*       *       *       *
SIGH NO MORE. 
By The Plaid Adder. 

All rights reserved except for the ones Paramount owns already.  Adapted from 
"Much Ado About Nothing" by William Shakespeare, who was born too early to 
reap the benefits of copyright law and therefore has no legal recourse. Heh heh.
*       *       *       *
 
ACT I
 
(The scene is Quark's. DAX and SISKO are sitting at one table having a 
working lunch, GARAK and BASHIR at another. KIRA enters and walks very 
quickly toward SISKO)

SISKO: Good afternoon, Major. (She leans over the table confrontationally)

KIRA: Why is it that every time I turn around there's another shipload of 
Cardassians crawling the Promenade?

SISKO: Very well, thank you. And you?

KIRA: This is still a Bajoran station, so far as I know, unless it was sold to 
Cardassia as a tourist resort and someone forgot to brief me.

SISKO: Major--

KIRA: Especially considering the traffic we're about to get for the
Greenwood Songfest I would think you might want to at least reschedule--

SISKO: Major. (KIRA stops) The Bajoran government has organized an 
academic exchange with Cardassia. A team of Bajoran archaeologists is on its 
way to Cardassia to excavate the recently discovered crash site--

KIRA: Oh, right, "recently" discovered.

SISKO: --and a team of Cardassian historians is coming here to study the late 
Cardassian empire. They're academics, Major. They're harmless.

KIRA: They'd just better not try studying me. (Tromps off in a huff)

SISKO: Was it something I said?

DAX: The Songfest starts in a few days.

SISKO: But I thought the Songfest was supposed to make people happy.

DAX: yes, but that's because it's traditionally a lovers' festival.

SISKO: Ah. Bareil.

DAX: Plus, Kai Wynn is officiating.

SISKO: Oh *dear.* 

(The camera pans to GARAK and BASHIR's table, where they are engaged in a 
heated and gesticulating discussion.)

GARAK: No. No more Terran novels.  I refuse.

BASHIR: You cannot reject an entire genre on the basis of *Pride and 
Prejudice.*

GARAK: My dear Doctor, I would never dream of generalizing from such a 
small sample. Since we last spoke I have been through *Wuthering Heights,*
*Tess of the D'Urbervilles,* and *The Golden Bowl,* and I have come to the 
inescapable conclusion that the Terran narrative holds no interest for me.

BASHIR: Now I know you're lying. You can't possibly have read all that in two 
weeks.

GARAK: My reading skills are highly disciplined.

BASHIR: Your Obsidian Order training?

GARAK: (laughs) Not exactly. You've clearly never visited a Cardassian 
primary school.

BASHIR: I'm sure they're very efficient.

GARAK: A literate empire is a healthy empire. But I simply cannot get 
interested in a literary form in which the only issue of any importance is whether 
or not two people marry each other. It amazes me that a plot so banal can still 
fascinate you after all this time.

BASHIR: Garak, love is one of the most profound mysteries of the human 
psyche. After six hundred years we haven't even scratched the surface.  That's 
what's so intriguing!

GARAK: You find this intriguing? This self-indulgent whining over whether the 
hero finds his soulmate or whether the heroine has to marry someone she likes 
slightly less well than someone else? It's fatuous! The authors make no attempt 
to convince the reader that this romance will have any impact on the state--

BASHIR: What has the state got to do with it?

GARAK: Everything! If it's not going to affect the state, how can it possibly 
affect me? Whether someone is happy or unhappy is immaterial unless the 
community as a whole is changed by it. That's what real fiction is about.

BASHIR: Garak—

(back to the table with SISKO and DAX)

SISKO: I see they're at it again.

DAX: Julian has been trying to get him interested in Victorian novels. I told him 
he'd have better luck with Thomas Pynchon or John LeCarre—even 
Dostoyevski, but you can't tell him anything when it comes to Garak. 

(From across the room:)

BASHIR: But it *is* relevant! What could be more relevant than trying to 
understand the workings of the human heart?

GARAK: Doctor! I'm surprised that after all this time you haven't figured them 
out. I have.

BASHIR: Enlighten me.

GARAK: The human heart is a four-chambered organ whose main function is 
the circulation of—

(BASHIR groans. Back to DAX and SISKO)

DAX: All I want to know is when one of them is going to make the move.

(O'BRIEN enters and get a cup of coffee from the bar)

SISKO: Move to where? 

(O'BRIEN approaches the table and sits)

DAX: The big one. From platonic to passionate.

O'BRIEN: What's all this now?

SISKO: Dax was just saying she's waiting for Garak and the doctor to--

DAX: Get physical.

O'BRIEN: Ah, God, the sooner the better. If I have to play one more game of 
midnight darts--

DAX: I always thought the darts were for you, Chief.

O'BRIEN: No, the racquetball is for me. The darts are for him. Three times a 
week, at least, he's outside my door in the wee hours with a handful of pointy 
objects wanting to go down to Quark's and try for the bull's eye.  Now, I'm no 
Freudian, but if you ask me...

SISKO: So you really think they'll get together.

O'BRIEN: They'll talk each other to death first.

DAX: I'm afraid you're right. Julian's a good doctor but when it comes to his 
own chemistry he really doesn't understand much.

SISKO: So the move will never be made. Unless...

DAX: Unless what, Benjamin?

SISKO: Well, the Songfest is coming upon us. What more appropriate time to 
give a pair of lovers a little...help? 

(SISKO grins. DAX and O'BRIEN look over at BASHIR and GARAK, then 
back at SISKO, then all laugh conspiratorially. ODO approaches)

ODO: Is there a reason you're all cackling like Ferengi at an estate auction, or is 
this just one of those humanoid things I'll never understand?

(Back to BASHIR and GARAK)

GARAK: All I can tell you is that I find the entire subject thoroughly 
uninteresting.

BASHIR: Oh, please. I don't believe that for a moment.

GARAK: Well, Doctor, you tell me. You're thirty and you obviously haven't met 
your one true love--do *you* feel as if you've been denied the highest form of 
existence?

BASHIR: Well, I--

GARAK: Correct me if I'm wrong, but you seem to be in no hurry to enter
this state of nuptial bliss yourself.
ASHIR: Oh good Lord no.

GARAK: In fact, just mentioning it seems to throw you into a veritable
tizzy. (BASHIR pushes his chair out and throws his napkin on the table)
What's the matter? Have I spoiled your digestion?

BASHIR: On the contrary. I've just remembered I'm expecting an important
communique from my sister.

GARAK: Your sister! Why Doctor! This is almost worth slogging through Jane
Austen. In all this time I don't believe I've ever heard you admit to having
a family. I thought until now you'd been found growing in the wild. 

(They
both rise and walk out together. Back to Sisko's table)

SISKO: So I can count on you, then?

DAX: I wouldn't miss it. It's about time poor Julian raised his standards.
Did you see that Dabo bimbo he was hitting on the other night?

SISKO: What about you, Chief?

O'BRIEN: If it'll keep him out of my hair I'm up for anything.

SISKO: Odo?

ODO: I'd prefer not to be involved. I don't know much about what you call
love but I don't think even Garak deserves Dr. Bashir. And frankly,
Commander, I'm surprised to see you organizing something so due platypus.

(SISKO blinks. DAX and O'BRIEN both look at ODO)

SISKO: I beg your pardon?

ODO: I merely said that your plan is a little too duplicitous for me to--

SISKO: Oh, *duplicitous.* I thought you said...due platypus.

ODO: I don't think I did, Commander.

DAX: No, I heard platypus too, Constable.

ODO: Platypus?

SISKO: Chief?

O'BRIEN: Platypus here too.

ODO: This is very strange.

SISKO: It happens to all of us, Odo.

ODO: But--

SISKO: So you won't help.

ODO: Commander, my entire senior staff is on leave to Bajor for the
Songfest, seven hundred and thirty-two entertainers from five hundred and
ninety-three different planetary systems are arriving here over the next
three days, a shipload of Cardassians with inflated egos and poor social
skills docks here tomorrow, and Quark is running himself ragged trying to
take advantage of them all simultaneously. You may have time to play stupid
but I don't. (Awkward pause)

O'BRIEN: Cupid, I think you mean.

ODO: Why, what did I say?

SISKO: Never mind.

(Cut to BASHIR and GARAK entering sickbay.)

BASHIR: I got a note from her yesterday saying she would write today with
an important request. I have no idea what it could possibly be. We're
actually not biologically related. She's Phrenellian.

GARAK: Phrenellian? This *is* a day of surprises. What were you doing so
close to the Demilitarized Zone?

BASHIR: It was all long before this business with the Maquis, back when
Phrenellia was considering joining the Federation. I was on their homeworld
for a year between college and medical school working on a Federation
research project. Computer, are there any messages for me?

COMPUTER: Affirmative.

BASHIR: On screen. (Continues talking to GARAK while reading the message)
Anyway, I lived with a Phrenellian family that had a daughter, and their
rules about female conduct are very strict. Unmarried women are supposed to
have almost no contact with males outside the family. IN order to live in
their house I had to be formally adopted.

GARAK: They trusted her with *you*?

BASHIR: They take the adoption ceremony very seriously, Garak, and so do I.
Besides, she was a child then. I've regarded her ever since as my next of
kin. She's really all the family I have.

GARAK: But clearly she doesn't contact you often.

BASHIR: The past couple years she's been very busy. When a Phrenellian girl
hits marriageable age there are great demands on her time--(stops short as
he reads a particular passage; long pause while he goes back over it)

GARAK : Is something wrong?

BASHIR: Well...that depends. (Turns to him) She's getting married. And she
wants to have the wedding here.

*end Act I*

ACT II
 
(Ops. O'BRIEN, DAX and KIRA are standing around that round thing on the
floor conferring. Kira is clearly skeptical.)

DAX: Come on! It'll be your way of participating in the Songfest without
having to deal with the Kai.

KIRA: But I don't like either of them.

O'BRIEN: All the more reason to keep them occupied with each other. They
won't have time to pester us.

KIRA: Are you sure this'll even work? I thought humans didn't do heldek stor.

O'BRIEN: Heldek--

DAX: The closest expression you have is "same-sex love."

KIRA: I've never seen two human males even hold hands.

O'BRIEN: Ah, it's as common on Earth as it is on Bajor.

KIRA: Really.

O'BRIEN: Oh, yeah. It's just that for centuries--er--heldek stor was
illegal in most military organizations.

KIRA: Illegal? What for?

O'BRIEN: (Shrugs) I couldn't tell you. That was all back in the dark ages.
It hasn't been so since the 22nd century but there's still a lot of
resentment on both sides. So they tend to go into more friendly
organizations like the priesthood.

DAX: The priesthood!

O'BRIEN: Oh sure. Clement XXV made it a job requirement at Vatican VI.
(KIRA stares) Well, it was either that or let them get married.

KIRA: Your homeworld is a very strange place, Chief. (SISKO enters from his
office)

SISKO: Major.

KIRA: Coming. (She follows him toward the turbolift.)

DAX: So you'll help.

KIRA: All right all right all right.
 
(Cut to a greeting area outside one of the airlocks. BASHIR is already
pacing back and forth. At intervals groups of festively attired aliens
arriving for the Songfest come down the ramp carrying bizarre musical
instruments. KIRA and SISKO enter)

BASHIR: Commander! I--I appreciate your coming, but it isn't necessary on
my account.

SISKO: It's not on your account. The Federation has been looking for a
chance to reestablish ties with the Phrenellians, and I aim to give it to them.

BASHIR: Yes, well, there are a few things you should know--

SISKO: I'm not to make eye contact with her or address her directly, I know
that.

BASHIR: And don't refer to her being there until they have. She's supposed
to be invisible to you.

KIRA: What about me?

BASHIR: You don't have to worry, only--

KIRA: Only what?

BASHIR: Don't be offended if-- (Phrenellian delegation appears. KIRA and

SISKO stand to greet them. D'JONN and CHAULID walk together, followed by
TL'OANE and REOH. REOH looks down at her feet and stands behind 
TL'OANE.
Other Phrenellians stand behind them, including the PRIEST who will be
celebrating the wedding. TL'OANE spots BASHIR and runs to embrace him)

TL'OANE: Brother! It has been too long.

BASHIR: Far too long. Why don't you ever communicate? I've missed you.

TL'OANE: Forgive me, my responsibilities--

D'JONN: (rudely) Who is master of this house?

SISKO: I am Commander Sisko of the Federation starbase Deep Space Nine. I
am master of this house and I offer it to you. May it hold everything you seek.

D'JONN: May the winds return to you twice what you give us. I am D'Jonn of
Garano; this is my brother Chaulid. (CHAULID nods. So far none of them have
appeared to notice KIRA, who is beginning to resent this.) We travel with
Tl'Oane of Missna.

SISKO: (to Tl'Oane) You are welcome.

TL'OANE: I hope to repay you for your hospitality. (KIRA clears her throat)

SISKO: May I present Major Kira Nerys, Pillar of this House. (D'JONN barely
glances at her and nods; TL'OANE shakes her hand)

TL'OANE: It is an honor to meet you. Julian has told me so much about you.

KIRA: Has he. (SISKO nudges her) I mean, the honor is mine. You are *all*
(glaring at D'JONN) welcome to our house.

SISKO: Please, you must be tired after your journey. Allow me to show you
to your quarters.

D'JONN: You are a good host. 

(He and SISKO leave. CHAULID, following them
out, glances at REOH, who raises her eyes. The rest of the Phrenellians,
except for Tl'Oane and Reoh, drift off. He smiles and runs after the others.
KIRA exhales to release the pent-up aggravation)

BASHIR: Reoh? (Reoh smiles and embraces him) I can't believe it! Time's
certainly treated you better than it has me.

REOH: (scrutinizing him) You know, you're right. (KIRA laughs) Well, it's
impolite to disagree with one's host.

BASHIR: I'm not your host, I'm your brother. Of course that never stopped
you before. Reoh, this is Major Kira. (REOH gives her a large, enthusiastic
hug, which makes her clearly uncomfortable.)

REOH: I've so looked forward to meeting you! Julian has told me all about
you and the Bajoran resistance. You have been such an inspiration to us.

KIRA: Us?

REOH: My cohort in the Women's Defense League.

KIRA: Has there been an invasion?

TL'OANE: Not recently. Nor will there be, if I have anything to do with it.
Reevaluating the Cardassian threat is one of the first things I have planned
after my ascension.

BASHIR: Ascension! Tl'Oane! Reoh never told me you'd been chosen!

TL'OANE: The elders still have to make the final cast, but I'm preparing an
agenda anyway, on the off chance.

BASHIR: Congratulations. (They begin walking down the corridor) Reoh, it's
wonderful to see you both, but I must say I was a little surprised that you
wanted to have the wedding here.

REOH: It was D'Jonn's idea. He convinced Tl'Oane that this would help him
get back on the Federation's good side.

TL'OANE: I'm afraid I'm turning Reoh's wedding into a diplomatic mission.
We want to show that traditional Phrenellian culture can be compatible with
Federation values. So we'd like as many of your colleagues as are interested
to attend the wedding. You don't mind a larger crowd, do you, Reoh?

REOH: Not if you keep all your ascension promises.

TL'OANE: Reoh is anxious for me to do something about the rules of decorum.

KIRA: You mean this ridiculous stuff about who can speak to who.

REOH: Oh, the rules for public meeting are just the tip of the iceberg.
(They pause outside the guest quarters)

KIRA: These are your quarters. Your fiance and his obnoxious brother are
just down the corridor.

REOH: Oh dear. Would it be possible to get quarters further away?

KIRA: You want to be farther away from your fiance.

Tl'OANE: It's not good form to have them within walking distance. Usually
they stay on different islands until the ceremony.

KIRA: Unfortunately with the Cardassians coming and the traffic from the
Songfest I don't think we've got any quarters that aren't already assigned.

TL'OANE: Of course, on such short notice that's understandable. I should
have asked in advance--

BASHIR: She can stay with me, can't she?

Tl'OANE: Brother, you know I trust you, but to D'Jonn and Chaulid you're
still a stranger. D'Jonn is very anxious that all the rules be observed
exactly. The people will be watching us very closely and there mustn't be
even the appearance of impropriety, especially in front of strangers.

KIRA: What about my quarters? She's allowed contact with other women, isn't
she?

REOH: Would you really do that for me?

KIRA: Any enemy of the Cardassians is a friend of mine. I'll show you where
they are. (She and REOH move off, REOH looking down at her feet again) How
can you see where you're going?

REOH: Years of practice.
 
(Our scene shifts to Quark's. Groups of tourists are mingling in the bar
and around the dabo tables. Several Cardassians enter, look around
abashedly, and eventually sit in a table in a corner. They take out PADDs
and begin punching at them assiduously. QUARK attempts to strike up a
conversation with one of them; he is foiled by their collective shyness and
eventually withdraws to behind the bar, where upon looking across it he
encounters ODO glaring at him.)

QUARK: What can I get you, Constable?

ODO: Nothing. I'm here to do you a favor. It's a piece of advice: Leave the
Cardassians alone.

QUARK: I wouldn't dream of disturbing them.

ODO: I know they're easy marks, but they haven't got anything to steal.

QUARK: What makes you think I--

ODO: You may have heard stories about Cardassian research grants but these
are historians, Quark. They're in the humanities.

QUARK: (visibly disappointed) Oh.

ODO: Don't get depressed; you've still got the songfest traffic.

QUARK: True enough.

ODO: I'll be watching you, Quark.

QUARK: So what else is new.

ODO: I mean closer than usual. No auspicious activity will go uninvestigated.

QUARK: Come again?

ODO: I mean it, Quark. Whatever previous schemes you have planned, I advise
you to postpone them, because the instant you put one in motion I'll be down
on you like a ton of chicks.

QUARK: Don't you mean a flock?

ODO: A flock of bricks? That's bizarre even for an idiom.

QUARK: You said chicks.

ODO: Don't be mellifluous.

QUARK: Constable, I think you've been working too hard. Why don't you take
the week off? (ODO growls and stalks off, passing OPHIDIA, a red-haired
woman in a plaid sheath dress carrying a large wicker basket and looking
around tentatively. She spots DAX at a table absorbed in a PADD and a cup of
coffee.)

OPHIDIA: Excuse me, miss, do you work here? (DAX looks up)

DAX: Phidder! (OPHIDIA sits) I didn't know you were coming!

OPHIDIA: I've always wanted to play the Songfest. This year I finally
worked my way around to this part of the quadrant. You're looking well.
How'd you get this host?

DAX: Karma, I guess. It's great to see you! Lemme get you something from e
bar. (KIRA passes, glaring at the Cardassians in the corner) Kira! (DAX gets
up) Kira, I want you to meet a good friend of mine from the Caledonian
system. Hand on, I'll be back in a minute. (Heads for the bar. Kira sits down.)

KIRA: I'm sorry, I didn't get your name.

OPHIDIA: That's all right. Everyone calls me Phidder.

KIRA: What brings you here all the way from Caledonia?

OPHIDIA: Well, I'm what you call an author surrogate. I'm here to help with
the plot, get the story moving faster, offer ironic metatextual commentary,
that kind of thing.

KIRA: (clearly not comprehending) Excuse me?

OPHIDIA: (sighs) My name's Ophidia; I'm a Caledonian snake singer and I'm
here for the Greenwood Songfest. (DAX returns)

DAX: Listen, Phidder, since you're here, can I interest you in a little
escapade we have planned?

OPHIDIA: Oh but of course, that's what I'm here--(a plaid snake pokes its
head out of the basket) Get back in there, Tartan! Sorry. Let's hear about
this jape. (Camera pans to the bar, where QUARK is tidying up. JILIAM, one
of the Cardassian professors, leaves the table and approaches him.)

QUARK: How can I help you?

JILIAM: Well, that depends. (Adjusts his vest so that QUARK can see latinum
glinting from an inside pocket, then covers it again)

QUARK: Perhaps you'd like to see one of our private dining rooms.

JILIAM: That sounds ideal. (Meaningful glances exchanged.)
 
(Our scene shifts to the Promenade, where ODO is instructing the portion of
his staff that does not have the week off.)

ODO: Remember, along with the Songfest traffic we have the Cardassian
academic exchange members and the Phrenellian state wedding. The 
Cardassians are liable to cause a certain amount of unrest but I'm sure you will 
be able to swindle them. (Staff looks slightly perturbed. ODO notices but
continues.) Pickpocketing and other petty thievery will be a problem in
large groups, so keep parties of five or more under intense mutiny. (More
consternation. Beginning to get frustrated) And, of course, I want a round
the clock watch on everyone involved with Fork's. (One staff member timidly
raises a hand) Yes, Fencing Jora?

ENSIGN JORA: Do you want us to guard the spoons and knives as well? (Staff
members prevent themselves with difficulty from cracking up)

ODO: What's the matter, ensign, are you having trouble underhanding my
quarters? (This proves too much and the entire staff bursts out laughing.)
That's enough! Presume your nations! (Nobody moves; they look at each other
confusedly. ODO shouts, slowly and with furious concentration:)
GO...DO...YOUR...JOBS!!!

STAFF: Aye, sir. (They scatter. ODO heads for sickbay.)
 
*End act two*

ACT III
 
(We are now in the corridor approaching Garak's House of Couture, where DAX
and OPHIDIA are confabulating. OPHIDIA carries a large, poufy wedding dress
on a hanger.)

OPHIDIA: How long do you want me to keep him in the fitting room?

DAX: Until you're sure he's overheard the chief and Sisko. After that if he
leaves it'll be to eavesdrop more.  That's all right.

OPHIDIA: When will they get here?

DAX: Any minute. I've got to go find Kira and go over our spiel. (Takes
off. OPHIDIA enters the shop. GARAK, who has been reshelving some of the
sweaters, accosts her)

GARAK: How may I help you, madam?

OPHIDIA: You can start by not calling me madam. My name's Ophidia.

GARAK: Garak, at your service. What can I do for you?

OPHIDIA: I need this altered in kind of a hurry. Do you think you could
have it ready for me tomorrow?

GARAK: That all depends. Why don't you go on in and try it on and then you
can show me what you want done to it. (OPHIDIA exits to fitting room.)
 
(Cut to Ops with SISKO and O'BRIEN, who is operating the replicator.)

O'BRIEN: Jamaican blend, hot, double sweet.

DAX'S VOICE: Dax to Sisko.

SISKO: Sisko here.

DAX'S VOICE: Ophidia's in position.

SISKO: We'll be right there. (The replicator materializes a pot of plomyk
soup. O'BRIEN reaches for it, does a double take)

O'BRIEN: (removing the soup) Coffee.Jamaican blend, hot, double sweet.(This
time it produces a plate of rakht.) Bloody thing. (Starts taking the
replicator apart.)

SISKO: Chief, do you have to do that *right* now?

O'BRIEN: Sorry, Commander, but this replicator has been acting up all week.
It'll only take a minute.
 
(Back to the fitting room. OPHIDIA stands on a short pedestal in the dress,
which is too big for her in most respects, especially the enormous billowing
skirt.)

OPHIDIA: Married? Oh God no. I use it in the ancient Terran segment of my
show. I do a kind of bride-who-got-away theme throughout the ages. You know,
starting with the Raggle-Taggle-Gypsies-O and moving forward.(GARAK 
emerges from beneath the skirt, carrying pins, tape measure, markers, etc.)

GARAK: I'm not familiar with it.

OPHIDIA: It's about a recently married lady who one night ditches her
husband to travel with the gypsies.

GARAK: I don't blame her. I would think just knowing you were tied to
someone for life would be enough to make you long to head for the hills.

OPHIDIA: Don't be hasty, Mr. Garak. One of these days you'll fall hard for
someone and then you'll look back on this conversation and feel pretty stupid.

GARAK: (Beginning to pin up the hem) All things are possible. I may indeed
someday be reduced to one of those bleating turtle-doves your love poetry is
so replete with, but I very much doubt it. How could I expect one person to
hold my interest for the next fifty years? Between now and then I plan to be
at least eight different people.

OPHIDIA: Sequentially or simultaneously? (GARAK laughs)
 
(Back to Ops. Closeup on O'BRIEN and the replicator, which has provided him
with a steaming plate of meat and veggies.)

O'BRIEN: Did I *ASK* you for corned beef and cabbage? (Tosses it away onto
a pile of rejected foodstuffs.) Coffee! Don't bother about the variety, just
give me something hot, brown and caffeinated!

SISKO: Chief! (Replicator produces a baked potato)

O'BRIEN: This is no simple malfunction. This replicator is deliberately
insulting me.

SISKO: Chief, I really think--

O'BRIEN: Just let me try one more thing.
 
(Fitting room. GARAK is taking in the bodice and OPHIDIA is getting restless.)

OPHIDIA: Tell me more about this ideal mate of yours.

GARAK: Well, she'd have to be loyal.

OPHIDIA: To you or Cardassia?

GARAK: Both, preferably. But she'd have to be devious enough to appreciate 
me.

OPHIDIA: I see. Faithful, yet scheming.

GARAK: Exactly. She'd be extremely intelligent, fertile, take an interest
in literature and language, have a solid grounding in surveillance and
interrogation, good healthy green skin tone, excellent fashion sense...

OPHIDIA: But of course.

GARAK: And she'd have to be able to stand up to an Obsidian Order
interrogation...(Suddenly becomes very businesslike) Are these the shoes
you're going to be wearing with it? (Back to the corridor outside. O'BRIEN
and SISKO approach. They stand in the main shop and hear OPHIDIA's voice
from the fitting room:)

OPHIDIA: Don't make it too tight; I have to fit another costume under here. 
(They nod to each other and position themselves as if having a casual
conversation.)

SISKO: (enunciating very clearly) So! Chief! What was it you were telling
me this morning about Doctor Bashir being in love with Garak? (Back to the
fitting room for a reaction shot of GARAK, who nearly swallows the pins he's
holding in his mouth.)

OPHIDIA: Finally.

O'BRIEN: It's true. I've never seen anyone so infatuated.

GARAK: Will you excuse me a moment?

OPHIDIA: Of course. (GARAK sneaks out into the main shop and hides,
ineffectively, behind a rack of suit jackets.)

O'BRIEN: It's all he can talk about. Garak this, Garak that. And since he
never stops talking, racquetball is becoming quite a chore.

SISKO: But *love,* Chief! Are you sure?

O'BRIEN: Am I sure? You remember that training session he and I ran down in
Dakor Province?

SISKO: Last weekend.

O'BRIEN: Yes. Well, they housed us in a single room and I discovered that
Julian talks in his sleep.

SISKO: Really.

O'BRIEN: It's knowledge I could well have lived without, believe me. It
would be unfair to repeat it verbatim, Commander, but let me tell you it was
strictly adult material and the only proper name I could make out was Garak.

SISKO: But it might be just a passing whim.

O'BRIEN: It's not just me. Dax is very concerned about him. She says more
than once she's come across him in the lab at odd hours of the night pouring
his heart out into a PADD and weeping like a lost soul.

SISKO: Goodness.

O'BRIEN: (warming up) It's true. And then he'll delete the whole thing,
throw the PADD against the wall, tear his hair, bang his head on the table
and shout  "Oh, Garak, Garak, God give me patience! Day after day we sit
grappling with literary issues when all I want is to grapple with your--"
(GARAK nearly knocks the rack over.)

SISKO: That's enough, Chief, I get the idea.

O'BRIEN: Dax is afraid one of these days he'll do himself a serious injury
or worse. (GARAK manifests concern)

SISKO: Has he said anything to Garak?

O'BRIEN: Oh no. He says he'll die before he breathes a word of this to him.
It's a bad lookout for him, any road, because he says he'll die if Garak
doesn't love him, and he'll die before he'll make his love known, and he'll
die if Garak ever says anything to him.

SISKO: But tell Garak. Hear what he has to say.

O'BRIEN: Oh, no. That would be a galaxy-class disaster.

SISKO: Why? Might Garak not feel the same way?

O'BRIEN: Sir, to Garak Julian's just a kind of pet. He's something to amuse
himself with until he can work out a way to get home to Cardassia. Garak's
been around too long and done too much to take a green kid like Julian
seriously. Poor boy generally gets the worst of the battle of wits as it is.
If he knew Julian was in love with him, he'd just tyrannize him worse.

SISKO: But still, we have no way of knowing how Garak really feels. Even if
you're asking him what time it is you can't get a straight answer. He could
be pining away in agony and we'd never know it.

O'BRIEN: No, Commander, I don't know him that well but I know there's no
hope. The Cardies are different. None of us really matter to him. He
pretends to take an interest but his heart's not here. No, it would be cruel
to tell him. Garak could never feel the same way; it's just not in him.

SISKO: You may be right. Garak's pretty cold-blooded. Speaking of which, he
doesn't seem to be around--guess we'll have to come back later for your
dinner jacket. (They begin to exit) It's a shame Garak's so cynical and
detached, I think Julian could make the right person very happy. He's
brilliant, he's affectionate, he's not bad-looking--

O'BRIEN: Now there I have to disagree with you.

SISKO: But there's a good heart under all that posturing.

O'BRIEN: I wish he had a proper use for it. Not to mention all that
perfectly good libido going to waste. (They exit. GARAK disentangles himself
from the clothing rack and advances into the main room, stunned)

GARAK: This can be no trick. (Paces about) O'Brien might be able to carry
something like this off, but Sisko couldn't deceive a Pakled four-year-old.
He's the most transparent human I've ever met. No, it must be true. He must
really...(ponders this in amazement) Love *me*? Why? I...I never thought I
would...(briskly) They say he's affectionate--I know that well enough; and
beautiful--I'd swear to that under torture; and intelligent--except for
loving me, and truthfully that's not exactly positive proof of his genius,
especially...oh dear. Especially after listening to me rant all afternoon
about the vapidity of love stories...(More pacing; suddenly he comes to a
decision) Well. It *is* relevant. I'm not giving Cardassia a good name on
this station; they say I'm cold-blooded, that I'm...not always perfectly
truthful. I hear how O'Brien and Sisko feel about me; if I put this
information to good use, as an operative should, I can change Cardassia's
image. Yes. If I return his affection...our union would perhaps bring the
Federation and Cardassia closer together. Yes. I'm sure it would. This isn't
just about me! It's about the fate of the Alpha Quadrant! He *must* be
requited. For the good of the empire. (OPHIDIA emerges cautiously from the
fitting room, carrying the dress and wearing her regular clothing. At the
same time, GARAK sights BASHIR approaching the shop)

GARAK: Oh my God, here he comes. (OPHIDIA hides. Garak peeks out at 
BASHIR, who looks his normal insouciant self.) Yes, the ravages of 
lovesickness are clearly visible to me now. The poor thing. (GARAK flits about 
in panic for a moment, then ends up at the back of the shop pretending to brush 
some lint off a jacket)

BASHIR: Garak! (Garak turns with an elaborate show of nonchalance)

GARAK: Doctor! What a pleasant surprise. How may I serve you?

BASHIR: Well, Garak, I've come to avail myself of your professional expertise.

GARAK: Really.

BASHIR: Yes, I need a new suit for my sister's wedding. I wondered if you
would fit me.

GARAK: Oh, I should think I would.

BASHIR: It's been a while since I last bought a formal outfit and I'm
afraid my measurements may have changed since then.

GARAK: Yes, well, we'll look into all that when the time comes. Have you
given any thought to the style? We have a fine selection of formal wear from
around the quadrant. A number of my clients have been quite happy with
these. (Shows him what is clearly a standard 20th-C tuxedo with minor
modifications)

BASHIR: I was looking for something a little more...adventurous.

GARAK: Indeed! Well, yes, Terran menswear does tend to the conservative
side. Now here's an interesting line: it's a Vulcan designer, but he shows a
lot of Bajoran influence, I think. (Shows him an earth-tone suit with more
flowing lines and a lot of texture work)

BASHIR: That's more like it. Would you have it in my size?

GARAK: That all depends on what size you are. Let's get you on into the
fitting room and we'll take a look.

BASHIR: Thanks, Garak, you don't know how much I appreciate this.

GARAK: The pleasure's all mine. (Bashir's badge beeps)

NURSE: Sickbay to Dr. Bashir.

BASHIR: Oh, damn. Go head.

NURSE: One of the Phrenellians has presented with a heart complaint. We're
having trouble diagnosing.

BASHIR: I'll be right there.

GARAK: I hope it's not your sister.

BASHIR: I'm sure it's nothing serious. Phrenellians are very prone to
psychosomatic disorders; weddings usually bring on an affliction in someone.
My guess is it's the groom.

GARAK: Well, our fitting must be postponed, then.

BASHIR: I'll be right back after I'm done in sickbay. OH, but the way, Reoh
told me to invite whoever I want to the wedding. I'd love you to come if
you're interested.

GARAK: Thank you, Doctor. I'll certainly try. (Bashir exits.)

GARAK: "Whoever I want to the wedding...I'd love you to come if you're
interested." (Ponders) There's a double meaning in that. (OPHIDIA emerges)

OPHIDIA: Mr. Garak? Are you finished with the dress?

GARAK: Oh my. I do apologize. When did you say you needed this?

OPHIDIA: (hands dress to him) Take your time. Borrow it if you like. (Pats
him on the shoulder) Good luck. (Exits)
 
(Our story moves to Sickbay, where BASHIR is examining CHAULID)

BASHIR: Any night sweats, palpitations, shortness of breath?

CHAULID: All three.

BASHIR: Well, Chaulid, you have all the symptoms of what we call
WRCC--wedding related cardiac complex. The anxiety about your coming
nuptials is affecting your circulatory system. It's quite a common condition.

CHAULID: So there's really nothing wrong with me.

BASHIR: There most certainly is. Your heartbeat is irregular and your blood
pressure is low. It's just that the cause is psychological. I'll put you on
some medication for the symptoms to tide you over. It should clear up after
the wedding.

CHAULID: Thank you, Doctor. (BASHIR readies the hypospray) If you don't
mind my asking--how is--uh--

BASHIR: Reoh's very well. No symptoms at all. (CHAULID blushes. BASHIR
sprays him) She seems very fond of you.

CHAULID: I am unworthy of her. I wish I could bring more to the marriage.
My family's fortunes suffered during the first defensive against Cardassia.

BASHIR: I don't think that matters to Reoh. She likes the idea that she'll
be helping restore your house. As long as you love each other...

CHAULID: Oh, I do! I only wish I deserved her.

BASHIR: You do. Good luck. I'll see you tomorrow, if not before. (CHAULID
leaves. ODO enters)

ODO: Doctor, I'm having a problem with my constabulary.

BASHIR: I'm sorry to hear that. Have they taken ill?

ODO: You don't understand. I'm the one affected. I haven't been able to
matriculate a coherent sentence since this morning.

BASHIR: I see. (Begins scanning him)

ODO: It's very incontinent.

BASHIR: Yes, I would imagine it must be. (Continues scanning) Well, Odo, we
run once again into the old problem, which is that nothing about your
biology is remotely analogous to anything I'm familiar with. It's difficult
to make an assessment.

ODO: Improvise. Please.

BASHIR: Ordinarily I would say something's amiss with the language centers
of your brain, but since you don't have a brain, per se, that's not a very
promising hypothesis. I can't run any of the usual...wait a moment. (Looks
at the tricorder, then takes out a tongue depressor.) Will you stick out
your tongue and say "ah," please.

ODO: Doctor, I'm a dizzy man. I don't have time for this. Do you have a
halitosis or not?

BASHIR: If you mean diagnosis, I do have one, but first you have to open
your mouth and say "ah."

ODO: (greatly suffering with the indignity of it all) Aaaaaaah.

BASHIR: Thank you.

ODO: Well?

BASHIR: How long have you been in humanoid form?

ODO: Twelve hours.

BASHIR: No, I mean how long has it been since you spent an appreciable
amount of time in something other than your present shape?

ODO: I'm not sure. I think it was...well, it's been at least a month. I've
been very busy.

BASHIR: That's what I thought. Your body is producing less of a chemical
that seems to be associated with shape retention. As a result, you're losing
some control over your fine mimetic functions. Your mouth and throat show
slight morphological abnormalities, which may be what's causing you to
misspeak. You think you're forming one word when in fact you're forming a
similar one.

ODO: But why don't I hear it?

BASHIR: Well, I don't know--how exactly *do* you hear?

ODO: Good question.

BASHIR: My advice is to spend some time as soon as you can shifting into
other forms. It's not natural for you to hold the same shape all day every
day. Your matter is simply getting tired of being Odo and it's starting to
make mistakes. I'd advise you to try doing some recreational shifting on a
regular basis from now on. In the meantime, try to use small words, you seem
to have better luck with those.

ODO: I'll do my best.

BASHIR: Good! (ODO leaves. BASHIR laughs and wanders into a secluded 
nook of sickbay to fiddle with some gadgets. KIRA and DAX, unseen by him, 
enter.)

DAX: Are you *sure* Garak is in love with Julian? (There is a crash from
the alcove as BASHIR drops his gadgets. They nod and continue)

KIRA: Definitely. Odo told me himself; and Odo never exaggerates. It's the
real thing.

DAX: He must have it pretty bad if he's confiding in Odo. Has anyone told
Julian about this?

KIRA: Garak swore Odo to secrecy. He says it would kill him if Julian ever
found out. Of course, it's killing him that he doesn't know, too.

DAX: Well, no one's sworn us to secrecy.

KIRA: We can't. It wouldn't be right.

DAX: Just because you don't like Garak is no reason to deny him his best
chance for happiness. We should let Julian know.

KIRA: I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy. Julian sees Garak as some
kind of walking mystery novel. He doesn't care for him as a person. Besides,
if Bashir's ego gets any more inflated he won't be able to get his head
through doorways. He's too deeply in love with himself to spare a thought
for Garak.

DAX: He's not *that* self-involved.

KIRA: Not self-involved? How many times have *you* heard about that damn
postganglionic fiber? (Cut to BASHIR, who is crouching on the floor
gathering up the broken bits of his dropped instruments)

BASHIR: (muttering) *Pre* ganglionic fiber...(Realizes Kira may have a
point and gets up, chastened, to find a better eavesdropping spot. Back to
Kira and Dax)

KIRA: If he knew he'd just take it as further proof that he's the prophets'
gift to sentient life forms. It's bad enough he thinks every female on this
station wants to play with his hypo--if he knew the men were swooning over
him too he'd be insufferable.

DAX: You're probably right. He'd just see Garak as another conquest and
lead him on or love him and leave him. Garak deserves better than that.

KIRA: No, I'm going to tell Odo to advise Garak to do whatever it takes to
get over him. It's true enough I don't like him, but I know what it's like
to be in love and I can sympathize with the agony he's going through. It's a
sad waste. Garak could throw a dart into Quark's on any given night and hit
someone more worth his time and energy than Bashir.

DAX: Oh, come on, he has his good points.

KIRA: Yes, but they're overshadowed by that massive, towering arrogance of 
his.

DAX: That's not how you felt at the gratitude festival. (KIRA gets DAX in a
headlock and twists her arm behind her back) OW!

KIRA: What did I tell you about that night?

DAX: That if I ever spoke of it again you'd rip my limbs off one by one?

KIRA: Correct.

DAX: All right, I take it back. (Kira releases her.)

KIRA: Well, it doesn't look like he's in here. Let's go.

DAX: I am sorry. I know you must be disappointed.

KIRA: Oh, you're a dead Trill. (Chases DAX out. BASHIR emerges slowly)

BASHIR: What fire is in my ears! Can this be true?
        Do people think me a conceited twit?
        Then ego, shrink! And arrogance, adieu;
        Nobody likes a self-enamored git.
        And Garak--well--love on! I will requite thee,
        Putting my heart in your reptilian hands;
        I must admit, the neck ridges excite me;
        That spoon thing on your forehead fires my glands.
        And others say you do deserve, and I...
        Believe it. (Laughs) Though God alone knows why.
 
(Quark's, after hours. QUARK is cleaning up. JILIAM appears from the
shadows and drags him into a dark corner)

JILIAM: You have not done what you promised.

QUARK: I have! Professor, I always fulfil my contracts. It took me a little
longer than I expected, but I found just the right woman for the job. If
you'll just take your hands off my lapels I'll go get her.

JILIAM: Don't be long. (QUARK disappears upstairs and returns with DOPLA, 
a dabo girl who bears some resemblance to REOH and has her hair done the 
same way.)

QUARK: What do you think?

JILIAM: She'll do. Did you obtain the garments? (QUARK produces a bundle of
clothing.) Excellent. (To DOPLA) You understand your role?

DOPLA: Give me a moment to change and she's all yours, whoever she is. 
(Exits.)

QUARK: I told her you were an excellent customer with peculiar tastes. She
thinks this is just a fantasy role-playing type thing. She'll give you
whatever you're looking for.

JILIAM: I suppose it's safer if she doesn't know.

QUARK: I do my best to provide full deniability for my clients.

JILIAM: You may go now.

QUARK: Of course. Lock up and bring the key back to my quarters when you're
done. (Exits. DOPLA emerges, dressed in what REOH wore in her first scene)

DOPLA: What's her name again?

JILIMA: Reoh. That's very important.

DOPLA: Whatever you say. Shall we get started? (JILIAM checks his 
chronometer)

JILIAM: Not yet.
 
(Cut to CHAULID in his quarters, trying on his wedding garments. He is
clearly feeling better, excited about; the wedding, etc. D'JONN enters)

CHAULID: Brother! Tell me, what do you think--tunic tucked into the sash,
or out? (D'JONN shakes his head)

D'JONN: So you still mean to be married tomorrow.

CHAULID: You know I do.

D'JONN: I'm not so sure I do, once you know what I know.
 
(Cut to QUARK's. It is dark. DOPLA sits on one of the tables, offended.)

DOPLA: If you have a problem with me, dismiss me and get someone else.
Don't keep me here when I could be working.

JILIAM: One moment please. (Looks up from chronometer) Very well. Let's
begin. (Approaches and embraces her, turning her back to the doorway)

DOPLA: I'd heard you professor types were anal, but this is--

JILIAM: Sssh. Speak as little as possible. Any nonverbal noises you could
make would be appreciated, however.

DOPLA: I should have held out for another bar of latinum. (They start going
at it on a table, JILIAM being careful to keep her face turned away from the
door. Panning out into the corridor we see D'JONN leading CHAULID toward 
the bar. When they get to the doors, D'JONN motions him to look in. At this
moment, JILIAM apparently climaxes, shouting "Reoh!" a few times while 
DOPLA accompanies him with fabricated orgasmic noises. CHAULID recoils, 
retching, and is led away by a sympathetic D'JONN. After a few moments, 
JILIAM breaks off abruptly)

JILIAM: Thank you very much. Here's a little something for your trouble.
(Hands her a clinking sack.) If you ever tell anyone about what happened
here tonight, I'll cut your throat. Do you understand?

DOPLA: Look, I don't know what you needed me for, but it obviously wasn't a
good time. I'm not stupid. I know when to keep my mouth shut. (She and
JILIAM exits; he locks the door. After they leave, we see the table that
Dopla and Jiliam were using turn into ODO. He shudders, dusts himself off,
and exits.)
 
(We now move to GARAK's shop, where he has been working late on 
OPHIDIA's dress and BASHIR's suit. He puts a bag over the dress, knots it, and 
hangs it up. He picks up the suit Julian picked out, fondles it for a moment, then
wraps it up in some paper.)

GARAK: (gazing fondly upon the package) You lucky pair of trousers. (Sighs)
Well, I normally don't make deliveries...but he needs it for tomorrow. I'll
just leave it outside his door...(Tucks the package under his arm and heads
for the corridor. As he locks his door, he hears JILIAM's voice from a
darkened corner of the deserted Promenade)

JILIAM: I trust my performance was satisfactory. (GARAK, recognizing the
voice, sneaks over to get a good look at the speaker)

D'JONN: I thought so. I won't ask how she felt.

JILIAM: Do not mistake me, D'Jonn. If you fail to perform in your turn the
audience will be very unhappy.

D'JONN: You'll have nothing to complain of.

JILIAM: I sincerely hope not. (They walk off in opposite directions, JILIAM
coming toward GARAK's lookout so he can see his face)

GARAK: (to himself, in shock) Jiliam? (Stares after him, then shakes his
head) I've got to stop pulling all-nighters. (Exits with package.)
 
(JILIAM stops outside QUARK's quarters, rings, and enters.)

QUARK: Well, well well. Everything work out?

JILIAM: Perfect. (Sits on a couch; QUARK on a nearby chair) You found a
very convincing double. Our target was completely taken in.

QUARK: Who was it? Jealous husband? Rival lover, perhaps? No, don't tell
me, I don't want to know. Pay me the rest of the latinum and let's never see
each other again.

JILIAM: Agreed. (As he hands QUARK the latinum, the unoccupied couch
cushion morphs into an arm, which plucks the bag from his hand. ODO
materializes and collars both of them)

ODO: I'm afraid you'll both be seeing a lot of each other for the next few
days. (Door opens to let in several security guards.) Destruct these dental
men to the prig. (Confusion)

ENSIGN JORA: He means take them to the brig. Come on, let's go. (They haul
them out.)
 
*End of part III*

ACT IV
 
(SISKO's quarters. SISKO is getting into his civvies for the big event. ODO
enters without ringing)

ODO: Commander Crisco! Last night I comprehended two auspicious persons--

SISKO: Odo, can this wait? I have to go to the Phrenellian wedding.

ODO: But Commander, this is remedially elephant to the pheromony you're
about to intend. I have reason to respect that Stork and this harassian were
perspiring to erupt the bedding. Will you please come down to the sprig and
irrigate them?

SISKO: Odo, whatever Bashir prescribed for you, it's not working.

ODO: Commander, please! I have recovered some kind of bastardly plot and I
need someone to surrogate them before the shredding is ruined.

SISKO: Odo, whoever they are, interrogate them yourself, I'll read your
report after the wedding. (Passes him on his way out)

ODO: Coriander! I can't do it myself! No one can countermand what I'm
braying! (SISKO waves at him and walks off. ODO growls and proceeds to the
turbolift) How am I proposed to corrugate them in this partition?
 
(Scene shifts to a large reception hall that has been fitted up as a
Phrenellian temple. A Phrenellian priest is behind the altar. Guests have
already started filling up the benches, including SISKO, DAX, KIRA and
O'BRIEN, who are all sitting together. D'JONN and CHAULID enter, speaking 
to no one, and take up position on one side of the altar. CHAULID looks
extremely unwell and appears to be nauseous; D'JONN is calm. GARAK enters)

KIRA: I don't know what you all did to him, but he is one happy Cardassian.

SISKO: I just put out the line, and the Chief reeled him right in. It was a
thing of beauty.

DAX: Well, I caught Julian in Quark's with a PADD this morning working on
something that looked like it had line breaks.

KIRA: Poetry? (DAX nods) No! Get out!

SISKO: Chief?

O'BRIEN: I can say it all in two words: No bloody darts.

SISKO: The game's afoot. People, if we all get drummed out of Starfleet on
my next rogue mission, let's start our own dating service. (GARAK joins them
just as they stop laughing)

GARAK: May I share the joke or is there only enough for you?

SISKO: Mr. Garak! Come sit down. We were just taking bets on how Julian's
going to look in his new wedding outfit.

GARAK: How else but radiant? After all, I helped him pick it out. (Titters
from the peanut gallery. SISKO glares at them to hush up.)

SISKO: Well, I'm sure he's in good hands.

GARAK: Commander, since you're here, I had a question to ask you. I know
it's possible for a ship's captain to perform marriages, and I was curious
to see whether a station commander...(Before the suppressed mirth among the
officers can explode, the procession enters and they all rise. BASHIR, in
his new suit, leads the way with TL'OANE. They carry between them as a
screen an unfolded tapestry behind which REOH walks, followed by the
musicians. They move down the aisle. D'JONN and CHAULID stand as they 
take up position on the other side of the altar. GARAK notices CHAULID's 
distress)

GARAK: Is that the groom? (KIRA nods) Oh dear. He doesn't look well. Are
you sure he wants to be here?

KIRA: Reoh says they've been in love since they were children. I'm sure
he's just nervous. (BASHIR and TL'OANE fold up the tapestry and withdraw
behind REOH, who stands opposite CHAULID. The priest advances)

PRIEST: Whose house gives up this woman?

TL'OANE: My house.

BASHIR: And mine.

PRIEST: Whose house receives her?

TL'OANE: Chaulid of Garano's. (PRIEST turns to CHAULID)

PRIEST: Do you, Chaulid of Garano, take this woman to your house.

CHAULID: No. (Consternation. TL'OANE recovers)

TL'OANE: No, Patriarch, D'Jonn is the elder brother. It is he who has to
open the house to her.

PRIEST: Of course. My mistake. D'Jonn of Garano, do *you* take this woman
to your house.

D'JONN: No. (More consternation)

GARAK: Is this part of the ceremony?

SISKO: (puzzled) Maybe.

CHAULID: Tl'Oane, do you give me your sister?

TL'OANE: You know I do, freely and with my heart. What is the matter?

CHAULID: How can I ever repay you for this precious gift?

D'JONN: Never, unless you give her back again.

CHAULID: You always have the answer, brother D'Jonn. (CHAULID grabs 
REOH and throws her back at TL'OANE) Take her back again! Do not profane 
our friendship with this whore! (REOH screams and collapses. BASHIR rushes 
to her.)

BASHIR: Sickbay, medical emergency. (Starts examining her)

CHAULID: I hope you did not know what rotten filth you offered me when you
gave Reoh up.

KIRA: This is *not* part of the ceremony.

TL'OANE: Chaulid! If you have persuaded her to give herself to you--

CHAULID: Not me! O Gods! I loved her as I should! I never raised my eyes to
hers, or spoke an unpermitted word--

REOH: No more did I! Chaulid, have you gone mad?

D'JONN: (disgusted) She names her lord in public. (To TL'OANE) This is what
comes of your ideas of reform! I trusted you, I thought you had the best
interests of Phrenellia at heart, but after what I saw last night I know
that your policies would be the ruin of our houses!

CHAULID: (to REOH) Who did you meet with in the Ferengi's bar last night
between two and three?

REOH: No one! I wasn't there! I was asleep!

CHAULID: Dishonest and a whore. You do your house too much honor. (To
TL'OANE) I saw your sister, in the Ferengi's bar, at that time last night,
couple with--a Cardassian! (GARAK suddenly pricks up his ears. REOH 
screams, pitches forward, clutches at her throat and begins seizing. By this time
BASHIR's stuff has been brought from the infirmary and he is able to
tranquilize her. GARAK slips off the bench and makes his way through the
general chaos toward BASHIR)

TL'OANE: I won't believe a charge so infamous--

D'JONN: I am sorry for it; we always have been friends. I know you thought
you did right by bringing Reoh up independent. But look on the result and
reconsider. Their ways cannot be ours. Our women cannot maintain their honor
without the rules. It hurts me, Tl'Oane, but from now on my house and yours
are enemies. (Looking at REOH, who is unconscious on the floor being tended
by BASHIR) Come, Chaulid. We have no more to do here. Your love that was is
dead. (They barge out through the crowd, which is breaking up and exiting.
KIRA runs forward to help REOH)

SISKO: Dax, get to ops and seal all the airlocks. Lock the docking clamps
on the Phrenellian vessel. No one leaves this station until we know what
happened here. (She nods and leaves.) O'Brien, find Odo and see if he's
making sense yet. If he is, bring him down here. (O'BRIEN leaves. SISKO
approaches GARAK, KIRA, TL'OANE and REOH.)

TL'OANE: My life is over.

SISKO: Do you have an explanation for this?

TL'OANE: I can think of none, except that their charges are true.

KIRA: None of this makes any sense. Why should she pick the night before
her wedding, of all the nights--

TL'OANE: Major, was she in your room between two and three?

KIRA: I don't know. I was asleep. I'm sure she was too. Most people are.

TL'OANE: Oh Gods! My fathers and grandfathers, our mother, forgive my
blindness...(REOH moves)

SISKO: How is your patient, Doctor?

BASHIR: Reviving.

TL'OANE: In the name of the five winds, what for? (As REOH sits up, he
grabs her by the hair and throws her back to the ground) Do not live! You
have burnt our house, blackened my name and drowned yourself in the deepest
infamy there is before our hosts and guests from all over the quadrant! Was
there a shortage of gallants on this station that you had to choose as
Cardassian lover? Was defiling yourself too small a crime, that you had to
add treason to it)

REOH: Brother, they lie!

TL'OANE: Never let me hear your voice again! Listening to it cost me my
honor and yours. Crawl back into death, there is nothing for you to do on
the honest earth! (He lunges for her; GARAK lays him flat on the floor with
a blow to the jaw and stands over him smiling)

GARAK: Sir, sir, be patient. I'm far from understanding what's happened
here, myself, but their story can't possibly be the undiluted truth.

BASHIR: I'll go further. It's a tissue of outrageous lies from beginning to
end. How could you, of all people, believe Reoh capable of this?

SISKO: Julian, may I speak to her?

TL'OANE: Speak to her, touch her, enter her; it doesn't matter now.

SISKO: Reoh, who is it that you're accused of meeting?

REOH: (Weak) Chaulid and D'Jonn may know; I don't. I've never spoken to a
Cardassian in my life. (To TL'OANE) Brother, I know...because of your
position...and the ascension...it was even more important for me to observe
the rules. I swear on my womanhood I have never broken them!

TL'OANE: Your womanhood! You've lost that forever! You are dead to me!
(REOH collapses again.) And I...I am undone. (Staggers against the altar and
collapses. BASHIR runs to him)

SISKO: Someone has deliberately sabotaged this wedding. Why?

KIRA: Maybe someone didn't want the Phrenellians allied with the Federation.

SISKO: But D'Jonn and Chaulid both support the alliance. I spoke with them
about it yesterday.

GARAK: Let me guess. D'Jonn represented himself to you as a fervent patriot
who sees alliance with the Federation as the best insurance against
Cardassian encroachment.

SISKO: He did.

GARAK: That's very interesting. (BASHIR finishes the first aid to TL'OANE)

BASHIR: We've got to get them both out of here at once. Major, take Reoh
back to your quarters and keep Tl'Oane away from her. Don't let her see
anyone or talk to anyone, not even Sisko or the others. Contact me if her
condition changes. (KIRA nods) Commander, Tl'Oane is your responsibility.
Take him back to your quarters and stay with him until he revives. When he
comes to, you must convince him that this will not adversely affect
Federation relations with his homeworld.

SISKO: That's a pretty tall order.

BASHIR: His life depends on it. It will lessen some of the shame. Please.

SISKO: I'll try. (KIRA and SISKO heft their respective burdens and exit
with them. GARAK watches them go. The last stragglers leave the room.
BASHIR picks up the tapestry, puts it on the altar, and bends over it with
his back to GARAK, crying quietly.)

GARAK: Well, this marriage business is certainly more exciting than I would
have expected from reading--(turns around and notices BASHIR, walks over to
him and touches him on the shoulder) Doctor. (BASHIR turns) Your face is
wet. (Touches it.) Why Doctor, you've been crying.

BASHIR: Once again your excellent deductive skills come to the rescue. I
have indeed been crying and what's more I'll be doing so for quite some time.

GARAK: I hope not.

BASHIR: I'm afraid it's not in your power to stop me. I wish it were.

GARAK: Oh, come now, Doctor. I'm afraid this marriage was not to be, but if
you ask me, she's better off without him.

BASHIR: That's not the point! (GARAK, who has never seen BASHIR get 
really angry before, draws back) Phrenellians have been culturally conditioned 
to respond to emotional crises with biological symptoms. Shame is extremely
dangerous for them and because it's a patriarchy women are far more
vulnerable than men. She has been called a whore, on her wedding day, by her
fiance, in front of a crowd of family and strangers. She can't recover from
this, Garak. If her name isn't cleared, she will die.

GARAK: But if her name is cleared?

BASHIR: It can't be! This kind of thing is impossible to disprove. It's
their word against hers. Her own brother won't stand up for her. I'm a
foreigner, my testimony wouldn't count. She won't be allowed to speak for
herself and if she did no one would believe her. My God! They did a very
complete job of it. Out in public, at night, having illicit sex, in a bar,
with a Cardassian, in full view of two reliable witnesses! They've killed
her! How could Chaulid *do* this to her? If only I weren't a doctor, I'd
kill him myself!

GARAK: Let's not get carried away, Doctor.

BASHIR: Carried aw--Garak, Tl'Oane won't even be able to bury her properly.
She'll be thrown into the acid pits and left to--If only I could I'd rip his
heart out with pleasure. Garak, I was an only child. My final semester in
college both my parents were killed when their ship disappeared in the
Penares nebula. Tl'Oane and Reoh were a family to me when I needed one most.
And now he's taken them both away from me--he's ruined and she's dead--don't
talk to me about restraint! (Turns away from GARAK. GARAK takes him by 
the shoulders and brings him around)

GARAK: Doctor. Doctor, look at me. (BASHIR does) Lately I've developed a
number of interesting symptoms which I would like to share with you. I've
made my own diagnosis, but--

BASHIR: Garak, not now!

GARAK: Let me finish. (Gathers his forces) I've noticed, for instance, that
when I wake up the first thing I think of is when I'll be able to see you.
Also, I have observed that when I am with you, I'm not aware of anything or
anyone else except that I can hear my own heart beating, which is not usual
for me. Furthermore, I've always been pleased with my quarters, and looked
forward to retiring to them after a long day, but now I find that when I go
home at night it seems brutally unfair to me that you are not there waiting
for me. And now, I notice that to see you in trouble distresses me extremely
and that in order to save you or someone you loved from pain or suffering I
would do anything, including killing Chaulid, who I don't even know and who
has never done me any harm. Now, I'm not absolutely sure, because my
research on the subject has been somewhat haphazard, but I think this means
that I love you. (BASHIR stares) Isn't that strange?

BASHIR: Stranger things have happened to me.

GARAK: Really? Such as what?

BASHIR: It's--possible--that I love you as well-- (GARAK's eyes light up.
He advances on BASHIR, who backs away babbling) I'm not saying I do! 
(GARAK stops in his tracks) But I'm not saying I don't! I don't know--I admit
nothing--I deny nothing--I--I am sorry for my sister!

GARAK: I think you do love me, Doctor.

BASHIR: I think you may be right.

GARAK: Then tell me. Let me hear you say it.

BASHIR: If finishing all 4,000 pages of *The Never-Ending Sacrifice* just
so I could talk to you about it isn't a declaration of love, I don't know
what is.

GARAK: No. This has never happened to me before, and I don't mind telling
you I'm frightened out of my skull. I've invented so many pasts and
identities I don't even know any more what parts of me are fiction and what
aren't. You can't possibly know how disturbing it is to me to discover that
what I feel for you can't be denied, altered or disguised. I need to know
whether it's the same for you. If it isn't, tell me, but don't dance around
it because we're way past all that. So look deep into that four-chambered
organ of yours and tell me, *do* *you* *love* *me*?

BASHIR: Garak, I--(extremely tense pause) Of course I love you. I wish I
had known it sooner. (They come together and there is a certain amount of
joyful goings-on. This being Paramount, however, they are curtailed early
when BASHIR, in mid-clinch, draws back)

GARAK: What is it?

BASHIR: It's Reoh. (They separate and sit, dejected) She may already be
dead. I have to go to her. (They stand. BASHIR begins to exit. GARAK stops 
him)

GARAK: Tell her not to die yet. She will be cleared.

BASHIR: How?

GARAK: That's my business.

BASHIR: Garak...please, don't do anything rash.

GARAK: Oh, Doctor. I am many things, but *never* rash.

BASHIR: (Laughing and drying his eyes) You know, Garak, after all this I do
think you might start calling me Julian.

GARAK: I'll see if I can get used to it. Go, take care of your sister. I
have to see a woman about a dress.

(GARAK's shop. GARAK hands the wedding dress to OPHIDIA)

OPHIDIA: Thank you. I hope it wasn't too much trouble. What do I owe you?

GARAK: Let's negotiate.

OPHIDIA: Mr. Garak, I'll be blunt. I am the worst haggler that ever walked
a planet. Please, just name the price you're really after and I'll pay you.

GARAK: That's not what I meant. You have an academic background, do you 
not?

OPHIDIA: For all the good it's done me.

GARAK: How would you like a chance to work in your field?

OPHIDIA: You have a tenure track job open?

GARAK: Not exactly. There's a delegation of Cardassian historians on the
station and I need some information about one of them. I'd be more than
willing to waive the alteration charges, and even throw in a little
something else, if you think you can get it.

OPHIDIA: This is going to mean attending that conference reception this
afternoon, isn't it? (GARAK nods) Well, all right, but it's gonna cost ya.
 
(SISKO's quarters. TL'OANE is laid out on a couch in the living room. JAKE
is doing his homework at a nearby table. TL'OANE revives, stares at JAKE)

TL'OANE: Are you the gatekeeper?

JAKE: Excuse me?

TL'OANE: Are you the gatekeeper?

JAKE: I don't think so. I'm Jake Sisko.

TL'OANE: (disappointed) Then I'm not dead.

JAKE: I'll tell my dad you're up. (Exits. SISKO enters)

TL'OANE: How is my sister?

SISKO: She's alive. Small thanks to you, I'm afraid.

TL'OANE: (sitting up with difficulty) I know. I lost my head. (Shakes his
head) For years I watched my friends treat their sisters and wives like that
and told myself I would never be capable of that kind of cruelty. It must be
the guilt that brought me back. Death is too light a punishment for me.

SISKO: We were all caught by surprise. But surely you realize now that your
sister was framed.

TL'OANE: I can't believe that she has done what she was accused of, but I
don't understand who would want to kill her.

SISKO: Has it occurred to you that she may not have been the one they were
after? (TL'OANE waits) What happens to your career as a result of this fiasco?

TL'OANE: I will resign and submit to public castigation when I return to my
homeworld. My house and its belongings will be forfeit to the state and I
will become a transient.

SISKO: So someone else will ascend at the next casting.

TL'OANE: Of course. D'Jonn.
 
(The bedroom in CHAULID and D'JONN's guest quarters. CHAULID lies on 
the bed, very ill. D'JONN is nearby tending to him)

D'JONN: Yes, of course, as soon as you're strong enough to travel we'll
leave. I know it's not good for you to be here where you'll be reminded of her.

CHAULID: Thank you, brother. I would never have believed...

D'JONN: I know, I know. Try to sleep. (CHAULID nods and closes his eyes.

D'JONN exits into the living area, which is darkened.) Computer, lights.
(Lights do not come on. Instead, D'JONN finds himself suddenly pinned with
his face to the wall and GARAK hissing into his ear)

GARAK: If I were you I wouldn't struggle. Taking your life wouldn't even be
a blip on the sensors as far as my conscience is concerned.

D'JONN: What do you want with me?

GARAK: You don't really want me to answer that question. Fortunately for
you this is business and not pleasure, or you wouldn't still be alive.
You've deliberately framed, slandered, and murdered an innocent woman in
whom, for reasons that are not relevant to our discussion, I happen to have
taken an interest. Now, it is just possible that in some twisted way you do
have a patriotic motive for this piece of treachery and if so, I would
advise you to share it with me now.

D'JONN: I don't know what you're talking about. My brother and I saw that
whore at her trade ourselves. Her guilt is palpable and her death only
proves it. Let me go.

GARAK: I see. So the name Spen Jiliam means nothing to you. (Silence) Very
well, if you won't talk, listen. I know Chaulid thinks what he saw was real,
but you don't. You staged that scene in Quark's and you'd better pray to
whatever god will listen to you that I find out how, because if I can't
clear her name I will avenge her death. (Disappears. D'JONN turns, but GARAK
is already gone. Lights come back on. He rubs his throat nervously)
 
(In another reception area, a large banner reading "WELCOME IMPERIAL
HISTORY CONFERENCE" hangs above a table on which the bar has been set 
up and around which most of the Cardassian professors are clustered. Outside 
the door is a table with a Cardassian woman behind it and nametags arranged on
it. OPHIDIA stops in front of it.)

OPHIDIA: Hello, I'm sorry but I can't find my nametag. I'm Ophidia Varegia.

WOMAN: (Checking the list) I don't think there is one. Which faculty are
you with?

OPHIDIA: (reading one of the tags) I'm Professor Krashl's research assistant.

WOMAN: Oh, I'm sorry, we didn't make nametags for the graduate students.
(Hands her a blank tag and a marker)

OPHIDIA: Of course you didn't. (Writes her name on the tag, puts it on, and
enters. After casing the room, she gets a drink from the bar, finds a group
of two males and two females in the corner wearing handwritten tags, and
joins them) Hello.

STINAL: (reading the tag) Ophidia Varegia. You're not in the Perok program,
are you?

OPHIDIA: No, no, I'm at Daril Promontory. It's the only place that takes
off-world students.

RAKTA: I'm Rakta, this is Stinal, Bevin and Grink. Stinal and I are at
Perok and Bevin and Grink are from Kronat.

OPHIDIA: Kronat! I had a friend there in the language and literature
program. You probably wouldn't know him--he cracked up about two years in
and he's been institutionalized since then.

GRINK: I'm not surprised. Financial worries?

OPHIDIA: That and the endemic paranoia and despair.

GRINK: He's better off in confinement. Lang and lit was hit even harder
than we were. They just lost 75% of their government funding.

OPHIDIA: Yikes.

BEVIN: Yeah. They've got 30 graduate students battling it out for three
fellowships and one assistantship with a 4-4 teaching load. It's ugly. We
got by with a 50% cutback because someone in Central Command is convinced
that history can be put to use on the battlefield. Otherwise we'd be in the
same position.

OPHIDIA: Well, Daril gets no funding to start with so it has nothing to lose.

RAKTA: What's it like there? I've heard horror stories.

OPHIDIA: I would imagine they're all true. It'd be hard to make up anything
more gruesome than the reality. The program is huge, for one thing. I've
never had a seminar with under 20 students in it. But at least they aren't
competitive like they are some places.

RAKTA: That's good.

OPHIDIA: Well, it's only because there's nothing to fight over. They do
offer teaching assistantships but they don't pay any salary.

STINAL: Unbelievable.

OPHIDIA: And you have to bribe the department chair just to get one. Plus
if you survive the program it gets no better. Do you know they haven't
placed a job candidate in 10 years?

STINAL: Ten! How do they get new students with a record like that?

OPHIDIA: Oh, the usual combination of misinformation, deception, and
exploitation. (They laugh)

BEVIN: Don't talk to us about exploitation, Rakta there works for Spen
Jiliam. (Chorus of disgusted groans)

OPHIDIA: Lucky you! What are you, his research assistant?

RAKTA: I'm his personal slave, as far as I can tell. He won't let me near
his actual scholarly work, if he's doing any, which I doubt. All I do for
him is send communications, arrange travel and accommodations, keep his
mistress away from his wife and heat up his yamuck sauce. All for a stipend
that would be funny if it weren't tragic.

OPHIDIA: (handing her the drink) Here, you need this. (RAKTA chugs it) In
fact, you all look like you could use another round. Grink, what are you
drinking? (Collects orders and proceeds to the bar)
 
(The brig. ODO sits in the chair, sullenly glaring at QUARK and JILIAM, who
are being held in one of the cells.)

QUARK: I demand to be released. I have done nothing to warrant this
shameful treatment.

ODO: You'll be policed when I'm good and ready to police you. (To JILIAM)
As for you, you're going nowhere until you tell me more about your little
abstraction with Spork.

JILIAM: I refuse to be questioned by an obvious lunatic. I demand to see an
advocate.

ODO: You paid Quirk for deriding a woman who could help you stage a
clamorous discounter between yourself and another woman who it was your
accomplishes job to imperpetrate. Now what I want to know is why.

JILIAM: Why what?

ODO: For whose benefit did you conflagrate this resignation?

JILIAM: What resignation? (ODO stands)

ODO: You know exactly what I mean.

JILIAM: No I don't. Neither do you. I haven't understood a word you've said
since you arrested us. Either you are insane or you are simply an ass, and--

ODO: (chillingly) What did you say?

JILIAM: An ass! An ass! YOU ARE AN ASS!! (ODO, in a fit of frustration,
morphs into a large and frightening creature with many clawed arms and
several mouths, all of which are emitting a fearsome howl of rage. JILIAM
and QUARK tremble. GARAK enters behind him as ODO resumes his usual 
shape)

GARAK: Is there something I can help you with, Constable? (ODO's eyes light
up as he spots GARAK. He grabs him by the lapels)

ODO: Garak! Will *you* interpolate these two benefactors? (GARAK spots 
JILIAM)

GARAK: I'll be delighted. (Advances to the cell, where JILIAM attempts to
hide his face) What's the matter, Jiliam, surprised to see me?

JILIAM: Not really. I knew you'd wash up on some trash heap or other.

GARAK: I must say I'm a little surprised to see *you*. I thought your
little misunderstanding with the Order had finished you off years ago.

JILIAM: I was given the chance to start a new life in a different career.

GARAK: So you sought out the groves of academe in search of a more peaceful
existence.

JILIAM: I've left the Order behind, Garak. I advise you to do the same.
They don't take their black sheep back into the fold.

GARAK: True. But sometimes the sheep have a hard time accepting that.

ODO: Tell me about it.

GARAK: As I said, I thought you were dead or at least incarcerated. When I
saw you last night on the Promenade I was almost prepared to believe I'd
hallucinated you, thought what you would have been doing in my subconscious
I cannot imagine. (JILIAM gets nervous) Who *was* that Phrenellian you were
talking to, anyway? Ah--no--don't tell me--it must have been the fiance's
brother--what's his name--D'Jonn.

JILIAM: I was nowhere near the Promenade.

ODO: Just like you were nowhere near Quark's at two plundered hours.

GARAK: At two hundred--Odo, tell me, this is very important--exactly what
did you arrest them for?

ODO: Inspiring to lubricate a glamorous encounter for hilarious porpoises.
(GARAK's face falls. ODO motions to him to wait. He produces the next speech
with great care and enunciation) I watched Quark's as a table. I saw them
pull the scam. Then I found him in Quark's room. He paid Quark for the job.
This consignment revolved--(stops himself; starts again) This job was to
find a girl who looked like another so that they could trick a third party.
No doubt into thinking she was untrue. Why, I do not know. But we are close,
I feel.

GARAK: Yes, I believe we are. (Advances on JILIAM) You arranged with 
Quark to hire a woman to impersonate Reoh. D'Jonn and you had already 
arranged for him to bring Chaulid by Quark's at a certain time of night, when 
you would be there doing your pathetic best to simulate a passionate encounter 
with her. As a result, Chaulid and D'Jonn broke of the wedding and shamed 
Reoh in public, thus destroying Tl'Oane's political viability and leaving the field
open for D'Jonn.

JILIAM: You're insane.

GARAK: Not as insane as D'Jonn is if he thinks Central Command will let him
go blithely on his way after helping him gain the ascension. Or as you are,
if you think the Order will really take you back into its good graces for
this little performance.

QUARK: Constable! I had no idea this was a political intrigue. I thought it
was a straightforward case of blackmail. Honest. All I did was provide him
with the place and a girl who looked like the picture he showed me. Oh, and
I broke into Kira's quarters and stole some clothes out of a traveling bag.
But I put them back! That's all. On my honor as a Ferengi.

ODO: I believe you, Dork.

QUARK: You do?

ODO: Of course I do.

QUARK: So when can I go?

ODO: When you've served your combined sentence for felicitation, broad,
faking and rendering, and weft.

GARAK: You, however, will go now. Specifically, you'll go with me to
explain exactly what you did and who hired you to do it to Reoh's fiance.
After that we'll instruct you in the Phrenellian retraction ritual.

JILIAM: I've done nothing wrong. I protest this treatment. I have rights.
I'm a Cardassian citizen.

GARAK: For the time being. (OPHIDIA appears) I think I could get the Order
to convince Central Command to reconsider your citizenship status.

JILIAM: Garak, I told you, I haven't worked for the Order in years. I'm
just a simple academic...(ODO snorts; GARAK smiles.)

OPHIDIA: Academic? Dude, I've seen your resume. It's about as convincing as
Ricardo Montalban's chest and just as thickly padded. Either you slept with
your entire rank and tenure committee--

GARAK: Or you are in fact an Obsidian Order plant being funded by them to
carry on internal espionage. I think they'd be interested to know how you're
spending their money, don't you?

OPHIDIA: (reading from a PADD) Thirteen two week vacations to the pleasure
planet Rysa in the past year, seven of these with a female companion named
Koa and six with various other students designated "sub-operatives," entered
under the "covert operations" column.

JILIAM: My expense account! Where did you--

OPHIDIA: Forty thousand credits on alcoholic beverages and thirty in
restaurant and accommodation charges, all entered under "infiltration and
indoctrination." A whopping fifty thousand six hundred and twenty credits
for an in-house holodeck and adult holoprograms, entered under "recruitment
and training."

JILIAM: How did--who--

OPHIDIA: Hell hath no fury like a graduate student scorned, Professor
Jiliam. The originals of those electronic receipts you thought you'd had
altered are all preserved in their pristine glory in a hidden file on
Rakta's hard drive. (JILIAM howls) And don't bother trying to delete it,
it's been downloaded into directories and drives in PADDs, desktops and
mainframes all over this station. If you want to keep the Order in the dark
about your adventures in creative accounting you'll have to keep Mr. Garak
and me pretty happy. And if I were you, I'd double Rakta's stipend and
shorten her work week while you're at it.

GARAK: So. Are you coming to confess, or should I share the results of
Ophidia's informal audit with payroll?

JILIAM: All right! I'll do it!

GARAK: That's the smartest decision I've ever seen you make.
 
*end act IV*

ACT V
 
(KIRA's quarters. REOH is lying on the bed while KIRA and BASHIR watch 
over her. She does not look well.)

BASHIR: Garak is investigating. I'm sure he'll get to the bottom of the
plot, whatever it is. He's very thorough.

KIRA: Cardassians tend to be.

BASHIR: You and Chaulid will have your wedding after all.

REOH: It's over for me. I'm never coming back. I don't want to. But if you
can save Tl'Oane...

KIRA: Don't talk like that. You're stronger than you think.

BASHIR: Your body is holding its own against the strain. If we can just
eliminate the source--

REOH: How is my brother?

BASHIR: Sisko tells me Tl'Oane still isn't well enough to get around, but
he's recovering. I still think it would be dangerous for you to see him. But
de did ask me to tell you that he's sorry for how he acted and that he
believes you are innocent. (REOH sighs. BASHIR's badge beeps)

DAX: Dax to Bashir.

BASHIR: Go ahead.

DAX: Garak wants to see you on the Promenade right away.

BASHIR: I'll be right there. (To REOH) Don't give up. We all believe in
you. (Exits)

REOH: I won't be here when he comes back.

KIRA: Yes you will. You know this shame doesn't belong to you. You're going
to fight it off until it leaves your body alone.

REOH: I can't. It may not belong to me, but I must bear it, and I can only
bear it by dying.

KIRA: No. It's enough. For centuries women on your world have been dying so
that your men can maintain their ridiculous codes and standards. If you
really want to change things for the women who come after you, fight this
thing off. Prove that shame isn't a fate worse than death.

REOH: I'll try. (KIRA takes her hand)

KIRA: I'll help.
 
(The Promenade. GARAK sits in an alcove on the upper deck, composing on a 
PADD)

GARAK: Shall I compare thee to Inabrin Tain?
       Thou art more lovely, and more temperate...
 (Shakes his head, deletes, tries again)
        My lover's eyes are nothing like the sun,
        Except for being round, and sometimes red;
        If snow be white, why then, his cheeks are dun--
(Deletes quickly; tries again)
        One look at that cute ass o' ya,
        And I forget Cardassia--
(Throws the PADD over his shoulder) No, no no no no no. He'll just have to
do without the serenades under his window. I have tried. Nothing rhymes with
"Julian," except for "hooligan," and that's not even a true rhyme. The only
rhyme I can find for "doctor" is "proctor." I don't want a proctor in my
love poetry. Nothing rhymes with "sickbay," either, or "Obsidian." Plus, the
word "prick" keeps finding its way into the most inappropriate places. No,
Cardassia is not a rhyming planet. (BASHIR appears)

GARAK: Why Doctor! How nice of you to drop by. Are you planning to stay 
long?

BASHIR: Till you get tired of me.

GARAK: Stay till then and you'll never see sickbay again.

BASHIR: In that case I'd better escape now. (Pretends to get up; GARAK
takes his hands. Making clearly ineffectual efforts to escape) Too late! I'm
caught in his powerful tractor beam! (GARAK laughs) Maybe if I just send out
a compressed tachyon pulse I can break free! (Pause) Alas. I am trapped.
(Sits down.) But seriously, Garak, have you made any progress?

GARAK: Have I made any progress. Who do you think you're dealing with?

BASHIR: I never know with you.

GARAK: Oh come now, Doctor.

BASHIR: (aghast, looking around at the other people) Now? Here? Are you 
mad?

GARAK: (laughing) Not only have I uncovered every aspect of this diabolical
plot, not only have I obtained conclusive proof that your sister was never
in that bar and that Chaulid was watching a Cardassian agent and a dabo girl
who was hired as a Reoh look-alike, not only have I obtained a confession
from him stating that D'Jonn was in on the whole thing from the beginning,
but I have avenged myself on one of the most pusillanimous little toads the
Obsidian Order ever produced.

BASHIR: Garak! Is this true?

GARAK: Yes, Doctor. The Cardassian agent has been brought to confess to
Chaulid. Dax and O'Brien are on their way to apprehend D'Jonn. Tl'Oane is
organizing a public restoration for Reoh. By tomorrow it will all be put right.

BASHIR: You've done all this...for me.

GARAK: It was nothing.

BASHIR: (overcome) Thank you.

GARAK: And now. As a reward for working so hard to insure a satisfactory
result for all concerned, tell me, Doctor, because it's  been bothering me
all afternoon--for which of my bad qualities did you first fall in love with
me? (BASHIR thinks this over for a moment)

BASHIR: For them all together. (GARAK laughs) Really, Garak, I have so 
many favorites it's impossible to choose. There's your deviousness, your
ruthlessness, your secretive nature, your execrable taste in literature--I
could list faults of yours for hours, each more intoxicating than the last.
But tell me, for which of my many excellent qualities were you first smitten
with love for me?

GARAK: Smitten! An unusually felicitous word choice, Doctor, I *do* feel
exactly as if I'd been hit by a brick. Indeed, I must have sustained some
kind of cranial injury to fall for you, since it goes against every instinct
and inclination I've ever cultivated.

BASHIR: Garak, I would not for the world interfere with your cultivation of
Cardassian virtues. If Cardassia is your first love, I am bound to love it
too, and I would never dream of corrupting one of its citizens. Farewell.
(Rises; Garak detains him; he sits back down)

GARAK: Yes, well, I think you and I had better just forget about the
flirtatious banter stage of courtship, we seem to be rather too good at it
for our own comfort.

BASHIR: Agreed.

GARAK: But tell me. How is your sister?

BASHIR: Not well.

GARAK: And how are you?

BASHIR: Not well either. (GARAK puts an arm around him; BASHIR leans on 
his shoulder)

GARAK: Take heart, love me, and mend. (As things begin to get interesting,
BASHIR's badge beeps)

O'BRIEN: O'Brien to Bashir.

BASHIR: What is it, Chief?

O'BRIEN:We can't locate D'Jonn. The computer says he's not on the station
but no one's transported out or taken a ship since the wedding.

BASHIR: The computer's wrong. Phrenellian life signs are very confusing.
He's hiding somewhere on the station.

O'BRIEN: All right, Doctor. We'll keep looking. O'Brien out.

GARAK: This is an unfortunate development.

BASHIR: Not necessarily. I'll find him. (Gets up)

GARAK: How?

BASHIR: It shouldn't be hard, I'll just follow the smell. You get in to
Reoh and tell her the news; that'll give her the strength to continue. I'll
be there as soon as I can. (Runs off toward the turbolift)
 
(GARAK enters KIRA's quarters. He is surprised to find REOH sitting up and
playing some kind of Bajoran board game with KIRA.)

GARAK: Goodness. You look well.

REOH: I feel much better, thanks to Nerys.

GARAK: Well, then, I suppose it won't matter so much that we've found the
people who framed you and we have enough evidence to clear your name.
(REOH, crazed with joy, leaps up and hugs GARAK, who is somewhat 
surprised.  She realizes after a moment that she is embracing a stranger male, 
and draws back, casting her eyes down again.)

REOH: Nerys, will you speak to him for me?

KIRA: Reoh, do you think this is really necessary? After all you've been
through--

REOH: Please. (KIRA growls) Ask him how it was done.

KIRA: She wants to know how it was done.

GARAK: D'JOnn arranged to have a Cardassian and a woman who looked like
Reoh together in Quark's at the time he and Chaulid were passing. Chaulid
thought the other woman was Reoh.

REOH: Ask him if Chaulid still believes me to be guilty.

KIRA: She wants to know if that blockhead she's engaged to still doesn't
have the sense the Prophets gave a yamuck stalk.

GARAK: Chaulid knows Reoh's innocent and feels like the fool he is. He has
promised to marry Reoh again if she still wants him.

REOH: Tell him I have to think about it.

KIRA: She says tell him she's not sure yet whether she's learned anything
from this experience.

GARAK: Yes, I'll pass that right along. Stay well, this will all be over
soon. (He exits. Outside, we see GARAK think for a moment, then run over to
a computer terminal and start looking things up)
 
(We now move to a corridor leading to one of the launching pads. A muffled
figure barrels down it at high speed, clutching a satchel and hiding his
face with a hood. He presses the pad to open the airlock; it doesn't. He
produces one of those lock-blowing gadgets, applies it to the airlock, and
is in the process of blowing it when BASHIR appears behind him, pointing a
phaser at his head.)

BASHIR: Step away from the airlock. (D'JONN does.) Bashir to O'Brien. I've
got him.

O'BRIEN: Where are you?

BASHIR: The airlock leading to launching pad C. (D'JONN moves) Stay where
you are!

D'JONN: Or what? You'll fire? You need me alive for the restoration
ceremony if you want to save Reoh. (O'BRIEN, DAX and SISKO appear behind
him, phasers aimed. At this moment the airlock blows. During the momentary
distraction D'JONN grabs BASHIR and his phaser, puts it to BASHIR's head,
and back up toward the now-open airlock dragging BASHIR with him as a
hostage) Follow me and he's a dead doctor. (As he approaches the airlock,
GARAK steps through from the other side, gets an arm around D'JONN's neck
and seizes the phaser with the other, and slams him into the side of the
passage, putting the phaser to his head)

GARAK: You *really* shouldn't have done that, D'Jonn. Now you've made me
angry. (Several yellowshirts arrive and take custody of D'JONN, marching him
down the corridor. The others move off toward the Promenade)

SISKO: Congratulations, Garak, It seems you're one step ahead of us.

GARAK: On the contrary, I was merely acting on a hint tipped to me by the
good doctor.

BASHIR: Me?

GARAK: Lately I've become interested in medicine, and I've been reading up
on your reports from the Phrenellian study.

BASHIR: So you knew about the odor.

GARAK: Yes. When it's severe enough, concealed guilt manifests itself in
Phrenellian males as a topical skin inflammation that emits a noxious odor.
D'Jonn's managed to mask it so far, but I reasoned that with murder and
treason eating at him, he must be getting a little whiffy. I accessed the
station logs to find out if there were any complaints about a stench and
discovered that this morning before the wedding one of the maintenance crews
for the Rio Grande reported a mysterious rank smell in the cockpit. So I
knew he'd come down here to plan his escape.

SISKO: I'm surprised to see you taking such an active interest in all this,
Garak. What exactly have you got at stake here? (DAX and O'BRIEN look at 
BASHIR)

GARAK: When the fortunes of Cardassia are involved I'm always interested,
Commander. I have no wish to see Cardassia try to bring Phrenellia into the
Empire. The last attempt was an unrelieved disaster.

SISKO: And I'm sure that was your only motivation.

GARAK: Naturally. I may be only a simple tailor, but I do love my homeworld.

SISKO: Well, I'll see you all tomorrow at the restoration ceremony. (He,
Dax, and O'Brien all move off in various directions, leaving BASHIR and
GARAK staring at each other in the middle of the deserted Promenade)

BASHIR: Well. Garak.

GARAK: Well. Doctor.

BASHIR: You've had a long day.

GARAK: Yes, I have, but strangely enough, I'm not the least bit tired.

BASHIR: Really.

GARAK: Indeed.

BASHIR: So what have you got planned for the rest of the evening?

GARAK: Goodness, I don't know. I'll have to check my calendar. (Reaches
into his pocket) Do you know, Doctor, I've just remembered--I left it back
in my quarters.

BASHIR: Why don't I go with you. That way we can look at it together.
(GARAK smiles) Well, somebody's got to keep you honest.

GARAK: And you're just the man for the job.

BASHIR: Exactly. (They walk off together.)

(The next morning. OPHIDIA, carrying a stringed instrument, a traveling bag
and some sheet music, approaches DAX's quarters and knocks.)

OPHIDIA: You ready, Dax?

DAX: Just a minute. (Door opens and she emerges with a PADD and a mug)
Quark's has the best coffee, but it's still closed for interrogation. How do
you feel about the replicators on the Promenade?

OPHIDIA: Sounds like a plan. (They proceed down the corridors)

DAX: So how'd your gig go at the Songfest?

OPHIDIA: The audience seemed to be enjoying themselves, although I'm not
sure they were paying much attention. Is it normal for everyone to be
groping each other during--

DAX: Oh yes. But that doesn't mean they weren't listening. In fact, if most
of your audience was making out, that's a very good sign.

OPHIDIA: Well, I must have gone over all right, then. I'm sorry I missed
all the excitement at the wedding, though. I got back just after it was all
over.

DAX: Don't be sorry. It was awful. I've never seen anyone so--(breaks off
in mid-sentence. OPHIDIA follows her sight line and spots BASHIR emerging
from GARAK's quarters. He has a serious case of bedhead and is hastily
donning the shirt of his wedding suit, attempting simultaneously, with
limited success, to put on the jacket.)

BASHIR: (to GARAK, who we are to understand is still concealed within the
room) No, really, I absolutely have to go this instant. I'm in the ceremony.
(Inaudible reply from GARAK) Now look. I'm not falling for that again. Last
time you said "one more minute," and that was half an hour ag--(another
unintelligible response. Cracking a smile) Yes, I did, but that's not the
point. I'm late as it is--(reacting to the still-invisible Garak) Oh,
*please* don't do that. You know I can't resist--(making a final effort)
Look. I really do have to--(from inside we hear GARAK laughing. BASHIR's
resolve weakens, then evaporates. Removing his jacket, he reenters the room
precipitately and the doors close. Camera returns to DAX, who has been
watching, agog)

DAX: I've seen it...but I'm not sure I believe it.

OPHIDIA: C'mon, Dax, let's go get you a nice soothing cup of coffee. (Leads
the still-in-shock Dax down the corridor) You didn't really think it would
work this well, did you?

DAX: This is going to take some getting used to.
 
(The same room in which the wedding was held, with the same crowd. The
altar is there, but not decorated. CHAULID, dressed in gray, kneels on one
side with his head bowed. SISKO, O'BRIEN, KIRA and ODO sit together in the
audience.)

SISKO: Odo! Are you starting to take an interest in humanoid romance after all?

ODO: I don't particularly care about the lovers, Commander. I'm here to
take down the confessions for my files.

KIRA: I'm glad you're feeling better, Odo.

ODO: You're not the only one.

KIRA: How'd you get over it?

ODO: I spent the night as an Andorian condor. Very refreshing. (DAX enters
with OPHIDIA. They sit with the others)

DAX: Well, at least you'll get to see the second wedding.

KIRA: I can't *believe* she's still marrying him.

OPHIDIA: Well, you can't expect the revolution to happen overnight. (GARAK,
looking happy but extremely tired, enters and sits by SISKO.)

SISKO: Good morning, Mr. Garak. Sleep well?

GARAK: Good morning, Commander. Might I have a word? (Draws him to one 
side)

O'BRIEN: You owe me a Tanarian Sunrise, Dax.

DAX: We don't know for sure that he's planning--

SISKO: Of *course* it's still valid if you're both males. This isn't the
twentieth century, Garak.

O'BRIEN: I smell a proposal in the wind.

DAX: You don't get a drop until I see the wedding certificate, Chief.

OPHIDIA: They certainly move fast. Are there any other developments in this
saga I should know about?

DAX: Look at this. (Hands her a PADD. As she reads it, the procession
enters. JILIAM and D'JONN, stripped to the waist with their hands bound in
front of them, are marched forward by BASHIR and Tl'OANE, respectively. 
The PRIEST, dressed in black and carrying a pot of ashes, follows them, leading
REOH, who is completely obscured by a floor-length black veil. REOH stands
on one side of the altar. TL'OANE and BASHIR force the other two to kneel
facing the altar as the PRIEST walks around behind it. They then withdraw to
stand in front of REOH.)

PRIEST: Who calls these men false?

TL'OANE: I do.

BASHIR: And I. (The PRIEST scatters ashes on the heads of JILIAM and 
D'JONN.)

PRIEST: Whose house have their words blackened?

TL'OANE: My house.

BASHIR: And mine.

PRIEST: What do you seek from them?

TL'OANE: Confession.

BASHIR: Retraction.

TL'OANE: Restoration.

PRIEST: Jiliam the stranger, stand forth. (JILIAM gets up) Confess the harm
that you have done. (JILIAM looks around, hesitating. He spots OPHIDIA in
the audience, who smiles and waves a PADD at him cheerfully. He gulps and
turns back to the PRIEST)

JILIAM: I deceived the sight of Chaulid of Garano by causing a woman to
counterfeit his intended bride's appearance and to couple with me in a place
where I knew he would see us.

PRIEST: Confess the harm that you intended.

JILIAM: To cause the sister of Tl'Oane to be shamed at her wedding, with
the result that Tl'Oane of Missna would withdraw from political life, making
it possible for D'Jonn to ascend and, in return for my assistance, allow
Cardassia to advance its interests on Phrenellia. (There is an outcry from
the Phrenellian spectators and several attempt to rush D'JONN, but are
restrained by security guards.)

PRIEST: D'Jonn of Garano, stand forth. (D'JONN is hauled to his feet by
TL'OANE) Confess the harm that you have done. (He is silent. PRIEST strikes
him) Confess the harm that you have done. (CHAULID rises)

CHAULID: I answer for him. He led me to believe that my bride was false to
me when she was not. He brought me to see the stranger and a woman
counterfeit my bride's treason. At the wedding he denounced her, speaking
what he knew to be lies.

PRIEST: Confess the harm that you intended.

CHAULID: To ruin my marriage, to destroy the house of Missna, and to
further his own political ambitions.

PRIEST: Retract the words that caused this harm.

JILIAM and CHAULID: Let what I have spoken be forgotten. Let my words be
blotted from the heavens' record. What I said in this place was untrue. Let
it blacken only my own name.

PRIEST: So be it. The honor of the woman you slandered has been restored,
with all her house. Let the wounds you inflicted be felt in your own hearts
and bodies ten times over. You are cast out of the Phrenellian houses. Leave
this place, for it is sacred. (Two Phrenellians attendants haul JILIAm and
D'JONN up the aisle and out of the room, as the Phrenellian contingent hurls
insults and objects at them.) Bring forth the woman to be restored. (TL'OANE
leads REOH to the altar) Your chastity, your name and your sex are restored
to you. Live a clean woman. (He removes her veil. KIRA groans.) Whose house
gives up this woman?

TL'OANE: Mine does.

BASHIR: And mine.

PRIEST: Whose house receives her?

TL'OANE: Chaulid of Garano's.

PRIEST: Do you, Chaulid of Garano, take this woman into your house.

CHAULID: If she will enter it, she is welcome.

PRIEST: Reoh, sister of Tl'Oane of Missna, will you enter his house?

REOH: I will.

PRIEST: You are one. May the winds bless you. (They kiss. There is much
rejoicing. Tl'OANE and CHAULID embrace. The PRIEST leads the way up the
aisle, followed by the married couple, then by Tl'Oane. They exit. The crowd
begins to break up. BASHIR moves off to be congratulated by some of the
sickbay staff, who are sitting in a different section from the other
officers. GARAK runs down to the altar)

GARAK: Ah, Commander...before you all leave...(SISKO and the other officers
turn around)

SISKO: Yes, Mr. Garak?

GARAK: Commander, as we discussed, I require your assistance in--wait a
minute, where's Julian? (Uproarious laughter from the officers. BASHIR 
advances.

BASHIR: I answer to that name. What can I do for you?

GARAK: Well--(notices the officers waiting expectantly.) Doctor, do you not
love me?

BASHIR: (Coyly) Why no, not really.

GARAK: Well, then, Sisko and O'Brien are laboring under a grievous
misapprehension; they said you did.

SISKO: (to himself) Oh dear.

O'BRIEN: Oops.

BASHIR: No, it's you who love me, if I'm not mistaken.

GARAK: Ha! God no, not *really.*

BASHIR: It would appear in that case that Kira and Dax are sadly mistaken,
since they swore you did. (He glares at KIRA; she glares at DAX, who shrugs)

GARAK: They told me you were sick with love for me!

BASHIR: They swore that you were well-nigh dead for me!

GARAK: They lied profusely! (Both of them are beginning to feel the
emotional impact of this revelation) Then--you do not love me?

BASHIR: Why--no--no more than as a friend. (They stare at each other in
great perplexity and unhappiness. Cut to OPHIDIA)

OPHIDIA: If Paramount thinks they're getting off the hook this way, they've
go t another think coming. (Advances to the altar, waving a PADD) Ladies and
gentlemen, I'd like to share with you a little something Dax pulled off
rec.alt.cardiefanciers this morning. It's a composition in verse entitled
"Ode to a Scrumptious Tailor" and it begins--

BASHIR: GIVE ME THAT!! (Before he can grab it GARAK plucks it from her
hands and holds it out of BASHIR's reach, taunting him as he lunges for it.
O'BRIEN meanwhile abstracts a PADD from GARAK's pocket)

O'BRIEN: And what have we here? It seems to be partially in free verse,
but...yes! I do detect a bit of a rhyme scheme, and it's definitely metric!
It is indubitably a poem! And it's called...let's see...it's called, "O
Doctor, My Doctor."

GARAK: NOOOOOOO!!

O'BRIEN: (reading) "O Doctor, my Doctor, won't you palpate my--" (GARAK
makes a grab for it; BASHIR nabs it instead. They fall to reading their
respective tributes)

OPHIDIA: Gentlemen, poetry doesn't lie. Man has no greater love than that
he will wrestle with rhyme for his friend. (GARAK and BASHIR are comparing
notes and complimenting each other on particular passages)

GARAK: Alas. Written evidence on both sides. It seems they've got us dead
to rights. Well...come on, Doctor. (Tucks PADD into his vest) I will marry
you after all, though I swear to you it's only out of pity.

BASHIR: (Stashing his PADD) All right, Garak, but you're just lucky I'm a
doctor, because I'm only doing it to save your life. (They kiss. Much
rejoicing.)

ODO: I must say I never thought I would live to see you settle down here,
Garak. What if you get that communique from Central Command that you've 
been waiting for all this time?

GARAK: I'll tell  you what, Odo, if Enabrin Tain came back from the dead
right now and offered me his job on a platter I wouldn't take it.
(Considers) Well, not unless they could get Julian a job in the central
hospital.

BASHIR: If you think I'm moving to Cardassia for you--

GARAK: Don't worry Doctor. (Dead serious) They'll never ask me back. And
I'll never go. My home is where you are. (Kiss. Rejoicing.)

BASHIR: Let's get this wedding on the move. Sisko, I take it you're the
celebrant. Chief, will you be my best man?

O'BRIEN: I'd be honored. (ODO is escaping up the aisle)

GARAK: Don't go anywhere, Odo, you're the maid of honor. (KIRA runs up 
and drags him back, protesting all the way. The wedding party sorts itself out.
DAX approaches OPHIDIA, who has dropped back)

DAX: Phidder, how about a little processional music?

OPHIDIA: At your service. (Tunes up her instrument. During the first verse
the ceremony is conducted, with processional, etc., ODO initially resisting
but gradually accepting his role. She sings:)
 
                Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,
                Though Bashir's out of reach forever.
                It's true he'll romp
                With Dax no more,
                Nor Kira and Dukat together.
                Yet sigh not so,
                But let him go,
                And be you blithe and bonny,
                Converting all
                Your sounds of woe
                Into hey, nonny nonny.
 
(The marriage is completed; everyone congratulates the two of them,
including ODO, who, influenced by DAX and KIRA, has gone weepy. 
O'BRIEN, in an expansive moment, crushes BASHIR in a bear hug)

O'BRIEN: Congratulations, Julian. I love you. I really mean that. I'm happy
for both of you. Onward to Quark's for the reception! (General shout of
enthusiasm)

ODO: Let me get him out of the brig first. (ODO runs up the aisle, followed
by the others, as OPHIDIA sings the next verse)
 
                Sing no more ditties, sing no more
                Laments so sad and sorry,
                This whole thing is
                Non-canon lore,
                Just one of a thousand stories.
                Then sigh not so,
                But let them go,
                And be you blithe and bossy,
                Converting all
                Your sounds of woe
                Into tales of caramel sauce-y.
 
(The room is now empty. OPHIDIA bows, winks at the camera, and snaps her
fingers. Blackout and credits.)
 
 
                                THE END

******************
“It's a hundred and six miles to Chicago. We got a full tank of gas, it's
dark, and we're wearing sunglasses."
"Let's roll."
         --Elwood and Jake Blues, *The Blues Brothers*
******************