dark_sinestra

Garak

The Infirmary

Physical Therapy Room

It had been two days since the incident, and with a different medication in his system, Garak hadn't experienced the problem again, although he insisted on testing it alone. He didn't want a repeat of the unbearable arousal that kept him awake the entire night and had him rubbing himself raw against Julian's backside to no avail. It didn't matter that Julian had been understanding. It was humiliating. He had a sneaking suspicion that the Bajoran nurse had known somehow what that medication would do to him, even though she wasn't the one to prescribe it. Of course, he had no way to prove it, and no power in the known universe would persuade him to confront her about it.

He eyed her with veiled resentment when she joined him in the room, looking at his chart. “Your medication has been changed,” she said, glancing up at him.

“By Doctor Bashir,” he said pointedly, daring her with a look to question that.

“Yes, I can read,” she said and set the chart aside. “Any unusual pain? Side effects?”

“Not with the new medication,” he answered.

Nodding, she clapped her hands together. “All right, then, let's get started.”

She was as hard on him as she had been the first time. Only his pride prevented him from asking her to spare him, and they weren't even halfway through the session. Every exercise, no matter what part of his chest, arms, or abdomen that it worked, seemed designed specifically to invoke agony and exhaustion. All the while she was there, either before him or beside him, waiting for him to break or beg, possibly waiting for him to quit. You'll be waiting a long time, he thought dourly.

When she allowed him to lie back, she said, “I don't think you're giving everything you have, Mr. Garak. Not that what I think matters. You're only hurting yourself if you don't push.”

“With all due respect,” he said, “you don't know what you're talking about.”

“Don't I?” She shrugged and unfastened his tunic to place the neural stimulator pad. “Most of my patients are in tears by the end of their sessions.”

“Perhaps I'm made of sterner stuff,” he said, beginning to relax as soon as she turned on the machine.

She laughed. “That's rich. Tell yourself that if you like, but answer me this. If your very life depended on it,” her face loomed into view as she met his gaze, “would you say that what you did today was your true limit? Think about it.” She patted his shoulder and left the room.

At first he rejected the question outright. However, the more thought he gave to it, the more he wondered. Was he lying to himself? Could he really put more into the efforts? He was still thinking about it when she returned and released him for the day.

Nearly three weeks passed with him going through a variety of medications to treat the pain spasms she had promised him, drinking no kanar, performing his morning and night exercises religiously, and truly wringing himself out during the therapy sessions. At times he did come to tears, and at times he roared his pain, cursed her cruelty, and demanded relief. She alternately berated him and mocked him but never gave him quarter. He came to hate her, at the same time respecting her more deeply than he had ever allowed himself to respect any other Bajoran. She was his equal in cruelty and will, a mirror that reflected his own imperfections a little too perfectly.

He thought he'd never see results or improvements until the morning he threaded a needle. He dashed from his shop like a madman with it clutched in his fingers, darting around startled Promenade strollers and security officers alike to the infirmary. “Where is Nurse Decla?” he asked the first orderly he saw.

“It's her day off,” the man said.

“Garak?” Julian stuck his head around his office door and called down the hallway. “Is something wrong?”

“Where does she live?” he asked the doctor.

“Habitat Level H-2, chamber 703,” he said, “but I don't think she'd appreciate your barging in on her on her day off. If you need something, I can get it for you.”

Garak was already on his way out before Julian finished speaking. He didn't care. He just had to tell her. He didn't think to ask himself why. As the turbolift started upward, he rolled the needle between his finger and thumb. The thread danced and twisted, part of it clinging to the thick material of his pants. When the lift came to a stop, he stepped out briskly without resuming his run. He had no intention of arriving at her door out of breath like an eager child. He eyed each designation and slowed when he drew close, finally stopping and pressing the chime.

“Who's there?” her voice came through the comm.

“It's Garak,” he replied.

Several seconds passed before she answered, sounding much warier. “You'll have to wait a few moments, Mr. Garak. I'm not dressed for company. Are you aware how early it is? Never mind. Just wait.”

He did so, only now thinking about what he was doing, what it would look like to her. How many clients for physical therapy did she have? How many of them progressed exactly as she expected them to do so? How could he be sure this progress amounted to much in the larger scheme of things? If she did view him as she would an eager child, he'd have no one to blame but himself. She would be just as likely to use this against him at their next session.

She opened the door, eyed him up and down, and silently stepped aside to admit him. He had never seen her out of uniform or with her hair down. She almost looked like an entirely different person, and unlike most Bajorans he had seen, she knew how to dress. He stepped inside and turned to face her as the door closed, holding up the threaded needle. He intended an offhanded quip, but for some reason his voice failed him.

She curved a faint smile and tilted her head. “As I've told you before, hard work pays off. Did you doubt me?”

“I doubted...myself,” he admitted, dropping his hand back to his side. He suddenly felt foolish. Surely he could have waited until the next therapy session for this? He had nothing left to tell her.

“I didn't,” she said, the smile widening but remaining closed lipped. Turning toward her replicator, she stepped toward it. “What sort of tea would you like? Red leaf?”

“How did you...” he started to ask, suspicion instantly raised. Had she been spying on him in some way?

“It's popular with Cardassians,” she said over her shoulder, ordering two of them and turning to hand him one. “It was that, fish juice, or rokassa juice, and I have no intention of stinking up my quarters with either of the latter.”

“Thank you,” he said, inclining his head and accepting the mug. She returned the gesture, and he found that perhaps they had something to discuss after all. As he glanced around her Spartan quarters, he formulated how he wanted to ask about a suspicion that had been growing for some time. “You seem...very familiar with Cardassians.”

She lifted her mug and regarded him over the rim. “Mr. Garak, you could probably say that to almost any Bajoran over the age of twelve.” She took a careful sip of the hot tea, her eyes never leaving his.

“Perhaps,” he conceded, “but with you, there's more to it than that.”

“Really?” she rolled a bare shoulder in a shrug, the draped red sleeve of her gown split to reveal most of her upper arm.

“Yes, really,” he replied, amused that even now when they weren't engaged in a session, she seemed determined to make things difficult for him. She waited him out with patience he thought worthy of an inquisitor. “Your mannerisms and gestures, the way that you handle me during our sessions. You sometimes remind me of a Cardassian altogether.”

“I considered you rather more civil than that, coming to my quarters uninvited to insult me,” she said. The humor in her eyes belied the words.

“It's no insult from my point of view,” he said lightly, speaking to that look.

“No, you Cardassians think much of yourselves, you even more than most from what I've seen.” She took another sip of her tea and set it aside, trailing her hand down the tabletop as she walked toward her sofa and took a seat. The light material of her gown flared and settled about her gracefully. She gestured to the chair opposite her.

He circled around and sat, making himself comfortable. “Shall I assume you intend to indulge my curiosity?” he asked. He tucked the needle into the hem of his tunic, careful to position it so that he wouldn't prick himself with it accidentally.

“Assumptions are dangerous,” she responded with another of her careful smiles. “Still, you had the audacity to seek me out on my day off at a wholly barbaric time of day. I'm willing to entertain at least some of your questions.”

“How did you gain such familiarity?” he asked.

“You go straight for the jugular, don't you?” she said. “I'm impressed. I don't doubt that you're at least entertaining the possibility that I was a comfort woman. I can see it in your eyes, and yet you asked that anyway without even blinking.

“It wasn't quite like that, though. I had a Cardassian lover. I was probably close to our doctor's age, and he was close to yours. You remind me of him in some ways, too stiff necked by half and full of defenses. I met him when I was a field medic. He became our prisoner for some time. We kept the affair quiet for reasons I am certain you can understand.”

He nodded and sipped the tea. “You must have been close. How long were you together?”

“Long enough,” she said vaguely. “I married a few years after that.” Her gaze grew distant, as though she was no longer seeing him, but someone else, or some-when. “Not him, of course.”

“Of course,” he said. Cardassians didn't marry outside their species, and her lover almost certainly had a wife and children at home, particularly if he were close to Garak's age at the time. “Did he die or leave?”

“He left. I helped him to escape and made it look as though I had an unfortunate accident with an overloaded phaser. I could tell that he was chafing under the confinement. I even knew that if he made it back to his comrades, he could be the end of all of us.” She snorted softly. “I was so in love I didn't care. I suppose I was lucky that he was in love, too. No one ever came for us in the night after he left.”

“You were fortunate,” he agreed.

“I've indulged your questions. Will you indulge some of mine?” she asked archly.

“Ask,” he said with a gesture.

“Oh, you conceded far too easily to that. You're just going to lie,” she said, curving a full smile.

“Not with you smiling at me like that,” he said. He tried to imagine her Julian's age and simply couldn't. She was too self-possessed and too polished. He may have been too hasty in coming to engage her in her lair.

That earned him a low laugh. “You really are too much. Is our doctor fortunate?”

The question took him off guard. “And you accused me of going for the jugular?” he asked, laughing.

“I learned a thing or two from my Gul,” she said smoothly. “Well, is he?”

“I'm not sure exactly what you mean by the question.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, you are. Are you really going to make me spell it out for you? Don't you consider that a little gauche?”

“I care for him,” he said, rolling his mug slowly back and forth between his palms. “I don't think that I would call that fortunate from any perspective. He disagrees, of course.”

“Did you really come all this way to show me a threaded needle?” she asked, leaning back and crossing her legs.

“I'm not sure,” he said, shaking his head. “I am sure I should be going, though.” He stood and offered her the mug. “Your hospitality and candor were most appreciated.”

She stood and took it from him. “I'm amazed,” she said, “a Cardassian with a sense of loyalty to his partner. I thought that having one on the side was a cultural requirement of your males, or is he your one on the side?”

“I'm not married,” he said without elaborating. “I'll see you tomorrow then?”

“You will,” she said. “Don't think I'm going to go easier on you because of our conversation.”

“As long as you don't go harder on me because I didn't accept your offer.”

She laughed at him as she guided him out the door. “You haven't yet accepted the offer, Mr. Garak. I'm a patient woman. I'll leave that door open for a little while, at least.”

He puffed his cheeks with his exhale after the door shut behind him. That conversation was anything but expected. He could no longer cling to the illusion that he hated her, and as he walked and reflected, he realized that on some level he had known he found her alluring from the start. He and Julian had never discussed anything like this. He had, perhaps shortsightedly, assumed he would have no reason for such a discussion to come up as the lone Cardassian on a Bajoran space station. Julian's attraction was never expected, and since then there had been no one else who showed the remotest interest. Was fidelity by default of any value whatsoever?

Stepping into the turbo lift, he realized something else. He did miss being with a woman. He had never had a strong preference for either sex, appreciating both for their varied appeals. Just as he reminded her of her long lost Gul, she reminded him in some ways of Palandine, with her fearlessness and self-possession, in the ways she challenged him, and in the way she boldly made her interest known without being, as she had said, gauche. He couldn't use the excuse that it wouldn't be professional, given that he was involved with his own doctor. Did he want to discuss this with Julian? He still hadn't decided that by lunchtime when the two of them were scheduled to meet in the Replimat.

“You're extremely distracted,” the doctor accused. “You've been acting strange all morning. I hope you didn't harass that poor woman in her quarters. She's very private.”

“Harass her?” Garak barked a laugh. “Do you think I could do anything to your nurse that she didn't want? She didn't have to let me in.”

“What did you want with her?”

“Aren't you always invoking doctor patient privilege when I question you about any number of people?” he asked.

“Technically, you're still my patient,” Julian said.

“Ah, but you are not in charge of my physical therapy,” he said, giving him a smile meant to end that line of questioning.

“Fine. We'll talk about something else, then. You must be very excited.”

“About what?” he asked cautiously.

The man smiled and shook his head. “Pretend you don't know if you like. I know better. About the Cardassian scientists who are coming to the station to help set up a subspace communications relay in the Gamma Quadrant.”

“Mm, yes,” he said without enthusiasm. It was news to him. “I can think of nothing more delightful than spending an evening listening to a scientist drone on and on about her work.”

Julian laughed. “I can't believe you,” he said. “You'll have the chance to socialize with some of your own people who aren't hear for political purposes. I would think you would jump at the chance.”

“Doctor, you apparently have some very odd notions about Cardassian social interactions,” he said. “First of all, you ought to know well enough by now that when it comes to my people, everything is political. Secondly,” he paused for emphasis, “my people's scientists aren't known for scintillating social skills. I think I'll pass.”

“Well, I for one intend to get to know them,” he said, smiling. “It's exciting to see the treaty in action.” A shadow passed across the surface of his expressive eyes, his smile losing some of its enthusiasm.

Garak reached across the table and squeezed his hand in a rare public display. “What happened isn't your fault.” He knew it preyed on the young man. He often saw it in his unguarded moments, as he saw it now. Losing Bareil took something away from Julian that he hadn't recovered.

“I know,” he said, waving it away and digging into his food.

Do you? Garak wondered. He decided he would keep his thoughts about the disturbing Nurse Decla to himself, at least for the time being. To his knowledge, neither he nor she would be going anywhere any time soon, nor did he wish to rush into anything. With Julian still hurting from losing his patient and his added worry about Garak's health, it wasn't a good time to give him yet another blow to his sense of security. He smiled his most disarming smile and changed the subject to lighter matters of little consequence. He could be accommodating when he wanted to be.

Current Mood: content
Current Music: Tau, Tempel der Stille

Kira

Monastery Grounds

Bajor

Kira had employed every technique she had at her disposal to try to find any traces of Garak or the missing vedeks to no avail. The other priests who had joined the search gave it their full attention and had done everything she asked of them. She had no complaints with their efforts. It was frustrating that the use of scanners was of only limited benefit. It made their job so much harder.

She didn't notice it at first, but the sky grew lighter until the first red rays of dawn spilled over the compound walls. It was no use. Wherever Garak was, it couldn't be on the grounds. They had covered every square centimeter to no avail. She called them all back to her, commended them for their efforts, and recommended that they regroup back at the housing complex. Looking at the worried, demoralized faces, she knew they were thinking the same thing that she was. If the funeral occurred without Garak in attendance, any hope of lasting peace they had with Cardassia would be dashed.

As soon as she was back inside, she hurried to find Odo, hoping for something better than what she had managed to find. She was surprised to find Julian there as well. As the two told her all that had happened in her absence, her bleak mood plunged even lower. She didn't blame Julian for contacting the Commander. Under the circumstances, she knew he had absolutely no choice in that, nor did she blame him for Sisko's putting two and two together and blaming her for not putting him in the loop sooner. Sisko's wrath was nothing to her fear of Cardassian involvement with and knowledge of the situation. Was it possible that Winn could have been telling the truth after all? Was she right to suspect Garak of sabotage? With Tain involved, she no longer knew what to think anymore. “Please, tell me that we at least have some good news,” she pleaded, shifting her gaze from brown eyes to blue ones.

“Maybe,” Odo said cautiously. “I'm just waiting for...ah, here it comes now.” He read the text transmission scrolling across his screen. “Alith and Bannen are actually siblings, Visnen Kelleth and Visnen Roban, both from the Kendra Valley. They're much older now, so it's hard to tell from these images,” he pointed a finger at the screen to show Kira and Bashir, crowded close over his shoulders.

“No,” Kira said. “I see the resemblance. They're the same people. The Kendra Valley, the site of the massacre. What does that have to do with anything? Could it be that we've been going about this all wrong from the start? Maybe this isn't about the treaty at all. Maybe it's just about revenge.” She was sorry she said it as soon as it came out of her mouth, glancing quickly at Julian and reading the fear naked in his eyes. She instinctively reached to squeeze his shoulder, trying to bolster him with an encouraging look.

“Could be,” Odo said, narrowing his eyes as he continued to read. “Both of their parents went missing over a decade ago under mysterious circumstances. Shortly after that, the siblings went missing, too. The case was never closed by the Kendra Valley authorities. I'm going to contact them, and let them know what we've found. Maybe they have more information from their investigation that can shed more light on this.”

“I'm going to ask Daran for a blueprint of the complex,” she said. “We went over every bit of ground outside, and I've checked all the surveillance feeds from the walls. No one entered or exited the monastery all night. If they had, the sensors would have picked it up, and they would have been recorded. The security here is very tight thanks to the Kai.”

Odo nodded. “Take the doctor with you,” he said distractedly, looking up the contact information for the Kendra Valley officers.

“Thanks a lot,” Julian said angrily.

Kira put a hand to his arm. “He's right,” she said. “This is his area of expertise, and you and I both will just be in the way if we hang around. I can definitely use your help and your eyes for this. Come on.”

She completely empathized with the doctor, despite the fact that the subject of his concern was Garak. She knew from painful experience that having to wait around and let others do things for an endangered loved one was excruciating and difficult. She was impressed with how well Julian was holding up and staying focused. There was more to him than she had initially thought when they met. He had gone from annoyance to respected and dear friend. As they walked together to find Daran, she prayed silently to the Prophets that she'd be able to give him a better outcome than he had managed for Bareil with his heroic efforts. At least one of them should be allowed some happiness.

When she explained to the vedek what she wanted, he seemed to understand immediately why. He hurried away from his office and returned from archives moments later with an armful of rolled blueprints. “We've been meaning to get these transferred over to data rods,” he said, “but honestly it hasn't been a large priority.” He cleared space on his desk and unrolled the first. “This is the oldest,” he said, “from when the monastery was first built. Of course, this isn't the original blueprint. Those were destroyed by the Cardassians decades ago. We've had to piece together what we could from fragments.”

“So this might not be accurate,” Kira said just to be clear.

“Right. The newest ones are, though. Do you want to start with them first?”

“No,” Julian said before she could. “Let's look at them in order, or we might miss something.”

Odo

Monastery Office

Bajor

Odo liked dealing with police better than military. It seemed that they were always more on the same wavelength. He found the detective that he had been put in contact with to be a straightforward, decent man who recognized the case immediately and became quite excited at the lead. The man didn't seem to mind a bit that he had been roused from bed early. He sipped a mug of something hot as he walked back and forth across the screen, in and out of Odo's view while gathering things from a box he kept at home.

“OK,” he said, resettling in his chair before his monitor. “Let's see.” He licked his thumb and flipped through several papers. “Yes, here we go. Hmm.” He glanced up at Odo. “You say those two vedeks of yours have gone missing along with a Cardassian?”

“Yes,” Odo replied. “We're afraid they may have kidnapped him, actually, not the other way around.”

“That's odd,” he said softly. “You see, their parents were suspected of being collaborators. Our agency was close to making an arrest on the case when they disappeared. The kids were too young to have had anything to do with it. We kept an eye on them more out of hope that we could track their parents; you know, in case they tried to contact them or anything like that.”

“Yes,” Odo said, nodding. He didn't want to rush the man's flow of concentration, but he hoped that he would make his point soon. The funeral was less than two hours away.

“When the kids disappeared, too, at first we thought the parents had come to get them after all, but we found some evidence to the contrary. Indications were that they might have been abducted by someone with a grudge against their parents. That list was so long, we didn't even know where to start, and the case eventually went cold. I dearly wish I could talk to those two right now.”

“You and I both, Detective,” Odo said with a sigh. “Could you send me the case files? Sometimes a fresh pair of eyes can find things that those too close to a case may have missed.”

“I'll be glad to,” the man said. “Do let me know when or if you find those two. We'll want the chance to question them, ourselves.”

“You have my word on that,” Odo promised.

Garak

Unknown Location

Bajor

Garak awoke with a strange taste in his mouth and a fuzzier head than usual upon awakening. He realized that he was not lying in bed. Instead, he was seated in a hard chair, bound at the wrists and ankles. Subtle testing of the bonds showed him that he was tied well. He'd not escape soon or easily. He heard two voices whispering off to his right, and if he craned his head, he could just make out two huddled shapes in the very dim light of what looked like a hewn rock chamber. He doubted that they could see him as well as he could see them. After another moment or so of watching them, he was sure they were Alith and the man whose name he had never gotten, the one who hadn't shown a negative reaction to his arrival. He decided that allowing them to plot together unhindered wasn't in his best interest, so he cleared his throat to announce to them that he was awake.

Alith drew closer; the other held back to the shadows, perhaps unaware that Garak could see him quite well. “You don't have to worry,” she told him in what she probably meant to be a soothing tone. Instead, she just sounded extremely nervous, something that wasn't remotely comforting to the tailor. Nervous people were dangerous people. “We aren't going to hurt you. All you have to do is stay calm and quiet until after the funeral. You'll then be released unharmed, and as long as you stay quiet about what happened, you'll stay that way.”

“You'll forgive me if I find you less than trustworthy,” Garak said sardonically. “I have...issues...about people who drug me and tie me to chairs. I can't imagine why.”

“Stop talking to him,” the man said. He sounded nervous, too.

Wonderful, Garak thought. These two aren't running this show, obviously, so who is?

“I don't want him scared,” she retorted. “You'd want somebody being kind to me in a situation like this, wouldn't you?”

“He doesn't believe you,” the other snapped. “You're just making things worse. Leave him alone, and get back over here. Don't you remember what they said? He's dangerous.”

“He's quite right,” he told the woman casually, letting the expression in his eyes bely his casual tone. He allowed her to see his uncertainty over the situation. “I don't believe you.”

She nibbled her lower lip. “I'm sorry,” she said, her hands fluttering at her sides like captive butterflies. “You'll see, though. When it's over, you'll be free, and you'll be fine.”

“You could say exactly the same if your intent was to kill me,” he countered. “Isn't that how you people see death? As a form of freedom?”

The man stepped closer, frustration in his posture. “Alith!” he said. “I mean it. Get away from him.”

“Of course,” Garak continued, ignoring the man and keeping his gaze locked to the woman's, “you could go a long way toward convincing me of your benign intent if you'd allow me to relieve myself. It's quite cold in here, and I seem to have been asleep for some time, if the numbness in my hands and feet is any indication.”

“Right,” the man barked a laugh. “We're going to untie you so you can snap our necks and make a run for it. I don't think so.”

“Then your intent is to torture me,” he said, still speaking casually and still speaking entirely to Alith. He knew from her look that he had her complete attention. She couldn't look away from him if she wanted to, and more importantly, she didn't want to.

“No!” she said vehemently. “We're not like that. Bannen, what if he does have to go?”

“Then he can piss himself for all I care,” the vedek spat.

“Don't say that!” she snapped, still looking at Garak. “He doesn't mean that,” she said, a pleading tone in her voice. “Things...you don't know what all of this has been like.”

The man closed the distance between them and struck her hard across the face. “That's enough!”

She cowered away from him, lifting a hand to her cheek, but there was defiance in her look as she straightened. “It has come to this? You'd strike your own flesh and blood?”

“You have a big mouth,” he said, but the tailor could hear the strain in his voice. That blow had cost him, too.

“I can't help it,” she said, her voice rising. “What am I supposed to do, enjoy this? This isn't who we are! Mother and Father would never approve of our becoming kidnappers for their sakes. This man has done nothing to us, and he's here on Bajor for a noble purpose. I hate this!”

“We're committed to this,” he said, sounding much less sure of himself. “We can't just back out now. This is their only chance to get off the planet, to start a better life. You were there. You heard what those men said, the same as I did, and you were just as ready to do this as I was. Don't try to deny it.”

“That was before,” she said, casting a quick glance back at Garak. He did his best to look as pathetic as possible without overdoing it. “Look at him! Do you know what he does on the station? He's a tailor, just a tailor, and he's afraid, Roban, afraid of us.”

Garak decided he had let that go on long enough. If either of them worked themselves up much more, they could become volatile and completely unpredictable. He cleared his throat again. “I hate to press a point in the midst of your discussion, but I truly do need to go,” he said, allowing urgency to emphasize the last three words. “If you could just untie my feet? One of you could unfasten my pants. What am I going to do with a chair strapped to my back and my hands bound to the chair?” he wheedled.

He watched their silent power struggle as the two of them glared at one another. Finally the man relented. He took something from his belt at his back and passed it over to the woman. Garak caught a glimpse of it, a Bajoran phaser. He saw the man shift the setting, but at that distance, he had no idea how it was set. “Keep that on him,” he said sternly. “If he even twitches funny, shoot him.”

“They want him unharmed,” she said uncertainly.

“That's why I have it set to stun,” he told her. He glared at Garak. “Even on stun, it's going to hurt a lot if you make her have to shoot you.”

“I have no interest in being shot,” he said. “Will you please stop talking already? My bladder is about to burst!”

Still glaring, the man came closer. He knelt in front of Garak and began working at the tight knots binding his ankles. Garak watched him mildly, his intent completely hooded. He felt nothing but contempt for the idiot's actually kneeling and thereby insuring that he wouldn't be able to react quickly to anything that the Cardassian decided to do to him. Once both of his feet were free, he launched an attack in the blink of an eye, kicking the Bajoran's chin hard enough to snap his head back. He braced his weight on his other foot and stood, whirling quickly. The chair bashed the kneeling man from the side, the legs smashing and showering both of them with wood splinters.

The woman screamed, her first shot going wild, her second completing the destruction of the chair. Garak rushed her with his head down and his hands still bound behind his back, but he wasn't quite fast enough. Her third shot caught him almost squarely in the chest. As he went down, on fire with agony, he realized that the man had lied. The phaser wasn't set on stun at all. There was a good chance that he was about to die.

Julian

Vedek Daran's Office

Bajor

The three gathered around the blueprints each exhibited their frustration in different ways, with Julian running a hand down his face, Major Kira her fingers through her hair, and Vedek Daran tugging at his earring. They had been over each of the renderings several times apiece, feeling as though they must be missing something. Kira said, “This is ridiculous!” and stormed from the room.

Angry at her outburst and that she'd just give up, Julian briefly turned away from the table to look out the oval office window. Sunlight streamed inward. The funeral would start in an hour. As he looked out over one of the gardens, he heard someone enter the office. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that the Major had simply gone to fetch Odo. He felt a bit guilty for his uncharitable thoughts and returned to the table.

The three humanoids watched the changeling systematically go over each blueprint with a thorough eye. Nodding slightly to himself, he looked up from the table. “Let's go back to the room,” he said. “We have to have missed something.”

They gave the vedek the courtesy of leading the way, but Julian wanted to run ahead. He had an indescribable mixture of emotions running through him, not the least of which was guilt. It was his idea to bring Garak there. In his own way, the tailor had tried to warn him. Major Kira had, too. He naively believed that Odo would be enough to protect the Cardassian from harm without factoring his regeneration cycle into the mix. He should have insisted on staying in that room, himself.

When they reached the room, he resisted the impulse to lift one of the folded tunics from the bag and hold it close. He did allow himself to touch the bed, the center of the soft mattress still indented from where it had held his lover's weight. Odo paced the small confines of the room like a panther circling in its cage, working himself up in his frustration. “Where is it?” he said to himself. “Where is it? I'm missing something. Where?!”

“He couldn't have gone through the tikka hole,” Major Kira said, echoing Odo's frustration.

Odo stopped cold and shot an intense look in her direction. “What did you just say?” he asked.

“What?” she said, blinking. “Oh, it was idiotic! I said he couldn't have gone through the tikka hole.” She pointed at the small, unevenly gnawed hole at the base of the wall.

In an instant, Odo shifted to liquid form and rushed through the hole. Julian watched in fascination. He didn't often have the chance to see the changeling in action, and even though he was worried sick about Garak, it still had the ability to fill him with wonder. The three waited, looking at one another with mingled anticipation and dismay. Suddenly, they heard a rumbling sound, and the entire section of the wall with the hole at the base dragged inward, revealing a smooth, dark opening. Vedek Daran looked completely thunderstruck. “I...” he said, staring into the dark passage beyond, “I had no idea this was here.”

Odo stepped from deep shadow. “I'm betting almost no one did except our kidnappers,” he said. “We're going to need some lights. The passage slopes steeply downward about two meters in, and I can't see a thing.”

Daran ran from the room, and Julian and Kira crowded the opening. The passage was ingenious in its design. There were so many cracks in the old plaster of the storage room wall that the cracks that outlined the irregularly shaped hidden door were indistinguishable from the others. “I wonder how long this has been here,” Julian said, itching to hurry while knowing it would be pure folly to rush off into pitch blackness.

“It's impossible to say,” Kira said. “It could have been created during the occupation, or even before. It's no wonder it didn't show up on any of the blueprints. If it goes down instead of just inward, there could be an entire subterranean level that wouldn't have shown up on the maps. It may have been left out on purpose, in case the vedeks or the Kai needed an escape route.”

Odo ran his hands along the inside of the wall door, bending and making a small, satisfied exclamation. “Found you,” he said. As he straightened, he showed them a tiny device in the palm of his hand. “I was wondering how they timed the abduction to my regeneration cycle. We were being watched through the 'tikka hole' with this.”

“Let me see that,” Kira said, holding out her hand. She turned it over and held it so that Julian could see it, too. “This isn't Bajoran tech,” she said.

“No,” Julian agreed with a sinking feeling. “It looks very Cardassian. May I?” Nodding, she tipped her palm and dropped the tiny device into his. He held it up to the dim artificial light of the storeroom and squinted at it. It was just too dim to make out much detail. “We should be careful,” he said. “It's possible we're being watched through this right now.”

“There's a cheerful thought,” Odo grunted.

Vedek Daran returned out of breath with an armful of palm lights. “Sorry it took so long,” he panted. “We keep these all the way on the other side of the complex.”

“That's OK,” Kira said, taking one and tossing it to Julian, another to Odo, and keeping one for herself. Drawing her phaser, she said, “I'm taking point. Odo, I want you at my back. Julian, you bring up the rear with Daran.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to protest this arrangement. He wanted to go first, but she shot him a complex look, and he suddenly understood. She didn't fully trust Daran, and she wanted him to watch the vedek. It made sense. He was too emotionally close to all of this to take the lead. He might make an emotional mistake. Focusing instead on watching another gave him enough to do that he wouldn't be a liability to the rest of them. Yet again he found his respect for the former resistance fighter increase. She knew what she was doing, and she did it well.

Drawing his phaser and setting it to heavy stun, he indicated that Daran should go ahead of him. The Bajoran did so willingly, the only one of them unarmed, at least as far as Julian could tell. He wanted to trust the man who had been so helpful to them since this whole mess started. He truly did. Perhaps he had spent enough time around Garak to realize that just because one wanted to trust someone, it wasn't a good enough reason. He watched the man closely from the back, in particular his hands. The group of four descended a steep slope with a low ceiling cut directly into bedrock. Julian wondered how far down it went and dreaded what they might find at the bottom.

Garak

Unknown Location

Bajor

Try as he might, Garak could barely move. He groaned as he twisted himself and tried to flinch away from Alith when she approached him. Through swimming vision, he saw her fear contorted face. This is it, he thought bitterly, angry at the idea of being taken out by such idiots. Hadn't Enabran always said untrained enemies could be the most dangerous of all because they were so unpredictable? He knew that had he been in this same situation just ten years before, he would've been fast enough to take out the woman, too. His age had betrayed him.

“I don't understand,” she said, kneeling beside him and touching his chest.

He cried out sharply in agony. He couldn't help it. There were few things in the known universe more painful than a direct phaser blast that somehow didn't quite manage to kill.

She jerked her hand back. “I'm sorry!” she said. “I...why would he lie to me?” She lifted the weapon to look at it. “I've never handled one of these before. There's no way it was set to stun! He wanted me to kill you, but why?”

He shook his head, that small bit of movement costing him. “Don't...know,” he gasped. If he rolled his eyes upward, he could barely see the prone form of the male vedek on the floor. He wasn't moving. He couldn't see if he was still breathing or not. “Help me,” he said, looking back at her.

She nodded and tucked the weapon into her belt at her back. “I will,” she said. “I...it's going to hurt.”

He nodded, too. He knew that. She knelt behind him and worked at the knots binding his hands. When the pressure released, he felt very slight relief. He directed his focus inward, calming his erratic breathing, slowing his racing heart. He had never been as good at this as his superiors wanted him to be, one reason for the misguided implantation of the wire, but now he knew his life depended on it. If he couldn't bring his body under control before he sank fully into shock, he would be dead before she managed to drag him ten meters.

She first tried to lift him under his arms. “Nnnoooo!” he keened, thrashing involuntarily. She immediately released him and jumped back. Panting heavily, he gasped, “Feet.”

He could feel her hands trembling when they cupped under his heels. She had a strong grip for her size, though, and as she began to drag him over the floor, he could tell that she was capable. He fought to hang onto consciousness, fearing that if he slipped into darkness, it would be the last thing he ever did. His pajama top rode up and bunched under his shoulder blades. Rough stone scraped his scales the wrong way. He could feel some of them tearing and coming loose. It was like the difference between being bitten by insects and torn apart by hunting hounds, the searing agony of his chest and torso preventing him from registering the other pain as anything more than pressure and odd discomfort.

She dragged him from the small chamber, and he could feel the ground beginning to slope upward. Soon, she was out of breath. He felt her set his heels down. “I'm sorry,” she panted. “Feel like I'm going to pass out.”

“Rest...but not long,” he told her, his voice pain constricted and weak.

To her credit, she did as he asked. He knew he was heavy. Dragging dead weight was never easy. Dragging dead weight up a slope must've been worse. She didn't waste her breath on talking to him, but she did periodically check to make sure he was still breathing with each brief rest period. He had no idea where they were or how far away they were from help, but as they made steady progress upward, he decided that maybe he would survive this after all. Giving up just wasn't in his nature.

Julian

Unknown Passage

Bajor

The air grew colder and wetter. The doctor was surprised at how far down the passage seemed to delve with no sign of hitting bottom. He heard Kira's voice ahead, but thanks to the low ceiling he couldn't see her as well as he would've liked. “I've got something,” she said back to them, and then her voice grew sharper. “Stop right there! Put your hands where I can see them. Hands where I can see them now!”

“Don't shoot!” came a voice he recognized. Alith! He thought. “I've got a phaser in my belt at my back. I'm not reaching for it. He needs help! He was shot, and please, my brother is back there. I don't know if he's alive or not.”

“Doctor,” Odo said, turning, “get up here.”

He shoved past the vedek and the Constable, his heart racing. As soon as he saw Garak prone in the passage and how pale he was, he felt himself go cold. “Garak!” He flung himself to his knees and carefully unbuttoned the bunched pajama top. The damage was extensive. Garak's eyes rolled, eventually focusing. He was too weak to say a word, but the look of relief in his eyes almost brought Julian to tears.

Julian tried to remotely activate the transporter of the Mekong. Nothing happened. “Damn! The natural radiation levels must be preventing me from making contact. We've got to get up to the surface. He's dying!”

Kira emerged from darkness with Alith, the two carrying an unconscious Bajoran between them. “He is, too,” Kira said grimly of the battered man.

Odo flowed into the form of a stretcher beneath Garak. “You and the vedek can carry him this way,” he told Julian. Daran nodded and grabbed one end. On Julian's signal they lifted as smoothly as they could. Garak made a sound the likes of which the doctor had never heard from him before. It wrung his heart knowing he was in that much pain.

As soon as they emerged from the passage, he set his end of the Odo stretcher down and triggered his comm badge. “Doctor Bashir to the Mekong. Six to beam up, directly to the infirmary. Energize.”

The storeroom disappeared, and the small sick bay of the runabout came into view around them. Now in his element, Julian barked orders to every able bodied person he had available to him, getting both Garak and the fallen vedek onto biobeds and working to get them stabilized. He didn't care about the funeral anymore. All he wanted was to make sure he wasn't going to lose either man. He injected Garak with a heavy dosage of analgesic, monitoring to make certain he didn't have a bad reaction.

Alith stood huddled off to the side under the watchful eye of Odo. She watched the progress with both men with wide eyed worry. As angry as he was with her, Julian found himself feeling a bit sorry for her, too. She looked like nothing more than a scared kid in way over her head.

Julian adjusted the settings on the biobed to Garak's physiological specifications. The Cardassian reached up and grasped his wrist in a stronger grip than he would have thought possible for his condition. “The funeral,” he rasped. Kira glanced over at both of them, startled.

“Absolutely not,” Julian said. “You took a direct phaser blast to the chest, set to kill. It's only by some miracle I can't even explain that you're not dead.”

“Listen to me,” Garak hissed. “If I'm not there, my injuries are the least of your worries.” He glanced over at Kira as though seeking her support.

“Garak,” she said, approaching the bed, “you have to listen to Julian.”

Anger simmered in the blue gaze. “Bareil did more in worse shape. Get me mobile. I know you can, and bring me my clothes.”

He was about to protest again when Odo cut in unexpectedly. “He's right,” he said. “There's more at stake here than just him. If he wants to do this and believes that he can, you need to let him.”

“I agree,” Vedek Daran spoke up. “I'd never willingly risk a man's life to no real end, but he's expected there. If he doesn't show, it could have wide ramifications for the way our people view the treaty and the way the Cardassians view us. We have a decent medical ward in the monastery. We can handle Vedek Bannen now that he's stabilized, and we can detain Vedek Alith.”

“The last time I allowed a patient to dictate his treatment, I lost him,” Julian said. He looked hard at Garak, pleading with his gaze, Don't make me do this.

Garak's expression was implacable. “This isn't last time,” he said evenly, his voice starting to slur from the pain medication. “As a citizen of the Cardassian Union, I demand that you release me to my own recognizance until such time as I say otherwise. You have no right to treat me against my will.”

Kira

Monastery of the Kai

Bajor

The four of them, she, Odo, Julian, and Garak, beamed directly into the funeral crowd where they had seats reserved with just minutes to spare. It caused quite the stir, but the assembled crowd quickly settled again at a gesture from the Kai. With Odo to her left, Garak to her right, and Julian to Garak's right, she furtively glanced about, her heart swelling with pride and love as she saw just how many people were in attendance. Although she knew it to be a fanciful thought, it seemed as though half of Bajor had turned out to pay their final respects to the beloved vedek. His funeral arch was a thing of beauty, lovingly crafted by his brothers and sisters of his order. The sky, clear that morning, was now overcast and threatening rain, but it was the warm season. She wasn't worried.

She couldn't stop glancing at Garak from the corners of her eyes, his posture stiff, his bearing regal. If one didn't look directly into his eyes and see how unnaturally wide his pupils were, one would never guess that he was medicated to the hilt and holding onto himself by a thread. She could hardly believe that he had fought so hard to be there, and what troubled her about it the most was that she couldn't think of a single selfish reason for it that made any kind of sense at all. Maybe Antos was right to hope, she thought with a small shiver. It wasn't comfortable having to respect a man she knew at gut level she couldn't trust. Hadn't Tekeny Ghemor said as much? What if he was wrong?

She frowned slightly and looked straight ahead. The gongs sounded, their sonorous voices so deep and resonant that she felt her body vibrating from them. Garak made a very small, constricted noise, and she glanced at him in concern. His fists were balled tightly over his thighs. Hesitantly, she slipped a hand over the fist closest to her and leaned in to whisper, “Squeeze my hand instead. It helps.”

She felt the large hand turning against her palm, the texture as rough as she recalled from other, unwelcome touches from other Cardassians long ago. She thrust those thoughts away and winced slightly as his fingers forced hers together painfully. He quickly shifted his hold, and she relaxed again, as much as she could under the circumstances. She smiled slightly when she saw Julian take his other hand. On impulse, she reached for Odo. It felt right, the four of them from the station joined like this and sharing this moment.

Kai Winn addressed the crowd, the system set up masterfully so that it sounded as though she spoke to each of them personally. As much as Kira despised the woman, she appreciated that she at least sounded sincere. The things she said of Bareil were all true. Kira felt her tears begin to flow freely, all the grief she had held bottled inside for two days coming out and finally having its way with her. She was unashamed as she wept for the man she had loved, still loved. Sorrow flowed through her powerfully, cleansing her and completing the cycle of love and loss that almost every sentient being experienced at some point or another in life.

She joined her voice with the others in the public death chant. After a few rounds of it, she heard Odo's voice added to hers. She squeezed his hand with gratitude, and then she heard Julian. Garak didn't join, a fact for which she was strangely grateful, but his hold tightened on her hand and she knew on an instinctive level that it was for her pain and not for his. That was too much to process in the moment, something she set aside and would examine at a time when she could figure out how to handle it and where to put it. The road she started down thanks to Amin Marritza and had continued on with Tekeny Ghemor took yet another unexpected turn. She briefly wondered where it would end.

A little over halfway through the ceremony, the rain began to fall. It plastered hair and clothing, mingled with the tears of the crowd, and washed everything in its wake clean and fresh. The damp scent rising from the rich soil beneath their feet renewed her spirit. Music swelled at the end of the ceremony, not somber and sorrowful, but rousing and inspiring. She felt so full of love and gratitude for the wonderful man who had all too briefly touched her life that she hardly knew what to do with herself. Sunlight mingled with rain through a break in the clouds, and the Bajoran officer smiled through her tears.

Back on the Mekong a few hours later, Odo and Julian piloted the runabout toward Deep Space Nine. Kira sat beside Garak's biobed, the Cardassian deep in the clutches of a drugged sleep. He had collapsed as soon as they beamed away from the feast that followed the funeral. Only then had it hit her exactly how much he had risked to be there and that were he even slightly less tough, he wouldn't have survived the experience.

Asleep, he was as much cypher to her as when he was awake. She wondered how it was that someone as open and straightforward as Julian had come to love him with his sly mannerisms, cutting wit, and secretive agendas. He embodied so much of what she loathed about Cardassians, and yet, she couldn't discount his actions of the day as a fluke or a self-serving game. There was nothing self-serving about almost dying just to attend a funeral. How can I like you when I can't trust you? She wondered, reaching to adjust a wrinkle in his blanket. She decided that she didn't have to decide that right in that moment. It was enough and more than she had ever expected of herself that she could even entertain the thought.

Julian

The Infirmary

Deep Space Nine

It had been a tense three days since they had returned from Bajor, Garak's condition fluctuating dangerously several times before finally truly stabilizing. He wasn't sure that the tailor didn't have permanent nerve damage. It was too soon to tell. The doctor felt wrung out and stretched thin, barely able to sleep, yet knowing that if he didn't, he couldn't effectively treat his lover. It was different when the person on the bed was someone that he cared about deeply. Had there been anyone else aboard the station that he felt he could trust with the complicated treatments, he would have likely allowed it.

The small private room incongruously filled with flowers, the first bouquet from Major Kira. When she had brought it for the brief visit he allowed, she had shrugged uncomfortably and set the vase on the bedside table almost as though she thought it would bite her. “The room just looks so empty,” she had said by way of explanation. Dax had followed suit next, then one of Garak's Bajoran customers and his family, even Rom. Julian couldn't wait until Garak was properly awake to see them. He hoped that he was there for the reaction.

Late that night, just as he was about to head back to his quarters to snatch a bit of sleep, the comm chimed. When he answered it, he was startled all over again by the sight of Enabran Tain, smiling benevolently and drinking something from fluted stemware. “Hello, Doctor,” the agent said. “I wanted to congratulate you on finding what you misplaced and returning it to its proper location. I trust you understand now why I like to keep it there?”

“Yes,” he said, wondering what subtext there might be to the remark. Did Tain actually care for Garak, or was it just that he wanted to be the one in control of whether he lived or died? He believed it was something he might never know.

“I'm glad to hear that,” he said. “It's a very healthy attitude. In light of our newfound sense of cooperation, I'd like to ask you a personal favor, Doctor Bashir, a small thing, really.”

“What is it?” he asked cautiously.

Tain's smile deepened. “Buy Garak an Edosian orchid, and tell him it's from me.”

He considered, his eyes narrowed. It couldn't be as straightforward as it sounded. It likely wasn't even a benign gesture. However, Enabran Tain wasn't the sort of man one lightly refused. Worried that he was being drawn into a hurtful game, he reluctantly agreed. “Very well. May I ask why?” he ventured.

Tain chuckled. “Old time's sake,” he said and abruptly cut the transmission. The doctor breathed a small sigh of relief and placed the order for the orchid. He figured that Tain had his way of knowing if he didn't and might also have his way of making him pay for breaking the agreement.

Garak

The Infirmary

His life had reduced to feverish dreams and hallucinations for days, with the tailor never knowing if what he was experiencing was real and in the present moment, a scene from his past haunting the present, or a product of his own vivid imagination. He found himself lying in a hospital bed and staring at a very familiar sight, an Edosian orchid of sublime beauty and perfection, less than two feet away. “Father?” he murmured.

A pair of pale blue eyes in an indistinct face hovered closer and vied for his focus. “No,” whoever it was said. “It's me, Odo.”

He felt the last traces of confusion drop away in gossamer strands, releasing his mind. “Where did that flower come from?” he asked tightly, now realizing he was surrounded by all sorts of flowers on all sides. What could it possibly mean?

Odo stood and reached for its tag. “Enabran Tain,” he said, sounding surprised.

Garak's eyes widened. “Get it out of here, Odo,” he said. “Get it out of here right now and incinerate it. Make sure no one smells it. Has anyone smelled it?” he asked, panic rising in his breast.

“I don't think so. Calm down, Garak. I'm doing as you asked,” the changeling assured him and disappeared through the doorway.

When he returned, Garak asked, “Where is Julian?”

“He went to bed about an hour ago,” Odo replied. “I told him I'd watch over you for a while. What has you so worked up?”

The Cardassian shook his head. “Make sure he's all right,” he insisted.

Frowning, Odo did so, the computer informing them that Julian was asleep in his quarters, his vital signs normal. Pulling his chair closer to the bedside, Odo regarded Garak evenly. “You have no intention of telling me what that was about, do you?” he asked.

Garak shook his head, already bone weary just from that bit of excitement. “Tell me what I've missed,” he said, closing his eyes. His head felt as though it weighed at least twenty pounds more than it should, and periodic jolts of pain shot through his chest as though his nerves were misfiring.

“I've been instructed not to tire you,” Odo replied, “but if you're anything like I am, wondering will just tire you more. Your abductors were the children of collaborators. The Bajoran authorities haven't been able to find who arranged for them to take you, but their parents were found hiding in a cave formation less than twenty kilometers from the Monastery of the Kai.” He frowned, a note of distaste creeping into his voice. “Kai Winn claimed credit for their very public arrest. The news even overshadowed coverage of Vedek Bareil's funeral.” Garak cracked one eye open, and the two exchanged knowing looks. “There was some scant evidence of Cardassian involvement, a spying device in that tikka hole in our quarters. I...kept that to myself,” Odo confessed, sounding uncomfortable.

“Wise of you, Constable,” Garak murmured. He stayed quiet after that for a long time, almost drifting back to sleep but fighting it for just a bit longer. “Odo,” he said, “how long? How long do you think this treaty will last?”

“I'm not known for my optimism, Garak,” he answered.

Garak snorted softly and winced. Laughing hurt. “I just wonder...if what I did was for nothing in the long run.”

“No,” the changeling said with such conviction it surprised the tailor.

“No?” he rasped, his voice a ghost of what it should have been.

He felt Odo's hand covering his through his thick blanket. “Garak,” he said earnestly, “kindness is never wasted.” Before the Cardassian could think of an appropriate retort, Odo stood and began to circle the room, stopping at each bouquet and reading aloud from the cards. “'Thank you, and get well soon. Nerys.' 'I know you'll make a speedy recovery. Dax.' 'Nala wants to know when she can show off her new dress for you. Konil.' 'I miss our lunches. Rom.' 'I love you more than words can say. Julian...'”

At some point during the litany he drifted to sleep. He hardly knew what to do with the emotions rising in him at each new revelation. Some of them he couldn't even name. What he did know, possibly for the first time since his exile, was that he was no longer as alone as he thought himself to be. He slept easier than he had in years.

The End

Julian

Monastery Dining Hall

Bajor

The meal was a simple one, but it made up for lack of variety, just hasperat and mapa bread, with quantity and quality. Serving dishes and pitchers of water and tea lined the centers of the two long dining tables with the diners expected to help themselves. Odo was back from wherever he had been, and Garak had changed clothes for some reason. He didn't give it too much thought, because he was starving by the time they got around to eating. He had to admit that maybe Garak was onto something about religion when prayers dragged on and on with all that delicious food tantalizingly in reach and smelling delectable.

He expected the dinner conversation to be subdued and somber. He couldn't have been further from the truth. The vedeks, ranjens, and prylars of Bareil's order conversed with one another and the guests in their midst freely. Bareil became the topic of conversation many times in the night. Apparently, he could be something of a prankster and was a terrible cook. “Prophets!” a raucous young man who was seated two stools down from Julian said as he wiped his eyes from the spicy hasperat, “Do you remember the time he tried to substitute the pickling brine for the hasperat when the kitchen ran out?”

“I told him my mother could do a better job,” somebody else interjected. He paused a beat. “He had my mother's cooking. He knew what an insult that was!” Laughter rang all round.

“Your mother's cooking is the insult!” the first speaker said, followed by more laughter and general agreement from all quarters.

Glancing at Kira, he saw her smiling and laughing along with the rest of them, her large, dark eyes shining. She seemed to be taking all of these little tidbits of information in, small slices of a life well lived, and holding them close. There were times in the past when Julian had found himself in awe of the Bajoran spirit and their ability to put a good face on the worst of circumstances. He felt it all over again, that in the midst of their pain, all of these people who loved Bareil Antos, as a brother, a friend, or a lover, found the laughter and the moments to celebrate rather than a reason to mourn.

Glancing to his right a few seats down, he could just see Odo with his habitual expression of keen observation. He noticed the changeling politely engaged anyone who addressed him, but he was obviously out of his element in all of the unbridled cheer. Garak seemed to have disappeared entirely. He looked around sharply with a start, only to find the man just one vedek away from him to his left. How had he missed that the first time? He made eye contact with the Cardassian over the short woman's head and read faint amusement there. Had he done something amusing? He didn't think so; however, he felt certain the amusement was directed at him and not at what was happening around them. He doubted that the tailor would tell him what it was if he asked, so instead he gave him a warm smile, continued his tongue punishing meal, and tuned back in to the conversation.

“If you want hasperat that'll strip your tongue, let this one in the kitchen,” Daran said, pointing at the top of Kira's head from his seat beside her.

The Major smiled modestly and put a hand up. “Now, Daran, don't go spreading tales,” she said. “I'm useless with anything domestic.”

“Bah! Nonsense!” He looked around at the others nearby and put a hand to his chest. “Never in my life had better than the night we managed to get her in the kitchen to do something besides filch pinches of bread dough.”

She laughed and swatted his arm. “Well, I felt guilty,” she said, “after I ruined the arboretum pathway like an Andorian bull in a tea shop! I had to do something useful.”

“Who'd have thought that anyone could break rocks with their bare hands?” Daran asked, laughing.

“Don't forget Antos' poor foot,” she added.

He wished that he had something to add. Unfortunately, most of his interactions with the vedek came after the man was in his infirmary fighting for his life. They weren't the sort of anecdotes that would fit with the flow of the conversation. When the meal ended, they all lingered for just a while to give those with kitchen duty time to clear off all the plates and cups. Then it was time for them to take their evening prayers and for the guests to get settled in for the night.

Julian was glad to see how many members of the small community came to offer Kira hugs and how receptive she was to their outpouring of affection. Seeing her relaxed among her own people like that, he realized that in so many ways he didn't know her at all. He hardly recognized this smiling, gracious woman who was so quick to laugh and joke. Glancing at Garak, he had the same thought of him. How would Garak be in a group of Cardassians around whom he was comfortable? It pained him to think that he may never have the chance to find out.

As much as he wanted to be able to hug and kiss the man good-night, he refrained. He didn't want to push anything in Kira's face, and he definitely didn't feel comfortable asking Odo to give them a moment of privacy. He said his good-nights cheerfully, hugged Kira because she was receptive to it and in a decent mood, and retreated to his room.

He liked the room a lot. The walls were covered with a warm, honey toned stucco. The furnishings were all obviously hand made and crafted very well, and best of all was the bed, a nice, soft bed piled with woven blankets in rich earth tones. His oval window during the day had shown him a view over the arboretum. Now it was a black circle in the wall that reflected the room and his own face back to him when he stood before it. When he listened hard, he could hear the sounds of night insects and some other sorts of fauna sawing, whistling, and croaking into the night air. That was one thing he missed living on a space station.

Shaking his head at his fanciful thoughts, he grabbed his tooth cleaner and headed toward the communal bath. He found Odo standing in the corridor just outside the door leading inside. “What are you doing?” he asked, startled.

“Standing guard for Garak,” the changeling said. “He wanted warning before anyone walked in on him.”

Thinking of how private his lover was, Julian inwardly winced. The communal bathing arrangement had to be all but torture for the Cardassian. “That's very kind of you, Odo,” he said.

“I understand the desire for privacy, Doctor,” Odo replied. He suddenly smiled very slightly. “I believe in your case, he may make an exception.”

Julian felt his cheeks color. If anyone managed to surprise him more with his observational skills than Garak, it had to be Odo. “Thank you, Constable,” he said, offering him a genuine smile and passing into the room beyond.

Garak turned from his ablutions at one of the sinks and relaxed when he saw who it was. “I don't like to complain,” he said, amusing Julian, for complaining had never seemed to be a difficulty of the tailor's, “but this bathing arrangement is downright primitive. Do you realize they don't even separate male from female?” He sounded thoroughly taken aback.

“The vedeks share everything equally here,” Julian said, stepping over to him and sneaking a quick kiss to his cheek. “I think it's very nice, actually, that they let nothing stand in the way of their sense of community and common goals.”

Garak blotted his face dry with his towel and regarded Julian via their shared reflection in the large mirror before them. “Much the same could be said of us Cardassians,” he said with a lilt to his voice the doctor had come to recognize as enjoyment in scoring a point on him, “a sense of community and common goals, and we have achieved great things in a relatively short amount of time...without ever sharing our bathrooms with one another. It's refreshing to see someone from Starfleet, with their unhealthy obsession with individuality, recognize the value in the collective.”

With his lips twitching, Julian took an end of Garak's towel and draped it around his neck, pulling him nose to nose with him. “My dearest tailor,” he purred, “nobody likes a know-it-all.” He was rewarded with one of the sounds he liked best in the world and didn't hear nearly often enough, Garak's free, openly amused laughter. The tailor generously waited for him to finish cleaning his teeth and washing his face so that they could share a very brief, yet very intimate kiss. “Sleep well,” Julian told him, letting him precede him from the bathroom. For his part, he planned to take full advantage of the chance to sleep in a soft, comfortable bed for a change.

He awakened to knocking at his door while his window showed the blue black of deep night. His disorientation and sleepiness told him it was nowhere near time for him to get up. There was a strangely furtive and urgent quality to that knocking. He stumbled from the bed, trailing a blanket half over his shoulders, and threw back his small bolt. Kira almost bowled him over barging into the room followed closely on her heels by Odo. “We have a problem,” she said. “Garak is missing.”

Odo

Julian's Monastery Quarters

Bajor

It was one of the few things he truly loathed about his own nature, the limitation that required him to return to his liquid state every sixteen hours. No matter what his intentions, he never managed to retain any sense of awareness whatsoever when in that state. He likened it to what the solids called sleep, except for the fact that he couldn't be awakened or brought out of it until the time was up. He had watched Garak bolt the door from the inside when the two of them retired to their shared quarters, turned out the light, and heard the Cardassian's breathing slow and even out into the pattern he recognized as asleep. When it came time for him to pour into his bucket, he hadn't worried overly much that anything would happen, but when he had come out of the cycle, Garak was gone, his bed cold, and the bolt on the door thrown open.

He explained all of this succinctly to the doctor, having already told Nerys. He didn't like the wide, worried look in the man's open face, liked even less that something had happened on his watch to cause it. He liked this human doctor, more than he liked most of the other Fleeters, and in his own way, he liked Garak, too. “I see no choice but to awaken the vedeks and begin a search of the buildings and grounds,” he said.

“Agreed,” Kira said, raking a hand impatiently back through her short hair. “Did he say anything odd to you, Odo, give any sort of indication that he intended to walk around at night?”

“No,” he said. “I briefly left the room so that he could dress for bed. When I returned, he latched the door, climbed under the covers, and asked me to turn out the light. He fell asleep very quickly.”

“How quickly?” the doctor interjected.

“Within five minutes,” the changeling said. “Why?”

Bashir frowned slightly. “That's not like him,” he said, “especially in a strange place. Even when he's perfectly comfortable with where he is, it usually takes him at least a half hour.”

“Maybe he had a stressful day,” Kira offered. “Being around all of us like this can't be easy for him.”

“No,” the doctor said. “I mean, yes, I'm sure this is taxing for him, but if anything, that would make him less likely to be able to sleep, not more. Constable, did he seem to you as though he were in pain? Any signs of stress or a headache?”

Odo thought back to how Garak looked before bed. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “Nothing like that. In fact he looked very relaxed in the bed.”

“He didn't mention that the bed was too soft?” Bashir pressed.

“No,” Odo said, starting to feel impatient. “Doctor, if you're getting at something, please make your point.”

“Well, I'm not sure, but it sounds like there's a possibility he was drugged,” he said, frowning.

“I'll go awaken Daran,” Kira said grimly. “I am not looking forward to this conversation. Odo, why don't you and Julian go back to the room and have another look, see if there's anything you might have missed,” she suggested.

He didn't feel confident that the doctor's presence would make much of a difference in what he could observe, but he kept the remark to himself. There was no sense in being insulting. Nodding, he waited for Bashir to dress in his uniform, and the two of them hurried down the dimly lit corridor toward the foyer. When they reached it, he held a hand up for the doctor to wait. On his first passage through here after the realization that Garak was gone, he had been intent on nothing more than awakening Nerys and informing her of the problem. Now he wanted a closer look. He peered at the floor, walking slowly all around the area of the front door and then backtracking toward the smaller passage that led to the storeroom.

“What are we looking for?” Bashir asked, watching him anxiously.

“I don't know yet,” Odo said, “anything out of place or out of the ordinary, any sign that Garak may have come this way. Check the doors, Doctor; see if they're still locked.” He figured that if he gave the man something to do, he'd be more likely to stay out of his way.

“They are,” the doctor said, tugging sharply on each.

Odo nodded, figuring as much. He looked at all the tracks in the dust of the passage. Unfortunately, they had passed through there several times since their arrival. Any tracks he saw that looked like they could have come from Garak could have come at any time during that time frame. Bashir crowded closer to him than he liked. Again, he held his tongue. If he snapped at him, it would just agitate him and keep him from being as useful as he might be otherwise.

They reached the room together. Odo had the doctor hang back while he took one final thorough look then let him inside. The bed showed no signs of a struggle, the covers thrown back as one would expect from someone simply getting up in the night. Nothing else had been disturbed or removed from the room as far as he could tell. He watched the doctor take down Garak's bag and begin going through it.

“This is odd,” Bashir said. “All of his clothes are in here, except for his pajamas and a belt I saw him wearing earlier.”

“Mm,” Odo said, surprised that he had noticed. Maybe Garak hadn't just been being difficult when he insisted that Odo match his boots. His respect for both men notched up a tad. So few solids had any real appreciation for detail. “The belt isn't missing,” he told the doctor. “I was the belt. He was wearing pajamas when he went to bed.”

Bashir gave a start. “You were the—well, never mind. That makes sense. What doesn't make sense to me at all is that Garak would go wandering around the monastery in the middle of the night in nothing more than his pajamas. You saw how he was about the bathroom. He would never willingly allow a bunch of Bajorans to see him in such a state of undress.”

Odo opened his mouth to say more, but Major Kira and Daran interrupted him, striding swiftly into the room. “I've called an assembly in the meeting hall,” Daran informed them without preamble. “I've called everyone to be there with the exception of the two staffing the temple to watch over Vedek Bareil's body. They simply cannot be called away, but if you need them questioned, I can do that for you.”

“I'm going to need access to the kitchen and the dinner dishes,” Doctor Bashir said. “I'm afraid that Garak may have been drugged.”

“Drugged how?” Kira asked. “We all ate and drank the same things. If Garak was drugged, wouldn't that mean that all of us were?”

“Not necessarily, Major,” Odo said. “There are ways.” He turned his attention to Daran. “With your permission, I'd like access to all of the personnel files you have on everyone here.”

“What are you looking for?” the vedek asked warily.

“I'll know it when I see it,” the changeling told him with an expectant look.

“Well,” the man said reluctantly, “all right. I wouldn't usually do this, but the last thing we need is an incident with the Cardassian Union so shortly after the signing of the treaty.” All four of them looked at one another, and in an instant, they knew they had hit upon a very likely motive.

Kira made a soft, impatient sound. “As much as I hate to have to do it, I should probably go inform the Kai personally. I don't want this getting to her some other way.” She looked at the other three sharply. “I don't need to tell you how damaging this could be to all of us and Antos' hard work if it gets out. We need to keep this under wraps for as long as we possibly can. Julian, don't contact Deep Space Nine about this unless you absolutely have to. For now, it's a Bajoran matter, not a Starfleet one, and I intend to keep it that way.”

The doctor nodded his understanding. “Keep in close touch with me, both of you,” he said. “As soon as you find anything, I want to know. I'm going to have to use the lab facilities on the Mekong. Use the secured channel for anything sensitive.”

Odo and Kira nodded. “If you can take me somewhere I can start analyzing those personnel files, I'd appreciate it,” he told Daran. They all spread out. They had a lot of work to do, and time wasn't on their side. The funeral would be starting in less than eight hours.

Kira

Kai Winn's Abode

Bajor

With Daran's support, it was easy gaining access to the Kai's home at the monastery. Kira found herself admitted right away and led to a small side room that was tastefully appointed and smelled strongly of incense. However, the wait seemed interminable. Urgent means urgent, damn it, she thought with intense frustration as she paced a tight circle. What had possessed her to listen to Julian and bring Garak along? Every instinct had yelled at her that it was a horrible idea and that nothing good could come of it. She had wanted to believe differently, wanted to hope the way Antos had hoped. What had hope ever gotten her but kicked in the teeth, repeatedly? She ground those teeth now and wished that she could storm Winn's bedroom and demand to speak to her right away. Every passing second brought them closer to disaster.

When the Kai swept into the room, she was fully dressed and bejeweled. To look into those cool, glass green eyes, one would never believe that the middle aged woman had been awakened in the middle of the night. “My goodness, child,” she said mildly, “you're in quite a state.”

Kira frowned, feeling her shoulders twitch at the hated address. Had it come from Kai Opaka, it would've sounded comforting. Coming from Winn it was pure condescension, and it grated every last nerve. “That's because I've been here at least fifteen minutes,” she said sharply.

Winn graced her with a small smile and tilted her head. “I'm here now, Major, and you're wasting even more precious time complaining instead of getting to the point.”

Pressing her lips together so hard they numbed, Kira gave a taut nod. “You're right. We have a problem. Garak has gone missing.”

“The Cardassian you insisted on bringing here?” Winn asked, her eyes widening.

“I didn't insist!” Kira said, outraged. She swiftly shifted tacks. Letting the insufferable woman bait her would solve nothing. “That doesn't matter right now. What matters is that he's gone, and it's already looking as though it could be foul play.”

Winn turned away from her, one hand to her chest lightly, the other fiddling with a curtain cord. “I knew that it was a bad idea to allow you to do this,” she said heavily. “I was trying to give some...concession...to the pain I know you feel at Antos' passing.” She paused and gave Kira an almost coy look over her shoulder. “Sentimental thinking just leads to trouble, child. You see that now, don't you?”

“I don't need a lesson from you in sentiment,” Kira retorted. “We've got to find Garak before the funeral!”

“Yes, you do,” Winn agreed, “which makes me wonder what you're doing here at all. Shouldn't you be turning the grounds upside down looking for him?”

Her temper was a pressure building in her chest to unbearable levels. The fact that she held it bore testament only to her respect for the woman's position, not for the woman herself. “I felt that you deserved to hear this in person rather than finding it out some other way, and I wanted to give you time to come up with a plan in case we don't find him in time.”

The woman smiled and turned back to face her fully. “In truth I had long since stopped expecting such courtesy from you,” she said. “Perhaps our vedek's passing has shown you the importance of coming together in a time of crisis. I certainly hope so, at least, that more good came from his loss than I ever expected. Thank you, Major.”

Kira narrowed her eyes. “You don't seem worried at all,” she said. “If I didn't know better, I'd think it possible you had something to do with this.”

Almost imperceptibly, the false warmth in Winn's pale green eyes cooled. “It's a good thing that you do know better, given that you're the one who brought this unfortunate problem right to our doorstep,” she said, the hint of sharpness in her mellow alto a clear warning that Kira was treading on very dangerous ground. “I'm appalled that you would even entertain such a thought, given how tirelessly Antos and I worked to forge that treaty. If anything, isn't it far more likely that this Cardassian of yours,” she said in a way that made it sound to Kira as though she were referring to an errant pet, “wasn't happy with what we accomplished and has taken the opportunity to sabotage it? How well do you really know him, Major?” And that question had accusation and something even nastier and more barbed hidden in its honeyed undertone.

She saw the verbal trap just before stumbling into it. If she said she barely knew Garak at all, the truth, she would be accused of having been careless in including him in the funeral arrangements. If she tried to feign more familiarity than she had, even if Winn didn't detect the lie, it would beg the question, why was she spending that much time in the company of the enemy? “I don't think he'd do that,” she managed, realizing she had to say something.

“Based on what?” Winn pressed.

“Odo trusts him,” she answered. It wasn't true at all, of course, but she didn't dare bring Julian into this or reveal his relationship with Garak to Winn. She could tell the woman already strongly disliked the doctor, and the Kai was a dangerous enemy to have. If she could protect Julian from that, she would.

“I think you place more trust in the changeling's judgment than you ought sometimes,” Winn said. Kira couldn't be absolutely certain that she had taken her statement at face value, but as it wasn't like her to back down from a verbal advantage when she had it, it was likely. “Keep me abreast of your progress, Major. You have the resources of the monastery at your disposal for this.”

Kira nodded tightly and turned to go, recognizing a dismissal when she heard it. She allowed none of her relief that the woman hadn't further pursued the line of questioning to show until she was out of the house and breathing the cool, humid air of nighttime Bajor. As she strode quickly back toward the communal housing complex, she reflected sourly that never in her short life had she thought she would trust any Cardassian more than the Kai of Bajor, but she did. She considered it far less likely that Garak would sabotage the treaty in this way than that Winn somehow had a hand in it and an ulterior motive. It's not that she thought he was noble or selfless, far from it. He simply had more to gain personally from a Bajoran/Cardassian alliance than he did from the dissolution of the same. But what did Winn have to gain?

Her eyes narrowed as she gave this hard thought, stepping back up to the double doors and through them into the dimly lit foyer. That was the trouble with Winn. She had a way of keeping your attention on what you could see until it was too late to stop what you couldn't see, her real angle, from happening. She found it ironic and annoying that the one person who might actually have been able to pierce any deviousness on the Kai's part was the very person they were looking for. Never thought I'd say I miss Garak, she thought dryly, but with something like this, he's useful. She wanted to check in with Odo, hoping that his efforts were bearing more fruit.

Julian

USS Mekong

Science Lab

Sighing, Julian scrubbed his hands down his face and stared in dismay at the veritable mountain of dishes surrounding him in the small lab of the runabout. He had been assured that he was in possession of every dish that had been used at the large dinner. Grimly, he had already begun the painstaking task of scanning each one for traces of...he didn't even know what, something that would explain Garak's falling asleep quickly and not putting up a struggle against whoever had taken him. So far, he was getting nowhere, and with his mounting frustration came mounting worry. The Bajorans had every reason to hate Cardassians. He couldn't deny the brutal realities of the occupation. It gave him much more reason to fear for Garak's safety, for even though sabotage of the treaty might possibly be the goal of the abduction, that didn't mean that whoever did it wouldn't also take sadistic delight in dishing out paybacks. The quicker they could find him, the better chance they had of recovering him intact.

The comm chimed, and he set down the mug in his hand to answer it. His blood froze when he saw the face that popped to life on his screen, not Odo or Major Kira as he expected, but Enabran Tain. “Hello, Doctor,” the agent said cheerfully. “I hadn't expected that you and I would see each other again so soon. I hope I'm not interrupting anything important?”

His heart started thudding so hard in his chest that he thought the man would be able to hear it over the comm, weak Cardassian hearing notwithstanding. “Nothing that can't afford the interruption,” he said carefully. He tried in vain to read anything at all in the bland smile and the deep set dark eyes. He had seen the expression before dozens if not hundreds of times, just on a different face. No wonder Garak could be so inscrutable.

“That's excellent to hear,” the elderly Cardassian said. “I would truly hate to tear you away from anything that required your full attention. I have a little problem, and it struck me that you were just the person to help me.”

Julian swallowed in a suddenly dry throat. “I'm...flattered,” he said, “that you would think I could be of any use to you, given your vast resources.”

Tain chuckled appreciatively. “There's no need for exaggeration, Doctor. My domain isn't what it was, and we both know it. I've misplaced something, and I have a strong suspicion that you may have seen it recently. My resources not withstanding, it's valuable to me. I left it in a very specific place, and I really don't appreciate others coming behind me and moving my things. You wouldn't happen to know where it is, would you?”

“Not...specifically,” he said, finding it hard to breathe normally. The intense scrutiny of the Cardassian's gaze pierced straight to his marrow, even with the screen and who knew how much distance separating them. He shuddered to think how it would feel in person, and he didn't want to find out.

“So you know what I'm referring to,” Tain said. “Excellent. I hate having to explain myself overly. You have no idea how tiresome that can get. Am I to glean hope from you that you have a general idea, then?”

“I think so,” Julian said. “In fact, I'm looking for it, too.”

The large Cardassian's look shifted from benign curiosity to reproach. “You told me I wasn't interrupting anything important,” he said, tsking once. “I suggest that you get back to it posthaste, Doctor Bashir, or it won't be just the Bajorans Cardassia holds responsible for this. This is the stuff interstellar incidents are made of.” The transmission cut abruptly.

“Oh, God,” he gasped aloud, his thoughts racing as quickly as his heart. So much for keeping this from Commander Sisko. There was no way he could, not with that blatant threat still ringing in his ears. Bracing himself for quite possibly one of the worst ass chewings of his career, he sent a secure transmission directly to Commander Sisko's quarters. He didn't have time for this, but he couldn't ask Odo or Major Kira to do it. It wasn't their problem or their responsibility.

Commander Sisko's face appeared, his quarters dark behind him, and his expression sleep muzzy. “Doctor,” he said thickly, “I hope you have a better reason for waking me up than the night you came to me asking for a runabout.”

“I'm afraid so,” he said grimly, filling the man in quickly on everything that had happened and ending with that very chilling warning and threat from Tain.

All traces of sleep fled from the Commander's face, his expression as thunderous as his question, “Exactly when did you intend to tell me about this, Doctor?”

He sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. He had no desire to throw Major Kira under a shuttle, so he tried to phrase it diplomatically. “The Bajorans wanted to handle this as an internal affair, and I was trying to respect that, Sir,” he said.

“By the Bajorans, you mean Major Kira,” Sisko said, seeing right through it. “Where is she? I want to have a word with her.”

“She's still on Bajor, Sir,” he answered, “conducting the investigation. I'll let her know that you want to speak to her as soon as I can. I really need to get back to my part of it,” he added, “unless you need me for something else?”

“We haven't finished this discussion, Doctor Bashir,” Sisko said severely, “not by a long shot, but I'm letting you go for now to do what you need to do. From this point forward, I want you to keep me informed every step of the way. If I get contacted by the Cardassian Central Command or the Obsidian Order, I need to have something intelligent to tell them. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir,” Julian said respectfully.

“Sisko out,” the man growled and cut the transmission.

That went about as well as could be expected, he thought direly, knowing that he'd look back on this part of the discussion with nostalgia by the time Sisko was through with him. He couldn't think about that. He had to get back to work on those dishes, but not before one final thing. At the very least, he owed it to Kira to give her a heads up for what was coming her way. He put a call through to the monastery. Vedek Daran answered his hail. “Doctor?” he said, “have you found anything?”

“I'm afraid not yet,” he said. “I need to speak to Major Kira at once.”

“She's out with some of the vedeks combing the property. I can put you through to Constable Odo, though,” he replied.

“Please, do so,” he said tersely, waiting. As soon as Odo's face came up on screen, he said, “Constable, I'm afraid we have a much bigger problem than we realized. I've had to contact Commander Sisko about the situation, because I was just contacted by Enabran Tain. I don't know how he knows, but he does. The Cardassian government is less than pleased, and so is the Commander. He wants to talk to the Major. I tried to deflect him. He'd have none of it.”

Odo frowned and shook his head. “Tain,” he said, exasperated. “That puts a different spin on things.”

“What do you mean?” Julian asked.

“I have some news, too, Doctor, and it isn't good, I'm afraid. Two vedeks are missing, Alith and a man named Bannen. Daran noticed they were absent from the assembly he called, and we haven't been able to find them anywhere. It helped me narrow my search of the records, but that turned out to be less helpful than I had hoped. Both of them are operating under false identities. The forgeries were good ones. Without Daran's cooperation and Major Kira's knowledge of the Bajoran Resistance, I wouldn't have known what I was looking at.”

“Who are they?” the doctor asked tightly, more clenched with worry than before, and he hadn't thought that possible.

“I don't know yet. I'm still working on that. It seems interesting to me that Tain has gotten word of this so fast. It could indicate Cardassian involvement at some level.”

Something he said clicked in Julian's mind, a leap of logic he usually tried to hide from those he worked with, but at the moment, he didn't have the time to play dumb. Garak's life hung in the balance. “Odo,” he said more sharply, “I need you to do me a favor. I need you to put me in touch with Doctor Mora right away.”

“Doctor Mora?” Odo exclaimed, taken aback. “Why?”

“I don't have time to explain. Just please do this, and ask him to cooperate with me. He might be...reluctant...otherwise,” he said.

With narrowed eyes, Odo said, “Stand by. This will take a little time.”

Nodding, Julian put that time to good use, taking blood and urine samples from himself, and starting the computer analyzing them. As a list of compounds and chemicals began scrolling on the display screen, the Bajoran doctor who had been responsible for the initial studies of Odo after he was first discovered appeared on his comm screen. The man's normally neatly combed hair was in disarray. He had obviously been roused from a deep sleep. “Doctor Bashir,” he said, covering a yawn, “I hope you'll forgive my appearance. Odo said this is a matter of urgency?”

“Yes, and I hope that you'll forgive my intrusion and...presumption. You worked closely with the Cardassians during the occupation, and I'm in need of your expertise.”

The Bajoran adopted a warier tone. “I did because I had to, Doctor. I'm not sure what you're implying...”

“Believe me, I'm not trying to imply anything untoward,” he said hastily. “It's just that Starfleet has extremely inadequate knowledge of Cardassian physiology, and I am in desperate need of some of that knowledge right now. If I send you a chemical analysis of my own blood and urine, do you think you might be able to spot something that might badly affect a Cardassian but not a human or a Bajoran?”

“It's possible,” the doctor said, rubbing at his eyes. “I'd need you to send it to my lab, though, not my home. It's going to take me about twenty minutes to get there. Is that going to be a problem?”

“No,” he replied. “It will give me time to obtain a few samples from some Bajorans, too. I'll send all of the results your way as soon as I have them.” The man nodded, giving him a secure code for the transmission and ending the call.

Odo reappeared on his screen. “Was there anything else you needed?” he asked.

“As a matter of fact, yes. Can you have Daran gather a grouping of people who were at dinner tonight? Let them know that I want to take blood and urine samples, and that this is completely voluntary. I'll be beaming down shortly to come collect the samples.”

“Very well,” Odo said. “I'll continue working on these records.”

As long as he had something to do, he felt as though he could hold it together. His worry for Garak had to be held at bay, because if he really let himself think about it, he'd be paralyzed with fear and helplessness. Hours had already passed. They were running out of time for their deadline. Did that also mean that Garak was running out of time, period? He didn't know, and that was the worst part of it all, the not knowing. He collected the samples, beamed back to the Mekong, and sent all of his data to Doctor Mora. The search of the dishes themselves was proving absolutely fruitless. The act of washing them in hot, soapy water had destroyed anything that might have told him what he needed, which was why he hoped the biological samples would tell a different tale.

After what seemed an interminable wait, Mora contacted him. He could already see from the satisfied gleam in the man's eyes that he had found something of note, and he listened eagerly. “I wish I knew more of what was going on over there,” the doctor said. “I've found what you were looking for. You're lucky you asked me when you did, Doctor. It breaks down rather quickly in the body, and all of you had already begun to metabolize it. It's a mild toxin called afresznia. It's easily broken down both by humans and Bajorans, as well as several other races, but in Cardassians, it produces profound lethargy.”

“Does it harm them?” he asked quickly.

“No, Doctor. Think of it as a soporific and little more. However, there is no reason it should have been anywhere near what any of you were eating or drinking. The plant from which it is derived is actually very toxic and only grows in a few remote regions of Bajor. I'm sending you a topographical map to show you.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Julian said with deep sincerity. “You've helped me more than you know. If I can ever return the favor, all you have to do is ask.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” Mora said in a way that had him slightly worried.

He contacted Odo again, sending him the map and telling him what Mora had said of the plant. “I don't know if this will help or not,” he said. “I'm going to be scanning the grounds and the surrounding province with the Mekong's sensor array again. I've made some adjustments to try to compensate for the radiation interference I was getting from the natural rock formations beneath.” He wished in that moment that Dax was there. She knew much more about such things than he.

“This does help me,” Odo said. “One of these valleys is in a region I've managed to connect to Alith. I'll get back to you when I have more.”

“Don't bother,” Julian said. “If this scan isn't productive, I'm coming back to the planet. I've done all I can do here. Bashir out.”

Despite the adjustments, he couldn't get any more definitive answers than he obtained with the first scan. The computer could tell him clearly that there were a multitude of life forms beneath the ship's orbital position, but it couldn't narrow what type they were. Giving up on that, he beamed back down again to rejoin the search in person.

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Eye of the Needle--Part II

Red Sky at Morning--Part III, Conclusion

Red Sky at Morning--Part II

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