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Chapter Text

Quark getting into trouble with Odo was nothing new. It was a regular occurance on days ending in ‘y’, as the old Earth saying went. What stood out this time was how Odo saw fit to drag him all the way from his bar, across the promenade, up to Ops, and into Sisko’s office to explain himself.

Sisko sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “I’m listening.”

Quark yanked his arm free of Odo’s grip with a sidelong look of reproach. He tugged his jacket down into place and then put his hands out in a preemptive attempt to placate Sisko. “It’s not as bad as it seems.”

Sisko hadn’t even heard what ‘it’ was yet. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

“You know how Odo likes to overreact.”

“Get on with it, Quark,” Odo grumbled.

Stuck between the proverbial rock and a hard place, Quark launched into the most self-serving explanation he could come up with, “Okay, a while back an guy who claimed to have heard of me from Felix came into the bar saying the cousin of a friend of his sister’s aunt was trying to get into the holo-programming industry and was looking for some place interested in helping him test out a new interface.”

“Felix as in…?” Sisko refreshed his memory.

“Doctor Bashir’s friend,” Odo clarified for him.

“Right.” Sisko turned his attention back to Quark. “Go on?”

“Well, what kind of businessman would I be if I didn’t support another entrepreneur?” Quark stated magnanimously. “I said of course he could test out his new interface here in one of my holosuites.”

“For a price, I imagine.”

“A generously low one, I’m practically giving him the space for free.”

That almost seemed out of character until Sisko realized, “Meanwhile you pocket all the profits from anyone who uses the holosuite with the experimental program.”

“A man’s gotta make money.”

Odo harrumphed. “And he’s been charging extra, too.”

“If people are willing to pay for the novelty of being members of an exclusive group that gets to experience this new technology before the whole rest of the quadrant even knows about it, who am I to deny them that pleasure?” Quark protested.

Sisko was beginning to see what the problem was. He sat forward to accuse, “You’ve been letting your customers use an untested and unauthorized new holographic technology on my station?”

“It’s not untested,” Quark stated definitively, “the testing is happening right now!” He grimaced when faced with no way to immediately get out of the other part of the accusation. “He says the paperwork to get the testing phase authorized got lost in subspace.”

“Right.” Of course. “Until that paperwork gets found and authorized by the proper channels I want the use of that holosuite suspended, is that clear?”

Quark opened his mouth to assure him he would do just that. Crisis, well, not averted so much as postponed, but he’d take what he could get.

Odo spoke before he could, “That’s not all, Captain.”

“There’s more?” Sisko frowned.

Damn it, Odo. Quark would wish poor returns on investments for his whole family if he had any. Investments, that is. Quark was a little hazy on the family part, what with how Changelings were and all. “Well…” he dragged the word out, “there might also have been a little, tiny really, miniscule malfunction with the new technology, barely anything to worry about, but Odo, well, like I said, Sisko, Captain, Captain Sisko, you know how he is.”

“Get to the point, Quark.” Sisko ran out of patience. “What kind of malfunction?”

O’Brien opened the hatch to peer inside at the tangle of wires, conduits, and haphazard technical mishmash that Rom had rigged over the years. He had a headache already just looking at it.

“The new interface is connected here?” he confirmed.

Rom crowded in to see. “Ummm… yes. And here. And that connects to here instead of here.” He beamed, pleased with himself as he explained, “It saved me from having to divert power from the other holosuites to support the added components.”

“I can see that.” Mad Scientist Rom, at it again. O’Brien reached in to poke one of the lit connectors.

“I…” Rom dragged the word out, “wouldn’t do that, Chief.”

“Why not?”

Rom shot a furtive glance in Quark’s direction. “Uhh, well…”

Quark huffed and, when his glances at both Odo and Sisko were met with equal levels of ‘not taking your bullshit’, admitted, “The guy was really clear, adamant really, that it couldn’t be shut down…” Ugh, they really weren’t going to like hearing this, “when it’s in use.”

O’Brien looked annoyed. “Why not?”

Rom started going, “Uhhh…” again. That wasn’t an answer.

“Well, when is their time up?” Similar non-answers abounded. Fine, whatever. “Okay, who's in there? Can we contact them?”

Oh no. Quark was hoping no one would ask that question. “Well that’s the thing,” he cringed, “the holosuite is glitching.”

“Glitching?”

“It’s locked itself, gone over time, and,” Quark sighed, “we can’t get through to them either.”

Sisko bristled with quiet fury. “And the people in there?”

“They’re… stuck. At least until their program runs its course.” Quark admitted. Might as well go all-in.

“What program is it?” O’Brien wanted to know.

Damn it, even the unexpected questions were going to make him look bad. Quark couldn’t win.

Rom tripped over his words as he eagerly took over explaining, “We don’t know. See, that’s how the new interface works, it uh, it works by–” He caught sight of Quark’s wide-eyed shut the fuck up Rom look and faltered. “Uh…”

“Works by what, Rom?” Sisko overrode Quark’s cancel order.

Rom put up a hand to block Quark from sight and finished explaining all in one breath, “It works by uploading any fictional work you input on an isolinear rod and then accessing the brain to make you believe you’re in the story. It's not running one of our preprogrammed files so mmmaybe it accidentally scanned a rod they had with them I think maybe uh…”

Ugh. Well, it was out now. Quark huffed. “If you don’t end the program properly, part of the user’s consciousness might end up stuck in the program or, or something. I don't know the exact details but he’s working on fixing that. You can’t expect tech like this to be perfect from the get-go, right?”

Sisko didn’t look convinced. He turned to O’Brien, “Chief, see what you can do to fix whatever is making the program glitch and get those people out of there.”

“I’ll see what I can do, Captain.” O’Brien turned back to the open hatch.

“As for you, Mr. Quark, you are going to get in touch with the creator of this program and make them answer for all this, as well as find out the status of the approval submission.” Sisko drew himself to his full authoritative height over the Ferengi. “In fact, I think they should be invited to the station to answer for this, don’t you?”

Quark made a face. “I’ll get right on it, but he’s really slow to reply so I can’t guarantee you’ll have an answer anytime soon.”

“Speaking of answers,” Odo cut in, “Quark still hasn’t answered the question of just who is trapped inside the holosuite yet.”

“Oh yeah…” Damn it, Odo. Quark would damn his whole bloodline Klingon-style if he had any in the conventional sense. Or blood at all, for that matter. “You still want to know that, huh?”

Morning sun was just warming the rocks under a clear sky when Garak came awake. He stretched, luxuriating in the slide of the soft bed covers against his scales. Oh, how he longed to wake up like this more often. The slatted blinds kept the light filtering into a pleasant minimum. He had a few moments before the servants arrived to bring him breakfast and to dress him. Plus, he remembered this chapter, so today was the day he could finally get past all the preamble in the story and see how Julian was doing.

Oh, they’d already met once during the prologue, of course, playing different roles from their respective character’s ancestry. Why the holosuite hadn’t loaded one of the good doctor’s silly spy programs as planned and instead somehow latched onto the Cardassian novel Garak had given him at lunch was a mystery they could solve with Quark later.

Twilight Unknown was a novel Garak had read in his youth, but hadn’t thought of in years until Julian mentioned wondering what Cardassian literature was like from before Cardassians had achieved interstellar travel. Indeed, Terrans seemed to have almost an unhealthy fixation on the art from their distant, pre-first contact past. By contrast, Cardassians were much more interested in the potential they had realized when they expanded their reach to the stars.

This particular novel, however, was a timeless classic for… many reasons. It was a fine encapsulation of the themes and values that Cardassian society had taken with them into the stars. The themes of family and devotion were, rightly so, as they always were and should always be. But it was also a light, accessible read that the good doctor should appreciate.

The servants arrived, two appropriately attractive and demure Cardassians who kept their gaze respectfully lowered. The young man bore a tray of sugary ikri buns, taspar eggs prepared two ways, and a steaming bowl of tefla broth, along with an assortment of seasonal fruits already cut and ready to eat at Garak’s leisure. The young woman’s arms were laden with his robes for the day. In this period of Cardassian history, the aristocracy wore proper layers of linens and silks under an outer layer of fine brocade. The finer the silk threads and the more detailed the pattern, the higher one’s status was in society. It was a lost art that Garak admired. Today his robe was a stunning embroidered geometric pattern in brilliant golds and indigos with looped fasteners made of soft, tawny ropes of silk thread that both servants worked together to deftly tie into a complex pattern that would have been difficult to achieve on his own.

“Thank you,” Garak said once they were done, dismissing them with a stately nod.

Next came his assistant, an unassuming young man by the name of Hojon who was doomed to societal ruin and then death in the third act. A pity, really. Garak rather liked him.

Lunch with a potential business partner, a meeting regarding his newly-acquired duties as head of the family business, and, most importantly, a trip out to one of their business partners, a small company focused on preserving an ancient traditional method of dyeing textiles in the natural hot spring water of the Hanok Mountains.

This went against what Garak remembered of the story, but he waved a hand regardless. “Cancel lunch and the meeting, I wish to depart for Hanok before midday.”

Hojon blinked at him. “Sir?”

“You heard me.” Garak stood as tall and imperiously as he could muster. “Must I repeat myself?”

“No, sir. I’ll get right on that.” Hojon scurried away, leaving Garak to bask in his finery and his breakfast and the illusion of being home for a little while longer.

The funny thing about holosuites, Julian knew for the purposes of the story, to everyone else he appeared Cardassian, but he still saw his normal, human face in the mirror when he washed his face each morning. It was the beginning of another balmy, sunny day. If he were really working outside in the hot springs all day, even with the weaker Cardassian sun, he would definitely at least be more tanned by now, if not burned. He wondered, at the same relative point in time on Earth, people had used aloe vera for sunburns… what was the remedy for overexposure to the sun on Cardassia?

He communed with his in-story coworkers in a large, open stone hall with a pit filled with hot stones in the center. Julian picked up his simple breakfast of eggs and fruit and took it to a seat that was not so close to the pit where he’d be sweating, but not so far that he couldn’t enjoy its warmth.

“Julian, I trust you slept well,” one of the elder tradesmen greeted him. He had the strong Cardassian tendency to pronounce the ‘J’ more like a ‘Ch’ sound that came through the universal translator from time to time. Julian rather liked the way it sounded.

“Yes, thank you.” Julian shifted over to make room. “And you as well, I trust, Yuzen?”

“As well as can be expected.” Yuzen settled in and carefully began peeling the shell off a boiled taspar egg. “Conditions will be ideal again today. We should make good progress.”

Julian looked out the window at the mist-shrouded mountains. “You can tell already?”

Yuzen grunted indignantly. “I’ve been doing this since before you were a trickle in your family river, my boy.”

Julian grinned. If Yuzen only knew. “My apologies.”

“Eat up,” Yuzen wasn’t impressed by the grin. “There is much to do today.”

A young apprentice approached, his bare feet whispering across the stones. “Sir.” He leaned close to Yuzen to murmur something Julian couldn’t hear.

Yuzen cocked his head to the side. “So soon? We’ll be at the springs then.” He shrugged, then said, “Perhaps that is his aim. Bring him to me when he arrives.” He popped the last of his egg in his mouth.

As the apprentice dashed away, Yuzen noted the blatant curiosity on Julian’s face. “A nobleman from a company we deal with.” He muttered a word in Kardasi that neither Julian nor the universal translator picked up. “Might do him good to get his scales wet.”

“Feel the warmth given unto him as a child of Cardassia,” Julian cheerily picked up on the proverb he’d only just learned the day before.

After breakfast, Julian convened with the other junior tradesmen outside and waited for Yuzen to lead them to the springs. At this point in Cardassian history, the people were segregated much the same way Earth’s had been during a comparative period, so women were mostly separate, doing their work inside or in the gardens. He could see a group of them walking in the direction of the orchard; two small girls running circles as they chased one another.

The orchard was also interesting. He wished he could show it to Keiko. The trees were twisted and hard, like talons emerging from cracks in the rocks to reach for the sky. Some fruits resembled small, tart apples, others were like aromatic figs or juicy pomegranate. Julian also couldn’t wait to ask Garak how accurate the holosuite’s recreated taste had been.

Come to think of it, the holosuite this time around seemed, he didn’t know how to put it, more vibrant somehow. It was already weird to begin with. They weren’t supposed to be in a Cardassian novel: this was supposed to be one of Julian’s spy programs. And for some reason the door wouldn’t appear when they asked for it. When he and Garak met in the prologue, they agreed to just go with it for the time being. If anything went wrong, someone on the outside would notice, right?

In any case, this was nice, being in the Cardassian countryside, seeing what the culture was like pre-spacefaring age. Julian’s character in the story worked in textile dyeing. The process involved a dye reminiscent of indigo back on Earth, laying it on smooth silk fabrics in attractive patterns and then setting it with shallow geothermal pools. It was careful, tedious work, and spending the whole day bent over the water gave everyone involved a sore back.

The sun had nearly reached its pinnacle when a group of Cardassians approached from the direction of the main compound. Julian looked up as Yuzen pardoned himself to greet them. These must be the business people he’d mentioned.

“Julian,” Yuzen called to him. He gestured for Julian to join them.

Julian handed the fabric he was working on to an assistant waiting at his side and waded through the warm spring waters towards him.

“Allow me to introduce one of my most promising workers,” Yuzen drew Julian into the group with a soft touch on his arm. “Julian. Julian, this is Gwul Garak, the owner of one of our long-trusted business partners in the city.”

“Gwul?” Julian repeated the unfamiliar word.

“You’ll find some dialects evolve into more of a ‘gul’ pronunciation,” Garak inclined his head in greeting. He winked, “in the future, you might as well.”

Interesting. So there had been some sort of etymological shift in the interim. Julian made a mental note to ask if Garak had any books on the Kardassi language, although non-fiction didn’t quite seem to be his style. Julian couldn’t judge, really. What was the last nonfiction book he read aside from medical journals?

‘Gwul’ Garak played his part in the story by stepping forward to gather Julian’s hands in his. “Your hands are testament to your hard work, my dear.” Julian dropped his gaze to see where the indigo dye had stained his fingertips. The dark blue was an attractive contrast to Garak’s pristine aristocratic gray skin. “I look forward to seeing the fruits of your labour.”

Was it the nature of the book or Garak’s delivery of the line that made it sound like an innuendo? Maybe it was just Julian’s wishful thinking. He was in the process of trying to come up with what he hoped was an appropriately coy response when all hell broke loose.

“Ow!” O’Brien reeled back and shook his hand. He let loose a string of colourful epithets. “The hell was that?”

“Uhh… I donno.” Rom took a peek but immediately retreated from the shower of sparks that burst out of the open panel. “Looks like some of the holoschematic relays rerouted.”

“Some of the what?” O’Brien gave up before he got an answer and shouted, “Quark? Where the hell is the inventor of this shite?”

“I’m working on it, he’ll answer the message…” came the answer shouted back to him, “eventually.”

“Eventually isn’t good enough.”

Quark turned to Morn and spread his hands. “Everyone wants everything right away these days. No one has any patience anymore, it’s not good. I weep for future generations.”

Chapter Text

Julian paused to look over his shoulder. Before he could get a good look at their pursuers, however, Garak pulled him by the arm. They couldn’t afford to stop. Julian was bleeding from where one of the Imperial guards who had descended upon the hot springs had smacked him across the face. Actually bleeding. Along with loading the wrong program, the holosuite was also on the wrong safety settings. That changed things.

Julian scrambled up the rocky incline after him. “Will they be alright?”

“They’ll be fine,” Garak lied.

“Are you sure?” Julian asked.

Garak whirled around with an exasperated, “Doctor.” He spread his hands and gave Julian a pointed look. “If you have the time to spare worrying about fictional tradesmen, I would advise you to focus instead on getting your very non-fictional self out of harm’s way?”

“Yes, yes of course.” Julian caught up to him, looking what he hoped was a proper level of abashed.

“Come along then, if I recall the story correctly there should be some caves we can hide in up ahead.” Garak knew all too well the pain that came with receiving an injury inside a malfunctioning holosuite program. Luckily the Imperial Soldiers of this era didn’t have much in the way of long-range weaponry.

What bothered him was, the soldiers from the capital weren’t supposed to arrive in this chapter. They were supposed to arrive after Hojon discovered the papers that pointed to Garak’s character having been involved in his father’s murder. The holosuite had started out following the same plot as the novel, what happened? Was it Garak’s fault for improvising and going off script?

They reached the mouth of the caves and Garak rushed Julian inside ahead of him. In the process he caught another full look at Julian in his simple historical Cardassian garb, layers of light, breathable linen draped around his lean frame that shifted and caught the shadows as he moved. He was, simply put, absolutely lovely. A little unexpected adventure was worth it, Garak supposed.

Garak kept Julian moving until they were sufficiently deep into the cave. Here the only light was a faint glow coming off a geothermal pool in the deepest corner. The only sound was the faint echoing drip of water. In the novel they would be undisturbed until the next morning, but Garak stayed alert nonetheless.

“Will I, er, will my character ever see them again?” Julian asked.

“I’m afraid not.”

“Oh.” Julian slid down the wall to sit on the ground. “Shame, I liked Yuzen.”

Of course he did. Garak shook his head. “I’m sure. And, I assure you, he liked you as well.”

Julian looked up at him. “What do you mean by that?”

“Exactly what I said,” Garak answered primly.

Julian wasn’t fooled, not this time. “No, you said it with that tone you get.”

Tone? What tone? How dare he. Garak gathered his robe around himself and sniffed. “My dear, I don’t think you realize the effect you have on your elders sometimes.”

Julian still had that look. It was clear as day even in the dark cave. “Well, why don’t you tell me?” he said with a sharp, argumentative tone.

“Excuse me?” Garak put on his haughtiest of airs.

“You’re also my ‘elder’ aren’t you?” Julian said pointedly.

Garak looked away. “Some things are best learned on one’s own.”

Julian scoffed and fussed a bit with his clothing. “Well, I must say this has been more exciting than I anticipated. Usually the books you give me involve more… talking,” he hugged his knees and, always so forgiving, graced Garak with a little grin, “less running and hiding in caves.”

“Yes, well,” Garak folded his hands before him, “the holosuite appears to have given us the abridged version, perhaps it tailored the story towards your tastes.”

“Ah.” Julian accepted this. It seemed plausible enough. “So what now?”

“If the story sticks to what I know, we hide here until morning and then cross the mountains to the capital,” Garak told him.

“I see.” Julian looked around. The soft glow coming off the geothermal pool painted patterns on the cavern walls. They played off Garak’s features, softening his ridges. He was dressed in clothes that suited him, Julian thought. They were much fancier than what he was wearing. Julian was no expert, of course, Garak made sure to remind him of that often, but he could still appreciate beauty when he saw it. “Until morning, huh?”

Garak avoided looking directly at him. “Yes. Then it will be safe.” Probably.

“However shall we pass the time?” Hopefully the holosuite would speed things up a little for them in that respect as well. Julian wondered aloud, “What did our characters do while they were hiding in here? In the novel?”

“They…” Garak chose his words carefully, “got to know each other.”

“More talking.”

For the most part. “Yes.” Garak moved from the wall to approach the pool. He gathered his robes and lowered himself down onto one of the smooth, flat rocks that flanked it. “There is a Cardassian tradition, even older than this time period.” He sighed as the warmth from the pool and the rocks seeped into him. “One must not let such a pristine geothermal pool go to waste.”

Julian came over to join him. He settled in directly next to Garak, facing him on his side even without knowing how the story was supposed to go. “A little casual rock bathing to offset the excitement?”

“Excitement…” Garak repeated, amused. “You would consider it that way.” He closed his eyes with a faint hum. The warmth seeped into him and made all his problems seem just far enough away to relax. When he opened them again, it was to Julian watching him closely. In the book, Garak imagined the set-up was much the same.

“So…” Julian asked fondly, caring nothing for the danger and seeing Garak only as a friend, “what shall we talk about?”

Sisko entered Quark’s at a brisk walk. It had been several hours, and the next wave of customers had already taken up residence around the bar and at the Dabo tables. It was noisy and rowdy as usual. Was he surprised that Quark kept the bar open given the circumstances? Not in the slightest, but he could be a little irked at it all the same. He found O’Brien, Rom, Quark, Odo, and a Bolian man he didn’t recognize standing at the counter.

“Captain,” O’Brien greeted him.

Quark launched into businessman mode. “Captain, this is Ffoniayd,” he indicated the Bolian, “the… uh, the inventor of our new holosuite interface.”

“Your new holosuite interface,” Sisko corrected him. He addressed Ffoniayd directly, “Can you shut down the program?”

Ffoniayd opened his mouth, then closed it, then looked at Quark.

“Don’t look at him, you answer to me,” Sisko ordered him. “My Chief Medical Officer is in that holosuite, and I would like him back in one piece.”

Quark and Rom both cringed, casting furtive glances at Odo and O’Brien respectively. The fallout from having to admit that the ones trapped in the faulty holosuite were none other than Doctor Bashir and Garak was still fresh in their memories.

Ffoniayd looked once more at Quark, then launched into an explanation. “The interface had an experimental subroutine that would scan any fictional work on the user’s person and create an immersive program that follows the story.” He paused to see if Sisko had any questions. He did not. “It was not meant to be automatic per-say, if a program was preloaded that should have disabled the autoscan and proceeded as normal. However, this time there was a malfunction…” He cleared his throat. “It appears that the holosuite attempted to load two programs at once, which overloaded the system and locked it into a safety subroutine I added as a failsafe…” he cleared his throat, “to ensure no damage to the users’ minds in the event of a power surge.”

“Well, we should be thankful for that,” Sisko remarked wryly.

“Captain.” Kira came stalking in at that moment. “We just got word from the Federation. This man is wanted in three sectors for illegal brain-scan technology and data smuggling.”

“The smuggling charges were entirely fabricated,” Ffoniayd protested.

“There’s no pending approval for this technology, is there?” Sisko accused him. The answer to his question was clear even without Ffoniayd saying a word.

“Pending is such a broad term,” Quark tried to save face. It didn’t work.

Luckily the holosuite did shorten time for them, so morning light began filtering into the cave in what felt like only maybe an hour or so. Long enough to facilitate conversation and enjoy rock bathing by the pool without going on so long as to feel gratuitous. That said, Julian was going to be in for a surprise when he got around to reading the actual novel. But Garak was a gentleman, despite his many failings. The holosuite didn’t blur the lines between fiction and reality that far, either.

The prose of the original novel also did nothing to prepare Garak for the enchanting vision of Julian bathed in soft morning shadows under a hazy sky, a warm breeze ruffling his hair and making his clothing dance around him.

How Garak wished he could bring Julian to the real Cardassia. It looked different in many ways now, of course; this was a period piece. But the Hanok Mountains still stood proudly over the hot springs, so far as he knew. Was it too much of a stretch to entertain the fantasy of bringing Julian there for real, someday? Was a peaceful future where they could rock bathe next to each other for real, not in a holographic simulation, really so impossible?

Oh, but Garak was an old fool. Being in the world of the novel was making him sentimental.

Julian reached where the path came to a peak ahead of him and raised his voice. “What a view! Is this what it really looked like?”

Garak joined him. The view from this point in the trail gave them a spectacular view of the capital. It still followed the old traditions for how Cardassian cities had been organized, with multi-storied stone structures clustered around the Imperial palace and its expansive gardens in the center. Crude early airships, powered by steam engines, hung lazily in the air over the city. The holosuite had done a decent recreation by his judgement. There were a few anachronisms here and there, the swooping spires and sloped roofs were more modern styles, but that could be attributed to the limited scope of reference the computer had regarding historical Cardassian architecture, he surmised. “It’s not too far off the archive images I recall from my history lessons.”

“Marvellous!” Julian declared. He beamed at Garak. “Shall we?”

Garak followed him down the path. After only a few steps, his foot slipped on some loose rock and he nearly lost his footing. It was only when Julian swooped in to catch him by the arm and steady him that he ruefully realized that they had inadvertently recreated a moment from the original story.

“Are you alright?” Julian asked.

“Yes, yes,” Garak assured him, feeling a little breathless. Another thing mirrored from the book. “These shoes, favoured by the upper class at the time…” he glanced down towards the embroidered boots he wore, “they were not exactly made with traversing mountains in mind.”

“Understandable.” Julian’s touch on Garak’s arm moved downwards. “Here–”

Garak pulled his hand away. “I beg your pardon?”

Julian frowned at him. “It’ll be safer if we hold hands.”

“Hold hands?”

“Yes.”

Absurd. “I’m perfectly fine, Doctor. I’ll just be more mindful of where I step.”

Julian kept his hand held out towards him. “Even so.”

“I am hardly a child,” Garak scoffed.

“Of course,” Julian said with a dry sardonic edge to it. “Nor are you acting like one.” They were at a stalemate. “How about this, then?” He closed the distance between them, a distressing habit of his, and hooked his hand into the crook of Garak’s elbow. “This should be acceptable, right?”

Indeed, it was often that companionable Cardassians walked with their arms linked in this fashion. Garak laid his opposite hand over Julian’s. “You’ve remembered your literature well, my dear. But we are from different classes, so you will need to walk behind me when we reach the capital.”

“An experience I’m sure you’ll thoroughly enjoy.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I suspect the view might be a bit lacking.”

Julian did that charming little eye squint he did when he needed a moment to try and parse something Garak said, then he blushed and directed his eyes forward. “My view might be considerably improved, now that you mention it.”

Garak said nothing, but Julian thought he saw something in the little smile on his face.

As the foothills began to give way to arid flatlands and the capital loomed near, Julian almost slipped his hand from Garak’s elbow, then stopped himself and asked, “Did your character really kill his father?”

“Do you remember what I told you about guilty characters in Cardassian novels?” Garak met the question with his own.

“Everyone is guilty, the question is of what exactly, as I recall,” Julian answered.

“Precisely, my dear.” Garak inclined his head toward him and lowered his voice playfully, “Which bears the question, what do you think your character is guilty of?” He patted Julian on the hand and then slipped his elbow out from under his grip. “Now remember, you must always be three steps behind me. I promise I will lead us to safety.”

Julian’s steps slowed. “Me? What could I possibly be guilty of?” His character was a simple tradesman.

Garak kept walking. “What, indeed?”

Julian followed. “You’re going to make me figure it out myself, aren’t you?”

Of course he was.

Chapter Text

The airships were a wonder to behold. They sailed lazily overhead, carrying banners with the crests of prominent Cardassian aristocratic families that stood out, stark, against a hazy ochre sky. Julian was so taken with the sight he nearly walked into someone.

“Oh, apologies.” He looked around, panicked for a split second when he almost lost sight of Garak in a sea of similarly dressed aristocrats and their entourages, but recognized him quickly. He wove through the crowd to catch up.

The capital was bustling, filled with all manner of sights and smells and sounds. It was dirty, with everything covered in a fine layer of dust. The class disparity was more visible up close like this, the lines clearly drawn. Those who were dressed in finery like Garak walked with their heads high, in straight lines, scales gleaming. Anyone dressed in simple attire like Julian or in the ragged remnants of such kept their heads down, their scales dulled by malnutrition and poor living conditions. It was disturbing to see, a stark reminder of the culture that would follow Cardassia into the future and to distant stars.

Three steps behind. The moment they entered the city, Garak hadn’t given him the barest of glances. Left to his own devices, Julian’s mind wandered. What had Garak been like before his exile? What had Garak been like as a young man? He carried himself like an aristocrat so easily, it felt like second nature. Had he lived a life of luxury while he did his training for the Obsidian Order, or had the luxury come after? It was hard to imagine in detail, but also easy to believe; which was very ‘Garak’ when you thought about it.

One turn led into another, followed by two more. The crowd thinned, the streets grew cleaner and quieter. The Imperial palace loomed over them. Julian watched as one of the airships moved in to be tethered to one of its spires. It glowed gold and bronze in the hazy late-afternoon light.

“This,” Garak spoke for the first time in ages, startling Julian out of his thoughts, “is a home my character’s father kept for when he had business in the capital. We should be safe here.” For a few chapters. “Come, Doctor.” He made sure the street was empty, and held the door open for Julian to enter ahead of him.

Julian turned around once the door was closed, too soon and too close. Some irrational corner of Garak’s mind wondered if Julian had actually read the book somehow. “What now?” he asked.

“Now…” Garak reached up to caress the bruising still visible on the corner of Julian’s mouth. “I think we’ve had our fun, my dear. We need to find a way to end the program.”

“Oh,” Julian looked crestfallen. His lips brushed softly against the pad of Garak’s thumb as he said, “but we tried again last night, in the cave, and the computer still didn’t respond.”

Garak took a deep breath. “Computer, end program.”

Nothing.

“Our best bet,” Julian reminded him, “is to either wait for someone outside to realize what’s happened and fix it, or…” he curled his fingers around Garak’s wrist, “hope the holosuite will shut down naturally once we reach the end of the story.” Garak remained unconvinced. Julian added, “The story, which you already know. It might be a little different, as you said, but assuming the major story beats are still going on, then, what do we do now?”

For a moment Garak almost seemed like he was about to lean in even closer than they already were. Julian waited, his heart beating so fast he wondered if Garak might hear it.

“You are, of course, correct.” Garak stepped back. He led the way further into the house. “Let me ask you this, what do you think your character did now?”

Julian’s skin still tingled where Garak’s touch had been. Garak had almost reached the staircase at the opposite end of the foyer before his mind kicked into gear and he followed after him. “I’m not sure. I suppose… tend to my wounds? To be thrust so abruptly out of that simple, peaceful life, it must have been quite a shock for him.” What else? “I imagine he was eager to go home.”

Garak bypassed the staircase and went through a door half-hidden behind it. “You don’t believe he had any ambitions beyond that life?”

“That’s a difficult question. What is a Cardassian without ambition, after all?”

“An excellent point.”

Through the door behind the staircase they entered into a large, open area with a hearth and what looked like an antique– no, Julian caught himself ruefully, an era-appropriate oven to the left, and a large pantry of sorts to the left with mostly empty shelves and a sturdy table, presumably for food preparation.

Julian hovered between the two sections of the room while Garak opened a few cabinets and returned with an ornate carved box. “Do I get a hint or something?”

“A hint?” Garak sniffed, affronted.

“You’re right. Where’s the fun in that?” Julian snarked. He thought for a moment. “I suppose meeting your character would have provided the opportunity to move up in the world.”

Garak tutted. “Think about what you know of the Cardassian culture of today, our today.” From the ornate box he picked out a jar of some sort of herbal-smelling salve. “Do you really think moving above one’s class was really possible in this time?”

Julian wrinkled his nose at the salve. “What’s that?”

“Ointment for your wound.” Garak took a dollop on his finger and handed the jar off to Julian to inspect. “You haven’t answered the question.”

Julian thought about it. “I don’t imagine so, no.”

“Precisely.” Garak dabbed the salve on Julian’s wound.

Julian wondered about the efficacy of holosuite medicine, but if the food fooled his mind, then why not? Being taken care of in this manner was also a rather nice change. He still didn’t know the answer to Garak’s question, though. If moving up to a higher class status was out of the question… “Was perhaps my character’s motivation to return to working as a tradesman? He was an apprentice of sorts; surely there was upward mobility there. He could have started his own business, or Yuzen could have taken him under his wing…?”

Garak took the salve jar back from Julian to stow away in the box. “Could a guilty man so easily go back to that life?”

Oh, right. Julian’s character was also supposed to be guilty of something. “This isn’t fair, Garak. It’s obvious for you because you’ve already read this story.”

“I’m sure someone as well-read as you can figure it out,” Garak assured him, smug, because that meant he didn’t have to give any answers.

“I think you just like to watch me suffer.”

“You consider our literary debates suffering?”

“They’re a repetitive epic in their own right by this point.”

“What a charming sentiment. Imagine, future generations carrying on the tradition of us disagreeing over spiced pudding day in and day out.” Garak replaced the ornate box back where he’d found it.

“I wasn’t being quite so literal.” Julian followed him back out into the main foyer. “And anyway,” he took two steps at a time to overtake Garak on the staircase and stop him half-way, “I was dropped in this role unawares and have done nothing but act as myself. You haven’t even told me what my character’s actual name is, or yours for that matter. How can I surmise anything about his ambitions, or what he may be guilty of?”

Garak’s face was unreadable, mysterious, and just a shade condescending. He deftly stepped around Julian without answering. “There should be some spare clothes up here for you to change into. You will accompany me to a meeting with my assistant, Hojon. If the story continues to progress in the abbreviated format it has taken, we should have answers to some of your questions very soon. And the sooner we can get our answers, the sooner we can hopefully get out of here.”

“Wait, at least answer me this,” Julian caught up with him again. “Do our characters survive this story?”

“That…” Garak paused, “is rather left open for interpretation.”

“That doesn’t seem very much like the Cardassian literature you’ve given me before,” Julian observed with some surprise.

“Yes, well…” Garak trailed off airily.

Julian narrowed his eyes at him. “What aren’t you telling me? I mean, there’s plenty you’re not telling me, that’s normal, but what are you hiding from me?”

“I don’t quite know what you mean.” Garak found the right room and ignored the furnishings to open a large wardrobe. He considered the options stored within and changed the subject entirely, “My character in the story is a proper aristocrat through and through, there is some commentary in the novel about how he is ill equipped to properly disguise your character without the assistance of his servants.” He selected a set of robes that would best suit Julian’s complexion and turned with a pleased glint in his eye. “You should be glad I do not share in his failings.”

Jadzia showed up around the thirtieth or so time when O’Brien received an electric shock. Not to help or anything, she was just there for her own amusement.

“How’s it going?” she asked.

“Terribly,” O’Brien groused.

“What do you think they’re doing in there?”

O’Brien considered his next angle of attack and reached back inside the mess of circuits. “Hard to say. But they must have realized by now that they can’t get out.”

“And we’re sure they’re not in one of Julian’s spy stories?”

O’Brien handed her the padd he was using to access the holosuite’s metadata. “Says ‘file unknown’. Rom figures the interface got its wires crossed and tried to load a program the same time it was scanning whatever book they had on them and that’s the cause of this mess.”

“Hmm…” Jadzia tapped through the sparse information available to them. “It must be something from their little book club.”

O’Brien snorted. “Hopefully not one of the Cardassian books, don’t those go on and on forever? At least they’d be having fun in one of Julian’s.”

“I don’t know about that.” Jadzia handed the padd back. “Imagine how much fun they’d have bickering over a Cardassian story? You know how they get.”

O’Brien made a face. “Don’t remind me. Glad I’m not trapped in there with them.”

“I thought you said you knew what you were doing?” Julian teased.

Garak frowned. “Yes, well, I’ve never had to deal with these old styles before, so… the… particular manner in which the fastenings must be tied is… something I’ve only ever read about, I must confess.”

Julian thought for a moment. “As I recall, Earth fashions from this same period in time were also more complicated than they are now.”

Garak sniffed. “Were they as much an affront to the eye as what you wear now, I wonder?”

“Remind me to find some holoimages for you to pass judgement on later.” Julian shook his head. “You don’t mind the tuxedos from my spy stories, do you?”

“Those are acceptable,” Garak allowed with an air of magnanimity.

“Only ‘acceptable’?”

Finally satisfied with his work, Garak stepped back to give Julian one final once-over. “I much prefer how you look now, my dear.” He indicated the full-length mirror next to the wardrobe.

Julian turned and it was clear by how his eyes crinkled that he was pleased with what he saw. “Oh, my…” He smoothed a hand down the heavy, embroidered robe. He caught Garak’s eye in the reflection. “It’s certainly something.”

Garak made one last adjustment of how the open collar sat upon Julian’s shoulders. “I dare say it suits you just as well as it does any Cardassian of good standing, my dear.”

“Perhaps I should commision you to make me some real robes like these,” Julian said, turning to face him properly, “not that I have anywhere to wear them, of course.”

Garak inclined his head. “It would be my pleasure.”

Garak didn’t address the question of where Julian would wear the robes. Julian spread his hands. “Okay, so, what now?”

“Now,” Garak took his time lowering his hands from where they still hovered over Julian’s shoulders, “we meet with Hojon and then infiltrate a gala to discover who dared send the Imperial soldiers out to disrupt our pleasant meeting.”

“I’m beginning to see why you selected this book for me.”

“I thought you might enjoy that part.”

Once they were out on the streets, Julian saw the reason for his wardrobe change; he was ‘allowed’ by the rules of society to walk alongside Garak now. This was nice for many reasons, not least of which was the fact that Garak smoothly hooked Julian’s hand into the crook of his elbow. It also allowed Julian to ask more questions.

“Will we get to ride in one of those airships at some point?”

“Sadly no, not that I recall.”

“Shame.” Julian thought for a moment. “But then again, we’re not strictly bound to the narrative, are we?”

“No,” Garak agreed slowly, “I don’t suppose we are.”

Quark was about to pour Ffoniayd another drink when he spotted Sisko out the corner of his eye and quickly hid the bottle behind the counter. “Captain,” he greeted him, casual, unbothered, the picture of having everything under control.

Sisko heard a bzzt and a string of creative cuss words from the direction of the holosuites, which didn’t bode well for the answer he was bound to get when he asked, “Well? Any progress?”

“I’ve been reviewing the data your chief of engineering extracted and it’s been quite illuminating,” Ffoniayd told him. “I couldn’t have predicted that the scan technology would interfere with loading preset programs in this way, but with the benefit of hindsight it was well within the realm of possibilities. It is good to see the failsafes acted as they should have, the lockdown notwithstanding. I see now that an external manual shutdown will be a crucial addition in the future.”

“Glad to hear it,” Sisko wasn’t glad, not at all, “but I want to know what is being done now to get my people out of there.”

“They’re working on it, Benjamin,” Jadzia inserted herself in the conversation. She sat at the bar and tapped the counter expectantly. Quark poured her a drink. “I wondered if we might be able to beam them out of there with the teleporter, but Miles didn’t think that was a good idea.”

“It was worth a shot.”

“An interesting proposition,” Ffoniayd tapped his chin.

“Miles said the holodeck on the Enterprise malfunctioned often, so he has experience with stuff like this,” Jadzia said helpfully. “I’ve heard that some of their holographic characters even became self-aware.”

“Really!” Ffoniayd turned around to face her in amazement.

Sisko felt a headache coming on. All the more reason to get Doctor Bashir out of the holosuite. “There won’t be any adverse effects on their minds from all this, will there?”

“I don’t imagine so,” Ffoniayd gave him the first piece of good news all day, “not to their minds, anyway.”

Cancel that thought. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It would appear the safety settings were among those reset in the computational confusion,” Ffoniayd admitted.

Jadzia jumped in to explain further, “So their minds are safe from the experimental interface, but depending on the story they’re playing, they might still be in some danger.”

“And we don’t know what story it is still?”

“We don’t.” Jadzia shrugged. “So there’s no sense worrying, if it does turn out to be one of Julian’s spy stories, he’s smart enough to get out of it, if it’s one of Garak’s epics, the biggest danger will be talking each other to death…” She gave them all a sly grin and added, “For all we know it’s an Earth or even a Cardassian romance novel.”

Quark grimaced. “I can only imagine what that would be like.”

Sisko closed his eyes to compose himself. “I don’t care what they’re doing in there, I want them out. Now, Quark.”

“We’re working on it,” Quark assured him.

Bzzt. “Ow! Damn it!”

Quark cleared his throat. “Chief O’Brien is working on it.”

Chapter Text

“After you,” Garak stood aside for Julian to cross the walkway into the airship ahead of him.

Julian marvelled at the large, metallic balloon overhead. “Imagine! The ingenuity that went into this. The baby steps that took Cardassia into the sky before they moved on to the stars beyond. I imagine the zeppelins and aerocraft of Earth were much the same.”

Garak tried to imagine it. He assumed the Cardassian efforts were more aesthetically pleasing, comparatively so. But at the same time, Julian’s excitement was infectious. “I, too, have never seen one of these in person. There was one…” he caught up to Julian and took his arm, “in a museum near where I studied as a boy.”

“Was there?”

“Well, there was a holoimage of one, but… is it really so different? We are about to step onto a holographic recreation, after all.”

“Ah, yes. Right.” Julian looked down over the walkway railing. “Just me or does it seem more real than most holosuite programs?”

“Oh, I don’t know, the sharks with lasers in your last adventure program seemed pretty real to me.”

“You won’t let that rest, will you?”

“Why would someone equip aquatic creatures, that…” Garak trailed off, “…already…” He abandoned his argument entirely, “Oh my.”

Julian looked at him quizzically, “What is it?”

“The gala we were to infiltrate later on in the story,” Garak lowered his voice to explain. He indicated the interior of the airship, which was an open space filled with tables laden with food and bottles of kanar between groups of Cardassian aristocrats dressed in finery with their servants at their beck and call. A quartet playing music on instruments unfamiliar to Julian were in the corner. “It appears the holosuite saw fit to bring it to us.”

“That’s… odd. I’ve never known the holosuite to be so… responsive.” Julian furrowed his brow. “You don’t suppose…?”

“We’ve been caught up in some mischief Quark’s gotten into and not just a standard malfunction?” Garak finished his sentence. “It stands to reason. I’ve suspected it for a while now.”

“I hope we’re not in any danger.” Julian looked around. “Computer?” he tested. There was still no response. “How long have we been in here, anyway?”

“It’s hard to say, the elevated story progression has made it difficult to keep track.”

“Yes.” Julian narrowed his eyes while he tried to puzzle it out. “It’s been at least a few hours…”

Before he could figure it out, one of the Cardassian aristocrats in the gala noticed them and turned. “Gwul Garak?” he approached them, “Why, I had word you were killed in the Hanok Mountains.”

“A vicious rumour, I assure you.” Garak fell into character, stepping forward to meet the other man. “It is good to see you again, Gwul Resun.” They exchanged stately nods.

Resun spotted Julian over his shoulder. “And who have you brought to join us?”

“Allow me to introduce my good friend,” Garak said with a slight pause, “Julian.” He let his hand rest possessively over where Julian’s hand was at the crook of his elbow. “He is visiting from across the desert.”

“Hello,” Julian greeted Resun.

“Across the desert, I see…” Resun nodded to him.

Garak gave him a slight urging forward. “My dear, why don’t you go enjoy the party while Resun and I catch up, hm? Help yourself to some of the drinks. Meet some people.”

He’d done this to Julian in the prologue too. Oh, but you haven’t read the book yet. I don’t want to spoil it for you. Excuses, excuses. Garak just liked keeping him in the dark.

A lady with elegantly upswept hair and heavy jewels adorning the open neckline of her robes approached him when Julian stood at the window to appreciate the view. “I see you arrived with Gwul Garak.”

“Er,” Julian turned to face her, “yes. I’m visiting… from… across the desert.” Even as he said it, he wondered if there wasn’t some double meaning he wasn’t privy to.

“I see.” The lady gave a regal nod. If there was a double meaning, she was too proper to let it show. “I am Bijyn. And what may I call you?”

Julian returned the nod. “Julian.”

“Just Julian?”

When in Rome… “Yes.” His mouth curved playfully on, “Just plain, simple Julian.”

“Is this your first visit to the capital?”

“It is.” Julian indicated the cityline outside the airship’s large oval windows. “It’s lovely.”

“From up here, yes,” Bijyn agreed. She inclined her head towards Julian and lowered her voice. “Is it true?”

“Is what true?”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Did you ever meet Gwul Garak’s father?”

“Er… I can’t say I have, no.”

“For the best, perhaps.” She sipped her kanar. “So you don’t know if it’s true?”

Julian honestly told her, “I haven’t the faintest idea.”

“Well,” Bijyn gave him a sly, meaningful smile, “if the rumours are true, I consider it a shame. Had he just kept his head down, he could have gone on to do great things.”

Julian looked too, and the view of Garak across the room charming the pants off not just Resun but a number of other Cardassians who had joined them brought a fond smile to his lips. “Perhaps he still might.”

“Rom!”

“Uh, yyyyes, Chief?” Rom scurried over to where O’Brien had opened another, bigger access hatch between the problem holosuite and the next one.

“Did you reroute the backup power connectors meant for life support to power the holosuites?” O’Brien grabbed Rom by his shirt at the shoulder and yanked him down to see better. “Here?”

Rom stalled but eventually admitted, “Yes.”

“Why would you do that?”

“M-My brother thought, that, uhhh… it might be useful…”

“Useful?” O’Brien looked incredulous. “To have working holosuites in an emergency?”

“He said that entertainment is one of the key basic needs for living organisms.”

“Breathable air is a basic need, Rom.” O’Brien lectured him. “Food and water, not–” He swivelled around and reached for the circuit board in question. “I’m disconnecting it, I think the power surge tricked the system into thinking the emergency support systems were online and that’s why it’s locked down.”

“Oh, then you should move the spoon a, a little to the left,” Rom advised him. “Otherwise it’ll short out.” He fidgeted with his hands nervously. “Might take down the whole bar’s powergrid.”

O’Brien dutifully edged the spoon over slightly, grumbling all the while. “That good?”

“Think so.”

“Alright. Here goes nothing…”

The lights flickered. Not just in the airship but, for a split second, all of it did. The horizon blipped in and out of view almost so quickly Julian would have missed it if he hadn’t been looking out the window.

Garak joined him. “It seems safe to assume our friends on the outside are doing something.”

“Seems so,” Julian agreed. The words had barely left his mouth when the lights flickered again and the floor beneath their feet shuddered violently. “Whoa!”

Garak grabbed his arm to steady the both of them.

Another jolt, and the whole airship tilted sharply to the left. Aristocrats and servants all around them raised their voices in alarm, glasses and bottles of kanar toppled over and shattered, there was a loud groan of hidden mechanics and straining metal before the airship righted itself again.

“Gwul Garak!” came a shout from across the room. “You’re under arrest for crimes against the state and murder!” Imperial soldiers began to filter into the room, from where, Julian couldn’t fathom. It was very ‘Cardassian’ to put crimes against the state before murder, however.

“Is this supposed to happen now?” Julian asked.

“We’re not even supposed to be on an airship right now,” Garak reminded him.

“Right…” Julian checked how far down the ground was. “Now what?”

“Sadly, these ships are not equipped with the tunnels left by smugglers to facilitate our escape,” Garak thought aloud, “I believe the best option now would be to either jump to our deaths and hope the safety settings on holosuite aren’t quite that low or…” he raised his hands as the Imperial soldiers surrounded them, “allow ourselves to be arrested.”

One of the soldiers cast a suspicious eye on Julian. “You’re with him?”

Julian glanced Garak’s way, then put his hands up as well. Surely this must be part of the story, right? Even if it wasn’t, Julian’s answer would have been the same. “Yes.”

“Come with us.”

The Imperial soldiers jabbed Julian in the back with their rifle-like weapons and herded him and Garak out from the room. On the way, Julian caught sight of Bijyn, who winked at him with an unreadable but also smug grin. Friend or foe? In stories like these, it was hard to say. In Cardassian literature one was often both at the same time.

“You already mentioned the murder of your character’s father,” Julian muttered, “but what possible crimes could he have done against the state?” That was a silly question. They wouldn’t have arrested him if he hadn’t done something. Wrongful accusations weren’t exactly the norm in these stories either. Unless Garak had found exactly the right novel that went against that trope just to mess with Julian.

“All in due time, Doctor.”

“No talking,” one of the soldiers gave him another jab.

Julian ignored him. “Surely you can tell me something?”

“And spoil the ending for you? I think not.”

“Oh, come on.” Julian shot him a disgruntled look. “Are we not past that point by now?”

“Patience, my dear. A considerable part of the story has been truncated, but we’re nearly at the third act by my understanding.”

Julian sighed. “I still don’t know where my character fits in all this.”

Garak’s smile, as per usual, gave away nothing.

The Imperial soldiers sequestered the pair of them, thankfully together, in an empty room, maybe an office or a storage room initially that the holosuite oh-so-helpfully removed the contents of for them. Garak was shoved in first, followed by Julian.

Julian spied the small space they were in, with barely enough room for them to stand shoulder to shoulder, and asked, “Are you going to be okay?”

Garak looked around. “Yes, if I remind myself that we are in the holosuite, it’s manageable.”

“Good. But if it starts to bother you, just say the word.”

“I will,” Garak agreed. Whether he meant it or not was yet to be seen.

Julian fidgeted in place. “Now that we’re alone, can you at least tell me if your character is guilty of the murder or not?”

“What do you think?”

This man. Julian shrugged, letting his fancy robes flap and flutter around him for a bit of drama. “Fine, let me change the question,” again, “does my character believe your character is guilty of murder?”

“That would spoil the story.”

Julian made a frustrated noise. Desperate to get an answer, any answer to something he asked, “What does being from ‘across the desert’ mean, really?”

“Ah, that’s–”

The door flew open again and a soldier grabbed Julian by the arm. “You, come with me.”

Already alarming, but the look of surprise on Garak’s face was what really sent a cold chill down Julian’s spine. This wasn’t supposed to happen. “Wait, I…!” he started to protest, but the guard had already yanked him out of the room and slammed the door, effectively blocking Garak from view and separating them.

Well. Damn.

Julian was marched down a narrow airship corridor, past where the gala had picked up like nothing ever happened, to a private travel cabin. It had seats on either side of a table covered with a pristine, gold-embroidered white tablecloth and set with what seemed to be a Cardassian tea set. None of the delicate cups, plates, and blunt butter knives looked like they would be much use in the way of weapons. Through the window, Julian could see the airship was slowly descending. He was left alone in the cabin just long enough to debate making an escape when the door opened again.

“Oh, hello again,” he greeted Bijyn, as politely as he could while still keeping his guard up.

She indicated one of the seats. “Please, sit.”

Julian only sat once she had taken the opposite seat. “What is this about?”

“I believe you are an innocent man,” she told him. “I had heard rumours that Gwul Garak took up with a commoner as his lover, but…” she trailed off, looking Julian over.

Julian froze in place. “I beg your pardon?” Was this part of the novel or had the holosuite gone off script again?

Bijyn waved a hand airly. “Rumours, dear Julian. I know they are not true. Look at you, no commoner could wear those robes so perfectly, and I have been informed that Gwul Garak has not been in contact with his family’s servants since returning to the capital.”

Thank you Garak, for being such a damned perfectionist. Julian wasn’t going to make fun of his fashion critiques for a while after this. He was still faced with the problem of what to say now, though. “Thank you, I think?”

Bijyn inclined her head. “You’re welcome.” She laced her fingers together and leaned her elbows on the table. “But you are lovers, that’s clear to see, which makes you privy to his secrets, and I did not pull strings just for your pretty face, Julian.”

Too late, Julian realized, yeah, Bijyn had disputed the commoner part of the rumour but not the lover aspect. “I don’t…” Clear to see? Lovers with Garak? Lovers? With Garak? Having it said so boldly to his face and not with teasing Jadzia-esque remarks kicked his mind into overdrive. Sure, they had lunch all the time and Julian would be lying if he didn’t find his friend utterly fascinating and attractive, but Julian had always been the type to rush headlong into romance (okay, sex) and figure the details out later. Literal years of lunches and literary discussion and a deepening friendship had meant the initial exhilarating attraction had passed and now… well, okay, so younger and more naive Julian might have kinda-sorta jumped the gun and fantasized about a real-life spy wanting to seduce him for his secrets, but irregardless of whatever Garak’s initial intentions had been, instead he’d become one of Julian’s dearest friends. Who was also utterly fascinating and attractive.

And then Julian reminded himself that Bijyn was a character in a novel and he was playing a character in that same story. She didn’t mean him and Garak. She meant his character and Garak’s character. Julian felt quite silly now.

“I confess, I don’t know what secrets I can tell you. I don’t even know what his company does,” Julian told her. “Only that he has dealings with a textile dyeing tradesman in the Hanok Mountains.”

“I don’t care about that,” Bijyn narrowed her eyes. “It’s no secret that the father also dealt in ferrying information on behalf of the government. Everyone in the aristocracy knew it.”

Of course. What would a Cardassian novel be without that element? “I see…”

“I want to know what he knows.” Bijyn stated. “If you, plain, simple Julian, can get me that information, I will guarantee your safe passage off this airship.”

“And Garak?”

“Will be executed as a traitor to the state. That is a fact. The only room for negotiation here is where your alliances stand.” Bijyn rapped her knuckles against the table and the door opened immediately. The soldiers who had escorted Julian to the cabin were there, presumably to escort him back. “The choice is yours.”

The airship swayed dangerously again on the walk back to where Garak was being kept. Julian wondered if it was part of the story or just further malfunctions with the holosuite. They really needed to finish the story and hopefully they could get out when it ended.

Garak was doing his best to appear unperturbed when Julian was pushed into the makeshift cell.

Once the door was closed, Julian leaned close and dropped his voice. “A woman I met before the soldiers came in, she wants me to betray you.”

“Will you?” Garak asked mildly.

“Of course not,” Julian huffed.

“You don’t think your character would?”

“Does he?” Julian accused. “We need to get out of here, Garak. The instability of the airship and the length of time we’ve been stuck in here is concerning me. Now, I get it, your character is guilty of something, my character is guilty of something, your father was apparently selling state secrets and someone, I assume not you because that would be too simple, murdered him for it. That woman will likely dispose of me once she has what she wants, fine. Very intriguing. A fine story. But what do we do next?”

“You’re right,” Garak relented, “we’ve played long enough. I’ve been thinking about how to progress the story in your absence and there is one slight problem.”

“Which is?”

“As I stated earlier, in the novel our characters escape through a tunnel.”

Right. “And there are no tunnels on an airship.” Julian scanned the room. “So… our options are either trying to escape when the airship lands and they open the door, risking being shot, or getting ourselves out now and trying to find a different way off.”

“I rather like the second option but there is still one problem.” Garak indicated the door. “We are in an era that predates electronic locking mechanisms.”

Julian eyed the door. “I don’t suppose you know how to lockpick that?”

“I’m afraid time-travel was outside the scope of my training in the arts of espionage.”

Julian said dryly, “Sadly, it was not a part of my medical training either.” He approached the door and crouched down to peer at the lock. “It appears simple enough, but that might actually work against us.” Ah, but, upon closer inspection… “We could try to work the mechanism free if we had something flat and thin…”

“Unfortunately, this room is devoid of any such thing.”

“Thankfully I have just come from a place that was not so empty,” Julian smugly produced one of the knife-like implements on the cabin table from his sleeve, “and I thought to take this.”

Garak smiled, in that warm and proud way that he did where it appled his cheeks. “Your cleverness never fails to impress, my dear.”

Chapter Text

Julian and Garak stole down the airship corridor, careful to be as quiet as possible and to stay alert for any guards nearby. The airship was descending, alternating between a smooth descent and jerky, worryingly unstable jolts and sudden drops.

“We need to find a door or something that we can either sneak out of or jump out of when we’re low enough,” Julian said. “And then where do we go?”

“We go to confront my assistant at my father’s company offices.”

“Am I to take that to mean the story is almost over?” Actual confrontations were usually a sign that everyone was about to get their comeuppance in these sort of stories.

“More or less,” came the requisite vague answer.

The airship shuddered and came to a stop.

“Have we landed?” Julian wondered aloud.

“Most likely we’ve been tethered to one of the buildings. As I recall, these ships didn’t land on the ground very often due to how difficult it was to get them back in the air.” Garak gathered his robes around himself and hurried forward. “Hopefully we should be low enough to the roof to steal away.”

Julian followed after him.

It turned out they weren’t too deep into the airship’s cabin. In no time, they found a door to the outside midway through an out-of-the-way side corridor. Garak surmised it was meant for servants and staff members to come and go, out of sight from the aristocracy. Julian did his little trick to get the lock open and together they judged the distance from the airship, in the process of being tethered, to the platform below.

“Not ideal, but…” Julian looked to the sides and down. “You’d think there would be a ladder or something.”

“It’s probably extended from down there,” Garak guessed.

“The distance looks to be about… five meters?” Julian judged. He was confident he saw it right. “If we land carefully we should be–” The lights flickered and the airship groaned sharply to the right, nearly throwing them not just off their feet, but out the door before they were ready.

“What was that about ‘carefully’, Doctor?” Garak couldn’t help himself.

“Right. Well, you first or shall I?”

Jadzia walked into Sisko’s office. “Benjamin.”

“Any news on the holosuite?”

“Not exactly.” She approached the desk to explain. “I checked with the Federation Holographic Authority, and on top of everything else, not only is there no record that Ffoniayd ever applied to have his new interface approved, but the data I sent brought up some concerns about how much of the brain’s functions the interface accesses.” She placed both hands on the desktop and her tone turned serious. “My contact says it looks like the program could easily be modified in a way where it’s used to trap people and extract sensitive information from their minds without them even knowing.”

“That tracks with his past charges for illegal technology and information smuggling.” Sisko grumbled. “Is that what’s been happening?” Garak wasn’t going to like that. Ffoniayd’s days were numbered.

Jadzia shook her head. “I think it’s safe to assume he was only using Quark to test the efficacy of the holographic interface.”

“Even so…” Sisko scowled. “Make sure you inform Odo, I’ll leave it to his judgement if Ffoniayd should be put in the brig or just confined to quarters.”

“I’ll go let Odo know now.”

“And I want every holosuite wiped and reprogrammed with Chief O’Brien’s oversight as soon as possible once we’ve gotten Doctor Bashir and Mr. Garak out safely.”

“Right.” Jadzia turned and left Sisko to once again wonder when Julian would be free to help him with the headache all this was causing for him.

Somehow they survived the jump off the airship and slipped into the building undetected. Whatever weird programming the holosuite was operating on most likely had engineered it that way.

“No more detours, Doctor,” Garak hurried them along to a staff stairwell. As if in agreement with that statement, the building shuddered much in the same way the airship had, sending plaster dust raining down from the ceiling. “I think we’ve played quite enough.”

“Right.” Julian nearly offered his hand again, then remembered the utter offence Garak had taken at the gesture back in the mountains and dropped it. “Mind your shoes,” was all he said.

They made it to the ground floor without incident. Either by coincidence or via more of the holosuite engineering it to save time, the place they had to go next wasn’t too far. Garak led the way down one narrow street and then another. At one point they were forced to keep quiet and barely snuck past a group of Imperial guards. Julian paused outside what he assumed was the first building despite himself, to look up and up and up at the impressive height of it, until Garak hissed for him to come inside.

They took an antique elevator, made of wrought metal like an intricately designed birdcage, to the top floor. As it slowly ascended, Garak turned to Julian and warned him, “There are either two scenarios awaiting us when we arrive at the Gwul’s office. Either it will be empty and we procure key information to unravelling the mystery, or my character’s assistant, Hojon, will be there to make his final betrayal.”

“Will we be in danger, should we find the latter scenario is the case?”

“No more than we have been this entire time.”

That was hardly comforting. Julian didn’t have much confidence that his bread-knife-turned-lockpick would be very useful as a weapon. The corner of his mouth still stung a little from where he’d been hit… he had no idea how long ago, by the guards in the mountains. The utter lack of time-awareness was really beginning to concern him. Julian’s internal clock was perfect. He could judge time down to the second normally, but something about… whatever Quark had done to the holosuite interface was preventing him from doing so. They had most certainly gone over time, but by how much was completely beyond his comprehension, never mind the question of why they still couldn’t leave.

Another thought occurred to him, “You know, Quark is probably going to try and charge us for however much time we’ve gone over.”

“Not if he wants his newest Dabo girl outfits done in a timely manner,” Garak smoothly replied.

Okay, that was at least one problem solved.

The elevator came to a stop, and the locking mechanism came free with an audible click. Garak opened the manual door to the side and made room for Julian to step out ahead of him. Together they entered the next room, a wide open, high-ceilinged office with an uninterrupted view of the cityscape. The only furnishings were a desk at the far end of the room and some stark, angular Cardassian art pieces staggered here and there. They vaguely reminded Julian of some of Ziyal’s work, though they lacked some of her softness. Julian didn’t know much about art, but he assumed that was due to her having an equal amount of Bajoran influence.

At first the room appeared devoid of anyone but them, but when Julian and Garak had reached a point roughly in the center of the room, a young-ish Cardassian man stepped from the shadow of one of the sculptures and aimed a weapon at them.

“I thought you might come here,” he stated, calling attention to himself.

“Ah,” Garak came to a stop, “there he is. Doctor, allow me to introduce Hojon. My… former assistant.”

“Former?” Hojon repeated with a scowl.

Had needling him in that way been a part of the story or was it just Garak being Garak, Julian wondered.

“Surely the weapon in your hand is a sufficient substitute for your notice of dismissal?” Garak told him.

Hojon frowned harder. “You can’t dismiss me, I know too much.”

“Oh?” Garak put on his slyest tone of voice, “And just what is it you think you know?”

“You were plotting to kill your father.”

“But can you prove that I succeeded,” Garak asked, paused, then added, “where you did not?”

“That…” Hojon faltered slightly, “doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, I rather think that it does; the timing is all off for me to have gone through with the murder. You were a competent assistant, but lack the cunning required to ensure the pieces fall into place the way they should for a proper assassination,” Garak laid it out, probably in part for Julian’s benefit, but maybe not. Also, Julian couldn’t help but side eye Garak at the term ‘proper assassination’ because that was definitely his own spin on whatever the dialogue was supposed to be here. “And that will be your downfall.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” a new voice cut in, familiar to Julian but appearing to be a surprise to Garak.

From behind them, with impeccable timing, Bijyn emerged from the elevator hall. She was still in her finery from the gala, but she also had a weapon like Hojon’s trained on them.

“Is this supposed to happen?” Julian whispered.

“Not exactly, no,” Garak admitted.

So the holosuite programming had gone off-script again. Julian turned to face Bijyn as she approached. “All things considered, I should have expected this.”

“My dear, are you saying my choice of novel was predictable?” Garak sounded mildly scandalized.

“Or we just have similar tastes?” Julian told him. The plot of this particular novel appeared to have many of the same beats as his spy fictions, come to think of it.

“Stop talking,” Hojon snapped before Garak could make a response.

“Julian,” Bijyn continued to approach them, “I take this as your answer to my proposal?”

Julian caught Garak looking at him out the corner of his eye. As if there were any question. Regardless of whether Julian’s character would or would not if given the same choice in the story, Julian Bashir the person most certainly would not. He drew himself to his full height. “I won’t betray Garak.” Had his character made the same choice in the original? That was something of a fifty-fifty, given the Cardassian novels he’d read in the past. Murder (or rather, attempted murder since it appeared Hojon had succeeded first) was one thing but treason? Going against the state? No self-respecting Cardassian novel was going to let that slide. Never mind that Julian still had absolutely no idea what his own character could possibly be guilty of. Was it simply a matter of being guilty of treason by association with Garak’s character?

“I must say,” Garak began to monologue, “I always suspected Hojon might have a true aristocratic backer. Ah yes, don’t look so surprised, I knew you were plotting against me, even before you tried to have me killed in the Hanok Mountains, you didn’t hide it very well at all.”

He just couldn’t resist getting that dig in, could he? Julian kept his eye on Bijyn, wondering what she was supposedly getting out of Hojon betraying Garak’s character.

“Is that why you decided to go to the mountains ahead of time? To throw me off?”

“Of course,” Garak lied.

“I told you,” Bijyn chided Hojon from across the room, “you were too impatient.”

“Impossible,” Hojon scoffed. “You couldn’t possibly have known.”

“And yet, here we are,” Garak made a grand illustrative gesture, arms spread wide. His talent for improv really was a thing to behold.

“Yes,” Hojon sneered, “here we are… at the end!”

Julian reacted the moment he heard the sharp metallic shnk! of the weapon going off. He shoved Garak to the side, but only just in time that the bullet missed Garak’s heart and instead struck him in the shoulder. The building shuddered like it had been shot as well, and the lights all flickered. Julian grabbed onto Garak to steady him and tried to think. They were essentially trapped there. Why didn’t they think to steal a guard’s weapon or something? Not that they really had the opportunity…

Julian really, really wished Garak wasn’t the only one who had read the book beforehand. “Now what?” he hissed. Surely Garak must know how they get out of this?

“This is the second time I’ve been shot, actually shot, in one of your holosuite endeavors…” Garak complained.

“My holosuite endeavor? This is all your book!”

“Be that as it may, I certainly wouldn’t have chosen this particular book to,” Garak made an irritable gesture with his hand, “leap into.”

“You seemed to be enjoying yourself well enough.”

“That was until I got shot,” Garak countered, “again, as I may remind you.”

“I didn’t shoot you this time!” Julian was nearly thrown off his feet as the building shuddered violently again. “I’m innocent.”

Garak scoffed. “You are many things, Doctor, but ‘innocent’…?”

“Shut up!” Hojon stalked forward to trap them between himself and Bijyn. He trained his weapon on Garak. “I don’t know what deal your little paramour has made with her,” his lip curled with distaste, “but this is where you die.”

The lights, along with the room around them flickered again, even more harshly than any of the times before. When Hojon was distracted, Julian snapped into motion. He shoved his pilfered butter knife in the muzzle of Hojon’s gun-like weapon and in the same motion bodily forced Garak into a run. Behind them, he heard the crack of an explosion and Hojon’s shout of pain when his weapon backfired.

A shot rang out, presumably from Bijyn, but it went wide when the building swayed and flickered. There didn’t appear to be any exit other than the elevator, and their would-be murderers were blocking the way. It all seemed pretty impossible. Cardassians really loved a good ‘everyone finds redemption in death’ ending.

Right when Julian began to wonder if they, their characters, whatever, whoever, were going to die here, the whole entire world around them went dark with an electric fizzing sort of noise and the black and green-y grid of a depowered holosuite came into view.

The program had been shut down. Julian was back in his uniform. Garak was back in his usual attire, through which he was still bleeding due to the malfunctioning security settings.

It was only when Miles and Rom manually forced the door to the holosuite open and shouted for them did the last rush of reality hit Julian, and hard. He dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

When Julian came to, he was in the infirmary with Nurse Jabara standing over him taking readings.

“He’s awake,” she said plainly.

Jadzia came into view. “Hey, Julian, how do you feel?” she asked.

“Fine, I guess…” Julian took stock of himself. He felt, well, mostly exhausted. “What happened?”

“You and Garak were trapped inside a holosuite simulation for over 20 hours,” Jadzia explained.

“What?!”

“You didn’t realize?”

Julian tried to think. The time seemed both longer than he’d expected but also shorter in a way. It was difficult to say. “I knew it was a long time, but the simulation did a pretty good job of messing with our internal clocks…”

“That’s about what we expected.” Jadzia nodded.

“How’s Garak?”

“Resting. You were both dehydrated and exhausted. Jabara already took care of his arm.” Jadzia poked him on the cheek. “Your busted lip, too. Was it one of your spy stories that loaded after all?”

“No, no, it was some kind of… hardboiled noir-type Cardassian period piece Garak had just loaned me.” Which called to question, “How did that even happen?”

“It’s a whole thing.” Jadzia rolled her eyes in amusement. “Quark being Quark, he had some guy install an experimental quasi-legal new interface that malfunctioned.”

“Ah,” that actually made sense. “Quark being Quark.”

“Exactly.” Jadzia straightened up. “I’m going to go let Benjamin know that you and Garak are doing okay. Also, Odo wants to know if you’d like to press charges or not.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Alright, get some rest. I’m pulling rank to relieve you of duty for the next 36 hours.” She pointed at him warningly.

“Thirty-six?!” Julian protested.

“Read a book or something.” She swiftly exited the infirmary before he could argue further.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to spend all thirty-six of those hours in the infirmary. Once Nurse Jabara was satisfied, she released both Julian and Garak to rest in their quarters. Mostly because Garak was starting to complain.

“I dare say, that is the last time I’m going anywhere near the holosuites for a long while,” Garak declared.

“I can’t help but agree,” Julian told him. “It was interesting, though, on the whole. The story, I mean. At least it wasn’t the one about the war with the Klingons.” He gave a wry shake of his head. “Come to think of it, this story really did seem more straightforward than the others you’ve given me.”

“Ah, well,” Garak explained mildly, “what makes the novel unique is how the machinations and betrayals were not the main focus.”

“What was the focus?” Julian realized who he was asking. “Never mind, I’ll read it and figure it out myself.”

Garak chuckled. They walked in companionable silence for a while. It was late in the station’s ‘day’ cycle, so the promenade was rather quiet, with most of the noise coming from either Quark’s or the Klingon restaurant. They took a lift to level 3, where it was even more quiet, practically silent. At the end of the corridor where Julian went right and Garak went left to return to their individual quarters they paused. Garak turned to Julian and almost seemed about to say something before he dropped it to instead tell Julian, “Rest well, Doctor.”

“You too.”

Garak gave him a parting nod. Julian waited until he’d gone around the curve and was hidden from view before he turned to retire to his own quarters. Once inside, he was buzzing with that type of overtired compensating sort of energy that was hard to deal with. He took a shower and thought of rock bathing next to a glowing geothermal pool. He realized he was starving and got some food from the replicator along with a large glass of water. He ate and drank while thinking of a simple breakfast of eggs and fruit. And then what?

Julian paced his quarters. He tidied up a bit. He changed into sleepwear and didn’t feel like he could sleep. Thirty-six hours of mandatory rest felt like overkill. He probably would have prescribed the same.

There was a padd next to the bed. Maybe he could read for a bit and that would calm his mind enough to sleep. And actually, he knew just the right book…

‘Unique’, Garak had called it. What could that mean? Julian retrieved the isolinear rod from the other room and transferred the book to his padd. While it loaded, he fluffed his pillows and got comfortable. “Computer, turn off all but the reading light.”

The computer complied, leaving Julian and his new novel alone in a private column of warm light. He opened the book, and began to read…

Chapter Text

Julian paced a tight circle in the hallway while he waited for Garak to answer his hail.

“Doctor!” Garak greeted him in a manner that was filled with warmth but also a shade of guardedness. “To what do I owe the pleasure? If this is a house call, I am feeling perfectly fine, and might I also remind you that your mandatory rest period has not ended yet?”

“I read the book,” Julian told him.

The corner of Garak’s mouth quirked. “Come in.”

Julian followed him inside. Garak’s quarters were virtually unchanged from any other time Julian had been there; perfectly in order. Aristocratic almost in the way that everything was neatly in place. The only change was a different arrangement of flowers on the table by the window.

Garak moved to the replicator while Julian hovered in the center of the room. “Two Tarkalean tea.” He handed one to Julian and indicated for him to sit.

Julian sat on the chaise longue that offset the center of the room.

Garak joined him at a polite distance. “What did you think?”

Julian was about to take a sip but lowered the mug instead. “What did I think?”

Garak raised his eyeridges expectantly. “I imagine you found some elements were quite different from what we… reenacted in the holosuite.”

Understatement of the century. “Garak,” Julian frowned at him, but also at how hot his face felt when he accused, “you didn’t give the slightest indication that the novel was, was,” despite the fact they were the only two people there, he still lowered his voice on, “a piece of erotic fiction.”

“My dear doctor,” Garak lifted his chin, “it was scandalous in its time, of course, but now it has become a well-respected classical epic.”

“You called it unique,” Julian accused.

“Both can be true. You must admit that the romantic focus of the plot sets it apart from the other Cardassian novels you have read,” Garak continued to play with semantics.

Julian was wholly disgruntled, which was most likely Garak’s aim. Romantic focus, indeed. From hiding in the cave to tending wounds in the kitchen to dressing for the gala to infiltrating said gala and many other scenes that had been redacted in the holosuite version, the author of Twilight Unknown had taken great care not to miss a single opportunity to…

Julian sipped his tea. “It was less unique in other areas.”

“Oh?”

“Attempted patricide was treated as grave a crime as actual patricide, for example,” Julian pointed out.

“At what point did you realize that Hojon was the result of the father’s extramarital affair?” Garak blithely allowed Julian to steer them into a discussion that treated the book no different from any of the other Cardassian novels they’d read.

“It seemed fairly obvious from the meetings prior to setting off into the Hanok Mountains. But would the child of infidelity have had any claim to the family business?” That didn’t seem to fit with what Julian knew of Cardassian culture.

“If the legitimate son were to die with no heirs, it was not unheard of. With enough time the stain on the family name could be glossed over by future generations,” Garak explained.

“Even if it were revealed the father was a traitor?”

“Any decent Cardassian aristocrat with good connections could have spun the narrative to suit their purposes and repair their reputation. The father was murdered for the good of the empire, making the son a murderer, but for noble, perfectly understandable motives.”

Actually, never mind, the whole set up fit perfectly in line with what Julian knew of Cardassian culture. “Right.”

“You don’t approve?”

“Murder is murder, if you ask me.”

Garak tilted his head to the side. “A necessary evil at times.”

Even if Julian allowed that were true, “But in this instance?”

Garak spread his hands. “I suppose that depends on the reader.”

The silence that followed was expectant. Garak was waiting for Julian to address the other themes of the novel, but Julian avoided the topic again. “And Bijyn, she was stringing Hojon along the whole time, wasn’t she?”

“For the most part, I believe so.” Garak was a patient man. Mostly. When it suited him. “Her aim was to take over the company and add to her own wealth and status.”

“That’s how I read it too…”

“Have you had breakfast, by chance?” Garak abruptly changed the subject.

“Er, no. No, I haven’t,” Julian admitted. “I came here as soon as I finished reading.”

“I thought you might have.” Garak went to the replicator, entered a preset code on the keypad above it, and returned with a platter not dissimilar from the simple fare Julian had enjoyed in the holosuite recreation, but with small scone-shaped bread buns instead of eggs. “Help yourself.”

“Thank you.” Julian took a piece of fruit and sampled it. The flavor was slightly more tart than the holo-recreation had been, and the amount of juice surprised him. He swept a drop up before it dripped down his chin with his fingers.

Garak cleared his throat. “You still have not told me if you enjoyed the novel.”

Julian blinked at him. He swallowed the fruit and followed it with more of his tea. “Oh? Well, once the surprise wore off… er, yes. Yes, I did.” Julian dropped his eyes to his mug. “You did a good job hiding the true nature of our characters’ relationship from me.”

“Yes, well,” Garak said, carefully placing his words in order. He had certainly been helped along by Julian going into it not expecting a romance. “Reading and reenacting are two very different things.”

“True…” The memory of living his character’s experiences was still fresh in his mind. Imagine if… well, he’d already imagined. Julian reached for another piece of fruit. “You were right about the open-endedness of the conclusion, by the way. Though, I hate to admit I don’t see a happy ending for them.”

“My character was a traitor and a murderer,” Garak pointed out.

“Would-be murderer,” Julian corrected him.

“Be that as it may, I believe he fully intended to follow through if given the chance. Not exactly the type set out for ‘happy endings’, was he?” Garak smirked. “The holosuite made rather appropriate casting choices, don’t you think?”

Julian processed the use of plurals there while he ate. “There’s one thing I still don’t understand.”

“What’s that?”

“What was my character guilty of?” By the end of the book, Julian still had no idea what he could have done wrong. Granted, Julian was not only thrown off by the initial shock, but also… distracted by each subsequent piece of erotica peppered into the narrative. Julian thought of the cave, the vivid descriptions of warm rocks and the water in the geothermal pool sliding over scales… the casual dominance in the kitchen where his character had been undressed under the pretense of ‘tending his wounds’… of… The writer really had lovingly painted each scene in captivating detail. It was hard not to imagine it, both on an objective level and also… less objective given the circumstances…

But as far as Julian’s understanding of the narrative went, he had never done anything wrong.

“Ah, your character was guilty of a severe crime indeed,” Garak said softly.

“Which was?”

There was something complex and unreadable in Garak’s expression when Julian looked up. It pulled Julian in with an almost heartbreaking gravity. “He was guilty of the simple crime of loving someone he shouldn’t.”

“Wha?”

“Not only someone from a wildly different class, but also a criminal… a murderer, a traitor, a doomed man who had doomed him in turn with his advances.”

Appropriate casting choices, huh? “I don’t think he cared,” Julian told him. He set his mug aside and turned to face Garak.

“He should have,” Garak stated as if it were fact.

“Do you really think so?” Julian challenged him. “I don’t.”

Garak scoffed. He avoided looking at Julian directly. Very appropriate casting choices.

All political intrigue and betrayals aside, the novel was at its core a simple romance between an older man with a dark past and a younger man from a comparatively more peaceful background. Both were drawn to the other despite their differences. The parallels were pretty clear to see. “Why did you really give me that book, Garak?”

“I simply thought that you might like it.”

“Is it the only classic ‘romantic’ epic in your library?”

“No, there are more if you care to read them.”

“I want to know why you chose this one specifically.”

“The intrigue, of course.”

“The intrigue…”

“Why do you ask?” Garak turned the question on him.

Julian reached for the platter of breakfast food. “The intrigue,” he answered, coy.

Garak stopped him with a light touch on the back of his wrist. “It’s best if you eat the fruit together with the bread…” He tore off a bit of the savory, slightly chewy sourdough-like bread and laid a piece of the tart fruit over it.

Were this one of Julian’s novels from Earth, this was the moment where Garak would feed him the morsel himself. Julian very nearly expected it. He was disappointed when Garak delicately transferred the bread and fruit to his own hand instead. But they weren’t in a novel, nor was the gesture, still as sweet, inspired by one. Their cultural wires had been crossed again. That rather muddied the waters, as it were. Julian was so sure he’d read the motivations behind Garak giving him the novel, and now he was second-guessing himself all over again.

There had been moments in the book that mirrored his hesitation as well. The characters had ostensibly been from the same culture, but the class disparity and different upbringings had put them at odds more than a few times. Julian had understood that very well, not only because he had, in a sense, lived the character’s experience, but also as a reader. He’d understood the pull towards the Gwul, the attraction, the chemistry between them had made it work. And… well, okay, some (many) of the scenes in the book had been an incredible turn-on.

There was one difference between the character and Julian, though. One that Julian intended to learn from.

“Do you…” Julian looked at Garak curiously, “think they regretted… any of it?”

The intense way that Garak met his eyes spoke volumes. “Would you have?”

Julian shifted into the space between them, stopping just short of pressing up against Garak. But he could, they could, so easily if they just made the smallest of moves. That Garak didn’t move or even lean away was a favorable sign. Normally Julian would go with a simple ‘no’ here, but normal and simple wouldn’t do. Not with Garak. “What do you think?”

Garak didn’t answer immediately. When he did break the silence, his fingertips traced lightly up Julian’s arm to pinch the loose sleeve of the casual shirt he’d thrown on before coming here. “I do hope, my dear, that you will still allow me to make some real robes of that fashion for you.”

Julian recalled the actual scene from the novel, upstairs in the big, empty house in the capital. With Garak and Julian it had been their usual back-and-forth, teasing jabs and fond sarcasm. The characters in the book had been different, more heated; the aristocrat failing terribly at having to dress another and the commoner wanting nothing more than to drag out the moment…

“I would let you craft me a full wardrobe if it so pleased you,” Julian quoted from the book.

The tension between them was like a bubble, shimmering and delicate. Garak’s hand closed over Julian’s shoulder and slid inward, following the curve where it met his neck. Julian swallowed and Garak’s thumb brushed over his adam’s apple. Cardassians maintained a lower basal body temperature than humans, so his touch was ever so slightly cool. Julian shivered. His heart was beating in his ears.

“It would please me…” Garak said, so soft and natural it perfectly blurred the lines between quoting the novel and a heartfelt real-world confession, “very much.”

Garak drew him in by the nape of his neck, and Julian met his mouth gladly. It was soft and felt equal parts sweet and daring. It was everything Julian had fooled himself into thinking he’d moved past wanting from Garak. Garak pressed his forehead to Julian’s with a faint hum of satisfaction. Julian held his face in his hands and let him rest there as long as he liked.

“You should regret it,” Garak whispered into the next kiss. “He should have. It would be so much simpler…”

“Define ‘simple’,” Julian challenged him. When had Julian gotten so lost in his game with Garak he stopped being more forward in pursuing his romantic interests? Waiting and waiting when all he had to do was ask? He got up on his knees on the chaise and looked directly at Garak. “After leaving such an impression, don’t you think the not-knowing might be its own form of torment?”

Garak pulled Julian down over him. If he closed his eyes he could imagine Julian in Cardassian finery, the layers of loose robes falling over them. He could imagine removing them one by one, taking his time to draw out his pleasure until… He quoted from the book again, “Do you mean to say the true tragedy was meeting in the first place?”

Julian, clever, dear Julian, caught on immediately. He trailed open-mouthed kisses up Garak’s ridges to whisper at his ear, “No more a tragedy than if we had never met at all.”

“My dear, you are too good for me.”

“That wasn’t in the book.”

“I’d much rather appreciate reality over fiction right now, I think.” Garak’s hands pushed under the hem of Julian’s shirt. “Let me see you.”

Julian granted the request without hesitation. He pulled the shirt over his head to toss it aside. Garak eyed where it landed like he wondered whether to be miffed or impressed. Julian gave him no time to decide, bending down to kiss him again. Garak caressed down the center of Julian’s chest, his thumb circling where his chula would be if he were a Cardassian. On Julian’s human chest it was not so far off from his heart.

Julian pulled at Garak’s collar. “You too.” Where the hell was it fastened? “Wanna see you too.” He huffed, frustrated. Of course even Garak’s casual wear was fastidious and difficult. And of course he was doing nothing to help. “Garak.”

Garak chuckled, low and almost sultry in how Julian could feel how it vibrated in his chest. With a deft twist of his fingers, Garak undid the hidden clasp at his collar and left Julian to puzzle out the rest. While Julian explored, Garak kissed and nibbled his neck at his leisure. He licked a long stripe up to exhale audibly in Julian’s ear. “Much easier than the old fashions, hm?”

Julian huffed affectionately. “Barely.”

He moved down to press his lips to Garak’s chest as it was finally, finally revealed to him. The moment he’d read of this in the book, described in loving detail, he’d wondered… tried to imagine…

Garak craned his neck back with a sigh, followed by a deep, rumbling noise like a purr. Yes, that was the sound Julian had wanted to hear.

Julian explored further, fingers tracing the intricate pattern of scales leading down Garak’s torso. He put his reading to good use, taking the opportunity to put what he learned into practice. The sound Garak uttered when his seeking fingers teased the soft scales around his ajan was another delightful discovery. Julian fingered him carefully, listening and feeling for what he liked. Garak responded in kind, mapping down his shoulders to his back and around to palm at his erection. It was a lighter touch than Julian would have expected. This was new territory for the both of them. It was thrilling, breathtaking, even, and far better than the book because it was them.

Garak’s other hand moved up to curl his fingers into Julian’s hair as he mouthed softly at his neck ridges. He turned his head to look at him, and when Julian met his eyes his breath caught in his throat at what he saw there.

“Julian,” Garak stated, soft. No more playing roles. No more literary hypotheticals.

Just them.

“Elim.” Julian ghosted over his mouth. “Take me to bed.”

Julian entered the replimat first. He’d already gotten a message that Garak was busy with ‘something’ (fussy customer? finding a new book to recommend? mysterious espionage? who knew with Garak) and would be late, so he ordered his lunch and found a table to wait. Jadzia and Kira found him first.

“Hi Julian, how are you feeling?” Jadzia greeted him.

“Rested, thank you.” It was the day after her mandated thirty-six hour rest ended.

Kira spied the empty chair opposite from him. “Waiting for Garak?”

“Mm-hm.” Julian glanced towards the door, but there was still no sign.

“You’d think after being locked in the holosuite together for that long you’d be glad for some time apart,” Kira said wryly.

Julian didn’t tell her they’d also spent most of their rest time together as well. Jadzia might have guessed from his tight-lipped and failed attempt to hide a smile. She had a twinkle in her eye as she and Kira went to get their food. They were back in no time to take the table next to him. Together the three of them chatted until Garak finally showed up.

“Terribly sorry to keep you waiting, my dear.” He sat with his tray of food and nodded to Jadzia and Kira in greeting.

“Not a problem,” Julian assured him. “Did you finish what you had to do?”

“Yes, yes, it’s all taken care of now.”

Wait. Julian recognized that tone. What had Garak been up to?

Before he could decide whether to ask now with Jadzia and Kira there or save it for later, a Bolian man he didn’t recognize approached the table. He stood there awkwardly for a moment, then cleared his throat.

“Er, Doctor Bashir and… Mr… Garak, right?”

Garak looked smug for some reason. Now Julian was sure he’d been up to something. “Yes?”

Jadzia stepped in, “Julian, Garak, this is Ffoniayd, the holosuite programmer who created the interface that, well, you know.”

“Ah.” Julian turned back to Ffoniayd, not sure what to say exactly. “I see.”

“I just wanted to offer my apologies for what happened and,” he put a hand to his chest and bowed slightly, “assure you that I will take steps to ensure that an incident like that never happens again.”

“I should certainly hope so,” Garak sniffed.

Ffoniayd cast him a nervous glance. “Yes, well, I assisted Chief O’Brien with the full holosuite reset yesterday, and will be leaving on the next transport–”

He broke off mid-sentence when Odo’s hand clamped down on his shoulder. “I don’t think so. Starfleet and representatives from several governments have requested you stay right where you are until someone can come to question you.”

“Oh…” For his part, Ffoniayd didn’t seem too terribly surprised when Odo escorted him away.

“That’s that, then,” Kira commented.

“It was pretty sketchy,” Jadzia added. “I doubt it’s going to end well for him.”

Garak serenely took a drink of his tea. “He’s unlikely to get off lightly, that’s for sure. But I dare say they’ll find a certain… lack of evidence when they go to look at the data.”

There it was. “Garak, what did you do?” Julian asked.

“I merely ensured our privacy,” Garak answered primly. “One can’t be too careful, after all.”

Julian wasn’t convinced, he was pretty sure Garak was just being petty. Jadzia and Kira looked like they agreed.

There was no more talk of holosuites or any of the like for the rest of lunch. When Jadzia and Kira finished eating, they got up to leave and Jadzia asked,

“Are you going to stay a bit longer, Julian?”

Julian was finished eating, but… “Yes, I’ll stay a bit longer.” He offered her a polite smile. “I’ll see you at the meeting later.”

“You didn’t have to stay on my account,” Garak told him once they’d left.

Julian picked up his dessert spoon to swipe some of Garak’s pudding. “But I wanted to.”

Garak pushed the dish closer to him.

“Besides, I wanted to ask you something I meant to ask earlier.” Julian helped himself to another spoonful. “I’m curious, what was your favorite scene in the novel?”

“How could one possibly choose?”