Chapter Text
Meditations on a Crimson Shadow; A Garak and Bashir Mystery
By JA Ingram
Once my lover, now my friend
What a cruel thing to pretend
What a cunning way to condescend
Once my lover but now my friend
****
But, oh, it's so evil, my love,
The way you've no reverence to my concern.
So, I'll be sure to stay wary of you, love,
To save the pain of once my flame and twice my burn.
Fiona Apple, "Shadow Boxer"
CHAPTER ONE: Conversations in Hell
"Garak's coming..." the old man said as he tossed and turned in his
bunk. "He's coming...he has to come..."
"Tain," Julian said in a low voice, "can you hear me? I need to ask you
some questions." He rested his hand on the Cardassian's forehead and
frowned as he felt the obvious drop in Tain's body temperature. His
scales had a black tinge to them that had him more than a bit concerned
as well.
"Garak's coming soon. He's coming..."
"How long has he been like this?" Julian asked, looking back at the
other occupants of the cell.
"A few days," a Romulan woman answered. "He was working on making a
subspace transmitter from the old environmentals within the wall and he
had some kind of seizure. We've each been taking turns trying to
continue the work but we haven't got very far. Is he going to die?"
Julian checked Tain's pulse as he answered. "He needs immediate medical
attention. I'm fairly certain he's had a heart attack."
"You won't get much sympathy from our captors, I'm afraid."
His head snapped around. "General Martok?"
"Those p'taqs are happy to let him die like an animal," the battered
Klingon spat, giving Bashir a hard look as he stumbled through the door,
his left arm thrown over the shoulder of an equally bloodied Romulan
man. "Do I know you?"
Before he could answer, the Romulan woman rushed over to them. "Regor!
What did they-"
"I'm all right, Kalenna," the Romulan man said, wheezing slightly as he
half-carried Martok to his bunk. "I think they managed to crack a few of
my ribs, but the General took the brunt of their 'training' this time."
Martok sat with a wince. "So you're Starfleet, are you?" he asked Bashir
after he impatiently waved away the Romulans.
"Yes, sir - Dr. Julian Bashir assigned to Deep Space Nine." He paused.
"You don't remember meeting me, sir?"
"No, I'm afraid I don't," Martok replied, rubbing his shoulder.
Julian frowned. He knew the General had been replaced by a Founder, but
he also distinctly remembered Martok earlier cutting his hand open to
'prove' he was not a Founder. If Founders could fake that... "How long
have you been a prisoner here?" he asked.
"Two years, give or take," Martok answered. "Time gets away from you
here after a while."
"Then that means..." He shook his head. "Oh my God. How many Founders
are out there in the Alpha Quadrant?"
"More than we'll probably ever know," Martok said, closing his eyes and
sitting back in the bunk.
"Do you need help-?"
"Help Tain, doctor," Martok said, opening his one good eye and nodding
toward the Cardassian. "The Hadar will soon be here to patch up our
wounds in time for their next 'training' session, but he's useless to
them. They won't bother keeping him alive, but *we* need him conscious
enough to instruct us on how to modify the environmentals. I assume
Kalenna has briefed you on that?"
"She mentioned it in passing."
Tain reached out and gripped Julian's arm tightly. "He'll come."
"No, Tain." Julian turned from the General and looked down at the man on
the bunk. "After all you've done to him, Garak's the last person who
will come looking for you. We need to contact Deep Space Nine or the
Klingons."
He felt the man's pulse again and looked into his eyes. "If we build the
communication device I can try to reach the station - get help."
"We have to reach Garak," Tain insisted. "Only Garak will understand."
"Understand what?" Julian asked quietly, ignoring the others and
concentrating only on Tain. "How could he possibly help us? And why do
you think he'd even bother to help you? You of all people?"
"He'll come," Tain murmured, slipping into unconsciousness. "If not for
me then...for you..."
*****
His office was unusually quiet today; not many patients, all his
paperwork was caught up. This lack of activity is wreaking havoc on my
sanity, Julian thought, as he leaned back in his chair.
He fished the box out of his desk drawer once again and ran his fingers
over Garak's gold lieutenant's pips, remembering his first day at the
Jem'Hadar prison camp over six months ago. He'd done everything in his
power to keep Garak's old spymaster - whom he had later learned was his
father - alive so they could build the communication device and free
themselves. Tain had kept insisting that Garak would save them, and he'd
been right; Garak did save them. But Tain hadn't been right about
everything. Garak had come for Tain but he hadn't come for *him*.
He hadn't even known he was missing. While he struggled to survive on
some damned asteroid in the middle of a nebula, Garak was busy bedding
his doppelganger. He had been angry in the beginning, and he'd had the
right to be angry. Julian had been a member of this crew for five years
and Garak was the closest acquaintance he thought he had next to Dax,
yet no one even noticed he'd been replaced, not even Garak. But then
again, why would Garak want to? After five years of flirtation he
thought he'd finally got what he wanted, even if it was with someone who
just looked like Julian Bashir.
He had felt violated at first, then angry. Angry because...because...
"You still can't say it, can you Jules?" he said under his breath. "Cuts
too close to home, doesn't it?"
He'd been willing to try to salvage something from the wreckage of their
friendship after the initial shock had worn off, but the other man had
cut and run. He'd been gone for more than two months now, going on
three, without so much as a word. No explanation, no goodbyes. Elim
Garak was now ensconced in some damned monastery on Bajor getting on
with his life, while he had been left behind to see his own world
crumble into a million pieces.
After they returned to the station, during the final confrontation with
the Founder who had been impersonating him, Garak had almost been
killed. As he lay dying, he had finally admitted to Julian that he was
in love with him - not the pretender, him. Maybe it was the stress of
his incarceration, maybe it was the shock of holding Garak's limp body
in his arms, but for a moment he'd almost said the words back to him. He
had been planning to when Garak woke up in the Infirmary. He realized
later that it would have been ridiculous. He and Garak didn't belong
together, but he might have done something - said something-
"Fuck," Julian muttered as he snapped the box closed and tossed it back
in his desk drawer. Two months ago Garak had walked away from a
Starfleet commission and their friendship: so why the hell was he
sitting here looking at those goddamned pips yet again?
It wasn't as if he didn't have other things to worry about. His father
was in prison, and his mother had been forced to move in with his cousin
so she could be near her husband. It had also been made clear to him
that not everyone in Starfleet had taken the news of his enhancements as
lightly as Sisko had, and he shouldn't expect to be promoted or even
commended in the foreseeable future, if at all. Because of the
Founders' tendency to replace him, he now had to deal with a new 'point
and check' system in the Infirmary where every sample he touched had to
be verified by another member of the medical staff. And if that wasn't
bad enough, the Dominion War had finally begun. Garak should have been
the last thing on his mind.
But Garak was everywhere. The truth about his abduction and replacement
was classified, so many of the station's residents not in the know still
asked him about his 'fiancé', which had led to more than one awkward
conversation since his return. He'd also had to deal with being assigned
temporary quarters until his had been thoroughly inspected for any
Founder technology or tampering.
Although it had been sanitized and gone over with a fine-toothed comb,
the space had seemed tainted by the thing that had worn his face. New
pictures, most of Garak and the two children the Founder had used in his
deception, looked out from unfamiliar photo frames, a few new
knickknacks graced the shelves in the living area, and, most disturbing
of all to him, he'd found several new outfits that he knew must have
come from Garak. After taking in the changes he'd gone on a cleaning
spree and chucked most of it in the recycler. When he found the clothes
he'd gathered them up in a great armful and began tossing them in,
punching in the recycling code with a great deal of satisfaction - until
he came to the sweater.
The second he touched the silky soft cotton he'd known that Garak had
made it himself. It was a soft bronze color, a color Garak had often
encouraged him to wear in the past. On the rare occasions he'd bought
clothes from the tailor's shop the Cardassian always tried to steer him
toward this very sort of thing and always in the same almost-flirtatious
way. "My dear doctor," he'd say, "why you insist on dressing yourself in
these dreary Starfleet-inspired colors is beyond me. What you should be
wearing is something like this. This color complements your lovely
complexion so well."
Garak always managed to throw him for a loop when he said things like
that. He wasn't stupid; he knew Garak was flirting with him and he had
even flirted back occasionally. It had been a game, but holding the
evidence of how Garak had truly felt toward the Founder - no, toward him
- it gave him pause.
He had walked to the bathroom and held the sweater to his chest. Garak
had been right, he thought. It was a nice color on him. He then went
back into his bedroom and hung it back up. He told himself it didn't
mean anything. The sweater was quite soft and well-made: why be
impractical?
That was what he kept telling himself anyway.
He didn't wear the sweater, though; he just let it take up room in his
closet for the same reason he kept the pips Garak left behind - whatever
that reason was.
Julian had been so afraid to face him that he hadn't even bothered to
visit him when he was recovering from his injuries. Instead, he'd read
and reread Okuna's medical reports over and over again, resisting the
urge to comment or inquire directly as to how the Cardassian's recovery
was coming along. When Okuna did say anything to him about Garak's
condition or state of mind he'd either feign disinterest or assume the
same professional distance he would with any other patient. He did it so
he could keep some distance; regain some perspective. Of course Garak
would assume that Julian didn't want anything to do with him, and at the
beginning he would have been right: Julian hadn't. Once Garak had left
for Bajor, Julian had been relieved that he was out of his life, or so
he told himself at the time, but in the past few weeks he had begun to
feel as if he needed closure.
He had tried to send Garak numerous messages and had even gone down to
the monastery once, but he'd been told that Garak wasn't accepting
visitors. Dr. Okuna had become Garak's Starfleet liaison, but when
Julian had asked him to talk to Garak on his behalf Okuna told him he
didn't want to get in the middle of it. He couldn't blame him. If he
were a young physician just starting out he wouldn't want to be caught
up in his superior officer's unfolding relationship drama either.
Julian sighed and sat back in his chair, rubbing his hand over his hair
in agitation. "Your problem is that you need to get out of this damn
place, Jules," he muttered. "Get laid, get pissed, just get the hell
away from the station."
"Dr. Bashir?"
Julian looked up to see Jake Sisko standing at the door to his office.
He gave the younger man a quick smile, then looked at the chrono. "Sorry
about that, Jake. I guess I lost track of the time."
He got up and motioned for Jake to precede him into the Infirmary. "All
right," he said, picking up a medical PADD as Jake hopped up onto the
biobed. "Let's get this physical done so you can get back to that
girlfriend of yours, sound good?"
"What girlfriend?" Jake said with a dour expression.
"You and Ziyal not seeing one another any more?" Julian asked in a
distracted tone as he picked up a tricorder and adjusted the controls.
"How can we when she's always running off to Bajor to be with Garak?" He
spat out the Cardassian's name as if it were an insult.
Julian looked up in surprise. "Ziyal has been spending a lot of time at
the monastery?"
"Try all of her time, and when she is here all she talks about is Garak
this and Garak that and-" Jake made a disgusted sound in his throat. "I
mean, I don't get it! He's, what? Thirty years older than her? Maybe
it's some kind of, I don't know--psychological thing; like she's looking
for something I can't give her but damned if I know what that is. I
just--I just can't get her to deal with reality!"
"I'm sure that Ziyal is just being a good friend," Julian said awkwardly
as he finished his scan. "Well, you check out so far. Any pains?
Anything you'd like to discuss?"
Jake shifted uncomfortably and stared at his feet saying nothing.
"Nothing at all?" Julian prodded.
"Actually-" Jake bit his lip in consternation.
"Yes?"
Jake frowned, "I mean it's none of my business or anything but, you and
Garak..."
Julian put down the tricorder and steeled himself for whatever came next.
"I mean, I know you guys weren't really...together," Jake continued, his
cheeks darkening in embarrassment, "but when it kinda seemed like you
were, Ziyal sort of lost interest in him, y'know? But now that you
aren't speaking to him anymore--not that I'm trying to pressure you,
doc, but--"
"Jake, I don't think this is a conversation I should be having with
you..." he began.
"Damn it! I'm sick and tired of never being able to- shit!" Jake spit
out then rubbed his eyes as if fending off an impending headache. He
took a breath then looked back up to Julian in apology. "I'm sorry.
Honest, I-I just-" He looked away, his face crumpling with pain. "I'm
just under a little stress right now. Forget I ever said anything."
"Jake..." Julian reached his hand out and placed it on the young man's
shoulder. "What's really going on here?"
"I just...it's nothing. Ziyal and I are just going through a rough
patch." Jake took a shaky breath. "Normal stuff, nothing big. Really."
"If it's bothering you this much, then it's pretty big. If you want to
talk about it--?"
Jake shook his head. "That's okay. I'm late; we're done here, right?" He
jumped off the examination table and headed for the door.
"Jake!" Julian called out. "Don't leave. Just talk to me; let me help."
Jake looked at him then turned his face away, his cheeks dark with
humiliation. "I appreciate the offer, doc, but it's private. I'll figure
it out; just do me a favor and don't tell my dad that I almost lost it,
okay? I need to deal with this on my own for awhile."
"What happens here is just between the two of us," Julian promised.
"When you're ready..."
"Yeah, I know. " he said softly as he left.
Julian stared after him for a few seconds before looking at the PADD
clutched in his hand. "Fuck."
He put it down and went back into his office. Perreira had gone to lunch
and the rest of his staff was onboard the Titan for a meeting. He was
all alone, which was probably for the best. Right now he wasn't in the
best of moods.
Seeing Jake fall apart like that hit him where he lived. He'd been
walking on a razor's edge himself ever since he returned to the station
only to almost immediately have that bastard Zimmerman drag him and his
genetic enhancements kicking and screaming out of the closet. He'd dealt
with it the way he did with anything that bothered him: he turned off
completely. Some men drank, some men got into fights: Julian Bashir
turned into a robot. No emotion was better than having them all rain
down on you at once, he thought. Unfortunately, he was probably past due
for a breakdown and he knew it.
Garak haunted his thoughts and the rage he felt toward the Founder ate
at him more and more as every day went by. Three and a half months - for
three and a half goddamn months he lay in that hellhole and no one even
noticed. What made things even worse was that the thing managed to not
only earn three commendations while using his face but he had completely
destroyed the life he had spent five years building. People actually
liked the damn thing. Hell, from what he heard they liked it better than
they did him.
//Sisko to Bashir//
Julian slapped his comm badge. "Yes, captain?"
//I need you to come to my office as soon as you're available.//
"Perreira should be returning in about five minutes. Is that all right?"
//That would be fine. Thank you. Sisko out.//
Julian frowned. Sisko hadn't sounded happy.
Why did he suddenly feel as though the other shoe was about to drop?
*****
"Six months?!? But sir--!"
"I don't like it either, doctor, but it's out of our hands."
"My father made a deal with Rear Admiral Bennett, sir." Julian said
angrily. "He agreed to plead guilty and serve two years in prison - a
sentence I still believe is overly harsh considering that Garak was
convicted of attempted genocide and only got six bloody months! And
after all that - after receiving how many commendations - saving
countless lives - they want to suspend me for six months?!?"
"Lower your voice, doctor!" Sisko said angrily. "This wasn't Admiral
Bennett's call - or mine for that matter! This came directly from
Admiral Ross."
"Ross?" Julian asked in confusion.
"Apparently, he didn't appreciate me going around him and contacting the
JAG on your parent's behalf." Sisko snatched his baseball off his desk
and began to squeeze it in a punishing grip. "Hard as it may be to
understand this, what's happening is less about you than it is about me."
"He's coming after me to get to you? That doesn't make sense!"
"An admiral's wounded pride rarely makes sense, Doctor," Sisko said in a
deceptively restrained tone as the ball whined in protest. "He didn't
appreciate my leaving a Founder to run rampant on the station for over
three months, and he certainly didn't look kindly on me contacting
Admiral Gilhouley about it and leaving his offices in the dark until it
was all over with. My attempt to save your career by going to Bennett
was, unfortunately, the straw that broke the camel's back." He looked up
at Bashir. "Both times you were at the center of events, and although
neither was actually your fault, the Admiral has decided you have to be
made an example of."
"But six months?" Julian asked incredulously.
"When you came back from the Jem'Hadar prison you were eligible for
ninety days of personal leave," Sisko replied. "When the report was
filed regarding your enhancements, you should have been placed on
suspension until your case files - all your case files - were thoroughly
reviewed by a medical committee. We didn't do either. "You waived your
leave and Bennett didn't see any need to put you through any more stress
given what you and your family were going through. Ross is going by the
book, but I can appeal and do intend to when I get back. At the very
least, I can ensure your suspension is cut in half and have it listed as
personal leave in your record to lessen the stigma."
Julian held back a snort. The stigma? As if being the poster child for
hostile alien abduction *and* a genetically engineered freak weren't
already a detriment? But no, he told himself: the suspension was the
only thing he could control at this time, and even if the 'stigma'
didn't bother him, the risk to his patients certainly did. And the fact
that Sisko was decamping... He looked up at the captain. "You're leaving?"
"Not my choice either," Sisko said, his face darkening. "Colonel Regor
and General Martok requested that I be present at the negotiations to
hammer together the Romulan/Klingon Federation treaty. The Admiral
accepted the offer on my behalf." He sighed and leaned back in his
chair. "Not that I wouldn't have gone anyway. This treaty is vital to
stopping the Dominion from taking over the Alpha Quadrant. I can't not
be there."
"I understand," Julian said. "So three months, perhaps less?"
"I'll try," Sisko said carefully. "Until now I've had a pretty good
track record with the Admiral. If things go well at the conference I
might be able to talk him into dropping this or we can do it the hard
way and launch a grievance. However, we'll have to face the possibility
that you may be gone for the full six months. But you are an excellent
doctor and your record was impeccable up to the time your enhancements
were revealed. More importantly, the plea deal your father made was
negotiated through Starfleet so there is no way in hell the review board
can void it unless they can prove you've somehow abused your position.
We will beat this; it will just take time."
"What about the Infirmary? My patients? The research I'm doing?"
Sisko held up a hand to forestall any further protests. "I'm on your
side, doctor. Admiral Ross," and the man's name was said with a not so
subtle hint of aggravation, "is throwing up a roadblock of policy at us
in regard to your suspension. However, there are ways around it that are
perfectly within common Federation practice and standards. You're going
to be reassigned."
"On DS9?" What as, he asked himself. Maintenance? Official tennis
instructor?
"On Bajor."
"Bajor." Julian thought about that for a second. "You don't mean that
I'm going to be replacing Okuna as Garak's liaison, do you?"
Sisko nodded. "This way you stay close to the station but now your
position falls under Admiral Nechayev's command."
"The whole reason this is happening is because you said Admiral Ross is
unhappy that you've continually gone around his authority. Won't this be
like spitting in the eye of the beast, sir?"
"I'm sure he won't be happy, but since Garak personally requested the
transfer what could I do?" Sisko said with a triumphant grin. "Fleet
Admiral Nechayev's orders are to keep Elim Garak happy right now and she
outranks all of us."
"Garak requested me?" Julian asked in surprise.
"No, but we'll just keep that between us."
A feeling of foreboding came over Julian, "This...might not be such a
good idea, sir."
"This isn't multiple choice, doctor" Sisko said, looking up at him in
mild annoyance. "I need you here where I can use you. I understand that
you have issues with Garak but if you can't get over it here and now
then you might as well pack your bags and catch the first transport
heading to Earth. I'm not going to put my ass on the line if you can't
even be bothered to deal with a little inconvenience or personality
conflict."
"It's not that, sir." Not entirely, anyway. "Garak and I haven't had any
contact in months. I doubt he wants to see me."
"Then he'll get over it," Sisko said dismissively. "Garak is a
professional. He knows your work is important to the war effort and that
you need to be here just in case. While Garak is doing his job I want
you working on the Ketracel white problem. O'Brien has two of his men
loading a runabout with lab equipment now and they'll set it up in the
orphanage's infirmary for you. Okuna is on the Venture for the meeting
with their medical staff so I'll debrief him later this afternoon. You
need to see Dr. Abamandil on the Venture before you leave for Bajor so
pack quickly and tie up any loose ends before you go."
"Doctor...you mean the counselor," Julian said with a frown.
"It's a necessary evil, I'm afraid. As you yourself know, any member of
the crew going on leave due to stress must see a counselor for
treatment. Just do it and get it over with."
"Very well," Julian said, running a hand through his hair and cursing
silently to himself. "Will that be all, sir?"
"That's all. I'll contact you when I get back and keep you informed as
to the status of the review and the appeal. I promise you," Sisko said,
rising from his chair and offering him his hand, "we will have this
settled once and for all. This is merely a temporary setback, doctor."
"Thank you, sir." Julian said, hoping, but not really believing, he
would be proven correct.
******
"This is a load of Mara shit!" Girani exploded as Julian cleaned out his
desk.
"I gotta say, this really bites, doc," Perreira agreed as he set another
box of samples on the hover cart near the door.
"I'm not too happy about it either," Julian said grimly, not even
bothering to correct the nurse for calling him 'doc'. "But those are my
orders and we will all just have to make do."
"But I'm an OB/Gyn, Okuna is a geneticist, Jabara is on maternity leave,
and Perreira...well, Perreira is just useless!"
"Hey!" Adam objected before reaching for another box.
Girani continued as though she hadn't heard. "You're the head surgeon -
Okuna and I can handle most run of the mill surgeries but what do they
expect us to do if-"
"I'm just going to Bajor," Bashir said, cutting her off. "If anything
happens I can be here in less than an hour. It will be fine."
"Did you hear who's replacing Sisko?" Adam asked, changing the subject.
"Shut up, Perreira." Girani growled, pacing irritably.
"I imagine it will be either Worf or Dax," Julian said.
"Wrong," Adam said. "O'Brien was talking about it during lunch. He said
some of the guys on Fig's crew were saying Ross was starting this new
program where we'd be rotating the crews here with the crews on the
ships. Ross said that every other station did it that way and that was
how DS9 was going to be run from now on, too."
"Did this 'Ross' happen to consider that the reason DS9 doesn't do
things the way other Federation stations do might be because this is a
*Bajoran* station or that the captain was just going away for two weeks
at most?" Girani asked sarcastically.
"I doubt it," Julian muttered, then said in a louder voice, "So Captain
Figueiredo is taking temporary control of the station while Sisko's away?"
"Nope, some dude named MacKelroy. Word is he's set to get is own ship
but he's taking over in the interim."
"MacKelroy?" Julian repeated, pausing in his packing. "I've never heard
of him."
"O'Brien says he was an American football player a few years back,"
Perreira said. "Tore out his knee. After it was rebuilt he quit the game
and went into the service. Mostly he's a pencil pusher now but he's
apparently Ross's boy all the way. Kind of an asshole from what I hear."
"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Girani huffed. "What is that Earth
saying? Birds of a feather?"
"More like the Golden Rule," Perreira said. "Ross has all the gold on
his collar so he makes the rules; we just have to live with them."
"While I'm gone I want you to check on these patients especially,"
Julian said, handing Girani a PADD. "And tell Okuna, in case I don't see
him, that I want him to do a follow up on Jake Sisko."
"Did something come up in his labs?" Girani asked, all business.
"Physically he's fine, but emotionally?" Julian shook his head. "He
sounded like he had a lot on his mind when I examined him earlier. Keep
an eye on him, okay?"
Girani nodded. "Anything else?"
Julian glanced at Perreira then back at her. "Try not to kill any of the
staff while I'm gone."
"I'll try, but I can't guarantee anything."
"Oooh!" Perreira pretended to quake in his boots then made a face at Girani.
"I'm so going to miss the witty repartee around here," Julian said dryly
before reaching into his top drawer and slipping the gray box containing
Garak's abandoned pips into his pocket surreptitiously. "Make sure to
load these boxes onto the runabout personally. The men from engineering
have most of the equipment already loaded, but I want to make sure these
samples are secured properly."
"Yes, sir." Perreira said with a snappy salute before he left the Infirmary.
"How that boy ever got this far in the service-"
Julian smiled, "He's a damn good scrub nurse."
Girani grumbled. "Just - get back here soon. It's bad enough dealing
with Perreira but now with Okuna on the way back I feel like I'm working
with the Desidero Brothers."
"Since when do you watch classic Bolean comedy?" Julian asked curiously.
"Since you hired those two idiots," she retorted. "I needed the stress
relief."
"I'll stop by in a week when I come in for my debriefing. Hold the fort
down."
"Julian."
He looked up in surprise.
Girani, always a formal and somewhat acerbic person, reached out and put
her hand on his shoulder. "The captain will fix this. You'll be back
here in a month at most."
He nodded. "Just a vacation. Thanks Mirat, I'll see you in a week."
"See you in a week," she repeated, but he saw the look in her eyes. It
was the same look she gave her patients when she knew there was nothing
else she could do.
Julian pasted on what he hoped passed for an optimistic smile, but in
his mind the words resounded: Girani is trying to be nice to me.
I am so completely fucked.
******
He frowned at the contents of his closet. Dan Okuna had mentioned that
the children at the orphanage were uncomfortable around men in uniform,
but Julian simply didn't have that much civilian clothing. On duty or
off, he'd always worn his uniform. In fact, all he had hanging in his
closet other than his uniforms were his exercise wear - and the sweater
Garak had made the Founder.
As he brought up the clothing menu on his replicator and picked out what
he'd need, he debated whether he should take the sweater with him. He'd
looked up the monastery; it was in the northern continent, and it was
early spring there - early enough for the nights still to be chilly and
even for the odd snow flurry to still arrive. As he carried the hiking
boots, jeans, T-shirts, and a few casual sweaters he'd replicated over
to his suitcases, he looked back again at the closet, then finally
pulled out the sweater and packed it as well, along with a fresh uniform
for his return. He also took out an old pair of jeans he had brought
with him after he had left the Academy. They were his vanity jeans; he
hadn't fit in them in years, but he always kept them around just in case
he ever had the chance to get back into shape. He took them off the
hanger and pressed them against his waist. They should fit, Julian
thought, lifting an eyebrow in surprise when he realized that they might
even be a little baggy on him now. Maybe Miles wasn't exaggerating when
he told him he was looking skinny as hell lately. He and Keiko kept
shoveling food down his throat at every opportunity so he didn't think
he had remained that thin after getting back from the Gamma quadrant. He
tossed them in his bag along with enough clothing so he'd only have to
do laundry every two weeks; if he needed more, he could buy it on Bajor.
If he wound up staying there, that is.
Despite what the captain had said, he doubted his reunion with Garak
would go as smoothly as he hoped. He still had quite a few issues with
the way the Cardassian had left things and from the way Garak had been
rejecting any of his recent overtures, he figured the other man had more
than a few of his own.
Julian hefted his bags and headed toward the turbolifts. One way or
another, he thought, this would end with some kind of resolution between
him and Garak.
"Well Jules, look on the bright side," he muttered under his breath as
the lift doors closed. "You said you wanted to get off the station, right?"
It's just a vacation, Jules.
Fresh air, clean living...Garak.
"Yup," he muttered again, "I'm pretty much fucked."