Chapter Text
Garak had been away from the station for two weeks: a “business holiday”, he had called it. He’d been meaning to go to Trill for a while (Jadzia Dax was one of the few crew members who actually knew how to dress off-duty). So when the occasion had presented itself –
The occasion of his wanting desperately to take a holiday from Deep Space Nine, the place where he had spent the last five years of his life because of Enabran Tain.
Tain, who was now dead.
Garak got another cup of tea from the replicator, then resumed his seat by the window, watching a tiny speck slowly turn into the station he so loathed. He groaned quietly to himself.
It wasn’t as though he hadn’t been happy to leave Trill again. Two weeks had really been enough. Their fashion industry was, as he had hoped, very interesting, and he had left with dozens of new rolls of fabric in tow. But, oh God, the people – all that frankness, all that peaceful friendliness, and then the occasional telepath who would turn his head as he passed and give him one of those infuriatingly compassionate looks.
So now he was going back to the only place where he had some purpose. The irony of it did not escape his notice – a Cardassian space station under Bajoran and Federation control, and it was the only place he did not feel entirely unwanted, or worse, ignored. Here, at least, he could enjoy the speculation about who he was, or had been. And people were friendly for the most part, even the Bajorans.
Stop it, he told himself. It’s a nice lie, but it won’t hold up under your scrutiny. He didn’t feel comfortable here, and he never would.
There was only one person on the station whom he had begun to think of as a friend, and it turned out that person was so interchangeable that Garak hadn’t even noticed he had been replaced by a Changeling for a whole month.
How had it escaped his notice? His notice? It was embarrassing. He had made it one of his rare hobbies on the station to find out what made Julian Bashir tick, and he’d been sure he had him mostly figured out. And yet, a Founder had been able to trick him.
Perhaps Garak had simply been wishing for a companion who could match him in intelligence and wit, and had projected a lot of his wishes into a mostly empty shell. A boring, nondescript human. Courageous, of course, and moral, and everything humans prized in themselves.
But really, the Founders had been more perceptive than he had, and chosen a proper average Joe.
“Docking in five minutes,” the captain of his freighter announced over the intercom.
Garak frowned. This gloomy mood he was getting himself into wasn’t going to make the readjustment to Deep Space Nine any easier. Time he returned to thinking of all the excellent new clothes he would be making with his Trill fabrics. Perhaps he could get Lieutenant Dax to model for him. Yes. He was sure she would be delighted.
***
Transporting all the rolls from the dock to his shop had taken longer than Garak had expected. He tipped the ensign who had helped him generously, then busied himself with tidying up the shop.
He was a little surprised that Doctor Bashir hadn’t shown up to say hello yet; they’d nodded at each other as he’d walked past the infirmary, but he had been too busy to step in. The doctor, though, hadn’t looked overly busy.
He’d thought, in his assessment of the other man’s character, that Bashir was one of those dutiful friends who went out of his way to be warm and welcoming. Hadn’t the human noticeably increased his efforts to be nice to him ever since he’d found out about Garak’s implant?
Oh well, he might just as well go down for his routine check-up, which was compulsory after off-station trips.
When he arrived at the infirmary, however, Doctor Bashir had already gone off duty, as one of the nurses informed him. How strange.
Strange, also, how cold she appeared when she said the doctor’s name.
Every single one of Garak’s former-spy’s senses seemed to be screaming at him that he had missed something big.
***
He went to Ops to report back to Captain Sisko. The Captain had seemed wary of letting him out of his sight, something that Garak had to admit to himself secretly pleased him. However, one of the Captain’s terms (thinly veiled as requests) had been to report back immediately, and Garak was nothing if not obliging.
“I hope the station fared well in my absence?” he asked in his usual cheerful manner, after Sisko had welcomed him back in his own way (which was more like grumblingly acknowledging that the other man still existed). “Any news?”
Sisko raised his eyebrows. “Anything particular you are interested in, Garak?”
Ah. There was something particular, then. Otherwise there was no reason for him to be asking this question.
“Oh, not me,” he said, smiling and performing one of his little head-bows that he knew humans found so irritating. “I have a simple businessman’s interest in what goes on in my customers’ lives.”
Sisko stared back at him, then almost smiled. “Of course you do.” He paused. “Have you seen Doctor Bashir yet?”
Oh, the Captain was really not as stupid as he sometimes pretended to be. “Not yet, no.” His upward intonation implied that he was open for any news regarding the doctor.
“Well, if you haven’t been following the Federation news, you might want to enter his name into the news search.” Sisko shrugged. “Or you could ask him. But he’s been a little withdrawn lately.”
Garak nodded slowly. “Thank you, Captain.” He made to leave, when Sisko called him back.
“Do me a favour,” he said softly, “and don’t make this any harder on him than it already is.”
Garak smiled. This was really very intriguing. “I will do my best, Captain.”
***
Garak closed the article he had been reading with a tap of his finger and leant back in his chair, staring out at the stars. A chuckle escaped his lips, then another. It wasn’t very long before he laughed out loud, a real, proper belly laugh. He couldn’t even remember his last one.
Well now. Who would have thought. To be surprised at his time of life, and with his experience, it was a rare treat, and the dear doctor deserved some special reward for this.
But first, he would have to think about how to proceed.