Received: from [66.218.66.95] by n34.grp.scd.yahoo.com with NNFMP; 06 Jun 2004 00:20:40 -0000 X-Sender: campbratcher@psci.net X-Apparently-To: ASCEM-S@yahoogroups.com Received: (qmail 29009 invoked from network); 6 Jun 2004 00:20:39 -0000 Received: from unknown (66.218.66.167) by m7.grp.scd.yahoo.com with QMQP; 6 Jun 2004 00:20:39 -0000 Received: from unknown (HELO mailstore.psci.net) (63.65.184.2) by mta6.grp.scd.yahoo.com with SMTP; 6 Jun 2004 00:20:39 -0000 Received: from max (as4-d59-rp-psci.psci.net [63.92.109.155]) by mailstore.psci.net (8.12.2/8.12.2) with SMTP id i560KOQX020772 for ; Sat, 5 Jun 2004 19:20:24 -0500 Message-ID: <00ea01c44b5c$241be9a0$9b6d5c3f@max> To: "ASCEM-S" X-Priority: 3 X-MSMail-Priority: Normal X-Mailer: Microsoft Outlook Express 6.00.2800.1158 X-MimeOLE: Produced By Microsoft MimeOLE V6.00.2800.1165 X-eGroups-Remote-IP: 63.65.184.2 From: "Keith & Jessica Bratcher" X-Yahoo-Profile: sileya MIME-Version: 1.0 Mailing-List: list ASCEM-S@yahoogroups.com; contact ASCEM-S-owner@yahoogroups.com Delivered-To: mailing list ASCEM-S@yahoogroups.com Precedence: bulk List-Unsubscribe: Date: Sat, 5 Jun 2004 19:20:57 -0500 Subject: [ASCEM-S] NEW DS9 Guilt 1/5 G/B (NC-17) Reply-To: "Keith & Jessica Bratcher" Content-Type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit X-ELNK-AV: 0 _Life Support_ "Doctor, your shift ended over thirty minutes ago." "Hmm?" Julian glanced up at Nurse Jabara, but his mind was still focussed on his office's console. "The Em - the Commander ordered you to work half-shifts for the rest of this roster, remember?" "Yes, of course," Bashir replied automatically, turning back to the monitor. Maybe if he had started with a lower dosage of the Vasokin, his fingers inputting alternative levels rapidly, the initial deterioration of Bariel's heart and kidneys wouldn't have been so severe. "You've barely slept more than a few hours since," she swallowed hard before continuing, "the Vedek's condition began to worsen." "I'll be fine, really." Julian was feeling worn down, but he knew that sleep deprivation was playing only a minor role. He frowned at the data stream which predicted extensive heart and kidney damage within 52 hours, and immediately entered another set of figures. Sighing loudly, his Bajoran head nurse retreated from his office, but Bashir barely noticed. Grimacing, he added yet another variable to the computer model, adjusting the amount of inoprovaline used before resuscitation. First Kai Opaka and now Vedek Bariel had died under his care, Julian brooded as he read over the dismal results. The Vedek Assembly should ban him from coming anywhere near their members before he did any more harm. A weary but determined voice interrupted his self-flagellation. "I'd always heard that Starfleet officers were big on obeying orders, but I guess I'd heard wrong." Julian leapt to his feet. "Kira, please come in. Have a seat. Can I get you anything?" Kira sat, but waved away the rest of his anxious words. "I'm fine," this assertion belied by the dark circles underneath her eyes. "So, do I report you to Sisko, or are you going to take some time off?" "I could ask the same of you," Julian prodded gently. A pained smile, "Trust me, Odo is making sure I rest. He's worse than a mother hara cat with her cubs." "You're lucky to have a friend that cares about you so much." "Yes, he's a good friend," Kira nodded absently, rubbing her palms against her thighs. An uneasy silence descended, during which Bashir mentally rejected one comforting platitude after another. Finally, she cleared her throat. "We're conducting the death chant for Bariel in the station's temple tomorrow. You'd be welcome to attend." "Thank you, but I doubt the Kai would appreciate my presence." Particularly after calling her a coward, Julian thought. It appeared that he'd inherited his father's knack for diplomacy, after all. Kira's expression hardened."Winn has already returned to Bajor, to bask in the glory of the new peace treaty with Cardassia. Seems like she's the only person who doesn't feel responsible -." She broke off, blinked rapidly, before continuing emotionlessly,"A monk from Bariel's order will be leading the chant, the ceremony will begin at 10 00 hours." "I'll try to attend," Julian promised. A brisk nod, and she rose to leave. "Nerys -," he called after her, causing her to pause at the doorway."You shouldn't blame yourself, Nerys. You did nothing wrong." Another strained smile, "I could say the same to you." Julian glanced down at the data he'd re-examined from every possible angle. "A physician's prerogative," he mumbled. "Then it's a Major's prerogative to order you to take some time off." He met her eyes, and was relieved to glimpse a bit of the old Kira there. "Stop beating myself up, that's your job?" "Exactly," her smile became more genuine. "So knock it off, or I will report you to Sisko." "Yes, sir," he responded, watching her leave. Alone again, Julian stared at his console for several more minutes, before admitting that Kira was right, he wasn't doing any good here. Sighing, he closed the files and left his office, returning the smile Jabara bestowed on him with good grace. He'd bet Quark's entire stash of gold-pressed latinum that she had asked Kira to talk sense into him, he thought on his way out of the Infirmary. He should have known a Bajoran wouldn't give up so easily. Walking along the Promenade, Julian contemplated whether he should attend the ceremony for Bariel. Bajoran death chants were infamous for their length, he'd heard that the shortest was two hours, and he assumed that it would be even longer for a Vedek. Julian wasn't sure if he could handle being surrounded by all of the Bajorans he had failed for that amount of time. He knew he was being irrational, that most of them didn't actually blame him. Regardless, he still felt the weight of their broken expectations along with his own. Bashir sighed deeply, thinking that all of his ideals felt battered and bruised right now. His recent experience on 21st century Earth had badly shaken his certainty in the moral superiority of humanity. The Bell Riots had brought home that not so long ago his species had been no better than Cardassians or Romulans when it came to the treatment of their fellow citizens, let alone others. Instead of three years, it now felt like three decades had passed since he'd arrived on DS9. Head down, Julian wandered aimlessly, recalling his excitement at finally reaching the frontier of space, so confident that he'd make a name for himself. Throughout his final year at the Academy, he'd fantasized about bringing Federation enlightenment to distant planets, performing medical miracles for grateful populations, and occasionally doing both while fending off hostile aliens with nothing but his phaser and a ripped shirt. He was going to be the next Leonard McCoy and James T. Kirk rolled into one. He was going to be hero. The total berk he'd been then, Bashir reflected ruefully, could never have imagined that his most courageous act as a Doctor would be to look a friend in the eyes and tell her to let her lover die. Kira had been the real hero, overcoming her own pain to face the bitter truth, and then staying with Bariel until the end. Julian swerved to avoid a Bajoran rushing past, and suddenly realized that he was pacing in front of Garak's shop. Abruptly, he came to a halt, startled that he would come here of all places. He hadn't been inside the tailor's store, hadn't even spoken to Garak, for several months. Not since the morning he'd marched in there and summarily ended their affair. *"As my patient it doesn't matter what you've done." Unable to turn back, unable to look at the monster he'd let into his life. "I never said that about my lover."* Julian hastily repressed the memory, having no desire to relive that particular moment in his life. He'd made several mistakes since coming to DS9, but Garak qualified as the worst. From the very beginning, he'd allowed himself to become completely enthralled by the mysterious Cardassian, savouring every scrap of information the former spy offered. As a result, he now knew far more about Cardassian customs and politics than those of the Bajorans he worked with everyday. Hell, he could even read *kardasi* fluently, a fact he had managed to hide from Garak, although not from Enabran Tain. Julian shook his head, not wanting to recall his discovery of just how well that evil man knew him. Still, even before Tain had sent him irrefutable proof of what Garak had been, he had known. Not the details, but Odo had warned him about the Obsidian Order, and the tailor's denials to the contrary, the implant in Garak's head identified him as one of that infamous organization's former agents. Yet in the wake of the wire's deactivation, Julian had come to perceive Garak as someone who, despite all of the lies, was genuinely opening up to him. A man isolated, abandoned and in desperate need of compassion and forgiveness, not judgement. The next thing Julian had known, he had tumbled into a clandestine relationship with the Cardassian. During their short-lived but intense affair, it had been frighteningly easy to push all of his doubts to the back of his brain. To simply ignore what the man he was falling in love with had been, and for all he knew, still was. He always led with his heart, Julian conceded, both professionally and personally. But never before had he been so badly burned by following its lead. Bashir stared at the tailor's shop, unable to walk away. It occurred to him that he hadn't come here to punish himself for past mistakes, but seeking what Kira had found in Odo. Was it possible, he asked himself, that at this moment of pain and disappointment he simply missed his friend? For if he was going to be honest with himself, Julian reflected, he really did want to talk to Garak, had for some time. He wanted to know if anything could be salvaged from his first genuine friendship on the station. He was still hesitating, sorting through his jumbled feelings and motivations, when his body made the decision for him. As Julian walked through the opening doors, it felt like he was plunging out of an airlock without an environmental suit. Garak moved out from behind the counter and greeted him, but if he was either surprised or upset, Julian couldn't find any evidence. However, the Cardassian's civility was pointedly impersonal, and all thoughts of rapprochement fled. Desperate for an excuse for being there, Julian blurted the first thing that popped into his mind. "Ah yes, I need to order some baby clothes." "Indeed?" Garak's raised eye ridges caused Bashir to flush,"Not for me." "Of course not. I didn't think I was that far behind in the station's gossip." It felt as if the store's environmental controls had been reset to Cardassian defaults, but as much as Julian now wanted to flee, he was trapped by the reason he'd used. Wiping his damp palms against his trousers, he said, "They're for Ensign Vilix'pran, we're planning a baby shower for him." "Shower?" Garak asked, but his curiosity didn't sound genuine to Bashir. More like the Cardassian was playing the part that was expected of him. "A kind of party for expectant parents." Julian explained, now staring intently at the shop's carpeting. "So, would it be possible to - have some made?" After an extremely uncomfortable moment of silence, Garak answered, his tone of voice maddeningly neutral. "It will take some time, as I've never made apparel for the Ensign's species before. And if I'm not mistaken the outfits will have to be waterproof as well as accommodate wings." "That's alright," Julian responded quickly, "the shower is not for a while yet." Another long pause, during which he tried very hard not to squirm. "Very well," the Cardassian acceded. "I will investigate the possibilities, and send you a couple of designs with a price estimate in three days." Julian desperately wanted to say thank you, leave and never come back, but his traitorous feet refused to move. You were friends, he reminded himself harshly, lovers for God's sake, just talk to him. "Was there anything else?" Garak asked. Julian wasn't sure if it was wishful thinking, but this inquiry seemed less remote, and he leapt on the opening. "Actually yes." Bashir swallowed, then continued in a rush, "I would like for us to have lunch together sometime." "Would you." Not a question, but a forbidding statement. Any encouragement that might have been in Garak's manner was now gone, worsening Bashir's agitation. "Garak, I was - I mean - I am sorry about what happened - between us." Great, he thought, incoherency is definitely the way to convince him, Julian. "No, you're not," Garak snapped. "Don't lie to me, Doctor. You don't regret ending our association, you regret ever being with me." "Maybe, but -." "Not maybe, Doctor, definitely. And you are absolutely right." Garak stepped in closer, leaning in like a predator impatient for the kill. "A Federation Doctor and a Cardassian interrogator is hardly a likely partnership, now is it? Even the most ludicrous of your human romance novelists would doom such an affair from the start." "I'm not saying - I don't think I was wrong to end -," but he stopped himself abruptly. Garak had taught him that hesitancy and excuses were perceived as signs of weakness by his people, vulnerabilities to be exploited. Julian cleared his throat, and began again, this time making himself sound as certain as possible. "Garak, the fact is I've missed our lunches, our conversations," a deep breath before adding, "and our friendship." "I see." Garak retreated from the Doctor, smoothing an invisible crease on a displayed sweater. "I've been wondering when this was going to happen." Surprised by this admission, Julian didn't foresee the attack it heralded until the words cut into him."Wondering when your guilt would force you to come in here," Garak sneered, "apologizing and making noises about friendship. If we hadn't been so discreet about our relationship, I'm sure Quark would have a betting pool predicting the day it would happen." Bashir's skin began to burn again, but this time not due to embarrassment."Now wait just a minute -." But the Cardassian overrode his protest. "Your problem is you can't stand to hurt anyone, even someone like me, but I have no intention of being your charity case. So you can keep your self- serving Federation pity to yourself and leave now." "That's enough!" Sharply enough that he actually managed to silence Garak. "I'm not doing this out of pity or guilt, and okay, you're right, we were absolutely wrong for each other. As *lovers,* but we were good friends, and I miss that. I miss the way you challenged my mind, I miss the way you challenged every belief I've ever had, and I miss just spending time with you." Julian paused to collect himself, before adding emphatically. "But if that's not good enough for your vaunted Cardassian standards then - forget about it." For the first time since he had entered the tailor's shop, Garak's eyes were no longer evasive, but piercing his own. Evaluating him, Julian realized. He met the gaze boldly, challenging the Cardassian right back. The expressive blue eyes became thoughtful, and Garak's voice was remarkably mild as he confessed, "I have found lunch time to be rather dull of late." Julian released his breath, not aware until that moment that he had been holding it. "So have I." Garak looked away first, and retreated slightly, covering the move by straightening several jackets. "Perhaps we could meet the day after tomorrow?" It was an apology for his accusations, Bashir realized, and probably the only sincere one he would receive from the proud Cardassian. "I'd like that, very much," surprised how much he meant it. Now that his anger had been vented, Julian was happy and relieved that they were talking again. "There's a book I just finished," he volunteered, "it's a human mystery novel I could loan you, if you're interested." Now it was Garak's turn to demonstrate genuine enthusiasm. "I'll bring a volume of Shoggoth's enigma tales in exchange. You will find, my dear Doctor, that Cardassians have mastered the genre of mysteries." "I'm sure they have," Julian responded, not bothering to mask his amusement at Garak's boast. "If you like, I'll come by the shop at 13 00, and we can go to the Replimat together." Garak bowed his head, a movement that somehow conveyed agreement along with a respectful farewell. Julian had never been able to figure out how he managed to communicate so much with a simple nod. Doubtless Garak would claim that it was a form of subtlety unique to Cardassians, Bashir mused as he exited the tailor's shop. He was eminently pleased with himself, and felt more relaxed than he had in a long time. Yes, their intimate relationship had been a ghastly mistake, Julian reflected as he strode down the Promenade, but that didn't mean their friendship had been. He smiled to himself, looking forward to the resumption of their literary and cultural debates. He had been hopelessly naive, Julian conceded, just as Kira, Dax, O'Brien, Sisko, and naturally Garak had all asserted. Gullible enough to believe that the frontier was a place of holo-novel heroes, where the good guys never died and villains could be swayed by reason. A universe in which loved conquered all. He now knew better, and Julian wondered if this was a sign he was finally growing up. Considering he would soon turn thirty, the Doctor recalled with an internal wince, it was about time he did. [Non-text portions of this message have been removed]