dark_sinestra

Author Notes: The story is an in-between story, taking place after Let He Who is Without Sin... and before Things Past. It's the beginning of some of the canon departures I've mentioned, minor so far, that will build over time throughout the rest of the series. Some of the Jem'Hadar dialogue comes from In Purgatory's Shadow. Chronology between Julian's part of the story and Garak's isn't exact. I wrote it for flow, not precision of the lining up of events while they're apart.

Summary: Julian does his best to adjust to the harsh conditions of Internment camp 371 and convince his bunk mates that he's more useful alive than dead while Garak tries to adjust to a return to life outside of confinement and fulfill the obligation he made to attend the Bajoran conference on the occupation.

Author: Dark Sinestra

Date Written: July 2010

Category: Slight slash.

Rating: PG-13 for violence and adult themes.

Disclaimer: Paramount has always done a decent job of protecting their creative property, to the point I'm not tempted to try to pretend what's theirs is mine.

Word Count: 16,703

 

 

( Part One is here. )

 

( Part the second, cut number two! )

Author Notes: This story is set before and during Explorers. It doesn't work very well as a stand alone, although knowledge of the events of “Dangerous Game” and “Deconstruction” should be sufficient to make it make enough sense. The dialogue where Leeta introduces herself to Julian is taken from the episode. As always, I've done my best to minimize rehash otherwise.

Summary: Julian and Garak struggle with the aftermath of their relationship strains and emotional turmoil resulting from the destruction of the Obsidian Order and the Tal Shiar in the Gamma Quadrant. When the valedictorian of Julian's graduating medical school class is scheduled to visit the station, his flagging confidence takes another blow, he learns a painful secret, and Garak takes the opportunity to cultivate the seeds of revenge against an enemy, Cardassian style.

Author: Dark Sinestra

Date Written: January 2010

Category: Slash

Rating: NC-17 for adult situations, mild adult language, and explicit sex.

Disclaimer: The handsome doctor, crafty tailor, loyal engineer, cute dabo girl, sleazy bartender, devious waiter, gorgeous station, and plot of Explorers do not belong to me. Too bad, because I'd take very good care of them. The imbalanced nurse, however, is mine. All mine.

Word Count: 16,251

 

Julian

Private Quarters

 

Julian lay sprawled on his back in bed, one leg out from under the covers and sweat slowly drying on his body. He rested a hand on Garak's hip and felt the Cardassian go lax under his touch, his breaths evening out to the steady rhythm of sleep. With an echo of pleasure still thrumming him, he carefully rolled to his side and climbed out of the bed, making his way stealthily into the bathroom. Stepping into the sonic shower, he hit the button to activate it and leaned a hand against the shower wall, his eyes closed.

 

He didn't know what was wrong with him. Garak had been, well, better to him than he ever had during the entire relationship. He was considerate, charming, agreeable, and tender in bed. Maybe that was part of the problem. Julian knew he was holding back, not being himself out of fear of what? Losing control again? Frightening him? He shut the shower off and stepped out, crossing back into his bedroom and picking out something to wear in the very low light. He had done his best to show the tailor that he was committed to making things work and that he had no intention of leaving just because things weren't perfect.

 

It didn't help that being touched in certain ways or feeling pinned made him react negatively. If given time, he could breathe or think his way through it. The trouble was that Garak was too observant. He'd back off at the slightest sign of the doctor's discomfort. More often than not, he was also still crying in his sleep. When awakened, he'd allow Julian to hold him until he fell back asleep again, his silent tears wet against Julian's chest. He wouldn't talk about it. He claimed that he couldn't talk about it, but he wouldn't explain what he meant by that. Being understanding was difficult when that felt like mistrust.

 

It was early yet, and he was restless. He grabbed up a random PADD and left a quick recording for Garak in case he awakened, to let him know that he was stepping out and would be back later. Out in the H-ring, he felt as though he could breathe easier. He had no idea how to broach the subject with Garak, and he felt horribly ungrateful considering the Herculean efforts he knew the man was making on his behalf. How could he tell him it was too much, to back off and be an ass again sometimes? The tailor was extremely sensitive to what he called “mixed messages”. He didn't want to give the appearance of game playing or being fickle.

 

He took the lift down to the Promenade and made his way to Quark's Bar, deciding that coffee would be smarter than alcohol. He didn't need to be drinking in the mood he was in. Activating the PADD, he realized he had lifted one of the crime novels Miles had loaned him. Smiling to himself, he picked up where he left off and sipped at his coffee.

 

Movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention. Looking up, he saw a gorgeous Bajoran dabo girl approaching. “Excuse me,” she said, offering him a brilliant smile, “you're Doctor Bashir, aren't you?”

 

He smiled and said, “That's right.”

 

“I'm Leeta,” she introduced herself. “I've been meaning to come by the infirmary.” She gave two cute little coughs, her look coy.

 

It had been so long since anyone other than Garak had flirted with him, he was taken completely off guard. He couldn't help but to play along. It felt nice, and it was harmless. He ordered both of them hot toddies. Just as the waiter left, Dax approached. Not now, he groaned inwardly. It wasn't as though he was doing anything wrong. When it looked as though Dax would be joining them, he typed, “Go away!” on his PADD and handed it to her. She complied, but not before dropping the bombshell on him that the valedictorian of his graduating med school class would be visiting the station in three weeks. He found himself so discombobulated by the news that he couldn't even properly return to flirting.

 

Leeta sensed his distraction and excused herself after she finished her drink. “I'll come by the infirmary soon,” she said, “so you can have a look at me and tell me if you think I'm all right.”

 

He blinked, his mouth slightly open, and nodded. “Yes,” he managed, “you should do that. Those coughs can turn nasty before you know it.”

 

A shadow fell across his shoulder as she sauntered away. He swiveled his head to see Quark. The Ferengi's gaze tracked Leeta's departing backside, but his words were for the doctor. “You're playing with fire, Doctor,” the man said casually.

 

“Leeta? No,” he scoffed, laughing it off. “She thinks she's coming down with something. That's all.”

 

“It's not Leeta I'm talking about,” he said with a significant look.

 

“Well, I really don't know what you are talking about,” he said, smiling and shrugging.

 

Setting his tray on the adjacent table, Quark efficiently bussed the empty glasses. “During the occupation, I once saw a Cardassian break another Cardassian's neck with his bare hands right outside my bar.”

 

Julian frowned, his lip curling at the mental image. “That's awful,” he said.

 

“It was. Apparently, the unfortunate victim had made his interest in the Gul's comfort woman a little too public. They're funny that way, Cardassians. They don't like to share.” He shot a pointed look Julian's way.

 

He widened his eyes, both brows lifting. “Quark,” he said with a half laugh, “stop worrying. I was just having a conversation.”

 

“Mmhmm. I've seen it all before,” he said. “The mouth says one thing, the eyes another. But who am I to give advice?” He lifted his tray, tossing parting words over his shoulder. “I bet your neck would be a lot easier to break than a Cardassian's. What do you think?”

 

Shaking his head, he decided it was time to get back to his quarters. The last thing he needed were rumors starting. The worst part was that Dax still had his PADD, and the novel was just getting interesting.

 

Garak

Julian's Quarters

 

He awoke to an empty bed. Pressing his hand lightly to the mattress, he noticed it felt cold. Julian had been gone for some time, then. He stretched and sat up, rubbing absently at his eyes. Wrapping the outer blanket about his shoulders, he slid out of bed and padded into the sitting room, calling up the lights. He wasn't there, either, but a light flashed on the comm. He triggered the message and shrugged. He knew that he hadn't felt nearly as social as usual lately. It was no wonder Julian wanted the chance to get out a little. Thinking nothing of it, he climbed back into bed and fell asleep. The next time he awakened, it was from nightmare, always the same, the Warbird on fire around him, the bridge in shambles, Tain droning on about the old days, rooted to the spot. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't budge him. Then he awakened on the runabout only to see the ship explode in the distance. “Enabran,” he murmured.

 

“Are you awake, Love?” Julian's voice sounded from the darkness.

 

He felt a warm arm slide across his chest, and he allowed the doctor to pull him close. “I am now,” he said, settling against the slim form, his cheek against the smooth chest. “Did you have fun out? I got your message.”

 

“I did. Just sat in Quark's for a while, reading. I hope my absence wasn't what awakened you.” He trailed light fingers over Garak's shoulder and back.

 

“No. I'm not sure what did. You know I haven't been sleeping very soundly.” He allowed his hand to slide lower and play against the soft trail of hair that started just beneath the doctor's belly button.

 

The doctor nodded, bending his head and resting his lips in Garak's hair. “I wish you'd consider those pills I told you about. They do help.”

 

“You know I don't like pills. They do strange things to me. My body doesn't react well to them.” As he slid his hand lower, Julian slightly lifted his thigh and tensed. He instead let his hand cup over the cusp of one of the sharp hip bones. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

 

“No, nothing. I'm just tired now and wanting to get a little sleep. You know how we are. If we go back for seconds, we'll be awake until it's time for me to get ready for work.”

 

“I can make it considerably quicker if you want,” Garak said, turning to nip lightly at his chest.

 

“Maybe at lunch,” he said, shifting so that he could put his back against the tailor. “I really am too tired right now. I'm sorry. If I had known you'd be awake, I would've come back earlier.”

 

“It's all right,” he said, careful to keep his disappointment out of his voice. He turned so that they lay back to back and focused on his own breathing until his arousal retreated. As he drifted back toward sleep, he hoped that the nightmare wouldn't return. He had been fairly exhausted lately, too, due to the disruptions of the dreams. When he got to where he could hardly bear himself, he'd talk to Odo about any number of things except what was eating at him. It helped relieve the internal pressure, and he suspected that Odo found it helpful, too, talking to someone who understood him better than most and didn't pressure him to conform to some preconceived notion of acceptable sociability. The two outcasts, he thought with fleeting dry humor. Their unlikely friendship was one of the few good things in his life he could lay at the feet of his father. Had he not tried to have Garak killed, they never would have bonded. He finally fell asleep on that odd thought and remained undisturbed through morning.

 

Julian

The Infirmary

 

The work had been steady all morning. As lunch time approached, he found himself thinking as much about the dabo girl, Leeta, as he was about the tentative plans he had made with Garak for a “quickie”, that being a relative term when it came to the tailor. As it was, he knew they'd be cutting things very close. He wondered if he would object to just using the stock room. It would drastically reduce walking time.

 

He periodically glanced toward the entrance. About five minutes before he needed to leave, she came through the door. She looked different dressed in casual Bajoran style, no less beautiful, though. As soon as her warm brown eyes met his, she smiled widely and approached, coughing discreetly into a fist. “Hello, Doctor,” she said. “As you can see, I think it has gotten worse.”

 

“Excuse me,” Nurse Decla said, turning toward the two, “but do you have an appointment?”

 

“It's all right, Nurse,” he said a bit stiffly. “She spoke to me last night and told me she'd be coming by. I'll take care of this.”

 

“What about your lunch date?” the woman asked too sweetly.

 

Leeta glanced at him uncertainly. “Is this a bad time? I'll be going on shift soon, and I wanted to make it by before you got off for the day.”

 

“No, it's fine,” he said, shooting Decla a cold glance as he put a hand lightly to Leeta's back to guide her toward one of the examination rooms. “I'd be remiss if I allowed a social engagement to take precedence over a potential case.”

 

After they stepped into the room, she turned to face him, her lower lip caught between her teeth. “I have a confession,” she said. “I don't really have a cough. I just wanted an excuse to see you before I had to go to work. I don't get much free time.”

 

He smiled slightly and moved closer so that their voices wouldn't carry. “I suspected that,” he said. “And I'm flattered, but...I am seeing someone.”

 

She nodded. “I had heard, and I've seen you out with him a few times. I wasn't sure if you two were very serious or not. You're not very...well...the body language between the two of you is pretty stiff.” She shrugged. “I'm sorry if I assumed something I shouldn't have.”

 

“No, not at all,” he said. “I mean, I'm not offended.”

 

“If you decide you want to expand your dating options, you know where to find me,” she said after a moment of speculative silence. “I figure it can't hurt to keep my options open.” She shot him a wink and showed herself out, a subtle perfume lingering in the air after she was gone.

 

Rubbing a hand down his face, he shook his head and hurried out to the Replimat. Garak was already there. As he approached, the man stood from his seat at their table. “I was beginning to think you changed your mind,” he said.

 

“No, I haven't. I just had a late drop by. I told her last night I'd take a look at her cough when she had time to come by.”

 

The tailor smiled very faintly, something serpentine and calculating in the look. “You don't usually expound on your patients, dear. I do hope the cough isn't serious?”

 

“No,” he said, barely avoiding ducking away from that too knowing look. “So I was thinking of your stock room,” he added, hoping to distract him. “It's much closer than our quarters. We'll have more time.”

 

“Very thoughtful of you,” Garak agreed, offering him his arm. “Shall we, then?”

 

Julian slipped his hand through the crook of his elbow and walked with him toward the shop. He thought back to what Leeta said, about their body language being stiff together. It wasn't as though he wanted it that way. He had always bent himself to what Garak found acceptable. After he had seen how dangerous some Cardassians could be, he had stopped questioning that requirement. Things were different now, weren't they? Tain was dead. Most of the Obsidian Order had been destroyed. Why should he not be more demonstrative if he wanted to be?

 

He leaned in to press a kiss to Garak's cheek, only to have the tailor flinch away and murmur, “We're nearly there.”

 

“I know that,” he said. “I just wanted to kiss you. Is there something wrong with that?”

 

A troubled expression fleeted through blue eyes. Garak hesitated then said, “No, I suppose not.” He tilted his head slightly to invite a second attempt.

 

“Never mind. It's not the same if it's not spontaneous.” He let go of Garak's arm and walked ahead of him into the shop, heading straight toward the back. He was starting to regret agreeing to this. They weren't much in sync at the moment.

 

Garak closed the shop and stock room doors. He gave Julian an assessing look and without fanfare reached down to unfasten his belt and the lower portion of his tunic. Julian watched him, unsure of exactly what the man intended. When he also unfastened his trousers, pulled them part way down, and crossed to lean over a shipping crate, his intent became clear. Feeling a small thrill of excitement, Julian came up behind him, unzipping his uniform to open it along the front. He stirred to hardness on his way and reached around the tailor to slick his hand with his natural wetness. Smearing it downward onto his cock with a single pump of his fist, he reached again, this time easing a lubricated finger into the tight opening presented to him so temptingly.

 

It was very rare for Garak to make such an offer without any prompting on his part. Without hesitation, he positioned himself, thumb at the base of his shaft, head teasing circles. Garak pressed back steadily, impaling himself and groaning softly. It was all the encouragement Julian needed. He dug his fingers into the scaled hips and rode forward, leaning over the tailor's back and feeling the thick tunic and his turtleneck nap together in the friction. As he closed his eyes, his mind took him to a new partner, and the thought of doing the same to her pushed him right over the edge. He moaned, his head dropping forward to rest against the broad back beneath him. He rode out every last spasm and lay there, not fully trusting his legs to support him.

 

Garak shifted as though to remind him that he was still there. Feeling guilty, Julian straightened and pulled out. He reached to turn Garak to face him and dropped easily to his knees to take the length of him into his mouth. There was no corresponding fantasy to match this experience. In part to make up for his mental lapse and in part because he genuinely enjoyed the taste and feel of his lover, he tongued and sucked at him with abandon, feeling the man's wetness slicking his cheeks and chin. Garak's fingers tangled in his hair, but his hold remained gentle. It frustrated him. He wanted more, wanted his force, his fire. He redoubled his efforts, rewarded at least by a tremor in the strong thighs. The tailor leaned back against the packing crate and gripped the edge of it with both hands.

 

Julian pulled off of him with a soft, wet pop and stood, grasping at him and clutching him against his chest. He kissed him forcefully, thrust Garak's own moisture and taste past his lips and bathed his tongue with it. He felt the Cardassian hard against his belly and an answering stir, bucking his hips and clinging tightly to Garak's hair. Arms encircled him fiercely, fingers spreading and digging across his back. Yes, he thought. This was what he wanted, not the tender care, not right now. He stiffened fully, rubbing cock to cock and then managing to work his way past the scaly ridge, into that velvety slit that was better than anything he had ever felt before he had become this man's lover.

 

Garak threw his head back, letting out a prolonged, “Ahhh,” that was both pleasure and pain given voice. Julian spared him no mercy, seeking, hungering, and needing. He bit a sharp line down the deeply scalloped scales at the base of a neck ridge, feeling Garak jerk and twist for each pinch of teeth. “My love,” the man gasped, the fingers digging at Julian's back closing to fists in his uniform.

 

Yes, he thought again. He worked himself into a sweaty mess, no longer thinking of the time or whether they'd meet their deadline. Lifting his head from feasting at the exquisite neck, he thrust his tongue past firm lips, kissed him so deeply his jaw began to ache. Garak's slippery cock leaped between them like a thing alive and with a volition of its own. He pressed harder and tighter, using the friction of the light trail of belly hair to finish him in a glorious explosion. While the tailor was still gasping from his pleasure, each breath captured in the doctor's mouth, Julian came again, feeling his seed flooding the tight cavity and spilling back outward and down over their thighs.

 

“Your uniform,” Garak said, panting.

 

Pulling back, he saw that his turtleneck was splotched in several damp patches. Leave it to the tailor to think of such a thing in the moment. “It's all right,” he said. “It won't show once I'm zipped back up again.”

 

“It might not show, but to anyone with a nose stronger than that snip of a useless thing you humans use, it's going to be painfully obvious what you've been up to,” the tailor said.

 

“So what if it is?” he said, frowning. “My God, Garak, we've been together off and on over two years. If people haven't figured it out by now, then they're either stupid or blind.”

 

Garak blinked at the tone in his voice and bent to gather his trousers and pull them back up. He turned away to find his belt and quickly refastened the base of his tunic. Something in the quiet dignity of his actions made Julian believe he had hurt his feelings.

 

He zipped himself up and touched Garak's shoulder lightly. “I didn't mean to snap like that,” he said.

 

“You haven't been yourself lately, and we both know why,” Garak said, almost meeting his gaze but not quite. His focus seemed to rest just lower, perhaps at his cheek. “Let's not pretend.”

 

He sighed. “We don't have time for this discussion right now. I'm probably late for getting back to work.”

 

“You have precisely four minutes and thirty-two seconds,” the tailor said. “I've been keeping track for you.”

 

“This new concern of yours for my schedule is touching,” he said carefully. “You've been very considerate about a great many things, and although I appreciate it...it's not really necessary. It's not you.”

 

“I see,” he said. After a beat, he turned to face the door. “Computer, open stock room door,” he said.

 

“Garak,” he said, hurrying to catch up to him before he could get far, “I didn't mean it like that. I didn't mean that you're not considerate at all. It's just...it feels like you've been treading on eggshells around me, and I don't want you doing that.”

 

“You need to get back to work,” the tailor said gently, giving his forearm a light squeeze. “Computer, open shop doors.”

 

He tried to kiss him. He may as well have been kissing insensate stone. Once more they had gone from aching intimacy to full shut out. This time, he knew it was largely due to what he had just said. However, he had been telling the truth. If the truth brought them to this point, then what were they to do? “Can we talk about this later tonight?” he asked.

 

Garak nodded. As he left him to get back to work, he couldn't help but to think that the tailor looked somehow lost. It didn't bode well for the later conversation.

 

Garak

Private Quarters

 

Dinner cooled on his table. Thinking at first that Julian had been detained in the infirmary, he had placed a call about thirty minutes ago only to be told he had already left for the day. He didn't have the clearance to ask the computer where he was, and he didn't feel like running all over the station looking for him. With a stubborn set to his mouth, he sat down to eat his portion of the meal.

 

He chewed with slow deliberation and thought about lunch. It wasn't fair, or perhaps he had simply expected too much. Perhaps the limit to the doctor's ability to understand had lessened over time. Could he blame him? For all of their chemistry, they weren't terribly compatible. The longer they were together, the more obvious it became to both of them. He believed that Julian was trying. Maybe the man didn't even consciously realize that he still didn't trust Garak on a most fundamental level. He didn't know how he could make himself any less threatening than he already had without simply not moving and staying completely silent.

 

He wished with everything he had that he could explain to him why losing Tain hit him so hard, but to do so would endanger his mother. He'd sooner die than do that. It must be nice to be so sheltered, he thought bitterly, to believe that everything will be fine if we all just trust each other, open up, and don't hold back. He threw his fork down in disgust, his appetite gone. Why would Julian ask to talk and then not even tell him he was running late? What was there to say? Obviously, all of his efforts were for nothing. He was damned if he did and damned if he didn't. If that was to be the case, then he might as well do as he pleased. He cleaned up his portion of the meal and retreated to his bedroom to read. Maybe Preloc would calm him down and give him some perspective.

 

As he read, something niggled at the back of his mind. He hadn't tried to look at any reports out of Cardassia on the doomed joint raid. The thought of it was so painful that he shied away. Sentiment is weakness, he told himself. Setting the PADD aside, he went to his comm and took a seat before it. It was time to stop avoiding the situation like keeping a tongue tip out of a fresh tooth socket. It was time to see exactly who and what had been lost that day. It took him a long time to get to what he was after, but when he did, he couldn't look away. Some of the ships were missing, not destroyed. If there were missing Cardassian ships, might there have been missing Warbirds, too? Was it possible the ship carrying Tain hadn't been destroyed after all? It was probably foolish, but he felt a spark of something he had given up on long ago, hope.

Author Notes: This story spans Improbable Cause and The Die Is Cast. It works better as a stand-alone than some of the recent previous ones but still makes the most sense when read in continuity with the rest. At some time during the middle of the story, chronology isn't exact. I made the creative decision to break apart a long conversation between Julian and Sisko for the sake of pacing, but it shouldn't be assumed the conversation lasts the full two hours it takes for Odo and Garak to reach Cardassian space or that any part of it has been skipped during that time. You get to see the whole thing.

Summary: A mysterious assassin visits Deep Space Nine with a mission to eliminate Elim Garak. As details unfold, Odo discovers that things are not what they seem. While he and Garak travel to Cardassian space to find the answer to the mystery, Julian works to secure Garak more rights in their relationship. The theater shifts to the Gamma Quadrant, a doomed mission and a successful rescue party, but not all dangers come from without. Can the relationship survive the subsequent stress, or will it fall apart at the seams?

Author: Dark Sinestra

Date Written: January 2010

Category: Slash

Rating: NC-17 for strong adult situations, violence, disturbing non-con elements, and mild adult language.

Disclaimer: I only wish that I had written such excellent episodes or invented such compelling characters, but alas they aren't mine, which is probably a very good reason I don't get paid for writing these things. A bit of dialogue comes from each episode, but I worked to keep it to a minimum.

Word Count: 18,776

 

Garak

The Promenade

 

Garak hummed cheerfully to himself as he walked to work. Although business was still slow thanks to the Dominion threat that overshadowed everything these days, he couldn't complain. Things between him and Julian had never been better, the two of them closer due to the doctor's recent ordeal with the Lethean. He still hadn't spoken his true heart to the man; however, he had made some efforts to show him that he meant more to him than anyone else in his life.

 

He passed a Flaxian carrying a small case. The alien made eye contact with him, and he found himself inexplicably on guard. He showed nothing of his suspicion as he finished his walk to his shop, never looking back or changing his pace. It might be nothing, or it might be something more than that. One thing he never did was to ignore his instincts. He turned on the lights, changed around a few displays, and stepped behind his counter. A prompt flashed on his computer. Decrypting it, he read, Watch your back. Can't say more. You won't hear from me again. Sighing to himself, he said softly, “And things were going so well.” There was no time for regrets. If he wanted to survive the next day or so, he had a lot of work to do and a very short amount of time in which to do it.

 

Julian

Private Quarters

 

Julian carefully read over the documentation sent to him by his attorney, making certain he understood the finest minutiae. He didn't want to mess this up or find himself having to revisit the issue down the line because he overlooked some simple detail. Besides, he knew that Commander Sisko would grill him hard as soon as he approached him with his idea. He had to have a good grasp of the legal ramifications or run the risk of coming across as impulsive and childish. It had been so difficult keeping his plans from Garak. He hoped that he would accept his offer, for it wasn't one he intended to make lightly.

 

Satisfied that things were in order, he left his quarters for work. He had a busy day ahead of him. Rigellian Flu was making the rounds. Over half of his staff were out with it. He uncharitably wished that Nurse Decla was, too, but it seemed that she was too bitter a pill even for an alien flu. He didn't think he had ever seen the woman so much as sneeze.

 

The morning flew by more quickly than he expected, one advantage of being busy. To his irritation, Garak was late for their usual lunch date. He never spoke of it, but it annoyed him at times how little regard the tailor paid to his schedule. He seemed to expect Julian to adapt to his instead. This included their readings of literature. As he recalled, they would be revisiting Julius Caesar. He knew better than to hope that the irascible Cardassian's opinion of the play had changed over time. He could be extraordinarily stubborn and arrogant when it came to comparisons of Terran and Cardassian literature.

 

“I'm sorry I'm late,” Garak said, strolling up at a leisurely pace. “At least the line isn't long.”

 

“No, of course it's not, because most people have already ordered their food for lunch time and are in the process of eating it,” Julian said irritably.

 

“Have I ever told you that you are most unpleasant when you're hungry?” the tailor asked, blinking at him innocently.

 

“You're not exactly easy to bear when you are, either,” he said, folding his arms. Of course Garak stepped in front of him at the replicator to order first. He often did such things. Julian wondered how much of it was cultural and how much of it was contrariness.

 

They sat at their table, and he began to eat quickly. He was famished, couldn't afford to take a long lunch, and had no desire to savor the very mediocre food. Garak groused at him about how quickly he ate and of course about the play. He felt his irritation notch up a degree higher. It would do no good to reveal it. Too often the man delighted in it, and once he realized he was under the doctor's skin, he dug in like a persistent tick. He found himself wondering what had gotten into Garak. He was more annoying than usual, and there was something of a slight edge to it that he simply couldn't place. As though he's never testy simply because he can be, he thought wryly.

 

His patience ran out more quickly than it usually did. He thought perhaps he might be coming down with the flu. Although he felt fine physically, often his moods were the first things affected by a bout of a bug. Garak was barely halfway through his food. He felt somewhat guilty about leaving him like that, yet work wouldn't wait. The two stood and headed from the Replimat together. Major Kira caught his attention, and he waved the Cardassian ahead of him with the promise of catching up to him later.

 

Garak

The Promenade

 

As he left Julian, he reflected a bit sadly that perhaps he disguised his motives and emotions too well. His lover didn't seem to have noticed anything amiss during lunch. He privately thought he was being particularly inane, downright babbling. Maybe the doctor was too distracted with his work. He had seemed frazzled.

 

He strolled casually toward the shop doors. It wouldn't do to hesitate or flinch. He could never be sure when Odo was watching or who else might be. He hoped that he had rigged the explosive device properly. Otherwise, he was in for more than ringing ears and superficial injuries. No sooner had he crossed the threshold than he was blinded by a hot, white flash, deafened by a roaring boom, and knocked senseless from the concussive blast, landing over two meters from where he had been standing.

 

Julian

The Promenade

 

He didn't feel as though he had time for Kira's dilemma. If the woman would just pick up a PADD and read sometimes, she ought to be able to figure out some of the things she asked him herself. He was no expert on Yalosians, any more than she was. He simply bothered to do a little research. He carefully hid his irritation. She could spark like dry tinder at just a hint of disrespect.

 

Quite suddenly, his mind was derailed from its thought train by a loud, violent explosion on the Promenade below him. He and Kira exchanged glances and darted down the stairs into the smoke and the fray. Aliens fled the scene, forcing him to fight his way through them. As soon as he saw the source of the explosion, Garak's shop, he began scanning for the Cardassian, spotting him lying on the floor well outside the blast site being treated by one of the nurses.

 

He rushed over and looked into dazed blue eyes, taking in all of his injuries at a glance. Thank every power in which he didn't believe, Garak seemed to be all right. He got him speaking to him and got him on his feet. It looked like he took a nasty knock to the temple and had a few cuts and lacerations on his face, neck, and hands. “Let's get you to the infirmary,” he said, supporting him with an arm at his waist. “What happened to you? Do you remember?”

 

“Doctor,” Garak said, “at this point, you probably know more than I do.”

 

He somehow doubted that, but he held his tongue, feeling a little guilty about how irritated he had been at lunch. Maybe there had been more to the behavior than he thought. Was it possible Garak saw something like this coming? Who would want him dead right now, and why? He mulled the questions as he began treating the worst of the injuries first. A few minutes later, they were joined by Commander Sisko, Odo, and two security officers. To his horror, instead of opening up and being helpful, Garak launched into one of the worst episodes of prevarication he had ever seen from the man. He was positively aghast at the things coming from his lover's mouth. Exiled for tax evasion? He tried his hardest to catch his attention and glare him into submission, but the Cardassian was having none of it. Worst of all, he tried to continue his ruse after the two left.

 

Julian sighed. He thought they had made more progress than this. It seemed that as soon as Garak felt threatened, he retreated into some of his very worst habits, and nothing, not even the person who loved him most on the station, could get through to him. He was glad that Odo decided to assign some security guards to keep him safe. How effective could they be if Garak would give no hint as to what was going on or who wanted him dead, though? Maybe he'd be more willing to talk about it in private that night. He hoped so.

 

Garak

Julian's Private Quarters

 

Garak listened silently while Julian berated him. “I can't believe that after everything that has happened today, you wouldn't cooperate with Odo once he finally had a suspect! The man was trying to help you. How can he do that if you won't help yourself? You know, I really should have insisted that you just stay alone in your quarters tonight since you managed to make him angry enough to cancel your security detail. If you're going to insist on going through your life not trusting anyone, apparently including me, how can you expect any of us to be of any help to you at all?”

 

“My dear, if I went through my life expecting help, I never would've lived as long as I have,” he said reasonably. “Would you please stop pacing? You're going to give me a headache with all that frenetic movement and gesticulation. I get that you're upset. I don't need the demonstration.”

 

The doctor stopped in mid stride, frowning. “Well, I'm glad at least one of us can be so casual about this. You don't get it, do you? Do you have any idea how frightening it was to see smoke and flames billowing out of your shop and you lying on the ground like that? You're damned lucky you're not dead!”

 

“I was never worried. I have an excellent physician,” he said lightly. He knew that he was infuriating his lover. There was just no way he intended to show him how truly frightened he was. It would help nothing, only ensure that both of them were nervous wrecks.

 

Julian tightened his jaw. “Stop trying to turn this into some sort of joke, Garak,” he snapped. “There's nothing remotely amusing about anything that happened today or your cavalier attitude.”

 

“I assure you I find nothing funny about this situation,” he said more gravely. “It has confirmed a suspicion I've had for some time, however.” He walked slowly over to the star port and gazed outward. Someone out there wanted him dead, several someones, but whose hand was pulling the Flaxian's strings?

 

“What's that?” Julian asked warily.

 

“Any tolerance or goodwill most have for me on this station is more an illusion to make you happy than genuine,” he replied.

 

“That's not fair,” the doctor said heatedly. “I love you, and even I was ready to wring your neck in the infirmary and at Quark's later. Your behavior has been nothing short of outrageous! The Commander and the Constable want to help you.”

 

“No,” he said more sharply than he intended, turning to pin the doctor with bright, focused intensity. “They do not want to help me, Julian. They want to make sure this station is safe, and they consider me, a victim of this crime, more suspect than the Flaxian Odo took into custody. If you can't see that, you're either being intentionally blind, or you're not nearly as intelligent as I thought you were.” He saw hurt flash in the warm, brown eyes. It was just as well. If he stayed here tonight, he could expose Julian to the same danger he faced. It was time to leave. He turned to head toward the door.

 

Julian quickly moved to intercept him, both hands to his shoulders. “Where do you think you're going?”

 

“Back to my quarters,” he snapped. “You said yourself that you regretted inviting me back here for the night.”

 

He sighed. “Garak, I didn't mean it. I'm just frustrated with you and worried sick about your safety. Please, don't leave.”

 

“Your concern is appreciated but unnecessary,” he said with cold dignity. “I've kept my own skin intact for over fifty years. I don't need a Starfleet Lieutenant standing between me and whatever is waiting for me out there.” He firmly removed the hands from his shoulders and stepped out the door without looking back. He didn't want to see the hurt confusion that he knew he had put in the man's gaze.

 

He cautiously returned to his quarters and gave the rooms a very thorough search before settling in a bit. From the manifests Odo had shown him, he knew the Flaxian was scheduled to depart the next day. He also knew that Odo was too stubborn and dogged to let this go. He packed himself a light bag and set it near the door. When Odo went to track the would-be assassin, he planned to go along for the ride. He was just as curious about who was behind this as the rest of them.

 

He allowed himself a few hours of sleep and then stealthily made his way through the station toward the runabout pad. He felt bad about not telling Julian what he intended. He simply couldn't trust him not to go to one of the others about it out of some misguided sense of concern. This wasn't the first assassination attempt he had survived in his life. The dear young man had no way of knowing his true capabilities, and he hoped for the sake of their relationship that he never had occasion to find out. He easily cracked the entry code for the small craft and settled himself comfortably inside. If he knew Odo, the Constable wouldn't be much longer in arriving.

 

Julian

Ops

 

“Wait a minute. He did what?” Julian whispered the question to Kira.

 

She frowned. “He sneaked himself onto the Rio Grande so that he could go with Odo to track the Flaxian,” she said. “As soon as the Flaxian engaged his warp drive, the entire ship exploded. That's what they're all talking about in the wardroom now.”

 

He frowned, too. This was getting stranger by the moment. As he thought back to their argument the night before, he wondered if the provocation hadn't been completely deliberate on Garak's part. He wouldn't put it past him, some misguided attempt to keep him safe and out of the line of fire. Why did it seem that every time he and Garak managed to make real progress in their relationship, something happened to disrupt the growing connection? Whether Garak's motives were strictly self-preservation or less selfish, it amounted to the same thing, shutting him out and handling things in a way that just made things worse with his superiors and the Bajoran government.

 

He hoped for answers when the meeting ended, but not even Miles would tell him anything. Did they think that because he loved Garak he would compromise his job? He left Ops angry and out of sorts. He half expected that Garak wouldn't meet him for lunch, but he spotted the man waiting for him at their usual table. Instead of going for food, he sat down immediately, arms folded, and glared daggers. “I suppose you have no intention of telling me anything, either.”

 

“Who is withholding information from you, dear?” Garak asked mildly, taking the chair opposite.

 

“Everyone! They're acting like I'm a security risk. I can't tell if they're afraid I'll tell you something I'm not supposed to or if they don't want to worry me. Either way, I've had it with being treated like a child. Major Kira is younger than I am. Nobody coddles her or condescends to her, and as for you, I am done with being kept in the dark. Do you understand? From the moment we got involved, I've known there were risks. It's my right to decide if I want to take them or not. Keeping secrets from me doesn't protect me, Elim. It makes the situation more dangerous, because I don't even know what it is I should be watching for!”

 

Garak sighed. “I suppose you have a point there. The explosion of the Flaxian's ship was caused by a forced neutrino inversion,” he said. At Julian's blank look, he added, “According to Odo, it's a common method the Romulans use to trigger a bomb.”

 

“The Romulans?” the man frowned. “Why would the Romulans want you dead?”

 

“That's a very good question,” the tailor responded with a distant, musing look.

 

Julian studied him closely. “You truly don't know, do you? This isn't more of your game playing.” He tentatively reached across the table and settled his hand atop Garak's, giving a soft squeeze.

 

Garak's features tightened slightly. “I haven't been playing games,” he hissed. “I take attempts on my life very seriously, Doctor, and I resent that implication.” He withdrew his hand and tucked it into his lap. “You sound just like Commander Sisko.”

 

At first it hurt to hear that, until he remembered it was a common tactic the tailor used when he felt vulnerable. “I'm going to take that as a compliment,” he said carefully, “because like the Commander, I am concerned with your safety. If we're frustrated with you, it's because we're worried about you, not because we look down on you or your ways. Can't you see that?”

 

Relenting slightly, Garak patted his hand. “You're a good man,” he said. “As neither of us seems to have an appetite today, why don't you get back to work? I need to go assess the damage to my shop and see what I'm going to need to do to clean it up.”

 

“All right,” he said reluctantly. “If you need anything, let me know. I'm not far away.”

 

“I'll do that, my dear,” Garak said with a slight smile.

 

He watched him walk away with a feeling of foreboding. He didn't have to be an expert on Romulan culture to know that when they wanted someone dead, it was rare for them not to get their way in the end. What could Garak have possibly done to earn such enmity? How much did he really know him if it came down to it? Was it possible their entire relationship was just another role? No, he thought, refusing to accept that. Garak had given too much evidence that he genuinely cared for him to doubt that. Despite their difficulties, he made the decision to trust at least that.

 

Garak

Security Office

 

After two days of quiet since the bombing, Garak could hardly believe his eyes, scanning down a Cardassian PADD obtained by Odo during a clandestine visit to one of his contacts from the Union. He felt like a Terran child on that odd holiday some of them liked to celebrate who had been given everything he asked for and then some. There was no love lost between him and the five who met their fates on the same day he had been slated to meet his own. His inward chortling threatened to burst out, and his mood wasn't even suppressed by Odo's barbed questioning.

 

Oh, he had known that sooner or later the changeling would discover the truth, that he blew his own shop up to get him involved. Desperate times called for desperate measures, as the saying went. He hadn't expected such rich results from his costly manipulation. Unfortunately, the common denominator among the six of them was his own father. That thought was enough to take some of the wind out of his sails. If they had been targeted, it was likely Tain had, as well. “May I use your communication system?” he asked Odo suddenly.

 

Since the security chief was long past accepting his ruse that he was a simple tailor, he took the opportunity to show off a little of what he knew about encrypting communications across subspace. It had been such a very long time that he had been able simply to be himself. It felt good to drop the amiability and playful verbiage and get down to business. He didn't expect to see his mother's face instead of his father's come up on screen. She looked so much older than when last he had seen her. He could tell by the worry in her eyes and voice that something was wrong before she told him that Tain had departed quickly the day before.

 

There was no question of what he'd do when she asked him to help. He may have been angry with his father, may have felt every bit as hurt and betrayed as Tain claimed to be, but the man was still his father. Despite everything he had done to him, Garak still loved him. He only hoped that he wouldn't be too late. “I'll need a runabout, Constable,” he said, turning to face the changeling.

 

Odo studied him for several moments. “We'll need a runabout,” he corrected him. “I'm coming with you.”

 

He didn't know whether to be touched or irritated. In truth, he felt a bit of both. Nodding, he turned to go. “I need to pack. I'll meet you at the Rio Grande shortly.”

 

Julian

Commander Sisko's Office

 

He could hardly believe that Garak had left the station. They hadn't even had time for much of a proper good-bye. He read urgency in every line of his lover's face, knew better than to question him closely or delay him. Despite the last minute attempted humor, he didn't feel good about what was happening, and he didn't believe for one moment that Garak did, either. It was very small comfort to know that Odo was along for the ride. He didn't completely trust the security chief to look out for Garak's best interests if he was given a reason to believe Garak was up to something.

 

The Cardassian hadn't made his current task any easier. Sisko was less inclined than usual to be charitable or tolerant when it came to the tailor. He could tell by the man's no-nonsense expression that he wouldn't give him much leeway in the upcoming discussion. Sighing to himself, he offered the PADD across Sisko's desk. “I appreciate your agreeing to see me at short notice,” he said, waiting to take his seat until the Commander did so. “I've been wanting to do this for some time now, but I didn't want Garak to know, at least not yet. With him gone from the station, it seemed like a good opportunity.”

 

The Commander held a hand up to quiet him as he gave his full attention to the PADD. Julian tried to sit quietly without fidgeting, feeling like nothing more than an errant school boy seated before his headmaster and wondering if he were about to be assigned to detention. He had poured over the legal document again and again and almost driven his attorney to distraction with his detailed questions.

 

Lifting his gaze and leaning back in his seat, Sisko tossed the PADD onto his desktop. “Are you out of your mind, Doctor?” he asked, pinning him with the full weight of his dark brown glare.

 

Julian sat up straighter, lifting his chin. “No Sir,” he said, fighting to keep any trace of defensiveness out of his voice. “I've given this long and careful consideration. My attorney assures me that it is not in violation of Federation law or Starfleet policy, even if it is extremely unusual.”

 

“Extremely unusual is understatement,” Sisko said. “You're proposing turning over power of attorney, the ability to decide if you live or die in an emergency, to a man we know almost nothing about, who blew up his own shop on this station to manipulate Constable Odo into undertaking an investigation, and who as we speak is heading off on a mission to check on the welfare of the ex head of the Obsidian Order!”

 

The doctor blanched. Garak hadn't filled him in on those last two details, and he hadn't asked. There was nothing to do now but to press forward. “Yes Sir,” he said stiffly.

 

Sisko sighed heavily, lifting his baseball from its stand and turning it in one hand. “Why, Doctor? Do you realize what a move like this will look like to Starfleet? Hell man, do you realize what it looks like to me?”

 

He forced himself to meet that angry glare. Sisko wasn't his father. This wasn't about gaining or losing approval. He reminded himself of that as he answered. “With all due respect, Sir, I don't care what it looks like. I'm doing this because I don't ever want him to have to go through what he went through when I was unconscious again. Frankly, when it comes to such a situation, I'm inclined more to trust his judgment than that of a Bajoran nurse who doesn't much like either of us.”

 

The Commander made a small sound of irritation. “That was unfortunate, yes,” he agreed. “But what you're talking about extends well beyond such circumstances. Not only will he have life or death decision making abilities for you, he'll be in full control of your assets should you ever become incapacitated.”

 

“Commander, he's not a Ferengi,” he said, feeling irritated at the implication. “Whatever you can say about him, you can't believe he'd rob me blind.”

 

“Until today, I wouldn't have believed he could blow up his own shop and pin it on a Flaxian,” he said pointedly.

 

Julian scoffed. “You've never trusted him. Let's not quibble over details. I'm asking you to look over that document and grant me permission to file it in Federation legal archives. Just because you don't trust Garak isn't a good enough reason for you to refuse me. If you do, I'll file an official protest.”

 

“Let's get one thing straight,” Sisko said, leaning forward. “I don't take kindly to threats. If you expect me to stick my neck out for you over something this outrageous, you're going to have to answer some questions. I can promise you they're questions that Admiral Nechayev will be asking me when this comes across her desk.”

 

“Ask,” the doctor said with an abrupt gesture. He had known this wasn't going to be an easy sell. He was prepared to do whatever it took.

 

Garak

USS Rio Grande

 

He'd never tell Odo, but the time they were spending together on their way toward Tain's safe house was more enjoyable than most conversations he had had for a very long time. With his civilian pretense stripped away, they could engage on a level more suitable to both of their intellects and observational skills. The changeling thrust very close to the truth with his observations about his emotional attachment to Tain, and he in turn jabbed at Odo's facade of unconcern when it came to the solids around him. He suspected more than just a little that the Constable had feelings for Major Kira. He wasn't ready to play that hand, however. Part of the most skillfully played game involved knowing when to keep things close to the vest. It was an entertaining way to while away the time and distract himself from his worry for his father's safety.

 

After a little over two hours, they neared their goal within Cardassian space, then everything stopped making sense altogether. A Romulan Warbird decloaked and tractored them in. He was certain that the two of them were in for a most unpleasant time, only to find himself escorted into the presence of Tain himself looking healthy, if much thicker than he remembered him, and very satisfied with himself. Of course, he thought bitterly. The Romulans didn't want me dead. He did, but why?

 

He had no choice but to play this new game on Tain's terms, thrusting and counter thrusting for every scrap of information he could glean. Odo impatiently watched the two of them, obviously not impressed. He didn't expect the blunt as a hammer security chief to understand the nuances of Cardassian maneuvering, but even he found himself feeling impatient with the lengths to which he had to go to uncover the mystery of his assassination attempt and what business the Romulans had in Cardassian space.

 

The more he heard, the more alarmed he felt. Tain and his new associates in the Tal Shiar actually believed they had a chance to take the Founders of the Dominion by surprise and eradicate the lot of them? He didn't dare to show Odo that he found himself in agreement with his position that this was a rash action not to be undertaken at any cost. How was it possible that Tain was willing to trust some of his worst and most implacable enemies now?

 

Even if he could take his father's offer to allow him to leave unscathed at face value, something he strongly doubted, where would that leave Tain? Every instinct screamed at him to leave and cut his losses, the same instincts that screamed that the Romulans couldn't be trusted for an instant and that Tain was in terrible danger, just too proud and set in his ways to realize it. Over Odo's sensible objections, he accepted Tain's offer to join him and return to the fold. Perhaps if he remained at his side, he could be of some use when things went badly, as he believed they inevitably would. He realized that in this act, he couldn't afford to blink or flinch, not for a split second. If his father wasn't the one to realize his true motives, the Romulans would be, and they just might kill him for it.

 

Julian

Commander Sisko's Office

 

Sisko steepled his hands before him and let his index fingers tap at his chin. “This relationship of yours,” he said slowly, “who started it, you or Garak?”

 

“I did,” Julian answered. He felt a little offended at the Commander's look of surprise. “I imagine you expected to hear differently,” he continued, “a tale of an older man taking advantage of a young officer's naïve fascination with his air of mystique. While I won't deny that Garak has held a certain fascination for me from the beginning, that wasn't why I decided to take our friendship to a deeper level.”

 

“Why did you?” Sisko asked.

 

Julian flushed slightly. He wasn't about to tell his commanding officer that it started thanks to an erotic dream. “I just realized one day that I saw him in a different light, and I acted on that interest. Is that any different than it is for most people?” he asked.

 

“No, I suppose not,” the Commander conceded. “Have you had many relationships with men in the past?”

 

“What does that have to do with anything?” he asked hotly.

 

Sisko held up a hand. “As you were, Doctor. Starfleet brass is going to look for any excuse they can find to dissect your association with Mr. Garak. If this is unusual behavior for you, they're going to find it suspect. They may even decide that your loyalty to the Federation has been compromised.”

 

He sighed and said, “It is unusual for me. Then again, so is any sort of sustained relationship. Before Garak, I had only one other I was truly in love with, a ballerina in Paris. I've dated a few aliens since my assignment and before Garak and I got involved, no Cardassians, obviously. Commander, I didn't fall in love with a sex or a race. I fell in love with a person. Why is that so hard to understand?” His eyes flashed. “We wouldn't be having this conversation at all if I were making this same request with a Bajoran in mind.”

 

“We've never been at war with the Bajorans,” Sisko said plainly.

 

“And we're not at war with the Cardassians now, any more than we are with the Klingons. In fact, we have a treaty with Cardassia, as I recall.”

 

“You're serious about this relationship?”

 

“You wouldn't have that legal document in front of you if I wasn't,” he answered, feeling his patience slipping.

 

“Have you discussed it with your parents?” he asked.

 

He had had enough. He stood abruptly. “I'm sorry, Commander, but that...all of this...really isn't any of your business. If Starfleet wants to find it unusual that I haven't invited my parents to Deep Space Nine to meet the man I'm in love with, then they are more than welcome to contact my parents and ask them what we have discussed in the past decade or so. My request is legal. It's well reasoned, and it's not due to some manipulation on Garak's part. Garak has nothing to gain from power of attorney over me or my assets except one thing and one thing only, the right to see me and be at my side in time of an emergency, the same right that any lover ought to be able to expect in time of crisis. Since we can't get married, this is the next best thing. It protects me as much as it does him from unscrupulous prejudices.”

 

Sisko eyed him oddly for some long moments. “You'd marry him if you could?”

 

“It's not possible, so it's not something we've ever even discussed,” he answered tightly.

 

“Sit down, Doctor,” Sisko said in a gentler tone of voice. “I'm done with the questions, but I want to say something to you as your friend, not your commanding officer, before you leave and I forward this to Admiral Nechayev with my permission for you to file.”

 

Feeling wary, he did so, his back straight and both feet planted firmly on the floor. “What?”

 

“What you're doing will definitely prevent another incident like the one you had with Nurse Decla. That much is true. Have you considered what it will do to your career? You and I both know that the peace we have with Cardassia is tenuous at best. Tensions along the DMZ are rising every day. This whole conflict with the Maquis could explode in all of our faces before all is said and done. You will be the only Starfleet officer in history to have an enemy of the Federation with legal power over you. In fact this document might not even survive a legal challenge should that event arise.”

 

“I've considered all of that. I know how I'll be viewed. In some ways, I already am viewed that way here. I'm very aware of it and of how much many of the Bajorans resent me as a by-product of resenting Garak. If you were in my position, Sir, would you allow those concerns to get in the way of protecting the person you love? Can you sit there and tell me honestly that you'd behave any differently?”

 

He knew he had him then. The last of his resistance fled, leaving only concern and resignation in its place. “No, Doctor, I can't tell you that. I just wish that for once, I could talk someone into being more reasoned and intelligent than I would be in their place.” He smiled slightly. “You can file this first thing in the morning. Was there anything else you needed?”

 

Julian shook his head. “No. Thank you, Commander. I appreciate your time, and I won't be filing this until Garak returns and I know he's willing to accept the responsibility.” He left the office with mixed feelings, relief at having made his case, worry that he might be making a mistake, but most of all fear that Garak might not even make it back in one piece to take on the role he hoped that he would accept. The unexpected news that he had left out of concern for Tain's safety didn't sit well with him at all, not after he had seen the active malice in the old Cardassian's eyes in regard to his Elim.

Julian

Quark's Bar

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“Why? What happens tomorrow?”

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

She laughed. “I'm sure I don't know.”

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“Then what?”

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“You love him very much,” she said.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

Garak

Quark's Bar

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“The military?” he asked pointedly.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

Julian

Garak's Quarters

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“She is,” Garak agreed.

 

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

 

“Yes,” the tailor agreed again.

 

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

 

“I do,” he replied without elaborating.

 

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

 

“True,” Garak said, nodding.

 

“Is...is that by choice?” he asked.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“Not entirely,” he admitted.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

Garak

Habitat Level H-2

Chamber 703

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

The End

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.