Summary: Bashir asks for Garak's professional assistance and receives sage advice as well.

"Ah, doctor, how good of you to visit." Garak beamed at him.

The tailor was up to his elbows in silk samples, no doubt choosing what to stock up on in inventory. His tunic was a light green today, accented with embroidery in the shape of diamonds. It was reminiscent of a knight's crest and Julian would have made a comment about it if he had less on his mind. His preoccupation was not lost on the tailor.

"I need some fabric scraps. Could I look through some of your old sample books?"

The Cardassian blinked slowly at him, expression thoughtful.

"Scraps? Do you perhaps need some repair material? Of course I have plenty, but I would be happy to repair whatever it is that needs mending." Garak opened a cabinet where he kept his sample books from which he made doll clothing or outfit adornments. Bashir did not often ask for his professional help with something.

"What color are you interested in?"

"Brown."

"Could you be more specific?"

"Medium…brown?"

"What of the fabric? Could you describe the texture?"

"I don't know...fuzzy...?"

Garak rose up.

"Doctor, I think I may be trusted to mend whatever it is. Bring it by this afternoon or tomorrow morning and I'll examine it and give you an estimation."

Julian's cheeks held pinkish hue for a moment and he gazed down at his feet as if his shoes had become a fascinating study. The Cardassian observed the peculiar response with thinly veiled interest. He wondered what the young man could possibly own that would prove to be an embarrassment. The color choice defeated him. Perhaps it was a hideous brown tunic of some kind or a sentimental object.

"My dear doctor, I am known for my discretion."

Julian swallowed.

"It's a toy."

The Cardassian appeared puzzled, so Julian elaborated. "All right, but don't laugh. It's a teddy bear."

"A teddy bear?" The tailor frowned as if he had never heard of such a thing.

"It's a sort of stuffed fabric toy that human children are known to play with. It holds nostalgic value. Mine was burnt in the renegade Jem'Hadar bombardment on the station along with half of my things."

The tailor looked a mixture of alarmed and sympathetic. "I never knew that the habitat ring was damaged. I'm sorry about your quarters. Is there anything else I can mend for you?"

It came as little surprise that Garak had not heard of Julian's rooms being demolished. The Constable had discreetly sealed them off. His quarters were put on the repair list. The wall had been blasted from stray torpedo fire and the vacuum of space had taken his property before the station self-sealing shield activated. Julian had been in Ops and had returned to find the damage.

He had lost nearly everything from home, but it would not do to tell Garak that. He had new quarters now and they were better than the previous ones. He was bereft of everything except for his bear and a few books. Just thinking about the irreplaceable photos and gifts from friends made him grimace.

"Actually, I'll need some off duty tunics and pants."

The alien peered at him closely. "Just how much is missing?"

It would appear that he had been caught.

"It's nothing, Garak. I can bring it by this afternoon you said?"

Elim nodded. He chose a different avenue of discussion so as to not make his young friend uncomfortable.

"Yes. I'll need to take your measurements again for the tunics. I wish you would allow me to show you some of my silks. I know that you don't favor smooth fabric, but you are still missing an entire range of colors that would look charming in your wardrobe."

Julian grinned. "I don't see you wearing silk."

"Ah, but that is due to tradition…and of course my back scales would ruin the fabric."

The doctor gave a thoughtful hum. He knew from his files on Cardassian physiology that Cardassian back scales were notoriously sharp and jagged. Sometimes Julian forgot just how alien Garak was. The tailor's polite demeanor and adherence to human customs made him blend in with Starfleet personnel.

Apparently, the tailor was aware of how much it was an honor to handle a human's most treasured items. Humans of this modern age were less materialistic, but there were some things that were an exception.

"I'll drop off the bear after my shift. I'll see you later."

Garak smiled. "Until later then."

Julian pressed a battered soft toy bear into his hands that afternoon. He smuggled it in his Starfleet medical kit and Garak had bestowed some affectionate teasing on him for having done so. He could not fathom why the doctor was so bashful about the worn little thing, especially when it was one of the few items he owned. The tailor would get around to remedying that soon, but for now he had fabric to repair.

Bashir had first insisted on sewing it himself once Garak supplied the material, but then the Cadassian told him that he would consider it a personal honor to be permitted to mend it. Julian thought over the offer. It was true that only his own stitching held the bear together and sewing it had nearly become a sacred act, but Garak had been giving him that unusually sincere look.

He had a surgery scheduled that afternoon and he was distracted with all of the alien physiological data swimming around in his head. In the end, he had permitted the Cardassian to repair Kukalaka, but only after he had sworn him into friendly secrecy.

Time passed by in a many-colored and busy haze. There was an unexpected outbreak of food poisoning and Quark's replicators were implicated. Helping nauseous and shivering patients with their symptoms had become routine over the past few days. Some of them were too weak to walk and Bashir made several house calls. After so many bleak days, coming home to the blank set of unfamiliar rooms was of little comfort. He liked his space in his downtime, but this was too much space. It felt hollow and unwelcoming without any tokens of affection.

Jadzia had visited him several days after the doctor had seen the tailor. She had placed a large crate on his desk, telling him that it was a joint gift from his friends. The Trill looked smug as Bashir opened it to reveal a large collection of holo-photos. Most of them were in frames and depicted wardroom parties. There were several of Bashir spending time with the O'Briens.

After some digging, he uncovered photos from his past. He had smiled wistfully as he watched teenager Julian blow out candles on his birthday cake as his parents lingered with fond looks in the background. There was a picture of Richard Bashir carrying Jules on his shoulders as they visited Chelsea Physic gardens and one of Amsha Bashir scribbling with him on the computer. Jules could only scribble before his genetic enhancements.

Jadzia must have put in a lot of detective work to find these photographs. With a gaze that held both joy and a longing for bygone days, he thanked her. It was then that she revealed organizing it was not her doing, though she refused to divulge the names of the people involved. Bashir knew that at least Miles had contributed because of the pictures of Molly and Julian reading together.

Julian embraced Jadzia and told her to thank all of the participants in the project. He hastened to set up the framed shots and set the photo book in his barren desk while Jadzia kept up a steady flow of conversation with him. After the friendly talk and gift giving, she left.

Julian placed a photo of the Ops DS9 crew on the nearly empty bookshelf by his bed. He kept thinking about how happy they looked in that holo-photo and how lucky he was to have friends like these.

Garak had been swamped with tailoring work and Julian had not seen any sign of Kukalaka for a couple of weeks, though it was not as though he would ask about it. It was possible that it had been irreparable. Half of the bear's body had been singed and it carried a lingering burning smell that would be difficult to remove.

Julian and Jadzia had dealt with the fallout of the Quickening. Julian stayed awake for days looking for a better, more immediate cure. He was overworked. Shadows haunted his eyes, but he kept up his clinical efficiency and he completed his tasks on time.

Garak met with the doctor for lunch on their scheduled afternoon. The tailor brought a clothing bag with him, no doubt about to make a sales pitch for his silk as he had promised. To prolong the time spent in peace, Bashir told him about his research to find the cure for the Quickening.

Julian returned from his recent trips more downhearted than ever. He was having difficulty adjusting to the quarters despite spending several weeks in them and he had not gotten over the recent trip to that cursed planet…

Garak's eyes scanned him. "This isn't about a cure, is it doctor? At least, not essentially."

Julian started breathing unevenly and then his body gave a small shudder. He gulped.

"No, it isn't."

"It was the Quickening that has you distraught but it's the start of the war that drove the message deeper that sometimes you cannot fight circumstances." The Cardassian was calm.

The doctor sat there, discreetly clenching his hands into fists.

"No, it taught me that I can do more harm than good, that sometimes I should stop trying to help if I want to save someone from my own stupidity."

"Doctor, you are many things, but never stupid. As for conformation of your own abilities, you not only saved a new generation from the Quickening, but you have also made this conversation possible. I would not be here without your determination to help, and I would have met a painful end if my implant was still functioning."

"But I-" Julian suddenly could not find the words to express his frustration.

"I understand that it will take time for you to accept that you are changing the universe for the better, but today I wish to show you how I have improved it."

Julian came out of his stupor to watch as Garak opened the clothing bag he had brought with him. He pulled out a familiar friend.

"Kukalaka!"

The tailor jumped a little, surprised by Julian's exclamation. The doctor took it with reverent slowness, inspecting Garak's perfect seams and the way he had left Julian's stitching untouched. The doctor smiled for the first time in days.

"Garak, I can't thank you enough. This is…immeasurably important to me."

"I'm glad that you are so pleased with the result. It was tricky cleaning the fabric, but I think I managed to get the scent out."

Julian hid the bear under the table.

"Thank you. Your talents are a delight to behold and I'll happily pay you in latinum…as soon as I can borrow some."

Garak looked alarmed. "Don't borrow, doctor. In fact, I was going to suggest that you do me a favor in turn."

Julian seemed taken aback by the proposal, but he listened intently. The tailor had done superb work, so hopefully the doctor could repay him adequately with whatever task he had in mind.

"Of course. What can I do?"

"I would consider it a favor if you went back to your quarters and slept."

Julian's brow furrowed, confusion obvious.

"Garak-"

The tailor held up his hand with a placating smile on his face.

"My dear doctor, you've been slurring your speech for the past 8 minutes. You know how much I enjoy our conversations and I would like to continue having them with someone who is well rested enough to debate."

Julian sighed. "That's not really a form of payment."

Garak tilted his head, mouth compressing into a firm line for a moment.

"Oh, I do believe it is. I'm asking you to do something completely against your nature, given how you enjoy pushing your strengths. I believe that there was a Terran author who compared human minds to warp cores and if you continue to overload your mental faculties, the result might be most unpleasant."

The Cardassian's steady blue gaze bespoke of honest concern and kindness. It was true that Bashir had been pushing himself too hard and he was feeling it despite his genetic enhancements. Perhaps it was not so bad to have someone look after his own welfare for a change. Gathering up Kukalaka along with the remnants of his pride, he wished Garak a pleasant afternoon. The tailor smiled and watched the doctor follow his advice.

The Cardassian shook himself for a moment, wondering when he had become such a busybody. Still, that young man had yet to learn his limits in both loss and physical strain. His moral sensitivity remained untarnished and Garak was glad to have found an unblemished being. Julian had an open mind that absorbed his surroundings like a sponge. It was Garak's privilege to make certain he remained untainted and that he could hold onto that spark of curiosity and life.

He hoped that once the war was over they could repair everything as easily as one repaired a stuffed toy for a friend. But alas, he could not change the universe with a few lengths of thread and a needle in his hand. If only.

The End

A/N: This series might be ending soon.