A Plain, Simple Misunderstanding

Walking through the hustle and bustle of the Promenade, B'Elanna Torres was feeling distinctly unhappy and discouraged. "No one, Chakotay," she said to her closest friend. Is he the closest to me anymore? There's Tom, but that could still go either way.

The Commander – and he had been granted a field commission by Starfleet – looked grim beside her. "If the battle to retake this station was any sign, then it's little wonder the Maquis were wiped out," he said sadly."

"There have to be some survivors," B'Elanna protested. She had grudgingly accepted the field commission offered to her. It gave her a much-needed purpose and focus. "We can't be the only ones left."

"Even if we are," Chakotay said, "at least we have plenty of targets to choose from. And we don't even have to go around the Federation to do it."

"Ha! Starfleet, right. I would resign this damned commission right away if it wasn't the best shot of getting revenge. Those Cardassian bastards will pay, Chakotay!"

The Commander merely smiled indulgently. "I have no doubt of that," he said softly as they passed a clothing shop.

But B'Elanna was not in the mood for reassurances. She wanted blood, and she wanted it now. "How can we just sit here and do nothing?" she said, stopping in her paces and turning to look the much taller Chakotay in the eye. "All of us are stuck here for who knows how long, and we're just supposed to grin and bear it? Khest, I hate situations like this!"

"You must be more upset than I realized," the infuriatingly calm Commander said.

"What?"

"I haven't heard you swear in Klingon since, well, I don't think I've ever heard you swear in Klingon."

"Ugh. Don't remind- Wait a second! Chakotay, turn around. Slowly." She gestured with her head towards the clothing shop they had just passed.

The door had opened, and a Ferengi was walking out holding an offensively garish shirt while a Cardassian of all people was waving to him from inside the shop.

B'Elanna was already moving. What the damned Cardie was doing here, she didn't know. But he was the enemy, and she was going to exercise her duty as a soldier to make him pay with his life.

"B'Elanna, wait!" Chakotay called after her. "We should call security. Don't go in there alone."

How in the world did he ever inspire me to join him? she wondered. Was he always this dull, or was it just Janeway beating him into submission?

Regardless of Chakotay's lack of emotion, Lieutenant Torres strode into the shop, the doors parting helpfully to admit her, and thankfully there was only the one Cardassian there. He wasn't in uniform, but that meant nothing.

He turned around. "Ah, good afternoon! How may I be of-"

The Cardassian got no further as B'Elanna slapped him across the face with the back of her fist. The man stumbled backwards and held the part of his face that she had struck. "You're not much of a soldier, are you?" she taunted.

"I do believe there has been a misunderstanding, ma'am. You appear to have mistaken me for-"

"A Cardassian?" she spat back, lunging out with her foot.

Ready this time, the man sidestepped her attack. He looked to be past his prime, but he was surprisingly spry. "No, you would be correct in that assessment," he said in an infuriatingly patronizing voice. "But I wonder why you are so aggressive towards me. Have I offended you somehow?"

He sounds almost pleasant! "You murdered everyone I ever held dear, you Cardassian pig!" B'Elanna screamed, rushing the Cardassian and tackling him to the ground.

The man went to the floor and thankfully shut up as B'Elanna pummeled him with her fists. He didn't hit her back, but she didn't care. She was going to hit him until he died.

But then hands were pulling her up and off of the Cardassian and then held her in place. "Let go of me!" she shouted to the Bajoran deputies who were holding either of her arms. "Why aren't you letting me kill him?" she asked, astounded by their behavior. "He's a Cardassian!"

"That may be so, Lieutenant," a man in a Bajoran uniform said, stepping in front of her to help the Cardassian to his feet.. He wasn't himself a Bajoran, though. Or if he was, then his over-smooth face was likely the result of a Cardassian experiment. "But Mr. Garak is also a legal resident of this station, and is not an enemy of the Federation or of Bajor."

"Bullshit!" the human/Klingon woman exclaimed. "Then what the hell is he doing here?"

"I would be living out my years in exile," the now-bruised man said as he stood up. "And also doing my part to help liberate my home from Dominion occupation," he said conversationally. "I don't believe we've met. My name is Garak, and I would like to-"

"Just shut up!" B'Elanna shouted.

"Well, if you insist," Garak said too calmly before turning to the non-Bajoran who was wearing their uniform. "I won't be pressing charges, Constable, but I would appreciate that Starfleet do a better job of educating their personnel of what to expect when they board the station."

"I'm sure you can talk it over with Captain Sisko the next time you see him," the Constable said sarcastically.

"You're kidding me, right?" Torres said. "This Cardassian gets regular access to the station commander? What the hell is this?"

"That's not your place to ask, Lieutenant, the smooth-faced constable said in a bored voice. He gestured to the two deputies, and they gently let her go. "Try to stay out of trouble, Lieutenant. I don't appreciate troublemakers."

"And who are you supposed to be?" she shot back at him, crossing her arms. And what the hell happened to Chakotay? He better not have bailed on me.

"I'm the one who deals with troublemakers on this station," he said tersely, almost arrogantly. "Now, you can leave here peacefully, or you can be taken to a holding cell until you calm down."

Realizing that she wasn't going to get anything else out of these people, Torres stalked out of the shop.

"Have a pleasant day," Garak called after her.

B'Elanna shut her eyes in rage and bumped straight into someone. She opened her eyes. "Chakotay! Where the hell were you?"

"I was getting security, just in case you needed help," he assured her.

"Hmph. You shouldn't have bothered. They were on his side."

"I was not on anyone's side, Lieutenant, the Constable said, exiting the shop. "I was enforcing the law on this station. Mr. Garak is many things, and among those things, he is DS9's best tailor. According to most people, at least. That actually is his shop, in case you were wondering."

"So, you trust him then?" Chakotay asked.

"Hmph. I don't trust very many people at all, Commander. Most of the people on this station only have their own personal secrets and are of generally good standing. But trying to understand Garak is something that I don't think anyone ever has or ever will succeed at. I'm not sure Garak even understands himself at times," the Constable sad.

"You mean he's insane?" Torres asked, amused by the idea.

The Constable grunted. "If only. Garak is perhaps the shrewdest, most clever man I have ever met, and he never gives a straight answer. And he's dangerous, too. Personally, I'd feel more comfortable with him locked up, but he's proven to be useful, and he has no love at all for the Dominion. Don't pick trouble with him, or I may be unable to help you if he decides you're a threat." With a curt nod, the Constable whose name Torres did not know walked away.

Chakotay looked at the back of the mysterious law enforcer. "I think it's time we did some old-fashioned hacking to dig up some clues. What do you think, B'Elanna?"

Torres's anger gave way to satisfaction at the prospect of putting her talents to good use. "Sounds like a plan."

THE NEXT DAY

Garak had just finished up a transaction with a Bolian customer who had been delighted to find a tailor who was familiar enough with his species' culture to make a wedding robe that fit his standards. The man had seemed a bit off-put by Garak's appearance at first, but some friendly reassurances and talk of Bolian culture had swept all that under the rug in short order. The man was happy with the deal he was getting, and Garak was pleased to have made a new acquaintance.

He would have to close up shop early today. Captain Sisko wanted to talk to him about decrypting some codes that the Federation had intercepted. It was painful, to work against his own people, but sacrifice for the greater good was what Cardassia was all about.

The angry young woman from the day before was storming down the Promenade, and Garak offered a friendly wave. She saw him and picked up the pace. He wondered how determined she was. Her attempts to learn more about him and Constable Odo had been easy to detect and thwart. Garak had considered throwing up an elaborate cover that would have magically been unveiled when he allowed Lt. Torres to get past his security measures. But in these uncertain times, it seemed prudent to simply prevent her from accessing his and Odo's already highly classified personnel files.

Garak wondered if she had enlisted her friend, the Commander with the tattoo, to aid her. Picturing the looks on their faces when they discovered that a full Commander did not have sufficient clearance made him smile.

But further smiles would have to wait. The war kept going on all around them, and Garak's beloved Cardassia wasn't going to free itself on its own. Back to work.

I own nothing from Star Trek. I'm just having a bit of fun with these beloved characters and their home turf.

Reviews are very welcome and appreciated. Any form of constructive criticism would be great.

I hope you all enjoy what I have written so far. I'm not sure what's next, but I have some ideas. See you then! :)