Title: Rule of Acquisition #57 - Good customers are as rare as latinum – treasure them.

Series: Rules of Acquisition

Characters: Quark, Dax, Ensemble

Word Count: 4,451

Rating: K+

Warnings: mentions of homicide/suicide, infrequent and mild swearing

Summary: After the FCA ban, Dax convinces the station crew to help get Quark back on his feet, and Quark realizes that his best customers are indeed his friends.

A/N: I've had this idea in my head ever since I first watched Body Parts. I needed an explanation for why Dax wasn't there to help Quark out during the whole incident; yes, he likes to keep his Ferengi issues private, but Jadzia understands his culture and seems like the one person he'd be able to talk to. Also, someone needed to organize the relief effort, and at this point in the series, while the other characters seemed to have a soft spot for Quark, few of them would have wanted to admit it with such an obvious display of friendship. Dax seemed like the only one who would have been willing convince, cajole, and even pry in order to get it done.

As far as the story goes, I'm sorry it's so long. Some fluff, some seriousness; lots of dialogue. Hope you enjoy.

As always, I don't own Star Trek or any of its characters; I just play in their universe.

"He did what?" Dax gasped, nearly spraying raktajino across the small table.

"You heard me," Bashir replied, an amused smirk on his face as he watched the lovely science officer wipe her mouth. "Garak swore it was the truth. Really, even he wouldn't make up something like that."

The two were sitting in a corner of the Replimat, sipping Klingon coffee and going over the latest station gossip. Jadzia had just returned from a one-week scientific expedition, and Julian knew she'd want to catch up on the news before delving into the mountains of data and analyses that were waiting on her desk in Ops.

"Quark hired Garak to assassinate him." Dax shook her head. "That's absurd."

"Mm-hmm."

"Why?"

The doctor sighed loudly in a way that indicated it was a long, twisted story. "Something about a Ferengi contract. Apparently, he'd gone to a doctor on Ferenginar who told him he had some sort of rare, incurable disease. Dorek Syndrome, I think he called it."

"Oh my. But Dorek Syndrome affects only one out of every five million Ferengi." Dax said with a frown.

Bashir gave her an odd look before continuing. "Well, at any rate, Quark thought he only had a few days to live, and apparently panicked at the thought of dying with so many debts gone unpaid. So he thought he'd pay them off by selling his desiccated remains on the futures exchange.

"A couple days ago, I got a call from some Doctor Orpax on Ferenginar. All he said to me was, 'Please transmit this message to Mr. Quark of Deep Space Nine: You do not have Dorek Syndrome.' Then he terminated the connection. So I told Quark, and he seemed overjoyed. Unfortunately (and now this is what Garak told me), there was the small matter about the desiccated remains, which had already been sold. To Brunt."

Dax's eyes widened. "You mean that FCA liquidator who had Quark beaten up a few months ago?"

"The same."

"And he came to collect. And Quark would be mortified at the idea of breaking a Ferengi contract." The realization seemed to knock Dax solidly in the face. "Poor Quark. Garak's not going through with it, of course."

"Jadzia, you know Garak. I have no idea what he plans to do. He's quite capable of murder, but then I don't think he would have told me if he was afraid of getting caught. And anyway, Odo would be on him in a second."

"Is there something I should know about, Doctor?" A voice came from behind them, and Bashir jumped. The shape shifter in question stepped up to the table. "You both just missed out on the action."

Dax raised an eyebrow. "What action?"

"In Quark's. It was just shut down by the FCA." The constable sounded rather pleased.

Jadzia winced, unsure whether to be relieved or alarmed – after all, a Ferengi without profit is no Ferengi at all. Quark couldn't be taking it well.

Odo described the scene with an air of satisfaction, but Dax wasn't listening. Julian could tell by the blank, absent look in her eyes that her mind was someplace else entirely, most likely puzzling over another one of her schemes. Presently, she stood, walked stiffly to the replicator, replaced her mug for recycling, and said, "Julian, could you meet me in the infirmary in ten minutes?"

He looked quizzically at her for a moment, but she didn't give him time to respond. With a distracted look on her face, she turned and walked away, her head still in the proverbial clouds.

"I wonder what's gotten into her…" Odo mused.

"I suppose I'll find out soon enough," Julian responded, draining his mug and shaking his head in bewilderment.

"Alright, Jadzia, you're plotting again." Julian said, standing in front of his desk with his arms folded across his chest. "Spit it out."

"Quark needs our help," she said, turning swiftly around to face him, her hands held behind her back. "He's lost the bar. He has no place to go. We have to find a way that he can stay on the station and keep his bar."

Julian frowned. "We do? Why?"

Dax knew there was no great affection between Bashir and Quark, but she had expected the doctor to be a bit more sympathetic. She sighed dramatically. "Really, Julian, with all the time you spend in Quark's, I would have thought you'd be a little more concerned by the possibility that the place would suddenly be gone." She snapped her fingers close to his face to emphasize her point.

"Let someone else take it over," he said indifferently, beginning to organize some of his medical supplies.

"And could you tell me what Federation or Bajoran citizen in their right mind would come all the way out here to a Cardassian station to operate a narrow-profit-margin bar on the frontlines of an inter-quadrant war?"

Bashir paused. "I guess that's a good point."

"Right." She looked thoughtful for a moment, then said casually, "If Quark's closes, you and the chief are going to have to find somewhere else to set up your dartboard."

The shattered look on the doctor's face gave her all the information she needed to know – she had her first accomplice.

"What do you want me to do?"

She grinned to herself and asked, "You got any spirits you're not going to drink?"

Lieutenant Commander Dax found Jake and Nog in their usual spot on the balcony, watching the passengers of a Bajoran freighter disembark.

Just like old times, she thought. It was good to see Nog again. He was home for six days on break from the Academy. She wondered if anyone else noticed the difference one semester had made in him – not only did he stand straighter, but his whole presence seemed somehow elevated, prouder, older. It was a maturity that she hadn't expected to see in the eyes of the young Ferengi.

"I see you boys didn't waste any time," she called out, approaching them. "Seen any beautiful young women yet?"

Jake blushed, but Nog only grinned. Perhaps there were some things that really hadn't changed at all.

"There were a couple," the little Ferengi told her, then seemed to suddenly remember his Starfleet training. "What can we do for you, sir?"

"I need some help with some acquisitions…" She launched into her story; the boys listened to her attentively.

"We'll spread the word," Jake said when she'd finished. "And I'm sure I can pinch some Saurian brandy from my dad's cupboard."

"Better ask him first, Jake," she told him. "You know how Benjamin is about his kitchen…"

"And I can give my uncle some of that Trixian Bubble Juice I have in my quarters. I stole it from him anyway."

Dax didn't even bother to comment. "Thanks, you two," she said. "I really appreciate it."

"You're welcome, Lieutenant Commander!" Nog called over his shoulder as Jake grabbed his arm.

"You mean even after a semester at the Academy, you've still been stealing Trixian Bubble Juice from Quark's storeroom?" she heard the young Sisko ask in disbelief.

"It's not 'still' because I didn't used to do it," Nog replied. "My dad used to get it for me, but then he got caught. Hey, don't give me that look. Remember, the 111th Rule of Acquisition says…"

Dax shook her head and moved on to recruit her next coconspirators.

A few minutes later, she was standing in the O'Brien's kitchen.

"Sorry, I don't have any spare dishes, Lieutenant Commander," Keiko told her regretfully. She was seated on the couch, looking a little pale but smiling brightly. Molly was curled up beside her, an old-fashioned book open across her lap. "No utensils, either. We break a lot of stuff… I'm sure you can understand."

"I understand," Dax reassured her, then called over her shoulder into the small pantry, "Chief, have you found anything?"

O'Brien emerged with a case of some Terran beverage she thought looked vaguely familiar.

"Scotch whiskey," he grunted, swinging it up onto the counter. His face lit up as he seemed to remember something else. "One more thing."

Dax waited patiently as he went back to digging through the jumbled cupboards. A minute later, he got to his feet, carefully cradling a tall bottle of red wine in his arms.

"Merlot. A gift from Captain Picard," the chief explained. "Sweet gesture, but I really never cared for the stuff. Give it to Quark with my regards."

Kira's quarters were unlocked, and as soon as she heard her friend's voice call out, "Come in!" the door swished open.

"Nerys! What's going on? You look like you're… going somewhere." Dax was eyeing the duffle bag on the floor and the clothes laid out on the major's futon with confusion.

"Nothing drastic," Kira replied, but as she turned around, Jadzia couldn't hold back a shocked gasp.

Kira looked down at her rounded abdomen and met Dax's stare with a raised eyebrow. "You're not going to tell me that Julian didn't explain the whole situation to you."

"Oh, he did," the young Trill said with a chuckle. "Believe me, I had two cups of raktajino in the time it took him to tell the entire story. It's just… seeing you… I mean, I don't know what to say."

"Don't worry, I didn't know what to say at first, either," Kira laughed. "It's incredible. Dax, I've got a baby growing inside of me! You can't imagine –"

"Oh, I know what it's like."

"Of course you do. It's just, I never expected it. I feel selfish saying this, but in a way, I'm glad for the accident. I wouldn't turn down this experience for anything in the galaxy."

"So," Dax once again glanced meaningfully at the duffel bag, "are you going someplace?"

"I'm moving in with the O'Briens," Kira said, and Dax couldn't help bursting out laughing.

"You serious?"

"Aunt Nerys." Kira shrugged. "Their idea. They're such funny people. Took them the longest time to actually ask me. I felt obliged to accept. They really want to have their baby close to them. I can't blame them."

It wasn't long before Jadzia was handing the major a large glass of Kava juice as the two of them sat down on the sofa, and it was another hour after that that Kira had exhausted all the topics she had to discuss and finally asked Dax about the reason for her visit.

"You just drop by to chat, or are you here on business?"

"Business," Jadzia replied. She explained Quark's situation. As she spoke, the look on Kira's face went from amused to smug to incredulous.

"I still don't understand you and your affinity for Ferengi culture. I have no qualms about resigning the little troll to his fate and letting him go. But then, this isn't just about him; I know that look in your eyes. This is also for you. If Quark left, who would play tongo with you until 0200 hours once a week?"

"Exactly. More than that, he's my friend, and I care about him. Anything you can give would be wonderful."

"Okay, but I want to make it clear that I'm doing this for you, my friend, and not for him."

Dax nodded patiently.

Kira looked thoughtful for a moment, then turned to her with a sly smile. "I think I've got a couple sets of old plates that I was going to get rid of, since I won't be needing them for the next few months anyway. Maybe some silverware, too."

Another check mark on the PADD.

Next stop, Benjamin Sisko. That was an easy one. It was he who'd convinced Quark to stay on the station in the first place, and she didn't think he regretted that decision. Besides, he still owed her a few favors.

"Hello, Old Man," Sisko said with a wide grin as the door to his quarters swished open. The look on his face – as well as his apron and bright-red, old-fashioned toque – told Dax he'd been cooking. "You're just in time for dinner."

She took a few steps into the room. "Let me guess. Your famous jambalaya?"

"You got it."

"Smells wonderful."

"Please," he said. "Take a seat. There's enough for three of us."

Dax was tempted for a moment, but eventually she shook her head. "Sorry, Benjamin," she told him, "but I'm here on an errand. I have a request for you."

It took her fifteen minutes to explain the entire situation to him – he wanted all the details, after all – but finally she was able to express her idea to him.

"I've found a bunch of people willing to give up drinks, glasses, plates, utensils, and napkins. What I don't have is furniture. I happen to know we're not going to be able to requisition new furniture from Starfleet for another five weeks, so I thought we could do some… rearranging."

"Rearranging?" the captain repeated.

Dax nodded. "Any section that could use some renovation?"

Sisko thought for a few minutes, pacing the room quietly. Finally, he turned to her with a sparkle in his eye.

"I've got it! Level 2, section J of the Habitat Ring. Good place to be doing some 'structural repairs.' Only a couple families living there, out of the way enough not to obstruct traffic. You can take the furniture from the lounge and empty quarters in that area."

"Perfect." Dax almost turned to leave, but Sisko stopped her with a wave of a hand.

"Calm down and wait a second," he said. "I'm going to need to put the plan in writing. Odo's not going to like it, but you'll need him to sign off on it. Station policy."

"Right." Dax looked unconvinced, but a few minutes later, she was holding a PADD containing Benjamin's orders. She grinned. Now all she had to do was convince Odo to apply his thumbprint.

"I'm not signing it," Odo said as she held out the PADD to him, his hands clasped firmly behind his back. He stood straight, facing Dax as she positioned herself across from him before his desk.

"Oh, come on, Odo," Dax implored. "You know the benefit Quark's provides to this community. A place to eat, drink, play games, and relax after a hard day at work. Do it for the populace of Deep Space Nine."

Odo harrumphed. "As far as I'm concerned, the populace of Deep Space Nine can eat at the Replimat. Quark's bar is the most disorderly site on this station, a virtual cesspool of shady deals and criminal activity. I've wanted to see the place closed for years."

Dax had expected this. The constable would make excuses and fight her all the way, but in the end he'd sign the directive. It was just a matter of breaking down the wall of stubbornness that kept him from admitting he was rather fond of his old adversary. Besides, he disliked change as much as any Solid did.

"Well, what about justice then?" Dax pressed. "What happened to Quark was hardly fair. There must be some law that says it's illegal to try to force someone to commit suicide."

"It's not that simple," the shape-shifter grunted. "If Quark insists on behaving like a Ferengi, he will be subject to Ferengi customs. Besides, if I followed Bajoran law, I could have the little toad arrested for hiring an assassin."

"But Odo, think about Quark. He's lost everything. He needs your help."

"Jadzia, I wouldn't sign it for the so-called good of the community. I'm not going to sign it for… personal reasons, either." Odo turned to face the back wall of the security office, and she knew he was close to caving.

"Well, what are you going to do with your time if you don't have Quark to boss around?"

"Dax…" Odo's voice was hard.

The young Trill pressed her fists against the tabletop and leaned across the desk so that her nose was inches from Odo's shoulders. "And who will you confide in when it comes to your… feelings… for Major Kira?"

It was a cruel card to pull, and Dax knew it. But it was the last one she had. She saw his body stiffen. "How do you know about that?"

"Oh, I have my sources," she replied cheerfully. "So what do you say? Will you do it?"

When he turned to her, his face was carefully blank. "Will it get you out of my office?"

"Yes."

"Alright. I'll do it." He eyed her, and though his face was set in a grumpy look, his eyes held a small smile. He abruptly took the PADD from her hand, pressed his thumb against the screen, and gave it back.

"Thanks Odo. I knew I could count on you." She gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze and turned on her heal. He watched her as she practically skipped out the door and across the Promenade.

Bashir met her at the door to Quark's.

"You look exhausted," he observed.

She gave him her most vibrant smile and shrugged. "I've probably walked at least ten kilometers today. Visited just about everyone I know on the station, and then some."

"Still can't believe you did it for Quark, of all people."

Someone out of the corner of her eye caught Jadzia's attention, and she glanced across the Promenade to see Morn approaching, carrying a shiny barstool.

"There's someone I didn't talk to," she commented. "But word got around, apparently."

"How'd he even get that?" Julian asked, gesturing towards the stool.

Dax shrugged again. "You ready?"

Julian nodded and promptly stepped through the door. She could hear his deep voice reverberating in the empty bar and Quark's quieter replies. She entered behind him.

"Quark. My sister sent me these," she said. "I thought you might want them, but they're really ugly."

She watched carefully as the two brothers examined the gaudy glassware, and exchanged a smug look with Rom as he said, "They're not as ugly as the old ones, but they're pretty bad."

Within seconds, Sisko and Odo had come in with the furniture and the bar was once again bustling with people. Julian shot her an amused smirk and the two of them took their contributions behind the bar. She listened with amusement to Quark's feeble protests and laughed as Morn plopped himself down on his stool in front of the counter, as if he was just going to wait there until someone served him, however long that wait would be.

There was a sudden shout from the doorway, and both Dax and Bashir whirled around to see Chief O'Brien running in, carrying the dartboard.

"Julian!" he exclaimed. "Keiko just kicked me out. Said I was hovering and driving her crazy. You want to play a game of darts tonight?"

"You bet!" the doctor replied, beaming. "Just as soon as I finish here."

Dax stole a glance over at Quark, who was staring intently at her. The look of wonder in his wide gray eyes made the entire effort worthwhile.

"Jadzia, why don't you let me help you with that?" Quark stepped up next to Dax as she stood behind the bar, pulling four bottles of Aldebaran whiskey out of a case, her long-fingered hands stretching in order to grasp two in each.

"Quark!" She looked down at him with her usual brilliant smile. "How's the revamp going?"

It was rather late and the bar was relatively quiet. Dax had stayed at the counter all night, accepting drink contributions, and she was ready to go to bed. She could tell that Quark, too, was tired, and while he had been quite chipper earlier in the evening, the initial delight had worn off and the feeling of impending doom remained.

"As well as can be expected, I suppose. But those chairs Sisko brought in? I tested them. I'm not going to get any business if I have to keep those here. They're terribly uncomfortable. Damn Cardassian interior designers." He sighed and grabbed another couple bottles, carefully placing them on the still-sparse shelf.

"Come on, no complaining. Must I remind you that without those chairs, you wouldn't have had any seating at all? Be grateful for what you can get."

"But that's just it," Quark replied, lowering his voice. "Jadzia, I shouldn't have broken the contract. It would have been better to die like a Ferengi than to live as an outcast like this. I've lost my standing with my peers, and I'm not allowed to do business with other Ferengi. I can't live on your charity." He sighed again and repeated, "I shouldn't have broken the contract."

He didn't notice until he looked up at her that she had stopped organizing his drinks supply and was leaning with one elbow on the bar, facing him, her ice-blue eyes boring into him.

"So you wish you'd just given up," she finally said, her voice blunt.

"That's not what I –"

"Yes it is." Her expression was indignant. "You think it would have been easier to give up, let Brunt swindle you out of your most important possession – your own life – than to try to deal with these new restrictions. That doesn't sound like the Quark I know." He knew she was thinking of his persistence in pursuing her, from generating holosuite recreations of her favorite childhood places to giving her a free drink when she came in alone.

"But I –"

"You've got a good brain. Use it. You'll find a way. You're a Ferengi, after all."

"But that's the entire problem!" Quark exclaimed. "By law, I am no longer a Ferengi! I can't do business with my own people! I have nowhere I can turn, no place to go home to!"

Dax's smile was slightly mocking. "I thought you hated going home."

"That's beside the point," he said crossly, turning away in frustration.

She finally took pity on him.

"Quark, listen to me." Her tone was quiet, serious. "You can't make a deal if you're dead."

"Rule of Acquisition Number 125," he added automatically.

"Don't give up on the negotiations. At some point, you'll be able to make a deal." She gently traced two fingers affectionately along the top of his lobe, then turned back to the drinks shelf.

"Jadzia?"

"Yes, Quark?"

"Are we still on for tongo tomorrow tonight?"

"Are you sure you want to go farther into debt right now?"

"The question is, are you? You still owe me from our last game."

"Okay. I'll be there."

Beep-bop.

Quark sighed in exasperation. It had been a long, stressful day in more ways than one and all he wanted to do was crawl into bed and go to sleep. But no. Someone else wanted to see him.

Beep-bop.

How was it that the doorbell actually sounded impatient?

Beep-bop.

"All right, I'm coming!" He hurried to the door and unlocked it, letting it slide all the way open.

"Good evening, Mr. Quark."

It was Garak. Quark's eyes widened in fright and he took a few quick steps backward. "I broke the contract," he said, a little breathlessly. "Y-you don't have to kill me anymore."

The dim hallway lights flashed off the Cardassian's toothy grin, making him seem even more menacing than usual. He followed the little barkeeper into the room. "Why, Quark, I thought we had made a deal."

"A contract is a contract is a contract, but only between Ferengi!" he recited under his breath, looking down at his slippered feet as if trying to steady himself.

Garak completely ignored him. "And a deal is a deal. Which is why I came to perform my end of our little agreement."

Quark was shaking now, his eyes squeezed shut and his whole body quivering as he waited for a knife in the stomach or hands around his neck. He should have known a Cardassian would act like this. He'd done business with them long enough to recognize that they were as brutal as Klingons and as devious as Romulans. Or Ferengi, for that matter.

But the violence and resulting agony never came. After a few moments, he cautiously opened his eyes to see Garak still standing in front of him, staring at him curiously. The scaly ridges inched their way up the gray forehead for a second before the Cardassian suddenly handed him a wrapped package he'd had tucked under his arm.

Quark immediately shoved it back. "It's a bomb. Or toxic gas. Or – or something. You can't trick me, Garak. I know how you operate."

The tailor smirked. "I assure you, it's perfectly safe."

"Well, you open it then."

"You don't trust me."

"You're trying to kill me!"

Garak finally allowed himself to laugh as the Ferengi looked up at him helplessly. "That's what I like about you, Quark. You don't trust people the way the Humans do. You live by common sense, not some ridiculous moral code based on mercy and charity. Don't worry. I'll open it for you."

Garak carefully tore the edge of the brown paper and untied the string holding the package together. In a few moments, he'd laid the contents on the table. It was a brand-new three-piece suit, with a red and gold pinstriped jacket and a gold brocade shirt.

"For you," Garak said simply.

Quark still looked unconvinced. "You mean, you're just giving it to me?"

"Oh, not at all," Garak replied. "You paid me for a service I never provided. It's the least I can do. After all, unlike Ferengi, Cardassians do try to keep their contracts, even when they are made with individuals of other species."

Quark gave a small sigh of relief and gently picked up the suit, examining it carefully and finding it to be a rather expensive one.

"Would you really have killed me?" he finally asked, seriously.

"Oh, I was quite certain you'd change your mind," Garak responded.

"And if I hadn't?"

"As I said before, a deal is a deal." The tailor grinned in what he knew was a disconcerting manner.

Quark was silent for a beat, then asked, "How did you know I'd break the contract?"

"Like I said, Quark, you live by common sense. Common sense dictates that it's better to stay alive than to die, no matter what other conditions go along with living."

Quark studied him for a long moment before saying, "Well, in that case, Garak, it's been a pleasure doing business with you."

"And with you, Mr. Quark." The tailor gave his closest approximation of a genuine smile.

"Oh, and Garak," the Ferengi called after him as he turned to leave. Quark seemed to struggle with something for a few seconds. Finally, he glanced up. "Thank you."

"You're quite welcome."