DS9--Bashir/Garak (sort of) 
This story probably takes place right before the fourth  
season, but it can be placed anywhere in the timeline,  
really.   It is an addendum to my previous story "Festival". 
 
Summary:  Garak is contemplating the evening of the Cardassian  
New Year and what he will do during it. 
 
Rating: PG


Festival--An Interlude 
by R'rain

 
	Garak ran the scanner up and down Ensign Governo's  
back, but his mind wasn't on his work.  It had been quite  
early this morning when he had returned to his suite from  
Quark's.  How thick-headed Ferengi could be sometimes!  Back  
on Cardassia his requests would have been fulfilled without  
confusion or incident...but this wasn't Cardassia. 
	"Is that everything?" asked the ensign after Garak put  
down the scanner. 
	"Yes.  Your suit should be ready for you to pick up in  
two days, if that is convenient." 
	"Two days?  I'll be here."  How young and naive he  
looked, standing there a week before his wedding.  He was  
much like the doctor in many ways...alike in temperament as  
well as darkly handsome looks.  But that was a matter for  
consideration at another time.  If Garak's physiology was  
capable of blushing, he would have at that thought.  He  
watched as the ensign left the shop, then closed up for the  
day.  It was only an hour or so after lunch, but he had many  
things to prepare and very few of them had anything to do  
with his party.  That was in Quark's hands now. 
	Garak reached into a drawer and pulled out an ornate  
incense burner.  It was a bit blackened from many, many  
uses, but it was something he never intended to replace.  He  
sniffed at it lightly, then placed it on an end table in his  
fitting room.  He rummaged through the drawer again, but did  
not seem to find what he was looking for. 
	With a furrowed brow he went through the door that led  
to his quarters and returned a few moments later with a  
short silver rod.  Kneeling in the middle of the floor in a  
very uncharacteristic manner, he sprinkled black powder on  
the rod, then got up and placed it on the table.  These  
preparations would take him at least twice as long to do  
than they would have before, but that was just something he  
would have to endure.  He had no family here to aid him. 
	He paused and contemplated the ceremony for a moment.   
It was not something that happened often, certainly not  
*every* new year, and this would be the first time he would  
celebrate it alone.  Or would he?  There had been an idea  
forming in the back of his mind for the past few days--a  
small possibility, but maybe... 
	He shook his head and went back to his preparations.   
No one knew what he was doing.  Probably no one would want  
to know.  He had a reputation aboard the station, and he  
didn't want to disillusion anyone who thought of him as the  
mysterious spy.  Not that it wasn't a well-deserved  
reputation, but there was more to him than malice and  
mystery. 
	The rug he rolled out was massive, covering almost the  
entire floor.  The interwoven designs were beautiful, but  
probably didn't mean anything to anyone on the station but  
him.  When other looked at it the saw loops and swirls and  
shapes and eyes.  When he saw it he saw the faces of the  
gods and goddesses that he had known since childhood.  He  
smiled to himself and kept working. 
	It was close to 1700 hours when he finally finished all  
the things he had to get done before that evening, more than  
a few moments being spend on admiring his own work. Everyone  
is allowed moment of vanity, sometimes.  He sat down and  
began to think about the evening again.  It was not  
something he cared to do alone, but the only person he would  
even consider performing the ceremony with was the one he  
wanted to disillusion the least.  Doctor Bashir was quickly  
becoming the best friend he'd ever had, and friends were not  
something Garak made either easily or lightly. 
	The decision was agonizing to make.  Everything that  
was important to him was held in the balance over a simple  
ceremony.  He had to decide which was more important to him.   
Bashir's possible reactions were unknown.  As much as he  
tried to fake it, human nature was something of a mystery to  
him.  Bashir might he pleased, or he might lose interest in  
him entirely.  Was that a risk he was willing to take? 
	Finally he decided to take the chance.  He would invite  
Bashir to join him this evening.  Now if only the good  
Doctor would say yes...