With a little time now on his hands, and feeling a need to be soothed, Garak turned his attention to the parcel in front of him on the desk. Slowly, with great care, Garak began to remove the packaging. Eventually, the contents were revealed. He raised it in front of him at arm's length to admire it: an abstract painting, combining elements of Cardassian and Bajoran design, created by a young woman at the start of a promising career. In the bottom left-hand corner, a single initial acted as the artist's signature: Z. Tora Ziyal had painted this. It was the only relic of her that Garak possessed, and it traveled with him between Earth and Cardassia Prime every time he made the journey.
With a sigh, Garak stood up from his chair and, carrying the painting carefully between both hands, went over to the wall opposite his desk. There, in a little alcove, stood a small table upon which, at his instruction, there was a vase of freshly cut perek flowers, scarlet bright. Leaning over the table, Garak hung the painting on the wall. Sitting at his desk, he would be able to look up and see it, and take courage from it. He stood for a while studying it. Focusing on the detail, he picked out delicate meya lilies, and mekla, and long winding elta, and copper ithian leaves, narrow and elegant. There were Edosian orchids too, for him, and from Bajor there were lilacs for Colonel Kira, and leaves from the moba tree, and spiny twists of basil. When Garak moved his head back to capture the whole, the intricate pattern of flowers and leaves swirled and intertwined.
"You're remembered," he said to her, as he did every time he performed this quiet ceremony. He often talked to Ziyal. "As long as I live, you'll be remembered."
"Right that's enough of that. I expect this kind of sappy sentiment from the humans but the Cardassians? No, no, no you're better than that."
Garak still looking at the cherished painting, reluctantly broke out of his reverie at the intrusion.
"I mean really, has the multiverse gone mad? Have the Klingons started playing chess with the Romulans? Have the Ferengi dedicated themselves to missionary work?" Q paused dramatically, "Have the Humans brought back shoes and sandals?"
Had he been a younger man, Elim Garak would have already found dozens of ways to deal with this intruder. Now that he was older and wiser, he found the figure before him intriguing. He played along, what else?
"I'm afraid we haven't been formally introduced. Who are you?"
"Moi? I go by many names but you can call me Q, big fan by the way." Q over-dramatically grabbed the Castellan's hand and shook it vigourously.
"It must be difficult to catch the attention of a superior being such as yourself. I'm flattered." Replied a puzzled Garak.
"As you should be. Yes, your life has been most entertaining. From spy to exile to the most powerful man in Cardassia. Well done."
"Thank you." he nodded, his blue eyes never moving from Q's own.
"Although I must say your 7-year stint as tailor was a bit tedious, but nevertheless." he paused pensively, "And, I do love that I'm getting the respect I deserve from you mortals. Your new friend Jean-Luc could learn a few things from you, Cardassian."
"My new friend…you mean Captain Picard."
"Yes, the very same. He certainly upholds the French stereotype. You know what I mean."
"I'm afraid I don't…"
"Come now, you used to live in Paris. Let's just say he's stuffy. In fact…" With a click of the fingers, Garak saw Picard materialize before his eyes dressed in his Federation-issued pyjamas and he seemed to hover slightly above the ground, bed-height, until he fell unceremoniously to the floor. Q could have easily prevented the fall but Garak got the feeling he wasn't that kind of person.
He was starting to acclimatized to his surroundings until his eyes trained onto the omnipotent jester's grin above him.
"Q!" Picard boomed. "What are you doing here? What am I doing here?"
"Patience, mon Capitaine. I brought you here to show you how to treat a Q properly."
"What are you talking about…" He looked behind him and took notice of the Cardassian, "Castellan?"
"Hello, Captain, it's nice to see you again and please it's just plain and simple Garak. I have just been making an acquaintance with your… friend."
"He is not my friend." Picard replied instinctively.
Garak didn't know either of them well but it became startlingly evident to him that the Captain was not going to be in the mood for Q's antics. Regardless of the late hour.
Q looked towards the Castellan and pointed towards Picard.
"You see how he speaks to me? Honestly, the nerve."
As per usual Picard decided to completely ignore the all-powerful presence and focused on Garak who was smiling at the back-and-forth between his two late-night guests.
"We've not known each other long Caste- Garak, but you must trust me when I say this man is deceitful and contemptible and won't stop until he submits you to play ridiculous games for his own twisted sense of entertainment." The Captain's voice grew to crescendo, "You must not accept anything he offers you!"
"Do not fret Captain, while I don't doubt your advice I have to say this, Q has been nothing but courteous to me and has made no such offers as those you have suggested."
"But he will and when he does…" Picard began only to be interjected with a click of the fingers and another flash of light. The Captain was gone.
"Right that's enough of that. I'm not sure he's learnt a thing." Q said, deflated.
"I'm afraid I'm agree with the Captain Q. It was very nice to meet you but I am happy as I am here. You, of all people, must know how much I've yearned to come back home and how long I've waited. I just can't imagine you offering anything else."
"What if…" Q moved closer to the Cardassian. "What if I made you an offer you can't refuse?"
Garak paused to think. Q's intention seemed glaringly obvious now. He started by talking about sentimentality…
"Ziyal." His voice was lost in his throat.
Q smiled, "Well done Cardassian, you catch on quick, well in a toddler learning to walk sort of way. She's been dead for over 10 years, you really need to get over her. Find a new gal. I hear Cardassians like a man with power. You know, with life-spans the way they are these days, you're not even that old anymore. What is age anyway? Just a number…"
Garak let Q ramble on, he wasn't listening anyway. He started to feel the wave of emotion he had tried to suppress since that day he returned to Deep Space 9.
A/N: the italics at the beginning are a snippet from Una McCormack's The Crimson Shadow. The snippet from the book is taken out of context of the rest of the book. Garak becomes Castellan later in the book but I've taken a part from chapter 2. Also Cardassian Embassy is on Paris and Garak was exiled there (again!) as ambassador in The Never Ending Sacrifice. Please r&r if you like...and if you don't like so i can improve :)