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From: "Keith & Jessica Bratcher" <campbratcher@psci.net>
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Date: Sat, 5 Jun 2004 19:21:42 -0500
Subject: [ASCEM-S] NEW DS9 Guilt 4/5 G/B (NC-17)
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_Our Man Bashir_

"Computer, end program." With a sigh of relief, Julian
watched his secret agent program dissolve around them. "Bashir to
Sisko," he signalled, indicating to Garak with a wave of his hand
to remain in the holosuite for a moment longer.

"Sisko here," his voice over the computer channel sounded
reassuringly sane, not at all like Dr. Noah.

"Captain, I need everyone involved in the accident to come to the
Infirmary for an examination. There are several potential after
effects from having one's pattern saved for such an extended
period of time. "

"Unfortunately, we're a bit busy with some after effects of
our own." As the Captain paused, the Chief's voice could be
clearly heard in the background, "you're not the one
who's going to have to fix this bloody mess!" Sisko resumed,
"But I'll make sure everyone makes their way there before the
shift ends."

"Thank you, Captain. But if anyone experiences any dizziness or
pain, they're to report to the Infirmary immediately. Mr. Garak
and I are heading there now."

This time he could hear the reassuring sound of Dax laughing, and the
not so reassuring anger of Kira. "You may be used to being in
Julian's fantasies, but I'm sure as -." Julian felt
his skin grow hot, but fortunately the rest of the Major's tirade
was cut off by Sisko's response. "Understood, Doctor.
Commander Eddington informs me that we all owe you our thanks."

Bashir glanced at the Cardassian who seemed quite amused. "Mr.
Garak and I accept your thanks," Julian replied with a wry smile,
quickly adding "Bashir out" before he overheard anything
else. As they exited the holosuite, Julian contemplated asking Dr.
Girani to check over the command staff for if Kira ever found out
about the negligee and the kiss, he was -.

Tackled by Leeta. "Julian, you're safe! I knew you'd
be." She hugged him with an almost painful enthusiasm.

"Yes, I'm fine." Acutely aware of Garak's presence,
Bashir extricated himself from the embrace with some difficulty.
"My God, I can see why Miles was so upset," looking over the
chaotic jumble of tubing, wiring, and was that a spatula? "I'm
surprised Quark's keeping the place - what am I saying, of
course the bar's open." Julian glanced back, "But I guess
the holosuites won't be for a while."

"At least now you will be able to spend more time with me instead
of that ridiculous program."

His embarrassment increasing exponentially, Julian quickly changed
the subject. "When my shift's over I'll meet you here.
After today's adventures, I'm going to need a real drink
tonight."

Leeta squealed with pleasure,"I'll serve it to you myself,
that way it won't be watered down."

"I wouldn't want you to risk your job for me," he joked,
giving her a quick peck before she returned to her Dabo table.

"Such a charming young lady," Garak remarked. "You really
shouldn't neglect her so."

Recognizing the lie for what it was, Julian refused to be
baited. "Let's just get to the Infirmary, Garak."

"Certainly, you are the Doctor."

Julian sighed, how did Garak manage to make the most compliant
agreement sound like a deliberate provocation?

As soon as they reached the Infirmary, Bashir instructed the three
staff members on duty to go into his office and review the existing
data on transporter buffer accidents on his console. He ignored their
puzzled looks at his tuxedo as he shooed them out of the general exam
area, knowing that Garak would appreciate the privacy.

Once he had the Cardassian seated on a bio-bed, Julian administered a
general pain killer before applying a local anaesthetic to the
injured neck ridge. As the wound had been exposed for a while, he
took particular care cleaning it, determined to eradicate any
microbial invaders and the gun powder residue left by the
malfunctioning holosuite. Garak remained uncharacteristically
quiescent throughout, until the last stage of the procedure when
Bashir wiped the remaining dried blood from his neck with a medicated
sponge. The flinch was so slight, Julian almost missed it.

"Does it hurt?" He asked anxiously. "It shouldn't
hurt, the hypo I gave you should still be working."

"I'm fine, the sensation is simply unpleasantly cold."

Julian nodded understandingly, disposed of the sponge and then
carefully scanned the area for nerve damage. He was relieved to find
none.

"For a mere flesh wound, you are going to a great deal of
trouble." Garak commented mildly.

Bashir grimaced, knowing full well that the Cardassian's
observation was not as innocuous as it sounded. However, years of
their lunchtime debates had taught him a thing or two about
deflecting questions. "And for a plain and simple tailor you
certainly manage to get injured quite a lot."

"I'm sure no more than the industry's average."

Using the vascular regenerator, Julian encouraged the natural healing
of the vein his bullet had nicked open. "I rather doubt that the
average tailor gets severely bitten on the hand or requires
extensive brain surgery. Although I suppose the time you claimed to
have injured yourself with the thread cutter could be attributed to
your current profession."

Naturally, Garak could not resist such a tempting opening.
"Claimed, Doctor? Surely, there is nothing suspicious about a
straightforward sewing accident."

"Save that it *coincidentally,*" Julian said with deliberate
emphasis, "happened at the same time as the Lethean who'd
attacked me disappeared while in transit to the Federation
authorities."

"A shocking lapse of security on Starfleet's part. I'm
certain Odo would never have allowed such a thing to happen."

Bashir resisted the temptation to roll his eyes, and finished up his
repair work on the ridge with the dermal regenerator. "And then
who can forget the time you blew up your own shop."

"That was rather memorable," Garak agreed, sounding
distinctly proud of himself.

Julian frowned at him while applying the regenerator to the small cut
on the inside of the Cardassian's lip. "Well that bit of
subterfuge cost you several burns and contusions. Not long after, you
gained a broken clavicle and several ribs from some not so friendly
Klingon customers, and let's not forget the numerous lacerations
from defending the Detapa Council members." Placing his tools
aside for re-sterilization, he added, "I still can't believe
you fought alongside Dukat."

"I have difficulty believing it myself, Doctor, and I was
there."

"And finally a gun shot wound."Assessing the now healed area,
Julian concluded that except for a slight discolouration that would
soon fade the Cardassian's neck was as good as new. However,
before he could announce this positive evaluation of his work, Garak
killed his self-congratulatory mood.

"Now don't forget to include in my file the damage done to my
cheek and lip when Falcon's thug hit me. Although, I suppose I
can't hold you responsible for that particular injury."

Julian cleared his throat, trying to ignore the twinge of conscience
this disingenuous remark caused. "Yes, well, all I'm trying
to say is that the only other civilian on DS9 with a larger medical
file is Quark. In fact, yours is longer than most of the Security
staff, and their profession, unlike tailoring, is supposed to
occasionally put them in harm's way."

"Isn't this coming close to breaking patient confidentiality,
my dear Doctor? Perhaps I should be concerned about my privacy."

The smile that played along the Cardassian's lips was difficult
to resist, but Bashir made a concerted effort to sound
disapproving. "Speaking of privacy, you claimed to have no idea
how I spent my time in my holosuite program, and yet you were wearing
a tuxedo when you broke in." Julian touched the damaged collar of
the garment, "and not a replicated one I see. Care to
explain?"

"Nothing nefarious, I assure you. It was merely the result of
close observation of your peculiar sartorial choices of late."

Realizing his hand was still resting on Garak's silk shirt,
Julian yanked it away, and picked up a padd to begin updating the
Cardassian's medical file. "Which you couldn't resist the
temptation to investigate further," he muttered.

"Really Doctor, what choice did I have? For weeks on end you have
disappeared mysteriously from friend and lover alike." Garak
paused, and Julian could feel the Cardassian's eyes assessing the
discomfort his words had caused before continuing. "You knew that
eventually one of us, if not me then either Chief O'Brien or the
lovely Commander Dax would be moved to investigate."

"No, I expected that my friends would respect my
privacy."Julian corrected sharply, keeping his eyes fixed on the
medical padd.

"Of course," the Cardassian agreed, not sounding at all
convinced. Out of the corner of his eye, Bashir could see Garak's
head dip down predatorily, but was still unprepared for the next
salvo which neatly penetrated his shields. "Doubtless, you will
next try to convince me that you didn't get any satisfaction from
shooting me."

Julian's typing came to an abrupt halt, as he recalled the surge
of pleasure from genuinely surprising Garak. Furthermore, the
Cardassian had become positively submissive afterwards, *"Who am
I to question Julian Bashir, secret agent?"* There was no denying
that the obedience and respect he had gained from Garak had been a
heady experience. All feelings that as a Starfleet officer, as a
Doctor, he should never have had, let alone savoured.

He met Garak's knowing eyes without flinching, admitting nothing.
"I did what was necessary."

"Oh, I'm not questioning your action, Doctor. In fact, I find
it quite laudable."

"I wouldn't go that far," Bashir objected.

"In fact, the only question that lingers in my mind is just how
good your aim really is."

Julian smirked, sensing his opportunity to regain the upper ground in
this exchange. "I'm sure no better than the industry average
for physicians."

Garak bowed his head with a smile, acknowledging Bashir's
rhetorical skill. Pleased, Julian returned the smile and asked,
"So, does this mean there's still hope for me?"

"Always, Doctor," the Cardassian's tone of voice had
suddenly gained an intensity that took Bashir aback. "However, a
word of advice. When you begin to feel guilty," he raised his
hand to forestall Julian's complaint. "I know you my dear
Doctor, and it is inevitable that you will feel guilty." Garak
slipped off of the bio-bed and advanced on him; Julian felt his
heart race as the Cardassian invaded his space. "When you do,
know that I forgive you." With an enigmatic smile and a slight
bow of his head, Garak took his leave and exited the Infirmary.

Julian clutched the medical padd in his hand and reminded himself to
start breathing again. He felt slightly dizzy because of his
elevated heart rate, or so he told himself, ignoring the evidence
that his blood supply had been busy rushing somewhere other than his
brain.

Bashir slapped the medical padd onto the bio-bed in frustration,
knowing deep down that the Cardassian was right. It didn't that
his enhanced coordination had guaranteed that Garak was never in any
danger of a serious injury. Already, his conscience was questioning
why he had targeted such a sensitive area of Cardassian physiology.
Had his intentions been purely to save his friends and fellow
officers, or had he selected a particularly painful target as
retaliation? To finally punish the monster who had lured him into his
bed?

Resting his palms against the bio-bed mattress, Julian knew Garak
would tease him for entertaining such self-doubts. He could imagine
the Cardassian at their Replimat table, eyes sparkling with
amusement, telling him how his Federation conscience still hadn't
accepted the universe as it actually was. A place where one
couldn't always live according to one's ideals.

Julian closed his eyes, no longer thinking of the neck ridge he had
injured and then so assiduously repaired, but of the time he had
nearly lost Garak. Holding the Cardassian's cool hand in his,
overwhelmed by emotions he couldn't yet name. *"I forgive
you, Garak. For whatever it is that you did."* He had
unconditionally forgiven Garak, and then unconditionally loved him.
Leaving himself in the ridiculous position of now feeling ashamed for
having done so.

How Garak would relish such an admission, Julian thought. No doubt
the Cardassian would claim that it proved what he had said all along.
Bashir was far too trusting, he should never have tried to save his
dying friend in the first place. No, Julian contradicted this
imagined Garak, he was a Doctor, and he would never be ashamed of
acting on those ideals. Faced with the same situation again, he
wouldn't hesitate to act in the same way. In the end, Bashir
decided, he hadn't been wrong to offer his forgiveness, his
mistake had been to forget just what Garak must have done to need it
so much.

Julian shook himself, reminding himself that not only was he a
Doctor, but one that was currently on duty. Pushing all regrets
aside, he changed into a spare uniform, and then summoned his staff
members from his office to start the shift in earnest. To his relief,
the time remaining passed relatively smoothly, and was busy enough to
keep him from thinking too deeply. Ultimately only Miles had to be
threatened before submitting to his check-up, and thankfully Nerys
did not ask for any details regarding her role as Colonel Komananov.

When his shift finally ended, Julian kept his promise to Leeta and
made his way towards Quark's, but first spared a moment to glance
in the direction of the tailor's shop. The memory of the
Cardassian's intensity and the rush of heat that had passed
through him momentarily overwhelmed him, but he managed to squelch
its effects with a splash of cold analysis. Had Elim genuinely
forgiven him for wounding him, Julian pondered, or was there some
ulterior motive behind his uncharacteristic magnanimity? He shook his
head, reminding himself that wondering if Garak had an hidden agenda
was like asking if Rura Penthe was cold.

Concluding that discerning the clandestine motivations of exiled
Cardassians was not a task to approach sober, Bashir turned his back
on the closed shop and resumed course for Quark's. The bar looked
a great deal less like a disaster area, and now had more customers
than the ubiquitous Morn. Julian waved at Leeta, but she was stuck at
her Dabo wheel, and he had participated in quite enough games of
chance for the day. Smiling at the memory of Worf as Monsieur
Duchamps, he decided to wait at his regular bar stool for the end of
her shift.

As Bashir took his seat, he overheard the tail end of Quark's
orientation for his newest Ferengi waiter. "Your first shift
begins tomorrow at 20 00 hours sharp, and every second you're
late or not serving the customers will come directly off your pay.
And don't forget to order your uniform at Garak's tailoring
shop tomorrow morning. All my staff go there, so he'll be able to
finish it before your shift begins. And he's a Cardassian, so he
won't gouge you unreasonably for the rush job."

Sending his new employee scurrying, Quark turned his attention to
Bashir. "What can I get you, Doctor, or are you just here to
destroy more of my holosuites?"

Knowing it was pointless to protest, Julian ordered, "A single
malt scotch please, any age just as long as it's not
synthehol."

Within a few moments, Quark served him his watered down alcohol, but
after a sip Julian decided it wasn't half bad. Watching as a
uniformed waiter hurried past, he asked, "Quark, do you actually
make your staff purchase their own uniforms?"

Quark looked scandalized, "No self-respecting Ferengi businessman
would provide employee uniforms for free."

"No, of course not," Julian smirked in tolerant amusement at
this latest proclamation of Ferengi commerce practices. Turning to
watch Leeta, he recalled the long litany of complaints she often
regaled him with regarding her employer. Considering the number of
non-Ferengi Quark hired, Bashir mused, it was astonishing he
hadn't experienced a revolt yet.

"You know, Doctor, if Starfleet was smart they would make their
personnel provide their own uniforms as well." Once he had
secured Julian's attention, Quark leaned in, warming up to the
idea. "In fact, I know a very reputable Ferengi supplier who would
provide excellent quality for a very reasonable price."

"You mean someone who wouldn't gouge us too
unreasonably?" Julian teased.

"Exactly," Quark responded seriously. "Tell you what,
I'll get you the information, and you can bring it to Captain
Sisko. I would give it to him myself, but he never comes in
here."

"Not since you printed those `the Emissary drinks at
Quark's' coasters."

"An unfortunate misunderstanding," the Ferengi demurred,
before launching into a detailed analysis of the mutual benefits of
his latest scheme. Julian was only pretending to listen, when a
contradiction suddenly occurred to him. "Quark, why do you have
all your staff go to Garak instead of this Ferengi supplier of
yours?"

Quark's eyes lit up, the avaricious gleam indicating he had
spotted yet another unexpected source of latinum. "How much would
it be worth for you to know?"

"I'm sure not very much." Bashir replied in an effort to
discourage Quark's greed, for it had only been an idle question.

"Oh, but the reason why has to do with something Mr. Garak did,
something I'm sure he never told you about. Should be worth at
least five slips of latinum."

Damn, Julian thought, wavering for a moment, but Quark knew his
clientele's weaknesses. "Two slips, and that's final. And
only if it's something I don't already know."

"Trust me, Doctor, now just authorize the payment here,"
holding out the padd for the human's thumb print. Quark smiled
approvingly as Bashir acquiesced, even though he knew paying in
advance meant he would never see the latinum again even if the
Ferengi's information proved uninteresting. As it turned out,
Julian needn't have worried.

"Thank you, Doctor," Quark sequestered the padd away and
leaned forward conspiratorially. "Now, do you remember when
Professor Natima Lang and her two students came to the station?"





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