One more story in The Claiming series.  

Summary: Julian's parents drop in at DS9 to
try to break up their son's marriage to Garak.

Note: These are not Julian's parents from DBIP, but 
the parents I imagined him having before that episode
aired.  If I were to cast them, Ambassador Bashir 
would be John Rhys Davies ("Sliders," DaVinci on 
"Voyager," "Raiders of the Lost Ark"), and Dr. 
Elizabeth Bashir as Nicola Paget ("Upstairs, 
Downstairs").

Expect more angst than sex, and some hurtful 
things said in the context of a dysfunctional 
family setting.  Rated PG for the inexplicit 
m/m pairing.

Place this story near the end of DS9's third season,
a month or so after the events in "Improbable Cause"/
The Die is Cast."

And, and always, thanks to the usual bunch of
G/B'ers for their help, support, and kind words.



Kit

-=*)]![(*=--=*)]![(*=--=*)]![(*=--=*)]![(*=-

Inlaws/Outlaws (DS9 - G/B, PG) 
Kathryn Ramage
July 1998

Paramount owns Star Trek, DS9, and the characters
except for the Bashirs. This story was written
for personal amusement and should not be taken as
intended copyright infringement or indeed anything
but entertainment for people who enjoy this sort 
of thing.

-=*)]I[(*=-

"Mother, this is Elim Garak.  Elim, my mother, Dr. 
Elizabeth Bashir."

"Dr. Bashir," Garak gave her a slight bow and a 
disarming smile, but Julian could see that he was a 
little nervous and anxious to make a favorable 
impression.  

This first introduction was never the most comfortable 
experience for anyone, even in the best of circumstances, 
and since the Bashirs had announced their pending 
visit immediately after news of their son's Federation-
sanctioned marriage to a Cardassian exile was made 
public, neither Garak nor Bashir expected this to be a 
friendly meeting.  Nevertheless, the forms of courtesy 
must be preserved: Cardassians placed a special 
emphasis on family relationships, and the mother and 
father of one's spouse were due the highest deference 
and gestures of respect.  

"It's a pleasure to meet you," the tailor continued.  
"Julian speaks of you so often."

"Mr. Garak." His mother elegantly offered her hand;
even in rumpled travel clothes, with strands of her 
dark hair slipped loose from her elaborate coif and 
hints of weariness around her thick-lashed violet-grey 
eyes, she was an extremely elegant woman.  "I wish I 
could say that Jules has told me all about you as well. 
Unfortunately, my son has always been reticent about 
his personal life.  In spite of Jules' silence, however,
I *have* heard a great deal about you.  I must confess, 
I've wanted to meet you for some time."

Poor Elim, thought Julian, as the tailor's eyes flickered 
uncertainly; he didn't know if Mother had just paid him 
a compliment or had insulted them both.

Julian knew.

"Ah- Where's Father?" he asked.  "I thought he was 
coming on this trip with you."

"Your father went up to the Operations Center once we 
disembarked," the elder Dr. Bashir answered him.  "He 
wanted to pay his respects to your commander."

-=*)]![(*=-

"Commander Sisko, have you lost your mind?"  
Ambassador Richard Bashir thundered.  He was a large 
man, dark-eyed and bearded, with an imposing physical 
presence and a deep, rolling voice that carried quite 
well when raised.  "How could you permit this 
`marriage' to take place?"

"There wasn't much I could do to prevent it," Sisko 
replied evenly.  "Your son is 30 years old--well over the 
age of consent--and the Federation has no laws forbidding 
same-sex nor interspecies marriages, even where 
Cardassians are concerned."

"You performed the ceremony."

"They asked."  Sisko's face remained deadpan as 
the ambassador blustered on the other side of his 
desk.  He hadn't looked forward to the arrival of 
Julian's parents on DS9, but at least he'd prepared for 
this conversation.  "My refusal wouldn't have changed 
their minds.  They had already been married for ten 
months according to Cardassian customs.  I wasn't 
happy about it at first either, but ultimately it is 
your son's decision and we have to abide by it no 
matter what our personal feelings are.  I couldn't 
have done more to stop my own son under the same 
circumstances."

"I feel quite certain that if *your* son were in this 
situation, Commander Sisko, you would have done a 
little bit more," the ambassador said dryly.

This was very likely true, but Sisko didn't rise to the 
bait.

"I've taken the liberty of gathering some information on 
my `son-in-law,'" Ambassador Bashir continued.  "His 
connection to the Cardassian secret service.  His 
alleged activities as a spy on this space station.  The 
rumors about his past professions."

"I've heard the same rumors," answered Sisko. "So 
has Julian."

"And they don't alarm him?"

"I think they do.  Ambassador, this relationship has 
been unstable from the beginning.  If it's any comfort to 
you, I don't think it will last for very long--two years, 
three, five at the outside.  Right now, it seems to be 
based primarily on a physical attraction.  When things 
cool down..."  he let the sentence trail away unfinished.  
Ambassador Bashir had probably been tormenting 
himself with thoughts of his little boy being ravished 
by the Cardassian menace since he'd first heard about 
Julian's relationship with Garak.  Why exacerbate the 
situation by planting fresh images in the man's mind?

"Starfleet Intelligence has been keeping an eye on 
Garak," Sisko went on.  "And while his presence here 
has always been suspect, we've never found any 
conclusive evidence that he's a threat to Federation 
security.  I don't believe he's any danger to Julian."

In the months following Bashir's abduction and torture
by the Obsidian Order, Sisko had had many opportunities
to talk with Garak about the doctor's recovery.  As
he'd listened to Garak describe Bashir's nightmares and 
fears, his panicked responses to certain situations, 
he'd learned more about the couple's private life than 
he really wanted to know, but he had come away from these
confidential conversations with the impression that
Garak was genuinely concerned with Bashir's well-being. 
Although he still had a multitude of suspicions 
regarding the Cardassian, Sisko was reassured that Julian
was not being harmed.  

The ambassador did not find this comforting.  "If you 
won't take the necessary measures," he answered, 
"then I will."

*I'd like to see you try,* thought Sisko.  He had 
tried to discourage Bashir from continuing the 
relationship in its early days, but he had since
discovered that the young man could be surprisingly 
intractable. Given Julian's determination to stay 
with Garak in the face of all opposition, it seemed 
unlikely that even *this* overbearing parent could 
force him to retreat. 

-=*)]![(*=-

After the first exchange of stilted courtesies, Garak 
made some flimsy excuse about his shop and left 
Julian alone with his mother.

"*Coward*," Julian had hissed under his breath as he 
walked with Garak to the door, but he didn't try to 
make him stay.

The elder Dr. Bashir was wandering around the 
quarters, examining the Cardassian trinkets and 
mementos with a polite, detached interest, as if she 
were viewing artifacts in a museum; she paused only 
at the ragged teddy bear set high on one shelf.

Julian watched her nervously and waited until he 
could endure the silence no longer.

"If you're planning to insult my husband," he told her, 
"I'm warning you now that I won't stand for it."

She turned to him.  "I wouldn't dream of abusing him 
to you, dear," she answered, as if it were the furthest 
thing from her mind.  "Your...`husband,' Mr. Garak, 
seems to be an extremely pleasant man.  Did he 
decorate this room?  He has remarkable taste.  Not 
what I expected." She paused.  "No, that's not true. I 
didn't know what to expect at all.  I couldn't imagine 
the kind of man..."

A recent holo-portrait of Julian caught her eye and she 
took it down to examine more closely: In it, Julian wore 
a tunic of lush ivory velvet with an elaborate braidwork 
of gold ribbon down the sleeves and front, and blood 
red stones set into the fabric.  He was embracing an 
enormous bouquet of equally red flowers and his eyes 
were shining out over them as he gazed into the 
imager with a hint of a smile.  She began to smile 
herself, then realized it was his wedding portrait, and 
put it back quickly.

"You might have told us yourself," she said.

"I didn't think you'd react very well to my happy news."

"What sort of response do you imagine I might have 
had, Jules?"  He knew that tone--the scolding, sadly 
disappointed one. "We heard the first rumors months 
ago: You had taken up with a Cardassian male twice 
your age.  People said that you were living with him, 
that you called yourself a bonded couple. I didn't know 
what to believe.  You never answered my messages.  
Your father began to gather whatever information he 
could about your Mr. Garak.  Then we were informed 
by Starfleet--and not by you, I hasten to add--
that you'd actually married your Cardassian. Oh, Jules, 
you were always a peculiar child, but *this* escapade 
surpasses my wildest expectations."

"Peculiar," Julian said quietly.  "Now where do you 
suppose I got that from?"

His mother overlooked this pointed allusion.  "I wish I
understood this propensity of yours to settle for less
than the full potential of your abilities.  You might have
had so much more.  Valedictorian of your class.  A
magnificent career.  You know your father would have
been happy to help you obtain any position in Starfleet
Medical you desired--and yet you chose to come *here*.
You could have had anyone you wanted."

"I have the one I want," he answered.  "And this is 
the life I want.  I know you it doesn't meet with your 
expectations, but I'm the one who has to be happy 
with it."

"And are you happy, my darling?" she sounded 
skeptical.

"Yes, very."

-=*)]![(*=-

When Elizabeth Bashir entered the quarters assigned to
her on the other side of the station, her husband was
already there.   

"How is the boy?" he asked her, barely glancing up 
from the comm terminal he sat scowling over.

"He's well.  He insists he's happy."

The ambassador snorted at this.  "Did you see the 
other one?"

"Yes, he was there. You'll meet him tonight at dinner."  
As she shed the long coat of her traveling costume, 
the computer beeped and informed them that Admiral 
Brachour was not presently in his office.

"Admiral Brachour?  Richard..." the elder Dr. Bashir 
used the same disappointed tone she had when 
scolding her son.  "Haven't I told you a dozen times
that *that* won't help?"

"Well, I have to do something.  I spoke to the station's 
commander--that blasted fool has practically handed 
the boy over..." The ambassador made a deep, 
disgusted sound in the back of his throat.  "If you 
can think of a better way to get our son out of 
the mess he's thrown himself into, I'd be delighted to 
hear it."

"I only wish I did," Elizabeth Bashir sighed.  "But I do 
know that whatever we do, we must bring Jules to his 
right senses without coercion.  Forcing him out of this 
`marriage' simply won't work."

-=*)]![(*=-

"You have your mother's eyes," Garak told Julian soon 
after he returned to their quarters. The doctor had been
sitting in the window when Garak had come in, his legs 
drawn up close to himself; Garak, sensing that the 
reunion with his mother had not gone well, made the 
first overtures of conversation in a deceptively chatty 
tone.  "They're a different color, but the similarity is 
really very distinctive.  I can see the resemblance to her 
quite clearly--your voice, your mannerisms, the shape 
of your cheekbones and your jaw."

"I've been told I take after her," Julian answered. 

"Did you decide to become a doctor because of her?"

"No, not exactly.  I spent a lot of my childhood under 
doctors' care.  They frightened me at first, when I was 
very small.  Then as I got older, I began to be curious 
about what they did.  I wanted to know what they knew." 
He wound his arms around his knees and rested his
chin on his hands. "Mother was so proud when I 
decided to study medicine. She thought I meant to 
follow in her footsteps."

"And what about your father? Do you 'take after' him?"

"In some ways.  You'll see soon enough.  We're 
having dinner with them--I thought we'd go out to 
eat on the Promenade instead of staying here.  My mother
and father are not the sort of people who make scenes in 
public.  The Bolian restaurant... No. Klingon." He 
smiled to himself at the thought of his parents being 
served live serpent-worms.

"I'm looking forward to it."  Then, after a moment's 
pause, Garak went on, "I'm sorry that I've created this 
rift between you and your family."

Julian sighed.  "It's not your fault, Elim.  The rift was 
there long before I met you. This is just the latest round 
in a series of battles that have been going on since I 
was in my teens."

"I thought there might be something," said Garak.  
"You've always been reluctant to talk about your parents.  
You change the subject whenever someone brings them up." 
He smiled.  "In this one respect, you're as secretive as 
I am about the past."

"It's just not a subject I enjoy talking about. We're not 
close.  We never have been." 

When Garak held out a hand to him, he unfurled his 
legs and leapt down from the window to join his 
mate on the sofa.  At a few gentle, encouraging tugs, 
he climbed into Garak's lap.

He used to feel strange, even silly, when Garak had 
first cuddled him this way.  He was a grown man, after 
all.  Too old for this sort of thing.  But he liked it.  
Perhaps he needed it.  Even now, long after he'd 
recovered from the trauma of his abduction by the 
Obsidian Order, he still welcomed the sense of 
security he felt while lying in Elim's arms.  Here, he 
felt protected.  Accepted.  Loved.  These were exactly 
the things he'd never received from his parents in 
abundance.  

He'd never denied--even before he and Elim had 
become lovers--that he was seeking a substitute.

Had his father ever held him this way?  Julian couldn't 
remember a single instance.  Mother?  Yes, when he 
was very small--he recalled *that* much from his early 
childhood--but then she had stopped just when he'd 
needed her comfort the most.

He shifted slightly and reached up to slip his arms 
around Garak's shoulders--and wished, as he so often 
did during these interludes, that he was smaller.  He 
had to scrunch down to tuck his head against Elim's 
shoulder, and his legs were too long to curl up without 
inadvertently putting a knee into the tailor's ribs.

"It's only for a few days," he whispered near Elim's ear, 
to reassure them both.  "I know they're both likely to 
say some nasty things, but the worst they can do is 
disapprove of us."

"Can you live with that?  Your parents' disapproval?"  
Garak sounded somewhat incredulous.

"Believe me, it doesn't matter."  

A kiss, fierce enough to show Elim how little it 
mattered to him, then he ducked down again to nuzzle 
the ridge under his mate's left ear until he ran into
the high tunic collar.  His fingers hooked into the
collar-fastener, tugged it open to expose the silvery 
scales at the base of the throat.

"It doesn't matter at all."  

His tongue dipped into the spoon-shaped formation atop
Elim's breastbone.

The door chimed.  Julian lifted his head.

Garak was prepared to let him go, knowing it must 
be Julian's parents returned, but Julian showed no 
inclination to climb off.  With a dangerous, impish 
glitter in his eyes, he called out,  "Come in!"

The door whisked open; the Bashirs stepped in, 
stopped abruptly, and regarded the scene with 
horror.

Eyes still glittering, Julian smiled at them over the
back of the sofa.  "You're a little bit early," he
said.  "We weren't expecting you yet.  Father, this 
is Elim."

-=*)]II[(*=-

*That* could've gone better," Julian said once they were 
back at their quarters.  He kicked off his boots in the 
living area and went straight into the bedroom.  It was 
still early, barely 2300, but he felt as if this had been 
the longest and most wearying day of his life.

The evening had never recovered after that defiant 
introduction.  It was his own fault; he knew that.  
His first impulse was to flaunt his relationship with 
Garak whenever he met with disapproval.  It was 
usually an effective tactic, but this time, discretion 
might have worked better.  From the moment his father, 
an accomplished diplomat, had acknowledged Elim 
with no more than an icy glare, Julian knew he had 
taken a serious misstep.   He'd made the situation 
more hostile than it needed to be.  While they 
were out in public, everyone was well-behaved; he'd 
even introduced his mother and father to Dax, Kira 
and Odo when they met each in turn on the Promenade
without a hint of awkwardness.  There had been no 
insults, nor even one nasty accusation, but his 
parents had remained rigidly formal throughout
dinner. 

Father had barely spoken at all except to make pointed 
allusions to Garak's profession, and he did not mean 
tailoring.  Mother, always more subtle, had kept 
up the conversation with a variety of topics, although
she seemed to be playing some sort of game in which 
she refused to acknowledge his marriage.  Even when 
she asked personal questions--how long he and Garak 
had known each other, how had they met--her phrasing 
suggested that Garak might just as easily be his 
friend as his spouse.  
  
Julian knew his parents were never going to accept his 
choice, but he wished he had not deliberately provoked 
them.  The dinner might have gone a little more easily, 
and he would not feel so sick to his stomach and 
dreadfully tired right now.

Garak had followed him into the bedroom.  

"I rather enjoyed myself," he said.  "Your mother is a 
charming woman.  She despises me thoroughly, but her 
manners are exquisite and I found her a delightful 
dinner companion."

"You see now where I get that from."

"Hm...yes.  Your father, on the other hand-"  Garak 
shook his head.  He unfastened his tunic as Julian 
went into the bathroom to wash up.   "Dearest," the 
tailor continued with a speculative glance at the open 
door, "I hope you won't be offended, but if I had had to 
ask *him* for you, I would have been too terrified to 
say a word.  Now, Commander Sisko was most obliging 
when I spoke to him."

Bashir popped his head back out the doorway.  "You 
asked Commander Sisko--'for me'?  When did you do 
that?"

"When I asked him if he'd be so kind as to perform our 
Federation wedding ceremony.  It seemed presumptuous 
to request one without the other.  Since I failed to 
consult him before those first bonding rites on 
Cardassia Prime, I thought it only appropriate to make 
the gesture as long as I had a second chance.  I hope 
you don't mind.  It is a tradition among my people: A 
serious suitor, or his representatives, has to make a 
formal petition to his chosen one's father.  Commander 
Sisko has always acted in that role with you."

"Er- yes."

"I understand that many of your old Earth cultures 
once had similar customs," Garak continued casually.  
"Once I introduced the subject, the commander and I 
had a most enlightening discussion.  Did you know 
that money, goods, and even livestock were once 
exchanged in matrimonial negotiations?  Sheep, for 
example, or camels."

Julian kept his head down; he knew he would burst out 
laughing if he met Elim's eyes--though, for all he knew, 
Garak and Sisko had actually had this ridiculous 
conversation.  "And how much did you end up paying 
Commander Sisko to take me off his hands?" he tried 
not to smile.  

"Oh, he was extremely generous and agreed to waive 
all exchanges.  He really didn't have a choice, since 
you had been with me for some time.  In fact,
Commander Sisko invoked an old Starfleet adage--
no doubt you're familiar with it--'Why bother to close 
the bay doors after the shuttlecraft has been stolen?'"

Bashir couldn't help laughing then--the whole thing was 
too silly to listen to with a straight face--but as he 
did, he felt that sick heaviness which had settled in 
his chest and stomach lessen just a little.  

"So you see why I prefer dealing with Sisko," Garak 
concluded triumphantly.  "Your own father would 
never have been so accommodating."

Julian gave him a grateful smile.  "You've been 
wonderful about this.   They're so horrible to you, 
and you don't seem to resent it at all." 

"Oh, it's nothing," Garak assured him.  "I consider 
myself fortunate that your family has been so civilized 
about the whole matter and hasn't tried to have me 
killed.  And I am able to sympathize with their feelings
--*I* wouldn't want a child of mine to marry someone 
like me either."  He pulled on a pair of pajama bottoms.
As he climbed into bed, he regarded the doctor, who 
was undressing at the other side of the room, with a 
more serious expression.  "Tell me, Julian, when you 
first became involved with me, were you thinking of 
gaining some kind of revenge against them?"

"Oh, no!" Julian protested, eyes wide.  He'd only meant
to parade the relationship before his parents--and 
perhaps to show them that *someone* did care about 
him--but now he realized how his actions might look to 
Garak.  "Elim, no.  You're not my revenge.  If anything, 
you're my compensation.  You see, you- uh- love me.  
My parents don't."

Anyone else would have been shocked and disbelieving 
at this statement; Garak only asked, "Why?"

"I'm a disappointment to them.  I always have been.  
My parents are perfectionists, and I'm...not perfect."

Here, he stopped.  He had come too close to the truth.

He slipped into bed, but rather than cuddle close, he 
remained propped on one elbow and considered his 
mate from a half-meter's distance.  For a long time 
now, he'd been debating whether or not to tell.  He 
hated to carry on this deliberate deception and yet, at 
the same time, he knew that some secrets were better 
kept buried deeply.   If he spoke the words, Elim might 
despise him--and he'd only be the first of many.

Bashir had mentally rehearsed his confession a 
hundred times, composed scenarios in which he 
confided his secret to the people he trusted most--the 
ones he thought had a right to know:  His commanding 
officer.  His closest friends.  His spouse.  In these 
imagined scenes, he could almost convince himself 
that it wouldn't make a difference.  Sisko would 
continue to support him.  Miles and Jadzia would 
remain his friends.  Elim would love him, regardless.  
But he'd never dared to test them.

Until now.  

He braced himself, and announced:  "Elim, I'm not 
what you think I am."

Garak frowned, not understanding.  "What is it that 
you aren't?"

"Human."

He still didn't understand.  "You mean you're of some 
other species, surgically altered to resemble your 
adoptive parents?  If so, I must say they're done a 
beautiful job.  I would never have guessed you weren't 
their child."

"Oh, no- That's not-" Julian corrected hastily.  "I *was* 
born their child.  The alterations--what was done to 
me--it's all genetic."

He could see comprehension begin to waken in Elim's 
eyes, and he turned over quickly so he wouldn't have 
to see the repulsion that followed. 

But Garak only said, "Is that all?"

It was not the response he'd expected.  "'Is that all?'" 
Julian looked back over his shoulder.  "Isn't it enough? 
Elim, I've been artificially enhanced."  He blinked hard 
as he spoke the words out loud; they sounded slightly 
obscene to his ears.

"I had assumed something of the sort.  You have that 
remarkable resiliency, as well as those athletic skills 
which you only use to rout poor Chief O'Brien.  And 
you *are* a brilliant physician."

Julian turned again to stare at him in disbelief.  "You 
never said a thing to me."

"Well, you seemed at pains to conceal it.  I am 
aware that you humans have an unaccountable prejudice 
toward genetic manipulation, and I didn't want to 
embarrass you by bringing it up.  Really, Julian, I 
never thought it mattered.  Such adjustments are a 
common occurrence on Cardassia.  I could point 
to a dozen or more prominent citizens who've been 
enhanced in one way or another."

"Y- you?"

"No, not me.  No one ever considered me worth the 
trouble."  Garak sounded a little offended, as if this 
were some kind of neglect. 

Bashir was beginning to realize that not only was his 
secret unimportant to Elim, but his mate didn't even see 
a reason why it should make a difference. 

How many times had he imagined what he'd do at this 
moment?  Too many to count.  And yet, not once in 
those innumerable scenarios he'd composed had he 
ever pictured himself with his eyes suddenly over-
flowing with tears.

"Elim," he began, but he discovered he had no idea 
what he wanted to say.  He blinked, and the moisture
spilled down his cheeks; he brushed at it with his
fingers.  "Elim, I-"

Garak drew him close and grabbed one corner of the 
bedsheet.   "It's all right, my love.  I understand,"
he murmured as he blotted the tears away. "Although
I must say that I find this source of your estrangement 
puzzling.  Was your medical condition so unpromising?"

"No, it wasn't that bad.  I was...slow.  Underdeveloped."
He had to stop to breathe in deeply. The words were 
not easy to say.  "Clumsy.  But the prognosis was that 
I might catch up later on.  If there'd been no hope that 
I'd ever be able to function normally, then they 
would've had no trouble correcting the problem."  

Garak rubbed comfortingly between his shoulder blades, 
then lower, in the small of his back.  "You resent that
they've done this to you?" he asked.

"It's not the enhancements," Bashir admitted.  "I 
wouldn't be here without them."  He wriggled a little
closer.  "I can't resent that. It's that I can't help 
feeling that my parents stopped loving me because of it."

"I would have thought otherwise, if they redesigned 
you to their specifications."

"You *would* think so, but that isn't what happened.  I 
know I was an embarrassment to them--imagine, one 
of the Federation's most brilliant couples bringing their 
clumsy, stupid little boy to all those diplomatic functions!  
What would people say?  I was sent off for the first 
treatments when I was five, just when people would have 
begun to realize that I wasn't simply shy."

"Then your mother didn't alter you herself?"

"No.  She knows people.  Her colleagues are some 
of the Federation's top geneticists.  I was remade 
completely, made into the son Doctor and Ambassador 
Bashir always wanted--one suitable for public 
appearances, a distinguished career, all sorts of
honors.  A son they could be proud of."

He hadn't realized how much he'd wanted to talk about
this--to Elim, to *someone.*  The words, which had been
so hard to speak aloud only minutes ago, now came 
tumbling out.

"The enhancements should have made it all right.  They
didn't need to be ashamed of me anymore.  But the 
changes only made it worse.  You can make excuses 
for a slow child.  I'm supposed to be smarter, better.  As 
far as my father is concerned, I shouldn't be able to fail.  
When I don't live up to his expectations, which is most
of the time, he blames me.  He thinks I'm not doing all
that I can with my abilities--and that I do it to thwart him.
With Mother, it's worse in some ways.  She expects just
as much from me as *he* does, but she's usually more 
supportive of my choices than Father is.  When I decided 
to become a doctor.  When I entered Starfleet.  But she-
well- it's as if she doesn't consider me *hers* anymore.

"Those early days in the clinic aren't very clear to me.
There was so much I didn't understand--things I didn't
figure out until much later--but I do remember when she 
came to visit me.  It's one of my first vivid memories.  
I hadn't seen her in so long.  I ran up to her, shouting 
`Mummy!' and instead of picking me up as any mother
would, she held me at arms' length.  She's held me at 
arms' length ever since.  I'm not her natural child, you 
see.  I'm something created in a laboratory, and I might 
bear some resemblance to the son she gave birth to, 
I'm not really him.  She tries to pretend that it doesn't 
make a difference, but it does and we both know 
it.  Do you know the story of the changeling-child?"

"Changeling? Like the Founders?"

"No, this is something else entirely.  It's an ancient 
Earth folk-tale.  These supernatural creatures, called 
the fairies, steal a human child and put one of their own
in its place.  It looks just like the stolen child, but 
it's as old as the hills and it has all the wisdom of its
people.  It doesn't behave the way a human child
would.  I suppose that this was their only explanation
for all sorts of psychological and developmental 
disorders in those superstitious, barbaric days.
There were tests to be performed if you thought your
child had been replaced.  If you could trick the
changeling into revealing its true nature, then you
tossed it into the fire and the missing child was
returned."

Garak continued to stroke Julian's hair and listened 
to this without interruption.  "Have I ever told 
you that I find much of your human folklore quite 
disturbing?" he asked.  "You don't actually tell these 
gruesome stories to children, do you?"

Julian, nestled against his chest, let out a choked
laugh.  "I'll tell you `Handsel and Gretel' next.  That 
one will keep you awake all night."  

"I've observed that you humans consider the 
subject of genetic engineering to be somewhat taboo, 
but I never realized that the prejudice ran so 
deeply as this."

"It's more than taboo.  The Federation has laws 
against it, although they make allowances in the 
most severe cases. Even so, doctors are reluctant to 
treat.  Your Cardassian physicians may have worked out 
all the difficulties, but in humans, the type of 
extensive genetic manipulation that I've undergone can 
sometimes result in mental instability, or lead to...
aberrations in subsequent generations.  I check myself 
regularly and there've been no abnormalities so far, 
but the possibility terrifies me.  That fear of breeding 
monsters is so deeply ingrained in the human psyche--
well, I can honestly say that I'm not disappointed that 
you and I will never have a child of our own.

"Elim, no one can ever know about this.  In spite of 
everything, I don't want to see my parents suffer the
consequences for what they've done."

"Of course.  But are the penalties for it really so high?"

Julian nodded.  "If the truth is discovered, it will 
mean the end of my father's career.  Mother will lose 
her license to practice medicine--and so will I.  We 
might even go to prison for it.  The physicians,
mother's friends who performed the alterations, would 
be brought up on charges.  I could ruin a lot of lives."

"You won't be able to keep it a secret forever," Garak 
said.  "Too many people are involved, and things like 
this always come out in the end, usually when they're 
the most inconvenient."

"I know." Bashir answered.  "But I have to put it off 
as long as I can." 

-=*)]![(*=-

Commander Sisko was waiting in the Infirmary when 
Bashir went in early the next morning.

"Julian, can I talk to you for one minute?"

Sisko's use of his first name, plus the tentative tone 
of his voice, told Bashir that whatever his commander 
had to tell him was of a sensitive, personal nature. "Of 
course, sir."  He ushered Sisko into his office.  "What 
is it?"

"I just had a message from Admiral Toddman.  He 
wanted me to know that Ambassador Bashir contacted him 
last night.  It looks like your father's been talking 
to a lot of the highest-ranked officers in Starfleet 
Command lately.  At this point, he's only making 
inquiries, but I thought I ought to warn you--he's 
trying to have you transferred." 

-=*)]III[(*=-

After Sisko left him, Bashir went straight to Garak's shop.
The tailor listened as he told his news in an outraged 
burst, and once Julian had finished, he asked, "Can he 
do it?"  

"He'll certainly give it his best try.  Father's got connections
--he only has to pull a few strings with his old friends at 
Starfleet Command and I could be transferred to the 
Yorktown, or the Lexington, or even the Enterprise."  Julian 
laughed bitterly.  "That's the sort of post my father wants 
me to have--one that's prestigious and offers room for
advancement.  One where you won't be allowed to come along.  
Can you see us together on a starship?"

Garak admitted that this was an improbable picture.  
Even in the unlikely contingency that he would be 
permitted onboard a Federation ship as the civilian 
spouse of a Starfleet officer, he would be kept under 
constant surveillance by the ship's security personnel--
and he doubted that security on a starship would be 
quite so discreet and courteous in monitoring him as 
Odo had always been. 

"Commander Sisko said he won't let me go without a 
fight," Julian continued.  "Oh, we'll put up a fight. 
Elim, damn it, I won't let him get away with this!  If it 
comes to it, I'll resign my commission before I let 
myself be posted away from you."

"You can't give up your career..."  

"I don't need to be in Starfleet to practice medicine," 
Bashir insisted bravely.  "I don't need to be CMO on a 
space station. You've given up so much for my sake--
It's about time I gave up something for you."  

As he became more agitated, Garak took him by the 
arms; he could feel the slender biceps trembling under 
his hands.  This repressed fury was somewhat 
alarming; the last time Garak had seen his usually
even-tempered mate so angry, Julian had wound up
killing a man in his defense.  In this dangerous 
state, he was likely to do something impulsive and
foolish.

"Dearest, don't you think that's a little rash?" he 
asked gently.

Quieter now, but voice still quavering with emotion,
Julian answered, "For as long as I can remember, my
father has tried to arrange my life to suit what *he*
wants.  He's bullied and manipulated me, and I let 
him because I was so afraid of his disapproval.   
You don't know what that's like, wanting so much to 
please him, but resenting him at the same time for 
all his unreasonable demands.  It has to stop."

"I agree." Garak decided that this was not the time
to tell his mate that he knew exactly what it was like
to try and please a demanding father.  "But surely
there are less drastic measures we can take?"

Bashir's head was still lowered as he considered
this; slowly, he lifted his eyes to Garak's.  

"If nothing at the Infirmary requires your immediate 
attention," the tailor suggested, "why don't you go 
and talk to him now?"

-=*)]![(*=-

The long walk from Garak's shop to the habitat ring 
gave Julian time to work himself into a righteous
temper and to rehearse what he wanted to say to
his father.  There were some things he'd wanted to 
say for years, but had never found the nerve before. 
Fighting for Garak this past year had given him new 
courage; he felt capable of standing up to the 
most intimidating people--and his parents were by 
far the most intimidating people he had ever faced.

His mother answered the door. 

"Is Father here?" He stepped into his parents' 
quarters and looked around.

"No, Jules.  I'm afraid he's gone out."

"Mother, did you have anything to do with this?  You 
do know what he's trying to do?"

"Yes, dear, I do."  The elder Dr. Bashir sighed and 
sank gracefully into a chair.  She gestured for Julian 
to take a seat; he was beginning to pace.  "Jules, 
I am so sorry."  

Julian sat down.  "You mean you don't agree with him?" 
he asked, somewhere between hope and disbelief.

"With his methods?  Yes, certainly.  I've tried to make 
him understand that he can't force you to do as he 
wants, but you know how your father can be when 
everything doesn't go smoothly.  He's so accustomed 
to being able to handle people, and when he can't 
master a crisis, especially when it involves you... 
This marriage of yours has disturbed him very deeply, 
you know."

"Well, he's disturbed me too."

"You always bring out the worst in each other," Elizabeth
answered sadly. 

"What can we do to convince him to stop this?  Can you
help?"

She shook her head.  "Darling, as much as I disagree 
with your father's actions, I can't disagree with his 
feelings.  Nothing would please me more than to see you 
end this unfortunate relationship.  I'd hoped when we 
came here that we could talk you out of it somehow."

This was not the confrontation he'd come here for, but 
Julian's heart was still pounding with outrage and 
adrenalin; if he had to, he was ready to take a stand 
on *this* front as well.

"I won't put up with any kind of interference," he told her.  
"Not from Father, and not from you.  You can't pretend 
that this is loving concern for my welfare." 

"Jules, that is a horrible thing to say!"

"But it's true. When my friends try to intervene, at least 
I know that they mean well.  They worry for me.  You're 
more concerned with how this *looks.*  The Bashirs' 
son has embarrassed them once again with his 
inappropriate marriage.  How awkward this must be for
you.  It's a marvel that you haven't officially disowned
me to avoid explaining my latest 'peculiarity'  to all your
acquaintances." 

At this, there was a parallel flash of anger in Elizabeth 
Bashir's eyes. "Let's have no misunderstanding."  
Her voice was suddenly sharp, severe.  "Your father 
and I have not cast you out.  We would be proud to 
see you succeed in whatever you do.   *You* have 
pushed us away."

"You rejected my very existence!"  The accusation was  
out before he realized that this lay at the very center 
of his anger, his resentment, his bitterness--all his 
problems with his parents.  He was unloved; everything 
else was a minor issue.  "I wasn't good enough for you 
as I was.  You sent me away, and even after the 
changes, I still couldn't live up to your standards of 
perfection!"

"What we did was for your own good!" his mother 
insisted.  "We only wanted to give you opportunities 
that you would never have had otherwise.   We wanted 
to give you a bright future.  You've never forgiven us for 
that.  You've been angry like this since you were fifteen."

"Since I was old enough to realize what all the doctors 
and tests were really for."

"We lost you then.  You've never truly been ours since."

"I haven't been yours for longer than that," Julian shot 
back, old hurts resurfacing. He had to hear her admit 
the truth, just this once. "You've barely been a mother 
to me since I was small. We lost the natural biological 
link between us when you had my genetic structure altered, 
and we simply don't have the emotional connection to 
make up for it.  We only pretend to be a family for 
appearance's sake.  It's pointless."  

He had gone too far.  He could see that his harsh
words had upset her.  Was she was genuinely sorry for 
their estrangement?  It was hard for him to believe
it, but nevertheless he had the unmistakable
impression that she was saddened by the loss...of him?

"You regret it, don't you?" he asked in a flash of insight. 
"It hurt you more than you expected to give him up."

His mother looked puzzled. "Give who?"

"Jules.  Your son."  He spoke as if Jules Bashir were 
another person entirely, but that was how he'd always 
felt about it--as if 'Jules' were something like a twin 
brother who'd been tragically lost in childhood.  Stolen 
by the fairies.  "You tell yourself it was all for the best.  
You gave away your child to get *me,* and you can't
help wondering if I'm worth the sacrifice.  You do think 
about it, Mother, sometimes--Would he have grown 
out of his slowness after all?  What kind of man might 
he have become if you'd left him alone?  He would 
never have been me.  He wouldn't be as smart.  He 
probably would never have been a doctor--but mightn't 
he have been a better son?"

It was a brash, challenging question, and Elizabeth 
Bashir was momentarily lost for an answer. Julian felt 
a small thrill of triumph; this was the first time he'd 
ever broken through his mother's impenetrable defenses.

"I have wondered," she admitted, and folded her hands 
in her lap as she sat a little straighter, "how it might 
have been if we had allowed you to develop naturally.
If we have rejected you, you've had your revenge. 
You've cut us out completely.  You seem determined 
to throw away everything we risked our careers, our 
reputations to give you.  Jules, do you do this 
deliberately to spite us--or is this another of your
perverse little quirks, like your unusual penchant 
for Cardassian males?"

"He's a wonderful man," Julian replied.  "If you knew
everything he's done for me, you wouldn't be so 
opposed to our marriage.  You'd see how important
he is to me."  He sighed, more conciliatory now 
that he had managed to strike a nerve.  "I'm sorry 
if I seem ungrateful, but I can't be the perfect 
little boy you designed me to be.  I refuse to be.  
I'm more than that. I'm my own person now.  You helped 
to make me, though probably not in the way you planned. 
I've gone beyond your expectations--Just like any 
child, I suppose.  If you can't accept that this is 
who I am, then perhaps it's best if you just let me go
my own way."

=*)]![(*=-

Not long after Julian had left him, Garak spotted 
Ambassador Bashir stalking down Promenade, heading 
away from the Infirmary; after a moment's hesitation, 
the man went into Quark's.  Garak moved to intercept.  

He had already decided that if more drastic measures 
were required to address this problem, *he* would take 
them on.  He'd advised Julian to confront his father
directly in order to give himself time to form his own plans;
he didn't know if Julian's meeting with the elder Bashir 
had been disastrously brief, or if Julian had lost his 
courage (an unlikely possibility, but Garak was the first
to acknowledge that one's parents could provoke
the most uncharacteristic behavior).  Perhaps the
two had simply not seen each other yet.  Whatever the 
reason, he had not been given the time he needed to 
prepare for his chosen course of action--but Julian's 
father was here, alone, now, and he had to seize this 
opportunity while it presented itself.

The ambassador was still standing just within the 
entrance to Quark's, looking around and scowling
with distaste.  

"May I be of assistance, Ambassador?" Garak asked
behind him.

Richard Bashir turned, and the scowl only darkened.

"I'm looking for my son." It sounded like an accusation.

"I believe he has gone to your quarters, looking for you," 
Garak answered, carefully maintaining his respectful 
tone--the same one he used with Commander 
Sisko.  When Julian's father tried to push past him to 
exit the bar, he held up one hand to detain him.  
"Ambassador, wait.  If I may have a moment of your
time, I would like to speak with you." 

He gestured to an unoccupied table; at that hour of 
the morning, they had their choice of several. 
Richard Bashir sat warily, as if he expected some 
sort of trick.

"What is it?" he snapped.

"It's about your son," Garak spoke quickly.  
"We have been apprised of your...efforts to further 
his career.  You wish to send him away from here--
away from *me.*  You must know that Julian has no 
desire to leave DS9.  Commander Sisko will protest 
his transfer, and *I* will not allow him to go." 

The elder Bashir was unimpressed. "What can you 
do to stop it?"

"I will tell," he replied with a meaning Ambassador 
Bashir could not mistake.  "Julian has, of course, 
told me everything about himself.  We have no 
secrets from each other."

The man, twisting with impatience a moment ago, was 
suddenly very still.  The color drained from his 
face, but there was otherwise no outward sign of the 
tremendous shock that had just been delivered.  "I 
see," was all he said.  One of the Ferengi waiters 
approached their table; Bashir waved him away.

"Such news could destroy quite a few illustrious 
careers," Garak prodded further.

"My son's included."

"His career does not matter to me," Garak answered.  
"It would not disturb me if Julian were ejected from 
Starfleet.  In fact, it would make certain aspects of 
our lives together far less awkward."

"Bastard!" the ambassador growled through his 
teeth.  "You'd do this to him--ruin his life so *you* 
can increase your hold over him?"

"*You* are the one placing your son in danger,
Ambassador.  His fate is entirely in your hands.  
Now, what you propose to do?"

With a second, inarticulate growl of disgust, Richard 
Bashir rose abruptly from his seat; Garak seized him 
by the arm. 

"We will meet again at 1300 to discuss my terms,"
he said.  "My shop is here on the Promenade--do you
know where it is?  I will expect you."

Garak released the ambassador before he began to
struggle and let him leave without another delay.  He 
had done all that he could for the present.

-=*)]![(*=-

Julian was still arguing with his mother when his 
father returned.  

The ambassador's eyes blazed at Julian when he saw 
him sitting there.

"*You*," the word shot out with invective force. "Do you 
have any idea what you've got yourself into? I ought to 
make you pack your things and leave this place with 
us tonight."

Julian usually shrank before his father's roars but, 
right now, bolstered by the minor victory he had  
scored over his mother, he was feeling very bold.  
"I'm getting a little old for your ultimatums, don't you 
think?" he responded.  "Father, I'm staying here.  I'm 
staying married." He was ready to enter the second 
phase of battle, to tell his father to mind his own 
business, but Richard Bashir only snarled in reply.

"What a waste you are!  Everything we gave you--all that
intelligence, all that education, and you're just as
stupid as you were when you couldn't even say your own name.
Useless little fool--you'll be the ruin of us all."

Julian thought he was braced for anything, but this was 
too much.  It even shocked his mother.

"Richard-" with an apologetic glance at her son, Elizabeth 
followed her husband as he stormed into the bedroom. Julian 
sat fidgeting, listening to the rumbles and sharp queries, 
too low-toned for him to hear their words.  

Then he walked out.

-=*)]![(*=-

When Garak returned to his shop, he went to the 
computer in the back room, and began to gather his 
evidence.  The rest of the morning was his to work in, 
and he had skills, sadly underutilized these past years, 
which could be put to good use now.  

There was a surprisingly large amount of information, 
if one knew where to look.  He first went to Julian's own, 
easily accessible medical records.  Jules Bashir--
evidently, that was the name his parents had given him, 
for it appeared in all the earliest files; Julian must 
have changed it himself at some later point--had spent 
several long periods in clinics between the ages of five 
and eight.  The official reason for this was given as an
unpronounceable syndrome with chronic anemia, and the 
treatments described as some sort of blood-replacement 
therapy.  A convincing number of physicians' reports 
had been generated to back up this story, with only a 
few odd discrepancies.  When he searched for records
stored under the names of the attending physicians, he
located another set of files--encrypted, but not offering
much of a challenge.  These told the true story.  He 
wondered if Julian had ever seen these records himself. 
A small number of the encrypted files proved more 
resistant, but Garak retrieved copies anyway in hopes of 
solving the puzzle later on.

As Julian had suggested, this secret could easily
ruin both his parents' careers *and* incriminate a 
number of the Federation's top medical researchers.  
And more.

Garak had not realized just how illicit unsanctioned
genetic enhancements were within the Federation.  
An astonishing prejudice, considering that the 
Federation liked to view of itself as a haven of tolerance 
and enlightenment.  In his position, he was aware of the 
hypocrisy behind this declared virtue, but the depth of 
disgust that such a little thing excited was truly 
remarkable.  Apparently, it had something to do with a 
disastrous experiment in genetic manipulation conducted 
on Earth hundreds of years ago, a war in the early days 
of their space-faring era.  The onus still remained.  

And yet it appeared that quite a few people had known 
the truth about the Bashirs' child.  Elizabeth Bashir's 
associates had performed the medical procedures, but 
Richard Bashir's subsequent activities on his son's 
behalf were more widespread and far more interesting.  
This "string-pulling" was an old game to him.

Garak's search had led him into the Federation's
central archive, to the personal log files and
correspondence of thousands of their officials.
Many of the files he sought were unclassified:
He read Richard Bashir's own messages to his 
influential friends, and the friends' replies.
Everything was couched in the language of favors 
for a friend--a language familiar to Garak; on 
Cardassia, political and military careers were 
routinely initiated by helpful parents and sponsors.
Julian was mentioned obliquely, in phrases that could
only be understood if one knew of the boy's illicit 
genetic status.  But they were suggestive.  From 
these messages, Garak inferred that certain questions 
had not been asked when Julian had entered Starfleet 
and medical school. Blanks on his applications were 
overlooked; required records were not required in 
this special case.

And the *names*-!  People in the highest positions
in the Federation had assisted the Bashirs in
keeping their son's secret.  

Garak wondered if Julian knew about this.  It was
possible Richard had never told him.

There were references to other files, records
automatically sealed for a 50-year period from the 
date they were added to the database--presumably to 
preserve sensitive information until all the parties 
involved had died or were so old it no longer mattered.
Garak struggled briefly with the seals placed upon 
these tempting archives, but he wasn't able to convince the
central computer that he was a historian in the Earth 
Standard Year 2417.  He would try again when he had the
time; the evidence he had successfully gathered was 
enough to satisfy his present needs.

With this information, he could threaten to end the 
careers of several key members of the Federation 
Council. The sense of power he felt was intoxicating.

Once, information of this nature in the hands of an 
Obsidian Order operative would have been a spectacular 
triumph.  Twenty years ago, he would have made use 
of it ruthlessly, and never given a moment's thought to 
the child at the center of the scandal.

But now...

As he sorted through the files he had retrieved and
placed his own encryption codes upon them, he stopped
at one of the early medical records which featured an
image of Julian as a young boy--all outsized eyes, as 
if the imager had startled him. 

Twenty years ago, who would've predicted that this 
insignificant human whelp would have such a profound 
effect on his existence?  An absurd suggestion--it 
would have made him laugh.

And yet that child, now a grown man, was his primary 
concern.  Among the prominent doctors, admirals, and
council-members whose fate he might determine, he 
held the power to ruin his Julian.

He hadn't lied, exactly, when he'd told Ambassador 
Bashir that Julian's career didn't matter to him.  Their 
lives *would* be easier if his mate were not a Starfleet 
officer.  Disgraced and outcast, Julian would have no 
conflict of interests; Garak would have no rivals for 
his time and attention.  They could leave this place, go 
to some secluded planet far from the Federation, Cardassia, 
and all these cumbersome political issues.  Somewhere 
with a warm climate, quiet, where they had nothing to 
think about except each other....    

Garak smiled.  It was a harmless fantasy.

As he gathered up the data rods to store in a secure
place until they were needed, he heard footsteps 
on the floor in the front room of his shop. He whirled 
in his chair to find Julian just entering the office.  
The doctor looked stricken.

He gave Garak a wan smile.  "Would you mind terribly 
if I sobbed against your shoulder for a little while?"

"No, not at all.  My shoulder and I are completely at your 
service."  He reached back to the computer, hoping to 
blank the screen without drawing attention to it, but
Julian had come close enough to see the file he'd left open. 

"Elim," he sounded puzzled, but not angry.  "You've 
been looking at my medical records?"

"In light of our recent conversation, I've been curious 
about your condition.  I'd like to understand it better. 
Your training as a physician will be of use--Perhaps 
you can explain a few things to me?"

"But those records are sealed..." Julian trailed away 
and stared at Garak with increasing suspicion.  "You're 
lying.  Wh- what are you going to do? You're going to 
use that information against my parents, aren't you?"

"Your father must be persuaded to abandon his schemes 
for having you transferred," Garak hastened to 
explain.  "This is the most effective means at our 
disposal to ensure that he complies."  

"I confided in you just last night.  I *told* you I 
didn't want them hurt, even if they do deserve it.  
You promised me-" he stopped suddenly.  "You've spoken 
to Father already, haven't you?"

"Yes, briefly.  I'll be discussing the matter more
thoroughly with him this afternoon."

Julian nodded, as if everything was clear to him now.  
"I'm going to be there," he announced.

"No, I don't think that's wise." Twice now, Garak had 
left Julian alone with his parents and, both times, 
Julian had been devastated by the encounter.  He would
not make this mistake again.

"It's *my* family."

"And they have caused you nothing but distress since 
their arrival.  I will not have you subjected to further 
torments.  If this problem is to be dealt with effectively, 
it must be done by someone who will not be moved by 
emotional manipulation."

"That would be you," Julian answered dryly.

"My love, it certainly is not you.  I am used to 
conducting this type of negotiation, and it will go 
more smoothly if you are not in the middle of it.  If
you are here, your father will focus his blame upon you 
and I will be distracted from the task before me by 
trying to protect you. You'll only be in the way.  Let 
me take care of this alone." 

During their recent adventure in the Gamma Quadrant,
Garak had learned just how far he could dominate Bashir. 
From the beginning of their marriage, Julian had wanted 
him to be a husband; he had been a husband before, if 
an indifferent one, and it was only natural that he 
resume the role by modeling his behavior after the 
traditional, domineering Cardassian male.  Julian had 
responded favorably up to a point, but when they'd 
been aboard that Romulan ship with Tain and Garak had 
needed absolute control over his mate to ensure their
safety, Julian had rebelled.  He'd been told specifically
not to try to contact Starfleet via the Romulan computer
systems; he'd disobeyed, been caught, and only a 
remarkable stroke of luck had prevented him from being 
killed.

After that, they had discussed the matter thoroughly.  
Their marital roles they had assumed.  The things they 
wanted from each other.  In the end, they had agreed 
that he would not demand obedience unless it was a
crucial matter and when he did, Julian would trust 
him enough to submit.

This was the first time he tested his authority.

The doctor opened his mouth to protest, hesitated 
speechless, and shut it again.  He understood what 
he was being asked to do.  Garak could see the struggle 
play out on his face--indignation and uncertainty 
warring with a desire to prove that he did have faith 
in his mate--before he answered with an appropriately 
meek, "Yes, Elim."

There.  Not a passive and unthinking response to his
order, but a rational choice made--an intelligent 
act of submission.  He found it rather exciting.

This concession to his authority deserved a 
reward.  He took Julian by the chin to give him a 
kiss.   "Trust me, Dearest.  It will be all right."

-=*)]IV[(*=-

Julian had stationed himself at the Replimat, although 
he was too nervous to order more than tea.  He couldn't 
see the entrance to Garak's shop from here, but he had 
observed his parents walking down the Promenade in that 
direction a few minutes ago.  It had taken all his 
willpower not to get up and go after them.

It wasn't easy for him to do as Garak had asked.  He
wanted to trust, but how could he?  He'd given his mate
his most dangerous secrets, and Garak had immediately
used this information to his own advantage.  Elim had 
looked into his personal records, gathered evidence,
and even now was blackmailing his parents with it.  
And this was an old experience to Garak; by his own
admission, he'd conducted this type of negotiation 
before.

Commander Sisko came down from Ops for lunch; as he stood
at a nearby replicator and gave his order, Julian waved 
him over, inviting the commander to join him.

"You're not having lunch with your parents?" Sisko asked 
as he sat down.

"No, sir.  They've been detained.  I expect they'll 
be along later."

"Have you talked to your father about not being 
transferred?"

"That's all sorted out now," Julian told him.  "I 
won't be leaving DS9, sir."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"Commander," Bashir ventured, "when I first became 
involved with Garak, you didn't trust him, did you?  
You thought he was up to something."

"I was suspicious of his motives," Sisko admitted.  
"With his background, it seemed likely that he was 
taking advantage of you to gain better access to 
Federation information."

"But you've changed your mind--you don't believe 
that now?" 

"I've gotten to know him better these past months.  
I believe he does care a great deal for you."

Bashir sighed.

"Doctor?"

"Oh, it's not that I don't believe that too!  It's 
just that, sometimes, I'm reminded of what he used to 
be before we met.  I thought he'd change--he *has* 
changed--but he still does...things.  He expresses an 
opinion or decides on a course of action that *he* 
seems to think is only natural.  That's not
always bad--it can be refreshing, but I don't always
understand his reasons.  There are times when I'm 
appalled by what he thinks is acceptable."

"You mean he's still a Cardassian."

He dropped his gaze.  "Yes, I suppose so."

"They're a practical people, Cardassians," Sisko said
meaningfully, watching him.  "Their actions can appear
callous by human standards when they're just taking the
most direct route to get what they want.  I don't know
what Garak's done that's worrying you," although, from 
the flow of their conversation, he was able to make a 
good guess, "but I think he has your best interests at 
heart.  Whether or not you can accept that is
*your* decision." 

"I know," Julian murmured, grateful that, even if Sisko 
didn't like Garak and had not approved of this marriage 
at first, the commander had always respected his choices.  
It was just what he'd hoped his parents would be able 
to do. 

-=*)]![(*=-

1300.  Richard Bashir entered the tailor's shop, but he 
was not alone.  He had brought along reinforcements; 
Elizabeth was with him. 

Garak felt himself more than equal to dealing with 
Julian's father: the man was plainly a bully and, like 
all bullies, easy to intimidate once you gained a little 
power over them.  Julian's mother, on the other hand, 
presented a more complex challenge.   

But Elizabeth Bashir was his enemy, just as her husband 
was.  He would not forget that.

It wasn't because they could take away the one thing that 
had made his shattered life bearable these past few years--
there was no question in Garak's mind that he would 
prevail.  It was because these people had hurt his Julian.  
Parents or not, he would not permit anyone to do that.

"Doctor Bashir, Ambassador," Garak greeted them 
pleasantly.  "Please, come into my office.  We can 
discuss our business more comfortably there." 

"I believe you told my husband that you have certain...
privileged information about our son," Elizabeth said 
as he escorted them back.  "That he has been illegally
enhanced. We've heard these rumors before. Such things 
are often whispered about exceptionally bright children 
such as Jules, but in this case it isn't true. Whatever 
Jules has told you, he is mistaken.  It's a fantasy of 
his, created out of ugly gossip."

"No, Doctor.  I have proof.  Shortly after Julian 
confided the nature of his medical condition, I took it 
upon myself to explore his background more thoroughly."  
Garak deliberately implied that all of this had occurred
some time ago, and not within the last 26 hours.  "I 
made quite a few...interesting discoveries--in fact, I 
believe that I know more about Julian's personal history 
than he knows himself."  

Ah, good.  They understood.

"What is it you want?"  Richard Bashir snapped.

His wife lay a hand on his arm; her eyes were flashing 
--wonderfully like Julian's when he was angry--but she 
contained her emotions better.  "Mr. Garak, what must we 
do to ensure your silence?"

"I'm damned if I'll submit to this blackmail!" Richard 
protested.

"Ambassador, Doctor," Garak told them, "You don't have a 
choice."

"Richard, he's right," said Elizabeth.  "There is no choice.  
We have more than ourselves to consider."

The two looked as if they were about to begin a domestic
squabble; Garak waited until they had settled down and he 
had their full attention again.

"These are the terms," he began.  "The first condition 
should be obvious--no more admirals."

"Agree," Elizabeth responded.  "Richard?"

Ambassador Bashir *hmph'd*, but he consented.

"It is to your advantage if Julian remains on DS9.  Second: 
you will *never* disturb Julian again."

The ambassador exploded, "Are you saying we can't see our son?" 

"You can see him.  Send him as many messages as you like.  If 
you're in the neighborhood again, please do drop by.  You and 
Dr. Bashir-" he bowed slightly in her direction, "are always 
welcome.  Cardassians are firm believers in the unity of the 
family and I would not dream of forcing you to sever all 
contact with your son.  But, when you do visit, you will not 
do or say anything to make him unhappy.  He has been miserable 
since your arrival yesterday, and I will not have this 
episode repeated."

Elizabeth nodded, though she had begun to regard him with 
new curiosity.

"Is that it?" Richard asked suspiciously.

"That's it," Garak replied. "I see no reason for frivolous
demands.  As long as you both abide by my terms and do not 
interfere with my arrangement with your son, then I will be
no further trouble to you.  Your secrets are safe."  Then his 
tone changed slightly, became a little less pleasant.  "But 
if you try to take him from me, I'm afraid you won't be 
able to rely on my continued discretion. Are we agreed?"  

There were more grumbles from Richard, but his wife pointed 
out once again that they had no other option.  

"Are you telling me you can give our son away without a
fight?" the ambassador demanded.

"If we fight, Richard, we will lose him--we may have 
lost him already.  We may lose far more.  If we leave 
this distasteful situation as it is, then our lives will
continue without disruption and we may at least hope 
that Jules will survive his own folly.  He will be cared
for," she turned to Garak, "won't he?" 

"You have my word on it, Doctor," Garak assured her,
relieved that she had not made this difficult for him.
It was more than the knowledge that he could easily
ruin both her and her husband; the woman was clearly 
not as outraged as she had been at the beginning of this
interview.

They agreed to his terms.

"It's been a pleasure doing business with you," the 
tailor said as he saw his guests out.  Richard stalked 
swiftly toward the door.  Elizabeth lingered, walking
more slowly to remain with Garak a few second longer.

"Jules told me you had done things for him," she said.
"You're doing this for him, aren't you?"

"Madame, my interests in this matter are purely selfish,"
Garak replied. "Julian is extremely important to me--I will 
do whatever I have to to see that I do not lose him."  It might 
well be the most sincere thing he had ever said.  A pity the 
people who heard it wouldn't appreciate that.  "May I tell you 
something about your son?"  He raised his voice slightly for 
Ambassador Bashir's benefit.
 
He could only imagine what the ambassador thought he was about 
to say; the man drew himself up stiffly just inside the shop
door, and his lips twitched with disgust.  Dr. Bashir lowered 
her gaze for an instant, then met his eyes again and asked, 
"What is it?"

Garak addressed her.  "He is an extraordinary young man. 
I have never met another like him.  I do not speak of his 
intelligence, or his beauty, or his talents as a physician--
but that in some essential way he is *good.*  It is a 
quality that I do not believe can be created by genetic 
engineering.  He is worth far more than you and Ambassador 
Bashir have credited him."

The ambassador had already gone out of the shop; his wife 
followed, but turned back just before she exited.

"It's been an interesting experience to meet you at last, 
Mr. Garak."

Once again, he wasn't certain if she meant this as an 
insult or a compliment. 

-=*)]![(*=-

Sisko had finished his lunch and gone; Bashir was on his 
third mug of Tarkalian tea.  He was wondering if he ought to 
go down the Promenade to Garak's shop after all, just to see 
what was happening, when Garak came up the steps into the 
Replimat and crossed to his table.

"It's all finished?" he asked.

Garak nodded.

"You didn't threaten them, did you?"

"Just a little extortion.  For their assurance of no further 
meddling, I gave them the security of their reputations.  
It was a fair exchange."

"More easy to carry home than a herd of camels." Julian 
smiled.  He knew--had known before Commander Sisko had said
it--that Garak was only trying to protect him.  Even if
he couldn't agree with the very-Cardassian methods, the
motivation that prompted them was good.  "Elim? Thank you."

-=*)]![(*=-

The Bashirs had intended to stay for three more days, 
but the USS Dewey was leaving that same evening and they
arranged to depart with it instead. 

Garak went along when Julian went to see his parents off,
but he hung back from the trio gathered at the airlock;
he did not wish to intrude on this final family scene, 
but he wanted to be nearby to offer his mate the 
emotional support of his presence as well as to ensure 
that Richard and Elizabeth honored their agreement and 
did not fling out any ugly parting remarks.

To his relief, the Bashirs were well-behaved, though
their farewells were somewhat strained.

"Take care of yourself, dear."  With an awkward motion, 
rare for her, Elizabeth placed a hand on her son's 
shoulder and reached up to press cool, dry lips to his 
cheek.

"Good luck," the ambassador added.  "You're on your own 
now." He shot one last glare at Garak, then took his 
wife's arm.  Together, they departed through the airlock 
door.

"Goodbye," Julian said softly.  After the door rolled 
shut, he stood staring at it for a moment, then blinked 
heavily and seemed to slump.

Garak stepped forward.  "Are you all right?"

Bashir nodded quickly and turned to him with a tremulous 
smile that did nothing to conceal the wounded look in his 
eyes.  "I don't know if you can understand this. They made 
my childhood a misery, and whenever they show up, it's 
only to make my life hell all over again.  I want nothing 
to do with them--I'd be far more happy if I never saw 
them again--but they are still my parents.  As much as 
I want to turn my back on them, I can't just do it without 
tearing myself apart.  I know it's hopelessly stupid of 
me, but each time they come back into my life, I can't 
help wishing that *this* time, we'll be able to work it 
all out.  Of course we never do. They'll never be able 
to accept me. But it doesn't stop me from hoping."

"I do understand."  Gently, Garak placed his hand on the 
doctor's arm and, for a brief moment, Julian pressed 
against him in a sudden hug, then drew back again before 
he could return the embrace. 

"You offered me a shoulder to cry on," Julian said.  
"I could use it now."

"It is still at your disposal."

They had taken a few steps down the corridor, then 
Bashir ventured,  "Elim, what about *your* parents?"

"What about my parents?"

"There's no chance I'll be meeting them any time soon, 
is there?  I don't think I could go through this again."

"It's extremely unlikely you'll have to," Garak told him.  
"They've both been dead for a long time."

Arms around each other, they headed back to the habitat 
ring. 


End

-=*)]![(*=--=*)]![(*=--=*)]![(*=--=*)]![(*=-

Kathryn Ramage        kramage@erols.com
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The following tale of alien encounters is true.
By true, I mean false. It's all lies, but
they're entertaining lies--and, in the end,
isn't that the real truth?  The answer is no.

Leonard Nimoy, hosting The Simpsons
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"Of course your parents know how to push your
buttons; they're the ones who had them installed
in the first place!"
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