INT. BASHIR'S QUARTERS
ENTER BASHIR and GARAK en route to lunch. Bashir moves across the living room and embarks on a disorganised search.
BASHIR
Two minutes, let me find it. It's a classic.
Garak has been lent 'classics' before. He occupies himself studying the room. It's neat, well ordered and surprisingly bare. There are a few journals on a shelf, a fake plastic plant in the corner…
… just enough personal effects to add a human touch.
BASHIR
(still searching) You'll love it. Truman Capote is one of the great authors of human literature. All his characters are pretending to be something they're not.
Garak is still observing. No photos, no family mementos. Interesting.
GARAK
Do you know, I've not had the chance to really look at Starfleet Officer quarters before. At least… not on this station.
Despite searching a tidy room Bashir can't find what he's looking for. He is now under the sofa.
BASHIR
(muffled) And what's the verdict?
GARAK
The Federation may have re-decorated, but the architecture is unmistakably Cardassian.
Garak notes a part of the wall where the Starfleet-grey paint has started to peel. He scratches off a little more to reveal a bright flash of Cardassian colours underneath.
GARAK
Most interesting. (beat) Do you ever wonder Doctor, who lived in this room before you arrived? What happened to them? Who they might have been?
Bashir re-emerges from under the sofa, increasingly frustrated.
BASHIR
Look around will you. It's a data clip with a red cover. I know it's here somewhere.
The search moves into the bedroom. This too is oddly lacking in personal items, except…
Garak picks up a STUFFED BEAR from a shelf. He is delighted.
GARAK
You have a teddy bear!
BASHIR
(embarrassed) What? Um. No! No. He's not mine. Not really. He belongs … belonged to someone else. I inherited him.
GARAK
(Not buying it) Really? From who?
Julian realises what he's saying is true. This is Jules's bear.
Bashir knows he should shut up. Right now.
But there are so manypeople on the station. So many eyes watching. So many cameras and comm badges and lights. All the damn time. This is a chance to tell someone who he really is. He needs to tell someone.
BASHIR
A little boy who never grew up.
Garak reads the emotion and misunderstands the details. An accident or an illness… brother most likely. Or a cousin?
BASHIR
He was (beat) my friend.
Garak isn't going to get the truth: but Elim gets the message.
Another beat and Bashir is back to his enthusiastic-self again, cheerfully jumbling around the contents of the room in search of a lost book.
Garak regards the patched-together bear with professional interest.
GARAK
Is this your sewing? It's rather good. A tailor notices these things.
BASHIR
Some of the stuffing comes out, now and then. It's not easy to hold him together.
My mother, she was all set to throw him out but I wouldn't have it. Ah-ha! (found it) Here it is.
Garak puts the bear back on the mostly empty shelf in the mostly empty room. Bashir hands him the dataclip. It shows a red cover: "Breakfast At Tiffany's & Other Stories" by Truman Capote, author of In Cold Blood.
BASHIR
It was on the table. Right in front of me all along. Don't know why I didn't see it.
GARAK
No. Neither do I.
Bashir moves towards the door.
BASHIR
So… lunch at Quark's?
Garak considers pressing for concrete details. He is the son of Enabran Tain: the man who can glean information even from an empty space. He could get the truth.
But their regular table is waiting. And this is the doctor. Garak decides, for once… that's all he needs to know.
GARAK
Why not? Lunch at Quark's. And you can tell me some other stories.
Business as usual again. They move to EXIT together.
GARAK
You know Doctor, I wonder if they're serving I'danian spice pudding today…
FADE OUT.