"So, how has your lizard friend been treating you?" Chief O'Brien asked.
"I would be careful calling him that. Word might get back to him."
"True, he could very well be a suspect." Miles mumbled.
Chief O'Brien had come over to visit him the next day. Bashir had not moved from his spot on the sofa, but his fever had gradually relinquished its hold on him. He was still tired and slightly irritable. Garak had gone to work on his projects in his shop for a short time. He had left a communicator with Bashir that he could use in case of emergency while he talked to his engineering friend.
"Have there been any leads yet?"
Chief O'Brien shook his head.
"No, but they did find a lot of the poison scattered about in your room and traces of it in the surgery. It's all gone now. I don't think I've ever seen the Commander personally oversee the decontamination of a room before."
"An attack on the station is a personal thing for him." The doctor mumbled.
"I think it has to do more with the fact that it's you. I mean, you're a healer, not a weapons man. Whoever did this was a right bastard." O'Brien said darkly.
Bashir said nothing, just blinked wearily.
"You look terrible. Do you need anything?" O'Brien looked lost. It was unusual for the energetic, chatty doctor to be so solemn.
"Dax?"
"You want to see her?"
Bashir nodded.
"She's on duty right now, but I'll get her as soon as her shift ends. Is there something you wanted her to do?"
The doctor closed his eyes and mumbled something that sounded like a negative. He had never looked more exhausted. His breathing slowed like he was minutes away from sleep…or a relapse.
"Julian?"
There was no response or indication that the doctor heard him.
"Julian!"
Bashir blinked his eyes open, a faint smile turning up the corners of his mouth.
"I'm fine. Just tired, Chief. I knew I could get you to call me by my first name."
O'Brien gave a sigh of irritation, which made Bashir smile all the wider.
"Tell Garak to take his time. I'm going to get some sleep." The doctor yawned and shifted around on the sofa to get comfortable.
The Chief stood.
"I'll get Dax down here when I can. She'll be glad to see you're resting."
Bashir nodded and closed his dark ringed eyes. O'Brien observed his friend quietly for a moment. Bashir was lying there so peacefully. His dark hair was sticking up on end and he was curled up in the blanket like a child. O'Brien turned on his heel and left the room, unaware that he was curling his right hand into a fist. He vowed to himself that whoever had done this would pay.
Garak eventually came back for his organization of his shop. He had repaired what had needed mending, and had taken the time to snoop into Odo's investigation by hacking into his computer base. There was only circumstantial evidence at this point and no prime suspects.
The tailor had entered his quarters to find O'Brien long gone and Bashir fast asleep. No alarms had been tripped and nothing was out of place. The security guards were still standing guard outside his quarters.
Garak set down his stitching equipment. He had very little use for sewing by hand, but occasionally he would have to use a gossamer-like fabric that did not react well to being fed into a machine. It would crimp and bunch up unless it was handled with care. A Bajoran widow that was fond of his work had taken a liking to brightly colored, filmy veils. He had taken a veil home with him to hem so that he could stitch and guard Bashir simultaneously.
Bashir had stirred a little when he entered the bedchamber. The doctor reached for the blanket that he must have kicked off. The tailor noticed with displeasure that Julian's hands were still wracked with fine tremors. Garak quickly and quietly assisted by shoving the corner of the blanket into his hand and then he went to go stand far away from what would be an inevitably grumpy waking humanoid. To his surprise, Bashir had eyed him with faint amusement. Garak surmised that O'Brien must have managed to lift his spirits.
"Garak, I'm fine. Don't you start fussing now. It doesn't fit with my perception of you as a cold, hardened spy." The doctor said quietly.
Garak chuckled softly.
"My dear doctor, surely you have seen past that transparent pretense."
"I thought that your amiable tailor persona was your pretense?
"Ah, there is a mystery there, I have no doubt. But for now I would advise you to rest. It seems to be one of the many things humans are in constant need of."
The tailor told the computer to lower the lights on his way out. He came right up to the door when he heard Bashir speak again. The doctor's voice was worn, like metal scraping harshly against a surface. He spoke haltingly.
"I'm…not a weakling."
Garak sighed. He had been expecting this topic to arise. Bashir was proud of his self-sufficient lifestyle, as a true Cardassian might be. Julian was a stubborn and an indomitable human being, but he was not a Cardassian. To hear him speak and act as such was interesting, but hardly appropriate. Garak slowly turned around and walked back to Bashir's side. The officer was looking at him with challenging, slightly hooded eyes. The shadows around his eye sockets were deep and his face was still gaunt and thin. He had never looked more fragile.
"Therein lies the problem. You are not indestructible, doctor, nor are you able to live apart from your fellow humans. You must balance your life to seek and accept assistance, as well as shun it on occasion. To do one or the other consistently is considered a flaw of human nature."
"Meaning that I am accepting too much assistance?" Bashir concluded bitterly.
Garak made a frustrated noise.
"Use the deductive skills that I have taught you. What has your presence here shown you? Does it seem like I think you are intruding into my time? Am I giving any indications that I think your illness is a trifle?"
"No."
"Well, there seems to be your answer."
The door chimed and Bashir's comm on the side table chirped simultaneously.
Both of them seemed to jump a little at the interruption, but Garak appeared thankful that the uncomfortable conversation had ceased.
"Lieutenant Dax here to see Bashir."
The doctor fumbled for the comm and answered.
"Let her in."
Dax came in, hesitating briefly on the threshold of the tailor's rooms. She could not say that she had ever been inside Garak's quarters before. The living space was attractively wide open with some of the same graceful Cardassian architecture that adorned the Commander's office.
"Julian?"
"In the room on the left, Jadzia."
She came in, holding a potted plant in her elegant hands. It was a miniaturized fern, with fronds that held a reddish hue. Bashir smiled as soon as he saw her. She glanced around, noting the spacious bedroom and her friend curled up on the couch. Garak was there, but not looking particularly happy with either of them. He raised an eye ridge when he saw her plant.
"Keiko sent me with a Bajoran fern. You aren't allergic, are you?" She looked questioningly at the Cardassian.
"Not at all. I'll let you have some time alone."
The tailor stepped out, leaving Jadzia to talk to the doctor. Jadzia did not speak at first, but became busy by settling the fern nearby and arranging the delicate fronds to stand up in a more attractive display. She seemed to be taking in the room's surroundings and Bashir's appearance without making her inspection obvious. Eventually, she started talking.
"No new leads yet, and the delayed traffic is pushing us to further the investigation quickly. The Chief mentioned that you asked specifically for me."
"Am I not supposed to ask for a visit from a good friend?" Bashir smirked.
"Of course not-I mean its fine that you asked for me. I suppose that I'm just surprised." Her piercing blue eyes surveyed him.
"And suspicious?"
"And suspicious." She confirmed.
"Well don't be. I just wanted to see you." He looked endearingly at her in a way that helped alleviate some of her anxiety.
"Besides, it isn't like I can investigate from my sickbed. Garak won't let me near a PADD without a valid excuse. He keeps on insisting that I need to rest." The doctor added.
"Good."
"You didn't have to say that quite that emphatically." Bashir grumbled.
"Yes I do. I've been watching you work yourself into the ground this past week. I'm entitled to agree with Garak."
Bashir sighed.
"Everyone seems to be ganging up on me."
"Then everyone must have a good reason for it." She smiled and arranged the blanket up higher over him. "I should go. You need more rest."
"Tell Keiko thank you for the fern. It was a nice thought."
Dax turned back to face him, eyes sparkling with affection.
"Of course."
She turned, exiting to go past Garak in the main chamber.
As soon as she left the room, Bashir's tremors worsened. He felt his heart skip a beat as his theories were confirmed. Just as he had been expecting, abdominal pain started shooting through him, and his nausea increased. He noted that his arms were once again discolored. He reached for his comm badge. His arm brushed against the potted fern, pushing it to the edge of the table. As soon as his hand closed over the cold metal, the pot fell and shattered.