Rites of Passage--Part II, Conclusion

[dark_sinestra]

Garak

Private Quarters

 

It didn't happen often, but occasionally restlessness struck Garak to the point that nothing sufficed, not his reading, not his work, not people watching on the Promenade. There was a time not so long ago that he would have known exactly what to do with himself when he found himself in such a predicament, but that avenue was closed to him now. He still felt currents of self-loathing for what he had allowed himself to do to his ex. Julian obviously couldn't forgive him; nor could he forgive himself. He reflected that this was as it should be. It didn't stop it from hurting.

 

He decided to leave his quarters, as staying cooped up only served to exacerbate the condition. The turbolift descended, thankfully empty. Initially, he intended to stay on until he reached the Promenade. However, when he reached H-ring two, he made an impulsive decision to disembark. He considered that this might be pushing things too quickly. He'd know for certain soon enough. Strolling casually to Lisane's, he chimed her door, knowing that she would be off shift by now. He identified himself at her query and was pleased when the door slid open to admit him.

 

She was still in uniform, but she had taken her hair down. She looked surprised to see him. “I got home late,” she said apologetically, “so I haven't eaten yet. I hope you don't mind?” She paused on her way to her replicator. “Would you like to join me?”

 

“I've eaten, but I'll gladly sit with you,” he said pleasantly.

 

“It's nice to have dinner company,” she said. She replicated herself a small meal and brought it to the table, taking a mug of red leaf tea from her tray and setting it before him as he approached.

 

He waited for her to take her seat then took his own. “Thank you for the tea.”

 

“It's rare you're not in the mood for that,” she said. “How was your day?”

 

“Uneventful. Yours?”

 

“The usual,” she said, shrugging. “As usual as things get when one works in an infirmary. I hear that you and the doctor will be resuming your lunches.” She took a bite of her food and eyed him curiously.

 

He had to laugh. Gossip traveled on winged feet on this station. “Yes,” he said. “Apparently, enough time has passed for him that he isn't completely averse to my company. I'm pleased.”

 

“Good for you,” she said. “For you both. There's rarely a reason that a broken romance can't resolve in friendship.”

 

He sipped his tea and listened to her, not just what she said but how she said it. As always, there was subtext in her words, a complexity to her timbre that made him frustrated with his own somewhat limited hearing. He simply inclined his head in response to this, and they lapsed into silence while she ate.

 

After she wiped her mouth and sat back in her chair, she asked, “What brought you here tonight? You're never much for small talk or unexpected visits.”

 

He genuinely couldn't articulate a true response to that. Thankfully, telling the truth had never been a bad habit he had allowed himself to cultivate. “I just found myself wanting to see you,” he said.

 

She stood to clear the table and snorted a laugh. “Do you ever get tired of lying?” she asked.

 

“Never,” he quipped, pleased that she had caught him. It was truly refreshing to spend time with someone who was never willing to take him at face value. He watched her drop the tray into the recycler and turn to him, assessment in her wide-set eyes. She approached and circled the round table to his side, then stepped behind him. He tensed without showing it, prepared to react at a moment's notice if necessary.

 

She rested both hands lightly atop his shoulders and leaned in. He felt her flaxen hair threaded with silver tickling his neck and her breath his ear when she murmured, “If you want something, Garak, you're going to have to ask for it. I'm not a mind reader.”

 

He did want. Despite loathing her, perhaps partially because of it, in that moment he wanted fiercely. He turned his head, lips seeking her jawline, only to feel her pull away, her hands slipping from his shoulders. She turned her back on him to walk toward her bedroom. “I'm going to change out of this uniform,” she said. “Make yourself comfortable while you wait.”

 

She knew Cardassians. He saw deliberate provocation in the way she dismissed him and acted on it, pushing to his feet and closing the distance between them before she could get far. He turned her roughly with tight hands at her upper arms, fingers digging into soft flesh. Instead of fighting him, she went perfectly still and met his gaze calmly, her chin lifting. The mixed signals left him less certain. He couldn't afford to get ham fisted with this woman, or everything he was working toward would be ruined. His frustration must have shown, because her smile curved slightly mocking. That was enough. He fell upon her, kissing her roughly, wanting to erase every last trace of smugness. The pupils of her wide eyes contracted, then expanded, darkening the green to moss. He felt her hands over his back and her short nails digging at him through his tunic.

 

When both of them were breathless and gasping, he broke the kiss. “I believe you know what I want,” he said.

 

“I told you that you're going to have to ask for it,” she said, defiant even with her lips swollen and her face flushed.

 

“I won't,” he said tightly, glaring at her without releasing her.

 

“Then you'll have to take it against my will or go without,” she mocked him, steely resolve in her gaze. “I'm not like your doctor, my dear. I won't go quietly.”

 

He could see that she wouldn't, and he wasn't interested in playing that sort of game. He released her arms and stepped back from her, trying to compose himself. She knew exactly how to push his buttons. Knowing what he now knew about her lover, it didn't surprise him. The man was formidable. “Go ahead and change,” he said. “I'll wait.”

 

She smiled more widely and once more turned her back on him to head into her bedroom. He walked to her sofa and took a seat. He realized that coming to her in his current state of mind had been a mistake. His own emotions and drives were working as leverage against him. However, if he left now, she would view it as scoring a point on him, rightly so. He pondered how he might yet turn this to his advantage, but nothing had come to him by the time she emerged once more, not dressed provocatively, as he expected, but rather conservatively in plain, charcoal gray slacks that were neither too loose nor snug and a lighter gray shirt that looked as though she chose it more for comfort than effect.

 

She curled comfortably in the cradle created by the back and arm of the sofa and drew her sock clad feet up, her legs an effective barrier against his getting too close. Resting her elbow at the back of the sofa, she set her cheek in her palm. “What now?” she asked. “I'm not much for small talk, myself.”

 

“I was right about your liking control,” he said, probing to see if he could find her anger again.

 

Instead she smiled, looking truly amused. “Probably as much as you do,” she said. “That leaves us in a bit of a bind, doesn't it?”

 

“I suppose so, and it's all rather stupid, isn't it? We're both adults. There's no reason for us to play such games.”

 

“None,” she agreed, still smiling.

 

“You really expect me to beg,” he said flatly. It was looking as though he would have to find a different way to bring his plan to fruition after all, because there was no way he would ever do such a thing. She was a fool if she thought he would.

 

“Not beg. Ask,” she clarified. “There's a difference.”

 

“Why?” he asked, curious at this insistence of hers.

 

“Because I don't want you taking liberties and making assumptions. If you ask me, there will be no doubt in your mind that what we're doing we do at my sufferance, not because you tricked or seduced me into it, but because you asked me, and I said yes.”

 

“You'll have to forgive me if I don't trust your assertion. I consider it equally likely that I'll ask, you'll say no, and summarily usher me out of your quarters while having a nice laugh at my expense,” he said.

 

“If you want this, that's a risk you're going to have to take,” she said with a one shouldered shrug.

 

If it were about her alone, he'd have no trouble turning around, walking out her door, and never coming back, but he was committed. He was going to have to take some risks, just as with almost anything he did these days. Fully prepared for rejection, he asked, “Will you let me stay tonight?”

 

“I will,” she said, “on one condition.”

 

This should be rich, he thought dryly. “What's that?” he asked, as though it didn't matter one way or the other.

 

She unfurled from her seat and lowered herself to the floor, easing over to him and setting a very warm hand atop his knee. Looking up at him through thick lashes, she said, “You won't be gentle.”

 

Desire washed through him, sharp and intense. Swallowing thickly, he nodded and reached for her wrists, yanking her up against him forcefully. “I promise,” he growled and meant it more sincerely than anything he had ever said to her.

 

Julian

Guest Quarters

 

The doctor blinked at Dax and smiled, glancing at the Trill Guardian standing beside the two of them. “When do we start?” he asked. He actually had more memory of the experience than he let on, but since Kira, Miles, and Leeta didn't seem to have any memories from their experiences, and Quark refused to discuss his, he decided it would be safer to pretend.

 

Dax smiled a little sheepishly. “It's already over,” she said. “I'm sorry. Not everyone recalls what happens during the transfer. Torias got a little heavy handed with the nuts,” she gestured at a half empty bowl. “So if you're worried about your diet, you may want to go light on dinner tonight.”

 

“I do feel rather full,” he said, putting his hand to his belly and rubbing it. “It went all right, then?”

 

“Perfectly. Thank you so much for doing this for me,” she said, pulling him in for a hug and kissing his cheek.

 

“You know all you ever have to do is ask,” he said sincerely. “I can't think of anything I wouldn't do for you.”

 

“I know,” she said and squeezed his hand. “I had better go. Benjamin is waiting for us in the Security Office.” A trace of worry clouded her eyes.

 

“It'll be fine,” he said, less certain than he sounded. Torias had been a strong presence. Had he wished to exert control of his own body, it would have been difficult without the Trill's consent. He knew that Captain Sisko was strong willed and intelligent, but by all accounts Joran had been, too. “You'll have to tell me all about it later.” She nodded, and he parted ways with her and the Guardian out in the corridor. It was getting late, and Miles was still occupied with testing Nog. He decided to pop by the bar anyway to unwind a little and relax after the strange experience of sharing his head space with someone else. He needn't have worried about his secret. Torias didn't pry or seem to have much awareness or concern for him at all.

 

He entered at the balcony level, just because it was most convenient, and allowed his eyes to adjust to the lower light. As he walked toward the stairs, he saw Garak and Decla at the bar. He paused, no longer certain he wanted to be there. He told himself it would be different if Garak were with someone who wasn't so borderline insubordinate with him at work, a woman who obviously held no like or respect for him and whose motives with Garak were highly suspect. He told himself that and knew he was lying to himself. He'd have to get over that jealousy. It was irrational, and it wasn't fair to the tailor. He couldn't play the “I don't want you, but no one else can have you,” game. He couldn't even claim honestly that he didn't want him, although that was a different issue altogether.

 

As he watched them, he came to the sudden realization that they had been intimate. He couldn't explain how he knew it so certainly on a gut level, but he did. Perhaps it was the way she leaned in toward the Cardassian even though they weren't touching, or the possessive glint in his ex's eyes as he spoke with her. He settled his hands to the balcony rail and gripped tightly. He wasn't moving that quickly with Leeta. Of course there were no hard, fast rules about these sorts of things. It just seemed a little sudden to him. Was that why Garak had returned his things when he did? Was he making room for Decla?

 

He was so absorbed in the disturbing thoughts that he didn't see or hear Leeta come up behind him. She touched his shoulder lightly, and he whirled, feeling guilty at having been caught in such obvious jealousy. “You probably shouldn't go down there,” she said. “Speaking to him again and spending time with him and his new girlfriend aren't the same thing. No one is expecting you to be that gracious.” She smiled gently and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “If you want to talk when I get off work, we can. Would you like for me to bring you a drink up here?”

 

“No,” he said, looking apologetic. “I really shouldn't stay. I'd be tempted to watch them, and...I have no business doing that.”

 

“I understand,” she said. “You're welcome to come by later.” She hesitated as though debating with herself and finally added, “Just to talk. It's not that I'm not interested. I just don't think that now would be a good time, not while you're feeling like that.”

 

As much as he hated to admit it, she had a point. “I may take you up on that,” he said. “If I haven't arrived by 2500, don't expect me.”

 

She nodded and walked past him and down the stairs. He watched her go, grateful that she was as understanding as she seemed to be. He didn't think he could take much drama from someone else on top of his own. He decided to withdraw before either Garak or Decla saw him. He didn't want Garak to think he was deliberately following him, and he didn't want to give the nurse the satisfaction of seeing him seeing them. He knew that if she did, she would find a way to rub his face in it the next day.

 

Garak

Quark's Bar

 

While he and Lisane drank together, Garak watched Rom pace and Quark grouse at him for it. He never got involved in that family dynamic. It didn't prevent him from feeling annoyed with Quark. Rom's son was involved in something important both to father and son, so important that Rom had commissioned a uniform from him as a surprise gift for the boy and insisted on paying top price. He wanted to see the young man in it, not because he had any love for Starfleet but because it would make Rom happy.

 

Eventually, Nog and Chief O'Brien emerged from one of the holosuites. The two of them exited the bar together, the boy looking drained and nervous. Garak paid closer attention than he let on, not turning to follow their progress once they were out of his line of sight.

 

“You're distracted,” Lisane said, touching his forearm lightly.

 

He nodded, not bothering to explain why. The last time this woman had discovered who was important to him, she used it against him. He had no reason to believe she wouldn't do so with another given the chance. Their physical intimacy the night before was just that, a scratching of a physical itch. Just because it was a very gratifying scratch didn't mean it drew them closer.

 

She reached over and plucked his kanar glass, taking a swallow from it and setting it back in his reach. Closing her eyes briefly, she gave a quick shake of her head. “Been a long time since I've had that,” she said. “I'm having to reacquire the taste.”

 

He wondered if she was actually speaking of kanar and smiled faintly. Always with the subtext. Did she know it pleased him? It was possible that everything she did was calculated to have such an effect on him. She was as heavily invested in whatever game she was playing as he was in his. He still suspected that she hoped to distract him from her old lover. Yes, she knew Cardassians well. Cupping his hand at the back of her head, he drew her in to taste the kanar on her lips. He didn't care who saw them. If one of his enemies got word that he had a new Bajoran lover, it was nothing to him. Let them do their worst.

 

Quark eyed the two of them as the kiss continued and deepened. “Garak,” he said, “I never thought I'd have to say this to you, but honestly, get a room.”

 

Lisane flushed as she pulled back from Garak, shooting a positively poisonous glance at the Ferengi. “You're going to pretend you have standards?” she asked. “I've seen you do far worse.” As though to emphasize her point, she leaned over the bar and shot a hand out, rubbing a long finger suggestively over the lower curve of his lobe.

 

“Ahhh, uhhhh,” he stammered, grasping the bar top to keep his knees from giving out. “You're going to get me hurt.” He shot a worried look at the tailor.

 

Garak smirked. “I notice you're not moving away,” he observed.

 

“C—an't,” Quark said, his eyes rolling.

 

Her point made, Lisane let him go and resettled on her stool. “Be glad we're not that obscene and stop harassing us,” she said sharply.

 

Quark nodded, catching his breath, and moving away from them to bother Rom some more. “Better be careful,” Garak warned her while he was still in earshot. “I think he likes his women forceful. You may start something you can't easily end.”

 

“You'd be surprised how easily I could end anything I didn't want,” she said, lifting her spring wine and taking a dainty sip.

 

“Not really,” he said drolly. He was about to say more when Odo approached the bar, not looking at all like himself. He blinked at the Trill spots and the more defined face, and his brow ridges dipped in perplexed concern when the security chief kissed Quark on the forehead and called him a magnificent scoundrel. Odo...winked at him?! He then turned and smiled at Sisko, who seemed in on the joke, if that was what it was.

 

As Dax approached to join the trio, Garak put some latinum on the bar and stood, offering Lisane an arm. “Where are we going?” she asked. “And what's wrong with the Constable?”

 

“To a table,” he replied, shaking his head and shrugging with a baffled expression. He didn't know, and he didn't want to be near whatever it was. There was something about the way Odo looked and was behaving that set him on edge. Also, ever since Dax had confronted him in his shop, he hadn't wanted to be around her. It was too visceral a reminder of what he had done to Julian. Whether it was true or not, it seemed to him that her blue eyes always held accusation when she looked at him these days.

 

Lisane accompanied him without questioning him further. The two climbed the stairs together and settled at a table on the balcony where he could watch from a distance. Captain Sisko left, and Odo and Dax began speaking in a way that was far more intimate than he'd have expected of the changeling. Was it possible he had missed some major development in Odo's life while so occupied with his own? When the two of them approached the tongo table, he could barely contain his curiosity any longer.

 

“You could always go ask,” Lisane said, amusement in her voice.

 

“That would spoil the fun of trying to figure it out on my own,” he said, turning his attention back to her. “I'm sorry. I'm being rude.”

 

“I'll live,” she said, settling an elbow to the table top. “If I invite you back to my quarters again tonight, will you accept?”

 

“Invite me and find out,” he said, fixing her with a brilliant blue gaze.

 

“You use those eyes of yours too well,” she said with a soft laugh, “and I'm sure you know it. How much have you gotten away with just because they're beautiful?” She sighed and straightened her shoulders. “Come home with me tonight?”

 

“Yes,” he said. “Soon. I just want one more drink.” He hoped that he wouldn't have to nurse it for too long. However, before they could get the attention of a waiter, Nog came back into the bar, his shoulders drooped and his head downcast. Oh, dear, Garak thought regretfully. That's a shame. He had his answer, but to be on the safe side, he pretended he was still intent on getting someone's attention for a little while longer. “I've changed my mind,” he said, standing and offering her a hand. “I have no intention of waiting here all night just for mediocre kanar.” The two left together with her none the wiser, he hoped.

 

Julian

Leeta's Quarters

 

Feeling as though he had done the lion's share of the talking since he arrived, Julian finally quieted down. He had told Leeta more than he intended, particularly of his concern about Decla and her intentions. It felt good to get it off his chest to someone who wouldn't judge him the way Dax might. Dax just seemed too relieved that he was no longer with Garak. He knew why, and while he appreciated her concern for him, he also felt that she was being too harsh. It wasn't something he felt comfortable telling her. Leeta stroked her fingers through his hair, reclining on the couch while he sat on the floor in front of her with his head leaned back. “What do you think?” he asked at last. “Am I just being crazy?”

 

“No,” she said. “She sounds thoroughly unpleasant. Maybe that's what he wants right now, though.”

 

“I'm not sure I understand,” he said, lifting his head so that he could turn and look at her.

 

“You said he was attracted to her before the two of you broke up. Maybe he wants to get that out of his system, and it's safe because she's not the sort of person he would let himself get close to. I don't know him at all, but from what I've seen of him from a distance he doesn't strike me as a stupid man. I doubt he's suddenly crazy for this woman just because he misses you,” she said.

 

“True,” he said. It made a lot of sense to him. If Leeta were less intelligent and understanding, he probably would have been more intent on just bedding her and less worried about messing up something that could be nice. He knew he wasn't ready for a full blown relationship right now. If anything, it was insecurity, not common sense, telling him that Garak was getting into something meaningful with the Bajoran nurse. “Have you ever considered psychology instead of sociology?” he asked, a teasing light in his eyes.

 

“Are you saying I should charge you for this?” she asked, teasing him back. “The pay has to be better than I make at Quark's.”

 

“And I'm better company than the average dabo player,” he added.

 

She pretended to have to think about it. “I'm not so sure about that.” She couldn't let that stand for long, shooting him an impish smile.

 

“Have I told you how nice it is just being able to relax and be silly with someone?” he asked.

 

“Hmm, maybe once or twice. You could always tell me again if you felt like it,” she said.

 

“It's very, very nice,” he said, leaning his head back on the couch once more.

 

She leaned over him so that he viewed her from upside down. “Hair stroking,” she said emphatically, “is extra.”

 

“You've been working for Quark too long!”

 

“Tell me about it,” she said with an exaggerated sigh and flopped back on her sofa dramatically.

 

Even though she was playing, he sensed something a little more serious beneath it. “Can I ask you something?” he asked, sitting up again and this time drawing his legs under him so that he could sit back on his heels.

 

“Of course,” she said, turning onto her side and propping her cheek in her hand.

 

“Why do you work for Quark? I mean...you're very smart.” He colored slightly, hoping that she wouldn't take it the wrong way.

 

“You really mean why am I a dabo girl,” she said, the playful spark fading from her rich brown eyes.

 

As there was no backing down now without making it even worse, he nodded. “Not that there's anything wrong with it. It just seems a little beneath your skills.”

 

She quirked her lips. “I'm going to be nice to you and take that the way I can tell you mean it. You had just better not let the other girls hear you say things like that to me. With maybe one or two exceptions, I can't think of a single one of us who isn't more intelligent than the demands of the job require. For all of my smarts, I'm self educated. That means there aren't any official jobs for me on Bajor, or elsewhere for that matter. I would like to have a more formal education, and maybe one day I'll be able to afford one. Until then, my options are limited, and I happen to like this better than farming poisoned land.”

 

He felt chastised despite the fact that there was nothing accusatory or defensive in her voice or manner. He also felt ungrateful for his own opportunities, things he took for granted and accepted with resentment due to his circumstances. He didn't realize he was wincing until she reached for one of his hands and said, “Don't do that. Don't feel bad for me.”

 

“I'm not,” he said. “Not exactly. You just reminded me how...fortunate...I've been. I haven't always been as grateful as perhaps I should be.”

 

“It's never too late for gratitude,” she said simply, reaching to ruffle his hair. “I hate to kick you out, but I'm exhausted, and you seem to be feeling better.”

 

“I am,” he said, surprised to find that it was the truth. “You have that effect on me. I'm grateful.” He smiled playfully.

 

“Oh, you're good,” she said with a laugh as she rolled off her couch to stand. She gave him a tight hug and a very sweet kiss. “See you tomorrow?”

 

“I wouldn't miss it,” he said, letting her escort him out. He thought about what she had said about Garak on his way back to his quarters. It was so logical. Why had he been unable to see it for himself?

 

Garak

Garak's Clothiers

 

Garak watched Rom pace in his shop. The Ferengi was so nervous that he was beginning to make the tailor nervous, too. He bit back an instruction to calm down. Rom had told him of how Quark rigged the test so that Nog would fail. Now the boy was taking it again. He also resisted the urge to give the man false assurances. While he had no doubt that Nog was capable, he had no way of knowing if he'd handle himself well under pressure. From what he had seen of him in the past, he wasn't so sure. “Can I get you anything?” he offered instead, unsure of what else to do for him.

 

“No,” Rom snapped, instantly apologizing afterward. “You know I didn't mean it that way. I can't stand this waiting. I don't think it took this long last time.”

 

Garak didn't bother to correct him. “Waiting is always difficult,” he said instead. Hoping to distract him, he asked, “Did you really tell Quark you'd burn down the bar?”

 

“I did,” Rom said emphatically with a look in his eyes that made Garak believe him one hundred percent. “I've never been so angry in my life. For half the night I was talking to my son and having to endure the crushed look on his face. I was already suspicious my brother was up to something because of a few things he had said earlier, but when he came over being so sympathetic, I knew. It didn't take much to get my hand on the data rod and check for myself.”

 

“Nog is lucky to have you for a father,” he said, sounding more wistful than he intended. You're getting so sentimental in your middle age, he chided himself silently.

 

“You never speak of your family,” Rom said suddenly.

 

Damn the man for catching that tone. Ferengi hearing! “No, I don't,” he said in a way that indicated that he wouldn't, even if asked. Blue eyes locked to blue eyes for several long moments before Rom finally looked away. He felt relieved. He didn't want to have to be harsh with him while he was so worried, but he would have been if pressed.

 

“Father! Father!” Nog's squeaky voice carried even to Garak's ears well before the boy burst into the shop and launched himself full tilt into Rom's arms. “I did it! I did it! I passed the test!”

 

Smiling, Garak retreated to the stock room to give them their privacy. Such displays were difficult for him to take. He was making progress in working through his grief for Tain, but any number of things could hit him hard and have him fighting for control. He didn't want to get to that point tonight, not on such a happy occasion. He could hear their voices more indistinctly, then Rom popped his head around the door. “Garak,” he said, “is it OK with you if Nog changes into his uniform here? I want everyone at the bar to see it.”

 

“Of course it is,” he said. He emerged from the room and addressed Nog. “The box is under the counter, right over there.” He pointed and watched the boy dart to fetch it. “You can use any dressing room you like, and Nog?”

 

“Yes sir?” he asked.

 

Garak offered him a genuine smile. “Congratulations.”

 

Julian

Replimat Café

 

Julian tried not to fidget while waiting for Garak to arrive. It was their first lunch date since the break up. He wanted things to go well. More importantly, he wanted to prove to himself that he could do this without feeling too lost or wistful. He held his breath when he entered, wearing the tunic that he knew was Julian's favorite. He wasn't so naïve that he didn't know it was deliberate, but to what end, to please him or to remind him of what he walked away from? He offered a hand to press, that cool palm against his all too briefly. He already had his food tray and watched Garak fetch his. After the man settled, he said, “It has been a pretty eventful few days, hasn't it?”

 

“That it has,” Garak replied. “I'm relieved the Constable is back to himself.”

 

“He told you what happened to him?” he asked.

 

“Indeed,” the tailor nodded, taking a bite of his food, chewing thoroughly, and swallowing it. He sipped at his tea. “I suppose something like that could have happened with any one of you.”

 

“I'm not sure,” he said thoughtfully. “Dax and the Guardian both seemed to think it had something to do with Odo's being a changeling. I confess that I wish I had been able to study the situation before Curzon agreed to return to Dax.”

 

“I personally believe it's sheer foolishness to allow anyone other than yourself into your head,” Garak said with distaste. The doctor had to smile. If the tailor had said anything but that, he would have hauled him into the infirmary to have him checked for brain fever. “What?” the tailor asked, peering at him owlishly.

 

“Nothing,” he said, the smile deepening. “I'm just very glad to see that at least some things around here haven't changed.” As Garak returned the smile, plainly amused, he realized that yes, he could do this, and yes, it would be OK. They were still friends, perhaps better friends than they had ever been in the past precisely because of the weight of all that had happened between them. He dug into his meal with an appetite and allowed himself to feel optimistic about the future despite the Dominion threat. They had weathered other storms. They would weather that one, too, if or when it came.

The End