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seikilosTitle: Connections
Fandom: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Romance
Rating & Warnings: PG (reference to torture)
Words: 4085 this part; 8707 overall.
Disclaimer: I don't own the above media.
Summary: To repair the damage done by its interference in the Demilitarised Zone, the Cardassian government has proposed a marriage-enjoinment between one of its citizens and one of the Federation's to symbolise the renewed relations between the two governments. Julian had gladly agreed to marry Garak, Central Command's "volunteer," but now he's learning all over again that nothing involving Cardassians in general and Garak in particular is as simple as it appears on the surface.
Author's Notes: The sequel to Chapter 12 of my fic involving the 30=Day Cheesy Tropes challenge. The trope was, unsurprisingly, "arranged marriage." I had been trying to keep thing short, but by the time I finished writing that chapter, I had way more ideas in my head that were demanding I write them. Eventually, I gave in and got down some of them, and this is the result.
Who knew this trope could be so much fun?
(1)
". . . And then at this point in a Cardassian enjoinment ceremony, the parties involved pledge their undying devotion to Cardassia. We thought you'd prefer to pledge an oath of allegiance to the Federation instead," Commander Sisko said with a lift of his eyebrows.
"I would, yes," Julian agreed without hesitation. After hearing about Cardassia from Garak for the last two years, he was of the opinion that, while it was a fascinating place from an intellectual standpoint, he wasn't interested in having strong ties to it.
Well . . . stronger ties than the ones he was about to have.
Almost a month ago by Earth's calendar, he'd agreed to marry Garak (or enjoin with him, as the Cardassians called it) for political reasons: specifically, to be a symbol of the peace between the Federation and Cardassia after the Cardassian government had been caught supplying weapons to its colonists in the Demilitarised Zone. It had been a tidy solution to what could have been a big problem: not many people got on that well with Garak, who had been volunteered by his government for the task. Certainly nobody else got on with him well enough to want to marry him.
But, honestly, it wasn't much of a sacrifice for Julian. After all, he did want to get to know Garak better, and being married to him would make that hard to avoid. He just wished he could skip right to the marriage bit and avoid all the political nonsense along the way. Unfortunately for him, from the sounds of what Commander Sisko had been saying about the wedding-enjoinment proceedings for the past half-hour, that was one wish that wasn't going to be granted.
"After that, all that will be left for you is to kiss Mr. Garak and sign the register," the Commander at last concluded.
Julian blinked several times. "Sir? I'm going to have to kiss Garak?"
"I'm afraid so. Central Command was extremely firm on that point."
At first, he frowned—that made no sense whatsoever—but then: "It's probably more of Gul Dukat trying to make things awkward for Garak—and me, I suppose. He hasn't forgiven us for that business with Rugal."
"I don't doubt it. Dukat strikes me as a man with a long memory."
"Well, if his idea of revenge is making me kiss a friend, I'd say I can live with it."
"He's also making you marry your friend in the first place," Commander Sisko pointed out.
"Even so. Given his reputation, I think Garak and I got off lucky." He tried a smile.
He got a sympathetic sigh in response. "Both governments want to have the wedding as soon as possible, preferably within the next month. I suppose they want to strike while the iron is hot."
At that, Julian's posture snapped straight. "I'm sure they would, Commander, but Garak is still recovering from major brain surgery. I won't be bringing any further complications into his life until he's back on his feet."
"Of course, Doctor. I'll let Starfleet Command know they're going to have a bit of a wait on their hands." He smiled. "They can deal with the Federation Council and Central Command."
"Thank you, sir."
Since they had finished going over the entire wedding-enjoinment ceremony, he had been expecting to be dismissed. He was therefore rather taken off-guard when Commander Sisko said, "One more thing, Doctor."
"Sir?"
By now, the Commander's smile was long gone. "A number of disturbing rumours have surfaced over the past week about our Mr. Garak. In light of this, if you're no longer comfortable going ahead with the marriage, I'm certain a replacement could be found. There's no need for you to feel trapped in this ridiculous situation."
He should have been anticipating this, but he hadn't. Once it was said, however, well—it wasn't all that surprising.
"Thank you, sir. I appreciate your concern, but I've already given it a great deal of thought."
And he had, during those hours and hours Garak had been sleeping and Julian had begun to wonder if he would ever wake up, while the man had sobbed and shouted at him, when Garak had taken his hand for the first and what he had plainly thought to be the final time. All the while, Julian had been aware that he was nursing not only his friend but his fiancé, and that he was about to bind himself to a man who had once been a torturer.
He took in and let out a breath. "And I considered breaking the engagement. But the fact of the matter is, I can't make someone else do this. At the very least, I know Garak, and I know that, whatever he might have done, it's in the past. He's a different man now, I'm sure of it. But . . . a stranger might not be."
Commander Sisko was silent for a moment, during which it was hard to avoid squirming. He seemed to be measuring Julian—and then he sat back in his chair.
"All right. If that's what you really want."
"It is, sir."
"But." He gave him a hard look. "I want you to know that if you ever change your mind, at any time—right up until the cue to say "I do"—you can. Don't worry about the consequences. I'll take care of them. Is that clear?"
"Perfectly, sir." It was much easier to smile this time. "Thank you."
The Commander seemed to relax. "You're welcome. Just don't forget."
"I won't."
"Good. You're dismissed."
*
Instead of returning directly to the infirmary, Julian made a detour to Garak's shop. Yesterday, Garak had finally worn him down enough to get permission to return to work—but only for half days, and only if it didn't tire him too much. He knew Garak was chafing at the bedrest he'd insisted upon and was liable to sneak around behind his back, which was the only reason he'd given in. Otherwise, it would have been another five days at least before he would have even considered letting up.
"Ah, Julian," Garak greeted him as he stepped into the shop. (Julian had insisted on the change in address—being called "Doctor" by his fiancé was only completely silly.) "To what do I owe the honour of your visit?"
Julian met that angelic smile with an exasperated look. "Don't give me that, Garak—Elim," he corrected himself when Garak raised a finger. "You know why I'm here."
Fortunately, Garak wasn't in the mood to feign further ignorance. "So I do, and I'm pleased to report that, aside from a need to sit down more frequently than I'm accustomed to, I've been experiencing no ill effects."
No ill effects that you're willing to admit, Julian mentally amended. One simply didn't shrug off a dependency as severe as Garak's, and even if there had been a great many advances in recent years in the treatment of addictions, Garak was still in for a long and difficult recovery.
Aloud he said, "I'm pleased to hear it." He seated himself on the edge of Garak's sewing table so Garak didn't feel the need to stand up. "I've just got back from meeting with Commander Sisko about, uh . . . our wedding."
"And what did the Commander say?"
"He explained how it's going to run—I'll forward you the plans later. It's up to us to set the date, though. I was thinking sometime next month."
"To give me time to recover?" Garak asked with a lift of his chin.
"To give everyone time to prepare," he answered firmly. "It sounds as though it's going to be a very large affair."
"I can't say I'm surprised. We Cardassians do enjoy a good spectacle."
"As do we Humans. It couldn't fail to be large-scale, unfortunately."
Garak gave him a sideways look. "Having second thoughts, Julian?"
"No, of course not. It's just—it's beginning to seem like rather a lot of attention."
"That's never bothered you before."
Julian frowned at him. "I don't mind it when the attention is about a paper I've written or a cure I've discovered, but—this is different. It's not about what I've done. All I am is a symbol."
"If it's any consolation, I'm no more pleased than you are about being the focus of so many eyes. Obscurity suited me quite nicely." He sighed. "Still, when Cardassia calls, its citizens must answer—even if the call is of an unusual nature."
When he mustn't have looked comforted, Garak added, "Cheer up, my dear Julian: in a matter of weeks, we'll be all but forgotten. The wedding is the important thing. Once it's over, all that most people will remember is that somewhere, a Federation citizen is married to a Cardassian to show what good friends our governments are . . . if they remember anything at all."
He let out a breath. "I hope you're right."
"So do I."
"I can't say that's very reassuring. . . ." He shook his head. "At any rate, I need to be back at the infirmary. I'll see you for lunch, provided you're up to it."
"I wouldn't miss it."
Garak nodded, he nodded back, and off he went.
*
After some discussion, he and Garak agreed upon Stardate 47940.4 for the wedding. While neither government was pleased at needing to wait nearly an entire month for the ceremony to take place, as it turned out, it was very much for the best. None of the Federation participants in the ceremony were familiar with Cardassian wedding traditions, and the reverse was true. The wedding rehearsals—and there were many of them—were filled with confusion, frustration, and a great deal of bickering.
(One of the Cardassian delegation, a Legate Etan, seem to to take particular exception to Jadzia—or so Julian had thought until both women arrived late to one morning rehearsal, looking very . . . relaxed. He had trouble making eye contact with either of them after that.)
The rehearsals were also filled with a great many details to keep track of. While none of the Cardassians involved seemed to have trouble remembering the various requirements and taboos (which had quadrupled with the addition of Cardassian customs), the other species present weren't so lucky. He could only be grateful for once for his genetically enhanced brain—remembering everything was simple for him. He made certain, however, to make mistakes the way an ordinary Human would, and counted himself lucky that he was afforded the luxury of choosing ones that were neither embarrassing nor diplomatically disastrous.
About the only thing they didn't rehearse was the kiss. Each time, whoever was standing in for the admiral that Starfleet was sending would say something along the lines of "And here's where you'll kiss to confirm the marriage. . . ." —or in Jadzia's case, "Here's where you'll pucker up, Julian. . . ." —and the rehearsal would continue on from there.
Sometimes Julian would catch Garak's eye; sometimes he would maintain his focus on the "admiral" of the day. And while Garak might have looked calm and even amused when Julian glanced his way, Julian couldn't say he felt the same. It wasn't as though he were shy or minded public displays of affection, but kissing his best friend on the station in front of representatives of two governments was going to be . . . odd. There was no getting around it.
Well, the only way out was through. He was simply going to have to put up with any strangeness. He'd get the whole thing over with, and with any luck, Garak would be right and they'd both be well and truly forgotten about in a fortnight. All he needed to do was last until then.
*
"Julian, how do I look?" Garak murmured to him.
"You look fine."
"You didn't even look at me!"
He sighed. The two of them, along with Commander Sisko, were waiting at Docking Bay 1 for the admiral sent to represent the Federation. At the moment, fashion wasn't what he really wanted to be thinking about.
Still, to satisfy his friend, he flicked his gaze up and down. "You really do look fine—you always look fine."
He wasn't simply flattering Garak, either. With the exception of his period of withdrawal from the wire, he'd never seen Garak less than perfectly presented. In their first year of acquaintance, he'd actually begun to wonder if it were possible for Garak to be untidy. He now knew better, of course, but he still felt very safe in assuming that Garak would be impeccably dressed at any moment.
. . . Any public moment. But soon he would be seeing Garak in his private moments and that might be another story. It was a strange thought.
"Thank you, my dear Julian." Garak sounded pacified. "That's most kind of you."
"It's nothing." He shook his head but kept his eyes on the docking bay door.
There was a pause that was soon filled by Garak. "Might I compliment you—both of you—on how well turned out you are today? The cut of Starfleet's dress uniforms is much more flattering than that of its everyday wear."
"I'm glad you approve," the Commander said with plain irony; Julian only offered a brief "Thank you."
Before Garak could say anything else, the docking bay door rolled open and two Starfleet security officers stepped through, followed by a trim white Human woman probably in her forties. She snapped a look at the three of them with the kind of expression that suggested her subordinates didn't get too many free rides.
Commander Sisko stepped forward, hand outstretched. "Admiral Nechayev. On behalf of myself, Dr. Bashir, and Mr. Garak, welcome to Deep Space Nine."
"Thank you, Commander. I feel as though I've only just left after that business with the Maquis."
She turned to Julian and shook his hand with a strong, dry grip. "As the representative of Starfleet and the Federation, I extend our thanks to you for taking on this job. You're going above and beyond the call of duty, and I'm going to ensure that's reflected on your permanent record."
Julian attempted a reassuring smile; he got the impression from the way it sat strangely on his lips that he may have missed his target. "Thank you, Admiral. That's very kind of you, but it's not nearly as much of a sacrifice as you're making it sound. Or—or any sacrifice," he amended when he caught movement from Garak out of the corner of his eye. "Elim and I have been friends almost since I arrived on the station. This is simply a little closer than I anticipated us getting."
"I see."
The Admiral turned her attention to Garak, who bowed, then shook her hand.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Admiral. Might I offer my sincere gratitude for the role you'll be playing in the enjoinment of myself and Dr. Bashir?"
"You're quite welcome. It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Garak," she said crisply before turning back to Commander Sisko.
"Allow me to show you to your quarters," he offered. "I hope you'll be able to join us in the wardroom for a small pre-wedding celebration at nineteen hundred hours. I can introduce you to the other participants in the ceremony then."
"I look forward to meeting them." One more sharp glance at him and Garak. "Good day, gentlemen."
With that, she and the Commander departed, followed by the security guards.
Once the group was out of earshot, Garak commented, "I believe we're in for an interesting evening, my dear Julian. Admiral Nechayev is something of a legend on Cardassia—as soon as I heard that she was the one to be officiating, it became clear that Starfleet is rather concerned about you. You'll forgive me for saying so, but in general, Starfleet officers have a reputation for softness on Cardassia. Few, however, will deny that the Admiral is very much an exception to that rule. Bringing her into the situation sends a very strong message."
"I don't see why everyone is so worried about me," Julian grumbled as they began the walk back to the promenade. "What do they think you're going to do? Murder me in my sleep?"
Garak gave him a bright smile. "My dear Julian, you're entering the world of Cardassian politics. There's no greater cause for concern than that."
*
Julian didn't see the Admiral again until the pre-wedding celebration. Her arrival to the wardroom was at precisely nineteen hundred hours and served as a well-needed distraction from Jadzia. His so-called friend had, at that moment, finally succeeded in catching his eye to wink at him, making him blush terrifically.
(Jadzia had organised his bachelor party the night before. It had been held at Quark's, had involved every single person on the station he'd spoken to for longer than five minutes, large quantities of food, and even larger quantities of alcohol. He remembered attempting to chat up Sarda the dabo spinner at one point and had thought he had been rather charming, but given her trouble keeping a straight face when he dropped by Quark's earlier today . . . apparently he had missed his mark.)
"Admiral, welcome," he said (too fast, damn it) as he stepped up to her. "Can I get you anything? A drink, perhaps?"
"A drink would suit me just fine," she answered.
He gestured for Quark and got an eyeroll in response, but at least the man looked as though he'd be coming their way at some point.
"Nervous, Doctor?"
He startled, then faced the Admiral in time to see her smile turn wry.
"I suppose you wouldn't believe me if I said I wasn't."
"I wouldn't, no."
He watched her survey the room until she found Garak, who seemed to be having a fine time in conversation with Jadzia. They were probably exchanging embarrassing stories about him.
"At least your intended seems to be decent enough, unlike most of the Cardassians I've had to deal with. Is he?"
Abruptly, she was staring him right in the eye again. It was more than a bit disconcerting.
"What, Garak? Of course. He's, well—don't tell him I said this, but he's . . . he's brilliant, in every sense of the word."
And that was all he was going to say. He wasn't about to mention anything about Garak's past to Admiral Nechayev of all people, no matter how not-entirely-settled his thoughts were on the matter.
"I see." A pause. "I don't see, however, anyone here who looks as though they could be your parents. Are they present? I'd like to be introduced."
Julian straightened, pulling up and back. "They aren't. Sorry."
"Admiral Nechayev," Quark oiled, appearing at last. "What can I get for you?"
"A Cardassian sunrise." She glanced at Julian. "It seems appropriate, given the occasion."
He tried a fast smile. "It does, doesn't it? Make that two, Quark."
"All right, two Cardassian sunrises. If you'll give me a minute, I'll be right back." He wove his way toward the drinks table.
The Admiral turned back to him, but before she could speak, a much friendlier voice cut in.
"Ah, there you are, my dear."
Garak glided up to them with a smile, and—
Julian jerked when he felt Garak's hand settle at the small of his back. It was by far the most intimate touch he'd ever received from him. What was he doing?
"And Admiral Nechayev," he went on. "How good to see you again."
She inclined her head. "I'm pleased to see you as well, Mr. Garak—I had been hoping for the chance to speak with you. I was just asking Dr. Bashir about being introduced to his parents, but it seems they weren't able to attend. Would your parents be present?"
"I'm afraid not. My father passed away a number of years ago and my mother is, like Julian's parents, also unable to attend."
Julian boggled at Garak. That was more information dropped casually into a sentence than Julian had been able to pry from him in the first two months of their friendship. What was Garak up to? Could he press him and find out even more?
He tried searching for an angle, but his mind kept returning to the hand on his back, which crowded his thoughts as surely as if it were pressed against bare skin.
His heart thudded.
". . . enjoinment ceremony? From what I understand of Cardassian society, this is every bit as momentuous of an event as marriages are for Humans—possibly more so."
"You're correct, of course, Admiral." Garak smiled and spread his free hand. "But my mother's work is of the utmost importance and she simply couldn't get away."
"A shame." The Admiral looked them over one last time, then said, "I should speak with the Cardassian delegation. If you'll excuse me."
She departed. Julian waited until she was out of range, then said, "Thank you, Elim."
"It was my pleasure." Finally, he let his hand drop (the absence was a jolt). "You looked as though you were in need of rescue."
He tried a smile and was no more successful than he'd been with the Admiral. "I was, a bit." And now it was time to change the subject. "I didn't know your mother was still living. What kind of work does she do that's so important, exactly?"
Garak gave him one of his sideways looks. "What do you think?"
There were, of course, many jobs that would make leaving Cardassia for an extended period of time difficult or impossible, but the only one that was coming to mind was. . . .
"She's not a. . . ."
Garak blinked at him. "A what, Julian?"
"A—"
"A Cardassian sunrise for you, Doctor, and one for—where'd the Admiral go?" Quark asked, abruptly frowning.
The interruption was disorienting enough that it took Julian a second to put together a proper answer. "What? Oh. She went to speak with the Cardassian delegation."
Quark waved his hand to take in the gathering, which was at least one third Cardassian. "Could you be a little more specific?"
"Sorry, Quark. I wasn't paying attention."
Quark rolled his eyes again. "Fine. Make the bartender get his exercise. It's not like I'm going to be on my feet half the night."
Julian picked his glass off the tray. "Thanks."
"You're welcome," Quark answered ungraciously. "What about you, Garak—can I get you anything? A glass of kanar?"
"Nothing for me, thank you," Garak said brightly, which was probably intended to contrast with Quark's less-than-cheery demeanour.
"Suit yourself."
"To answer your question," Garak said once Quark had left, "no, my mother isn't a Cardassian sunrise, although she is lovely."
Julian fought the urge to splash him with his drink. "I was going to ask if she's a spy, not a Cardassian sunrise."
"Oh." Garak opened his eyes wide. "Then you really should have been clearer. I must say, I found myself quite confused."
"No you didn't," Julian muttered, then glanced about and further lowered his voice. "So . . . is she?"
Garak chuckled. "My dear Julian, what an imagination you have! Always seeing spies in the most unlikely places. Should I await an accusation leveled at Commander Sisko next?"
"I doubt it."
Irritated, he took a sip of his drink—which was really very good, actually. Doing so gave him enough time to realise that if Garak's mother actually was a spy, Garak wouldn't share that information in a roomful of high-ranking Cardassian officials. There was still no need for him to be that condescending, though.
He lowered his glass and went on, "Still, you never can be too certain. I think I'll go speak with the Commander and make a few subtle inquiries."
"I'd be interested to hear what you learn."
He gave Garak a polite smile. "I'm sure you would."
He left, then, but as he found Commander Sisko and struck up a conversation, he couldn't resist glancing back at Garak. He wasn't surprised to see him smiling—the man barely stopped—but that . . . was a smile he'd never seen before. It was pensive, but whatever thoughts he was having obviously weren't unpleasant. The expression warmed him, somehow—and then when Garak caught his eye and nodded, he flushed, warming further still. His embarrassment only worsened when the Commander had to draw his attention back to the conversation, and after that, he focused very hard on forgetting about Garak.
Fandom: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Romance
Rating & Warnings: PG (reference to torture)
Words: 4085 this part; 8707 overall.
Disclaimer: I don't own the above media.
Summary: To repair the damage done by its interference in the Demilitarised Zone, the Cardassian government has proposed a marriage-enjoinment between one of its citizens and one of the Federation's to symbolise the renewed relations between the two governments. Julian had gladly agreed to marry Garak, Central Command's "volunteer," but now he's learning all over again that nothing involving Cardassians in general and Garak in particular is as simple as it appears on the surface.
Author's Notes: The sequel to Chapter 12 of my fic involving the 30=Day Cheesy Tropes challenge. The trope was, unsurprisingly, "arranged marriage." I had been trying to keep thing short, but by the time I finished writing that chapter, I had way more ideas in my head that were demanding I write them. Eventually, I gave in and got down some of them, and this is the result.
Who knew this trope could be so much fun?
". . . And then at this point in a Cardassian enjoinment ceremony, the parties involved pledge their undying devotion to Cardassia. We thought you'd prefer to pledge an oath of allegiance to the Federation instead," Commander Sisko said with a lift of his eyebrows.
"I would, yes," Julian agreed without hesitation. After hearing about Cardassia from Garak for the last two years, he was of the opinion that, while it was a fascinating place from an intellectual standpoint, he wasn't interested in having strong ties to it.
Well . . . stronger ties than the ones he was about to have.
Almost a month ago by Earth's calendar, he'd agreed to marry Garak (or enjoin with him, as the Cardassians called it) for political reasons: specifically, to be a symbol of the peace between the Federation and Cardassia after the Cardassian government had been caught supplying weapons to its colonists in the Demilitarised Zone. It had been a tidy solution to what could have been a big problem: not many people got on that well with Garak, who had been volunteered by his government for the task. Certainly nobody else got on with him well enough to want to marry him.
But, honestly, it wasn't much of a sacrifice for Julian. After all, he did want to get to know Garak better, and being married to him would make that hard to avoid. He just wished he could skip right to the marriage bit and avoid all the political nonsense along the way. Unfortunately for him, from the sounds of what Commander Sisko had been saying about the wedding-enjoinment proceedings for the past half-hour, that was one wish that wasn't going to be granted.
"After that, all that will be left for you is to kiss Mr. Garak and sign the register," the Commander at last concluded.
Julian blinked several times. "Sir? I'm going to have to kiss Garak?"
"I'm afraid so. Central Command was extremely firm on that point."
At first, he frowned—that made no sense whatsoever—but then: "It's probably more of Gul Dukat trying to make things awkward for Garak—and me, I suppose. He hasn't forgiven us for that business with Rugal."
"I don't doubt it. Dukat strikes me as a man with a long memory."
"Well, if his idea of revenge is making me kiss a friend, I'd say I can live with it."
"He's also making you marry your friend in the first place," Commander Sisko pointed out.
"Even so. Given his reputation, I think Garak and I got off lucky." He tried a smile.
He got a sympathetic sigh in response. "Both governments want to have the wedding as soon as possible, preferably within the next month. I suppose they want to strike while the iron is hot."
At that, Julian's posture snapped straight. "I'm sure they would, Commander, but Garak is still recovering from major brain surgery. I won't be bringing any further complications into his life until he's back on his feet."
"Of course, Doctor. I'll let Starfleet Command know they're going to have a bit of a wait on their hands." He smiled. "They can deal with the Federation Council and Central Command."
"Thank you, sir."
Since they had finished going over the entire wedding-enjoinment ceremony, he had been expecting to be dismissed. He was therefore rather taken off-guard when Commander Sisko said, "One more thing, Doctor."
"Sir?"
By now, the Commander's smile was long gone. "A number of disturbing rumours have surfaced over the past week about our Mr. Garak. In light of this, if you're no longer comfortable going ahead with the marriage, I'm certain a replacement could be found. There's no need for you to feel trapped in this ridiculous situation."
He should have been anticipating this, but he hadn't. Once it was said, however, well—it wasn't all that surprising.
"Thank you, sir. I appreciate your concern, but I've already given it a great deal of thought."
And he had, during those hours and hours Garak had been sleeping and Julian had begun to wonder if he would ever wake up, while the man had sobbed and shouted at him, when Garak had taken his hand for the first and what he had plainly thought to be the final time. All the while, Julian had been aware that he was nursing not only his friend but his fiancé, and that he was about to bind himself to a man who had once been a torturer.
He took in and let out a breath. "And I considered breaking the engagement. But the fact of the matter is, I can't make someone else do this. At the very least, I know Garak, and I know that, whatever he might have done, it's in the past. He's a different man now, I'm sure of it. But . . . a stranger might not be."
Commander Sisko was silent for a moment, during which it was hard to avoid squirming. He seemed to be measuring Julian—and then he sat back in his chair.
"All right. If that's what you really want."
"It is, sir."
"But." He gave him a hard look. "I want you to know that if you ever change your mind, at any time—right up until the cue to say "I do"—you can. Don't worry about the consequences. I'll take care of them. Is that clear?"
"Perfectly, sir." It was much easier to smile this time. "Thank you."
The Commander seemed to relax. "You're welcome. Just don't forget."
"I won't."
"Good. You're dismissed."
Instead of returning directly to the infirmary, Julian made a detour to Garak's shop. Yesterday, Garak had finally worn him down enough to get permission to return to work—but only for half days, and only if it didn't tire him too much. He knew Garak was chafing at the bedrest he'd insisted upon and was liable to sneak around behind his back, which was the only reason he'd given in. Otherwise, it would have been another five days at least before he would have even considered letting up.
"Ah, Julian," Garak greeted him as he stepped into the shop. (Julian had insisted on the change in address—being called "Doctor" by his fiancé was only completely silly.) "To what do I owe the honour of your visit?"
Julian met that angelic smile with an exasperated look. "Don't give me that, Garak—Elim," he corrected himself when Garak raised a finger. "You know why I'm here."
Fortunately, Garak wasn't in the mood to feign further ignorance. "So I do, and I'm pleased to report that, aside from a need to sit down more frequently than I'm accustomed to, I've been experiencing no ill effects."
No ill effects that you're willing to admit, Julian mentally amended. One simply didn't shrug off a dependency as severe as Garak's, and even if there had been a great many advances in recent years in the treatment of addictions, Garak was still in for a long and difficult recovery.
Aloud he said, "I'm pleased to hear it." He seated himself on the edge of Garak's sewing table so Garak didn't feel the need to stand up. "I've just got back from meeting with Commander Sisko about, uh . . . our wedding."
"And what did the Commander say?"
"He explained how it's going to run—I'll forward you the plans later. It's up to us to set the date, though. I was thinking sometime next month."
"To give me time to recover?" Garak asked with a lift of his chin.
"To give everyone time to prepare," he answered firmly. "It sounds as though it's going to be a very large affair."
"I can't say I'm surprised. We Cardassians do enjoy a good spectacle."
"As do we Humans. It couldn't fail to be large-scale, unfortunately."
Garak gave him a sideways look. "Having second thoughts, Julian?"
"No, of course not. It's just—it's beginning to seem like rather a lot of attention."
"That's never bothered you before."
Julian frowned at him. "I don't mind it when the attention is about a paper I've written or a cure I've discovered, but—this is different. It's not about what I've done. All I am is a symbol."
"If it's any consolation, I'm no more pleased than you are about being the focus of so many eyes. Obscurity suited me quite nicely." He sighed. "Still, when Cardassia calls, its citizens must answer—even if the call is of an unusual nature."
When he mustn't have looked comforted, Garak added, "Cheer up, my dear Julian: in a matter of weeks, we'll be all but forgotten. The wedding is the important thing. Once it's over, all that most people will remember is that somewhere, a Federation citizen is married to a Cardassian to show what good friends our governments are . . . if they remember anything at all."
He let out a breath. "I hope you're right."
"So do I."
"I can't say that's very reassuring. . . ." He shook his head. "At any rate, I need to be back at the infirmary. I'll see you for lunch, provided you're up to it."
"I wouldn't miss it."
Garak nodded, he nodded back, and off he went.
After some discussion, he and Garak agreed upon Stardate 47940.4 for the wedding. While neither government was pleased at needing to wait nearly an entire month for the ceremony to take place, as it turned out, it was very much for the best. None of the Federation participants in the ceremony were familiar with Cardassian wedding traditions, and the reverse was true. The wedding rehearsals—and there were many of them—were filled with confusion, frustration, and a great deal of bickering.
(One of the Cardassian delegation, a Legate Etan, seem to to take particular exception to Jadzia—or so Julian had thought until both women arrived late to one morning rehearsal, looking very . . . relaxed. He had trouble making eye contact with either of them after that.)
The rehearsals were also filled with a great many details to keep track of. While none of the Cardassians involved seemed to have trouble remembering the various requirements and taboos (which had quadrupled with the addition of Cardassian customs), the other species present weren't so lucky. He could only be grateful for once for his genetically enhanced brain—remembering everything was simple for him. He made certain, however, to make mistakes the way an ordinary Human would, and counted himself lucky that he was afforded the luxury of choosing ones that were neither embarrassing nor diplomatically disastrous.
About the only thing they didn't rehearse was the kiss. Each time, whoever was standing in for the admiral that Starfleet was sending would say something along the lines of "And here's where you'll kiss to confirm the marriage. . . ." —or in Jadzia's case, "Here's where you'll pucker up, Julian. . . ." —and the rehearsal would continue on from there.
Sometimes Julian would catch Garak's eye; sometimes he would maintain his focus on the "admiral" of the day. And while Garak might have looked calm and even amused when Julian glanced his way, Julian couldn't say he felt the same. It wasn't as though he were shy or minded public displays of affection, but kissing his best friend on the station in front of representatives of two governments was going to be . . . odd. There was no getting around it.
Well, the only way out was through. He was simply going to have to put up with any strangeness. He'd get the whole thing over with, and with any luck, Garak would be right and they'd both be well and truly forgotten about in a fortnight. All he needed to do was last until then.
"Julian, how do I look?" Garak murmured to him.
"You look fine."
"You didn't even look at me!"
He sighed. The two of them, along with Commander Sisko, were waiting at Docking Bay 1 for the admiral sent to represent the Federation. At the moment, fashion wasn't what he really wanted to be thinking about.
Still, to satisfy his friend, he flicked his gaze up and down. "You really do look fine—you always look fine."
He wasn't simply flattering Garak, either. With the exception of his period of withdrawal from the wire, he'd never seen Garak less than perfectly presented. In their first year of acquaintance, he'd actually begun to wonder if it were possible for Garak to be untidy. He now knew better, of course, but he still felt very safe in assuming that Garak would be impeccably dressed at any moment.
. . . Any public moment. But soon he would be seeing Garak in his private moments and that might be another story. It was a strange thought.
"Thank you, my dear Julian." Garak sounded pacified. "That's most kind of you."
"It's nothing." He shook his head but kept his eyes on the docking bay door.
There was a pause that was soon filled by Garak. "Might I compliment you—both of you—on how well turned out you are today? The cut of Starfleet's dress uniforms is much more flattering than that of its everyday wear."
"I'm glad you approve," the Commander said with plain irony; Julian only offered a brief "Thank you."
Before Garak could say anything else, the docking bay door rolled open and two Starfleet security officers stepped through, followed by a trim white Human woman probably in her forties. She snapped a look at the three of them with the kind of expression that suggested her subordinates didn't get too many free rides.
Commander Sisko stepped forward, hand outstretched. "Admiral Nechayev. On behalf of myself, Dr. Bashir, and Mr. Garak, welcome to Deep Space Nine."
"Thank you, Commander. I feel as though I've only just left after that business with the Maquis."
She turned to Julian and shook his hand with a strong, dry grip. "As the representative of Starfleet and the Federation, I extend our thanks to you for taking on this job. You're going above and beyond the call of duty, and I'm going to ensure that's reflected on your permanent record."
Julian attempted a reassuring smile; he got the impression from the way it sat strangely on his lips that he may have missed his target. "Thank you, Admiral. That's very kind of you, but it's not nearly as much of a sacrifice as you're making it sound. Or—or any sacrifice," he amended when he caught movement from Garak out of the corner of his eye. "Elim and I have been friends almost since I arrived on the station. This is simply a little closer than I anticipated us getting."
"I see."
The Admiral turned her attention to Garak, who bowed, then shook her hand.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Admiral. Might I offer my sincere gratitude for the role you'll be playing in the enjoinment of myself and Dr. Bashir?"
"You're quite welcome. It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Garak," she said crisply before turning back to Commander Sisko.
"Allow me to show you to your quarters," he offered. "I hope you'll be able to join us in the wardroom for a small pre-wedding celebration at nineteen hundred hours. I can introduce you to the other participants in the ceremony then."
"I look forward to meeting them." One more sharp glance at him and Garak. "Good day, gentlemen."
With that, she and the Commander departed, followed by the security guards.
Once the group was out of earshot, Garak commented, "I believe we're in for an interesting evening, my dear Julian. Admiral Nechayev is something of a legend on Cardassia—as soon as I heard that she was the one to be officiating, it became clear that Starfleet is rather concerned about you. You'll forgive me for saying so, but in general, Starfleet officers have a reputation for softness on Cardassia. Few, however, will deny that the Admiral is very much an exception to that rule. Bringing her into the situation sends a very strong message."
"I don't see why everyone is so worried about me," Julian grumbled as they began the walk back to the promenade. "What do they think you're going to do? Murder me in my sleep?"
Garak gave him a bright smile. "My dear Julian, you're entering the world of Cardassian politics. There's no greater cause for concern than that."
Julian didn't see the Admiral again until the pre-wedding celebration. Her arrival to the wardroom was at precisely nineteen hundred hours and served as a well-needed distraction from Jadzia. His so-called friend had, at that moment, finally succeeded in catching his eye to wink at him, making him blush terrifically.
(Jadzia had organised his bachelor party the night before. It had been held at Quark's, had involved every single person on the station he'd spoken to for longer than five minutes, large quantities of food, and even larger quantities of alcohol. He remembered attempting to chat up Sarda the dabo spinner at one point and had thought he had been rather charming, but given her trouble keeping a straight face when he dropped by Quark's earlier today . . . apparently he had missed his mark.)
"Admiral, welcome," he said (too fast, damn it) as he stepped up to her. "Can I get you anything? A drink, perhaps?"
"A drink would suit me just fine," she answered.
He gestured for Quark and got an eyeroll in response, but at least the man looked as though he'd be coming their way at some point.
"Nervous, Doctor?"
He startled, then faced the Admiral in time to see her smile turn wry.
"I suppose you wouldn't believe me if I said I wasn't."
"I wouldn't, no."
He watched her survey the room until she found Garak, who seemed to be having a fine time in conversation with Jadzia. They were probably exchanging embarrassing stories about him.
"At least your intended seems to be decent enough, unlike most of the Cardassians I've had to deal with. Is he?"
Abruptly, she was staring him right in the eye again. It was more than a bit disconcerting.
"What, Garak? Of course. He's, well—don't tell him I said this, but he's . . . he's brilliant, in every sense of the word."
And that was all he was going to say. He wasn't about to mention anything about Garak's past to Admiral Nechayev of all people, no matter how not-entirely-settled his thoughts were on the matter.
"I see." A pause. "I don't see, however, anyone here who looks as though they could be your parents. Are they present? I'd like to be introduced."
Julian straightened, pulling up and back. "They aren't. Sorry."
"Admiral Nechayev," Quark oiled, appearing at last. "What can I get for you?"
"A Cardassian sunrise." She glanced at Julian. "It seems appropriate, given the occasion."
He tried a fast smile. "It does, doesn't it? Make that two, Quark."
"All right, two Cardassian sunrises. If you'll give me a minute, I'll be right back." He wove his way toward the drinks table.
The Admiral turned back to him, but before she could speak, a much friendlier voice cut in.
"Ah, there you are, my dear."
Garak glided up to them with a smile, and—
Julian jerked when he felt Garak's hand settle at the small of his back. It was by far the most intimate touch he'd ever received from him. What was he doing?
"And Admiral Nechayev," he went on. "How good to see you again."
She inclined her head. "I'm pleased to see you as well, Mr. Garak—I had been hoping for the chance to speak with you. I was just asking Dr. Bashir about being introduced to his parents, but it seems they weren't able to attend. Would your parents be present?"
"I'm afraid not. My father passed away a number of years ago and my mother is, like Julian's parents, also unable to attend."
Julian boggled at Garak. That was more information dropped casually into a sentence than Julian had been able to pry from him in the first two months of their friendship. What was Garak up to? Could he press him and find out even more?
He tried searching for an angle, but his mind kept returning to the hand on his back, which crowded his thoughts as surely as if it were pressed against bare skin.
His heart thudded.
". . . enjoinment ceremony? From what I understand of Cardassian society, this is every bit as momentuous of an event as marriages are for Humans—possibly more so."
"You're correct, of course, Admiral." Garak smiled and spread his free hand. "But my mother's work is of the utmost importance and she simply couldn't get away."
"A shame." The Admiral looked them over one last time, then said, "I should speak with the Cardassian delegation. If you'll excuse me."
She departed. Julian waited until she was out of range, then said, "Thank you, Elim."
"It was my pleasure." Finally, he let his hand drop (the absence was a jolt). "You looked as though you were in need of rescue."
He tried a smile and was no more successful than he'd been with the Admiral. "I was, a bit." And now it was time to change the subject. "I didn't know your mother was still living. What kind of work does she do that's so important, exactly?"
Garak gave him one of his sideways looks. "What do you think?"
There were, of course, many jobs that would make leaving Cardassia for an extended period of time difficult or impossible, but the only one that was coming to mind was. . . .
"She's not a. . . ."
Garak blinked at him. "A what, Julian?"
"A—"
"A Cardassian sunrise for you, Doctor, and one for—where'd the Admiral go?" Quark asked, abruptly frowning.
The interruption was disorienting enough that it took Julian a second to put together a proper answer. "What? Oh. She went to speak with the Cardassian delegation."
Quark waved his hand to take in the gathering, which was at least one third Cardassian. "Could you be a little more specific?"
"Sorry, Quark. I wasn't paying attention."
Quark rolled his eyes again. "Fine. Make the bartender get his exercise. It's not like I'm going to be on my feet half the night."
Julian picked his glass off the tray. "Thanks."
"You're welcome," Quark answered ungraciously. "What about you, Garak—can I get you anything? A glass of kanar?"
"Nothing for me, thank you," Garak said brightly, which was probably intended to contrast with Quark's less-than-cheery demeanour.
"Suit yourself."
"To answer your question," Garak said once Quark had left, "no, my mother isn't a Cardassian sunrise, although she is lovely."
Julian fought the urge to splash him with his drink. "I was going to ask if she's a spy, not a Cardassian sunrise."
"Oh." Garak opened his eyes wide. "Then you really should have been clearer. I must say, I found myself quite confused."
"No you didn't," Julian muttered, then glanced about and further lowered his voice. "So . . . is she?"
Garak chuckled. "My dear Julian, what an imagination you have! Always seeing spies in the most unlikely places. Should I await an accusation leveled at Commander Sisko next?"
"I doubt it."
Irritated, he took a sip of his drink—which was really very good, actually. Doing so gave him enough time to realise that if Garak's mother actually was a spy, Garak wouldn't share that information in a roomful of high-ranking Cardassian officials. There was still no need for him to be that condescending, though.
He lowered his glass and went on, "Still, you never can be too certain. I think I'll go speak with the Commander and make a few subtle inquiries."
"I'd be interested to hear what you learn."
He gave Garak a polite smile. "I'm sure you would."
He left, then, but as he found Commander Sisko and struck up a conversation, he couldn't resist glancing back at Garak. He wasn't surprised to see him smiling—the man barely stopped—but that . . . was a smile he'd never seen before. It was pensive, but whatever thoughts he was having obviously weren't unpleasant. The expression warmed him, somehow—and then when Garak caught his eye and nodded, he flushed, warming further still. His embarrassment only worsened when the Commander had to draw his attention back to the conversation, and after that, he focused very hard on forgetting about Garak.
