"A punnet of Terran strawberries," Bashir all but barked at a replicator, shifting the crate of rokassa juice on his hip before putting it on top. Nerys didn't think she'd ever seen him bristling with so much cold, collected anger – or, no, she had. What was unusual about this anger was that it wasn't as cold as usual, or as controlled.
Bashir looked ready to punch someone.
"Have you ever seen him this angry?" she asked in an undertone.
"I have not," said Garak. "Quite entrancing, isn't it?"
Kira looked at him disgustedly, but Garak was looking exclusively at Bashir, as the three of them stood on the transporter pad. If Garak felt uncertain or hesitant about beaming down to the planet at this time of night, he didn't show it at all – if anything, he looked almost bemused, and like Kira, he kept looking at Bashir and studying him intently.
Bashir wasn't looking at either of them.
"I don't suppose you care to explain, my dear?" asked Garak as they began to weave their way through the streets of Vaneel – one of Bashir's orphanages was here, which made sense, and the office of the Third Minister, too. Bashir walked the streets with studied ease, as though he'd grown up here all his life, and Garak had to jog to keep up with Bashir and Kira's naturally long strides, different to his neat little walk.
Bashir didn't even reply until they were over the threshold of the Vaneel home.
The lights were on in the front room, although it was the middle of the night, and Kira's heart flipped in her chest when she laid eyes on twelve children all huddled together beside the fireplace – all the Cardassians together, settled in an almost armoured formation.
"I might have known," said the woman of about forty, turning around from the children. "Of course it would be you, Doctor Bashir, I—"
"Talk to them," said Bashir as he walked straight past her. "I'll deal with you in a moment."
The woman bristled, her hands clenching into fists at her sides, but Bashir didn't even look at her as he dropped to his knees on the rug with the children, touching some of their hands and squeezing some of their shoulders, setting the crate of drinks beside the oldest of them, who was sitting with a boy wrapped in blankets against her chest.
Bashir was smiling slightly as he opened the lid of the box of Terran fruits he'd bought, and he was gently encouraging the children to try them, speaking about their tartness and their sweetness, pointing at the little seeds that covered them.
"Hello, Madam Turin," said Garak pleasantly. "Major Kira, this is Turin Sorel, the facilitator of this establishment, and Madam, this is Kira Nerys, our first officer on Deep Space Nine."
"Who are you?" demanded Turin coldly, and Garak smiled his glittering smile.
"I, Madam, am Garak. Just Garak."
"I see," said Turin, her lip curling in a slight snarl. "The third of the doctor's pet reptiles."
"I like to think of myself as the first," said Garak without missing a beat.
"Garak," said Nerys, and Garak looked at her innocently as Nerys met Turin's gaze, looking at her seriously. "The doctor advised us this was an emergency."
"I'm sure he thinks so," said Turin coolly. "For all he claims to keep these children's interests in mind, he's appeared out of nowhere to intervene in one of them going to a good home."
Bashir was aside with the children for twenty or thirty minutes, and Garak, mercifully, was quiet as Nerys sipped tea with Turin, and one of the other orphanage workers came in and out, glancing at the Cardassian children before she went to the other rooms, doing more rounds.
Once or twice, a Bajoran child would come out of the dormitories for a drink or just to look at whatever was going on.
"Don't you think they should go to bed?" Nerys asked Bashir as he came away from the children.
"I do," said Bashir. "I told them so – I told them that none of them needs to be up except Rugal and Lora. But these children are sensible and intelligent, Major, and they have learned from experience. They know they're safer in a group."
Nerys didn't just see anger on Turin's face – she saw shame, too, and perhaps that was why Turin was quiet as she led them into her office.
"Lora informs me," said Bashir softly as Nerys took a seat across from Turin's desk and Garak hung back, resting his back against the frame of the door so that he could keep half his gaze on them and the other on the children in the other room, "that you stopped her from contacting me. That you also told the other children they couldn't call me about any health concerns until Monday."
"You're a busy man, Doctor," said Turin. "Do you really want the children calling you at all hours of the day?"
"Yes," said Bashir crisply. "I have informed them of that – I've informed you of that too."
"How did they contact you?"
"They contacted me by using their ingenuity and their independent thought," said Bashir coolly. "I'm not about to explain to you precisely how in case you take it upon yourself to try to stop them from doing that, too. So, tell me, Madam Turin, please. What's so awful about Rugal's new adoptive parents that you wanted to ensure they were kept secret from me?"
"Perhaps we just didn't want you interfering," said Turin.
"Perhaps," agreed Bashir, and he smiled so widely, his teeth so white, that for a moment, he really looked Cardassian, and Nerys sat back in her seat, watching his face. "It's a self-fulfilling prophecy – so here I am, interfering. What shall I interfere with first? I know. Perhaps the part where those loving new parents you've procured for Rugal told him he was the progeny of bloodthirsty, animalistic savages, but that they had ever intention of raising him to be above those instincts."
Turin's face went abruptly pale and chalky.
Bashir's laugh was jagged. "Oh, I see," he said, still dripping this venomous sarcasm that Nerys had never seen from him before. "You didn't even know. Was it there idea to stop the children from contacting me? Didn't you even think about why they'd be so scared? Of course not. God forbid someone look after these—"
Garak interrupted, saying something that wasn't in Bajoran and wasn't Standard either. He spoke quietly, urgently, and Bashir whirled on him, almost shouted. Garak responded very coldly.
Bashir turned back to Turin, putting his hands on the back of one of the chairs.
"I know it frustrates you that I interfere," he said quietly, meeting Turin's gaze. "I know that you care about these children, that you're doing your best with what you've got, that you were worried I'd stand in the way of your having one less mouth to feed. But, Madam Turin, these children went out into Vaneel in the middle of the night to call me, because they were frightened you weren't doing your due diligence. That you weren't, or wouldn't, listen to their concerns. Are they right?"
"They're cousins of Rugal's adoptive parents," said Turin.
"Is there documentation of that?" asked Bashir. "The boy's never seen either of them before now. The language they used was familiar, of course. Apparently his previous adoptive parents said things like that every day."
Turin looked ill.
"What's special about him?" asked Bashir.
"Special?"
"Is he the son of someone important?" asked Bashir. "Does he know something he shouldn't? Is he some kind of prodigy?"
Turin was looking at him blankly.
"Madam Turin," said Garak gently, "the young man, a pure-blooded Cardassian, was adopted as a young child by a Bajoran couple, taught to hate his people. A year after their deaths, he is now being pursued by another Bajoran couple – a couple who impressed upon you the importance of avoiding any interference from an outside party. The good doctor is inferring from this series of events, as is only natural, a hidden motive."
"They're well-off," said Turin. She said it powerlessly, her voice audibly sickened, and Nerys could see that as guilty as she felt, as obvious as she made it, Bashir could see it too, because he didn't bite at her as much as he had been doing. "He'd be well cared for."
"It doesn't matter if they dress him in gold clothes every day," said Bashir, "if they're going to tell him he's scum while they do it."
"Doctor Bashir—"
"What records do you have on the boy?" he interrupted. "Not on him now – on his last adoption records?"
"I don't know," said Turin. "That would be on the old Cardassian system, it's no longer online."
Bashir looked back to Garak, who nodded his head.
"Did he ask you to come?" Turin asked quietly a few minutes later, when they were sitting in the other room. Half of the Cardassian children were asleep, including the boy in question – Rugal – and most of the younger ones. Adorak Lora was sitting up, Rugal leaning against her chest and two young Cardassian children leaning into her either side.
All of them had the blankets that Bashir had procured for them, and although they'd eaten the strawberries, she could see that they'd only split two of the bottles of rokassa juice between them all – they'd set the rest of the crate aside.
"They'll share it between them and the others tomorrow," Turin had told her quietly when she'd seen Nerys looking. "They're very particular about doing things like that – Lora is, anyway. She's in charge."
Adorak Lora couldn't be older than sixteen.
Bashir and Garak were arguing. Nerys couldn't hear what they were saying, but she could see Bashir gesticulating wildly, all but bouncing in his place, and Garak gesticulating in a more controlled, collected way, right back. After a few minutes of this, Bashir sighed dramatically, put out his hand, and Garak put an eyepiece in his hand, which Bashir clipped over his eye.
He was the one who sat down at the console, Garak over his shoulder.
Turin was watching them, her lips twisted. "They're enjoined?" she asked.
"I don't know that it's that formal," said Nerys. "But yes."
"He's his teacher," said Turin. "I thought they were the same age, I didn't realise that this Garak was… But he's his teacher, his patron. Bashir is his student."
Nerys didn't pretend to know the ins and outs of it. Dax had talked about it, and so had Sisko, a little. Dax always liked to talk about different cultures and their expectations of different relationships, the different ways they thought of romance.
Nerys had never considered the Cardassians truly capable of romance, and watching Garak and Bashir together, knowing the context of the education Garak was giving him, that idea was almost given confirmation, because it was so… practical. Garak taught Julian; Julian learned from Garak.
There was sex, too, and it was rough, Cardassian sex – and Nerys had seen them argue like a married Cardassian couple, seen Bashir match Garak's physicality step for step, seen Bashir look up to Garak's face, seen Bashir bare his teeth and sharpen his eyes and smile like a Cardassian could, like Nerys had thought only a Cardassian could, until she'd seen Bashir's lips move in just the same way.
But that would be easy. That would be simple.
Because Nerys had also seen Garak kiss Bashir, soften and lean back and turn warm and easy when Bashir touched his chest or his waist. He'd seen Bashir sink and melt against Garak's side, seen Garak gently adjust Bashir's hair or the set of his shirt; she'd seen Bashir pick at Garak's clothes, too, fix his hair, reach out and scratch tiny pieces of shed from his scales.
She'd seen Garak, just like a second ago, intervene and tell Bashir to calm down – assuming that was what he'd said.
"Bashir is his student," said Nerys.
"I didn't realise," said Turin again. "Patronage is too Cardassian – I thought that the Cardassian he was sleeping with had to be like him. Young. But look at them: that relationship is purely Cardassian. Mentorship and study, cutting and honing. It never occurred to me that the Cardassian he was sleeping with could be like that. He's too kind, too compassionate. He can act Cardassian, but he puts it aside again like he's taking off his coat."
"You don't like him?" asked Nerys, and Turin wrapped her arms over her chest, leaning forward.
"How can I dislike him?" she asked. "Every time he spits at me I know he's right. They're children, it's not their fault. But there's only so much we can do. That I can do. He's a good man, isn't he?"
"Yes," said Nerys. "He is. I know it must be… difficult, having him interfere for Cardassian children, and not the others."
"He attends to the Bajoran children," muttered Turin. "If they have injuries while he's here. He just… He attends the Cardassians, first. He knows it's easier for the Bajorans than the others. It's a miracle he sleeps."
"I'm not sure he does," said Nerys wryly.
Bashir's hands were moving fast on the computer console, and Garak was nodding as text filtered over the screen, passing him a data rod to save everything to. Bashir passed the eyepiece back to Garak, letting him finish as he went back to the children, crouching with them.
He picked up one of the youngest of the children in his arms, balancing them on his hip as he took the hand of another, and Kira watched as Bashir walked the children back into their dormitory, a few at a time.
Lora and Rugal stayed in place.
They were speaking in Kardasi – or at least, Lora was, very pointedly, looking over Bashir's shoulder, at Turin.
Bashir was shaking his head.
Garak said something – it was the language he'd spoken before, but Nerys didn't think it was Kardasi.
She often felt out of her depth, as though she were seeing something foreign, something strange and incomprehensible, when she watched Garak and Bashir with one another. It was like watching a play or trying to understand poetry in another language, knowing you didn't understand the words or the underlying meaning, or the meaning underlying that.
"What did they say?" asked Nerys when Bashir came up.
"Rugal doesn't want to be here when those people come back to see him tomorrow," said Bashir. "Lora suggested she bring him to the station."
Nerys stared at him, and Bashir added, "Lora's sixteen as of last week, Major. She can leave Bajor if she wants."
"And Rugal?"
"She's old enough to leave and get a job," said Bashir coolly. "Not to adopt a boy barely younger than she is."
"She wouldn't be managing the young man alone, as I just informed the doctor—"
"We're not going to look after him!" Bashir hissed at Garak.
"Why not? It's clear they're not being looked after here."
"By all means, Garak, why don't we bring all twelve of them home with us? You can open a schoolhouse next to Keiko's."
Garak crossed his arms over his chest, arching his eye ridges. "Will you call the shuttle, my dear, or will I?"
Turin was looking between the two of them uncertainly. "You really intend to…?"
"No, Madam Turin, we do not," said Bashir firmly, shooting a Human hand gesture at Garak that Nerys hadn't seen before, but that made Garak gasp in indignant horror. "Garak's just winding me up. But I am… concerned, given how nervous Rugal is. Apart from my being more comfortable with his being on the station, I think it's where he'd be most comfortable too."
"And Lora?"
"Lora's of age to make her own decisions," said Bashir. "The only thing that puts her off doing it is the idea that she won't be able to come back – and I'm sure you know, Madam, that the only reason she's here right now is for the other children, not herself."
"A true daughter of Cardassia," said Garak softly, with very obvious approval. "But of course, Madam, I can understand why you shouldn't like to dispatch the boy from the planet, that you should prefer to retain him here. In that case, one of us might stay to safeguard his interests – I, of course, am happy to help."
Garak spread his hands, and smiled his Cardassian smile.
Turin said, after less than a second's hesitation, "I'll give him dispensation to go to Deep Space Nine."
They looked a picture on the shuttle, Nerys knew, Garak and Bashir sitting together, Lora and Rugal across from them, Nerys on their other side. People kept looking over at them, especially with Lora's softened eye ridges and neck, and the Bajoran angles over her nose. They probably thought they were one strange and twisted family.
"How was my accent?" asked Garak.
"Improving," said Bashir. "You speak Urdu like a Frenchman."
"Is that bad?"
"It's horrible," said Bashir, his lips curving into a small, affectionate smile as he patted Garak's chest. "But it's nice to find something you're bad at for once."
"That wasn't Kardasi you were speaking?" asked Nerys.
"I had no guarantee our friend in the orphanage had no Kardasi," said Garak mildly. "You certainly command more of the language than you might admit to, Major."
"And what were you telling him that was so important you didn't want me or Turin to hear it?" asked Nerys.
"He was telling me, rather clumsy, that I was being unfair," said Bashir. "God forbid two Bajorans hear that the great and illustrious Garak, Cardassian servant in exile, is telling a Human he should care about their feelings."
"I was hardly doing that, Doctor," said Garak coolly. "I was simply reminding you of your own flaws – that you do care."
Across from them, Lora laughed, stifling the sound, and Rugal was trying to hide his smile.
"Something funny, children?" asked Garak.
"Doctor Bashir always says you're a pest," said Lora. "That he hates you."
"Does he indeed?" asked Garak, looking at Bashir, who didn't meet his gaze.
"We never believed it either," said Lora, and when Garak tried to touch Bashir's shoulder, Bashir slapped his hand away.
Nerys realised she was smiling too, and she put her hand over her mouth.
The Chief had said he and Keiko had had dinner with Garak and Bashir, the other day – he'd said he'd been surprised by how well it had gone.
"Can we see your regnars?" asked Rugal.
"Tomorrow," said Bashir.
"Can we go in the holosuites?" asked Lora.
"No," said Garak firmly. He added something in Urdu, and Bashir elbowed him hard enough in the side that Garak wheezed.
"What did he say?" asked Nerys.
"I'm not repeating it," said Bashir coolly. His cheeks had darkened.
"I said," started Garak, and Bashir drew back his arm: Garak caught him by the shoulder, and pressed a kiss to the point of his elbow. Bashir's cheeks darkened further, and he dropped his arm.
"What do you think Sisko is going to say?" asked Nerys.
Bashir put his head in his hands.
"I think," said Garak, "that he'll be less surprised than one might expect."
"He's not going to be surprised," mumbled Bashir into his palms. "He's going to laugh."
"Is that bad?" asked Lora.
"From Sisko? No," said Nerys. "No, it's… He's a fair man."
"What happens if I'm important?" asked Rugal. "Like you told Madam Turin. If it's in the records that I am?"
"Do you want to be important, child?" asked Garak.
"No," said Rugal.
"Then you won't be," Garak promised. Rugal met Garak's gaze, but then he looked away, and nodded. For all it sounded insane, it did seem to bring him comfort.
They went the rest of the shuttle ride in silence.
Tomorrow—
Well.
They'd deal with tomorrow when it came.
