Title:   In the Cardassian Style
Author:  Kathryn Ramage 
Series:  DS9
Codes:   G/B 
Rating:  R for some violence and mildly explicit m/m
Summary: When Garak attempts to search for a woman from 
his past, Bashir decides to help find her.
Setting: Early in the 4th season, just after the episode
"Indiscretion."

Disclaimer: Paramount owns Star Trek, DS9, and the 
characters (except Ghenret Ara, who is mine).  This 
story was written for entertainment purposes only.

Copyright February 2000

~*\*~*/*~

Odo's regular breakfast meetings with Garak had excited 
some surprise in DS9's residents--since the friendship had 
only developed after one man had tortured the other--as 
well as confusion--since the Constable didn't eat.

Dr. Bashir smiled as he passed by their usual table on 
his way into Quark's for his own breakfast one morning, 
as amused and perplexed as anyone at the rapport that had 
sprung up between them.  And a little sad too?  Perhaps. 
He'd once been Garak's only friend on the station, and 
it had been flattering to be the sole recipient of the 
mysterious Cardassian's attention.  But he was also 
relieved of a little guilt; between his already-fading 
romance with Leeta and all those adventures with O'Brien 
in the holosuites, he hadn't been spending as much time 
with Garak as he used to.  It was good to see the tailor 
had found other companionship.

He did not intend to eavesdrop, but Quark's was not very
crowded at that hour of the morning, and he couldn't help 
overhearing fragments of their conversation as he sat 
alone at the bar. At first, he paid no more attention to 
Odo and Garak discussing the latest events in the war with 
the Klingon Empire than he did to Quark squabbling with 
his brother Rom.  Then things took an interesting turn.

"Constable, I wonder if I can ask a favor of you."

"What is it?"

"I need to locate a woman--a Cardassian woman."

"A friend of yours?"

"An old acquaintance. Her name is Ghenret Ara. We haven't
spoken to each other for several years, but the last time 
I received news of her whereabouts, she was living on 
Narres 4."

Odo nodded grimly.  Narres 4 was one of the Cardassian 
colony worlds that had recently been invaded by the 
Klingons.

"My usual sources haven't been able to tell me what's 
become of her, and the new Kardasi government seems to 
hold the same unaccountable prejudice toward me that the 
old government did. They refuse to give me any information. 
I was hoping that, now that the Federation has a more 
amicable relationship with Cardassia, _you_ might be able
to make inquiries on my behalf.  I would like to find out 
whether or not Madame Ara is still alive.  If she is, it 
would be...gratifying if I could talk to her." The request 
was made in casual terms, but Julian knew his friend well 
enough to hear the restrained urgency that lay beneath it. 

"I'll see what I can do," said Odo.

"Thank you, Constable.  I appreciate it."

After the two had gone their separate ways, Bashir sat 
musing over the cooling dregs of his tea.

Ghenret Ara. Who was she?

At one time, he'd believed that Garak was interested in 
him.  There had been a distinct note of flirtation--even 
invitation?--in their earliest conversations, and they'd 
grown so much closer after he'd removed the neural implant 
from the tailor's brain; for awhile, he'd thought that 
they might actually become lovers... But then Garak had 
retreated. They still had their lunches and the occasional 
literary discussion, still played their spy games, but the 
friendship had cooled. 

Julian had been hurt by this abrupt withdrawal, but he'd 
thought he understood.  There were so many problems they 
would have to overcome just to be together: the political
conflicts, the divided loyalties, the enormous cultural 
differences they had not yet managed to bridge. Garak had 
found the prospect of all that simply too daunting and 
wanted to spare them both the trouble.

Now, he began to wonder if something else had made Garak 
pull back from him.  Someone else.

~*\*~*/*~

He broached the subject the next time they met for lunch.

"Ghenret Ara," he pronounced the name as soon as he sat 
down.  

Garak grinned. "I thought you might be listening, Doctor."

"I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all! I've often said that you had the aptitude to 
become a capable spy, and I'm delighted to see you fulfill 
your potential. A good teacher likes to see his pupils do 
well."

"And what about her?" Julian persisted.  "Was _she_ your 
pupil? One of your colleagues in the Obsidian Order?"

"My dear Doctor, don't be absurd." Then Garak glanced up 
over Bashir's shoulder and, with a glint of mischief in
his eye, said, "Now there's some welcome news."

Julian turned to see an image of Gul Dukat on the monitor
behind him, just outside the entrance to the replimat. The 
station had been buzzing with amazement for days, since 
Dukat had acknowledged the existence of his half-Bajoran 
daughter and had taken the girl back to Cardassia. News of 
the scandal that followed, of the former prefect's demotion 
and dismissal from his position as advisor to the Detapa 
Council, had been broadcast on the Bajoran newsfeeds all 
that morning.

"I hoped I would live long enough to witness _his_ down-
fall." Garak spoke with undisguised satisfaction.

"I think it's a shame," Bashir replied, momentarily 
thwarted but not at all surprised at this abrupt shift 
in their conversation. "Dukat's being penalized for what 
may be the first decent thing he's ever done."

"On the contrary, he has gotten exactly what he deserved.  
Keeping a mistress is a disgrace to any Cardassian."

"A Bajoran mistress, you mean?" 

"No," said Garak.  "It's true that there are _some_ Car-
dassians who cling to old-fashioned ideas about interspecies 
relations, and some who would grudge that half-Bajoran girl 
her very life, but you'll find just as many who are more...
open-minded. I was referring to Dukat's infidelity, not his 
weakness for Bajoran females. We Cardassians, as you know, 
hold our familial bonds very dear.  The bonds of matrimony, 
especially."

Eager as he was to pursue his original question, Julian 
found this statement too unbelievable to ignore. "Are you 
saying that Cardassians never have affairs?" 

"Oh, there are dalliances." Garak waved his hand dis-
missively. "Brief liaisons, the occasional services of a 
professional courtesan, sexual favors to advance one's
career. These are acceptable as long as they are purely 
physical relationships and don't go on too long.  They 
don't threaten the loyalties demanded in a marriage, and 
can actually be beneficial if the marriage is a political 
alliance and the couple has no interest in each other.  
On the other hand, long-standing emotional entanglements
--the kind that Dukat always insisted on having with women 
like his Tora Naprem--_those_ are beyond the limits of 
social tolerance."

"I see," he murmured, completely lost--when a burst of 
insight suddenly brightened his understanding. Was this 
elaborate diversionary tactic as much of a distraction as 
it seemed? Garak, being Garak, would never come right out 
and tell him about Ghenret Ara, but mightn't he explain 
the situation while ostensibly speaking of something else? 
"What if- ah- Dukat had truly been in love with this other 
woman?" he asked.

"Then he ought to have given her up, for the sake of his 
family."

"But what if he couldn't? What if she meant more to him 
than his family?"

"If he was so enamored of this woman, then the decent 
thing would have been to terminate his marriage," Garak
answered.  "Of course, Dukat could never have married his 
Bajoran, but he would've been free to do as he pleased and 
embarrassed no one but himself by consorting openly with 
her.  His long-suffering wife would have been freed from 
her humiliation, and given the chance to find a husband 
more worthy of her.  At least, that's what _I_ would have 
done, if I were a married man and had fallen in love with 
someone else," he concluded virtuously, then turned his 
attention to his lunch.

Julian smiled, certain that he'd worked his way through 
the maze of misdirection laid out for him to arrive at 
the truth.  Years ago, Garak must have been in one of 
those politically advantageous marriages, and in love with 
another woman--this Ara, surely.  But he hadn't left his 
wife for her; in spite of what he'd just claimed he would 
do, when he actually had to choose between love and the 
dictates of Cardassian society, Garak had chosen Cardassia.
He had given her up.

And now? Garak was an exile.  The state he'd given his
allegiance to had cast him out; his marriage and whatever 
position of power he'd once held had been lost. He was a 
free man, and he'd never forgotten his old love.  He'd 
been trying to find her...

Julian felt a pang of jealousy, but his more generous 
emotions won out.  He couldn't deny the romantic appeal 
of the situation. It was all so sad, so touching, so 
incredible.  Who would ever suspect that underneath that 
cynical, detached pose, Garak concealed such a sentimental 
heart?

He decided then that he wanted to help.

~*\*~*/*~

Odo refused to tell him anything about the progress of his
investigation; Julian gathered that it wasn't going so 
well. 

He went to Sisko next. The captain didn't have the covert
sources of information on Cardassia that Odo and Garak had, 
but their efforts were obviously being blocked, and after
Sisko had rescued the Detapa Council from the initial wave 
of invading Klingons, he had a great deal of influence 
with the new government.  

"I don't think Garak has any ulterior motives, sir. He 
merely wants to know if she's still alive," he concluded 
after giving the captain a brief explanation. "After all 
the times he's assisted us, given us information when we
needed it, can't we do this much to return the favor?"

Sisko reluctantly agreed to pull a few strings with the 
Council and see what he could find.  

They had an answer a few days later: Ara was alive and
well. She had not been endangered by the Klingon assault
on Narres 4--in fact, she had left the planet months 
before to return to her family home on Cardassia Prime.  
She was living there now.

Instead of passing this information immediately on to 
Garak, Julian decided to contact her himself.  To confirm
that he had the right person? To intervene for his friend? 
He couldn't lie to himself:  It was curiosity, pure and 
simple, and impossible to resist. He had to see the woman 
whom Garak had loved for so long.

Cardassia's civilian communications were unstable--with 
the war going on, emergency systems and the military were 
given priority--but after hours of patient effort, he 
managed to establish a connection. 

A middle-aged woman appeared on his monitor.  Stately, 
fashionably dressed in a stiff, gold-brocaded gown, and 
with glossy black hair in a magnificent tower of coils 
and curls supported by golden rods and wires, she looked 
like an empress, and nothing like Julian had imagined.  

"Madame Ara?"

"Yes." Depthless black eyes swept over him, studying him 
through the screen.  "Who are you, young man?"

"My name is Julian Bashir, Dr. Bashir.  I'm the Chief 
Medical Officer on the Federation-operated space station, 
Deep Space Nine."

She seemed interested at the name. "Terek Nor?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Is this about Elim Garak?"

"Yes, it is," he answered, beaming. So she had kept track 
of Garak too! "He's been looking for you for some time." 

But his news did not produce the effect he'd expected; Ara 
nodded and said, "Yes, I know."

"You- You know?"

"I've been aware of his agents' attempts to locate me."

"You didn't want to see him?" Julian began to wonder in 
dismay if _she_ had been the one who'd been blocking Odo's 
and Garak's searches.

"My relationship with Elim Garak was...severed years ago,"
she answered.  "I had no wish for further communication 
with him. I didn't realize what he wanted." Her eyes swept 
over him again.  "It was improper of him to have _you_ 
negotiate with me."

"I'm not a negotiator," Julian replied.  "Garak doesn't 
know I'm talking to you." 

"Yes, I see." The corners of Ara's mouth lifted in a small, 
ironic smile.  "Very well, Dr. Bashir--_I_ will make the 
necessary arrangements.  Tell Elim that I will speak with 
him very soon."  

"Certainly-" he began, when she broke off the connection.

Julian sat back in his chair, puzzled by Ara's attitude. 
She'd known of Garak's attempts to find her, and had  
deliberately avoided being found.  She obviously wasn't 
pleased that he'd contacted her...and yet despite her 
chilly, imperious manner that suggested she wanted nothing
more to do with Garak, she'd agreed to talk to him in the 
end.  Was she interested or not?

And what about those cryptic references to negotiations 
and necessary arrangements?  Was there more going on here 
than he was aware of? Some other impediment? Perhaps _she_ 
was married now, and it was inappropriate for her to have
contact with an old lover except under certain controlled 
circumstances.  Had he breached some obscure Kardasi code 
of conduct by speaking to her on Garak's behalf? 

If he had a hundred years, he would never understand the 
intricacies of Cardassian society, nor the convolutions of 
the Cardassian mind. 

~*\*~*/*~

Madame Ara had asked--commanded, to be more accurate--that 
he tell Garak.  Julian thought that the best way to do it 
was to let it be a surprise. He would announce it casually 
over dinner; at a suitable lull in the conversation, he 
would say: "Oh, by the way, that woman you were looking 
for? Your long-lost love? I've found her for you."  

When he imagined the look on Garak's face, he couldn't 
help smiling.

And after that? Julian didn't know. He doubted that that 
forbidding woman would condescend to visit DS9, and Garak 
could not return to Cardassia.  There was no hope of a 
reunion, but at least he would have given his friend the 
chance to talk with her, to see her again. It would make 
up for his recent neglect, and show Garak that _he_ 
cared... Beyond that, Julian didn't dare to think. 

He made his plans, extended a dinner invitation to the 
surprised but assenting tailor, reserved a table on the
upper level of Quark's, and occasionally burst into 
foolish, anticipatory grins. 

When the evening finally arrived and they sat down at their 
table, Garak asked him, "So, Doctor, what have you been up 
to lately?"  Julian felt he couldn't keep silent another 
second.

"Actually," he began, "I-"  

Odo came up to them. "Garak, I've been looking for you." 

"Is something wrong, Constable?" Garak asked.

"No, nothing's wrong. A Cardassian woman has just arrived 
on the transport docked at Airlock 8.  She claims that her 
name is Madame Ghenret Ara."

Garak's expression of utter amazement surpassed Bashir's 
imaginings, but the doctor was too astonished himself to 
enjoy it.

"You didn't tell me that your investigation was so 
successful," the tailor reproached Odo once he'd regained 
his composure.

"It wasn't," Odo answered tersely.  "But she is here. She 
wants to speak to you."

They went to the docking ring, where the security officer 
assigned to process new arrivals to the station stood in 
the corridor outside the airlock.  Madame Ara was with 
him, not so splendidly attired as she'd been when Julian
had last seen her, and smaller than he thought, but no 
less imposing.  

"My dear Ghenret," said Garak as the trio came down the 
corridor, "how wonderful to see that you're still alive."

"Elim. You haven't changed," Ara replied and stepped for-
ward to offer the palm of her upraised hand in greeting. 
"It's like you to leave me waiting."  

"You have my sincere apologies." He returned this pre-
functory gesture of courtesy. "But I must say, I didn't 
expect you to appear so soon...or unannounced."

"Didn't you?"  She found Bashir, lingering a few meters 
behind Garak, and gave the doctor a severe look of dis-
approval that made the blood rush to his face.  

Garak followed the direction of her gaze. "Ghenret," he 
made the introduction, "this is Dr. Bashir."

"We are acquainted."

As Garak's eye-ridges widened in comprehension, the guilt-
stricken young man could only explain lamely, "I wanted to 
surprise you."

"Rest assured, Doctor, you have." He regarded Bashir with 
a fresh glimmer of interest before he turned back to Ara. 
"Then you know why I've been looking for you?"

She nodded. "I've come prepared."  Reaching into one of
the capacious pockets of her traveling cloak, she brought 
out a Cardassian-style datapadd and gave it to him. "Every-
thing is in order.  Do you accept these conditions?"

Garak took a moment to read the lengthy text on the small 
screen before he said, "Yes, I accept," and pressed his 
thumb to the scan-padd.  He was still looking down as Ara 
reached into another pocket, took out an elegantly jeweled 
dagger, and to Bashir's horror, stabbed the tailor in the 
chest. 

Odo seized her immediately.  The security officer tapped 
his commbadge to call for assistance, and the doctor rushed 
forward as his friend fell to his knees. Garak brushed him 
away, and raised a hand.

"It's all right," he said.  "Constable, please, let her 
go." He picked up the datapadd, dropped when he'd fallen, 
and handed it to Ara, who was standing like stone in Odo's 
grip.  "Thank you, my dear."

"It's done now, Elim," she hissed.  "Let us never meet 
again."

~*\*~*/*~

Bashir hastened his friend to the Infirmary.  He was 
alarmed at the amount of blood that seeped through his 
fingers pressed over the wound and stained the front of 
the tailor's tunic.

A minor uproar had followed the stabbing, with Captain 
Sisko demanding an explanation and Odo insisting on 
detaining Ara for attempted murder. Garak was unusually 
pensive while he sat on the biobed, tunic off so that
Bashir could work on his chest, and barely answered their 
questions: Ara had not tried to kill him; it was a private 
matter, a legal formality; he regretted the disturbance
he'd caused.  He refused to press charges. Odo grumbled, 
but Ara was allowed to leave DS9 via the same transport 
she had arrived on.

Bashir focused on repairing the injury, which wasn't as 
bad as it looked. The blade had glanced off the upper edge 
of the bony Cardassian breastplate; in spite of all the
blood, the cut was not very deep and had struck nothing 
vital. 

After Sisko and Odo had gone and the wound had been sealed, 
he asked, "Will you tell me what _that_ was all about?"

Garak looked up at him with surprise.  "My dear Doctor, 
_you_ brought us together. I thought you knew."

"I thought I did too, but I guess I was wrong."  No, he 
would never understand Cardassians, not in a hundred, not 
in a thousand years. How could that woman come all this 
way just to spurn Garak to his face?  Force him to agree 
to--What had that document been? Some kind of legal writ 
to ensure that he never bothered her again?--then stab him 
to emphasize her disdain? And how could Garak receive such 
a brutal rejection so calmly? Julian found it unfathomable.

He was further bewildered when Garak burst into a smile.
"I'll have to explain it to you one day.  And now, if 
you've finished with me, Doctor, I would like to clean up,
and," with a glance at the doctor's blood-smeared uniform, 
"I believe you could use a change of clothing too. We were 
about to have dinner before we were interrupted by all 
this excitement and it won't do to appear in public like 
this."

~*\*~*/*~

They separated briefly to change, and met again at Quark's.
Garak was there when Bashir arrived and had already ordered
a bottle of Kobheerian green wine. 

The tailor behaved as if nothing unusual had occurred since 
they'd left the same table, but Bashir was too miserable to 
enjoy his dinner or to keep up his side of the conversation. 
He was so terribly sorry. He'd only wanted to do something 
nice for his friend and, instead, he'd brought about a 
disaster.  Because he had blundered into a situation he 
didn't understand, Garak had been injured.  All of it was 
_his_ fault.  He should never have interfered.

He tried to apologize--and became more apologetic as the
evening wore on--but Garak met every one of his attempts
with a gracious, "It's quite all right, Doctor.  Think 
no more of it." And he observed the young man with that 
glimmer of renewed interest as he poured out another 
drink for them both.

News of the incident spread rapidly; it wasn't long before 
whispers and stares were directed at their table and Quark 
began to hover, hoping for details. Odo passed by on the 
upper Promenade at intervals, keeping an eye on Garak as 
if he suspected that the whole thing had been an elaborate 
ploy on the Cardassian's part.

When this unwanted attention became too much, Garak picked 
up the nearly-empty bottle of wine and said, "Doctor, why 
don't we go somewhere a little more private?"  He took 
Julian by the arm and walked with him back to his quarters.

Julian wasn't surprised that, as soon as they were through 
the door, Garak pulled him close and kissed him.  Nor was he 
surprised that he was kissing back.

This was not the way he'd once hoped it would happen. He 
was aware that Garak only turned to him now because he 
was hurt and in need of comfort. But Julian didn't mind; 
he sympathized.  Beneath the nonchalant veneer that the 
tailor had maintained all evening, the poor man must be 
heart-broken.  

And so he leaned closer, put his arms around his friend, 
and murmured words of encouragement between kisses. After 
his ruinous meddling, it was the least he could do to make 
amends.  

Then he _was_ surprised when Garak scooped him up.

"Wha-?"

"I realize we're moving very quickly," Garak said--and, 
indeed, he was bearing Julian swiftly into the bedroom.  
Once they were in the darkened room, he let go; Bashir 
landed, sprawled, across the bed. "You don't object?"

"Uh- no." Julian sank back and pulled off his shirt while 
he watched Garak undress.  He drew his legs up as the 
tailor sat down at his feet to help him out of his boots 
and trousers, then lay passively as appraising hands 
caressed his bare chest and abdomen, ran down the insides 
of his thighs; he opened himself to let Garak explore him 
more intimately, his breath quickening in anticipation. It 
wasn't the grand love-affair he'd once dreamed of, but he 
was willing to be used like this if it helped his friend 
through a difficult time. "Do you want me to turn over?"

"No, my sweet." Suddenly, Garak was over him--scaled body 
covering him, face close to his own.  A quick kiss, and 
then the Cardassian reached up to the luminescent panel 
over the head of the bed; Julian blinked at the light in 
his eyes. "I want to see you, to watch your face when I 
make love to you. I've been waiting a very long time for 
this."

As he spoke, he stroked Julian's cheek with his finger-
tips and gazed at him with such wonder and desire that 
the doctor felt tears start in his eyes.  He believed it.  
Garak did want him. Had he misunderstood again? "It's me, 
isn't it?"

Garak smiled indulgently.  "Of course it's you." 

"No-" he laughed.  "I mean- I'm the one you want. _Me_. 
Not just some warm body to see you through the night. Not 
_her_."

Garak's smile grew more tender. "You aren't a substitute
for her," he agreed.

Julian pulled him down for another, enthusiastic kiss.  
"Who is she, Elim?" he asked afterwards, and touched the
spot on Garak's chest where the wound had been. "What was 
she to you?"

"No one to concern you.  I will tell you all about her 
later."

"_Now_," he insisted.  "I've been in a muddle long enough. 
I want to know what's been going on. The truth. You're not 
having me until I get it."  This was an idle threat. Garak 
was already poised to take him. One thrust would bring him 
in; Julian couldn't have stopped it even if he'd wanted to.

But Garak sighed with exasperation and answered him, "Oh, 
very well. If you really must know--Until we finalized our 
divorce today, Ghenret Ara was my wife."

"Your w- Ah!"

~*\end/*~


Kathryn Ramage                    kramage@erols.com
~*\*~*/*~~*\*~*/*~~*\*~*/*~~*\*~*/*~~*\*~*/*~~*\*~*/*~
"It's about Garak...I'm afraid this relationship has 
gotten a little out of hand."
                            - Dr. Bashir, Past Prologue
~*\*~*/*~~*\*~*/*~~*\*~*/*~~*\*~*/*~~*\*~*/*~~*\*~*/*~