Warnings:None that I can see. PG13, if that.

The door chimed once, twice, then went silent. Elim glanced down at his pad and noted the time. 0200. His ridges creased. Who would be calling on him at this time? All the inhabitance of Terok Nor liked to sleep during this shift, unless on duty. Human did so love their…relaxation. Ah well.

He pushed himself off the couch and moved to the door, after making sure he knew exactly where his…tools…lay. A good tailor never went anywhere without them. He drew himself up and then relaxed his shoulders. After all, he was just a tailor. No need to scare the locals, or make them think any differently that what he'd told them.

He keyed the door open and nearly let his surprise show.

Bashir?

But this wasn't the good doctor Elim knew and ate lunch with. Not by any means. This young human stood with hunched shoulders and a frightened look on his face – one that Bashir tried to hide, but nevertheless showed blatantly. His blue uniform, always so crisp and clean, had wrinkles in it, almost as if the doctor hadn't put much thought into it, other than to dress. Which wasn't like Bashir at all.

Elim let a tiny frown form. "Ah, doctor. This is a…unusual hour to call."

To say the least. Elim let the statement hang there though. Often, when faced with silences, humans tended to fill in the blanks all by themselves. And Elim knew how Bashir hated silences. He'd let the good doctor direct this conversation.

Yet Bahsir didn't say anything in response. The human searched the empty hallway, and then Elim's room, with an intensity Elim had never seen before. Something was wrong. Very wrong, if Bashir's trembling hands were anything to go by. Perhaps, Elim needed to push the doctor a little.

Elim raised a ridged eyebrow. "And what, pray tell, is the cause for this visit?"

Bashir took a deep, shaky breath in and then signed with his long fingers. Secure?

And Elim's entire thought process slammed to an abrupt halt. Why was Bashir using outdated hand signals? Why did he feel the need for nonverbal exchange? Elim squashed the small feeling of apprehension and waved the human inside. Bashir crept in with timid footsteps, eyes constantly fliting about the corners of the room.

Elim motioned him to sit on the couch and then took the other side of the furniture. "Doctor?"

Secure! Bashir's fingers jerked as he signed the question again, harder this time.

Elim rolled his back straight and signaled with his own hands. Yes.

Of course, he could have just said it, but it seemed the good doctor was running on an autopilot. One that dictated a silent mode of communication.

Bashir's face fell in relief and his elbows came to rest on his knees. His head bowed until Elim couldn't see anything but his unkempt hair, and his breathing became ragged. Elim leaned forward. "Doctor? What has happened?"

Wide, tearfilled eyes met his own. "They know."

"They?" Elim had an inkling as to who Bashir meant, but he needed to be sure before he took any measures.

"Section 31."

"Ah. About your enhancements." Elim sighed as Bashir sagged with a nod. "It took them far longer than I anticipated."

When they'd returned from the Dominion base camp, Bashir had told Elim point blank about his enhancements. He said he knew Tain had told him, so there was no need for any continuing charade on his – Bashir's – part. Elim had returned the doctor's candidness with some of his own. A warning that news like this would leak, perhaps to parties none of them wanted to see. The Order, Section 31, to name only two.

"But you did anticipate it, Garak." Bashir choked out a moan, running a hand through his hair. "I was the one who… who…"

Elim reached over and put a hand on the young human's knee. Were this a Cardassian, he'd say things about the greater good of the State, or a recalling of past training. But this wasn't a Cardassian. This was a human doctor. A neutral party, at best. A friend, at worst. So, Elim did the human thing and made physical contact.

Bashir gave a wobbly laugh. "I must be bad off for you to comfort me."

The doctor shook his head. "I'm sorry, Garak. I know how you hate…" he waved at himself "this."

"On the contrary, doctor, I find it helps me stay at the top of my game."

"A good tailor finds the needs of his costumers and grants them."

"Indeed."

"Then I'm glad I don't need a hug." Bashir offered him a tentative smile.

Elim softened his eyes. "What do you want to do, doctor?"

"I…" Bashir struggled and dropped his gaze. "I can't go with them, Garak. They…I…Quark found some…information. It seems Section 31 is very interested in my…enhancements."

Translation: They wanted to do tests. Perhaps lethal ones.

Elim nodded, pushing himself up off the couch. "Then it seems we're in need of transportation and money."

"No, Garak! I…" Bashir's hand reached out to him, but never touched. It hovered between them. An almost link.

"This is why you came, is it not, doctor?"

"I don't want to take advantage of your friendship, Garak," Bashir whispered, hand dropping to his lap again.

Elim scoffed. "Take advantage? Please, doctor. I told you to come to me if that happened."

"But – "

"Now," Elim interrupted him. "The question is, which quadrant do we want to go to?"

"W-we?" Typical. Now the doctor decided to focus on that particular phrase.

"Of course, doctor." Elim allowed a small smirk. "You're rubbish at undercover work. Someone will need to integrate you successfully into this new life of yours."

Plus, Elim would rather be far away when Section 31 came knocking. There was no door that organization wouldn't try.

"Oh." There was such a relief in Bashir's eyes. A sad happiness that sprung from the fact that not all facets of his old life would be lost. It tugged at something inside Elim, but he shoved it away for later thought.

Friendships were so complicated.

Ah well.

He'd never really liked being a tailor anyway.

"Now, then, are you going to tell Captain Sisko and O'Brien?"

"O-of course. I just…" Bashir stumbled and shrugged. "I panicked, to be quite honest."

"Not an unreasonable reaction." Elim strode over to his console. "Did Quark's contact say when Section 31 might be coming?"

"A few days, though I'm thinking that they've found out by now and it'll be sooner."

"As do I." Elim watched his console brighten as it turned on. "Right then, doctor. Go pack. Say your farewells. We leave in two hours."

"Two hours!"

Elim tilted his head to the side. "Doctor, in my line of work, it is best to do things quickly and quietly. There is a ship leaving in two hours for Vulcan. We shall barter passage onto it and then switch ships midway."

"A-are you sure about this, Garak?"

"Quite." Elim sat down. "Go, doctor. I will have everything in order by the time you're done."

"If you're…" Bashir trailed off and stood. "I'll pack light."

"Do." Elim quirked his lips up. "Don't forget Kukalaka though."

"Garak!"

"He might miss you."

"I'm leaving," Bashir huffed, cheeks blazing red.

Good. Let him focus on that for now, rather than the horrors Section 31 might do. Elim watched the human leave out of the corner of his eye. The next few months would not be kind to the doctor. He'd led a comfortable, albeit wary, life until now. He knew nothing of running. But Elim would guide him through it.

A young, Aenar appeared on Elim's console. "What do you want?"

"Now, is that any way to greet someone who saved your life?"

A small roll of the eyes. "I take it you're calling in that debt."

"Of course." Elim messaged his list. "Within an hour, if that's doable. If not, forward it on to the other location in four hours."

The Aenar's pale face scrunched. "That's a lot of platinum."

"Will that be an issue?"

"No." A put-upon sigh. "No, I can do it. Just…this will cancel out my debt?"

Elim hardened his gaze.

The Aenar squirmed. "Right. I'll just go do this then."

"You have my heartfelt thanks."

The Aenar snorted but didn't say anything. The screen went blank and Elim stretched. He'd grown comfortable here on Terok Nor. Perhaps this came at an opportune moment. A chance to reinvent himself and lose whatever tails The Order might still have on him. He only wished it hadn't come at such a cost to Bashir.

Ah well.

A thought for another time.

Now, what new identity should he give himself this time?

Hmmmm….

Well, he was partial to teaching. And wouldn't that be a galactic joke on this quadrant. A former member of The Order, teaching their young history. He'd need a new name though. Garak would have to die, just as Elim had. Perhaps he might enlist Bashir's help in that. The doctor did have quite the vivid imagination, after all.

And that's it, folks. Hope you like it. I'm really not sure where this came from, but I couldn't just not write it. Sorry if Julian or Elim came off as OOC. I tried to make sure they were as in character as possible. But this is an AU, so I might not have succeeded fully.

Let me know what you think in a review. Please? I love reviews so much.