Okay so in 2.05, Julian wakes up and Garak is standing at the foot of his bed. Usually, its assumed that Garak broke in somehow but what if Julian just doesn’t lock the door?
In fact, no one from the Federation core worlds do. Like, you’re from Earth and there’s no poverty and people get the help they need so crime is nearly non existent and it’s basically like living in a dinky town in the middle of nowhere; no one bothers. You may even be considered a bit weird and paranoid if you do.
And so Garak is just constantly flabbergasted to find that he can just walk in whenever and Julian’s cool with it.
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I had an idea today for a different way to approach the leverage/queen's thief crossover prompt from the weird the tag event. Elliot takes on the role of Costis as a member of the queen's guard (the queen being Sophie) who takes umbrage with the behavior of the unwelcome new king (Nate)- but unlike Eugenides, Nate doesn't work alone, so part of what Elliot objects to are the people he brings with him (Hardison and of course Parker, who is the actual Thief)
One thing I really like and find personally resonant about Julian Bashir is the fact that he's filled with passion and curiosity and enthusiasm but is also a judgmental hater. Responding to the new Defiant with "I hate the carpet." Responding to Jadzia saying "What I want is Worf" with "Why?" It's a pettiness distinct from his righteous anger over genuine injustice and it really speaks to me.
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functionally suicidal character saying “I would die for you” to their significant other and its like. I get the sentiment, honey, but if a hot dog vendor told me he’d sell hot dogs for me, I wouldn’t feel very moved now would I
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“You ever watch Men in Black? Will Smith, Tommy Lee Jones, ‘I make this look good,’ all that jazz?”
“Of course.”
“It’s horseshit. We made it up. If the public thinks government agents go around in suits and sunglasses, we can go around in our actual uniforms and nobody will think twice about it.”
“I mean, I get it, but it’s a lot less classy.”
“Classy schmassy. I once had to smuggle an entire Neptunian armada out of Beaverlodge, Alberta. I had 20,000 warships in the back of a pickup truck, I wore the suit and nobody even asked me for a license.”
There was a furious silence as she grappled with this. Then: “Fine. Fine, I’ll wear the stupid vest.”
“Fantastic,” he said. “Welcome to the Men In Hi-Vis.”
Ranking Non-Human DS9 Characters By How Interesting They Would Be If They Were Vampires
Leeta: I think this could be fun but knowing the show it would quickly land in Elvira territory.
Quark: As a rule, I think it's more interesting to consider if characters were vampires the whole time than getting turned mid-show (because getting turned has been played out so many times and there's not much new to do with it). However, Quark is the exception, because if he were a vampire from the beginning it would just be a very obvious metaphor for capitalism, but if he were turned mid-show the comedic potential would be gold. Vampirism is so violent and Quark really hates being up close and personal with violence. Would have a real problem with it until he figured out a way to monetize it. Once he learns some people have a fetish and will pay to be bitten he'll be devastated when Dr. Bashir invents the cure.
Worf: Worf already has deep angst about his capacity for violence that makes him hate fun (according to Let He Who Is Without Sin) and this is just more of that in a fairly boring way. Why he scores higher than Quark is because I'm imagining Worf's human parents adopting a child and finding out he's a vampire and deciding to love and raise him anyway, and I think that's funny. (Vampires aren't stuck at one age here for the purposes of comedy.) And he thinks everything about him is that way because he's a vampire until he meets the others, much like in canon.
Rom: Even funnier than Quark, because of Rom's general affability and dopiness. Unlike Quark, I think he would remain a vampire until the end of the series and it's just kind of a running joke in the background. Quark finds Rom drinking blood less disgusting than Rom drinking root beer.
Jadzia: Vampirism works pretty well with her arc of being a joined Trill- she was recently turned and is still figuring out the rules of engagement and how to balance vampirism and Starfleet. Julian is infatuated with her about it and she isn't interested. Curzon is her sire and still running around and that provides fodder for an interesting dynamic. Is Ezri someone she turns by accident? I'm unclear on that part but I think there's interesting potential, particularly for it to give early seasons Jadzia more to work with. (Later seasons Jadzia doesn't need it as much.)
Garak: Garak was my initial number one because I always want to hit him with more angst. Tain was his sire, but not his biodad, which adds a whole other layer to "admit you're my father," especially if Tain killed his real father. How long has Garak been alive and doing this? When was he turned and what memories does he have of life before? In The Wire, he runs out of his secret source of blood and has to come clean to Bashir about it, who has been trying for a year to figure out if he is a vampire or not without success. Works extremely well with his whole oh-ho-I'm-just-a-simple-tailor whoops actually-I'm-very-dangerous-in-the-dark-don't-mind-the-sharpness-of-my-smile thing. I'm ranking it lower than initially thought though because at the end of the day it's interesting but doesn't change much; works out pretty much the same as in canon.
Kira: Kira has that thing with Kai Opaka about how she worries the Prophets won't forgive her for all the blood she's spilled and just imagine how hard core that scene would be if she drank the blood instead, and violence is a part of her she cannot excise. The Resistance feeding on the Cardassian soldiers they kill is fucking metal. But then what happens when you don't have Cardassians as acceptable targets anymore? What if that's part of what splinter sects like the Kohn Ma were radical about, was who or how they drank from after the withdrawal? Did Cardassians bring vampirism with them or is it a Bajoran thing? What if Starfleet can offer a cure and Kira et al have to decide if they want it? Endless room here. Also offers further fuel to why she is so unable to face her father's death.
Odo: At first I was going to put Odo on the bottom of the list because vampirism is such a physical, primal thing and he's so divorced from his own body's needs and capabilities, and then I realized that's the genius of it. Odo is the stranger in a strange land who doesn't know how his anatomy works or what he's capable of until they find the Founders, who are like surprise, you can do so much more than you realize but you need to drink the blood of solids in order to do it! Drinking blood replaces linking as what the voice of the founders distracts him with during the occupation arc. The fear and disgust the others on the station have when they learn the truth. Makes changelings even that much more untrustworthy and frightening and witch-hunt-worthy. Does Odo become a regular blood drinker? Is it worth it? Or does he commit to always denying himself? How does this affect his ending?
I saw the words fetish and Dr Bashir together, and now I can't help imagining Julian wrestling with himself as to whether or not it would be ethical for him to delay Quark's treatment because he's probably never going to get this chance again... (After an evening with Julian, Quark realises he actually wants the cure, after all!)
#Julian putting his foot in it even more saying he excited he is to be able to research vampirism#Oouuuh and how would it link to religion and esp. Winn's pov?#SO many directions!#Vampire Winn acting superior cos she's 'never drank blood' - except she has and she's terrified that's why the prophets don't speak to her#There's so much here is so interesting!!
I can't leave this is in the tags because it's so brilliant! I am obsessed with how Winn fits into this! Okay, picture this. She was imprisoned for five years by the Cardassians. We know Cardassians are torturers. What if one of the sick things they did was try to get Bajoran vampires to bite other Bajorans, and it's a way that they taunted her, maybe even offering to let her go early or lessen her punishment in some way if she did, or not offering her other nourishment, and she steadfastly refuses. Until presented with someone who is sick, and/or severely injured, and they're going to die anyway. They're going to die anyway- so how bad can it be for her to have a taste?
And so she says she's never killed anyone by drinking from them (unlike Kira, this is why she's so much more holy than Kira, why will the prophets not talk to her like they talk to Kira)- and that one person all those years ago does not count, cannot count, because they were going to die anyway.
Do you think Garak's jealous about Julian's enhancements? That maybe - as well as he tries to hide it - he finds it deeply irritating the way that Julian refuses to acknowledge his good fortune, and indeed (in Garak's eyes) appears to be throwing a "woe is me" sulk about the whole thing.
Because, doesn't the doctor understand how lucky he is? His parents had loved him enough to risk their reputation and standing in the Federation, in order to correct his deficiencies and make sure he didn't have to struggle through life; Garak's father hadn't even been able to risk acknowledging him as his son on his deathbed, when they were alone. And if Tain had cared enough to have genetically enhanced him - if he'd done a proper, thorough job of cutting out Garak's weaknesses as soon as they appeared - then surely, Garak wouldn't be this miserable, wretched failure of a Cardassian that his father had allowed him to become.
But Garak can only dream about how much easier his life might have been with that sort of advantage. Meanwhile, his doctor doesn't even seem to be grateful for what his parents gave him - and while Garak tries not to let it get to him, that rankles. It really does.
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This man has his own agenda when it comes to people like us. He’s more likely to recruit you… Garak and Bashir, on Starbase 375. Set during 'Favor the Bold'.
Cold Heaven
Starbase 375, 2372
They were in the turbolift together, just the two of them, heading up to the observation deck. Bashir, falling back loose-limbed against the wall, said, “Bit much, isn’t he?”
“Who?”
“Lieutenant Tunok.”
“Oh,” said Garak. “Him. Yes. What did you say to get him to go away?”
“I said I’d be with you the whole time. And that I’d let them know when I’d delivered you back in your quarters.”
“I’ve slipped my collar at last. Shall we seize a runabout and make our bid for freedom?”
“Not today,” said Bashir.
The lift stopped, the doors opened, and they came out onto the observation deck.
“Nice view,” said Bashir. “If you like watching ships come and go.”
Garak hadn’t, in fact, liked watching the only thing left to care about fly off into peril, but he’d come and watched anyway. “This way.”
“Where are you taking me now?”
“You’ll see.”
Early on during this period of confinement to Starbase 375, Garak had found himself staring at the reflections on the windows of the observation deck and thinking, idly, with some small part of his frenetically overactive brain, that something didn’t quite compute. It hadn’t been easy catching Tunok looking the other way, but Garak was a patient man, not to mention conniving, and that was how he’d learned that, through some error of construction, there was a piece of wall jutting out which, when combined with the curve of the station, created a small dead space into which he could slip and be entirely concealed.
Garak had been surprised and rather pleased about this. His impression of the Federation in general and Starfleet in particular had always been that everything was a perfect fit. It had been comforting to discover that sometimes they didn’t get the measurements right either. As he led Bashir over, he explained all this to the doctor, and found, to his delight, that it still lay within his power to make Julian Bashir laugh.
The space wasn’t particularly large, but they could sit on the floor together, side-by-side, quite comfortably and look out into the darkness.
“This actually worked?” said Bashir.
“Incredibly, yes.”
“Tunok must have done his nut.”
“Oh, I only did it once or twice,” said Garak. Three times, to be precise, but who was counting? Apart from Tunok. Who didn’t count.
“Took pity on him, did you?”
“Doctor, I thought you knew by now that there’s no pity in me.”
“Hmm.”
In fact, Garak had stopped amusing himself this way because he’d been afraid. Afraid that if he misbehaved too much they might decide he was far too much trouble after all and pass him up the line. Pack him off to Earth, perhaps, or worse. A shame, really, since the peace and quiet – and the simple fact of knowing he was not under direct observation – had been helpful. He had no intention of saying any of this to Bashir.
Garak sat with his hands resting on his knees. Bashir leaned his back against the wall, folded his arms, and said, “What was that about earlier?”
“What?”
“All that guff about people putting gadgets in your brain.”
“It’s… happened before, Julian.”
“Yes. When you were in the Order.”
“Meaning…?”
“This is Starfleet we’re talking about—”
“You don’t think Starfleet would cross a line like that?” Garak felt a familiar sinking feeling. He hadn’t been able to get Sisko to listen, not really, and he’d been hoping for more from Bashir.
The younger man sighed. “You know, Garak, I’m absolutely knackered. So, for one night only, how about we cut to the chase and you tell me what’s really worrying you?”
Garak looked at the stars. The stars, which had – until quite recently – been completely unfamiliar, glinted back, but, as usual, gave no helpful insight. “Two men arrived,” he said. “They wanted to take me away with them.”
“Take you away? Where?”
“I don’t know, doctor.”
“Who were they?”
“I don’t know that either.”
There was a pause as Bashir digested this. “What’s your best guess?”
Garak, in turn, gave some thought as to how he should answer. Bashir already had some questions about his state of mind. He didn’t want him dismissing his worries out of hand. “If I said…”
“Go on.”
“If I said that I thought they were from a clandestine intelligence organisation operating within your government about which even Captain Sisko seems unaware, what would you say?”
“I’d say…” said Bashir, after a moment or two, “that I need to give that scenario some consideration.”
“Yes?”
“I mean, some careful consideration.” Bashir rubbed his hand across his mouth. “Have you been all right here on your own?”
Ah, so first they must indeed establish the current extent of his paranoia. Good luck with that, doctor. I’m increasingly unable to judge. “I’ve not been on my own,” Garak pointed out. “I’ve had a lengthy conversation every day with Lieutenant Commander Blok.”
“I’m not talking about your interrogator, Garak.”
“Oh, so I am being interrogated? And everyone was quite insistent earlier that it was a debriefing—”
“Garak—”
“I’ve also had the company of the relentlessly attentive Lieutenant Tunok.”
“Well, he’s not turned up dead yet, so you must be getting something out of the relationship.”
“He doesn’t read, he doesn’t listen to music, he’s not interested in politics, and his conversational skills appear to have atrophied before he learned to speak. We’ve had a marvellous time together. I imagine he admires me as much as I admire him.”
“Yes, you sound like peas in a pod. You still haven’t answer my question.”
“I know.”
“Have you been all right here on your own?”
Well, really, what did Bashir think? He’d been cold, alone, afraid, and under constant supervision. He’d spent a large portion of each day in an interrogation room. There was practically nothing available that he liked to eat or drink, nor had he found any books or music on file that were familiar. His wider computer access was severely restricted, and they were cagey about talking to him about the progress of the war. He’d thought about asking if there was any sewing around the place that needed doing, but he didn’t want to sound like he’d gone mad. Which he hadn’t. He was fairly sure he hadn’t.
“I’ve been fine,” he lied.
Bashir gave him a look. What was that word the Chief sometimes used? Oh yes. Bollocks. “Oh well,” said the doctor, dryly. “Could be worse.”
Garak nearly laughed. “You know, doctor, I’ve stopped saying that to myself.”
“Oh yes?”
“Every time I do, things take a turn for the worse.”
“Huh,” said Bashir. “Maybe that thing Starfleet’s put in your head has given you the power to alter reality with your thoughts. You should start saying, ‘Could be better’. See where that takes us.”
“If only that were true. Can we change the subject?”
“Sorry.”
They sat and stared at nothing. Garak focused on his breathing.
“You know,” said Bashir, “I would’ve assumed this space would be too tight for you.”
This wasn’t, Garak thought, a little impatiently, changing the subject. “Sometimes, doctor, it seems to me it would help enormously if the whole world disappeared, or at least shrank to something more manageable.”
“Ah,” said Bashir, nodding wisely. “A paradox.”
“Life’s never straightforward, is it?”
“No,” agreed Bashir. They sat quietly until Garak’s breathing steadied, and then the doctor said, “Did I ever tell you about the time I did a runner?”
“You did what?”
“Two days after I found out what my parents did to me. I ran away from home.”
Oh, thought Garak, he does understand… And he felt in that moment that he had never loved this man more.
“I didn’t get very far. I wasn’t really making an effort. I just… didn’t want to be around them. So I ambled off one evening. Hadn’t packed anything. Thought I’d see how far I got. I was only gone a day, if that. My dad found me walking down the road. Gave me the bollocking of my life. What did you think you were doing. Imagine if we’d had to call the authorities, that kind of thing. Heaven forbid we attracted the wrong kind of attention. Anyway. I didn’t do that again.”
“Until you joined Starfleet, you mean.”
Bashir turned his head to look at him. “Yes.” He seemed to sound pleased. To be understood, Garak assumed. Or hoped. “Until then.”
I knew I could trust you, thought Garak.
“Are you coming with us?” said Bashir.
“What?”
“When we set off for DS9. I’m assuming you want to come along?”
“Yes. Well. I hope so. I asked the captain if I could.”
“Want me to have a word?”
Garak thought about that. “No,” he said. He’d rather know where he stood with Sisko on his own terms.
“Mm, well, try not to worry either way. Because I’m not leaving you here.”
On your own.
“I believe you, you know,” said Bashir.
“What?”
“I believe you.”
People didn’t say that very often to Garak. But other people didn’t matter. “Yes,” he said. “I know.”
“After careful consideration,” said Bashir.
A whole five minutes, thought Garak. No, this was the most he’d ever loved this man.
They leaned against each comfortably. Garak, warmed, let his mind wander. What would he do, he wondered, if those people ever tried to come at him through Bashir? He didn’t have to think long or hard for the answer. He’d kill them, of course, with his bare hands… Would they try that? Would they harm him? Or, worse, would they try to recruit him to their cause? Bashir would make a good agent. Not that stupid holosuite game. Everything else. The intelligence, the quick thinking, the nerve, the practiced concealment, the ability to live life between the lines… Yes, they’d probably try to recruit him. Wasn’t that what Garak had intended, back at the start of all of this? Good luck with that, he told his shadow colleagues. This man has his own agenda when it comes to people like us. He’s more likely to recruit you…
Garak closed his eyes. Put his head against the young man’s shoulder. Felt Bashir’s hand upon his arm. He tried to pretend that they were sitting under the sun on the vast empty shores of the southern continent, but some reason he couldn’t summon up the image as easily as he might have done in the past. All that came to mind was his quarters on DS9. The rest, it seemed, was slipping away, like a dream that could not withstand the harsh light of morning.
I don’t know about you, Julian, he thought, but I’m long past ready to go home.
julian comes back from internment camp 371 speaking nearly fluent klingon. mainly because the only way to pass the time during the long, lonely nights is to ask martok to tell him traditional klingon stories and martok insists that julian turns the UT off to preserve the nuance.
garak tells himself that this is Fine, even though julian hasn’t bothered to learn kardasi. in the five years they’ve known each other. even though julian and martok are laughing and joking together in the runabout back. it’s good to know more languages, of course. what is not Fine is julian insisting from that point on that they only read klingon stories for their book club. ”they’re so engaging”, julian says. ”so romantic and muti-facetted! so much better that that last play you forced on me-”
and this is where garak decides that sto’vo’kor might be a good place for general martok to go, actually
