*     *     *     *

ACT III

(We are now in the corridor approaching Garak's House of Couture, where DAX and OPHIDIA are confabulating. OPHIDIA carries a large, poufy wedding dress on a hanger.)

OPHIDIA: How long do you want me to keep him in the fitting room?

DAX: Until you're sure he's overheard the Chief and Sisko. After that if he leaves it'll be to eavesdrop more.  That's all right.

OPHIDIA: When will they get here?

DAX: Any minute. I've got to go find Kira and go over our spiel. (Takes off. OPHIDIA enters the shop. GARAK, who has been reshelving some of the sweaters, accosts her)

GARAK: How may I help you, madam?

OPHIDIA: You can start by not calling me madam. My name's Ophidia.

GARAK: Garak, at your service. What can I do for you?

OPHIDIA: I need this altered in kind of a hurry. Do you think you could have it ready for me tomorrow?

GARAK: That all depends. Why don't you go on in and try it on and then you can show me what you want done to it. (OPHIDIA exits to fitting room.)

(Cut to Ops with SISKO and O'BRIEN, who is operating the replicator.)

O'BRIEN: Jamaican blend, hot, double sweet.

DAX'S VOICE: Dax to Sisko.

SISKO: Sisko here.

DAX'S VOICE: Ophidia's in position.

SISKO: We'll be right there. (The replicator materializes a pot of plomyk soup. O'BRIEN reaches for it, does a double take)

O'BRIEN: (removing the soup) Coffee.Jamaican blend, hot, double sweet.(This time it produces a plate of rakht.) Bloody thing. (Starts taking the
replicator apart.)

SISKO: Chief, do you have to do that right now?

O'BRIEN: Sorry, Commander, but this replicator has been acting up all week. It'll only take a minute.

(Back to the fitting room. OPHIDIA stands on a short pedestal in the dress, which is too big for her in most respects, especially the enormous billowing skirt.)

OPHIDIA: Married? Oh God no. I use it in the ancient Terran segment of my show. I do a kind of bride-who-got-away theme throughout the ages. You know, starting with the Raggle-Taggle-Gypsies-O and moving forward.(GARAK emerges from beneath the skirt, carrying pins, tape measure, markers, etc.)

GARAK: I'm not familiar with it.

OPHIDIA: It's about a recently married lady who one night ditches her husband to travel with the gypsies.

GARAK: I don't blame her. I would think just knowing you were tied to someone for life would be enough to make you long to head for the hills.

OPHIDIA: Don't be hasty, Mr. Garak. One of these days you'll fall hard for someone and then you'll look back on this conversation and feel pretty stupid.

GARAK: (Beginning to pin up the hem) All things are possible. I may indeed someday be reduced to one of those bleating turtle-doves your love poetry is so replete with, but I very much doubt it. How could I expect one person to hold my interest for the next fifty years? Between now and then I plan to be at least eight different people.

OPHIDIA: Sequentially or simultaneously? (GARAK laughs)

(Back to Ops. Closeup on O'BRIEN and the replicator, which has provided him with a steaming plate of meat and veggies.)

O'BRIEN: Did I ASK you for corned beef and cabbage? (Tosses it away onto a pile of rejected foodstuffs.) Coffee! Don't bother about the variety, just give me something hot, brown and caffeinated!

SISKO: Chief! (Replicator produces a baked potato)

O'BRIEN: This is no simple malfunction. This replicator is deliberately insulting me.

SISKO: Chief, I really think--

O'BRIEN: Just let me try one more thing.

(Fitting room. GARAK is taking in the bodice and OPHIDIA is getting restless.)

OPHIDIA: Tell me more about this ideal mate of yours.

GARAK: Well, she'd have to be loyal.

OPHIDIA: To you or Cardassia?

GARAK: Both, preferably. But she'd have to be devious enough to appreciate me.

OPHIDIA: I see. Faithful, yet scheming.

GARAK: Exactly. She'd be extremely intelligent, fertile, take an interest in literature and language, have a solid grounding in surveillance and
interrogation, good healthy green skin tone, excellent fashion sense...

OPHIDIA: But of course.

GARAK: And she'd have to be able to stand up to an Obsidian Order interrogation...(Suddenly becomes very businesslike) Are these the shoes you're going to be wearing with it? (Back to the corridor outside. O'BRIEN and SISKO approach. They stand in the main shop and hear OPHIDIA's voice from the fitting room:)

OPHIDIA: Don't make it too tight; I have to fit another costume under here.  (They nod to each other and position themselves as if having a casual conversation.)

SISKO: (enunciating very clearly) So! Chief! What was it you were telling me this morning about Doctor Bashir being in love with Garak? (Back to the fitting room for a reaction shot of GARAK, who nearly swallows the pins he's holding in his mouth.)

OPHIDIA: Finally.

O'BRIEN: It's true. I've never seen anyone so infatuated.

GARAK: Will you excuse me a moment?

OPHIDIA: Of course. (GARAK sneaks out into the main shop and hides, ineffectively, behind a rack of suit jackets.)

O'BRIEN: It's all he can talk about. Garak this, Garak that. And since he never stops talking, racquetball is becoming quite a chore.

SISKO: But love, Chief! Are you sure?

O'BRIEN: Am I sure? You remember that training session he and I ran down in Dakor Province?

SISKO: Last weekend.

O'BRIEN: Yes. Well, they housed us in a single room and I discovered that Julian talks in his sleep.

SISKO: Really.

O'BRIEN: It's knowledge I could well have lived without, believe me. It would be unfair to repeat it verbatim, Commander, but let me tell you it was strictly adult material and the only proper name I could make out was Garak.

SISKO: But it might be just a passing whim.

O'BRIEN: It's not just me. Dax is very concerned about him. She says more than once she's come across him in the lab at odd hours of the night pouring his heart out into a PADD and weeping like a lost soul.

SISKO: Goodness.

O'BRIEN: (warming up) It's true. And then he'll delete the whole thing, throw the PADD against the wall, tear his hair, bang his head on the table
and shout  "Oh, Garak, Garak, God give me patience! Day after day we sit grappling with literary issues when all I want is to grapple with your--"
(GARAK nearly knocks the rack over.)

SISKO: That's enough, Chief, I get the idea.

O'BRIEN: Dax is afraid one of these days he'll do himself a serious injury or worse. (GARAK manifests concern)

SISKO: Has he said anything to Garak?

O'BRIEN: Oh no. He says he'll die before he breathes a word of this to him. It's a bad lookout for him, any road, because he says he'll die if Garak doesn't love him, and he'll die before he'll make his love known, and he'll die if Garak ever says anything to him.

SISKO: But tell Garak. Hear what he has to say.

O'BRIEN: Oh, no. That would be a galaxy-class disaster.

SISKO: Why? Might Garak not feel the same way?

O'BRIEN: Sir, to Garak Julian's just a kind of pet. He's something to amuse himself with until he can work out a way to get home to Cardassia. Garak's been around too long and done too much to take a green kid like Julian seriously. Poor boy generally gets the worst of the battle of wits as it is. If he knew Julian was in love with him, he'd just tyrannize him worse.

SISKO: But still, we have no way of knowing how Garak really feels. Even if you're asking him what time it is you can't get a straight answer. He could be pining away in agony and we'd never know it.

O'BRIEN: No, Commander, I don't know him that well but I know there's no hope. The Cardies are different. None of us really matter to him. He
pretends to take an interest but his heart's not here. No, it would be cruel to tell him. Garak could never feel the same way; it's just not in him.

SISKO: You may be right. Garak's pretty cold-blooded. Speaking of which, he doesn't seem to be around--guess we'll have to come back later for your dinner jacket. (They begin to exit) It's a shame Garak's so cynical and detached, I think Julian could make the right person very happy. He's brilliant, he's affectionate, he's not bad-looking--

O'BRIEN: Now there I have to disagree with you.

SISKO: But there's a good heart under all that posturing.

O'BRIEN: I wish he had a proper use for it. Not to mention all that perfectly good libido going to waste. (They exit. GARAK disentangles himself
from the clothing rack and advances into the main room, stunned)

GARAK: This can be no trick. (Paces about) O'Brien might be able to carry something like this off, but Sisko couldn't deceive a Pakled four-year-old. He's the most transparent human I've ever met. No, it must be true. He must really...(ponders this in amazement) Love me? Why? I...I never thought I would...(briskly) They say he's affectionate--I know that well enough; and beautiful--I'd swear to that under torture; and intelligent--except for loving me, and truthfully that's not exactly positive proof of his genius, especially...oh dear. Especially after listening to me rant all afternoon about the vapidity of love stories...(More pacing; suddenly he comes to a decision) Well. It is relevant. I'm not giving Cardassia a good name on this station; they say I'm cold-blooded, that I'm...not always perfectly truthful. I hear how O'Brien and Sisko feel about me; if I put this information to good use, as an operative should, I can change Cardassia's image. Yes. If I return his affection...our union would perhaps bring the Federation and Cardassia closer together. Yes. I'm sure it would. This isn't just about me! It's about the fate of the Alpha Quadrant! He must be requited. For the good of the empire. (OPHIDIA emerges cautiously from the fitting room, carrying the dress and wearing her regular clothing. At the same time, GARAK sights BASHIR approaching the shop)

GARAK: Oh my God, here he comes. (OPHIDIA hides. Garak peeks out at BASHIR, who looks his normal insouciant self.) Yes, the ravages of 
lovesickness are clearly visible to me now. The poor thing. (GARAK flits about in panic for a moment, then ends up at the back of the shop pretending to brush some lint off a jacket)

BASHIR: Garak! (Garak turns with an elaborate show of nonchalance)

GARAK: Doctor! What a pleasant surprise. How may I serve you?

BASHIR: Well, Garak, I've come to avail myself of your professional expertise.

GARAK: Really.

BASHIR: Yes, I need a new suit for my sister's wedding. I wondered if you would fit me.

GARAK: Oh, I should think I would.

BASHIR: It's been a while since I last bought a formal outfit and I'm afraid my measurements may have changed since then.

GARAK: Yes, well, we'll look into all that when the time comes. Have you given any thought to the style? We have a fine selection of formal wear from around the quadrant. A number of my clients have been quite happy with these. (Shows him what is clearly a standard 20th-C tuxedo with minor modifications)

BASHIR: I was looking for something a little more...adventurous.

GARAK: Indeed! Well, yes, Terran menswear does tend to the conservative side. Now here's an interesting line: it's a Vulcan designer, but he shows a lot of Bajoran influence, I think. (Shows him an earth-tone suit with more flowing lines and a lot of texture work)

BASHIR: That's more like it. Would you have it in my size?

GARAK: That all depends on what size you are. Let's get you on into the fitting room and we'll take a look.

BASHIR: Thanks, Garak, you don't know how much I appreciate this.

GARAK: The pleasure's all mine. (Bashir's badge beeps)

NURSE: Sickbay to Dr. Bashir.

BASHIR: Oh, damn. Go head.

NURSE: One of the Phrenellians has presented with a heart complaint. We're having trouble diagnosing.

BASHIR: I'll be right there.

GARAK: I hope it's not your sister.

BASHIR: I'm sure it's nothing serious. Phrenellians are very prone to psychosomatic disorders; weddings usually bring on an affliction in someone. My guess is it's the groom.

GARAK: Well, our fitting must be postponed, then.

BASHIR: I'll be right back after I'm done in sickbay. OH, but the way, Reoh told me to invite whoever I want to the wedding. I'd love you to come if you're interested.

GARAK: Thank you, Doctor. I'll certainly try. (Bashir exits.)

GARAK: "Whoever I want to the wedding...I'd love you to come if you're interested." (Ponders) There's a double meaning in that. (OPHIDIA emerges)

OPHIDIA: Mr. Garak? Are you finished with the dress?

GARAK: Oh my. I do apologize. When did you say you needed this?

OPHIDIA: (hands dress to him) Take your time. Borrow it if you like. (Pats him on the shoulder) Good luck. (Exits)

(Our story moves to Sickbay, where BASHIR is examining CHAULID)

BASHIR: Any night sweats, palpitations, shortness of breath?

CHAULID: All three.

BASHIR: Well, Chaulid, you have all the symptoms of what we call WRCC--wedding related cardiac complex. The anxiety about your coming
nuptials is affecting your circulatory system. It's quite a common condition.

CHAULID: So there's really nothing wrong with me.

BASHIR: There most certainly is. Your heartbeat is irregular and your blood pressure is low. It's just that the cause is psychological. I'll put you on some medication for the symptoms to tide you over. It should clear up after the wedding.

CHAULID: Thank you, Doctor. (BASHIR readies the hypospray) If you don't mind my asking--how is--uh--

BASHIR: Reoh's very well. No symptoms at all. (CHAULID blushes. BASHIR sprays him) She seems very fond of you.

CHAULID: I am unworthy of her. I wish I could bring more to the marriage. My family's fortunes suffered during the first defensive against Cardassia.

BASHIR: I don't think that matters to Reoh. She likes the idea that she'll be helping restore your house. As long as you love each other...

CHAULID: Oh, I do! I only wish I deserved her.

BASHIR: You do. Good luck. I'll see you tomorrow, if not before. (CHAULID leaves. ODO enters)

ODO: Doctor, I'm having a problem with my constabulary.

BASHIR: I'm sorry to hear that. Have they taken ill?

ODO: You don't understand. I'm the one affected. I haven't been able to matriculate a coherent sentence since this morning.

BASHIR: I see. (Begins scanning him)

ODO: It's very incontinent.

BASHIR: Yes, I would imagine it must be. (Continues scanning) Well, Odo, we run once again into the old problem, which is that nothing about your biology is remotely analogous to anything I'm familiar with. It's difficult to make an assessment.

ODO: Improvise. Please.

BASHIR: Ordinarily I would say something's amiss with the language centers of your brain, but since you don't have a brain, per se, that's not a very promising hypothesis. I can't run any of the usual...wait a moment. (Looks at the tricorder, then takes out a tongue depressor.) Will you stick out your tongue and say "ah," please.

ODO: Doctor, I'm a dizzy man. I don't have time for this. Do you have a halitosis or not?

BASHIR: If you mean diagnosis, I do have one, but first you have to open your mouth and say "ah."

ODO: (greatly suffering with the indignity of it all) Aaaaaaah.

BASHIR: Thank you.

ODO: Well?

BASHIR: How long have you been in humanoid form?

ODO: Twelve hours.

BASHIR: No, I mean how long has it been since you spent an appreciable amount of time in something other than your present shape?

ODO: I'm not sure. I think it was...well, it's been at least a month. I've been very busy.

BASHIR: That's what I thought. Your body is producing less of a chemical that seems to be associated with shape retention. As a result, you're losing some control over your fine mimetic functions. Your mouth and throat show slight morphological abnormalities, which may be what's causing you to misspeak. You think you're forming one word when in fact you're forming a similar one.

ODO: But why don't I hear it?

BASHIR: Well, I don't know--how exactly do you hear?

ODO: Good question.

BASHIR: My advice is to spend some time as soon as you can shifting into other forms. It's not natural for you to hold the same shape all day every day. Your matter is simply getting tired of being Odo and it's starting to make mistakes. I'd advise you to try doing some recreational shifting on a regular basis from now on. In the meantime, try to use small words, you seem to have better luck with those.

ODO: I'll do my best.

BASHIR: Good! (ODO leaves. BASHIR laughs and wanders into a secluded nook of sickbay to fiddle with some gadgets. KIRA and DAX, unseen by him, enter.)

DAX: Are you sure Garak is in love with Julian? (There is a crash from the alcove as BASHIR drops his gadgets. They nod and continue)

KIRA: Definitely. Odo told me himself; and Odo never exaggerates. It's the real thing.

DAX: He must have it pretty bad if he's confiding in Odo. Has anyone told Julian about this?

KIRA: Garak swore Odo to secrecy. He says it would kill him if Julian ever found out. Of course, it's killing him that he doesn't know, too.

DAX: Well, no one's sworn us to secrecy.

KIRA: We can't. It wouldn't be right.

DAX: Just because you don't like Garak is no reason to deny him his best chance for happiness. We should let Julian know.

KIRA: I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy. Julian sees Garak as some kind of walking mystery novel. He doesn't care for him as a person. Besides, if Bashir's ego gets any more inflated he won't be able to get his head through doorways. He's too deeply in love with himself to spare a thought for Garak.

DAX: He's not that self-involved.

KIRA: Not self-involved? How many times have you heard about that damn postganglionic fiber? (Cut to BASHIR, who is crouching on the floor
gathering up the broken bits of his dropped instruments)

BASHIR: (muttering) Preganglionic fiber...(Realizes Kira may have a point and gets up, chastened, to find a better eavesdropping spot. Back to
Kira and Dax)

KIRA: If he knew he'd just take it as further proof that he's the prophets' gift to sentient life forms. It's bad enough he thinks every female on this
station wants to play with his hypo--if he knew the men were swooning over him too he'd be insufferable.

DAX: You're probably right. He'd just see Garak as another conquest and lead him on or love him and leave him. Garak deserves better than that.

KIRA: No, I'm going to tell Odo to advise Garak to do whatever it takes to get over him. It's true enough I don't like him, but I know what it's like
to be in love and I can sympathize with the agony he's going through. It's a sad waste. Garak could throw a dart into Quark's on any given night and hit someone more worth his time and energy than Bashir.

DAX: Oh, come on, he has his good points.

KIRA: Yes, but they're overshadowed by that massive, towering arrogance of his.

DAX: That's not how you felt at the gratitude festival. (KIRA gets DAX in a headlock and twists her arm behind her back) OW!

KIRA: What did I tell you about that night?

DAX: That if I ever spoke of it again you'd rip my limbs off one by one?

KIRA: Correct.

DAX: All right, I take it back. (Kira releases her.)

KIRA: Well, it doesn't look like he's in here. Let's go.

DAX: I am sorry. I know you must be disappointed.

KIRA: Oh, you're a dead Trill. (Chases DAX out. BASHIR emerges slowly)

BASHIR: What fire is in my ears! Can this be true? 
              Do people think me a conceited twit?
              Then ego, shrink! And arrogance, adieu;
              Nobody likes a self-enamored git.
              And Garak--well--love on! I will requite thee,
              Putting my heart in your reptilian hands;
              I must admit, the neck ridges excite me;
              That spoon thing on your forehead fires my glands.
              And others say you do deserve, and I...
              Believe it. (Laughs) Though God alone knows why.

(Quark's, after hours. QUARK is cleaning up. JILIAM appears from the shadows and drags him into a dark corner)

JILIAM: You have not done what you promised.

QUARK: I have! Professor, I always fulfil my contracts. It took me a little longer than I expected, but I found just the right woman for the job. If
you'll just take your hands off my lapels I'll go get her.

JILIAM: Don't be long. (QUARK disappears upstairs and returns with DOPLA, a dabo girl who bears some resemblance to REOH and has her hair done the same way.)

QUARK: What do you think?

JILIAM: She'll do. Did you obtain the garments? (QUARK produces a bundle of clothing.) Excellent. (To DOPLA) You understand your role?

DOPLA: Give me a moment to change and she's all yours, whoever she is. (Exits.)

QUARK: I told her you were an excellent customer with peculiar tastes. She thinks this is just a fantasy role-playing type thing. She'll give you
whatever you're looking for.

JILIAM: I suppose it's safer if she doesn't know.

QUARK: I do my best to provide full deniability for my clients.

JILIAM: You may go now.

QUARK: Of course. Lock up and bring the key back to my quarters when you're done. (Exits. DOPLA emerges, dressed in what REOH wore in her first scene)

DOPLA: What's her name again?

JILIMA: Reoh. That's very important.

DOPLA: Whatever you say. Shall we get started? (JILIAM checks his chronometer)

JILIAM: Not yet.

(Cut to CHAULID in his quarters, trying on his wedding garments. He is clearly feeling better, excited about; the wedding, etc. D'JONN enters)

CHAULID: Brother! Tell me, what do you think--tunic tucked into the sash, or out? (D'JONN shakes his head)

D'JONN: So you still mean to be married tomorrow.

CHAULID: You know I do.

D'JONN: I'm not so sure I do, once you know what I know.

(Cut to QUARK's. It is dark. DOPLA sits on one of the tables, offended.)

DOPLA: If you have a problem with me, dismiss me and get someone else. Don't keep me here when I could be working.

JILIAM: One moment please. (Looks up from chronometer) Very well. Let's begin. (Approaches and embraces her, turning her back to the doorway)

DOPLA: I'd heard you professor types were anal, but this is--

JILIAM: Sssh. Speak as little as possible. Any nonverbal noises you could make would be appreciated, however.

DOPLA: I should have held out for another bar of latinum. (They start going at it on a table, JILIAM being careful to keep her face turned away from the door. Panning out into the corridor we see D'JONN leading CHAULID toward the bar. When they get to the doors, D'JONN motions him to look in. At this moment, JILIAM apparently climaxes, shouting "Reoh!" a few times while DOPLA accompanies him with fabricated orgasmic noises. CHAULID recoils, retching, and is led away by a sympathetic D'JONN. After a few moments, JILIAM breaks off abruptly)

JILIAM: Thank you very much. Here's a little something for your trouble. (Hands her a clinking sack.) If you ever tell anyone about what happened here tonight, I'll cut your throat. Do you understand?

DOPLA: Look, I don't know what you needed me for, but it obviously wasn't a good time. I'm not stupid. I know when to keep my mouth shut. (She and JILIAM exits; he locks the door. After they leave, we see the table that Dopla and Jiliam were using turn into ODO. He shudders, dusts himself off, and exits.)

(We now move to GARAK's shop, where he has been working late on OPHIDIA's dress and BASHIR's suit. He puts a bag over the dress, knots it, and hangs it up. He picks up the suit Julian picked out, fondles it for a moment, then wraps it up in some paper.)

GARAK: (gazing fondly upon the package) You lucky pair of trousers. (Sighs) Well, I normally don't make deliveries...but he needs it for tomorrow. I'll just leave it outside his door...(Tucks the package under his arm and heads for the corridor. As he locks his door, he hears JILIAM's voice from a darkened corner of the deserted Promenade)

JILIAM: I trust my performance was satisfactory. (GARAK, recognizing the voice, sneaks over to get a good look at the speaker)

D'JONN: I thought so. I won't ask how she felt.

JILIAM: Do not mistake me, D'Jonn. If you fail to perform in your turn the audience will be very unhappy.

D'JONN: You'll have nothing to complain of.

JILIAM: I sincerely hope not. (They walk off in opposite directions, JILIAM coming toward GARAK's lookout so he can see his face)

GARAK: (to himself, in shock) Jiliam? (Stares after him, then shakes his head) I've got to stop pulling all-nighters. (Exits with package.)

(JILIAM stops outside QUARK's quarters, rings, and enters.)

QUARK: Well, well well. Everything work out?

JILIAM: Perfect. (Sits on a couch; QUARK on a nearby chair) You found a very convincing double. Our target was completely taken in.

QUARK: Who was it? Jealous husband? Rival lover, perhaps? No, don't tell me, I don't want to know. Pay me the rest of the latinum and let's never see each other again.

JILIAM: Agreed. (As he hands QUARK the latinum, the unoccupied couch cushion morphs into an arm, which plucks the bag from his hand. ODO
materializes and collars both of them)

ODO: I'm afraid you'll both be seeing a lot of each other for the next few days. (Door opens to let in several security guards.) Destruct these dental men to the prig. (Confusion)

ENSIGN JORA: He means take them to the brig. Come on, let's go. (They haul them out.)

*End of Act III*