Lost in Translation: A Garak/Bashir Fanfic

Chapter 1/4

The Promenade was relatively deserted this late afternoon: Julian Bashir hadn't been on Deep Space Nine long, only a little over a week and a half, but he was already beginning to learn the rhythms of life aboard it. As he walked down the station's commercial hub he noted that even the crowd at Quark's was less dense than usual, although a bullet-headed alien in heavily padded clothing who seemed to make his home there was sitting at the bar in his habitual seat, listening to Quark, who was leaning close to him with one elbow on the bar and speaking intently. The Ferengi's eyes, scanning the hallway outside his establishment while he talked, caught sight of Julian and lingered on him; Julian flashed a friendly smile in response, in spite of the stern warning Odo had issued to all incoming Starfleet personnel that Quark wasn't to be trusted as far as one could throw him. After all, Julian would be living here for the foreseeable future: it just made sense to be on as good terms as possible with everybody, no matter how shady their occupation.

Which explained where he was going right now, actually. His duty shift in the Infirmary had just ended and he had no plans for the evening — and he had a debt of gratitude to discharge. He hadn't spoken to the tailor Garak since the nasty business with Tahna Los had been concluded two days ago, but nobody else seemed inclined to thank him for his help in bringing the terrorist to justice and Julian felt that he deserved a drink at Quark's, at the very least.

So here he was, heading toward Garak's clothing shop with his heart rate higher than normal and a ball of tight anticipation in his throat. He hadn't had much interaction with the Cardassian thus far, but what little he'd gotten had taught him that Garak was brilliant, highly adept and undoubtedly very dangerous. Common sense dictated that he stay as far away from the man as possible now that their necessary association had run its course, but... well, if Julian had been utterly wedded to common sense and safety he wouldn't be out here on the frontier in the first place. He'd come seeking adventure, and every instinct told him that Garak was a nexus for all sorts of exciting possibilities.

Hell, it had all been there in the first two minutes of their acquaintance: the fearless approach, the double meaning behind every gliding word, the weight of Garak's hands unexpectedly laid on his shoulders, almost making him jump out of his skin. The memory of the thrill of it all still set up eager shivers in his core. He had to see where it would lead — assuming that Garak was interested in having anything to do with him. He desperately hoped that he would, and part of tonight's conversation over drinks would include his efforts to convince Garak that he was still a valuable contact to have in Starfleet. He'd considered various ways to do it subtly, but considering that Garak was clearly a master at layering conversations with different meanings he'd decided, almost certainly, to not try to beat him at his own game. Simple honesty, that was the best way to go: I was thinking we could meet for lunch, say, once a week — just to keep in touch, you understand...

Garak's Clothiers was only four units down from Quark's, and to Julian's relief — and excitement — it was clearly open for business. He found himself hesitating, gazing at the light shining through the closed doors as a voice uncommonly like his father's spoke sternly in his mind's ear: Just what do you think you're doing, walking into the den of a snake? But it only lasted a fraction of a second before he squared his shoulders and continued his approach with a determined stride, responding firmly: Nothing ventured, nothing gained — and fortune favours the bold! Besides, I'll certainly be seeing him around the station — am I supposed to spend the rest of my time here avoiding him?

The voice of his father did not respond. The doors opened before him and he entered the shop — only to find it empty.

Surprised, he stopped and looked around. The last time he'd been here the place had been in shadow, but now in good light he was fully impressed by the riot of colour and style on display. The whisper of the doors closing behind him sent a tiny chill up his spine, and prompted another murmur of apprehension:Come into my parlour, said the spider to the fly!

He didn't have time to consciously respond to it, because at that moment Garak breezed back into the front of the shop from an arch at the rear, wearing an expression of polite professional interest. "Good evening —" Then he saw who it was, and the mask of a merchant broke open in a wider smile of apparently genuine delight. "Why, Doctor! What a pleasant surprise!"

Gazing into his merry blue eyes, Julian found himself momentarily tongue-tied all over again and wondered what it was about this man that tied him up in such knots. "Ah. Hello."

Garak approached, that smile never fading. "Come in, come in!" Reaching Julian's side, he placed a hand behind his elbow and guided him toward the shop's central table, which was neatly arranged with folds and drapes of fabric on display. "I'd hoped you'd choose to patronize my humble establishment. Tell me, what can I do for you today? A new shirt, perhaps?" He stepped away, removing his hand from Julian's arm, and picked up a swath of white fabric that shimmered with opalescence. "I've just received this spider silk from K'r'r'auss III — beautiful, well-wearing, and it would certainly complement your complexion."

The Cardassian's touch had sent a warm flush through Julian's entire body, and the loss of it a shock of complementary cold. He finally found his voice again: "Um — some other time, perhaps. I'd actually come by to invite you to join me for a drink."

Garak, who'd draped the fabric over one arm to display it, paused and looked at him more intently. "Did you?"

"Yes." He smiled in a way that he hoped hid his nervousness. "I mean — I owe you that much at least, wouldn't you say? After all, you gave me the opportunity to take part in bringing down Tahna Los, and I think you deserve something for helping us to unravel his plot."

Garak's smile lingered, but it had lost some of its brilliance, and his eyes... his eyes were as keen as scalpels. Julian had to fight an impulse to squirm under their regard. "Do you," he said, and there was something behind his words that Julian couldn't quite discern — but whatever it was, it made every hair on his body prickle erect.

"I do," he said firmly, meeting Garak's gaze squarely.

For a long moment they looked at each other: Julian standing straight and trying not to blink, Garak with the fabric sample still displayed on his outstretched arm. Then the quality of Garak's smile changed again. It grew sly, and secretive — and it communicated a heat that made Julian suddenly want to turn and bolt out of the shop at full speed.

"Well then," the spy said softly, "it would be most ungracious of me to refuse your kind and generous offer, wouldn't it?"

Julian found himself swallowing the lump of apprehension in his throat, and wondered if his father's voice hadn't been right after all. Things seemed to be speeding in the direction of — he knew not what, but the thrill of it was undeniable. Before he could speak again Garak laid the silk back on the table, then walked past him to the doors of the shop and tapped a code into the panel beside them — locking them, Julian realized, an instant before Garak spoke:

"Computer: lights off."

The shop was plunged into darkness identical to its atmosphere when Julian had last visited it. Then Garak was coming toward him again, and Julian opened his mouth to ask him just what the hell he thought he was playing at, only to have Garak continue: "And you certainly deserve my gratitude, dear Doctor, for being such a... willing accomplice."

"Ah." Julian's nervousness was increasing by leaps and bounds. It took all his willpower not to start backing up as Garak drew near. "It was nothing, really, all in a day's work, I was happy to —"

He knew he was babbling and hated himself for it, but at least he didn't do it for long, because Garak came right up to him, took his waist in both hands, and silenced him with a kiss which, while light and rather brief, was downright shocking in its unexpected and stunning intensity.