Writing into Thin Air

A short new work!

When Chief Miles O'Brien walks into his shop, all 66 of Garak’s finally tuned inner alarms start blaring.  Garak is trained to notice the unusual: the closed door that is usually open; the odd arrangement of items on a desk; A Pad “accidentally” left under a stool at Quark’s.

Chief O'Brien never comes into his shop. He's never bought himself a shirt, never shopped for a gift, never even gotten his pants mended.  Professor O'Brien comes into the shop.  Chief O’Brien doesn't.

He certainly doesn't stroll in with an easy smile on his face and a box in his hands.

Garak goes on high alert, body tense and alert.

Is it a bomb?

A venomous Andorian Ice Snake?

It must be something awful; the man seems awfully pleased with himself. 

Chapter 30 is now up! It's been a looong time coming, but we finally get Stephen and Loki in the same room.

......

If Stephen had known the bulk of his job would be herding innumerable bulbous, slobbery creatures back to their respective dimensions-slash-galaxies-slash-planets, he might have thought twice about donning the mantle of Sorcerer Supreme.  He’d always wondered why Wong, as talented a sorcerer as himself, had seemed content with guarding the library.  Now he knew – Wong, unlike him, wasn’t an idiot.

He had just created another portal and was sneaking it up behind the beast when Loki popped out of nowhere and the creature, alerted by the noise, thundered away.

Stephen cursed.

Loki watched the retreating hairy butt with a frown.

“Why are you harassing a bilgesnipe?”

For those who have been following, I've posted the whole reworked and completed fic on AO3. It follows a what if of Second Skin .... what if there were consequences to Garak for going to Cardassia?

Read on:

New chapter up finally!

For all that he was good at them, probabilities bored Julian. They bored him precisely because he was good at them.  There was no challenge, no mystery.   Unlike people.  Julian found others unfathomable, especially their reactions to the most innocuous remarks.  He could never see the line that divided, say, a friendly inquiry into Mile’s eating habits from a blunt accusation that he was getting fat.  He either came on too strong or not at all.   Subtlety eluded him. 

This never discouraged him, however.  If Julian loved something more than a puzzle, it was a challenge.  Garak was both, and normally the game of getting Garak to agree with him – about the merit of a novel, or a piece of Federation policy – was enjoyable.  It was less enjoyable when Garak was suffering and refusing help. 

Which was why he arrived early to lunch, early enough to secure the table he wanted, one where if he angled his chair he could see into Garak’s shop without looking suspicious about it.  It was the first step in an admittedly convoluted treatment plan.  

A new chapter!

Yrggsdal shifted and twisted around him.  Loki’s grip tightened on his companions’ wrists.  Once his confidence had been as boundless as the branches he walked; now it was a fractured, taped-together.  The thought of slipping, of falling, was never far from his mind.  The fear weighted his steps, and it was a relief when he navigated the last branch that brought them to Asgard.  They appeared on the grounds of the Royal Wing, not far from Odin’s study in the tallest tower. 

Brunhilde stumbled, her face blanched and pale.  “Norns, does that get any less appalling?’

“Yes,” said Loki, at the same time as Fandral said “No.”

Their return had been noted.  Above, the black shapes of Huginn and Muninn circled lower. 

Garak

He didn’t want to get up.  His skin and scales felt half-numb, unreal.  His mind struggled weakly, like the animals that fell into the mud pits near Illispia .  His bones ached, especially his wrists, a throbbing pain that drummed in time to his heartbeat.  Worst of all, he was cold, a bone deep cold that no external heat could soothe. 

Julian had promised it would get better, but he hadn’t sugar coated the road that lay ahead.  The drug would take weeks to fade from his system, the symptoms longer,  lingering ghost-like, for months, before he was entirely free.  Months.  Months, and It had barely been a week since the attack, had been only five days since his first surgery, and he could barely stand to open his eyes.  Months, and he still had to face two more surgeries and countless hours of physical therapy. 

Julian had told him all this with a hand on his shoulder, with the promise of support, with warmth and affection.  He was grateful to Julian, he was, but it was a bitter gratitude, darkened by resentment at how easy Julian always made it all sound, at how casually he threw Garak a lifeline of hope as if he had only to grasp it, as if he did not have to haul himself inch by blistering inch back to some kind of normalcy.  Julian could never understand his exhaustion, his reluctance, and Garak both worshipped and hated him for standing there forever with his hand out to save him, when all he wanted to do was drown.

Tekeny Ghemor

“You’re up early, Constable.”

The Changeling didn’t seem surprised when Ghemor spoke, though he had approached quietly and from the shadows near the stairwell up to the second level, where Odo could be seen every morning observing the Promenade below.  He knew of Odo, of course – anyone involved in the Occupation did – but he had not spoken to him during or after their flight from Cardassia and he wished to before he left.  Kira was fond of Odo, and the fact he knew nothing about him or his kind made him uneasy.

The bland face turned towards him and Ghemor suppressed an instinctive recoiling at the unnaturalness of it.  In contrast to the smoothness of his features, his voice was rough as ground glass.  It reminded Ghemor of those Bajorans whom the soldiers would sometimes force to drink acid.

“I require little in the way of rest – unlike Cardassians.  Is there any reason you’re prowling the corridors at this hour, Legate?”

On Cardassia, a constable wouldn’t dare question him.  He let his irritation curl into a smile.  “Although I appreciate the hospitality, Cardassians are used to harder beds and the softness disagrees with me.”

“One hopes Mathen will be more to your liking.”

Such a polite dislike was almost Cardassian. 

I'm back! Sorry for the wait. Julian arrives on the scene.

In this chapter, Odo investigates something odd that might just be tied to Garak!

Without the need to eat, wash, dress or use any kind of facility, Odo’s morning routine was understandably short.  He woke from his regeneration, shifted into his uniform and was out the door before five minutes had passed. 

He moved with his usual brisk energy.  As he often told Quark – who claimed he was being smug, of all things – regeneration was vastly superior to sleeping.  As he informed Quark, with a significant look, he could regenerate at any time, thus avoiding a regular schedule that lawbreakers could take advantage of.  Further, he suffered no insomnia, experienced no dreams, needed no alarm and escaped the grogginess – and irritability – that plagued Solids. 

Therefore, unlike the Bajorans currently on the much-hated night shift, Odo was alert and aware when he walked into the security office at 4 a.m.

Hi everyone! I've started a new Garak work on AO3, just posted the second chapter. It's about the fall-out from Second Skin - when Tain and the Order are not so willing to let Garak's actions go unpunished.

It was late in the afternoon of a long day that Thor and Loki were at last able to snatch a moment of much-needed and much-longed for rest.   Odin had been running them ragged in the weeks since their return from Kotheim.  There was training – their normal training and Loki’s training with Brunhilde that Thor always managed to join – and their duties and Thor’s lessons (which Loki always managed to join) and meetings upon meetings with councils and committees.  They had just dragged themselves away from a two hour council meeting and escaped to their wing.  They made for Loki’s rooms for the simple reason they were fifty yards closer.