Summary: As a rule, Garak never called the doctor by his first name. Garak has been known to break his own rules in order to manipulate any given situation to his advantage.
A/N: Thank you for the reviews, AlwaysAbby, Haro kzoids, The Tystie, and GeorgieGinger! This somehow ended up very fluffy and h/c-ish...
The first occurrence had been oddly anticlimactic. One would have expected the incident to happen during a medical emergency or during a time of great peril. Garak rarely verbally slipped unless he was under pressure. Even then, he chose his words carefully and to the greatest effect during an emergency.
He was intently working on a fine ball gown for a Betazoid senator. The gauzy fabric had been slipping around for a few minutes now while he tried to control the oddly shaped ruffle. The ruffle either had to go or be cut and hemmed again. Doctor Bashir had been sitting with him, telling him about his and Jadzia's latest science project involving different kinds of dissolving acids and how they could be used in ship manufacturing plants. Garak had gotten lost in the mix of industrial and chemistry jargon, but he listened politely. The material slithered out of his hands again from where he was trying to pin it evenly.
"Julian, give me my laser shears." He had his hands full and the doctor was sitting right beside his tool kit.
Garak had reached backward to grasp the scissors once his friend placed them in his palm. He felt nothing. He twitched his fingers encouragingly for the human to put the object in his hand, but the gesture had no effect. He glanced back from his bent position, frowning slightly. He had to trim this hemline now or he worried for his sanity. The human looked as though he was trying to imitate a fish.
"Doctor? I would like the assistance."
"Oh!" The doctor snatched up the tool and gave it to the tailor.
As Garak began trimming the ruffle, he ventured a question. "Is there something on your mind? You looked preoccupied for a moment there."
Julian fidgeted with the fabric scraps on the table. "You called me by my first name."
The tailor paused for a moment before he quickly went back to cutting off the excess blue cloth. "So I did. I apologize if the informality made you feel uncomfortable."
"No. I liked that you called me by my first name. It's actually accepted in many human cultures, especially between friends."
Garak's shoulders were tensing. "On Cardassia, calling an individual by their title is a greater sign of respect than discarding it. I would prefer to keep using yours, if you don't mind."
Julian did his best to retain a neutral expression, but he could not deny that the refusal stung a little. "Of course. That's fine."
The Cardassian put down the scissors and met his gaze.
"Doctor, I can ill afford to frequently call you by your first name, not because I don't have any ties to you, but rather because I do have them. I have enemies who would not hesitate to exploit our connection and that position puts you in considerable danger. "
"Don't you think I can look after myself? You've been training me in surveillance techniques and self-defense."
The tailor gave him a soft smile. "And you have risen to the challenge admirably, but I believe that there is a human phrase about erring on the side of caution. To be frank, I do not want to find out if you can avoid capture. I never sought to bring trouble upon you."
Julian's dark eyes held a hint of sadness. "Ever the vigilant spy."
Garak picked up his scissors again. He cut through the ruffle in one smooth movement of his arm, tilting his hand at a precise angle.
"I believe that my current vocation is tailoring."
The doctor's expression became as masklike as his friend's. "As long as you remain the 'plain and simple Garak' I befriended, I have no complaints."
"Always, doctor."
The second time Garak called Julian by name had been in a runabout. They had just escaped from a Dominion prison camp. They were filthy, wounded, exhausted, and hungry. The Cardassian had taken over the controls of the runabout while Martok assisted Worf to a bunk in the back. Julian joined them shortly and he unearthed the Federation medical kit to heal Worf's injuries and give him the necessary medicine to prevent infection. While his comrade was being examined again, Martok ordered a meal from the runabout replicator.
The doctor ran the dermal regenerator over Worf. He froze when he smelled food and he licked his lips and swallowed. His stomach was empty. He shook himself. He had patients to treat first and then he could finally see to his own needs. After tending to Worf, he turned to Martok and ran his scanner over him. As usual, the eye wound showed up on his tricorder, but he knew that Martok would not appreciate his offer of an artificial replacement again. Like him, the Klingon was famished and he was deficient in several vital vitamins and nutrients, but he seemed to be remedying that himself. The doctor gave him an additional shot and Martok stated his thanks. Bashir went to go check on Garak.
The tailor was piloting with effortless efficiency and he seemed more at peace than ever. The doctor could tell that he was relieved to be free of the enclosed space by the life support systems behind the walls of the prison camp. Yet, there was a barely discernible sheen of hurt behind his eyes. The Cardassian did not have the time to properly grieve for Tain and it would catch up to him at some point, but he retained his composure while in Dominion space. Bashir sat down silently beside him in the co-pilot's seat and took out his tricorder. Garak turned in his chair.
"I think you'll find that my pulse is back within its normal parameters."
"Hmmm." The doctor was intent on his screen.
His doctor's instincts and observations told him that Garak was emotionally worn, but fine. He wanted to double check everything, just in case there was something he had overlooked. Now the damned screen was shaking. It must be from the turbulence of the spacecraft.
"Perhaps you should follow the Klingons' example and make use of the replicator. I've heard that the Dominion is fond of starving their prisoners and I need you to remain conscious. I could do with a meal myself."
The doctor smiled softly at Garak's subtle show of concern. "All right, but I don't think I can keep up a conversation about Cardassian literature this time."
Garak nodded and waited while his friend brought them meals. The doctor sat down with his vegetables, rice, and meat, and he proceeded to dig in. He practically inhaled the food. For once, the Cardassian did not admonish him about his impatient eating habits.
They finished and Bashir set his bowl aside with a contented groan. He leaned back in his chair and his eyelids began drooping. Martok joined them, informing them that Worf was sleeping. The doctor did not respond, only blinking heavily over at the Klingon. Julian heard the distant sound of a chair squeaking as Garak stood and handed over the piloting of the runabout to Martok.
He stated that he would be back in a moment. The doctor jumped a little when he felt Garak's hand on his arm.
"Come along, doctor. We can check on Commander Worf's condition together."
Bashir nodded and stood. The statement did not seem odd to him at the time.
The human and the Cardassian walked back to the bunk area. Bashir immediately went over to Worf's prone form but discovered that he seemed no worse than before. Garak tugged on his uniform.
"Doctor, could you step over here for a moment?" The tailor spoke softly.
Garak was maneuvering him as if the doctor was in the way and he would like to have more room in the cramped space. The Starfleet Officer obediently let the tailor nudge him. Suddenly, he was being pushed backward and his legs bumped into something. He clung to the tailor's arm to avoid losing his footing.
"Garak, what…?"
"Relax."
The doctor was trying his best not to fall. Very abruptly, his legs gave out from beneath him. He landed on something soft and he realized that he had fallen on the other bunk. The Cardassian was pushing him backwards and his legs were lifted onto the mattress.
"But-"
Garak was tugging the blankets up over him. The doctor found himself being tucked into bed without so much as a 'by your leave.'
"Garak!" His eyelids kept drooping too much to give his friend a glare.
The tailor just smiled. As he watched, the worry lines on Bashir's face smoothed out and his breathing deepened, but the human was still trying to remain awake. It was easy to see that he had been struggling to hold onto consciousness for hours…days even. He had been slurring his words at the ship controls and his body had been sagging. Seeing Bashir twitching his fingers in an unsettled manner, the tailor tried a new tactic.
"Go to sleep, Julian."
Exhaling heavily, Bashir let his eyes close.
The doctor slept deeply during the trip back to the station. Something in his genetically enhanced brain had triggered the recovery process after the past two months of imprisonment. Keeping a vigil over Tain and caring for the other prisoners had depleted his reserves of energy. He awoke towards the end of their trip.
They eventually arrived and disembarked from their spacecraft. The airlock opened and shut behind them as they made their way towards the relieved welcome committee. Garak and Bashir greeted everyone. Deep Space Nine had never looked more like home.
The third time Garak used his name was when the doctor had just returned from a medical conference. The human had joined him at their customary table without a word, just a chipper grin of greeting.
"Ah, doctor. It's good to have you back and looking refreshed, I see. Was the medical conference of interest?"
Julian smiled and nodded at him. He set down his tray gingerly, trying to prevent spilling his tea and soup. It was an unusual amount of liquids that he had ordered for lunch. He normally favored something spicy or doughy. Another peculiar thing was that he was making sure to keep his PADD tucked under his arm. He did not take it to their lunches, preferring to save time for their debate rather than to complete paperwork.
"Please, do share the details of your experience. Were there any Cardassians there on Cleptara?"
The human shook his head.
"What about the topics you covered? Is everything all right?" Garak's brow ridges drew together as he surveyed his companion. Julian seemed cheerful enough, but he had yet to speak. "I'm not having lunch with a silent Founder, am I?"
Bashir quickly typed something into his PADD. He showed Garak an official medical clearance certificate with his DNA test, but he need not have bothered. Elim knew his body language by heart. He had been teasing him in hopes of getting a verbal answer.
The doctor sipped at his tea, shutting his eyes contentedly. The Cardassian tilted his head like a curious animal. He was frankly a bit shocked with what Bashir's silence entailed. When Cardassia needed to silence someone without disposing of them, their tongue or throat was damaged. Sometimes they were tortured or conditioned into silence. Could this all be an elaborate show that the genetically enhanced human was putting on? Had someone hurt him so badly that he could not speak?
"Julian?" Garak gazed at him, body language practically radiating concern.
The doctor's eyes opened and widened considerably before he turned to his PADD again and started typing something in.
I have a bad case of laryngitis. I'm sorry to worry you. I thought you knew.
"Laryngitis? I'm not familiar with the term."
It's a condition caused by inflammation of the larynx. I've already had it seen to, but I need to relax my voice for a few hours so that it can heal completely.
After typing the answer in, the doctor started on his soup and bread. Garak ate his own meal in silence. He waited until the doctor slowed down before he asked questions.
"You are ill and it damaged your voice, but you will regain your ability to speak soon?"
The doctor grinned and nodded.
"You seem to rely on movements of your head for nonverbal communication. You know, that sign has a completely different meaning to a Cardassian."
But I've seen you nod the human way before.
"So you have. It has a different interpretation depending on how it's done. A single nod downward indicates respect and service. An emphatic nod is more boisterous and seldom used among the elite of Central Command."
Julian looked thoughtful before he typed his next statement in. What about that odd little side nod you do around me? Does that have a meaning?
"Doctor, nearly every Cardassian gesture has an intended meaning. Humans can be so…careless with their body language sometimes. For instance, you constantly switch from flirtatious to wanting to wish someone immediate harm, if your movements were to be accepted as Cardassian."
Then maybe it's a good thing that I'm perceived as a human, otherwise people would by batting their eyelashes at me one minute and then running away the next.
"That would be unfortunate. I have seen that human eye signal before. It's a trifle unnerving in our culture."
I never knew about this. It's fascinating.
"I have no doubt. It probably lends a different meaning to all of the novels I've leant you."
The doctor's jaw dropped with disbelief.
"You mean t-t…" His voice crackled horribly as he tried to speak.
The Cardassian pushed his PADD towards him, encouraging him not to damage his voice.
You mean that all this time there was a different sub-plot going on in every novel, depending on the body language?
"Precisely. Would you like me to lend you more?"
The doctor frowned, thinking.
Yes, but can you give me a manual on Cardassian body language so that I can correctly interpret it?
Garak smiled. "I know of no manual. It's largely a cultural language that Cardassians learn at a young age."
The doctor sighed with defeat.
"You have been observing me, which should give you an insight…would you care for my dessert? It's one of your favorites: cherry crumble with Aglar berries."
Julian lit up with interest and Garak passed over his plate. The doctor dug into the crumble with gusto.
"I hope that they remembered to feed you during this conference. I can't say that I'm overly fond of the fact that attending managed to damage your throat."
The doctor shrugged and typed one-handed.
It's fine. I'll be talking again soon. In fact, everyone has been saying that it's a nice change that they don't have to hear me prattle on.
"I can't speak for such people, but you may rest assured that I don't enjoy your silence. I'll be glad to have our conversations back."
The statement made the doctor smile charmingly. He looked genuinely happy with the tailor's admission. Their lunch ended with cheerful nods and fervent hope that Garak would not have to remain the sole source of verbal communication. The doctor soon gained his voice back and it was just as strong as before. Their meetings continued as if the period of silence had never occurred, except for one significant difference.
After that quiet conversation, Julian went to check his old reading PADD for any Cardassan literature. He had the habit of erasing a book after he read it for the purpose of leaving more room to store new data. As luck would have it, he had neglected to clear out a Cardassian short story. It was a small myth that Julian had found on the station server. In the story, a Cardassian child had befriended a feral riding hound. It protected her with its life. Even when it was vicious, it never snapped at the youth and it remained companionably by her side. The child often gave a tilting nod to the hound, which was treated more as a treasured friend than an animal in the fable. It could be seen as a sign of friendship or familiarity, but it was clearer in the interpretation that it was a show of trust.
Every time that Garak tilted him a nod in private now, the doctor beamed. He could not help thinking that his involuntary silence had been worth the new knowledge that Garak trusted him more than anyone on Terok Nor.
The End