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seikilosTitle: Addendum - 01. 4x17 "Accession"
Fandom: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Gen
Rating & Warnings: G this part, PG-13 overall. No warnings this part.
Words: 982 this part, ?? overall
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.
Summary: Additions, expansions, and rewrites to various DS9 episodes. 4x17 "Accession": In trying to find a substitute for Chief O'Brien's company now that the Chief's family has returned from Bajor, Bashir turns to his other friends and thereby learns exactly how irreplaceable O'Brien really is.
Author's Notes: DS9 being written in a 45-minute format and being subject to budgets, actor availability, and so forth, there's a lot of stuff that the writers couldn't do that I feel would've made many of its episodes stronger. It's totally understandable--but that doesn't mean I don't want to play with the loose ends all the same.
This one comes from a scene in the episode where, as it says above, Chief O'Brien's family returns from Bajor, meaning he can no longer live a bachelor's life with Bashir. The original scene had Bashir playing darts with Morn the barfly for humour (and probably to give Morn's actor his required appearance in the show), and it was pretty funny, but it also had the unfortunate side effect of making poor Bashir look very friendless. So, I rewrote the scene to include his friends.
...Bashir probably would have been happier if I had left well enough alone. XD
"I don't suppose you'd like to play darts with me tomorrow night, would you?" Julian asked all of a sudden.
Garak gave him an odd look, for which Julian didn't blame him. After all, five seconds ago, they had been discussing the poetry of Akorem Laan in honor of Akorem's return to Bajoran society. "Darts, doctor?"
"Yes, that's right. It's a lot of fun—I think you'd enjoy yourself." He put on a hopeful look.
"I assume this request is because Chief O'Brien no longer has the time to play, due to the return of his family?"
Julian didn't bother to wonder just how Garak had learned about such a comparatively minor station matter. He was Garak: that was answer enough. "Well, yes—but—it would be nice to do something different, wouldn't it?"
Unfortunately, Garak didn't seem convinced. "I think you'd find me an indifferent player at best. It's not a game I have any experience with, beyond occasionally listening to you complain about being beaten."
. . . He was going to ignore that last part. "It's all right—I'll teach you as we go."
He just wanted someone to play with, and what better choice than his oldest friend on the station?
He watched Garak hesitate and pressed his advantage. "Please, Garak?"
He wasn't sure what caused it, but he could actually see the moment Garak gave in, and he only just didn't pump his fist.
"Oh, very well. Just as long as you don't hold it against me if I'm a poor partner," he conceded.
Julian grinned in delight; his expression only grew when he pulled a returning smile from Garak. "I promise."
*
It had all been going so well, Julian thought glumly as their second game progressed. Garak had shown up precisely on time, they picked up a glass of kanar and a pint at the bar, and they'd gone over to the dartboard to begin their games, almost as though this were a routine for them. He'd coached Garak through the first game, and his friend had done respectably well. Julian had beaten him (though he had not . . . quite been trying his hardest), but by a slim enough margin to make the win pleasurable for him and the loss presumably tolerable for Garak.
And then he had started paying a little more attention to the way Garak was lining up his shots.
Specifically, to the way he was aiming to miss.
He hadn't been happy when he'd confronted Garak with this particular fact, and all the soothing Garak had attempted had done nothing to improve his mood. He'd made him promise to play to the fullest of his ability, and after some mild protesting, Garak had agreed.
And now Julian was losing. Badly. He couldn't even pull up his own game to compensate, either, without looking suspicious. He had to simply stand here with his pint and take the crushing defeat like a man.
He really missed Miles.
*
"I don't suppose you'd be interested in the Battle of Britain?" Julian asked Garak once the Chief had dragged away from Quark's, the both of them more despondent than ever.
"I'm afraid not." Garak considered him for a beat, then set the darts he'd been holding on the table with their mostly empty glasses. "And I'm afraid I need to be getting back to the shop. Ensign Doran needs all of his uniforms taken in and he's getting most impatient with me."
You mean you feel sorry for me and are trying to spare at least a little of my pride, Julian interpreted. He was too depressed to be irritated by Garak's pity, though, and so all he said was, "All right. Thanks for the games, Garak. You're a real natural," he couldn't help but add.
Garak spread his hands. "What can I say? Threading needles is wonderful for one's hand-eye coordination."
Julian sighed. "I'm sure it is. . . ."
After Garak had left, Julian wandered upstairs to his and Miles' usual holosuite and came to a stop in front of the door. They'd already paid for the time, so it would be a shame to waste it, but it just wouldn't be the same going through a simulation alone—hmm.
He tapped his combadge. "Bashir to Dax."
"Go ahead, Julian."
"Jadzia, are you on duty right now?"
"No, not for another four hours. Why?"
"Miles can't make our usual holosuite time, so I was wondering if you'd like to join me instead."
Jadzia's tone markedly brightened, and at last, he felt himself smile. "I'd love to—it sounds like fun! I'll bring my bat'leth. Dax out."
There, Julian thought as he keyed in his access code, suddenly much happier. Today wasn't going to be such a waste after all.
*
"Come on, Julian, put your body into it!" Jadzia encouraged at top volume as she gutted another holographic Klingon warrior. "You have to use your strength to back up the balance of the blade!"
Julian didn't answer as he—he didn't hide behind his own bat'leth, exactly. He was just defending himself and waiting for the right moment to strike.
He was also trying to come up with a way to explain that he and Miles usually set their simulations on a lower difficulty level so they could play around and have fun without worrying about being handed an embarrassing defeat. Right now, all of his ideas made him look like . . . well, a wimp. He certainly didn't need to do that to himself when these Klingons were very happy to do it for him.
With a shout that probably sounded just as pathetic to everyone else as it did to him, Julian took Jadzia's advice and tried to go on the offensive. This was, he vowed, the very last time he was going to agree to trying one of her programs.
He really missed Miles.
Fandom: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Gen
Rating & Warnings: G this part, PG-13 overall. No warnings this part.
Words: 982 this part, ?? overall
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.
Summary: Additions, expansions, and rewrites to various DS9 episodes. 4x17 "Accession": In trying to find a substitute for Chief O'Brien's company now that the Chief's family has returned from Bajor, Bashir turns to his other friends and thereby learns exactly how irreplaceable O'Brien really is.
Author's Notes: DS9 being written in a 45-minute format and being subject to budgets, actor availability, and so forth, there's a lot of stuff that the writers couldn't do that I feel would've made many of its episodes stronger. It's totally understandable--but that doesn't mean I don't want to play with the loose ends all the same.
This one comes from a scene in the episode where, as it says above, Chief O'Brien's family returns from Bajor, meaning he can no longer live a bachelor's life with Bashir. The original scene had Bashir playing darts with Morn the barfly for humour (and probably to give Morn's actor his required appearance in the show), and it was pretty funny, but it also had the unfortunate side effect of making poor Bashir look very friendless. So, I rewrote the scene to include his friends.
...Bashir probably would have been happier if I had left well enough alone. XD
"I don't suppose you'd like to play darts with me tomorrow night, would you?" Julian asked all of a sudden.
Garak gave him an odd look, for which Julian didn't blame him. After all, five seconds ago, they had been discussing the poetry of Akorem Laan in honor of Akorem's return to Bajoran society. "Darts, doctor?"
"Yes, that's right. It's a lot of fun—I think you'd enjoy yourself." He put on a hopeful look.
"I assume this request is because Chief O'Brien no longer has the time to play, due to the return of his family?"
Julian didn't bother to wonder just how Garak had learned about such a comparatively minor station matter. He was Garak: that was answer enough. "Well, yes—but—it would be nice to do something different, wouldn't it?"
Unfortunately, Garak didn't seem convinced. "I think you'd find me an indifferent player at best. It's not a game I have any experience with, beyond occasionally listening to you complain about being beaten."
. . . He was going to ignore that last part. "It's all right—I'll teach you as we go."
He just wanted someone to play with, and what better choice than his oldest friend on the station?
He watched Garak hesitate and pressed his advantage. "Please, Garak?"
He wasn't sure what caused it, but he could actually see the moment Garak gave in, and he only just didn't pump his fist.
"Oh, very well. Just as long as you don't hold it against me if I'm a poor partner," he conceded.
Julian grinned in delight; his expression only grew when he pulled a returning smile from Garak. "I promise."
It had all been going so well, Julian thought glumly as their second game progressed. Garak had shown up precisely on time, they picked up a glass of kanar and a pint at the bar, and they'd gone over to the dartboard to begin their games, almost as though this were a routine for them. He'd coached Garak through the first game, and his friend had done respectably well. Julian had beaten him (though he had not . . . quite been trying his hardest), but by a slim enough margin to make the win pleasurable for him and the loss presumably tolerable for Garak.
And then he had started paying a little more attention to the way Garak was lining up his shots.
Specifically, to the way he was aiming to miss.
He hadn't been happy when he'd confronted Garak with this particular fact, and all the soothing Garak had attempted had done nothing to improve his mood. He'd made him promise to play to the fullest of his ability, and after some mild protesting, Garak had agreed.
And now Julian was losing. Badly. He couldn't even pull up his own game to compensate, either, without looking suspicious. He had to simply stand here with his pint and take the crushing defeat like a man.
He really missed Miles.
"I don't suppose you'd be interested in the Battle of Britain?" Julian asked Garak once the Chief had dragged away from Quark's, the both of them more despondent than ever.
"I'm afraid not." Garak considered him for a beat, then set the darts he'd been holding on the table with their mostly empty glasses. "And I'm afraid I need to be getting back to the shop. Ensign Doran needs all of his uniforms taken in and he's getting most impatient with me."
You mean you feel sorry for me and are trying to spare at least a little of my pride, Julian interpreted. He was too depressed to be irritated by Garak's pity, though, and so all he said was, "All right. Thanks for the games, Garak. You're a real natural," he couldn't help but add.
Garak spread his hands. "What can I say? Threading needles is wonderful for one's hand-eye coordination."
Julian sighed. "I'm sure it is. . . ."
After Garak had left, Julian wandered upstairs to his and Miles' usual holosuite and came to a stop in front of the door. They'd already paid for the time, so it would be a shame to waste it, but it just wouldn't be the same going through a simulation alone—hmm.
He tapped his combadge. "Bashir to Dax."
"Go ahead, Julian."
"Jadzia, are you on duty right now?"
"No, not for another four hours. Why?"
"Miles can't make our usual holosuite time, so I was wondering if you'd like to join me instead."
Jadzia's tone markedly brightened, and at last, he felt himself smile. "I'd love to—it sounds like fun! I'll bring my bat'leth. Dax out."
There, Julian thought as he keyed in his access code, suddenly much happier. Today wasn't going to be such a waste after all.
"Come on, Julian, put your body into it!" Jadzia encouraged at top volume as she gutted another holographic Klingon warrior. "You have to use your strength to back up the balance of the blade!"
Julian didn't answer as he—he didn't hide behind his own bat'leth, exactly. He was just defending himself and waiting for the right moment to strike.
He was also trying to come up with a way to explain that he and Miles usually set their simulations on a lower difficulty level so they could play around and have fun without worrying about being handed an embarrassing defeat. Right now, all of his ideas made him look like . . . well, a wimp. He certainly didn't need to do that to himself when these Klingons were very happy to do it for him.
With a shout that probably sounded just as pathetic to everyone else as it did to him, Julian took Jadzia's advice and tried to go on the offensive. This was, he vowed, the very last time he was going to agree to trying one of her programs.
He really missed Miles.
