Icon by @ThatSpookyAgent. Call me Tir or Julian. 37. He/They. Queer. Twitter: @tirlaeyn. ao3: tirlaeyn. 18+ Only. Star Trek. The X-Files. Sandman. IwtV. OMFD. Definitionless in this Strict Atmosphere.
For @pollyna who had the lovely idea of Garak babysitting Molly, which I then corrupted into something a bit more spy vs. spy.
—
“You promise me you won’t invite me to dinner,” Garak said as he stood in the entrance to his shop, “yet you expect me to look after your child for you? Forgive me, but I think you’ve skipped some rather important steps.”
“Believe me, you were the last person on my list,” Chief O’Brien said. “But Keiko is still at her algae conference, Julian is workin’ the late shift, Jake went with Kira to Bajor, and now one of the dockin’ rings has gone offline.”
“And Constable Odo?” Garak asked.
“Workin’. Look, I just need you to look after her for an hour. Can you do that?”
“I suppose,” Garak said, looking down at the five-year-old girl who was eyeing him suspiciously.
“No. No supposin’,” Miles said, poking towards the Cardassian with a stern finger. “Can you do it?”
“Chief O’Brien!” Commander Sisko’s voice boomed out over Miles’ comm badge. Miles tapped the badge and muttered, “Be there in a moment.”
“It looks to me,” Garak said with a sickly sweet smile, “as if you don’t have much choice in the matter, Chief.”
Miles smiled bitterly at him before kneeling down to talk to Molly. “Molly, darlin’,” he said, taking her hand in his. “I’ll be back in a second, alright? You be good for Mr. Garak. If anythin’ happens, you call Constable Odo.”
Molly nodded, still too afraid to speak.
“Really, Chief, I don’t think Constable Odo will be at all necessary,” Garak said, sidling between father and child and ushering Molly into his shop. “Ms. Molly and I will have a perfectly wonderful time.”
—
Fifty-eight minutes. Miles managed to fix the problem in fifty-eight minutes, giving him just enough time to sprint over to Garak’s shop before the hour was up.
“Molly,” Miles panted as he braced himself against his knees. “Are… you… alright? Are you… hurt?”
“Daddy! Look at my new doll!” Molly exclaimed from where she was sitting by the counter. She held up a rag doll clearly made out of the off-cuts of various garments.
“Are you well, Chief?” Garak asked, a twinkle in his icy blue eyes. He leaned against the counter, a concerned look on his face. “You look a bit winded.”
“Mr. Garak let me pick out all the colors and her dress!” Molly said as she hopped off her stool and presented her new toy to her father. “She has black hair like me and her dress has yellow in it.” Miles gingerly took the doll from his daughter and looked it over. It was a fairly simple rag doll with hair made of black yarn, multiple beige colors stitched together to form a body (with one lavender streak that he guessed Molly had insisted on), and a dress made out of a red and yellow striped fabric with little lace details around the neck and sleeves. Some markers had been applied to the head in what could be generously described as a face.
“Suppose you had that just lyin’ around?” Miles asked, gesturing at Garak with the doll.
“He made it!” Molly said. “And I did the face. Mr. Garak’s good at making things.”
“Just part of being a tailor, my dear,” Garak said with a slight bow of his head.
Miles narrowed his eyes at him.
“Can I have my doll back?” Molly asked.
“Hmm? Yeah. Of course, sweetheart,” he said, handing her the doll. He crouched down so that he was at eye-level with his daughter. “Why don’t you start headin’ over to our flat. I’ll replicate us some ice cream as soon as I’m done talkin’ to Mr. Garak.”
“Ok!” Molly replied cheerfully before skipping out of the shop.
“Delightful child,” Garak commented as she left. “I regret having not made the acquaintance of Mrs. O’Brien. She must be a charming lady.”
“Did you put somethin’ inside that doll?” Miles growled as soon as Molly was out of hearing.
“Chief, I’m surprised at you! What would I hide inside a child’s doll?”
“Data rods, poisons, some sort of nano-communication device.”
“All wonderful ideas, but, I assure you, the thought did not occur to me.” He finished rolling up a skein of lace and deposited it in a drawer. “If, however, you want to be absolutely certain, I suppose you could always… tear apart the stitching.” He leaned forward on the counter. “I would simply recommend that Molly not be around to witness the destruction of her doll.”
“You’re insane.”
“So I’ve been told. Good evening, Chief O’Brien.”
—
“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with it.”
“Check it again.”
“I have checked it!” Julian exclaimed. “Again and again and again. Rom ran it through a check for data rods and other mechanics, I’ve done every test I know for poisons, and your theory about it containing some sort of drug has proven to be completely false.” Julian slid the doll across their table at Quark’s. “Face it, Miles. Garak isn’t doing anything nefarious. He made a doll for Molly. That’s it.”
“That can’t be it. He’s up to somethin’.”
“Well,” Julian said. “If you want to be absolutely certain…”
“Don’t you start,” Miles growled.
Julian grimaced at him. “What? I was just going to suggest you take the doll back to Garak,” he said, gesturing towards Garak’s shop. “He could open it up for you and resew it.” He took a sip of his beer. “But I think you’re being a bit paranoid.”
“Julian,” Miles said as he picked up the doll, “it’s statements like that that remind me you don’t have any kids.”
—
“Hmm… Let’s see. Yes, Vitarian wool perhaps wasn’t the wisest choice for batting, but it’s what I had on hand.” He looked up at a stunned Chief O’Brien then down at the dismantled doll. “Are you satisfied?”
“Give me that!” Miles said, yanking a hunk of wool off the table. He poked at it with his finger and held it up to the light. “There’s nothin’ in here,” he said.
“Very astute of you,” Garak commented. “Now, if you don’t mind, it will take a few minutes to reassemble this.”
“Nothin’ in there,” Miles repeated, letting the wool fall onto the counter.
Garak made a bemused face and began portioning off some thread. “Chief O’Brien,” he said as he expertly threaded his needle, “I know I’m not your favorite person on the station –”
“There’s an understatement.”
“ – but I don’t put deadly or dangerous things in children’s toys.” He began backstitching the doll’s side together. “Even Cardassians have their limits.”
“Yeah. I suppose.” Miles crossed his arms over his chest. “No hard feelin’s?” he asked.
“On the contrary,” Garak said as he stuffed the wool back into the doll and maneuvered it through its body, “this has given me new hope for the station.”
“Beg your pardon?”
“Well, it’s been so strange, having everyone trust me,” Garak said as he stitched the final touches onto the doll. He held it out to Miles. “It’s good to know there’s at least one cynical soul left.”
Miles nodded and carefully took the doll. “Glad to be of help,” he said. He gave Garak a suspicious once over before turning to leave the shop.
“Oh, Chief?” Garak said.
“What is it, Garak?” he growled.
“Since I did happen to use Vitarian wool, I’m afraid Molly’s doll is hand-wash only.” He smiled as he watched the gears turn in O’Brien’s head and his shoulders slump. “I hope that’s not too much of an inconvenience.”
Me: (watching the beginning of “In Purgatory’s Shadow”) Wow. I forgot how much the writers stepped on Garak and Bashir’s relationship. Julian seems really fed up with Garak.
Me: (watching Julian pull a phaser on Garak and remembering a post about this) Oh, wait, that’s not Julian.
Me: (fives seconds later) OH WAIT! That’s NOT JULIAN and the way they chose to portray this was BY HAVING HIM BE COLD TOWARDS GARAK.
“Ah, I take it you’re here to pick up Mr. Snuffles,” Garak said the moment the Bajoran woman entered his shop.
The woman narrowed her eyes at him and nodded. A little Bajoran girl, about five years old, peeked out from behind her skirt. “Is he ok?” the girl asked, looking cautiously from her mother to Garak and back.
“Well, it was somewhat touch and go at times,” Garak said before the mother could respond, “and he’s been missing you, of course, but I think,” he set the repaired stuffed tubba doll on the counter, “that he is feeling as good as new.”
The girl rushed forward, a big smile plastered across her face. “Mr. Snuffles!” she exclaimed, grabbing the stuffed tubba off the counter.
“Thank you,” her mother said cautiously. She straightened up to her full height and looked him directly in the eyes. “What do I owe you?”
“Not a thing,” Garak said with an easy smile.
The mother stiffened. “You expect me to believe that a Cardassian…?”
“Madam, I don’t expect you to believe anything,” Garak interrupted. “The facts of the matter are that the repair of the stuffed tubba –”
“Mr. Snuffles,” the girl corrected.
“Mr. Snuffles,” Garak amended, “is absolutely free. If you are intent on spending latinum in my shop, however, might I suggest one of these Vitarian wool scarves?” He gestured to a rack of scarves to his left. “Perfect for keeping out the chill.”
“Thank you, but I would prefer to take my business elsewhere,” the Bajoran woman said.
“As you wish, madam,” Garak said, apparently unfazed by the lack of business. He turned his attention to the girl. “Now, you take good care of him, young lady,” he said. “He’s been a brave, little solider throughout his recovery, and I think your mother would prefer that he not have to come back here.”
The girl nodded solemnly before rushing out the door, the stuffed tubba held high over her head. Her mother gave him another critical once-over before following her daughter out the door.
The moment they were gone, Garak slumped onto the counter and pulled out a floppy stuffed sreen. Its fin had been nearly torn off and its back had been split open. “Only five more to go,” he noted wryly as he began fashioning a new fin out of green cloth.
@spocksbeanies
I love these notes! I figured the Bajoran woman didn’t have a lot of latinum to go around and ended up going to Garak’s shop because, being the only Cardassian on a largely Bajoran station, he has to give reduced prices to get any business. She may hate him, but she loves her daughter more, and her daughter loves Mr. Snuffles.
That being said, I love the idea of Garak trading in an underground plushie market with Bajoran children. Of course, he runs it a bit like the Obsidian Order, trading repaired toys for information. However, these are Bajoran kids who have been told over and over not to trust Caradassians so the secrets are largely things like who has the best candy on the station or that a Flaxian trader came aboard this morning with a cool toy that moves and lights up. Garak nods through the secrets with the utmost seriousness and then hands over the toy with the words: “your secret is safe with me.” The Bajoran kids who dare to do this all think he must be the most idiotic Cardassian to ever have left Cardassia since they’ve all “sold” him the same information fifteen times already.
Julian does bring him plushies, largely from younger patients. They have an understanding that Julian brings the toys, Garak fixes them, and neither of them tell the Bajoran parents what happened. If any credit is given, it’s to Julian, who can truthfully admit to being decent with a needle and thread from having gone through medical school. At some point, Odo catches on and starts leaving the damaged plushies that end up in lost and found on the counter in Garak’s shop, then “discovering” them on his next routine inspection. Any child who notices that their stuffed Krelo bear has been repaired when they pick up the toy at lost and found is told that Odo “knows someone” who fixes toys and then is told to go about their business. By the time Garak leaves for Cardassia, he knows the plushies, dolls, and favorite blankets of almost every child on the station and some of his stitching can be found on each and every one.
@tirlaeyn no I don’t think he’d get something he hates I think it’s literally just to Look Sexy
like it wouldn’t even be a design of a person or object, it would be more like. Some fancy line art or geometric design? @mullroy has also theorized about carving little channels into scales and putting metal filling into them, etched designs filled with gold or silver or bronze (NOT in the context of the ass tattoo specifically, I feel like I should mention for the sake of his honor. This was general cardassian tattoo talk)
and yes he’s a spy and tattoos aren’t necessarily ideal for that profession but I also feel like medical technology has advanced enough that removal would be easy and straightforward so he can get an impulse ass tattoo or etching. As a treat
OMFG KINTSUGI-ESQUE CARDASSIAN TATTOOS!!! I love it!!
I like the idea of a geometric pattern for the ass tattoo, but he is so sentimental. I feel like it would have to mean *something*. Might be a very abstract concept tho that would only make sense to him XD Sounds about right.
no ur SO right it would need to have some sort of meaning hidden in there. Very hidden, like the number amount of a certain shape or line in the design holding a meaning, something it would be very difficult for someone else to understand but that he would know
@tirlaeyn no I don’t think he’d get something he hates I think it’s literally just to Look Sexy
like it wouldn’t even be a design of a person or object, it would be more like. Some fancy line art or geometric design? @mullroy has also theorized about carving little channels into scales and putting metal filling into them, etched designs filled with gold or silver or bronze (NOT in the context of the ass tattoo specifically, I feel like I should mention for the sake of his honor. This was general cardassian tattoo talk)
and yes he’s a spy and tattoos aren’t necessarily ideal for that profession but I also feel like medical technology has advanced enough that removal would be easy and straightforward so he can get an impulse ass tattoo or etching. As a treat
OMFG KINTSUGI-ESQUE CARDASSIAN TATTOOS!!! I love it!!
I like the idea of a geometric pattern for the ass tattoo, but he is so sentimental. I feel like it would have to mean *something*. Might be a very abstract concept tho that would only make sense to him XD Sounds about right.
“Ah, I take it you’re here to pick up Mr. Snuffles,” Garak said the moment the Bajoran woman entered his shop.
The woman narrowed her eyes at him and nodded. A little Bajoran girl, about five years old, peeked out from behind her skirt. “Is he ok?” the girl asked, looking cautiously from her mother to Garak and back.
“Well, it was somewhat touch and go at times,” Garak said before the mother could respond, “and he’s been missing you, of course, but I think,” he set the repaired stuffed tubba doll on the counter, “that he is feeling as good as new.”
The girl rushed forward, a big smile plastered across her face. “Mr. Snuffles!” she exclaimed, grabbing the stuffed tubba off the counter.
“Thank you,” her mother said cautiously. She straightened up to her full height and looked him directly in the eyes. “What do I owe you?”
“Not a thing,” Garak said with an easy smile.
The mother stiffened. “You expect me to believe that a Cardassian…?”
“Madam, I don’t expect you to believe anything,” Garak interrupted. “The facts of the matter are that the repair of the stuffed tubba –”
“Mr. Snuffles,” the girl corrected.
“Mr. Snuffles,” Garak amended, “is absolutely free. If you are intent on spending latinum in my shop, however, might I suggest one of these Vitarian wool scarves?” He gestured to a rack of scarves to his left. “Perfect for keeping out the chill.”
“Thank you, but I would prefer to take my business elsewhere,” the Bajoran woman said.
“As you wish, madam,” Garak said, apparently unfazed by the lack of business. He turned his attention to the girl. “Now, you take good care of him, young lady,” he said. “He’s been a brave, little solider throughout his recovery, and I think your mother would prefer that he not have to come back here.”
The girl nodded solemnly before rushing out the door, the stuffed tubba held high over her head. Her mother gave him another critical once-over before following her daughter out the door.
The moment they were gone, Garak slumped onto the counter and pulled out a floppy stuffed sreen. Its fin had been nearly torn off and its back had been split open. “Only five more to go,” he noted wryly as he began fashioning a new fin out of green cloth.
Headcanon: Garak is great with kids. He didn’t have the best childhood (or the best father) so he keenly understands the fears that children go through on a day to day basis and can remember what he wished for when he was small and scared. While rebuilding Cardassia, he passed laws giving unprecedented rights and relief to orphans and bastard children. When Julian asked about this, he responded with: “My dear doctor, I am merely inculcating the next generation with a love and devotion for me. Surely, you understand the political power of having an entire generation of children in your debt.” Julian doesn’t believe a word of this, especially since he’s seen Garak carefully patch the holes and sew the tears on almost every beloved stuffed animal on the station.
I don’t wanna derail the post that genuinely asks about how Julian might see Sloan VS Garak but I think Julian said “you see, if you’re an older ridged alien with issues who may or may not be a spy who sat down at my table kinda brashly and came onto me and gave me a bit of a perverse look but in an oddly charming way that made me lowkey scared and horny, and one day you just came into my room at night to take me on a mission to get back to your nemesis that i also hate, and you are reactive to my good samaritan complex and you’re actually intelligent and challenge me, and accept that i challenge you, and genuinely respect and admire me, and have hidden compassion inside you, then your anthracite morality just makes you #Complex and you’re hot n sexy n i fantasize about living in a house with you under a red sun not yet completely swallowed up by an institution i love for its democratic ideals yet somewhere deep down resent for ostracizing me.
however if you’re some slimy dude from a shockingly cruel and immoral fringe of that supposedly democratic institution, who fancies himself an edgelord and tried to recruit me by tricking me and making me suffer rather than actually engaging with me at the same level, then you’re not remotely as clever as you think you are and your approaching me is creepy and your anthracite morality just makes your soul ugly and i deeply despise you and your methods. hope that helps”
