dark_sinestra

Kira

Monastery Grounds

Bajor

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“Thanks a lot,” Julian said angrily.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

Odo

Monastery Office

Bajor

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

Garak

Unknown Location

Bajor

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“They want him unharmed,” she said uncertainly.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

Julian

Vedek Daran's Office

Bajor

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

Garak

Unknown Location

Bajor

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

Julian

Unknown Passage

Bajor

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

Kira

Monastery of the Kai

Bajor

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

Julian

The Infirmary

Deep Space Nine

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

“What is it?” he asked cautiously.

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

Garak

The Infirmary

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

The End

Author Notes: This time I decided to do something a little different. It always bugged me to death that there was no real follow through to Life Support, and it was a recurring complaint I had with DS9, that many of their recurring character deaths had no aftermath and no apparent consequences. This story doesn't follow the plot of any other episode, and it takes place between Life Support and Heart of Stone, my version of an episode that never was but that I think should have been. I also branch away from just Julian's and Garak's points of view, covering some of Kira's and Odo's thoughts and reactions, too. Overall, I'm pleased with the way it turned out, and I hope you enjoy it, too.

Summary: In the wake of the new treaty between Cardassia and Bajor, Bajor mourns the loss of one of its own. Complications arise, as not everyone is happy with the tenuous peace and will stop at nothing to bring it to an end. Will Major Kira, Odo, Doctor Bashir, and Garak be able to prevent catastrophe, or have events been set into motion that are too large to be contained?

Author: Dark Sinestra

Date Written: December, 2009

Category: Slash

Rating: Mild R for implied sexual intimacy, mild adult language, strong adult themes, and violence.

Disclaimer: The plot is mine, but alas the characters and settings are not. I love them anyway.

Word Count: 20,229


Red sky at night, sailor's delight. Red sky at morning, sailors take warning. --Old Earth Proverb

 

Julian

Garak's Quarters

 

As Julian rolled over, his hand flopped onto a hard, ridged plane. Emerging from sleep like a swimmer breaking the surface of a warm lake, he smiled to himself. It hadn't been a dream. He was in bed with his Elim, and after their brief conversation before he fell asleep, he was pretty sure this wasn't a one time fluke. He pressed his palm flat over the slowly rising and falling chest of his sleeping companion. Despite being sore in pretty much every part of his body, he didn't believe he had felt better in a very long time. Then he recalled the reason he came to Garak in the first place and felt an intense stab of guilt. How could he lie there, acting like the cat that ate the canary, when Vedek Bareil was dead, and Nerys was hurting? He rubbed his cheek lightly against the man's shoulder, pressed a soft kiss, and rolled to get up.

 

Garak's fingers coiled loosely about his bruised wrist before he could stand. “Did you really think I wouldn't awaken?” he asked.

 

“It took you longer than it usually does,” he said with a shrug and a slight smile. “I thought perhaps you needed your rest.”

 

“They'll want you on Bajor soon,” the Cardassian said, tugging a bit harder. “But I don't think they'll begrudge you a few minutes.”

 

He allowed himself to be pulled back into the bed, stretching lengthwise next to his lover. The slow, sensual kisses, such a contrast from the night before, made him wish that he had all day to stay. If they did nothing more than that, he'd be satisfied. The tailor's fingers kneaded broad circles in his back muscles, somehow avoiding the sore bite that he reminded himself to treat later, just in case. Cardassian bites weren't nearly as prone to going septic as human ones. Even so, he was never one to push his luck with such things. “Why are you being so nice to me?” he asked, the change in attitude so profound it made him suspicious.

 

“Because I was anything but nice last night,” Garak admitted.

 

The doctor shook his head and laid his index finger against the man's firm lips. “Not another word about that, now or ever. I don't care if you were angry or vindictive. I loved everything you did to me, and I wouldn't change it for anything.” He looked him in the eyes until he saw concession. One advantage of Garak's uncanny ability to read him was that it was ridiculously easy to convince him that he was telling the truth when he actually was. A sudden thought struck him. “You should come to Bajor with me.”

 

“And slap every single Bajoran in the face with my presence? I think not,” Garak said.

 

“This is different,” the doctor insisted. “Vedek Bareil gave his life for a treaty of peace between your people and the Bajorans. To hear Kai Winn talk, you'd think he was barely an accessory to the fact when he was that treaty. Legate Turrel was leaving early this morning to return to Cardassia. You're the only representative of your people here, quite possibly the only one who knows the truth of how this treaty came to pass. Your presence there would send a strong message reinforcing what that man gave his life to do.”

 

Garak's look grew thoughtful. “Talk to Major Kira,” he said at last. “Find out how she feels about this. I have no desire to cause her further pain.”

 

Julian couldn't help his surprised reaction. “I thought you couldn't stand her.”

 

“There is still a good deal about me that you don't know or understand,” he said simply. “Ask her, and Julian, if she says no, don't push her. I know how persistent you can be,” he said a bit dryly.

 

After a quick breakfast and a stop in the infirmary to self-treat the bite wound, Julian discovered that Major Kira was in the station's Bajoran temple along with every other Bajoran on the station who could clear their schedule. He didn't know what they were doing, although he didn't believe that it was the actual funeral. He was almost certain that would be held on Bajor itself. He heard repetitive chanting and realized it must be the death chant. Feeling like an intruder, he slipped away to the infirmary but kept an eye on the Promenade for a sudden flux of Bajorans. Eventually, he saw what he was watching for.

 

He stepped into the crowd and walked against the flow, gently touching shoulders as he eased by. Eventually, he spotted her and made his way to her side. He struggled with what to say, for although as a doctor he had lost many patients in his time, dealing with grieving loved ones was never routine or simple. She took the choice out of his hands, offering him a tremulous smile and saying, “Doctor, I know he would have wanted me to thank you for respecting his wishes, and for...” her voice wavered, but she got it under control quickly, “doing the right thing by him in the end. And I want to thank you for standing up for him and being his advocate when I...when I couldn't.”

 

“Nerys,” he said gently, “he never had a stronger advocate than you.”

 

She quickly lifted a hand to swipe at her eyes. “Thank you, Julian,” she said, her voice trembling more. She took several deep breaths, sounding more in control afterward. “Funeral arrangements are being made as we speak. I would appreciate very much if you'd come down to Bajor with me and sit with me. Word has already spread of the efforts you made to save his life. It would mean a lot to my people, and to me.”

 

“Of course,” he said, “I'd be honored.” He felt bad about bringing up Garak, but he genuinely believed that having him there would do more good than harm. “Nerys,” he said, his brows drawing together and upward at the center, “I want to ask you something, and I...I know it's going to be difficult to hear.”

 

She stopped walking and touched him lightly on the back of the hand, drawing him aside into an alcove. “Ask,” she said sincerely, meeting his gaze squarely.

 

He realized then that things had changed profoundly between them. Whereas before, she tolerated him and perhaps liked him in an abstract sort of way, now she viewed him with respect and gratitude. She was treating him as an equal. He forced himself to hold the black gaze and willed her to understand his reasoning. “I...want to invite Garak to the funeral,” he said.

 

“Julian!” she said with such hurt reproach he immediately regretted the decision. However, he knew that if he backed down from it without even offering an explanation, she would believe he asked for purely selfish reasons, which couldn't be further from the truth.

 

“Vedek Bareil believed in this treaty,” he said earnestly, “with everything he had. Legate Turrel is gone, and Winn is already over-inflating her importance in the negotiations. Garak knows what Bareil did, and he respects it. You and I both know that extremist factions on both worlds are just looking for an excuse to undermine the hard work. Having a Cardassian presence at the funeral will underscore his importance and remind people of who really made this happen.”

 

She narrowed her eyes and folded her arms tightly beneath her breasts. “Did Garak put you up to this?” she asked.

 

“No. In fact, when I suggested it to him, he said he'd have no part of it if you didn't agree wholeheartedly, and he instructed me specifically not to push you. Nerys, I'm not pushing, but I wanted you to understand my reasons for asking.”

 

She reacted with surprise to that, her expression growing troubled, and then thoughtful. “It does make sense,” she said quietly. She sighed. “More importantly, it's exactly the sort of thing Antos would have wanted. All right, Julian, he can come, but if we're bringing him, we should probably bring Odo, too.”

 

“Surely you don't believe he'd try something in the runabout or on Bajor?” he asked.

 

Once more, she gave him her reproach, though not as forcefully as when he first broached the subject. “No,” she said impatiently, “but I wouldn't put it past someone on Bajor to try to do something to him.”

 

He hadn't even considered that, frowning. “You're right,” he said. It was on the tip of his tongue to suggest they scrap the whole idea when he realized just how selfish that would be. Garak, himself, must have known the inherent danger in what Julian was proposing. If he was willing to make the gesture, and another man had already given his life to make that gesture possible, who was Julian to balk, particularly while facing the woman who had the difficult task of continuing after loss? “If you want us to ride separately, or sit somewhere else...” he offered.

 

Her jaw tightened to a determined look he had come to know well. “No,” she said. “If we're going to do this, then we're going to do this all the way. He'll sit with us. It's what Antos would've wanted.”

 

He respected her so much in that moment, and he wanted nothing more than to pull her into the tightest hug he could manage to comfort her. She wouldn't want that, though. Her control was already hanging by a thread. Any such gesture on his part could completely unravel it, and he knew she'd be mortified. “If you need anything,” he said, reaching to squeeze her shoulder and leaving his hand there a few moments longer than he normally would, “please, don't hesitate to ask.”

 

She took a deep breath. “There is one thing,” she said. At his nod of encouragement, she continued. “Please, tell Garak that unless I talk to him, I don't want him talking to me. I'm sorry,” she added quickly, “but the last thing I can take right now is some sort of misguided attempt at comforting me from a Cardassian.”

 

“I understand,” he said, and he did. “I think he'll understand, too. Were situations reversed, he would almost certainly feel the same way.”

 

She nodded. “Thank you. I should go. I have a million things to do before we leave.”

 

He watched her hurry away with mixed feelings about the whole idea, but he still felt that it was the right thing to do. He walked to Garak's shop to let him know what had been decided. After that he had several things to tend, himself, such as finalizing his notes and record of the Vedek's passing and making certain that staffing would be adequate in his absence.

 

Garak

USS Mekong, heading Bajor

 

Seated toward the back of the runabout, Garak did his best to be unobtrusive. Julian and Odo piloted, and Major Kira sat midway between them and Garak. The only words he had exchanged with the woman took place right before they boarded. He had simply asked her if she was certain she was all right with having him there. Her reply had been less than encouraging, that what she wanted was secondary in this matter. Although he understood the custom and need to respect the dead, he would never understand the desire to live one's life following supposed wishes or dictates of them. The dead had no wishes. Desire was the purview solely of the living.

 

He had never seen a Bajoran burial of state. He thought of his and his father's—he would always think of Tolan Garak as his father—work in the Tarlak Sector on Cardassia Prime, tending the gardens and monuments to Cardassia's great fallen, and felt a deep ache. He missed Tolan's stoic wisdom and gruff affection. In all his life, perhaps aside from his Julian, he believed that no one, not even Mila, had ever loved him more.

 

He thought of the Bajoran burials he had seen, grubby affairs of half starved people keening ancient words over broken bodies and scrabbling in the dirt, sometimes with their bare hands, to give a proper send off to their deceased. Inadvertently, he cast Bareil and Kira in the roles, and he felt his gut clench, for a very brief moment wondering if he'd be ill. He knew his people, his government. Was it sedition to hope that for once, their intentions were at least somewhat straightforward? You've been gone from home too long, he thought direly. You don't even sound like yourself anymore. A quieter, more insidious voice asked, Is that so bad? He grunted softly. When Kira whipped her head around, he turned it into a convincing cough. She looked away just as quickly.

 

Eventually, Julian and Odo brought the runabout into synchronous orbit of Bajor. Garak, Julian, and Kira gathered their bags, Odo his bucket, and the four transported down to the surface. Several vedeks stepped from the front doors of Bareil's former monastery to greet them. “If you'll please come this way, we have rooms prepared for you,” a fair haired man in the lead said. “I'm sure you'll want to refresh yourselves after your journey.”

 

“Thank you, Daran,” Kira said, stepping to the fore of their small group. “This is Doctor Julian Bashir,” she gestured at Julian. Garak noticed the shift in expressions. They knew very well who Julian was, and they respected him greatly. “Deep Space Nine's Security Chief, Odo,” she continued, and they seemed to know who Odo was, too, “and Garak, the tailor who lives on the station.” Oh, yes, they knew who he was, also, all but two of them showing a subtle negative reaction. He knew Odo would see it, but he wondered about Julian and Kira. He was more curious about the two who didn't react than those who did. He inclined his head in the traditional way of his people and followed along with them.

 

The heavy wooden doors swung shut behind them, closing with a dull thud. Garak felt a small shiver crawl over his scalp. He never liked that sound. It didn't matter that the courtyard was spacious and laid out in a pleasing way. There was a closed, locked door at his back, and tall, thick walls encircled the monastery compound. He focused instead on the sky above him with its lacy tracery of high white clouds. It was too blue by far and more humid than he cared for, but he breathed the fresh air deeply, regretting when they led the group inside.

 

The wide foyer smelled of jumja wax candles and mapa bread. One of the vedeks who hadn't shown a negative reaction to Garak stepped to his side. He tensed slightly. “I'll be taking you to your quarters,” the woman said to him pleasantly.

 

“You'll be taking us to our quarters,” Odo corrected her, stepping up beside Garak.

 

“Of course,” she said, not missing a beat. “Right this way, but if you change your mind, we do have a room set aside for you.”

 

“I won't be changing my mind,” Odo grated.

 

“I'll catch up to you in a bit,” Julian called to him as he and Major Kira were led toward a different corridor.

 

He didn't like to admit how glad he was that Odo was there. The entire situation had him on edge. He had no faith in the inherent goodness of vedeks, or any other sort of priests for that matter. He had even less faith in Bajorans and their intentions when it came to him. He and Odo followed the woman down a narrower, darker passageway. The scent of bread and candles faded, replaced with the dry scent of dust. Looking down, he noticed that a thin layer of it lined the floor, interrupted at the center by the recent passage of feet, not including their own.

 

“Here we are,” she said, opening the arched door and letting the two precede her inside the small room. It had no window and a somewhat stale scent, although someone had tried to remedy that with a plate of freshly picked leaves of some sort. Their astringent fragrance lent an antiseptic touch, not at all pleasant to his refined sense of smell. The bed didn't seem to belong in the room, as it was cleaner than the rickety shelves lining the wall opposite it. Something had been stored on those shelves that was no longer there, recently removed if he was to believe the dust rings illuminated by dim, yellowish artificial light.

 

Hiding the silver while the riff raff comes to visit? He thought sardonically.

 

“We thought you might be more comfortable away from the main areas of foot traffic,” she explained solicitously. “If you'd prefer other quarters, it can be arranged, of course.”

 

“No,” he said, “this is fine. Thank you for your hospitality.” He was careful to keep his internal sarcasm to himself. Sticking someone in what was obviously an old storeroom was anything but hospitable by any standards of which he was aware.

 

She pressed her hands together and gave him a small bow. “You're free to explore the grounds as you like, but please be back within the main building by sun down. We lock the doors then, and we don't open them again until morning. Also, please stay away from the temple. We're asking that everyone except members of our order stay out.”

 

“Understood,” Odo said, setting his bucket down beneath the lowest shelf.

 

“If you need anything, ask for Alith. That's me,” she said, gifting both of them a pretty smile and hurrying away.

 

“I suppose I'm expected to find the facilities while I'm 'exploring',” Garak said dryly.

 

Odo snorted softly. “I wouldn't recommend you do too much wandering about. No matter what she said, I get the feeling they won't appreciate running into you unexpectedly.”

 

“Really?” Garak asked, giving the changeling his best innocent face.

 

“Don't start, Garak,” he said, shaking his head. “My job is going to be difficult enough as it is. I don't like the way they were looking at you.”

 

“Alith and my unknown male admirer?” he asked.

 

Odo favored him with a long, considering look. “Exactly.” With a wet sound, he shifted to golden liquid and snaked about Garak's waist. Seconds later, Garak had a new belt.

 

He sighed, feeling very put upon. Having Odo look out for him was one thing. Having to wear Odo was another matter. “Really, Constable,” he said testily, “if you're going to do that, at least match my shoes.”

 

The belt buckle formed a mouth, “Garak...” it warned.

 

“I'm serious!” he said. “No one will believe it isn't you, otherwise.”

 

“Fine,” the belt said with Odo's voice, rippling and changing to an exact match of the material of his ankle boots.

 

“Also, Constable, if you could try not talking? Having a conversation with my belt is a tad too surreal for my taste at the best of times, and this is not the best of times.”

 

“Hmph,” it said and then stilled, the buckle reshaping to resemble plain metal.

 

Garak picked up the plate of leaves and headed back down the corridor. As he walked, he took a close look at the tracks in the dust. As far as he could tell, they happened when a couple of people were bringing the bed. Here and there, he saw where they may have set it down and a couple of spots where a leg briefly dragged. He bent and swiped a finger over one of the drag marks. No dust. So the bed was moved very recently, probably when they were informed he was coming.

 

He emerged back in the foyer, looking for a place to dump the smelly leaves. He almost bumped into Kira and Julian as they emerged from their wing. “What are you doing with a plate of deka leaves?” Kira asked.

 

“Trying to dispose of them, Major. They were in my room, and I'm afraid I find the scent unbearable.”

 

She briefly tucked her upper lip behind her lower teeth. “I wouldn't move those if I were you,” she said.

 

“Why not?” he asked.

 

“They're usually used to keep vermin out. If they had a plate in your room, you might be subject to night visitors without them,” she replied. “Where is your room, anyway, and for that matter, where's Odo?”

 

The belt squeezed him lightly. He almost jumped, pushing his stomach out forcefully as though to say, Stop that! “My room is down this way,” he showed her the corridor. “As for the Constable, I believe he's off somewhere getting the lay of the land.” He eyed the leaves and considered. “Are you sure they aren't just trying to send me a message, Major?” he asked.

 

She made an impatient noise. “They're not like that here,” she said, snatching the plate out of his hand. A few thin leaves drifted downward. “Come on. I'll show you.”

 

Cutting a glance at Julian, he followed in her wake, regretting his decision more and more by the moment. She shoved open his door and immediately began looking along the base of the walls close to the floor. “Aha,” she said, pointing. “There. You see that?”

 

He dutifully looked and noticed a small, unevenly gnawed hole. He frowned, “Why don't they stop it up with something?”

 

“Because if they do, it will just chew another hole somewhere else,” she said, glancing around the small room. She frowned slightly and set the plate near the hole. “I could have them give you another room. This looks like some old storage room. If they were keeping food in here, the leaves might not be enough to stop the tikkas.”

 

“What happens if these...tikkas...come into my room in the night?” he asked warily.

 

“They won't hurt you, but they might get into your things. If they do, they'll shred your folded clothes and scent mark. It's...hard to get out.”

 

Lovely, he thought. “No, Major, I don't want to be an imposition on the vedeks. They went through the trouble of getting the bed in here. It would be rude of me to turn my nose up at the accommodations.”

 

“It's rude of them to stick you in a storeroom,” Julian murmured. Garak shot him a warning look.

 

She lifted his bag from the bed and stuffed it on the highest shelf. “They'd have a hard time getting to it up there,” she said. “That should keep your things safe for the short amount of time we intend to be here. Did Alith show you where the communal facilities are?” He shook his head. “Come on then. I'll take you there.”

 

“I'm going outside to get some fresh air,” Julian said. “You can come find me later if you like, Garak.”

 

“Thank you, Doctor,” he said politely. He didn't know if Julian had told Major Kira or Odo yet that they were back together, and being private as a rule, he didn't intend to show it overtly, particularly given the circumstances.

 

He followed Major Kira down the wider, better lit corridor all the way to the end. They turned right, and she pushed open a heavy door. “You're aware that there are no differentiated facilities for men and women here, right?” she asked him.

 

He hadn't been aware, but he was glad to be told. “I am now, Major,” he said. “Thank you. Is there anything in particular I should avoid doing so as not to offend?”

 

“Basically just don't stare,” she said with a one shouldered shrug. “And don't be afraid to call anyone out for staring at you. They all know better, even the prylars.”

 

He nodded, taking this all in with more outward calm than he felt. Cardassians were a modest people. They didn't readily reveal their bodies, only to close family and lovers, and only in certain circumstances. He didn't like the thought of being walked in on while cleaning himself or in a more vulnerable state of relieving himself. She didn't have to worry that he'd stare. He didn't think he'd be able to lift his gaze from the floor if anyone else were present. He became aware that she was observing him and was immensely grateful for the fact that except in very specific circumstances, Cardassian skin wasn't given to changing shades.

 

“I know it's not...easy...for you to be here,” she said. “When Julian approached me about it, I wasn't thrilled, but...I appreciate the gesture, and I think at least some of my people will, too. I know you're taking a risk. I just...wanted to tell you that.”

 

“Thank you, Major,” he said, inclining his head deeply. “The vedek was a credit to your people.” They held eye contact for the space of a few breaths, something passing between them, although if asked, he couldn't say what.

 

She let out a breath he hadn't been aware she was holding. “I think I'm going to go meditate for a while in my room,” she said. “Would you have Odo or Julian come get me if I don't show up for supper? Sometimes I fall asleep if I go too deep.”

 

“Of course,” he said. They parted company in the corridor. He caught a glimpse of her room as she slipped through the door. It was sunlit and spacious, filled with flowers, and immaculate. If he had needed any further confirmation that Bareil's people were slighting him, that was it.

 

Sighing to himself, he pushed open the heavy front door and walked out into too bright sunlight. Then again, maybe they were trying to be accommodating in their own way. They surely knew of Cardassian sensitivity to bright light. If all of their guest rooms had windows, he would be subject to intense discomfort either in the morning or the afternoon, depending upon which way his window faced. So early in the game, it was impossible to discern their true intent.

 

His feet found a worn path that didn't easily show in the swept dirt of the courtyard. He followed it instinctively, circling around the side of the main living quarters. Dirt gave way to greenery, and as he explored further, he came into what must have been Bareil's arboretum. He had heard several of his customers speak of it in addition to the Major from time to time.

 

As he stood in the cathedral of green, he thought once again of Tolan. How he would have loved to see this, a magical place of running, brown, dimpled water, bright splashes of color where least expected, and sculptures that blended so well with their surroundings that one could almost believe they grew there naturally. His fingers itched to delve into the deep, black dirt, but he knew better than to do any such thing. He doubted that any of the vedeks would take kindly to a Cardassian imposing his own idea of order in their fallen brother's domain.

 

As he turned slowly in place, taking it all in, he thought he saw a flash of orange through thickly clustered leaves. He strode forward quickly. By the time he arrived, there was nothing there save for one suspiciously bobbing leaf. He tapped his “belt” and felt it ripple in response. Odo had seen.

 

“There you are!” Julian exclaimed so loudly that he jumped.

 

“Doctor!” he said in his most put out tone of voice. “How many times have I told you not to sneak up on me like that?”

 

Julian frowned. “I wasn't sneaking. It's not my fault you can't hear normal footsteps on soft ground. It's truly beautiful, isn't it? A real testament to the kind of man Vedek Bareil was.”

 

“It is,” Garak agreed. “It almost makes me wish that I had the chance to get to know him better.”

 

“Almost?” the doctor asked, stepping to his side.

 

Garak turned to look at a bromeliad perched in the crook of a tree just as Julian tried to slip a hand into his. He pretended that he hadn't seen. “Yes, almost. I don't have much patience for religious twaddle, I'm afraid.”

 

“I'm not religious, myself,” the doctor said. “That doesn't mean we have to treat the Bajoran beliefs with dismissive contempt. After all, there really is a wormhole, and there really are aliens living inside it.”

 

“Exactly,” Garak said, glancing at him by turning his body. It was a rare Cardassian who could turn his head at such a sharp angle. “Aliens living in an artificial construct, not prophets living in a temple. Tell me, Doctor, would you think it rational to worship, oh, I don't know...how about the Q Continuum?”

 

“Of course not,” he scoffed. “But if I didn't know who they were, and I lived somewhere they made frequent appearances without revealing their natures or identities, I might be convinced that they were gods. Is that so hard to accept?”

 

Garak fixed him with a brilliant blue gaze. “Any 'gods' that would allow their people to suffer the way the Bajorans did during the occupation deserve to have a mob at their proverbial doorstep with disruptor cannons and phaser banks, not hoards of worshipers chanting ancient chants and hoping everything will somehow turn out all right,” he said. “We Cardassians did the sensible thing long ago and turned our backs on our goddess as soon as she turned her back on us.”

 

“Your goddess?” Julian asked, intrigued. “I didn't know Cardassians ever had a unified religion.”

 

“Cardassians didn't,” Garak replied mysteriously. He refused to elaborate any further, no matter how Julian hounded him with questions. He tipped an eye toward the sky, judging the light level through the treetops. “I believe it's time for us to go inside,” he said. “We don't want to get locked out here until morning, no matter how lovely it is. I doubt the night insects would be gentle on either of us.”

Julian

USS Defiant Infirmary

Gamma Quadrant

 

Dax's life signs finally stabilized, and the doctor breathed a sigh of relief. It had been bad enough believing that he would lose contact with her for sixty years so that she could stay on Meridian with her new lover. It was much worse seeing her dying for making that decision. He double checked the readings and quietly settled at a console not so far away so that he could continue to monitor her while he updated his medical files and logs.

 

Her loss hit him doubly hard thanks to his own situation. After the station crisis, he had hoped that Garak would be receptive at least to talking again. Every attempt he made was met with perfectly polite stonewalling. He could get the tailor to comment on business, the lack of quality food at the Replimat, and any number of inane and unimportant topics. The instant Julian tried to deepen the conversation, Garak would have something to do, and he would find himself ushered out of his company. After just a few days of that, he stopped going to the shop. It was too painful to get rejected like that over and over.

 

He worked until he heard her stirring. Standing quickly, he hurried to her side and took her hand. “Jadzia,” he said gently, “can you hear me?”

 

She twisted her head and opened her eyes, blinking and trying to focus. “Julian?” she said, her brows furrowing together. “Where's Deral?”

 

“I'm sorry,” he said, hurting for her. “The planet shifted. Something went wrong. You weren't going with it. We had to beam you out of there, or you would have died and everything else would have been destroyed.”

 

She turned her face away from him, tears sliding from the corners of her eyes. He allowed her to disentangle her hand. “I want to be alone now,” she said. “Can I return to my quarters?”

 

“Not yet,” he said regretfully. “I want to make sure you truly are stable first. Just rest for now. Jadzia, I'm so sorry,” he squeezed her shoulder. “I know what it's like.”

 

“No, you don't,” she shrugged him off. “I won't even be able to see Deral for another sixty years. You see Garak every day!”

 

He understood that she was lashing out at him only because she was hurt. It still stung. “Not that it matters,” he said. “He barely even talks to me. You know that.”

 

“If I loved someone as much as you say you love him, I wouldn't be so quick to take no for an answer,” she said harshly. “The one thing I never thought you were is a quitter. You're upsetting me. I don't want to talk about this anymore!”

 

He retreated from the bedside and sat back at his console. The only thing that prevented the exchange from devolving into a full blown argument was the fact that she was currently his patient and in a fragile physical state. How many times had she pushed her company on him the past few weeks when he said he wanted to be alone? Your problem is you're not forceful enough, he thought in irritation. You just go along with it rather than rock the boat, because too much boat rocking leads to too many uncomfortable questions.

 

Maybe it was time to stop being so pliant, and maybe she was right. Maybe he had been too quick to accept Garak's pulling away. Of course the Cardassian had the right to set limits and boundaries. He had the right to get out of a relationship if he wanted out. However, if his honest reason was to protect Julian and not for himself, well, that was bollocks, wasn't it? Garak didn't have the right to make that decision on his behalf. For all of his dry commentary about their “democracy of two”, in the end the decision was anything but democratic. Garak was acting like the Cardassian state. The trouble with that was that Julian wasn't his subject. Maybe it was high time he reminded the tailor of that.
  

Garak

The Promenade

 

The only good thing Garak had to say about the Gratitude Festival's being celebrated on the station was that he saw an enormous jump in business in the weeks leading up to it. Bajorans, Starfleeters, and even some of the other resident aliens aboard the station wanted the chance to look their best. He didn't have to lie to the persistent doctor about not having time to talk to him. He didn't even have time for lunches with Rom. He worked all day every day on the orders, often well into the night, and there came a time he simply had to stop accepting any more. He had to push himself hard to finish the ones he already had.

 

As he walked along the promenade the day of the festival, he looked on with quiet pride at how many people he saw sporting his designs. He had no use for the symbolic purging of past difficulties. The Cardassian mind didn't work that way. Difficulties and pleasures were as intertwined as the fine weave of Deltan silk. To discard one in favor of clinging more tightly to the other was completely illogical. Don't these people realize they are who they are precisely because of their so-called problems, not in spite of them?

 

He noticed something else besides the bright clothing and decorations. Quite a few people were, well, for lack of a better term, in flagrante delicto right there on the Promenade, taking it far further than the dictates of polite society allowed in public. He had never seen such sexual demonstrativeness from Bajorans before, but it wasn't just Bajorans. Also, some of them he knew for a fact to be married to others than the ones with whom they were so shamefully engaged. He readily admitted that he didn't fully understand Bajoran spirituality or celebrations, but all of this seemed oddly out of character.

 

He wondered if he should seek Julian out to let him know that something might be wrong. Right, Elim, the dry thought came instantly on the heels of his impulse, your desire to see the doctor is purely altruistic and has nothing to do with all of these amorous displays. Besides, he's the doctor, not you. He'll know if something isn't right much better than you would. He decided that the best thing he could do would be to mind his own business and just stay out of trouble.

 

Julian

The Infirmary

 

The doctor was in a mood, having seen so many people enjoying themselves at the festival in ways he never would have expected from such a reserved people as the Bajorans. It's really not fair, he thought. Why did it seem that after a break up, the entire world was happier than the one who was dumped? It was bad enough that his efforts to confront Garak had gone nowhere. Now, he had to see all of this? He leaped on the distraction offered by Commander Sisko to meet him in the Infirmary. Now that he was there examining Dax, he considered mentioning something about the inappropriate behavior in the crowd. Nobody likes a whinger, he told himself.

 

All of the scans came up negative. Dax laughed at both men, seemingly very self-satisfied at having played such a good practical joke on the Commander. Rolling his eyes and shaking his head, he sent the two of them on their way. At least somebody around there was able to retain a sense of humor. He rejoined the celebration and tried to enjoy the music and acrobats. He wondered if Garak was somewhere around or had retreated to the solitude of his quarters. He couldn't imagine any Cardassian feeling comfortable surrounded by that many Bajorans. He was glad he had a party to look forward to later. Maybe spending time in the company of all of his friends would chase away his blues.

 

He caught up to Odo and Ambassador Troi on their way to Commander Sisko's party. “Having a good time?” he asked.

 

“It's simply marvelous, Doctor,” the ambassador gushed. “The music, the dancing, the food, and I never knew the Bajorans to be such open, demonstrative people. It's very refreshing to see that at least some races don't have unhealthy hang-ups about intimacy.” She squeezed Odo's arm with both of her own and graced him with a brilliant smile.

 

Julian hid his smile at Odo's expression of long suffering. “I have to confess, it's all a little shocking to me,” he said. “Of course, this is the first time I've actually attended a Gratitude Festival, so I didn't know what to expect.”

 

They saw Major Kira approaching them from the opposite direction, looking anything but happy. She flatly informed them that she had no intention of going to the party, because Bareil might be there and that he had been hitting on Dax all evening. A little concerned now, Julian told them about the supposed practical joke and decided he had best have another look at Dax's results. Just then, a sharp twinge of a headache lanced through his temples. It didn't last long, fortunately. Kira decided to join him, and they parted company with Odo and the ambassador.

 

While they walked and spoke of others who had been behaving strangely, he noticed something he had never noticed before. Kira smelled good, not just good, but wonderful. He wondered how he had never noticed that before and thought that maybe it was just something she was wearing for the festival. When he glanced at her, he saw a small dimple just above her left eyebrow. He had seen it before. It was always there when she was perplexed or disturbed about something. It was cute. He smiled to himself, and when she glanced at him, he widened the smile.

 

They reached the infirmary in fairly short order and stepped into the surgery room. He had every intention of going to the monitors and pulling up the results. Instead, he turned to Kira and drew her into his arms. Alarms klaxoned in every rational part of his mind. What are you doing?! This is insane! Insane or not, he kissed her heatedly, expecting to get slapped across the room at any moment. Instead, she returned it with wild abandon, the two of them stumbling about the room until she came to rest against a console with him leaned against her.

 

He felt embarrassed. This wasn't like him, and it wasn't like her. Why couldn't he control himself? As she pushed her wiry frame tightly against him, his body responded. He ground against her and moaned. She was so beautiful, completely irresistible, and this was all so very, very wrong!

 

Garak

The Promenade

 

Garak had wandered about for hours, occasionally lighting in Quark's Bar, occasionally sitting in the Replimat, and the rest of the time walking freely through the crowd. Even not being part of the festivities, it felt good to be surrounded by a press of happy people for a change. Some of them deigned to greet him with the traditional greeting, “Peldor joi,” to which he responded in kind out of politeness. He enjoyed the fresh food and the music. He tried to ignore those who insisted on going beyond all bounds of propriety with their public displays, and he noticed that many of the Bajorans in the crowd looked upon these couples with extreme distaste and disapproval. If the couples believed their behavior was within the bounds of what was expected at the festival, obviously many of their fellows heartily disagreed.

 

He turned a corner just in time to see one of his customers get punched squarely in the nose by a man who then turned back to kissing the customer's wife with shameless abandon. Their two children cried, hugging each other off to the side and looking on in horror. Stunned, Garak hurried forward and knelt beside his downed customer. “Let me see your face,” he said, pulling his bloodied hands away. “I think your nose is broken. We should get you to the infirmary.”

 

“Not before I kill him!” the Bajoran roared and tried to use Garak to pull himself up.

 

Garak pushed him back with a firm hand to his chest and leaned in very close to hiss, “Your children are watching and terrified, Konil. Whatever wrong you may feel you need to redress shouldn't be done in front of them.”

 

That got his attention, as he had hoped it would. Konil nodded, his anger crumpling inward to confused sorrow. “I just don't understand,” he said. “Jeldon is my friend. How could they betray me this way?”

 

“Hopefully, you can get to the bottom of it later,” the tailor said, offering him a hand up. He turned to beckon to the children. “Come on, now,” he said to them gently. “Come help your father while we take him to see the doctor.”

 

They hesitated but scampered over when their father also beckoned. “I'm all right,” he told them. “I know it looks bad, but Daddy is all right.”

 

Garak carefully guided the man through the crowd, making sure that the little ones didn't get lost in the press. He continued to jolly them along, telling them how brave they were being and that they were almost there. The little girl of the pair latched a hand onto his tunic hem and gripped it tightly. He could see her struggling to fight her tears, and he lightly caressed her hair. “You're a very good girl,” he said. “There's nothing to be scared of now.”

 

There was no one to be seen in the front of the infirmary. “If you'll wait here just a moment,” Garak told the bleeding man and the children, “I'll see if there is anyone here to help you. If not, I'll make sure to call for someone.” The man and the boy nodded, but the little girl insisted on coming with him. Garak glanced at Konil who gave silent assent. “All right, then, you can help me,” he said. He raised his voice. “Hello? Is anyone back here?”

 

They walked into the surgery area, and he froze in disbelief at the sight that greeted him, Julian and Major Kira locked in the same sort of passionate exchange he had been seeing all over the festival. The little girl tugged on his tunic. “That man is doing the same thing Mister Tull was doing to my Mommy!” she exclaimed.

 

“I see that,” Garak said, keeping his alarm out of his voice. “Would you please do me a favor and go make sure your father is still all right? I'll be right behind you after I talk with this nice man and woman.”

 

She hesitated, then nodded and trotted back the way they came. “I hate to...interrupt...but a gentleman needs your help with a broken nose,” Garak said. Neither of them reacted to him. “Julian?” he said sharply.

 

“Later!” the doctor snapped, looking irritated and going right back to kissing Kira the moment he got the word out.

 

Unsure of exactly what might be causing the situation, Garak backed away. If it was some sort of infection, he didn't want to contract it. If it was a drug, perhaps something in the food, he might already have it in his system, or perhaps it didn't affect Cardassians. Either way, he knew he'd get no help from the doctor in that state, and it was too upsetting to see him with Kira like that, in control of himself or not.

 

“Change of plans,” he told the trio as he returned to them. “We're going to my shop. I have a medkit there, and I know a bit about first aid.” He allowed the man to throw his free arm about his shoulders for support. “You hold on tight to your father's tunic,” he told the little boy, “and you hold to mine,” the little girl. “Don't let go.”

 

As they stepped back out into the crowd, Garak leaned close to the Bajoran once more and said, “For what it's worth, I don't think that your wife and your friend are in control of themselves. Something is affecting people badly, either a disease or a drug of some sort. I found two people kissing in the surgery room that I am quite certain would never normally do that with one another.” He was glad to see the relief the news brought the man. Considering how painful what he had just seen had been to him, he knew it was worse for Konil with his wife.

 

He took the three to the back of his shop, making sure they were all safely locked inside just in case. “You know what?” he said to the children, “I'm not completely sure my doors locked out there. Would you both please run check for me? You'll have to pull on each door. They're old, and the locking mechanism is a little rusty.” They trotted toward the front, no longer hesitant to do his bidding. As soon as they were gone, he turned back to his customer. “This is going to hurt, I'm afraid. I need to pop the bone back into place. You'll want to have a real doctor look at it before it fully heals, or it will heal crooked.”

 

Before he could do it, Konil grasped his hand. “Thank you,” he said, his words congested and distorted, “not just for helping me, but for being so kind to my children.”

 

Garak smiled faintly. “Cardassians like children, too, Konil,” he said. He swiftly popped the bone, feeling the Bajoran tense sharply under his hands and then relax in relief. He gave two sprays from a small canister in the medkit into each nostril to stop the bleeding. He was done with the worst of the ministrations by the time the children returned to tell him they couldn't budge the doors. “Good,” he said. “Thank you for helping me with that.”

 

He straightened and replicated each of them a bowl of pudding and got them to sit out of the way on the floor to eat it. “I'm going to help your father get cleaned up,” he said, “and find him a new tunic. Can you two be very good and stay put?”

 

They nodded earnestly. He smiled and crossed back to the replicator to obtain a bowl of warm water for the blood that had begun to cake and dry. By the time he sent the trio on their way with a warning to the father to return to their quarters and to stay away from his wife and his friend at least for the time being, he had Konil looking presentable and the kids calm, if not happy. He decided he'd do well to stay put in the shop. Every exposure to others increased the chance of his being affected by whatever strange affliction it was. He didn't want to find himself clenched in an embrace with a married Bajoran or worse one of the Starfleeters.

 

Julian

Ops

 

The doctor knew that Major Kira usually arrived very early for her shift, often before the rest of the officers. In fact, he was counting on it. Despite knowing that most of the drama that happened at the festival centered around Ambassador Troi's infection with Zanthi fever and her displaced amorous intentions with Odo, he felt lingering awkwardness. He could tell that many people did, and he thought that if they talked about it, it might clear the air a little. He nodded a greeting to the two ensigns going about their business and turned to face Kira when she entered from the turbolift.

 

She hesitated a beat before striding over to him. “Julian?” she said, looking up at him expectantly.

 

He cleared his throat. “I was wondering if...if perhaps you wanted to talk about what happened at the festival.”

 

She smiled brightly, a hard gleam in her black eyes. “Ab-so-lutely not,” she said.

 

“Um, me neither,” he mumbled, feeling his cheeks color. “So we're all right?”

 

“Mmhmm,” she said, nodding vigorously.

 

“OK, then, I should be reporting to the infirmary in a while. I just wanted to...make sure, because I value your friendship,” he said.

 

Her look softened slightly for that. “I value yours, too,” she said. “It's awkward as Hell to think about it, so I'm just not. Can we both just not?”

 

“I can do that,” he said, feeling immensely better. “Thank you, Nerys.” He walked past her to enter the turbolift. There was one other person he had to see before his shift started, and he wasn't looking forward to it. He burned with shame when he thought of how dismissive of Garak he had been. It didn't matter that he wasn't in control of himself. He recalled exactly what he had said and how he had said it. More than that, he recalled the look on Garak's face. The Cardassian could deny it all he liked. He hadn't set aside his feelings.

 

He stopped by his own quarters first. The tailor had rejected him so many times over the past several weeks that it was getting harder to work up the courage even to try. He had been meaning to throw away the data rod upon which Garak had recorded his embarrassingly gushy letter in bad Kardassi. Something had always stopped him. Now he was glad of it, for he hoped to get some inspiration for what to say in reading it again. He inserted the rod into his terminal and watched Kardassi script blossom onto the screen. He peered more closely. This isn't what I wrote, he realized with a start.

 

Swallowing in a suddenly dry mouth, he drew his chair closer to the screen. “My dear Doctor,” it began, “I'm counting on the human tendency toward excessive sentiment to prevent you from discarding this supposed relic of our failed relationship and to insure that you will return to it in time, either out of nostalgia or regret.”

 

He snorted very softly. Leave it to Garak not to spare him even in a letter. The fact that he wrote one at all had him completely off kilter. He couldn't read it very quickly, because it was in the same archaic Kardassi script as Preloc. He did the best he could and resisted the impulse to plug it into the UT. It might miss some subtleties.

 

“At some point in time, I have no doubt that you will realize that even though I have left you, my affection for you has not abated. You are exceptionally perceptive for a human, and I am weaker than I care to be when it comes to you.” Julian felt his breath catching in his throat. He had wanted to hear this so badly. It took everything he had to sit and continue reading, when all he wanted to do was to leap up and run straight to Garak's quarters.

 

“You say that you love me with all of your heart. Coming from anyone else, I would count this as hyperbole. Coming from you, it pains me more than you can know. The young never want to hear this from those older and more experienced than they, but in being so free with your devotion, you are making a mistake. I am not a noble, misunderstood creature who just needs love to reform.

 

“I would do unspeakable things to you if told to do so by those for whom I once worked. I would gladly sacrifice you if it meant going home. I told you of Major Kira's whereabouts not because of sentiment or personal loyalty to you, but because I was told to do so. I do not know why I was given such instructions, and I do not question orders. I never expected to be forced back to Cardassia, and I am surprised that I survived. Rest assured the only reason I did is because someone powerful must want me alive; to what end I cannot say.

 

“You will never be to me what I am to you. You may currently believe that it doesn't matter, and you may be content to accept such little affection as I have to give. As you grow older, wiser, I can assure you that this will change. If I allowed it, you would one day come to realize what a very poor bargain you had made with your love and loyalty, and your open, generous nature would give over to bitterness.

 

“Don't delude yourself into thinking that this is just another of my fabrications. In my weakness, it would be all too easy to fill your head with pretty words and pleasure you enough to pacify any doubts. In this one way, you have managed to do something no one else ever has. You have inspired me to think more of another than I think of myself. If you love me as much as you say you do, you will respect how very difficult that was for me, and you will not make it harder by tempting me to reconsider. I have rarely asked anything of another in my life in the way that I am asking this of you.

 

Elim”

 

“You magnificently manipulative bastard,” he breathed softly, his shoulders slumping. It was as though he knew exactly what to say to pierce the heart of his intentions and kill them unfulfilled. “If you love me...you will respect...” Of course he did, and of course he would. What other choice did he have? Still, just because they were going to admit that a relationship wouldn't work between them, did that mean he had to sacrifice the friendship, too? He tightened his jaw. No, it didn't mean that. He ejected the data rod and slipped it into his pocket, heading for Garak's quarters with a different intention than his original one but no less determination.

 

He was relieved that Garak didn't make him hail him twice. After the first door chime, he heard a fairly cheerful, “Enter.”

 

He did so, spotting the Cardassian at his dining table eating breakfast. The sight sent a pang through him. He missed their breakfasts, stinky food and all. “Please,” he said, “don't get up,” as he saw the man about to rise. “May I?” he asked, gesturing at the chair opposite.

 

“Of course,” Garak said, inclining his head. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit?”

 

He didn't answer him immediately, taking the data rod from his pocket and setting it lightly on the table between them. He took his seat and laced both hands together on the tabletop. “I'm sure you recognize that,” he said, surprised at how calm he sounded.

 

Garak hesitated a beat as though considering what to say. He then nodded. “I do. I was wondering when you'd get around to reading it.”

 

“It would've been too much for me to expect that you'd just tell me you had written me a letter back,” the doctor said with faint amusement. “That's a statement, by the way, not a question. I accept what you said. All of it. I believe you when you say you don't and can't feel the way I feel. I know that where Cardassia is concerned, I come in a distant second.”

 

“I'm glad to hear you sounding so sensible,” Garak said, eying him warily. “Why do I hear a 'but' just dying to follow?”

 

He smiled faintly. “You don't. Well, not entirely. I miss the friendship, Garak. I think it's positively ridiculous for us to take the stance that if we can't be lovers, we can't be friends. We were friends first, after all, and it was rewarding and fulfilling for both of us.”

 

Garak took a sip of his rokassa juice, his expression thoughtful. “I confess I miss the mental stimulation of your company at lunch. Rom is a dear man and intelligent in his own way, but he and I share very few interests. I warn you, Julian, if you're seeking to put a foot in the door with this, I'll see right through it, and I won't be happy with you.”

 

“I know that,” he said, still feeling heavy, but resigned to the reality of the situation. “I'm not entirely happy with this. You know what I'd prefer, but I know that pushing for my preference would just drive a wedge between us altogether. If I didn't think that I would be capable of respecting this boundary, I wouldn't be asking you for it.”

 

The tailor favored him with a long, searching look. He seemed satisfied with whatever he saw, for he nodded and visibly relaxed. “I'm grateful, Doctor,” he said. “It's something I've been wanting to ask you for, myself, but I felt that it would be cruel of me. I know that were situations reversed, I would not appreciate being asked to just be friends if I wasn't ready to take that step. Shall we resume our reading schedules, then?”

 

“Yes, let's,” Julian replied. He felt a small sense of accomplishment, for he hadn't expected to achieve even that degree of success. “Would you mind if I had breakfast with you? I had to get out early this morning, and I haven't had a chance to eat.”

 

“Help yourself to the replicator,” Garak said, gesturing. “I'm glad of the company.”

 

As he ordered his breakfast, the doctor decided against bringing up the issue of what Garak had seen the day of the festival. The tailor wasn't acting strange or strained. He would have heard along with the rest of the station inhabitants that the odd behavior was caused by a virus. Perhaps it was best just to let that one lie. As he sat across from him with his toast and eggs, he asked, “So, read anything interesting lately?”