The fight was inevitable. Anyone with half a brain and a general stereotyped view of Cardassia could see it coming.

Who the fight was between didn't matter. A nameless Cardassian soldier who was once a glinn now made an ensign in the Federation beat a young human science officer who outranked him. It was bound to happen, and frankly, Julian was surprised it didn't happen sooner.

Julian treated the victim as best he could, trying to remember a time when he himself was only thirty and mouthing off because he thought he was entitled to it. It was a long time ago, for sure. He was relatively certain, however, that had the other person been a particularly burly Cardassian, he would have held his tongue no matter how many more pips he had on his collar. It didn't take genetic enhancements to use basic common sense. This was something he made sure the young Lieutenant understood. Instead, the young officer retorted, "So? He is apart of the Federation now, so he has to play by our rules."

It was difficult integrating the Cardassians into the Federation, especially so soon after Bajor's admission. Surely, the recently healed science officer said, fifteen years would have been enough time. But Julian was older now, less naïve, and definitely old enough to know that fifteen years was not enough time to integrate two such diametrically opposed societies with a relationship mired in a particularly sordid history. He wondered at which point he had traded his idealism for a healthy dose of cynicism, but dismissed the thought.

And if he dwelled on it enough, he knew exactly where he had learned this sort of thinking from.

"Excuse me, Doctor." It was a familiar sort of voice that drew Julian from his thoughts. "But I was wondering if I could take some of your time."

Julian turned, unable to stop a grin from stretching across his face. "Mr. Garak, I've been expecting you."

"It's Ambassadorial Liason Garak. Plain, simple Ambassadorial Liason Garak," the Cardassian smiled politely, but it did not last long.

"It's been a long time."

"Too long," Garak agreed.

"What brings you here to the infirmary? I thought you only just arrived."

"The fight." Garak didn't elaborate, but Julian knew what he was talking about.

"Well, Lieutenant Harper is alive," Julian said, leaning back in his chair, "with several new false teeth. Unfortunately, he's determined to press some sort of charges."

"Indeed." Garak eyed the chair across from Julian's desk, and waited for Julian to nod before seating himself.

"It's a mess."

"As I predicted." Garak nodded knowingly.

"I wouldn't say you predicted it."

"I did." Garak's smile was tight-lipped, but present.

Julian rolled his eyes upwards, mentally rechecking the contents of the letters they had exchanged over the years. While it was true that neither he nor Garak had seen each other in probably upwards of half a decade, they kept in constant contact, their weekly lunches supplanted by weekly letters.

When Garak had become the Liason for Cardassian Interests in the Federation, or whatever impossibly long title he held, the former tailor's thoughts on the matter were less than gracious, something which he felt was necessary to write out to near novel-length proportions. When Julian wrote back to say that it was really quite honor to have been chosen for a position with such an long-winded title, Garak only said "It's an easy way to get rid of me, and the Federation, when the inevitable happens." Julian wasn't quite sure what he was talking about at the time, but he could make some very educated guesses now.

"I suppose you did predict it," conceded Julian.

"And, I imagine that the Cardassian ensign is in the brig."

"Naturally, but it doesn't seem to really be a deterrent like it use to be." Julian sighed. "Sometimes I feel like people use it as a get out of work free card. Start a fight a Quark's, and tomorrow you don't have muck about in the Jeffries tubes trying to integrate three systems of technology that stubbornly won't integrate."

"Many things changed with the departure of our dear Constable." Garak inclined his head, and looked away for a moment. Julian knew he was hiding something in that movement, and he knew Garak well enough to know that it didn't do any good guessing at what it meant. Of course, that didn't really stop Julian from doing it. Despite Garak's torture of the shapeshifter, and Odo's ever-dogged attempts to prove the Cardassian was a spy, the two had really become friends of a sort. It confused Julian, but he never commented on it. After all, some would say that he and Garak had an unusual friendship as well.

"Indeed," said Julian finally. It had been fifteen or so years, and there were things he missed, people he missed. He tried not to dwell on the disappearance of Sisko, the death of Jadzia, the exit of Odo, or the departure of the O'Briens. He especially tried not to dwell on the fact that Garak was no longer there. No, those were thoughts best left in the past.

Again, Garak smiled. "Well, seeing as the ensign isn't here as I had thought, I shall make my way to the brig."

Julian looked about the lab, first at the empty bed, and then at his monitor. "I'll join you."

"Worried?"

"Bored."

"The infirmary doesn't quite hold your attention the way it did in the war?"

"Garak," said Julian reprovingly.

"Sorry, Doctor, but you must admit that life hasn't really been what it was."

"Liar."

Garak smiled. "Well, shall we?"

Julian nodded, strode into the next room, had a word with a Bajoran nurse, and walked with Garak out onto the promenade. The changes it had undergone were slow, and Julian hardly noticed them. But with Garak by his side, his memories were too powerful, too overwhelming. Suddenly, the promenade seemed like another world. The black pillars had been modified as much was structurally allowable, and painted a yellow color. The lights had been changed to different colors, and banners of earthy reds, yellows, and oranges hung from the balconies.

Whether Garak noticed the changes or not was not clear in his demeanor, or the casual way he eyed every nook and cranny of the every corridor. This was just the way Garak always looked at everything; deceptively flippant, and always, always analyzing and memorizing. In his letters to Julian, he had said it was because of his training. His father, Enabrain Tain, would beat him if he failed to remember the minutest details of a scene. Julian felt that was the sort of conditioning one could never be rid of.

Finally, Garak spoke. "Still too cold, and the lights are still far too bright."

Julian laughed. To him, the promenade seemed like a much warmer place with all the colors replacing the dark of the Cardassian architecture, and the lights now spreading through the corridors where there had once only been shadows.

"I'm glad you find such joy in my discomfort," Garak grumbled, expertly navigating the Promenade as if it had never changed.

Chuckling, Julian said, "don't be silly, Garak. I just find joy in your company. It's good to speak to you in real time, without words getting in the way."

Garak stopped and eyed him, one ridge raised. Julian suddenly felt very naked, and there was a burning sensation in his cheeks as he blushed. He had forgotten how one look from Garak made him feel very young and very foolish. "The feeling is mutual," he said, and continued to walk on. "I trust the brig is in the same place."

"It is."


The head of security was a Bajoran wearing a Federation uniform named Yuran. He had worked there for seven years, but Julian knew little more than that about him. Julian did note that he didn't seem to trying hard to conceal his sneer upon seeing Garak.

"Aren't you supposed to salute, or something?" Garak asked the man.

"That's a human tradition," the Security Chief said pointedly. Julian wondered if he should have warned Garak about Yuran.

Garak pulled a face. "Here I thought joining the Federation was all about endeavoring to be human."

Julian rolled his eyes. He hadn't really thought about it at the time, but really, appointing Garak as Liason for Cardassia wasn't a terribly good idea. Even during his exile, he had been vocal about his distaste for things he called "implicit Federation goals of homogenization" and the "hypocrisy of neoliberalism". Sometimes Julian thought he sounded exactly like Eddington, something he liked to bring up if only to poke fun. The irony of it was simply too delicious. After all, Eddington hated Cardassians. In response though, Garak just smiled and said, "he had it exactly right."

Julian hated that despite his genetically enhanced intelligence, Garak's peculiar way of thinking could still simply run circles around him.

"Those uniforms really don't do much for Cardassassian skin color," Garak sniffed disapprovingly as he walked in.

Julian rolled his eyes. Yet again, the old, familiar, broken-record Garak struck again.

"Yet there you," Garak continued, "in a Star Fleet uniform, and despite the atrocious color, you're lucky not to be stripped of it."

The former Glinn didn't answer.

"Do you know who I am?"

"Yes," the imprisoned Cardassian ground out.

"Good, because I haven't a clue who you are."

Julian didn't know where Garak was going with this, but he kept out of it. He shifted from one foot to the other, failing to mask his confusion.

"But it doesn't matter," continued Garak. "You're just the nobody they needed."

"I was a Glinn."

Garak took a PADD out of his pocket, and scanned it. "And now you're an ensign. Ensign Patak Kran, if I'm not mistaken. You were being detained for failing to shoot Cardassian civilians under Dominion orders… which you only happened to survive because of good timing on part of the Cardassian uprisings…. and for thirteen years you worked on the reconstruction of Cardassia as a civilian. Of course you're an ensign after thirteen years being out of the military. If you kept your mouth shut, and your head down you would have been a Lieutenant in short time. But now I'm here standing in front of you saying that you need to be nobody."

The Cardassian didn't answer.

"I will be back tomorrow. You will give me your answer then."

With that, Garak turned on his heel and left the brig, smoothly bypassing the still sneering Bajoran with Julian not far behind him.

"Wait, Garak," Julian said. "What just happened there?"

"Really, Doctor, you've known me for how long and you still don't know what I'm saying?"

"All I ever know about you is that I will never know anything."

Garak smiled. "Shall we go see Lieutenant Harper?"

Julian just nodded.


Lieutenant Harper's quarters were smaller than Julian's by half, and painted the same yellow color as the promenade, with vases filled with plants from planets he couldn't even begin to guess placed artistically on the surface areas.

In the middle of the cheery surroundings sat Lieutenant Harper, dark like a gathering storm cloud.

Garak smiled as he sat down across from the science officer, hooking his left ankle on his right knee. "I don't grovel. It's a cultural trait, I think. Maybe even racial," he started. Harper glanced over at the Julian who was standing awkwardly at the threshold, and Garak followed his eyes. "Don't mind the Doctor. He's just here to make sure nothing too unpleasant happens."

All the letters Garak wrote made more sense to Julian now. He had a hard time imagining it because he had never seen it, but now it was becoming all to clear. Garak smiled while he threatened. It threw Julian off balance, and he wasn't even the subject of his scrutiny. He couldn't imagine the affect it had on Harper.

Lieutenant Harper glared. "It doesn't matter if you do or don't, I'm pressing charges. He was in clear violation."

"Yes."

"Then why are you here?"

"Because, Lieutenant Harper, you have yet to learn a vital and important fact."

"And that is?"

"It doesn't matter what the truth is."

Julian couldn't help himself. He snorted.

Garak raised a ridge, but continued. "Relations are not well between Cardassia and the Federation."

Harper didn't answer.

"And the last thing we want is another war."

"You think a war will start because Cardassian punched me?"

"No. Because you forgot a Cardassian is not Federation no matter what uniform he or she wears."

"You're losing me here."

"Sir." Garak added, examining his fingernails.

"I'm sorry?"

"You're losing me, sir," Garak supplied, not looking up.

Harper's eyes trailed down Garak's neck, and across the collar of his burgundy ensemble.

Garak caught his eyes, rested his hand on his thigh, and sighed. "Though I question the logic in it, it seems that tradition has it that Ambassadors Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary in the Liaising of Cardassian/Federation Affairs are not afforded pips on the collar. Though, by that excruciatingly long title, I think we can both guess who outranks who here."

"Yes, sir."

"My point is this, Lieutenant. Looks are deceiving. Push this, and you'll lose Cardassia."

"What if I don't want it, sir?"

"You speak for everyone, do you?"

"I speak for enough."

Garak laughed, for a moment, and his face morphed into the one Julian was more than a little bit frightened of. He was still smiling, but his eyes were cold and dead. It sent shivers down Julian's spine. "You seem quite pale Lieutenant. I'm not sure you've quite recovered. I'm sure the Doctor would like to confine you to your quarters until he has a chance to reexamine you. Get some rest, and drink plenty of fluids."

With the smile still hovering on his face, Garak got up and strode towards the door. "Right, Doctor?"

Caught off guard, Julian could only stutter. "Yes, of course."