The BLTS Archive - Green Grow the Rushes
by Charlene (charlene.vickers@gmail.com)

---

Stephen's Color Challenges: It's Green, Blue
Christmas, You look good in Red, and The Golden Rule

Disclaimer: Paramount owns Star Trek.

---

"I hate vegetation. It's green."

"That's the daftest thing I've ever heard you say," Bashir
said, looking back at him. "Are you dehydrated?"

"Green can be pleasant on a fabric," Garak continued.
"Fabrics don't smell, they don't carry diseases..." He held
up a hand. "They don't give you rashes."

Julian stopped to pull out his medkit. "You are the biggest
baby I've ever known. How you survived the-"

"The Cardassian Gardeners' Union?"

Julian gave him a small smile. "Ah, yes. The 'Gardeners'
Union'. I was wondering that."

"One must do what one can to earn a living," he replied with
an exaggerated sigh. "And I was on Romulus at the time; most
Romulan vegetation is red. I look good in red. Also, it
doesn't cause contact dermatitis."

"Not in Cardassians," Julian muttered as he healed the mass
of hives on Garak's hands and wrists. "Humans, on the other
hand...most Romulan plants contain urushiol oil. It causes
an immediate allergic reaction." He clicked off the dermal
regenerator. "How's that?"

He flexed his fingers. "Better, thank you. Had I known that
Xmirsan vegetation was so corrosive, I would have been more
careful. And I would have suggested Chief O'Brien for the
mission."

Julian looked up, then rummaged around in his medkit.
"Here," he said, handing Garak a pair of fluorescent
chartreuse gloves. "They don't make much of a fashion
statement, but they'll protect your skin."

Garak looked at them doubtfully. "They're green," he said.

"Surgical items usually are."

"Hm." Garak gave them another look, then slipped the gloves
on. "I still think the Chief would have been a better
choice. I may have had horticultural experience, but
O'Brien's wife is a botanist. He's bound to have picked
something up from her."

Julian picked up his scythe again. "Are you wishing a skin
disease on Miles?" he asked. "Elim, you have heard of the
Golden Rule, haven't you? Do unto others..."

"Altruism is hardly a Cardassian trait, Julian," he pointed
out.

"That may be so, but Miles is off on that religious
pilgrimage so I doubt you could get him to replace you even
if you wanted."

Garak frowned at him. "Religious pilgrimage?"

Julian nodded. "To Graceland. The real Graceland. It'll be
the second time he's been there."

"But I thought Mrs. O'Brien..." He shook his head. "What is
this 'Graceland' anyway?"

"It's the home of *the* Elvis," he said, turning back to the
trail and beginning to sing, waving his arms around. "You
know: 'Treat me like a fooool', 'Are you looonesome,
toniiight', 'I'll have a bluuuue Christmassss, without-'"

"Julian, perhaps we could dispense with the Vic Fontaine
hour?" Garak said, his eyes on the scythe. "It's not like
we're deprived of ancient musical displays on the station."

The doctor turned back to him. "You're just jealous."

Garak huffed.

---

The End