Star Trek: DS9: What Friends Are For

Chapter 3

A/N: I am still not entirely sure where this is going, but I hope you like it, and thank you for the reviews. :)

"I shouldn't think night will fall too slowly," Bashir mused hopefully. He sighed and watched Garak.

The Cardassian tailor nodded agreeingly. "Hmm...?" he said, having not really been listening to the doctor's words.

Bashir threw him a wry smile. "You weren't listening," he said playfully.

Garak nodded hesitantly. "I do apologise, doctor," he said softly, but Bashir was caught up trying to figure out how genuine the apology had actually been. Garak speaking again disturbed Julian's train of thought. "I would make an awful patient," the Cardassian announced, referring to his ability to pretend to not listen.

Bashir smiled at his friend. "You've already been my patient," he subsequently reminded Garak.

For a short moment, Garak remained quiet. A smile on his lips, he said simply, "I had not forgotten, young doctor."

Bashir nodded and held up his hands, feigning surrender. "I know, I know." He smiled.

"After all, how could I possibly forget that day?" said Garak, and Bashir was left to puzzle over whether or not the alien's words were to be answered or if they were a rhetorical question.

"Cardassians don't forget," was Bashir's response, and to which Garak beamed.

Then, he sighed and laid back against the tree. "It is rather cold," he announced, looking a little contemptuous with his present surroundings.

Bashir raised an eyebrow. "Garak, stop complaining."

"I cannot simply suffer in silence," the Cardassian said with emphasis.

"When it gets dark - finally," Bashir said, trying to reassure his friend, "you'll probably get tired anyway." He wasn't really one for the prospect of having to put up with an inic

Garak did not look particularly convinced regarding Julian's suggestion. "The human mind may work that way, but I assure you, a Cardassian could never be so conquered by his environment."

Bashir rolled his olive-hued eyes. "You're the one complaining of the cold," he reminded Garak.

Garak kept quiet and watched the equally silent trees, annoyed that the young human officer had managed to out-think him. But that would not be for long. Garak tried to formulate numerous comebacks.

"And," Bashir went on, "you have all those scales. All I've got is a blanket and this uniform."

Garak tilted his head to one side, both amused and perplexed. "The scales are not for thermal regulatory purposes," he said bluntly, his pale blue eyes challenging the doctor to give his side of the discussion.

Bashir blushed, his cheeks slightly reddening. "Regardless," he breathed, with an empty gesture of his hands.

"Now who's moaning?" Garak quipped.

Bashir huffed impatiently, turned his gaze up to the skies. "It is certainly getting darker," he decided, but he wondered if he was saying what he was really seeing.

"Ah, doctor," said Garak, sounding deflated. "Your judgement may have been hindered by hope."

Bashir looked back at Garak, considered. "'Hindered by hope'?" he mused, rubbing his chin. "That's quite good. Did you make it up?"

Garak smiled. "Of course," said blandly, his face giving nothing away. "I made it up right there and then."

Bashir rolled his eyes. He sighed, lay back against the tree. Looking up at the stars, he sighed. Finally, darkness had sufficiently won the battle with light and he closed his eyes. Garak, however, was enjoying no such luxury. He was watching Bashir, had been for some time. The doctor lay peacefully, his silver thermal wrap around him protectively like a shiny coccoon.