doctor Lense mistakenly thought he was an Andorian and was actually quite a nice woman once she realized who he was seemed almost anticlimactic to him after all of his deep worry about her. He wished that things with Garak could resolve that simply, but he knew that was asking way too much.
Garak
Habitat Ring Two
Feeling very satisfied with himself, Garak graciously walked Decla, Lisane, he reminded himself, back toward her quarters. She had been everything he could have possibly hoped for at the bar. He had seen Julian's face when they entered and had taken mean delight in how perfectly his expression mirrored how Garak had felt when Rom told him of his betrayal. Not so much fun when the kicking boot is on another foot, is it? he had thought. Not surprisingly the doctor didn't stay, escorted out by his pet engineer. He wondered if Julian knew that the man's affections were somewhat more than they seemed. It amused him overly much to think that he didn't, and that O'Brien would follow him like a lovesick pup for an indefinite time. The racist engineer's dislike of him was thoroughly mutual.
After Julian departed, he had turned his attention toward his companion. Ironically, she was excellent company, intelligent, sharp witted, incisively humorous. It was a real shame that she had so thoroughly gotten on his bad side. Otherwise, he would've enjoyed her for entirely different reasons.
“You're very quiet,” she said, squeezing his arm with her hands and leaning closer as they walked.
“Just reflecting on the evening,” he said amiably. “Don't take this the wrong way, but I didn't expect I would enjoy myself nearly as much as I did.”
“That makes two of us,” she said with a soft laugh. “I've never played dabo before, just watched.”
“You were smart about it,” he said.
“Oh?” she asked, arching a brow.
“Yes. You knew when to quit.” Too bad the same couldn't be said of your infirmary game, he thought, keeping his features carefully bland and pleasant.
They stepped up to her door. “Here we are,” she said unnecessarily. He noticed her pulse quickening and glanced at the wide-set green eyes. Her pupils were small. Fear. Again.
There was a time not so long ago in his past that he might have found that stimulating as well as satisfying. Now, he had to settle for satisfying. “Yes, we are,” he said, covering one of her pale hands on his arm with his own. Her skin was hotter than Julian's, the Bajoran metabolism slightly faster.
She lowered her lashes, shadowing the upper curve of her cheeks. “Do you...want to come inside?” she asked.
He knew she would let him if he pressed the issue and that it would likely take them some pleasurable places, except for the fact that he wasn't interested in bedding a terrified woman, no matter how much he disliked her. That didn't mean he couldn't make her squirm a little. “Do you want me to?” he asked, settling a finger beneath her chin and encouraging her to meet his gaze with light upward pressure.
Her breath caught. He saw her internal struggle to hold his gaze, a losing battle as she looked swiftly to the side. “I'm not sure I'm...ready for that,” she said.
He was quite sure she wasn't. “That's all right, Lisane,” he said in his most understanding tone. “Just going out and having an enjoyable dinner was nice for me. I wasn't expecting more.”
She relaxed slightly and licked dry lips. “Thank you, Garak,” she said. “I ought to confess something to you,” she said hesitantly.
He smiled inwardly. These little acts of hers were growing more entertaining with each passing interlude. “Yes?” he asked, all innocent curiosity.
“I'm half afraid that you're just...biding your time to do something awful to me. I haven't met many Cardassians willing to forgo grudges.”
It was an interesting tactic, he thought, telling him the truth with a false motive. “That's funny,” he said. “I've been thinking the same all night, what it is you really want with me.” Two could play that game.
She curved a smile and looked away, her chin lifting. “I'm attracted to you, more than I should be,” she said. “As I told you before, there's much in you that reminds me of my old lover.”
“So it's nostalgia?” he all but purred the word, dropping into intimate tones.
Her pupils widened slightly before contracting again. He'd have to remember that, that she responded well to audial stimulus. As it wasn't a Cardassian strength, he often forgot that other races were different. “Perhaps a bit,” she murmured. “I probably should get to bed,” she said, taking a step back from him toward her door. She looked genuinely disconcerted beneath her veneer of calm.
“As should I,” he said in that same tone of voice. Faint color blushed across her chest and cheeks. He smiled, stepping back instead of forward, and inclined his head deeply, maintaining eye contact. “Good night, Lisane.”
“Good night,” she said, waiting for him to begin walking away before turning her back to punch in her door code.
He heard the hiss of the door opening, her footsteps darting across the threshold, and another hiss as it closed behind her. He smiled to himself, taking his time in his stroll for the turbolift. She did feel some genuine attraction, and it bothered her. Good, he thought. Can't have you enjoying this game too much. He had a lot of work to do if he intended to bring his plans for her to full fruition. As far as he was concerned, he had already extracted his pound of flesh from Julian. The young man was a victim of his own nature and youth, but this Bajoran woman had no such excuses. The simple fact of the matter was that she had managed to hurt him, deeply, and now? Now she would pay for it.
The End
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-07 02:08 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-07 07:58 pm (UTC)This one was frustrating to write, but I didn't really want to depart entirely from Julian's relationship with Leeta on the show, because I actually love her as a character and where they took her later. All I can say is that things are going to be...interesting...for a while, probably in the Chinese curse sense of the word, living in interesting times. :-D
Thanks for the review!!
(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-07 03:25 pm (UTC)Again: GAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
More in-depth feedback to come, but just wanted to mention that I had wondered how you were going to deal with the Leeta/Bashir stuff and I think you handled it well. I loathe Decla by the story!
(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-07 08:04 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-07 04:34 pm (UTC)I'll admit, I'm so sad they're apart! But there's so many wonderfully frustrating and entertaining consequences happening. I can't wait to see what all this turns into. I'm constantly surprised.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-07 08:13 pm (UTC)I'm sad to see them apart, too. I actually think that Julian's instincts and Garak's more rational analysis, however, were correct. They couldn't continue in that particular destructive pattern without winding up loathing each other. Maybe this time apart will do them some good? :-D
(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-08 02:38 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-07 08:47 pm (UTC)You better get them back together, missy!
Apart from that I loved it! Decla is becoming very dear to me. :oP And woah you are really getting pairing crazy here! Let's see what we have, either declared or hinted: G/B, O/K, R/Lee, B/Lee, G/oc, B/O'B, Kei/O'B. Woah. What a ride!!
Will be biting my nails while waiting for more.
(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-07 10:03 pm (UTC)I love Decla, too, bless her black little heart. She's in for quite a little ride, herself, if Garak is to be believed. >:]
I love the pairing "flow chart". LOL Of course, I'm setting all of this up for a climactic orgy in the Fire Caves at the end of my alternate series, replete with Johnny Cash's "Ring of Fire" as a sound track and every single main and recurring character involved. "What You Leave Behind" are nothing but condoms and empty booze cans, and a whole crap ton of WTF man? WTF?!! *grin*
Thanks for the lovely feedback!
(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-08 02:40 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-08 08:20 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-09 09:51 am (UTC)I love the O'Brien love and I hate Decla so much. I SO can't wait to find out what happens next! This is just the most wonderful series... I love it so very much!
Thank you!
(no subject)
Date: 2010-01-09 10:05 am (UTC)I'm not a full on B/O'B supporter, but the implications even in canon are pretty hard to ignore, so I had to go there somewhat at least. Decla was born to be hated, really. I'm glad she fills her role.
I appreciate the continued reading and reviews! The next is underway as we speak.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-05-03 11:09 pm (UTC)It is a testament to your writing that I had the same reaction again reading it after almost a year. You write a relationship that's just too stretched two people who have just been pushed too far to really hang on any further so well and so realistically.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-02 08:23 am (UTC)I really appreciate the review!