The BLTS Archive - Cold Is The Color of Loneliness by ViccyE. (ycciv@hotmail.com) --- This is my first attempt on fanfic, so be gentle with me, I bruise easily. All typos are due to my trembling, nervous fingers. Disclaimer: DS9, Garak and Bashir and all other canon Trek personnel aren't mine. So if you have a problem with them, go and harass Paramount. The story here however is mine, so if you have a problem with it, keep it to yourself. Praises accepted as well as reasonable critique. Enjoy Warning: This story contains m/m situations (g/b). Sorry, no sex (at least not shown. . . ) but some kissing and nuzzling. (Come on, give the scared first-timer a break!!) If that isn't for you, then why are you on a trekslash page? Also a minor angst warning!! Go back if you want to keep your innocence!!! If not, proceed (grin): Spoilers: Well, in a way, yes. If you haven't seen 'Fascination' some of the dialog doesn't make any sense. Set after 'Life Signs'. Consider yourself warned. I'm so grateful to my beta reader Rika Mantu!! Babe, without your support this little story would never have seen the light of day. Thousand thanks!! --- Garak sighed as he walked to the Replimat. It had been a terrible day at work. Now that Kai Winn was coming to DS9 once again, every Bajoran on the station had to have a new dress and they all came to Garak's. Not that they specially loved his tailoring. He just happened to be the only tailor on station. And now, after ten hours of fitting, showing different catalogues and hemming while listening to innuendos, sneering and even open hostility, he was finally able to just sit down with a glass of Rokassa juice and relax. *Great Gul! I had almost, just almost forgot how much they hate me. Well, not especially *me*, but. . . * Garak's thoughts were interrupted by a friendly touch on his shoulder. Startled, Garak looked up to see doctor Bashir smiling at him. "Good evening, Garak. Do you mind if I. . . " Bashir said, and nodded at the empty chair opposite of the tailor. Garak smiled. "No, of course not. Please, do sit down." After the doctor had sat down the tailor continued, "Haven't seen you here for days. Keeping busy at the sickbay?" Bashir took a sip from his teacup, leaned back and began to talk about his workday. Garak wasn't really that interested in the minor mishaps that had brought some action to the sickbay, but he really loved the way Bashir's eyes lit up as he talked about his job. The young man really was a good doctor. And besides, listening to the doctor was a much better way to spend the evening than brooding and sinking slowly towards self pity. ". . . with a huge serving-fork. You should have seen the look in his face!!! He just kept repeating that he didn't know what had made the chef so mad. I mean really! Why on earth would you go to a Klingon restaurant if you aren't aware of the way Klingons react when you criticize and complain about the food?" "Or if you have any idea of what their food actually tastes like. . " Garak couldn't resist. Bashir was just taking another sip of his tea and started to laugh and cough at the same time. Fortunately Chief O'Brien who was just walking by stopped and started to pat the choking doctor on the back. As it became clear that doctor Bashir was ok, O'Brien was about to leave, but Bashir asked him to join them. Chief looked at Garak and when the Cardassian forced a tiny smile to his lips and nodded, he pulled up a chair and sat down. Bashir looked closely at the Chief and frowned. He hadn't noticed the dark circles around O'Brien's eyes before. "Is something wrong, Chief?" O'Brien grimaced. "Just the usual. It seems I can't do anything with Keiko down on Bajor. And now when I don't even know when she's coming back. . . It's torture. She said it might be a few more days but it could be even months! And I don't seem to sleep that well alone. . . " Bashir nodded at him sympathetically. " I know. I don't think people are meant to be alone. When you're not involved with anyone, it's as if you're constantly looking for something, someone." Garak closed his eyes as if in pain. *Oh no! Not this. . . * O'Brien smiled wearily. "Yes, I think I‘ve noticed you've been spending some time at Quark's lately. Dabo must be a very interesting game. . . " Bashir blushed. "I. . . I like it . . . " He paused and glanced slyly at Garak. "Well, the girls are dressed quite nicely and since a friend of mine is a tailor, I am able to talk about the current fashions. . . " He took a deep breath. "But seriously, I haven't had much luck with women lately. I guess after that thing with Ambassador Troi and the way I acted towards Major Kira, I've been feeling a bit uncomfortable." O'Brien looked shocked. "You're not still thinking about Kira, are you?" Bashir laughed. "Of course not." Then there was a flicker of pain in his eyes. "Besides, after the death of Vedek Bareil I'd say I'm the last person she'd want to be with right now." He sighed, trying to shake away the morbid thoughts. "But I really had a good time at the Festival. . . " The Chief's eyes clouded again. "So did I. I'm just glad Keiko was able to come here and we could spend some time together. . . Gods, I miss her!" The station's temperature was always the same so Garak realised that the suddenly cold feeling came from the inside. "I know. But think about how Keiko felt when she had to leave you behind. That wasn't easy either. But it's not a permanent arrangement and when she comes back you can. . . " "Yes. *When* she comes back. . . " Garak had had enough. He got up abruptly and looked down at O'Brien. "Good Gul, Chief! It's three hours to Bajor. It's not as if she's on the other side of the galaxy. Surely you can go and visit her sometimes. You're not all that indispensable around here. I don't think the station will blow up if you take a day off!" Then he turned around and left the two officers staring at each other. Bashir was astonished. What was that all about? They had just. . . *Oh great Gods*. He hadn't realized how it had sounded like. Of course Garak had reacted badly when they complained about their loneliness. And to whom they had complained at. . . Damn! How could he have been so stupid?? "That Cardie is *weird*" O'Brien bristled. " What on earth got into him. I think I have enough problems without him freaking out." Bashir's freezing gaze stopped him. "*What?*" Bashir just shook his head. --- Garak was shaking when he reached his quarters. * Stop it, Elim. You overreacted. They. . . *he* didn't mean anything bad. He just wasn't thinking. You know he's not aware of how you feel about hearing such things. . . * He poured himself a glass of Kanar. Gul, it was so hard not to sink into self pity, so he thought he'd drown himself into Kanar instead. Just sitting here in his quarters alone. Drinking alone. Always alone. And lonely. Well, not always. There were those wonderful moments at the Replimat, dining with doctor Bashir. The only one on this station who treated him as a person, not just another Cardassian. But now even those those lunches were rare. The doctor spent almost all of his free time playing racquetball with the chief. O'Brien. Garak was well aware of O'Brien's feelings towards him. Towards all 'Cardies'. And he admitted that it bothered him. It didn't matter how the *chief* thought about him, but what if he tried to convert doctor Bashir away from his relationship with Garak. *What relationship?? He thinks we're just friends. We *are* just friends. But. . . Stop it! You've been through this in your mind a thousand times already. Isn't this getting a bit boring?* Maybe next time that he was tired and annoyed he should avoid the Promenade altogether. Emotional scenes in public weren't really something he wanted to do often. Or at all. It wasn't in his best interest if he started flaunting his bruised feelings in front of everyone. In front of the sneering Bajorans. And in the Replimat. . . Thank Gul it didn't happen at Quark's. Less people. Garak realised that his rationalization was driving the pain away. Or at least hiding it, smothering it somewhere so deep he almost couldn't feel it. He laughed a bit ruefully. If you got something out of Obsidian Order's training, it was a analytic, disciplined mind. He looked at his half empty glass of Kanar. *That's really disgusting, Elim. So now you're an outcast spy who's one step from becoming a drunk. Lonely old lovesick drunk. Doesn't sound as good as Gul Garak, does it?* The annoying door chime ended his train of thought. Damn. He had just beginning to get a grip of himself and now this. Gul, why couldn't they just. . . "Go away!" --- Bashir pushed the chime again. No way was he going to leave Garak alone now. Garak was his friend and he had hurt his friend. He really needed to apologize for his rude behavior and try to explain. To make things well. Garak had obviously been extremely distressed and it did good to talk to someone when you felt that bad. And Bashir knew that he was the only person on station Garak could talk to. Not that it meant that the tailor would talk, but it was worth the try. And besides, since there was no counselor currently on board the station, it was in a way his job as a doctor to take care of the. . . Who was he kidding? He just couldn't forget the pained look in Garak's blue eyes. "It's just me. Julian. Let me in." No answer. "Open the door Garak, or I will ask OPS to override the lock. As the CMO I can do it without an explanation, you know that." The door slid open. Bashir stepped carefully into the room. It was hard to see the tailor, since the light was so dim. "Ah, Garak, could you put the lights up a bit?" he stammered, feeling suddenly nervous. "No. There's nothing you need to see in here. Besides, you're not staying." "I'm not going anywhere. I came to see if you're alright." He paused. "And to apologize." "So now you have. Leave me. . . " "Alone? No, I don't think I will. You've been alone far too long already." Bashir sat on the other end of the sofa Garak was sprawled on. He looked at the glass of Kanar on the table, frowning. Garak saw the look and was suddenly amused. He knew what the doctor was thinking. The last time, the only time, Bashir had seen him drunk he had almost punched the doctor. And that nosy Ferengi. Or anyone else who was near. "Oh don't worry, doctor. We Cardassians aren't really violent when we're drunk. Only when we're really annoyed or high on some darned implant. . . And besides, that's my first drink today if you don't count that glass of Rokassa juice." Bashir blushed. Was he really that transparent? He cleared his throat. "Sorry. I just thought that after the things we said, you'd. . . " He tried again." I just thought you might want to talk about it. I know our words hurt you. But it was never my intention to do so! I'm *not* that kind of a person . . . " Garak wasn't amused anymore. "So you're feeling guilty" he growled, getting on his feet, moving close to Bashir who was now also on his feet. "Great Gul,doctor. The last thing I need right now is to hear your sanctimonious Starfleet platitudes. Now that you've apologised, your conscience is clean. And you can get out of here." The cold feeling was back in his stomach. Bashir looked at the tailor. He had wanted to make things better but somehow the situation had just worsened. Garak wasn't just hurt anymore. Now he was angry as well. Angry at him. Garak saw the tears starting to roll down doctor Bashir's face. And that was really it. He grabbed the young man's shoulders and shook him. "You come here and claim I'm hurt. Now if *I'm* the one who's hurt, why the hell are *you* crying?" "You just don't get it," Bashir sobbed. "When I cause you pain, I hurt myself too. You're my best friend and I. . . I care about you. And I don't want to lose you." And the young man collapsed against Garak, crying now in earnest. The tailor held the doctor up. He was astonished. For a while he had really thought that the younger man had just felt sorry for him (and for himself) and the attempts to make amends were some twisted form of pity. But this was no pity or guilt. This was desperation. All this because of the fear of losing Garak's friendship? Over some thoughtless words? He meant that much to the young man? He patted Bashir's back, feeling somehow better. He murmured to the crying man," There, there. It's alright. You didn't hurt me on purpose and of course I forgive you. Calm down. . . " Garak held the doctor closer and moved his hands up and down his back in a soothing motion. After a while the young man stopped trembling. Garak sighed. It felt really good holding someone in his arms. Holding *Bashir* in his arms. Even if he was just comforting the young man who was now resting his head on Garak's shoulder. Who was breathing very fast. Who was snuggling closer, his face buried in the Cardassian's neck. Who was now holding him definitely tighter and nibbling his neckridge. . . *What the. . . * Garak pushed the doctor away from him, looking straight into his eyes. Afraid of what he might find in there. But there was no pity or guile in those hazel eyes. Just lust. And now embarrassment. *Well now. . .* Garak smiled. Bashir was blushing furiously. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. . . " Garak laid a finger on his lips. "You really don't lie very well. Of course you meant it. Just as I mean this-" and he leaned forward to kiss the startled young man on the lips. Bashir could hear his heart pounding. This was something he had dreamed of for a long time. He sighed happily when the kiss ended and Garak held him close. Then he stiffened. "Garak, I don't want to ruin our friendship. I enjoy this, but I cherish our . . . " The rest of the doctor's protest was muffled by another kiss. The Cardassian moved his mouth to Bashir's ear. " I don't think this will ruin anything. You could say I'm deepening our bond. . . " And then there were no other words, as he started to nibble the Doctor's ear. --- Doctor Bashir stretched and looked at the chronometer. Oh good, it was almost time for his lunch break. It was quiet in the infirmary and he decided that it was better to get to the Replimat a bit early rather than let his friend wait. He smiled. His friend indeed. . . As he walked across the Promenade, he heard someone calling his name. As he turned to the voice, he saw Miles walking towards him, wearing civvies and carrying a bag. "Going somewhere, Chief?" O'Brien smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, to Bajor. I took a few days off. Commander Sisko said it was all right and I really do need some time with my family. Besides it's good to spend some holiday away from the station, all the fresh air and such." He blushed under the doctor's knowing gaze. " You should try some travelling too, might even find some of that adventure you used to want." Bashir looked towards the Replimat, seeing the familiar form of Garak just entering. "I don't know, Chief. I think I already have everything I ever wanted right here. . . " --- The End