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Peja's Wonderful World of Makebelieve Import
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Published:
2020-11-05
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2,107
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Finding Home

Summary:

Series: DS9
Rating: G
Codes: DS9 G, B
Summary: There is a big difference between living somewhere and having a home of your own.
Author's Note: I wrote this as a gift to my friend, Charlene, who just bought her very first real home today. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: Paramount is filled with blood sucking corporate weenies.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Work Text:

 

 

Finding Home
by JA Ingram
cjjingram@localnet.com


The house was small and simply designed, but efficient and charming. Years on the station and the last several months spent living in the hard composite tent in the Cardassian refugee camps had taught Garak that he didn't need much though.

After the Dominion withdrew and Cardassia had been left in ruins, he'd returned to his home world to help with the great reconstruction. From patriot to exile to...what was he now? A Prodigal Son returning to his father's home?

Not quite, Garak thought.

Tain's home was gone; a pile of stone and glass that had been hauled away leaving fresh, clean earth and a foundation in which to build anew. He could have built his new home there he supposed, but what would have been the point? He'd never felt like Tain's house was his home, never felt a bond with the land in which it sat. He had been born there, raised there, his parents had lived there, but he had never felt like the majestic walls of Tain's fortress was anything more than what it was; a prison of secrets and lies. He'd sold it to a developer and bought this land instead.

High on a hill so it overlooked the vast countryside and nestled on the banks of a newly constructed lake, it was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. Oh, there were more majestic sights in this vast universe, but this...

Garak looked around the small house and felt some strange emotion fill his chest. If there was one good thing to come from the destruction of the Cardassian State and its vast cities, it was this. Without a Cardassian Military State to bar the way of progress, and the will to survive superseding stubborn pride, the broken Cardassian people had allowed the Federation to come in and help restore their world. Nineteen months later, Cardassia was returning to its former glory.

Not the glory it had once enjoyed before a madman had sold his people to the Dominion for nothing more than a tin crown, but back to what it had been when its people called themselves 'Hebetians' and lived a simpler life. Soil reclaimers, weather nets, and thousands of relief workers had transformed much of the dry, inhospitable countryside into a virtual paradise. It would be another four years or so before Cardassia Prime was fully restored, but they were well on their way.

Garak ran his hands along the smooth imported maple wood railing of the staircase and admired the beautiful craftsmanship that had gone into its construction. His home was small, much smaller than most Cardassian homes, but more than suitable for a single person. It was a two story stone structure with large windows to let in the light and warmth of the sun. The floors and trim were an attractive maple color and the walls were smooth and painted in tasteful, muted tones. His favorite room by far was his kitchen though.

One wall of the kitchen was almost entirely made of lightly tinted glass that seemed to open up the entire room and make it seem much larger than it was. He had purchased the very best appliances he could afford; a new deluxe double replicator unit, a reclaimer, and a recycler; he'd even bought a new refresher unit and had it installed in the kitchen, disdaining the need for a separate laundry area. He imagined folding his laundry on the rustic dining table he'd made from salvaged wood and smiled. His skills as a carpenter had served him well in constructing this house.

He'd always loved working with his hands, be it tailoring, garden work, or carpentry, he had always enjoyed the feeling that came when he completed a project; seeing the tangible rewards that came from good, hard labor never failed to bring a smile to his face.

When he'd first started to build his home, several of his Cardassian neighbors had gawked at him and whispered in disdain that his years as an exile among the humans and Bajorans had warped his perceptions. It was true, he supposed. The house was of a far more efficient design than most Cardassian architecture, but the simple lines and energy efficient nature of the small home seemed more in keeping with its surroundings than the ornate and sprawling complexes most of his peers preferred. By the time construction was completed, several other homes of a similar design had begun to pop up around him, so at least he knew he wasn't entirely alone in his opinions.

Let them call me a Bajoran peasant in a Cardassian's skin, Garak thought happily as he walked out into the sunlight and picked up his gardening tools. What do I care if they whisper that I've become a Federation convert? For the first time in his life he felt completely at home and at peace with his surroundings.

He dug into the dark, rich soil and planted the fist seeds of his garden, watering each one carefully and imagining how the lush blooms would look as they framed the little red house on the hill. He'd planned two gardens; a pleasure garden in the front and a kitchen garden in the back. He'd even installed a refrigeration unit and cupboard in his kitchen in anticipation of his harvest. From the corner of his eye he watched with amusement as his nearest neighbors gathered in their yards to watch him prepare his garden with interest. He suspected that soon he'd start yet another fashion; gardening. Well, Cardassians were nothing if not competitive, he thought. By this time next year there would be dozens of these small, simple homes with their lovely little gardens and his odd little house would merely fade into the landscape, but he didn't find the idea at all upsetting. In fact, the idea of being just one of many was quite appealing indeed.

Life was good; nearly perfect, in fact. Only one thing could make it better...

"What are you planting?"

Garak froze then turned slowly to the lilting and familiar voice behind him. "Dr. Bashir?"

Julian stood there, his tan face glowing in the sun as he admired the small structure. "I like your house. Did you do all this by yourself?" He walked up to one of the shutters and ran his fingers over the detailed woodwork admiringly.

"I did," Garak said, frowning slightly. "What are you doing here?"

"I transferred in. The Federation is teaming with the Cardassian government to build several new hospitals and I've been assigned to this area," Julian said, awarding him with a warm smile. "I just thought I'd pop by and see what you've been up to."

Garak took in the large duffle bag sitting on the ground next to the doctor and asked, "And your lovely fiancée? Will she be joining you?"

"My--?" He frowned. "Who, Ezri?"

"Yes."

"We're not engaged," Julian told him. "In fact, Ezri left the station almost ten months ago. She's on Betazed helping with the reconstruction there."

"Oh." Garak allowed that information to sink in. He got to his feet and brushed the dirt from his knees. "Where are you staying, if I may ask?"

Julian shrugged, "I was supposed to be staying in the barracks with the other doctors assigned here, but they're a little short on beds. They're supposed to be finding me a place but, well, you know how it is. There aren't many hotels left on Cardassia these days."

"I have a guest room," Garak offered.

"I couldn't--"

"No, really." Garak stopped him. "It's not much, but it's better than a tent if you'd be interested."

Julian met his eyes gratefully, "Well, if you're sure..."

"Come on in, doctor." Garak invited, opening the door to his home. "I'll show you where you can put your things."

"Thanks," Julian said, slinging the bag over his shoulder and walking inside. He paused at the doorway and glanced around. "Very nice."

"Thank you."

"This isn't at all what I was expecting."

Garak looked at him with amusement. "And what were you expecting, doctor?"

"Actually..." The doctor grinned crookedly. "From what Colonel Kira told me, I was expecting you to be living in a basement or something."

"I was, for a while," Garak admitted. "but things have changed, luckily for the better."

"Tell me about it," Julian said, following him up the stairs. "A couple of years ago we were at war with Cardassia and now we're poised to admit them into the Federation--before Bajor, no less. Talk about a change for the better."

"Here it is," Garak said, opening the door and showing him the room which held a double bed, a nightstand, and a simple bureau. Julian put his bag on the bed and looked out the window toward the lake. "It's not much, but you should be comfortable."

"It's fine," Julian assured him. "Nice view."

Garak leaned on the door jamb and nodded. "That's why I chose this as the house site."

"I suppose being the head of Starfleet relations on Cardassia has its rewards."

"You heard about that?" Garak asked in surprise.

"I've kept up on your career. Congratulations by the way."

He shrugged, "It's merely an honorary title."

Julian offered him a wry grin, "Hardly. From what I've heard you're the one responsible for pushing through the treaty with the Federation."

"I merely suggested to the new Prime Minister that it would be in our best interests to turn old enemies into new friends if we were to rebuild."

"Hm, I see. So the simple tailor is now merely a simple civil servant and not the author of the New Cardassia." Julian teased.

"Exactly." Garak smiled in return.

"Ah. Well it's good to know that some things haven't changed then." Julian said with a warm expression. "Plain and simple, right to the end."

"As always," Garak agreed.

"After all that's happened the last several years plain and simple is a welcome relief." Julian sighed.

Garak felt himself flush with pleasure and quickly changed the subject. "The bathroom is down the hall and to your right," he said, withdrawing. "Feel free to wash up and help yourself to anything you need."

"Garak," Julian said stopping him.

"Yes?"

"I have something to confess," Julian looked down at the floor, not meeting his eyes. "I...came here hoping you'd let me stay."

"I thought as much," he admitted.

"What gave me away?"

"If there is one thing Cardassian has plenty of, ot's tents and cots."

Julian chuckled, "Yes, well, I suppose I could have thought up something a bit less transparent."

"You don't ever have to make up an excuse to come here, doctor." Garak said quietly. "My home is your home."

"That's kind of you to say."

"Not at all," he said, shaking his head. "You...Doctor, you made life on the station bearable. As long as I have a home, my doors will never be closed to you."

"About that..." Julian looked up, "I want to apologize to you about how we left things on the station. I was, well, I could blame it on stress but the simple fact is that I was a total shit toward you for the last several months you were on the station and I'm sorry."

Garak met his gaze steadily, "I was rather unpleasant myself. I understand and I hope you accept my apologies as well."

"Apology accepted." Julian held out his hand. "I missed you, Garak. Since you've been gone, lunch just hasn't been the same."

Garak took his hand in a warm grip and squeezed. "Thank you."

Their hands parted and an awkward silence ensued. Finally, Julian hitched his thumb toward his bags. "I guess I'll unpack now. I promise I'll be out of your hair in a few days--a week, tops."

"No need, stay as long as you like."

"Really?"

"I am the head of Starfleet relations and you are in Starfleet," Garak said. "It's the least I can do."

"Thank you," Julian said warmly. "I really did miss you, Garak."

"And I you. I'll have dinner on the table when you're finished up here." He said withdrawing.

"Great! I'm starving," Julian said happily as he began to unpack.

Garak made his way down the stairs towards the kitchen, a wide grin lighting up his face. Ah yes, he thought, now it feels like home.

He listened to the sounds of the doctor's footsteps against the hard floor and breathed in the lingering scent of his spicy aftershave.

Everything is as it should be.


THE END

Notes:

This orphaned work was originally on Pejas WWOMB posted by author JA Ingram.
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