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ravenThis story was intended as a writing exercise. I have been revising a novel manuscript since February (and revising a previous version since the previous August). I am quite fed up. The object of this was to write something in about an hour and a half and revise it as little as possible. It was about Garak and Julian because I was in the Lakes with twelve of my friends who were reading three separate books they described as "the Garak book of Garak". You can read this story at the AO3 if you prefer.
fic:: everything as it was and everything as changed
by Raven
1200w, Deep Space Nine, Bashir/Garak. The fight started with why must you wear a chintz dressing gown covered in blue elephants and ended somewhere else.
There comes a point where nothing will serve but violence. Without wanting to or quite realising, Garak has picked up the threads of Julian's life, so when Captain Sisko makes a pan of jambalaya, Garak gets a share and he doesn't like it but he doesn't hate it, and it carries real warmth unlike everything else on Deep Space Nine. Later he goes through Quark's on his way to somewhere else and Dax invites him to join her, and he's both surprised that he enjoys her company and annoyed at himself for having never noticed a mind like his own, sharpened over a greater span of time. They spar, play cards. Garak doesn't drink but pockets a glass and at the end of the night when he goes back to his quarters he smashes it against the wall.
*
The fight started with why must you wear a chintz dressing gown covered in blue elephants and ended somewhere else.
Garak had been enjoying himself. He'd said, naturally, my dear Doctor, in a number of different intonations, as the argument shifted from fabric to general aesthetics to Cardassian aesthetics to Cardassian political philosophy to one's alleged, unconfirmed, former service to the Cardassian state. Julian had been laughing, and then he hadn't. "I don't know whether this is real or for effect," he said, with deliberation, as though having the thought for the first time.
Garak wanted to talk about blue elephants and chintz again. The fabric had tiny mirrors on it, badly embroidered so any clothing made of it trailed small silver pieces wherever its owner went.
"You tease me," Julian said, thoughtfully. "You evade me. You dissemble, you prevaricate, you lie. But what happens after that, Garak? What happens when you get tired of the game?"
It wasn't a game, Garak opened his mouth to say: or, rather, that it was a game in the Cardassian tradition, a thing so great and complex it could only be moderated through thrust and parry. The thought came and he couldn't express it, though only immediate sincerity would save him. He was silent, holding the soft, reflective chintz, and in the morning Julian had left the station on personal business and no one knew when he would be expected back.
*
Chief O'Brien stops Garak in a corridor and says, with immense, toe-curling discomfort, that Keiko has suggested inviting him to dinner. He expresses this thought without actually making the invitation. Garak accepts mostly for the resultant horror in O'Brien's expression and he's not surprised when at the appointed time there are Cardassian voles in the Ops aft plumbing and the chief of operations has been deputised to deal with them. But Keiko wants Garak's opinion on her hydroponic orchids. She thinks that some lack of nutrients is causing them to fail to thrive. Garak can't immediately assist but he can recommend a helpful volume and when Chief O'Brien returns covered in pipe grease they're poring over it together, Garak pointing out a passage that might be relevant and Keiko wondering aloud if it can be adapted for her hybrid cuttings. The dinner that follows is excruciatingly awkward but no one actually dies of it and Garak manages to sleep a few hours that night before wanting to break anything. He thinks about waking up Captain Sisko and asking for use of a runabout, just to see what will happen. Instead he waits until station daylight and makes a formal request for information about the whereabouts of the station's Chief Medical Officer and hopes that all of Keiko O'Brien's flowers curl up and die.
*
"Personal business," Garak says, to Odo, "is a Human perversion."
Odo nods sagely, a rare example of a sentient being whose personhood is invested wholly in the Deep Space Nine weekly Criminal Activities Report. Which is unfair to Odo, Garak thinks, tiredly. Odo believes that personal business is unnecessary, superfluous to the work of order. Whereas in the Cardassian mind, personal business is political business, the architecture of the state embodied in the souls of its citizens, reproduced in fractal miniature. In yet another of their purposeless dichotomies Humans distinguish the two and besides, Julian despises his parents and has returned to Earth perhaps twice in four years. If he's indigenous to anywhere, it's Deep Space Nine.
"That may be so," Sisko says, when Garak tells him this, "but nevertheless, Mr Garak, Dr Bashir is entitled to take his personal leave as he likes."
Garak doesn't know if Sisko is aware of Julian's relationship with him – it's nothing to do with station rules or regulations and so beyond Sisko's purview – but there's no other reason for the captain of a permanent Starfleet deep space installation to keep giving him jambalaya. Garak keeps eating it, because he can't think of anything else to do. Someone comes in wanting a sharp suit for her bat mitzvah. Garak sews it with such furious intention that the needle pierces his hand. He notes it from a great distance, that the urge to smash and destroy is on the arc of turning inwards, and jabs the needle in again for good measure.
*
Julian returns to Deep Space Nine at first light, the station illumination shifting from dimmed to ambient. He comes into the shop and throws his bag down and he looks as though he wants a bath and a good meal and a long nap but has come here because he needs something else first. Garak follows him into the replimat and they stare each other for a while.
"Where were you?" Garak asks, and doesn't add: my dear Doctor. He's graceless and unhappy, and at this time of the morning, hampered by reptilian torpor.
"On personal business." Julian sips his raktajino, eyes impassive over the rim.
"I see," Garak says. He still has a needle and thread in hand. A part of his mind is wondering if he can line the bat mitzvah suit with the paisley chintz with blue elephants on it. It would use up the fabric and no one would have to look at it.
"Oh, is that irritating?" Julian says, taking another sip. "Not knowing where I was?"
"Tell me," Garak says, and stops, tries again. "Please tell me the truth."
Once, a long time ago, Garak was a perfect agent, a subtle knife; a precise instrument of the Cardassian state. Now he throws crockery and eats Human food. This is just another indignity.
"Section 31," Julian says, though he looks startled. It's what Garak thought all along. "It was-- well. I'll tell you about it after I've spoken to Captain Sisko."
"I look forward to it," Garak says, tucking away the needle and thread. "Do come by for lunch, if you're available."
"Perhaps I will." Julian smiles and gets up, leaving behind his raktajino cup. Garak returns it to the Federation-manufactured replicator and goes back to the shop. He waits to hear about Julian's nightwork, and in the meantime he sews the cuffs of the suit, and puts aside another book for Keiko.
fic:: everything as it was and everything as changed
by Raven
1200w, Deep Space Nine, Bashir/Garak. The fight started with why must you wear a chintz dressing gown covered in blue elephants and ended somewhere else.
There comes a point where nothing will serve but violence. Without wanting to or quite realising, Garak has picked up the threads of Julian's life, so when Captain Sisko makes a pan of jambalaya, Garak gets a share and he doesn't like it but he doesn't hate it, and it carries real warmth unlike everything else on Deep Space Nine. Later he goes through Quark's on his way to somewhere else and Dax invites him to join her, and he's both surprised that he enjoys her company and annoyed at himself for having never noticed a mind like his own, sharpened over a greater span of time. They spar, play cards. Garak doesn't drink but pockets a glass and at the end of the night when he goes back to his quarters he smashes it against the wall.
The fight started with why must you wear a chintz dressing gown covered in blue elephants and ended somewhere else.
Garak had been enjoying himself. He'd said, naturally, my dear Doctor, in a number of different intonations, as the argument shifted from fabric to general aesthetics to Cardassian aesthetics to Cardassian political philosophy to one's alleged, unconfirmed, former service to the Cardassian state. Julian had been laughing, and then he hadn't. "I don't know whether this is real or for effect," he said, with deliberation, as though having the thought for the first time.
Garak wanted to talk about blue elephants and chintz again. The fabric had tiny mirrors on it, badly embroidered so any clothing made of it trailed small silver pieces wherever its owner went.
"You tease me," Julian said, thoughtfully. "You evade me. You dissemble, you prevaricate, you lie. But what happens after that, Garak? What happens when you get tired of the game?"
It wasn't a game, Garak opened his mouth to say: or, rather, that it was a game in the Cardassian tradition, a thing so great and complex it could only be moderated through thrust and parry. The thought came and he couldn't express it, though only immediate sincerity would save him. He was silent, holding the soft, reflective chintz, and in the morning Julian had left the station on personal business and no one knew when he would be expected back.
Chief O'Brien stops Garak in a corridor and says, with immense, toe-curling discomfort, that Keiko has suggested inviting him to dinner. He expresses this thought without actually making the invitation. Garak accepts mostly for the resultant horror in O'Brien's expression and he's not surprised when at the appointed time there are Cardassian voles in the Ops aft plumbing and the chief of operations has been deputised to deal with them. But Keiko wants Garak's opinion on her hydroponic orchids. She thinks that some lack of nutrients is causing them to fail to thrive. Garak can't immediately assist but he can recommend a helpful volume and when Chief O'Brien returns covered in pipe grease they're poring over it together, Garak pointing out a passage that might be relevant and Keiko wondering aloud if it can be adapted for her hybrid cuttings. The dinner that follows is excruciatingly awkward but no one actually dies of it and Garak manages to sleep a few hours that night before wanting to break anything. He thinks about waking up Captain Sisko and asking for use of a runabout, just to see what will happen. Instead he waits until station daylight and makes a formal request for information about the whereabouts of the station's Chief Medical Officer and hopes that all of Keiko O'Brien's flowers curl up and die.
"Personal business," Garak says, to Odo, "is a Human perversion."
Odo nods sagely, a rare example of a sentient being whose personhood is invested wholly in the Deep Space Nine weekly Criminal Activities Report. Which is unfair to Odo, Garak thinks, tiredly. Odo believes that personal business is unnecessary, superfluous to the work of order. Whereas in the Cardassian mind, personal business is political business, the architecture of the state embodied in the souls of its citizens, reproduced in fractal miniature. In yet another of their purposeless dichotomies Humans distinguish the two and besides, Julian despises his parents and has returned to Earth perhaps twice in four years. If he's indigenous to anywhere, it's Deep Space Nine.
"That may be so," Sisko says, when Garak tells him this, "but nevertheless, Mr Garak, Dr Bashir is entitled to take his personal leave as he likes."
Garak doesn't know if Sisko is aware of Julian's relationship with him – it's nothing to do with station rules or regulations and so beyond Sisko's purview – but there's no other reason for the captain of a permanent Starfleet deep space installation to keep giving him jambalaya. Garak keeps eating it, because he can't think of anything else to do. Someone comes in wanting a sharp suit for her bat mitzvah. Garak sews it with such furious intention that the needle pierces his hand. He notes it from a great distance, that the urge to smash and destroy is on the arc of turning inwards, and jabs the needle in again for good measure.
Julian returns to Deep Space Nine at first light, the station illumination shifting from dimmed to ambient. He comes into the shop and throws his bag down and he looks as though he wants a bath and a good meal and a long nap but has come here because he needs something else first. Garak follows him into the replimat and they stare each other for a while.
"Where were you?" Garak asks, and doesn't add: my dear Doctor. He's graceless and unhappy, and at this time of the morning, hampered by reptilian torpor.
"On personal business." Julian sips his raktajino, eyes impassive over the rim.
"I see," Garak says. He still has a needle and thread in hand. A part of his mind is wondering if he can line the bat mitzvah suit with the paisley chintz with blue elephants on it. It would use up the fabric and no one would have to look at it.
"Oh, is that irritating?" Julian says, taking another sip. "Not knowing where I was?"
"Tell me," Garak says, and stops, tries again. "Please tell me the truth."
Once, a long time ago, Garak was a perfect agent, a subtle knife; a precise instrument of the Cardassian state. Now he throws crockery and eats Human food. This is just another indignity.
"Section 31," Julian says, though he looks startled. It's what Garak thought all along. "It was-- well. I'll tell you about it after I've spoken to Captain Sisko."
"I look forward to it," Garak says, tucking away the needle and thread. "Do come by for lunch, if you're available."
"Perhaps I will." Julian smiles and gets up, leaving behind his raktajino cup. Garak returns it to the Federation-manufactured replicator and goes back to the shop. He waits to hear about Julian's nightwork, and in the meantime he sews the cuffs of the suit, and puts aside another book for Keiko.
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