TITLE:    Diametric
AUTHOR:   Terrie H. Drummonds (TDrummonds@aol.com)
RATING:   R; profanity, and my usual dose of m/m angst.
SERIES/CODES: DS9; O'B, G/B   a sequel to "The Tangents of Or"
SUMMARY:  With Garak and Bashir's relationship out in the
          open, O'Brien finds himself under siege by the
          command staff and the station's residents because of
          Bashir's choice.
TIMELINE: Between the episodes, "Doctor Bashir, I Presume"
          and "Blaze of Glory" --specifically after "The
          Children of Time."
COMPLETED: August 10, 1998

STAR TREK: DEEP SPACE NINE and characters are the
property of Paramount Pictures, Inc. Salute! But this story is mine.
It does not intend to infringe on Paramount's copyright in any way.
Do not change or alter in any way.

Copyright 1998 by Terrie H. Drummonds
(TDrummonds@aol.com). Feedback is always welcomed.

NOTES: Flashbacks are a huge part of this story and have been
indicated by stardates. Here's a list of episodes in order and
respective stardates (if given): By Inferno's Light (50564.2), Dr.
Bashir, I Presume (no stardate), A Simple Investigation (no
stardate), Business as Usual (no stardate), Ties of Blood and Water
(50712.5), Ferengi Love Songs (no stardate), Soldiers of the
Empire (no stardate) Children of Time (50814.2)

This is #5 in the "Converse Symmetry" series: "Converse
Symmetry," "Asymmetrical," "One Man's Dying," and "The
Tangents of Or." While this story could stand on its own, it helps if
you've read the other four stories. They can be found at Heather's
"Cardassia Sutra" at http://members.tripod.com/GBLvr/contents.html

THANKS to the usual suspects when it comes to my G/B stories:>

<<<(((Stardate: 50819.4, 2000 hours, O'Brien's Quarters, Deep
Space Nine)))>>>

"You're awfully quiet."

When it came to some conversations with Keiko, being married for
over six years was a blessing and a curse. It was a blessing in the
fact that Miles didn't have to go into great detail to get a point
across. It was a curse in that he knew precisely what was prelude to
an uncomfortable question and answer session.

Keiko only used two or three phrases when she decided to broach a
delicate subject, and which one she used depended on the severity
of the situation. Ones that merited "You're awfully quiet" were
serious ones indeed. With all they had been through since their
marriage, the Gaia adventure was a walk in the park. He hadn't
been abducted or possessed or replaced or imprisoned, situations
which usually earned the "You're awfully quiet" treatment; he had
chosen to remain planet-side because he couldn't send 8,000 people
to their deaths. His wife would understand that. She knew that he
would not have made that decision without diligent consideration.

"C'mon," Keiko said as she tugged gently at his elbow and picked
up his glass of wine. "We can talk on the couch."

He automatically glanced towards the children's bedrooms to make
sure both doors were closed. It was a silly habit; Kirayoshi was far
too young but if Molly wanted to hear what was going on, she
would find a way. God knows Miles had been an expert at listening
in when he wasn't supposed to when he was her age. Anyway, it
wasn't likely she could understand what was going.

Miles supposed he could duck the entire conversation if he wanted
to. He could leave the dinner table and claim that he had to get
some report to Sisko by morning or that something needed to be
fixed right away. Keiko wouldn't protest much, just give him that
look that let him know she knew exactly what he was doing. She
was good at "giving guilt," as his mother used to call it.

He glanced over his shoulder, found her standing by the couch with
both glasses of wine, and saw the plea in her eyes. He knew that
look as well: "Please don't shut me out."

But how in the hell was he supposed to explain?

<<<(((Stardate: 50603.7, 2330 hours, Julian Bashir's Quarters,
Deep Space Nine)))>>>

After the first belt of whiskey, he should have stopped. He knew
after the second shot, it was going to be hard to resist the third and
fourth, especially the way they were being poured -- his glass never
got empty. The bottle was now poised for Number Six so he placed
his hand over the mouth of the glass and shook his head. At the rate
they were going, the next step was singing. And if he dared to come
into his quarters in that condition, he would be a dead man.

Enough was enough. Miles flipped a Gramillion sand pea in the air
and snapped it up on its way down. "Mind telling me why we're
getting drunk?"

Julian, sitting on the couch opposite the chair Miles was in, almost
spit the whiskey across the table between them. Apparently, the
question had caught him off guard. It shouldn't have, not with the
way Julian had been acting the past week. And Julian should have
known that Miles' patience only lasted so long, especially in the
privacy of the doctor's quarters after a pathetic dart game in
Quark's. Miles watched as the doctor slugged down another shot.

All this fortification for something so damned obvious.

"It's about Garak," Julian finally said.

The chief popped another sand pea.

"We're seeing each other."

The chief popped another sand pea.

"It's pretty serious."

The chief popped another sand pea.

"We're - ah - well - intimate."

The chief popped another sand pea.

Then, dead silence. Miles, reaching forward for another handful,
looked up. Julian was staring at him in disbelief. "Did you hear
what I just said?"

"Uh-huh."

"And?"

Empty-handed, Miles leaned back against the cushions. "And
what?"

"Aren't you going to say anything?"

Apparently, his nonchalance about the whole matter wasn't what
the doctor was expecting. Christ! What in the hell was he supposed
to do? Bellow that Julian was making a huge mistake? Obviously,
that was what Julian wanted. But sometimes five glasses of whiskey
enabled Miles to jump to conclusions he wouldn't have necessarily
thought of before. This was one of those times.

Miles knew exactly what Garak was up to.

The bastard.

And he wasn't about to play any sick game that son of a bitch had
cooked up.

Oh, he had known something was up between those two. Garak
had had an itch for Julian since Day One; that much was obvious.
And no matter how much Julian had annoyed the hell out of Miles
those first few years, the chief had felt some obligation, especially
after that shenanigans with Dukat and Rugal, to counter Garak's
influence and help keep Julian's nose from getting too bloodied. The
results were surprising: beneath all Julian's brassy eagerness and his
campaign for people to like him was a decent man that Miles
honestly enjoyed being around, a man who reminded him of
Stampy.

But Stampy hadn't been as stubborn as Julian. Stampy hadn't been
so blissfully naive as Julian. Stampy certainly wouldn't have
cultivated a friendship with a Cardie much less... -- God! Did he
really want to imagine what Julian and Garak had been doing for
the past six nights? Hell, no! But all this mess hadn't come about
overnight. No. It was a long time in the making. And if there was
one thing about Cardassians, they were patiently methodical. Garak
was no exception.

The whole business with the alternates, specifically the assignment
Julian had been given to find out if the alternates had given Garak
any information, had changed everything between those two.
Whatever had happened, whatever confessions had been made,
Julian had been distinctively different towards Garak since then. At
first, he acted as if he had lost his best friend. Then, he'd acted as if
he'd had his heart ripped out and trampled on. And now, this latest
scandal provided the perfect excuse for Julian to act on all those
feelings he had bottled up from when the alternates were here.

Of course Garak was going to capitalize on that. He'd use the
station rumor mill to explain everything. But Miles would be
damned if he was going to allow Garak to manipulate his friendship
with Julian by being used as the "Starfleet point of view." No. He
wasn't going to play the game like that. He wasn't going to argue.
He wasn't going to be the foundation upon which "love against all
odds" was going to be built. Romanticism wasn't a sin, but Julian
tended to take it to the extreme.

No. If Garak wanted someone to be the Starfleet patsy, that bastard
was going to have to find someone else.

He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "What do you want
me to say?"

"That what I'm doing is wrong!" Julian suddenly stood and began
pacing about the room. Angry, his voice became louder and rose in
pitch. "That this is stupid! That I've lost my mind! That this is
political suicide! That this puts my entire career in jeopardy! That
Starfleet may be willing to overlook the fact I'm enhanced but they
will certainly not tolerate the fact that I'm...." and he trailed off as
he stopped in front of Miles and glared down.

"Fucking a Cardassian?" Miles filled in.

Julian bit off the words, "It's not like that."

"Okay, so he's fucking you."

"Miles! It isn't like that at all!"

"Uh-huh."

"It *isn't*," he forcefully insisted as he stepped around the edge of
the table, back to his chair.

For the love of Christ! Julian wasn't going to back down on this.
The man wanted an argument. He wanted justification. They had
gone through this before with those damn 'Hadar soldiers. Miles
grabbed the bottle and poured himself another shot. Keiko would
have his balls for this, coming home drunk with a new baby in the
house, but it was the only thing he could think of, the only thing
that would buy him some time before he had to answer Julian..

He tossed back Number Six. Shit. What would Kira do? Would she
declare it a Starfleet security matter and toss it over to Worf? Miles
grinned to himself. That would certainly piss off Garak. That
bastard Cardie would get more than he bargained for. Worf had
already bested the Cardie once and probably wouldn't mind doing it
again.

But, no. Miles knew better. Something like that would only give
Garak more ammunition for his cause. If the son of a bitch had been
pulling strings for this long, he'd certainly have some fucked up
reasoning to explain their reactions. And Julian, being as trusting
and "in love" as he seemed to be, would follow right along with
Garak's fucked up logic.

But if they did nothing... Maybe Julian would realize just what was
going on.

Miles set the glass upside-down on the table and scooped up
another batch of the peas. This time, he didn't flick them one at a
time in the air and snap them up on their way down. He just poured
them into his mouth and munched, noting the accusatory expression
on Julian's face.

"Look," he said between chews, "you're not going to listen to me."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Just what it sounds like."

"So you don't care."

"Didn't say that, Julian. Just said you wouldn't listen." He dusted off
his hands. "I'd better be getting back. Keiko's going to kill me as it
is. Coming back like this, y'know." He stood, holding on to the
edge of the couch to steady himself. The alcohol suddenly hit his
brain. Getting back to his quarters without bumping into a wall or
slumping against one was going to be a challenge.

"That's it?" Julian had stood as well and taken a step closer to him.
"All this time you've acted like you wanted to listen, acted like a
friend... and when I tell you something important, you act as if I
just told you the Parrises Square scores!"

Miles raised an eyebrow. "A few nights ago you said that you had
to work something out. I'm guessing that this is what that was. And
you're right -- it is something *you* have to work out. It's not
about what we think, Julian. It's about what *you* think." He
poked Julian in the chest. "We can tell you this is wrong, we can
have Odo contact his sources on Cardassia and dig up a whole
bunch of shit on Garak, and we can have Starfleet security breathe
down your neck until you can't stand it anymore. Hell, Starfleet can
even pull your commission. But in the end, it's the same. We can't
make this decision for you. You already know how we feel without
even asking. You know how those people out there," he pointed
toward the door, "are going to react. You have to figure this out
for yourself. And when you're up to listening without putting a 'love
against all odds' spin on things... which may not be for a while... let
me know."

<<<(((Stardate: 50819.4, 2003 hours, O'Brien's Quarters, Deep
Space Nine)))>>>

"It's about Julian, isn't it?"

If there was one thing about Keiko, she could guess well. Ever
since being possessed by that damned pagh wraith, she seemed
more attuned to him. More aware. More observant. Perhaps it was
because she was still recovering. God knows it took Miles more
than a few months to get over his ordeal from Mab-Bu VI, when a
being had taken him over, made him threatened his wife and
daughter, and, along with two others, made him try to take over the
Enterprise. He remembered those months afterwards quite clearly --
long counseling sessions with Troi and Data as they talked about
the beings who took them over, the ones Miles had nicknamed
Slugger, Buzz and Slash.

Yes, he'd paid very close attention to everything for about six
months after that, so close that Keiko had not-so-teasingly told him
he was being paranoid.

Miles sighed as he sat down heavily on the couch. Of course he
could tell her anything. That was one of the most wonderful things
about Keiko -- she'd listen to him. There, on the couch, while the
kids were asleep, he could confess his soul and be absolved of all
his sins.

But he hadn't been the one who had been sinning now, had he?

<<<(((Stardate: 50605.0, 0745 hours, Habitat Ring Level B
Section 179, Deep Space Nine)))>>>

"Chief!"

She was furious. Miles could tell by the way her boot heels hit the
deck plates; instead of the "click-clack" of heel to toe, it was
"thunk." Several loud thunks. She had stomped down the corridor
to find him. God knows he heard enough of that particular sound
when she was living with him.

Miles had wedged himself halfway in the (see Empok Nor for tech)
which meant the only part of his body showing was his legs. It was
an obscure repair, one that really didn't need to be such a high
priority, but knowing that all hell would break loose on the
Promenade when word got out about Julian's new found love
interest, Miles had made it a point to not only work alone, but to
make sure the repair was in a remote part of the station. Away from
nosey residents. Away from "betrayed" Bajorans. Away from
disgusted Starfleet officers.

Away from Kira.

He was half-expecting her to grab him by the boot and drag him out
of the paneling, else kick him in the foot to further announce her
presence. She didn't. She just snapped, "Chief!" again; his rank
sounded like a profanity. He could play ignorant, pretending he
didn't recognize the obvious signs of her bad mood, but that only
made it worse. He should know. It hadn't worked when she was
living with them. It sure as hell wasn't going to work now.

He set down the spanner, grabbed the edge, and pulled himself
partially clear. When he looked up and met her searing brown eyes,
he knew his tactic of "hiding" had only further infuriated her. Hands
on her hips, lips pursed tightly, and feet planted in a firm stance,
Miles knew she was going to vent every micron of her anger at him.

"I thought he was your friend!"

<<<(((Stardate: 50819.4, 2005 hours, O'Brien's Quarters, Deep
Space Nine)))>>>

"It's been almost three months, Miles...."

Yeah. Three months. Three months of sheer hell. Miles stared down
at his hands in his lap. Had these people talked to Julian? Hell, no!
Like Miles, they seemed to understand that Julian wasn't going to
listen to them, that their protesting his relationship with Garak
would only further solidify Julian's determination to stay with
Garak. Yeah. Most of these people had been around Cardies long
enough and those who hadn't had consulted with the local Bajorans
to figure out just what Garak's game plan was. Everyone knew. So
instead of confronting Julian, they had focused all their attention on
Miles.

Of course Miles was resentful. He didn't deserve any of this crap.
He wasn't responsible for Bashir, now was he? But everyone had
decided he was.

Miles had put up with the whispered scuttlebutt in the corridors and
accusatory stares in Quark's. He had been the one who had to listen
to Kira's tirades about the evils of Cardassians, Garak in particular.
Miles had been the one who had overheard the vicious comments
made when people thought he couldn't hear. Miles had been the one
who had to endure the open hostility.

He had been willing to wait until Julian showed some glimmer of
rational thought about the whole Garak situation. Quark had 20 to
1 odds it wouldn't last until the next Peldor Festival. But Julian was
as stubborn as Miles when it came to certain things, love for
example. And Garak, it seemed, enjoyed this trait especially. The
Cardie bastard loved to pull little stunts just to see if he could
provoke a reaction, but the pushes were all done almost in private;
usually, it was just Garak, Julian and Miles present. He had no idea
if Garak tried these kinds of tricks with Sisko or Kira, but the tailor
seemed to relish the times when he did it to Miles.

<<<(((Stardate: 50608.8, 0810 hours, Habitat Ring Level B,
Turbolift 16, Deep Space Nine)))>>>

The turbolift doors opened, revealing Bashir and Garak in the
middle of a debate. Bashir had immediately shut up, dropping his
gaze to the floor and away. Garak smiled that smarmy grin of his,
the one that didn't quite reach his eyes but served as a warning. The
setup was perfect: the three of them, with no other witnesses in the
turbolift, just what Garak preferred. The Cardie was going to pull a
stunt, that much was clear, so Miles did what had done in the past.

The chief bade them "Good Morning" as he stepped in, gave the
computer his destination, and promptly ignored them. Garak
continued with the discussion as if he hadn't been interrupted by
Bashir's sudden lack of participation.

As turbolift slowed to a halt, Garak decided to take action. Miles
had been around long enough to know the sound of a thorough kiss
as well as the enthusiastic response. It wasn't a long kiss, but timed
perfectly to end when the doors opened. Garak immediately
stepped forward and out of the lift, turning as he exited. His grin
was particularly smug and mischievous. "Mmm." He licked his lips.
"Raspberry. Remind me to introduce you to Pagguni marmalade.
It's a Risian specialty."

<<<(((Stardate: 50819.4, 0240 hours, O'Brien's Quarters, Deep
Space Nine)))>>>

"Something's changed, hasn't it, Miles?"

Miles suddenly noticed the callous on his thumb had almost
disappeared. Damn. He'd have to start practicing his cello again
before the callous went completely away and he'd have to build it
up again. Maybe playing would help lull Kirayoshi to sleep. Too
bad he hadn't thought of that those months ago. But months ago he
had been trying to be a good friend to Julian, to wait for such a
discussion like Keiko was having with him right now, prodding him
for information he just didn't want to give out.

That whole Pagguni marmalade shtick had been galling, Garak
thumbing his nose to prove he and Julian had quite a relationship.
God knows, Julian had acted like he was in love. Miles would have
had to been deaf not to hear the sound that Julian had made when
Garak had kissed him in that turbolift. Miles would have had to
been blind not to notice the little bounce in Julian's steps as they
made their way to the wardroom for the briefing.

But for all Garak's stunts, the tailor seemed genuine in his
affections. And at the time, Julian had seemed committed and
earnest about his.

The only thing Miles had done was.... Well... it hadn't exactly been
a threat....

<<<(((Stardate: 50609.3, 2112 hours, Promenade, Deep Space
Nine)))>>>

Garak had just finished keying in the final sequence of the security
code for his shop when he turned. It had been a late evening, three
hours past the tailor's normal closing time, but Miles had waited
patiently until the Cardie had exited his shop. If it hadn't been for
the Promenade's poor acoustics, Miles doubted he could have come
upon Garak so quietly; there was a flash of pure surprise in those
cold blue eyes.

The Promenade was practically deserted at this hour; Miles
wouldn't have done this if there were more than a few people
milling about, a few people who didn't seem to care that the
Starfleet officer "in charge" of Julian's well being and the
Cardassian exile "attending to" Julian's being were about to face off.

Oh, Miles knew that the Cardie would come up with some clever
quip, something truly insulting yet somehow sounded like a
compliment. Garak's weapon was his words and it was something
Miles wasn't about open himself up for. Not here. Not now. Not
with what was at stake. The only way he could get through to
Garak was by a bit of intimidation.

It was how Cardies operated. Miles knew.

There were no words, just hard hazel eyes staring into ice blue.
Miles had schooled his features into a perfect poker face, the same
one he'd used to beat Riker on several occasions, and let his eyes
convey everything he wasn't about to say aloud.

Miles just stood there, silent.

Sure, he was trying to intimidate Garak and he knew it took a lot
more than a middle-aged, paunchy Starfleet engineer to achieve
such an emotional reaction from such a ruthless Cardie.

But it wasn't strictly about intimidation.

It was about Julian.

The person whom Miles often treated like a younger sibling. The
person whom Miles was particularly protective of. The person
whom Miles thought had lost his mind by entertaining the affections
of a Cardassian. Garak probably had expected Miles to barge into
his shop and threaten certain portions of his anatomy like the Major
had done as a warning to Garak not to court Ziyal. Miles wasn't
playing the role of menacing older brother in that he was shouting
insults and leading a lynch mob across the Promenade. He doubted
the tailor had expected this silent staring.

But it was something the Cardie could understand. Hell, it was
something the Cardie would probably respect more.

The chief waited until the comprehension dawned in the Cardie's
eyes. Garak even went so far as to nod slightly.

Then, just as suddenly as Miles had appeared, he brushed by the
tailor, eyes never leaving the Cardassian's as he passed, and
continued on his way to Quark's.

<<<(((Stardate: 50819.4, 2007 hours, O'Brien's Quarters, Deep
Space Nine)))>>>

"You need to talk about it, Miles. All this silence... it isn't going to
help."

Keiko was right. She usually was in matters like these. God knows,
the woman had dealt with her fair share of bizarre things during the
past six years. It wasn't fair, he knew, to make her carry the whole
conversation, to make her turn this into an interrogation, but she
knew it was probably the only way he'd ever talk about it.

Ply him with enough guilt and he'd sell his soul.

But it was such a rag-tag mess, he had no clue where to start.
While the obvious response was "at the beginning," such a tactic
was impossible when it came to Julian and Garak. "Beginning" was
such a relative term. The beginning of what? Garak's interest in
Julian? Julian's interest in Garak? Their romantic interest in each
other? The reaction of the rest of the station? Garak's little pokes?

Since the night Julian had "confessed" his relationship with Garak,
Miles had sworn to himself that he wouldn't play along with
whatever little game Garak was playing. It was the main reason he
hadn't actually talked to Garak when he delivered his "message" to
the Cardie. The lines had been drawn, the boundaries had been set,
and Garak had been told that if certain lines were crossed, all the
Cardie tricks in the quadrant weren't going to save the tailor from a
pissed off Irishman.

But in those three months, Julian had never wavered in his
allegiance to Garak. Julian had never backed down in declaring his
"affection" for Garak, and had never apologized for any of his
behavior aside from lying about his genetic enhancements. The
doctor had not forced Garak and Miles to socialize with each other
and had never requested one of those godawful "let's all have dinner
together" evenings like Data had done when the commander had
briefly dated Jenna D'Sora.

But after that last mission....

<<<(((Stardate: 50814.5, 2230 hours, Gaia)))>>>

Damn Dax and her infernal curiosity. Investigate an anomaly
indeed! Christ, didn't she know by now that every time they did
that, something bad inevitably happened, especially when they were
in the Gamma Quadrant? So here they were, on this infernal planet
full of their descendants, and stuck with the choice of recreating the
accident that caused this in the first place or escaping while they
still had a chance and killing all these people.

There were others on board the Defiant who wanted to go home,
who believed as he did that this whole Gaia situation was a mistake
that should not have happened. They didn't want to "get to know"
the inhabitants on the planet, didn't want to see the progress that
had been made, and didn't want to feel the guilt of sending 8,000
people to their death.

Why did he feel as if he was the only one on the command staff
seriously arguing for returning to the station? Even Julian's
contention that they had to return to save Kira's life sounded half-
hearted. For a man supposedly in love, a man who had gone against
public opinion to be *in* love, a man who had risked his career
*for* love, Julian seemed too ready to toss it all in the reclamation
chute.

<Now who's living by 'love at all costs' standards?> Miles berated
himself. But still, after all the crap he'd put up with in the last few
months, he was tired of it. It just wasn't fair. All that tolerance for...
for what?

Miles found himself wondering if Julian's true feeling for Garak was
love or a simple case of lust.

After all, this morning Julian had prattled endlessly about the
legions of Bashirs on the planet and had even gone so far as to blurt
out that he would "look up" Ensign Kirby when they got back to
the station. Was Julian just trying to annoy him? Or was it a true
indication of the state of Julian's relationship with Garak? Had the
time away from the station, away from Garak's domineering
influence, caused Julian to "come to his senses"?

Miles rubbed the bridge of his nose.

He was supposed to be happy that Julian was interested in someone
else besides Garak, wasn't he? That was what everyone wanted,
right? That was what was supposed to be "for the best," right? That
Julian wouldn't be in the clutches of that evil Cardie?

Miles took a sip of coffee. It tasted bitter despite the fact he had
ordered it double sweet. Was he really that heartless to want to be
with his family? Didn't they understand the only thing that got him
out of bed some mornings was knowing that he had them? That
Keiko, Molly and Yoshi were the only stability to his chaotic life,
that they provided some sense of normalcy when the bizarre Fate of
Starfleet struck?

He kicked at the dirt as he leaned against the stone pillar. He could
hear the laughter and the music, the shouts of "Bravo!" as
musicians completed a tune. The feast was in full swing. After two
centuries, the Sisko clan still had a talent for cooking, the Bashirs
still had a habit of being annoyingly garrulous, and the O'Briens
were downright cheerful, the complete opposite of Miles' current
mood. He didn't want to be part of it at all, and although he wasn't
usually the type to adhere to strict social protocols (it was one of
the reasons, after all, he had opted to be a non-com), the manners
his mother had taught him as a boy dictated he at least make an
appearance. These people, in whatever odd way, were still family. It
didn't mean he had to like it. It didn't mean he had to stay long. It
just meant that he had to show up.

"There you are, chief," Julian called as he breezed out of the main
dining hall toward him. Miles just nodded as he took another
swallow of coffee. "They're just about to serve dessert."

"I'll take a pass," the chief replied. "I've got to be getting back to
the Defiant. The level two diagnostic came up with a few glitches."

There was a slight pause, as if Julian was debating whether or not
to bring up something."Look, chief... Miles... I know you don't
want to get to know these people. You're not the only one. But...
what harm could it do?" When the chief didn't respond, Julian took
a step closer. "I know this is difficult. I know how much Keiko and
kids mean to you."

It was the wrong thing to say. Absolutely the wrong thing to say.
And in that split second where reasoning argued with emotion,
emotion won out.

What the hell would Bashir know about what he was going
through? Just because he talked Miles out of blowing his head off,
he felt he understood the way Miles thought? Didn't he know it was
supposed to be "Julian and Miles" in situations like this? Julian
loved Garak. Miles loved Keiko. And they would do their damndest
to get home. It was as simple as that.

But no. Julian was shallow, remarkably shallow if he were willing to
throw away his relationship with Garak just because in some bizarre
timeline, he ended up with Angie Kirby and started a family.

The man standing next to Miles, claiming he understood, couldn't
possibly comprehend what Miles was feeling. Julian was in lust, not
love, and there was a definite difference.

Miles glanced sideways, his voice as bitter as the coffee. "No,
Julian. You don't. And honestly, I don't think you're capable of
understanding."

And he walked away.

<<<(((Stardate: 50819.4, 2010 hours, O'Brien's Quarters, Deep
Space Nine)))>>>

"Is it about Julian and Garak?"

Miles knew eventually that Keiko would bring up the tailor's name.
After all, to mention one without the other was something unheard
of during these past few months. He sighed, ran a hand through his
hair, and then leaned forward until his forearms were resting on his
knees.

In the end, on Gaia, he had chosen to stay. He walked right up to
Sisko and told him that they couldn't leave, that they couldn't let
these people die. The others who had been on his side, who had
wanted to go back to DS9 and be with their families, had agreed as
well, but like Miles, it had taken being forced to work side by side
with these people, getting to *know* them like Julian had
suggested the night before, to make his decision.

But Julian had made his choice in the first five seconds of meeting
his great, great whatever grandchild.

What happened to the man who had counseled Miles about making
Keiko happy, about how Keiko needed a career not a hobby, about
the delicate art of winning an apology by using romanticism? The
man who had given valuable advice could not have been the same
person who had declared he would "look up" Ensign Kirby when
they got back to the station, even if it was made in jest.

The entire trip back from Gaia, O'Brien had secluded himself from
the rest of the crew. He didn't want to "overhear" people's opinions
of Bashir's behavior because he knew that was precisely what
people wanted.

Miles vividly remembered the accusatory looks he had received
when the ship broke free; they thought he had overridden the
systems in order to get back home. They immediately thought he
was responsible for the gruesome execution (there really was no
other word for it) of those people. The 200-year-old Odo had been
the one to blame, not him. Even with his name cleared, he still
received looks by those who had thought he had been wrong to
argue to leave, that they should have stayed and should have done
all those wonderfully heroic things that all heroes did.

But he didn't regret Odo's decision. He understood. Love was a
powerful thing.

When his bridge-shift had ended just six hours after the tragedy,
Miles had gone back to his cramped quarters, taken his medication,
and sat on his bunk instead of going to the mess hall. He hadn't
been hungry, a side-effect from the anti-depressants, but he also had
admitted to himself he wasn't up to the stares and the whispers. He
had had enough of them in the past three months and he was
damned sick of it.

He knew he had brought it upon himself. At first, it was because he
refused to get caught up in all that Eugenic paranoia that had
kicked up when Julian's not-so-little secret was revealed. Miles
believed himself to be a good judge of character and Julian was a
good man. Flawed, confused, and sometimes downright annoying,
but still at heart a good person. Period.

He didn't care that Julian was genetically enhanced. To him, it didn't
matter, just like it didn't matter that Commander Data was an
android. Data was proof positive that it was what one *did* with
one's abilities, not that one had them, was what mattered. Lore's
psychotic antics only proved the point further. Maybe if Miles
hadn't spent six years working with Data he would feel differently,
that he would be terrified or worried that Julian was going to turn
into some power-crazed madman.

But when coupled with the fact Julian had leapt into Garak's bed....
Miles rubbed his eyes. There was a breaking point for everything.
But still, he tried his best to be a proper man about the whole thing,
to abide by IDIC and all that. He had accepted Julian's relationship
with Garak just as he had suffered through Data's disastrous fling
with D'Sora.

Miles had done the only thing he could have really done: he'd given
Garak the message that he wouldn't tolerate Julian being mistreated
in any way, shape or form, and Garak had respected that. But it was
all done wordlessly. Without ever actually having a conversation,
Miles and Garak had set down rules and abided by them. And if
Garak wasn't serious about Bashir, he wouldn't have "agreed" to
and complied with those unspoken boundaries.

So why had Julian acted as if his relationship with Garak, that oh so
"serious" relationship with that damned Cardie, was purely casual?
Odo had sacrificed those people on Gaia in order to save Nerys.
There was no mistaking that it had been an act of love. Miles had
been willing to sacrifice those people on Gaia so he could return to
his family, another act of love. But in the one shining moment
where Julian could have effortlessly proved that he was serious
about Garak, the one time that the doubts could be silenced by a
profound conviction, Julian had yammered on about Ensign Kirby
and "looking her up," gushing on and on about his descendants.
Sure, Miles supposed there was some legitimacy in Julian's
enthusiasm of seeing an alternate time line played out, but given his
romantic situation....

Had Julian's shallowness in intimate relationships been a by-product
of a rocky childhood or a defense mechanism borne from that
"terrible secret" of his? Or was he just a callous, insufferable little
prick who had been stringing Garak along?

There was only one thing deadlier than a pissed off Irishman with
over twenty years of Starfleet engineering, combat and security
training: a humiliated Cardassian who just happened to be a former
operative of the Obsidian Order.

<<<(((Stardate: 50819.1, 1650 hours, Quark's Bar, Deep Space
Nine)))>>>

The upgrade of Cargo Bay Four's transporter had gone by the
book. In one of the rare instances that the Cardie equipment
actually decided to cooperate with him the first time, the work had
taken 45 minutes less to complete than he had originally scheduled.
Of course, whenever something odd like that happened, Miles
rechecked every system at least three times before finally leaving.

He was still 10 minutes early for his dart game with Julian. Despite
his anger and frustration, he had felt some obligation to keep
appearances up. If nothing else, it helped him judge how the rest of
the station was adjusting to everything that had happened. Plus, he
could harmlessly hurl pointy objects at a cork board that he could
imagine to be anyone. Childish. Vicious. Downright sadistic and
primeval, but it was a great stress reliever.

Yet the moment Miles walked into the bar, he sensed the set-up.
Quark flagged him down as he passed Morn's stool, nervousness
clear in the way he was serving up drinks. The bartender didn't say
a thing, but handed him a synthale without Miles even asking him
for one. And as the chief nodded his thanks, he turned away from
the bar.

Miles didn't know what tipped him off first: the clumps of patrons
who just happened to be those who despised Garak the most or the
fact that Ensign Kirby, a petite blonde with a page-boy haircut,
button nose, freckles, rosy cheeks, and wide-eyes full of innocence,
wonderment, and anticipation, was standing at the corner end of the
bar closest to the dart board. To Kirby's left was Crewmen Jim
Salze, who had lost two brothers in the Cardassian-Federation War.
To Kirby's right was Corporal Ahlre Fyali, who had been a part of
the Bajoran Resistance and had also lost two of her brothers to the
Cardassians.

The entire scene clicked in, full force.

Whether or not his early arrival was part of the plan, Miles honestly
didn't want to know, but judging from the grin Salze flashed, the
chief knew that it was going to be ugly.

Very ugly.

And whether or not the newly transferred Ensign Kirby had an
inkling of what was about to happen or that she was being used or
that Julian was involved with Garak didn't matter much either.

Mobs tended to get their way no matter what the price. They had
obviously decided Julian's gushing about Kirby had been a call for
help and that Miles hadn't done enough to "rescue" the doctor from
the clutches of the evil Cardie. It was their turn.

There wouldn't be a fight. They wouldn't gang up on Garak and
beat the Cardie to death. No. They'd exact their revenge Cardie
style: humiliation. After all, they couldn't be arrested, couldn't be
written up, for orchestrating this scheme.

But what made Miles the angriest was not the fact that Julian and
Garak were being set up -- surely someone had issued an invitation
to the Cardie so he could "witness" the whole Bashir-Kirby
exchange -- but that *he* had been put squarely in the middle of
this whole mess.

It wasn't only to humiliate Garak, but to find out just which side of
the fence Miles was standing on. Not only were they tired of Julian
and Garak being together, they were tired of Miles' ambiguousness
about the entire situation.

He hadn't played the game with Garak. He wasn't going to play the
game with these people.

"Tekoa to Chief O'Brien. Sorry to bother you, chief, but the entire
sensor grid in Section 174 has gone down again."

He tapped his commbadge. "On my way."

Fate, it seemed, had decided to spare him this little waltz.

<<<(((Stardate: 50819.4, 2051 hours, O'Brien's Quarters, Deep
Space Nine)))>>>

"You... you didn't do anything?" Keiko sounded somewhere
between mystified and horrified. He felt her shift on the couch, her
feet sliding out from beneath her and settling on the floor.

Hunched over, he cradled his head in his hands and briefly
massaged his temples. He'd told her the whole story, starting with
Julian's mission after the alternates had left last year and ending
with what had transpired that evening in the bar. "What could I
have done, Keiko?"

"You could have warned Julian!"

So much for the rethorical question.

"Keiko, these people are determined. If it didn't happen today, it
was going to happen tomorrow or whenever they gott the chance
until they got to do it. No matter what I said or did, I couldn't have
stopped what was happening. The damage had already been done.
Julian did it to himself and he did it to Garak."

Miles finally met her gaze.

And in that moment, she understood.

"I don't like Garak. Never have. Doubt I ever will. But during this
whole new thing with Julian, he's... he's... Christ!" He couldn't bring
himself to say it aloud, even to Keiko. No. He had to. He'd never
get over it unless he did. At least that's what Troi and Tellari had
said repeatedly. "Ever since Julian first had lunch with his spy,
Garak has been on one side and I've been on the other. Julian's
always been in the middle.

"I don't know what makes me angrier -- that people have put me in
the middle in the battle for Julian or that... that now... that now I'm
on Garak's side. Not because I like him. Not because I trust him.
Not because Julian asked me. Not because I've been manipulated by
Garak. But because it is the *right* thing to do, because he doesn't
deserve to be treated like that."

<<<(((Stardate: 50819.1, 1653 hours, Promenade, Deep Space
Nine)))>>>

After handing his ale to Amaro, Miles suddenly found Julian in
front of him.

"I overheard the maintenance call," the doctor said sympathetically.
"I'm sure our game could wait a few hours."

"Actually," Miles said slowly, hoping that Julian would pick up on
the tenseness in the bar and leave, that his genetically enhances
senses would warn him to get out of danger. But long ago Miles
had realized that Julian was more book smart than anything else,
that something like this would probably completely escape the
doctor's notice until it was too late. "Another night would be better.
Keiko's expecting me at 1850 hours for dinner."

Julian only shrugged and then glanced over Miles' shoulder in
Kirby's direction. A small smile tugged at the doctor's lips.
"Tomorrow, perhaps?"

"Yeah." Why was Julian playing into their hand? "Whatever." Why
was Julian doing this? "I'll see you later."

And as Miles walked out of the bar, he passed Garak as the tailor
entered.

Just one look. One simple look. One made in passing. One of
embarrassed empathy. One of apology.

It was all he could do.

<<<(((Finis)))>>>