Chapter Text
Garak’s old shop had turned over again.
When he had last been on DS9, it had been a florist’s shop. Now, it was a travel agency offering tours to Gamma Quadrant locations. He paused briefly in front of their windows to read a bit about their offerings. New Bajor, rebuilt since the war, seemed to be a popular destination for cliff diving.
Quark’s, of course, had not changed a bit. Garak wouldn’t have wanted it to, not that he would ever have admitted that. He slid into a seat at the bar. “Kanar, please,” he said to the bartender, who was not Quark. He did not, in fact, recognize any of the current staff. It was possible he might be able to sit here anonymously.
No such luck. Garak had barely managed to take a sip of his kanar when he heard Quark exclaim from behind him, “Garak! I was wondering when you’d be by.”
Garak turned his head. “Hello, Quark.” He found he was less resentful of the intrusion than he expected.
Quark came around the bar. He had a stack of PADDs in his hands, which he set down. “I heard you and Bashir were on the station. It’s been a while.”
“Two years,” Garak said. “We’ve been a bit busy.”
“So I hear. What brings you here now?”
“Just a holiday,” Garak said, neglecting to mention Julian’s appointment with Dr. Girani to test a new seizure medication — or his own rendezvous, arriving shortly. “We were on Bajor visiting the O’Briens, and he convinced me to stop over on our way back to Cardassia.”
Quark snorted. “You really must be in love. I hope I’ll see Dr. Bashir before you go.”
“I’m sure you will. He’s supposed to meet me here in about an hour.”
Quark’s eyes shone with the promise of latinum. “I look forward to it. In the meantime, can I get you anything other than the kanar? Sand peas with yamok sauce, maybe?”
“No, thank you,” Garak said firmly. Quark took the hint and started to turn away, until Garak added, “Quark.”
“What?”
“That warp core signal scrambler you sold me.”
Quark immediately threw his hands up. “All sales are final! If it didn’t work, that’s hardly my ––”
“It worked,” Garak said. “It worked, and I’m not sure we’d have been successful without it. I wanted to say thank you, Quark.”
“Oh,” Quark looked rather flummoxed. “Well, good. You need another?”
“Not at the moment. But I will let you know if that changes.”
“You do that.” Quark turned away to see to another customer, and Garak sipped his kanar. He wondered when Morn had left the station. Garak had generally avoided sitting too close to him, lest he get pulled into an exhaustingly tedious one-sided conversation, but it was strangely disconcerting to not see him here now.
Someone slid into the seat beside him. “Kanar and cola, please.”
Garak turned to look at his new neighbor. “What in all the stars did you just order?”
Kawarda appeared not to have changed at all — unsurprising, given how slowly Vulcans aged. “Kanar is unpleasantly bitter to most species,” Kawarda told him, as though he didn’t know that. “It is only logical to temper it with something sweet and sour, such as Terran cola.”
“Well, at least it isn’t root beer,” Garak sighed, watching with distaste as the drink was placed in front of her. “It is good to see you, despite your appalling taste in beverages. How was your trip?”
“Uneventful. And yours?”
“It has also been reasonably uneventful. We were just on Bajor, visiting the O’Briens in their new home.”
“How are Chief O’Brien and his family?”
“Thriving, actually,” Garak said. “His wife Keiko is working with the Botany Institute on terraforming parts of the planet that are still suffering environmental impacts from the occupation, and Chief O’Brien is teaching special engineering courses at the university in Ashalla. The children love the schools they’re in, and they just finished building their new house in the countryside.”
“I am pleased to hear this. I believe they may be able to return to Earth within the year, but from what you have just said, they may not wish to.”
“I honestly don’t know if they will choose to return, but I’m sure Keiko will be relieved to be able to see her parents in person.” Garak paused and glanced around, noticing the slight uptick in traffic, not to mention the Ferengi waitstaff at the bar. “Would you care to join me in a booth?”
“Yes, thank you.”
The two of them adjourned to what had once been Garak’s favorite seat in Quark’s: a tall red booth in a corner that provided a full view of the bar. Kawarda nodded in approval.
“So, then,” Garak said. “How is life at the Science Academy?”
“Rather more exciting than it was before we met. You will be pleased to hear that our operation is nearly complete.”
“Really?” Garak said, raising his ridges. “Complete?”
“Nearly so. I am, of course, certain that one or two low-ranking operatives have slipped through our fingers, but we are confident that Section 31’s leadership has been dismantled. Many of them are currently awaiting trial in the Federation for various war crimes.”
Garak frowned. “And you trust that those trials will be conducted without undue… interference?”
“Vulcans have been placed in charge of the tribunal.”
“I expect that went over well.”
“It was less difficult than you may imagine. There is some consternation in the Federation about how deeply embedded Section 31 was, and how many people were aware of its existence. We received relatively little resistance from our human colleagues.”
“Hmm,” Garak said, drawing in the condensation on his glass. “And no sign of Agent Craig?”
“None,” she confirmed, and took a sip of her drink. “His information was sound. All six were operatives, and three were highly ranked; all confessed to being involved in Doctor Bashir’s case. They led us to several more operatives we would not have been aware of otherwise.”
“I see.”
“And what of you, Mr. Garak? I see that I am to congratulate you.” She nodded toward his left hand, where he wore a wedding band in the human fashion.
“Yes, thank you.”
“Has Doctor Bashir adjusted to life on Cardassia?”
“He has,” Garak said. “Better than I hoped he would. His colleagues at the hospital sing his praises, and against all odds, we live well together. It is not how I would have chosen to arrive at this point, but we are quite... content.” Happy, even, and Julian would have laughed at him for being reluctant to use the word. Garak could not help feeling like it might be tempting the universe if he did.
“I am pleased to hear this. I have thought of you both often in the past two years.”
“And I, you. Julian is looking forward to meeting you. Ah, there he is now.” Garak raised his hand to catch Julian’s attention. Julian waved back before stepping up to the bar, smiling widely upon being greeted by Quark.
“I have not yet expressed to you my gratitude for arranging this trip,” Kawarda said, while they were waiting for Julian to join them. “But I am very grateful, as is the Science Academy. Such exchanges are unfortunately rare.”
“It was not difficult. Castellan Lang is eager to consult with you in a number of areas. In exchange, I expect you to be the consummate guest.” He said this with some emphasis, eyeing her over the rim of his glass. He’d been clear with Lang about both the opportunities and the potential risk of allowing Kawarda — who certainly had been, even if she was not currently, an operative of Vulcan Intelligence — onto Cardassian soil. Lang, who was interested in building a new kind of intelligence network, as well as eager to cultivate allies in the quadrant, had decided it was worth it.
“Vulcans have strict rules regarding the comportment of a guest. I will not embarrass myself, my government, or my hosts by violating them.”
“Good. Ah,” Garak said, as Julian approached the table with a Romulan ale in hand. “Welcome, my dear.” He got up to greet Julian, who kissed him briefly. “Julian, this is Kawarda. Kawarda, this is my husband, Doctor Julian Bashir.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you at last, Doctor Bashir,” Kawarda said, offering her hand in the human fashion.
“Likewise.” Julian shook her hand and the three of them settled back into the booth. “Garak has spoken highly of you. I’m glad to finally get the chance to thank you in person for the role you played in my rescue.”
Kawarda nodded, accepting the thanks, but said, “It is really I who should be thanking you. Vulcan Intelligence had been at an impasse for some time as to how to deal with Section 31 — and with the ban on genetic augmentation, which had become, in the view of most of the scientific community on Vulcan, illogical. If not for your case, I fear we would yet be at a standstill.”
“Well, I’m glad some good came of it.”
“More than some. I have been following your publications. The work you have done on pediatric radiation sickness, PTSD treatment in high-context cultures, and neurotransmitter uptake disorders have all been fascinating — and in such disparate fields.”
Julian ducked his head. “I wasn’t sure anyone would read my work anymore, much less publish it. Especially since I’m no longer licensed to practice medicine in the Federation. Garak had to convince me to submit the articles at all.”
It had been, in fact, the worst fight of their married life thus far. Garak suspected Julian had finally sent the papers off out of sheer spite, just to prove Garak wrong –– only to have them all accepted with only minor revisions. Garak had to admit that he may have been a little smug about it. Julian hadn’t known whether to be pleased or annoyed.
“I am glad that you did.” Kawarda proceeded to ask Julian a series of questions about the articles, which demonstrated an in-depth familiarity with them. Julian, visibly surprised, settled easily into the sort of scientific back and forth Garak knew he craved.
It was all entirely over Garak’s head, but that didn’t bother him. He enjoyed seeing Julian in his element, and Quark’s provided him with all the people-watching he could want. It had always been a hub for information on the station, which was why Garak had frequented it despite the subpar kanar, the noise, and the vulgarity. He watched at least two meetings that struck him as noteworthy and wondered if Bek would appreciate or resent the tips. Possibly both.
As the evening progressed, Quark’s got noisier and more crowded, and Garak started to twitch. He was relieved when Julian, with a knowing glance in his direction, said, “Why don’t we take this discussion back to our quarters? We can replicate some food, and Garak won’t burst a blood vessel trying to watch all the entrances at the same time.”
“I accept your hospitality,” Kawarda said, and to Garak’s relief, they adjourned to the habitat ring and the quarters they’d been assigned. There, they replicated a rather incoherent, but undeniably delicious mix of Terran, Vulcan, and Cardassian dishes. Rather than return to the scientific discussion they’d been having in Quark’s, Kawarda requested they pull out a kotra board, as she had not had anyone to play against recently. Julian contributed a bottle of springwine he had purchased on Bajor and poured each of them a glass before settling in to watch the two of them play.
Kawarda had always been a worthy kotra opponent, and playing her consumed most of Garak’s concentration. But he was aware, as the evening wore on, that Julian was growing quiet. “Are you quite well, my dear?” Garak finally asked him, in a pause between games.
“I’m fine. Just... thinking.” He sat up. “There’s something that’s puzzled me ever since I heard the story of my rescue. I thought about it again when I read Jake’s most recent article on the revised augment laws, and especially that long interview he did with T’riken. I understand that the Vulcan scientific community considered the ban on genetic augmentation illogical... but it seems to me that there must be something more to it than that. It was a huge risk, given the depth of animosity toward augments and the involvement of Section 31, and the fallout from it has been significant.”
Kawarda was silent for a moment, regarding the reset kotra board. “I should have realized that you would see what others missed, Doctor Bashir.”
“I’m good at looking at all the parts and seeing the whole.”
“Quite.” Kawarda finally looked at him. “If you had to venture a hypothesis, what would it be?”
“I really don’t know. Unless...” Julian blinked. “Is it really that simple?”
“I am afraid that Vulcans are touch telepaths only. I cannot answer without knowing what you are thinking.”
“Pon farr,” Julian said.
There was a slight –– a very slight –– widening of Kawarda’s eyes. “You are well-informed,” she said neutrally.
“It’s not exactly a secret,” Julian said, not sounding especially apologetic. “Just taboo to talk about. I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable.”
“It is unusual to speak of such matters with those outside my own race,” she replied, and though her tone changed very little, Garak could tell that she was, in fact, uncomfortable with the topic. “But you are correct. When Vulcans chose logic, we changed culturally, but not biologically or genetically. We still carry within our genetic code a small, ticking explosive. The technology exists that would allow us to diffuse that bomb, or so our leading scientists believe — but we are forbidden from even conducting the research by the ban on genetic resequencing.”
“I see.” Julian was quiet for a moment. “I hope you’ll be careful. I’ll be glad to see the ban relaxed for the sake of other augments, but I still can’t condone what was done to me — and I know others for whom the outcome was not as successful. The science behind resequencing is far from perfect.”
“Of course it is not perfect,” Kawarda replied, with a faint hint of Vulcan superiority. “We have not been allowed to perfect it.”
Julian’s lips quirked in a barely-suppressed smile. “Of course. I look forward to reading about the research.”
“As do I,” Kawarda said. “I do not think we will need to wait long. Scientists at the Academy are poised to begin the research as soon as the new laws pass, which I expect they will in the next month. It will, of course, take time — public health and safety must be assured, as you emphasized, and I am quite certain there will be resistance from certain conservative factions.”
Garak huffed a laugh. “We know something about that.” He could only imagine the outrage that would result if a similar proposal to change something so fundamental were ever made on Cardassia. But Vulcan pon farr was notable, even when considered in light of the myriad hormonal events to be found in humanoid species, both for being potentially fatal and for being extremely inconvenient. He couldn’t blame them for wanting to put a stop to it, even if Julian clearly had reservations. Shedding one’s scales every two to three years was bad enough.
The hour was late, and Kawarda took her leave soon after, promising to see them at breakfast with Kira. Julian and Garak got ready for bed; Julian was unusually quiet, but he didn’t seem upset, just thoughtful.
Garak checked his messages one last time once they were in bed. “Ah, we have a note from Kelas. I wrote to him earlier to let him know we arrived safely at the station.” The note was addressed to both of them, so Garak tilted the PADD toward Julian so they could both read it.
Dear Elim and Julian,
I am glad to hear you have both arrived safely on DS9. I’m sure that you’re being careful — probably to the point of paranoia on Elim’s part — so I won’t tell you to be.
“I think I’ve been very restrained,” Garak protested, a little indignantly. “I didn’t ask you to restrict your movements or insist on accompanying you everywhere. We even went to Quark’s.”
“Darling, you quite literally microchipped me.”
“You consented to that! And I almost never check the data these days.”
Julian laughed. “I did consent to it. It seemed like a fair compromise when the alternative was armed security everywhere I went.”
The spare room is ready for your return with our Vulcan guest. I’m very much looking forward to you both being home — the house is far too empty and quiet with just me in it. I certainly don’t begrudge your visit to the O’Briens and the station, but I have been counting the days until your return.
“I wish he could have come with us,” Julian said. “Even if it would have made coverage at the hospital very challenging.”
“We’ll make it up to him. A shorter trip on Cardassia, perhaps. The Ba’atan Peninsula is very pleasant in the dry season.”
Until then, I ask that you kiss each other for me. I have traded shifts with Doctor Regek in order to meet your shuttle.
Yours,
Kelas
Julian sighed in contentment, resting his head on Garak’s shoulder. “It’ll be good to be home again.”
“Indeed.” Garak shut down the PADD; he would respond to Kelas in the morning.
Per Kelas’s request, Julian leaned in and kissed him, but only briefly. When he pulled away, his expression had turned thoughtful again. Garak said nothing, waiting for him to bring whatever was on his mind up — or not, as the case may be. “Do you think it’s safe for me to send an encrypted message to Earth?” Julian finally asked.
Garak blinked. “Yes, I think so. Kawarda seemed to think that Section 31 is largely dismantled, and it isn’t as though your location is a secret, despite my best efforts. Whom do you wish to contact?”
“I’ve been thinking about sending a message to my mother. I’ve been thinking about it ever since Keiko’s parents commed while we were at the house.”
“I see. I didn’t realize you wanted to reach out to your parents.”
“To my mother,” Julian corrected him. “And... I don’t know. I’ll never have the relationship with them that Keiko has with her parents. But... she did apologize. She’s never done that before. Maybe after all this she finally understands. I probably won’t ever set foot on Earth again, and I have a hard time imagining her coming to Cardassia, so a message is all it would be.”
“We probably could arrange a visit, if that was what you wanted,” Garak said.
“No, no. A message is fine. A message is... enough.”
“I’ll encrypt a channel for you when we get home,” Garak said. Julian nodded, resting his head on Garak’s shoulder again.
A few moments passed in gentle silence, but neither of them seemed to be drifting toward sleep. Garak cleared his throat. “I haven’t asked how your appointment with Girani went.”
“It went well. The simulations are promising, but of course we won’t know until we try it.”
Garak glanced at him. “You don’t sound as excited as I thought you would.”
Julian shrugged. “I am excited about the possibility of operating again, don’t get me wrong. But I have you and Kelas, I have our home, I have my research and my clinic patients. Being a surgeon again would be a bonus, but I don’t need it. I have everything I need.”
Garak put his hand on Julian’s head letting the soft hair filter through his fingers, and thought of his gardens, waiting for him on Cardassia. He thought of Kelas and cups of red leaf tea in the early morning, and the art museum that had just opened in Kardassi’or, which all three of them had been anticipating. He thought of the house they were building in the Peldar district, and how sometimes he woke up in the middle of the night and thought that this had to be the dream.
“As do I, my dear,” Garak finally said. “As do I.”
Fin.