Path: news.inforamp.net!news2.toronto.istar.net!news3.ottawa.istar.net!istar.net!newsjunkie.ans.net!newsfeeds.ans.net!howland.reston.ans.net!newsfeed.internetmci.com!news.wwa.com!buffnet2.buffnet.net!usenet From: Lynda Simhomer Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Subject: NEW: "Garak's Friend: the Sequel" (1/6) Date: 2 May 1996 03:50:09 GMT Organization: BuffNET Lines: 163 Message-ID: <4m9bdh$7g6@buffnet2.buffnet.net> NNTP-Posting-Host: fppp26.buffnet.net Mime-Version: 1.0 X-Mailer: Mozilla 1.22 (Windows; I; 32bit) Status: N "Garak's Friend: the Sequel" by simhomer@buffnet.net (Lynda Simhomer) Synopsis: This story is the sequel to "Garak's Friend". "GF2" leans *heavily* upon Jennifer Hillger's "Anything for a Friend". If you haven't read either of the above stories, I'd suggest you do so before reading this one. All characters are the property of Paramount, except for the ones that are mine. The story "Anything for a Friend" is the property of Jennifer Hillger. Used by permission. :) FEEDBACK! FEEDBACK! FEEDBACK! is *always* welcome. :) Post or e-mail to "simhomer@buffnet.net" Enjoy, Lynda :) Part One: Doctor Bashir stared at the ice in his glass. There was no denying it. She had dropped a bombshell, and he hadn't seen it coming. But who would have? She hadn't given him any hint of her inclination. To the best of his knowledge, everything had been wonderful. Until today. *Admit it, Julian. She probably tried to tell you a hundred times. You were just too self-absorbed to listen.* He heaved a sigh. His emotional state was teetering between numbness, anger and despair, and there wasn't a thing he could do about it. *You frightened her off. You must have moved too fast again. When will you ever learn?* Fast. He snickered silently. That was a joke. It had taken years to build their friendship to the point of intimacy. There had been nothing abrupt about it. Nothing. Except the ending. Maybe he should have stayed in his quarters tonight. What ever was he doing in this noisy bar? Bashir dropped his chin onto his palm and shifted his stare to his companion. Miles O'Brien. He knew that O'Brien meant well. Time in the holosuite, his friend had said. Just the cure for a broken heart. Reluctantly, Bashir had agreed. It wouldn't help to spend the evening alone. So together, they'd faced the fierce battle and won. And now, with their holosuite victory behind them, they celebrated before heading their separate ways. O'Brien would return to the warmth of his wife and daughter. And Bashir, he looked forward to the silent emptiness of his quarters... with no Jadzia Dax. Suddenly, O'Brien spoke. "Up for a game of darts before we go?" *Nice try, Miles.* He appreciated the gesture, but his emotional turmoil had left him exhausted. "Not tonight. I think I'll turn in. Busy day tomorrow." O'Brien finished his drink. "Suit yourself." The words were accompanied by a sympathetic nod. Bashir afforded his friend a brief smile. Then he left his drink on the table and they headed for the door. At that moment, Dax entered the bar, playfully taunting her companion. "...don't count on it this time. Maybe you should quit while you're ahead." Bashir recognized the glint in her eye and his stomach knotted. The approaching couple noticed him. Dax smiled. He managed an unconvincing grin. "Hello, Jadzia." "Julian." The sound of her voice and the tenderness in her gaze were too much for him. Unable to speak, Bashir cleared his throat and focused on the bat'leth in her hand. Dax's partner spoke up. "Dr. Bashir. Chief O'Brien." There was no hint of awkwardness to Worf's greeting, and Bashir felt his ears begin to burn. *The least you could do is pretend to feel uncomfortable.* O'Brien greeted the two officers and mentioned something about running late. Bashir breathed in relief as they exited Quark's. "I owe you." His friend waved it off. "Forget it. You're in no condition to be returning favors anyway." * * * * * * Jadzia Dax bounded from the turbolift with an exceptionally gay spring in her stride. "Good morning, everyone!" She stopped to speak over Worf's shoulder. "And how are you today?" "I still cannot accept your version of the story," he replied tersely. Then he turned to her and his face relaxed into a smile. "But I'm doing well. Thank you." Dax's eyes twinkled. "Klingon legends aren't always what they're cracked up to be, Worf," she said, lowering her voice. "Especially the ones that involve Curzon." Worf watched her take her post. Major Kira observed the exchange and the Klingon's lingering stare. She approached Dax's station. "So?" Dax understood the meaning behind her friend's confidential inquiry. Keeping her attention fixed on the console, she responded, "So, Worf and I are friends." Kira glanced at Worf. "Julian doesn't think so." "I know. I feel terrible. How could I do this to him? I didn't give him any warning." "Well, it was pretty unexpected," Kira admitted. Her eyes began to cloud. "I simply couldn't treat him so unfairly any longer." "What do you mean?" Dax returned her gaze to the console, not wanting Kira to see the tears forming in her eyes. "The circumstances that brought us together were traumatic. And I was feeling very... vulnerable." Kira sensed the reluctance with which Dax spoke the word, and she placed a hand on her shoulder. "I understand." Dax managed to smile at her. "I knew you would, Nerys." The corners of her mouth dropped. "When I finally recognized the gratitude that pushed me to choose Julian over Worf, I had to end it." "You and Worf are more than friends, aren't you?" Dax silently affirmed this. "That was pretty 'unexpected' as well. Nothing has happened... yet. But I'm certain Julian and I are through, and I feel awful. How could I do this to him?" "Like you said, there were extenuating circumstances." "Maybe," Dax sighed. "But that doesn't make it any easier on Julian." * * * * * * "Are you serious, Doctor?" Bashir gazed across the table at the stunned Cardassian. "You're a spy, aren't you?" Garak didn't respond immediately. As much as he enjoyed their lunches, he wished he had passed on this one. He could tell the doctor was genuinely distressed, but there was no way he could grant such a request. "I'm not certain if I can help you, but it is possible Quark already has the holosuites wired." A glimmer of hope lit Bashir's eyes. "He does?" The tailor shook his head and Bashir's face fell. The doctor was definitely not himself today. Garak pitied him, but could offer little in the way of consolation. His profession with the Order had taught him that it was best to maintained a detachment in relationships. No love - no regrets. Of course, this advice wouldn't help the doctor at the moment. Garak smiled. "I promise, Doctor, if any information should happen my way, you'll be the first to know." "I appreciate that." Bashir's face reddened as he focused on his untouched lunch. He was going to have to pull himself together; he'd *never* handled a break-up this badly. But then, he'd never been so thoroughly and deliberately pierced through the heart before. The thought of Jadzia sneaking around with Worf made-- Garak gasped and lurched forward. Bashir looked up. A petite Cardassian woman was withdrawing a knife from the tailor's back and wiping it across her shirt. She hastily placed an arm around Garak and addressed the stupefied doctor. "Perhaps you should tell security to meet us in sick bay." Bashir shook himself and signaled for an emergency transport. Garak turned to the woman. "Malada. What an unexpected pleasure." With that, the three dematerialized. (end of Part One) simhomer@buffnet.net (Lynda Simhomer)