Disclaimer: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine belongs to Paramount Pictures, UPN Television, and is not mine, nor are any of the characters including Elim Garak, Dr. Julian Bashir or any others mentioned here. Written for katharos8's request in Fic on Demand and is set shortly after the escape from the Dominion prison and their return to Deep Space Nine. Written Garak's POV.
"Sleight of Hand Man" by Karen
Elim Garak is a man whose entire life has always been one composed of secrets, both his own and those of others. As an operative of the Order it was his task to ferret out secrets, and as a protege of his idol, Embram Taim, Garakhad always felt pride that he had been the one groomed as Tain's heir apparent. That single-minded goal had been his dream, truth be told, and the height of his ambition.
And given enough time and effort one day he might even exceed his mentor. One day that never came.
However, when the Cardassian Occupation had abandoned the space station, Terrok Nor, in orbit over the planet Bajor to the Federation troops, that had been the defining moment when his dream came crashing down around him.
Garak had been forced into exile on that very same station. The irony of the situation is not lost on him.
So Garak took on a new role, one that exhibited much the same properties and characteristics of a chameleon; blending in with his surroundings, making himself of use to the new owners of the station: Deep Space Nine. His lengthy tenure aboard the station has been a series of adjustments and not just because of the change in residents, from when the Cardassians ran the place and called it Terrok Nor
Garak has been many things in his lifetime, son, student, spy, traitor, enemy, a tailor, and finally a friend to a Federation human doctor. It's that last niche that proved to be more problematic than the others. After all the only individual that he can by any stretch of the imagination consider a friend is Dr. Julian Bashir. A Federation doctor, and the statio's Chief Medical officer.
Dr. Julian Bashir knows a thing or two about secrets, especially the ones that concern keeping secrets. After all, the good doctor kept the secret of his gene resequencing a secret for fifteen years.
Perhaps that had been the spark that drew the two men together. Perhaps Garak sensed a kindred spirit, a willing ear and an attentive audience for what had become part of their daily ritual: eating lunch together at Quark's bar while discussing philosophy.
Throughout this budding friendship or at least tolerance of each other's outlooks despite Bashir's friends and colleagues would not so subtly point out that it was unlikely friendship at best; and at worst, a mismatched pair: A Cardassian exile and a Starfleet doctor. Both men's' opinions on issues and philosophies hardly ever march within spitting distance of each other.
Yet it held. Even when Garak had his doubts and they were many. They are legion. It is a source of both amazement and a matter of fact that one man is capable of carrying many facets to his personality, so many different layers and so many secrets.
Garak can sense a general cause of the fine lines around the human doctor's almond brown eyes; it's the inner turmoil that Garak can sense. He is well aware that often Bashir's more passionate side is at odds with his good sense. After all of their regular meetings for lunch at Quark's bar have picked up with their usual pace and banter, since Bashir returned from the Dominion prison, in company of Commander Worf and General Martok.
Garak would have given much to have been there to listen in on the debriefing that the three men conducted with Captain Sisko, or to at least have gotten his hands on the report. Of course being the good and loyal Starfleet officers that they are, they would not invite the resident Cardassian exile to that meeting would be unheard of.
Bashir had not proved to be his his usual talkative self on the matter, also he had been rather stubborn and difficult to draw out on the subject.
A perfect eidetic memory not withstanding, Bashir claimed to be have difficulty sorting through his recollections of everything that happened; that what he remembers are not as reliable as he would like to believe.
As a Cardassian Garak appreciated the subtle as well as not so subtle tricks the Dominion likely would have employed while the three men were held prisoner. Still, if that is the cause of the fine lines around the human doctor's almond brown eyes perhaps forcing the issue, or pushing too hard for more information is the wrong tactic. After all pressing Bashir on the subject might do more harm than good.
Garak had never heard of or seen any other doctor, Starfleet or otherwise, take the Physican's Oath: First Do No Harm, as seriously as Bashir's did.
It might have been due to his commitment to his chosen profession, or it might have more than a little to due with his ego kicking in; all the same it's tearing at him.
"So what do you do? How do you help some one who entire career is involved with helping and healing every one else?" Garak asks his reflection in the shiny surface of his work desk in his tailor shop. "Be his friend. Although I still would like to know exactly what occurred. Curiosity, that will be the cause of my inevitable death, that is if ill fortune does not do me in untimely."