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Chapter Text

Dabo shifts were not the worst part of life on Terok Nor, but they were certainly among the more unpleasant. Quite aside from the constant fear that someone would put their hand where they shouldn’t and notice Julian’s lack of external genitalia, even after a year and a half Julian was still only half-passable at fending off advances. The station regulars knew by now how far they could go with Julian, and while several of them delighted in pushing his boundaries, they also knew how far they could take it—and there were easier targets for the ones who got off on the violence itself rather than the facade of a willing partner.

Visiting traders were both harder and easier. The ones who didn’t pass through regularly had no knowledge of what limits existed and no reason to care, but the Cardassian soldiers considered the dabo spinners their property and were generally willing to make that clear in exchange for extra favors. (Julian always selected Gavor, who expected nothing more than just enough attention to avoid it looking strange, for this if he was around.)

The ever-increasing parade of visiting legates, on the other hand, had no reason to care about Julian’s boundaries and enough authority not to care about the soldiers either. With Julian’s social difficulties, deftly sidestepping was something of a challenge and often relied on Taria or Leli’s help. Which was easily obtained—except that tonight Hana had apparently decided to actively throw him to the wolves.

It started simply enough. A new legate, one obviously intrigued by Julian. A light flirtation on Julian’s part, enticing the legate to his wheel. A delicate question about what business brought the legate to the station, about how long he was likely to be there for. Encouragement to boast, to drink, to talk a little too freely, a little too openly. A hand on the legate’s wrist, a seductive murmur in his ear, never more than a moment before flitting back to the wheel.

The invitation was expected, normal. So when the legate put his hand on Julian’s shoulder—a wildly provocative gesture to a Cardassian—and asked Julian to drink with him, Julian demurred, citing his other customers.

And then Hana stepped in, all fluttering eyelashes and friendly smile, and said, “For someone as distinguished as you, Legate, I’m certain I could take Julian’s wheel for the evening.”

“You have your own duties tonight,” Julian said. “I couldn’t possibly ask you to take that on.” He flashed the Legate an apologetic smile. “Another time, perhaps.”

“Nonsense,” Hana said. “Who knows when the Legate will return to the station?”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Taria, waiting tables, notice Hana standing close. She started to work her way through the crowd to the wheels. If he could just hold out…

“But then you’d be leaving Taria alone with all the customers!” Julian said with forced lightness. “And then she’ll hold it against me. Just think of how tense our next shifts will be!” He smiled at the Legate. “I do appreciate your distinguished presence. But my duties come first. I’m sure you understand duty.” Duty was a cornerstone of Cardassian culture, after all. If Julian had learned nothing else from Garak’s dreadful Cardassian classics, he had learned that.

Taria had reached Leli, was whispering to her hurriedly…

“It really is no trouble,” said Hana. “And I’m sure Taria will understand doing a favor for such a distinguished legate.”

The legate’s hand tightened on Julian’s shoulder. “Then it seems it’s been decided!” he said. He led Julian—manhandled him, rather—towards a table. The glimpse Julian got of Leli scolding Hana in a ferocious whisper was no comfort at all. The legate took a seat at the table and pulled Julian into his lap with a hungry look.

“I’m a civilized man,” said the legate. “Quite up to your exacting standards, I’m sure. And after a drink… I’m sure you’d like a night spent out of whatever accommodations Quark has for his employees. Somewhere more private.”

Julian could not hold in his shudder at the hot breath upon his ear, hoping instead that the legate took it for desire. The hand on his shoulder was like iron, holding him trapped there, he was going to have to go back to the legate’s quarters, he was going to have to… he had never done that with anyone but Ash (occasionally joined by other people, but always with Ash); it was far too much of a risk to do it with someone who knew what humans were supposed to be capable of. A Cardassian legate would have fought against humans, would know what they were physically capable of. And what their genital configuration ought to be. Going back with the legate was… Cardassians didn’t have a concept of trans. At best he would be classed as a woman with all the added dangers that brought. At worst… killed out of hand? Dukat and Garak both had reasons to want Julian alive, but neither of them were in a position to openly defy a legate over Julian. And even if they were, it wouldn’t help if the legate just killed Julian on the spot.

And quite possibly violate him before killing him, if the legate’s pride was pricked enough. (‘Trans panic’ had long since been eliminated as a viable murder defense on Earth, but ‘she offended my honor by pretending to be a man’ probably was here, and that was if anyone tried to call the legate to account for his murder in the first place. Well, Odo would probably try, but he wouldn’t get anywhere. And that still didn’t help with the ‘staying alive’ part.)

The legate murmured boasts of his prowess mixed in with comments on Julian’s beauty, and Julian could feel himself dissociating—not like before; he stayed just aware enough to give a semblance of the expected responses, but it was as though he was watching it from outside, a passenger in his own body. A drink in his hand, a fawning smile, the dim awareness that Taria had disappeared from the floor, the legate’s hand on his shoulder, a drink pressed to his lips. He could taste a slight bitter flavor and grittiness in it, probably improperly dissolved ketamine. It wouldn’t have the same effect on Julian as it ought; his enhanced metabolism meant he filtered out contaminants much faster, his enhanced cognition meant impairment wasn’t quite the danger it would be for a normal human, and his enhanced sense of taste meant he could detect it after barely a sip. But ketamine was still quick to take effect and the legate seemed to have put rather a lot in this drink. Probably because he’d had trouble getting it to dissolve; liquid was much more effective when you wanted to use it for this purpose. Maybe the legate had only been able to lay his hands on the powder.

That wasn’t relevant.

He could feel even the small taste he’d had coming over him, clouding his thoughts, making him feel even more detached and separated. The legate was touching him and he couldn’t do anything about it. The setting of the bar restricted the legate’s actions to a point, but Julian could still feel hands on his shoulders. He couldn’t sleep with the legate, he couldn’t, it wasn’t viable, he needed some way out of this even if he had to fake an illness but the legate probably wouldn’t believe that without obvious physical symptoms and he had nothing to cause that…

“Another drink?”

Julian realized Taria was there, with her customer service mask, the demure unselfconscious flirtation. But there was something very precise about the way she handed the glass to Julian, a movement that would in no way be noticeable to anyone who didn’t know her very, very well—a move Julian only barely caught in his compromised state. The drink did indeed taste very odd, obviously containing something, but he trusted Taria. The legate got more aggressive. Julian tried to direct the legate’s attention to his shoulders rather than his chest.

After about fifteen minutes, Julian began to feel legitimately queasy. Either his usual panic attack was about to happen or this was what Taria had drugged him with. The legate was starting to talk about going to bed, with Julian to accompany him.

Julian couldn’t concentrate against the steadily worsening state of his stomach. “I don’t feel so good,” he murmured.

The legate clearly thought this was the effects of his drugging Julian. “I’m sure I can make you feel better.” He rose from the table. Julian stumbled and fell, the queasiness overtaking him. He vomited onto the table.

“Julian!”

Was that… Gavor’s voice? There were scaled hands on Julian’s arm, supporting him upright—not the cruel grasp of the legate’s hands, but a much gentler hold, supportive, even as his stomach spasmed again.

“We have an understanding,” Gavor was saying, somewhere above Julian’s head. “I doubt he’s good company in this state, but looking after him is my responsibility. I’m sure one of the girls would be more enjoyable company.”

Julian heard more diplomatic talk over his head but he felt too sick and out of it to keep track of it. Eventually he was in the hallway with Gavor murmuring, scarcely audible, into his ear.

“We’ll need to go to my quarters to make it believable. Jabara said it would wear off quickly but she couldn’t know how it would interact with what he gave you.”

Jabara? When had Jabara come into this?

Had there been an entire conspiracy formed over the course of the previous half-hour?

More movement, staggering down a hall Julian had never been to—the area where the Cardassian soldiers had quarters. Through a door. Someone else in the room, another Cardassian seated on the couch. Julian started to panic at the sight.

“It’s just me, my dear,” and Julian relaxed again at the sound of Garak’s voice. Gavor lowered him to the couch and then Garak’s cool hands were against Julian’s forehead. Julian sighed a little and relaxed into the touch. Garak removed his hands far sooner than Julian would have preferred.

“Any difficulties?” Garak asked Gavor over Julian’s head.

“It was a clever plan,” said Gavor. “Of course I would expect no less from you.”

There was some deeper meaning in that comment but Julian was far too woozy to try to figure it out.

“Your participation in it was rather more than I would expect from you,” said Garak.

“Shall I expect to survive the experience?” Gavor sounded tentative, as though he was asking a genuine question.

“Come now; we’ve established tonight that you have your uses. As long as you remember that you cannot prove my involvement I see no reason not to take advantage of those uses. The doctor here clearly needs all the protection he can get.”

The room was starting to come back into focus. Julian realized he was lying on a couch with Garak seated by his head and Gavor standing directly in front of them.

“My dear doctor,” Garak murmured. “How are you feeling?”

“I can… think now?” Julian hadn’t meant for that to come out as a question, but he still felt out of it—even if he had reached enough awareness to be flooded with tremendous relief. Garak already knew about Julian’s gender presentation, and while Julian would really prefer that not spread to anyone else, if Gavor figured it out that probably did not put Julian in any additional danger.

“I am relieved to hear it. Jabara believed it was highly likely the legate would have given you something and could not be sure what the effect of mixing it with the drugs she could access on short notice would be.”

“What did she give me?” Julian could tell his voice was somewhat slurred. He just couldn’t seem to control his body.

“She called it syrup of frill fern,” said Gavor.

“If I’m right… should be fine. Drink tasted bitter. Think it was… ketamine. By the time you taste it… too late. But both… wear off fast.” Julian coughed and groaned; Garak set a soothing hand against Julian’s forehead again—a feather-light touch, over almost before it had begun, but Julian relaxed regardless. He knew he shouldn’t, but after the corridor he trusted Garak.

“I cannot stay long,” said Garak. “There are eyes on me that there aren’t on either of you.”

“Why are you… here… at all?” Julian asked.

“Your friend Jabara attempted to break into my quarters.”

Julian winced. He had eventually told Kira where he kept Tavir’s toy, just in case she needed it in a hurry, and Taria and Kira both knew he was involved in something with each of them—it was unavoidable, since he lived with Taria; keeping it from Hana was hard enough and she was rarely there. If Taria had gotten it from Kira and passed it off to Jabara… but Garak was more than just a tailor and he rather suspected breaking into Garak’s quarters was more dangerous than the obvious.

Garak obviously saw some of this pass over Julian’s face. “You needn’t worry,” he said. “She only wanted to get my attention without being so obvious as to use my door chime, and modulated her approach accordingly.”

“Why are you… here?”

“Plans are only as good as the people who implement them, my dear, and I was forced to work with amateurs for this one. That merited my keeping an eye on it personally. But as you are now safe enough, I will take my leave.” Then, to Gavor, “The legate is scheduled for departure on the midday transport. Keep the doctor here until the shuttle has departed; the others will put it about that Julian is still sick.”

“No one is going to believe that!” said Gavor.

“Odo doesn’t like people drugging potential paramours on his station. He may not have the power to do anything to the legate but he will keep Julian’s recovery from coming to the legate’s attention.” Garak stood. “Rest, doctor. I will see you at lunch in a few days, and I expect you to have finished The Scattered Mountains when I do.” He left the room without a backwards glance.

Julian blinked a few times. The room was beginning to come into focus properly. He was in what he presumed to be Gavor’s quarters. They were sparsely decorated, although Julian saw charcoals and a sketchpad on one of the shelves. Nothing indicating any sort of family—but then, low-ranking soldiers often came out of the orphanages; trying to be promoted on merit was one of the few routes to a better life.

Gavor watched Julian for another moment, then took Garak’s seat on the couch near Julian’s head.

“I appreciate your help,” Julian murmured. “I know it’s more openly than you would prefer to act.”

“It wasn’t so much of a risk, done like that,” said Gavor. “And Garak is very persuasive.” The way he said ‘persuasive’ sounded more like ‘threatening.’

“I had gathered he’s something more than a simple tailor.”

“He’s Obsidian Order.”

Julian blinked. Garak was Obsidian Order?

As he considered it, he realized he wasn’t actually surprised. Garak had very strong opinions on James Bond and spies in general, and had spoken of operatives like he was familiar with them. He had known what Dukat wanted and known enough of how it had played out to be able to reassure Taria. A civilian tailor was theoretically lower in rank than the soldiers, but no one ever tried to use that to harass Garak. Dukat and Garak hated each other, but Dukat had never moved to oust Garak—and Garak had been oddly adamant about it being dangerous to spend any time in Julian’s company beyond lunch and clothes fittings even though plenty of Cardassians had friends among the station’s free agents. Could that be because Dukat couldn’t take his animosity out on Garak directly but could get to him Julian if he and Garak became close?

But why did everyone know what Garak was? He’d been adamant that operatives did not run around announcing they were operatives.

Julian’s head started to pound and he stopped trying to wrap his mind around the implications.

“You’ve been helping me from the beginning,” Julian said instead.

“When I can get away with it without risking myself.” Gavor sounded bitter.

“Why?” Julian asked.

Gavor was silent for a long time. The pain in Julian’s head continued to recede as he waited, his thoughts becoming clearer—which only left him shaking about the close call, but he tried to push that away. It wasn’t safe to break down yet.

Julian welcomed the distraction when Gavor spoke.

“Before I was here, I was attached to one of the labor camps. Not Gallitep; one of the smaller ones… but that was bad enough.”

Julian had heard stories of what the labor camps were like before he had ever come to Bajor. As a soldier Gavor would have been expected to participate in the atrocities. To commit war crimes.

“You did what they asked of you,” Julian said, carefully keeping his voice neutral. His cognition was improving but he still wasn’t quite running on all his dilithium crystals; he wanted to make sure he comprehended the conversation.

“They would have killed me if I hadn’t. I wanted to live… so I didn’t even try to help individuals. I had chances, I could have helped a few escape, but then I thought about how many were dying, and what use was a few against that and what point in risking my life for just a few. What point in risking my life at all, even when I couldn’t stop hearing the screams.” He sighed. “I still can’t stop hearing the screams.”

“But something changed for you.” It had to have. Gavor wasn’t taking any risk by playing Julian’s favorite customer—being the clear favorite of a dabo spinner was generally a boost to one’s reputed prowess even if they never slept together—and tonight could be excused by Garak threatening him. But letting Jabara in to see the augments was a genuine, unforced risk.

Gavor looked away and didn’t speak for a long time. As another silence stretched, Julian cautiously sat up. The pounding in his head worsened briefly but quickly died back to a manageable level. He did not think, however, that he would be able to stand just yet.

“My last assignment at the camp,” Gavor said hoarsely. “I never wanted to be a soldier. But when you’re an orphan with no family, that’s what there is.”

Julian glanced again towards the sketchpad on the shelf. Before I held a rifle, I held an artist’s brush… A song he had heard Palis play once, about a soldier in an old massacre on Earth. Julian had never asked about the details behind the history, but the song itself had been oddly beautiful.

“I was ordered,” Gavor continued, “to kill three Bajoran children. Punishment for a Resistance bombing. A public spectacle, complete with torture.”

“And you did,” Julian realized. But there was no rush of reactionary emotions, probably because he was still keeping a tight lid on all his emotions lest he break down.

That meant he could think about it dispassionately. He had forgiven the Resistance’s occasional collateral damage. It was to be avoided as much as possible and sometimes it wasn’t possible. Killing children deliberately, intentionally… there was no forgiveness for that.

Oh, I was seventeen that spring, Oh, we were just obeying orders…

‘Just obeying orders’ was no defense. But all the Cardassian soldiers here had participated in atrocities, even if they had never been at the labor camps, even if they hated doing it. Julian didn’t spend much time among the Cardassian solders outside the bar but Gavor could not possibly be the only one who hated it or who helped the Resistance in some small way.

Julian had already known Gavor must have done terrible things.

“To us, family is everything, second only to the state. To destroy children like that, in front of their parents… it goes against everything we are and everything Cardassia should be.”

“But you did it.”

“And I was transferred here. A reward for executing my duty so well, to be moved to the garrison of the Prefect.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Julian asked. It didn’t make sense for Gavor to just pour out the story like this.

“You asked,” said Gavor. “And who else am I going to tell?”

Julian was part of the Resistance, yes, but a part who willingly socialized with Garak and was visibly a focus of Dukat’s attention. Gavor knew all that, knew Julian was aware of what kind of atrocities went with being a soldier, knew Julian might be surprised by the specifics but not by the fact that Gavor had done terrible things.

Julian well knew what it was to have a secret weigh heavily upon you. Telling Jabara about his enhancements and his shared camaraderie with Naprem over it had brought him great relief.

Maybe Gavor had just seen an opportunity to confess to someone.

“Besides,” Gavor continued, “as you’re staying here all night, you would have noticed it anyway, when I scream in my sleep.”

“Believe me, I’m in no position to complain about someone else screaming in their sleep.” Focus on the normal, the controllable, the here-and-now.

Gavor gave a small smile at that. “This place does tend to breed nightmares.”

“Telling me about it won’t take it away,” Julian said. “If it weighs on you now, it will keep weighing on you later.”

“It should,” said Gavor. “I still can’t bring myself to risk my own life, even after all of that. Cowardice, bare cowardice.”

“Maybe. But it’s never too late to find your courage.”

“Even if I did, it won’t undo what I’ve done.”

“That doesn’t make the lives you might save in the future worth any less.”

Gavor shook his head. “It’s too late for me. I’ll carry on helping you in what small ways I can, but it’s far too late for me to do anything other than preserve myself.” He laughed bitterly. “A soldier, such servant of the Union, a commendation for service! Rewarded! All because I have failed as a man, and a Cardassian.”

“As long as you keep saying that, you’ll keep failing. But I still think it’s never too late.”

Chapter Text

Hana was a profitable employee. Her haughtiness drew the guls, who felt that getting someone so haughty to fawn over them was proof of their virility, and they spent more in an effort to impress her because she was impressed by latinum. Quark got a percentage on what they paid for her other services since he was the one facilitating the transactions. He got more from her than he did from Leli, and far more than he did from Taria.

Because Hana was profitable, Quark had let her behavior slide and even protected her when she offended people. Smoothing such things over was the cost of doing business. Finding another dabo girl as profitable would require more effort and he might have to go through a few before he found the correct one. That meant a period of both reduced profits and constant tension in the dormitory. Not that there wasn’t tension in the dormitory with Hana there, but it was a stable tension that didn’t interfere with the work.

Or at least it hadn’t.

Being on sexual display was part of the contract and an essential part of the job. The girls were the draw. But it was just display. The girls were encouraged to provide comfort, and the ones who did got perks the others didn’t, but charging for sexual favors wasn’t actually part of the employment contract.

Julian had no interest in it. Indeed, Julian had an active disinterest, to a degree that made Quark wonder if he’d been violated at some point.

Julian was also profitable in ways that had nothing to do with his shifts on the wheel. Quark had bargained to give Julian shifts on the wheel for a reason—the girls weren’t much of a draw to those inclined exclusively towards men—but the bulk of Julian’s value came from his smuggling connections and his bartending ability.

Quark’s illegal connections were on the extremely disreputable end of things. Good for getting items that were highly profitable in lump sums. Julian had told Quark that trading in high-value items made you a high-value target, and he therefore subscribed to a creed involving tamer items that let him make a living but would never make him fabulously wealthy. Julian could interact with the black markets—Rionoj had recognized him on sight, and wouldn’t Quark dearly like to know that story—but it was as a doctor, not a smuggler. His smuggling connections were all in the gray markets, people primarily focused on evading taxes and embargoes. They wouldn’t deal with Quark directly but would deal through Julian. As much as having to pay fair prices for anything irritated Quark, the extra time for high-value deals gained from having Julian manage inventory more than made up for it.

This made Julian valuable in ways that Quark would not be able to replace. It was rare for someone primarily connected with the gray markets to be willing to work with Quark at all, let alone in an exclusive capacity. Julian got leeway similar to Hana’s; it was just that Julian used his leeway to import medical supplies under the cover of shipments for the bar and take up Nog’s time with lessons and games. Looking the other way on that caused no problems and had very little likelihood of having ramifications for Quark’s profit margin. (The lessons even seemed like they might be accomplishing something. Quark still didn’t think Nog had the lobes for business, but he might at least avoid getting into the kind of trouble Rom had and that was Julian’s doing.)

But even if Julian hadn’t been unusually valuable, Hana would have put Quark in a difficult position, because the staff could not regard each other as enemies if the bar was going to continue to function. Minor fights over profit, fine, and certainly interpersonal conflicts happened. What happened after hours was not Quark’s business as long as it didn’t damage anyone’s ability to function during their shifts.

This could not do anything other than damage people’s function during their shifts.

Julian was not going to be able to live with Hana after this, and probably not work with her either. It was possible that the Elcor female would take this as a reason to insist Julian leave the station altogether. The other girls would be actively set against Hana, as would the entirety of the station’s Bajoran population—and while they might not seem to have any power, Quark knew they could make his life difficult if they had a reason to set their minds to it. Gavor might not be the highest-ranking of the Cardassian soldiers, but he was still a Cardassian soldier who seemed to have a genuine partiality towards Julian. And Garak… well, no one knew exactly what Garak was, but it was obvious he was more dangerous than a tailor. It was also obvious to everyone except Dukat and Julian that Garak and Julian were one argument away from tearing each other’s clothes off, for all Garak didn’t seem inclined to do anything about it. Garak would not be pleased about the night’s events.

Perhaps worst of all, Hana had not done it for any sort of profit. She had thrown Julian onto a knife and disrupted the bar’s operations all for a petty personal whim. Quark could control people motivated by profit. If Hana had been motivated by profit, threatening her might suffice to keep the peace enough for the bar to keep functioning.

She hadn’t done it for profit. She had seen a chance to hurt Julian and taken it without so much as a pause for thought.

The easiest solution here was getting rid of Hana. While that was not ideal, it would be far less disruptive to the bar than getting rid of Julian—and trying to keep both of them was asking for a massive disaster, probably at the least convenient moment.

There was nothing visible in Hana’s body language as she entered the office to suggest awareness of why she was there. She moved with the same haughty confidence she always did, taking her place before the desk with elaborate casualness.

Best to get to the point.

“You violated your contract.”

Hana’s eyes widened. If Quark didn’t know better, he would have thought she was surprised.

“Violated?” she purred. “Me? You know I would never do such a thing.”

“Violence against your coworkers is prohibited in the contract.”

“And I haven’t done any! It’s hardly my fault a legate took interest in Julian. It’s certainly not my fault Julian is too prissy to oblige him. You think I would just let Julian take a customer who could have been paying attention to me?” She preened a little, and gave a slight toss of her hair. Normally Quark would have taken this as a signal to ask her for oomox and deal with whatever mess she’d made, but this time he could not overlook her threat to his profits—especially since she didn’t seem to realize the depth of her mistake.

“Everyone knows you hate Julian. Enough to let it get in the way of business.”

“I helped Julian. I set him up with a client out of the goodness of my heart. He’s the one who ruined his chances, drinking enough to make that much mess. And on the clock!” She sounded utterly scandalized.

Quark did not know—and did not want to know—what had led up to that, but he knew Taria had orchestrated it somehow. He had very deliberately looked the other way at her disappearing from the floor during the evening rush and coming back half an hour later with a drink for Julian in her hands and Gavor on her heels.

“I know everything that happens in my bar,” said Quark. “That includes relations between the four of you.”

“But I’m so very valuable.” Hana had now shifted into a coquettish attitude. Quark had to be impressed with her sheer versatility—perhaps it was less that she didn’t know she was in trouble and more that she was convinced she could talk her way out of it.

“More valuable than Julian?”

“Julian doesn’t charm your customers into his bed, now does he? I know what I’m worth, Quark. Always have.”

“No one is irreplaceable.”

“Except me, or why would you keep me on when they all hate me? You’re discerning enough to recognize natural superiority when you see it.”

“I’m also discerning enough to know its limits. You forget that you aren’t the only part of the bar that earns latinum.”

“Just the part that earns the most.”

“If I overlook violations of the contract, the entire business falls apart. You have violated your contract. You put me in a position where I have no choice but to replace you.”

Now the mask started to crack and Hana began to look nervous, although she tried to cover it with her usual seductive bravado.

“I’m irreplaceable, Quark.”

“No one is irreplaceable.”

***

By the time Julian returned to his quarters, Hana’s things were gone. Taria and Leli lounged on Taria’s bed, clearly waiting for him. He collapsed onto his bed and lay facing them.

“I talked your friend Kasidy into using her replicators for some human food for you,” said Taria. “It didn’t take much persuading; the whole station heard what happened to you last night. She said they’re called ‘scones’ and that you like them.” She tossed a bag onto Julian’s bed. He sat up and opened it. He had not often had human food since leaving Earth; humans so rarely left the Federation that most non-Federation replicators weren’t programmed for it. The bag had three scones, a little container of strawberry jam, another of clotted cream, and a knife and plate that Taria must have taken from the bar. Not only human food but one of his favorite breakfasts, which Kasidy had apparently remembered from the one time Julian mentioned it. He could have cried.

Then the second part of what Taria said hit him and he groaned. “Everyone is going to be talking about what happened last night.”

“Yes,” said Leli bluntly. “A legate took interest everyone could see wasn’t welcome and then you threw up in the bar in the middle of the rush and Gavor told everyone you had an understanding and brought you home with him which is, by the by, going to make his reputation. And this morning Hana was fired. Of course people are talking. No one blames you for any of it, but you are the most interesting topic of gossip today.”

Taria elbowed her. “I know you’re capable of diplomacy.”

“Yes, but why bother Julian with it?”

Julian managed a small smile, which was no doubt what Leli had intended. Their banter was a welcome slice of normalcy, a thin thread to hang on to through everything he felt about the previous night.

Taria rolled her eyes. “It will pass soon enough. Hopefully whoever Quark replaces Hana with is easier to live with.”

“Or at least less of a bitch,” said Leli.

Taria elbowed her again. “You probably do want to show your face today and make sure everyone knows you didn’t get killed last night, but there’s no rush. And you should eat that breakfast.”

Julian pulled his small folding table over to the edge of the bed and began to lay out the scones. “I appreciate the rescue.”

“We couldn’t just let him hurt you,” said Leli. “Or worse; Jabara seemed to think there was a strong chance you’d end up murdered, so don’t be surprised when she turns up at the door to reassure herself you’re all right. I’d have thought she was being paranoid—killing a non-Bajoran lover for no reason looks bad for someone in such a high position—but Garak agreed with her.”

Jabara and Garak both knew his secret. They would know the real potential consequences. Julian determinedly shoved that from his mind. Pushing things away was only a temporary solution, but he needed to be alone before he could break down. Instead, he turned his attention to the scones. For all that so much of his childhood was a painful memory with a lot of moving around, they had always come back to London, and eventually had settled down there once Julian knew what he was and why he had to be careful. He and Palis had teased each other about scones versus croissants for the entire length of their relationship.

Years later and he still missed Palis.

They had argued constantly, all of it playful. Ballet was her first and truest love, but music and music history in all forms delighted her, and she in turn understood his passion for literature and tennis and medicine. Musicals, especially ones based on books, had been a way of splitting the difference—they attended them and then they had dinner at romantic Paris restaurants and argued about what they had seen, and then went back to Palis’s Paris apartment and kissed and argued them further. (Palis had been horrified by the James Bond musical from the early 2100s. As had Julian, really, but the argument that resulted from his playing devil’s advocate had been breathtaking.) They never had sex—she was sex-repulsed and that had been such a relief, that their relationship wasn’t doomed from the start by his inability to risk letting something slip in the heat of the moment—but they were both tactile people, one of those couples that sickened those around them with how sweet they were.

He had been starting to look at rings when he had to run. Starting to plan a proposal.

He had loved Palis with everything he had.

He hadn’t had the chance to so much as leave a note.

The taste of the scones brought all of these memories rushing back, but painful as they were, they were better than thinking about the previous night.

“You’re not on shift tonight,” said Taria. “At all. Quark doesn’t want anyone thinking it’s something contagious.”

It was unlikely anyone was thinking that, but Quark had to cloak any semblance of kindness in something else.

“That means we have things to do,” said Leli. “And it means you should rest.”

Julian wasn’t sure he was capable of resting, but he knew he needed to try if he wanted to be good for anything tomorrow.

***

He wasn’t sure how long Taria and Leli had been gone before Jabara came in. He had finished the scones and was lying on the bed huddled under the weighted blanket when the door opened. Jabara came to sit by his head in the same position she had taken after he returned from treating Ziyal. Once again she began to massage his forehead.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

He tried to answer and only produced a whimpering noise. Apparently the pathway between his brain and his mouth was gone. That hadn’t happened to him since the immediate aftermath of the cloning lab.

“You don’t have to, if you aren’t ready,” Jabara said quietly. Julian laid there in the bed, shaking, as Jabara’s touch brought more and more of his feelings to the surface. Panic, betrayal—he knew Hana hated him but he’d never believed she would do something like that. He had been afraid many, many times on the station but never like that, never without full control of himself, never without some way to escape, something he could do to affect the situation. He had never been that afraid, never felt so helpless.

He started to sob. Jabara stroked her hand through his hair and murmured reassurances that it was all right, that he was as safe now as anyone ever was on the station, that Hana was gone.

He could not have said for how long he cried, but eventually the tears began to fade along with the overwhelming intensity of his feelings. Jabara handed him a cloth and he wiped his face without sitting up, then looked up at her.

“Feel better?” she asked.

“Some,” Julian admitted. “I just… I never thought she’d do that. I knew she hated me and I even understood why, but I went out of my way not to be a threat to her position.” Even when she had been awful to him about it.

“She’s only not a collaborator because she couldn’t make that fit with her image of herself as so very perfect.” Jabara’s voice had a certain bite and Julian remembered that Hana received her medical care in the infirmary from the Bajoran nurses. Jabara had more than likely had Hana as a patient at some point. “You were never going to win with her.”

“I didn’t care about winning; I just wanted to live here without us trying to kill each other.”

“I know. But she wasn’t going to let that happen.”

“Is that why you had a rescue plan ready to go?”

“That was all Taria and Garak; I just provided the drugs. Though I am glad someone in this mess was quick on their feet. The station needs you.”

“What’s the station saying about all this?” The last thing Julian wanted to think about was other people’s reactions, but it was more dangerous not to know them.

“The Bajoran population knows more or less everything—Leli didn’t see a reason to be discreet—and is very much on your side. As is the segment of the Cardassian population that pays enough attention to the Bajorans to know the gossip. Some of Hana’s clients are unhappy, but she didn’t cultivate the kind of personal relationships Leli does with her clients, so there aren’t that many.”

“But they’re all in positions of power.” Julian was very aware of the kind of clients Hana favored.

“And Dukat has reason to want you alive. All of Hana’s regulars are stationed here; Dukat has power over them. Does that mean they can’t try something? No, of course not, but stupid men do not appeal to Hana, and men who aren’t stupid are aware you are something to Dukat even if not the details. Not to mention Garak, and I’m not sure what he is but he’s something they’re all wary of.”

“Gavor said he’s Obsidian Order.”

Jabara had to stop and consider that one for a minute. “I wasn’t expecting that but somehow I’m not surprised.”

Julian actually laughed at that one. “That was more or less my reaction too.”

“In that case I’m even less concerned. But I am concerned for the Bajoran population—Hana might not like stupid men but she loves cruel ones, and they’ll be looking for gratification wherever it’s easiest to get at.”

Julian groaned and closed his eyes. “That didn’t even occur to me.” He felt guilty about that. He had been so caught up in his own fears, his own problems, relief to be away, relief that Hana was gone, that he hadn’t considered the consequences for other people.

“Julian.” Jabara’s voice was stern. “Julian. Look at me.”

He didn’t want to. Didn’t want to see someone else looking at him. But the silence stretched and he looked up, managing at least a glance at Jabara’s expression before he looked away. Jabara knew not to expect more—knew Julian never looked anyone in the eye. But he could manage information from facial expressions, and Jabara’s held no judgment, only kindness.

“You have been through a trauma.”

“Everything on this station is a trauma.”

“And last night it happened to you. It is entirely understandable that you’ve been distracted, and you are in no way responsible for the knock-on effects of this.”

Julian wasn’t sure he agreed with that—he couldn’t help but feel like he should have gotten out of it more gracefully, in a way that didn’t result in half the station’s intelligent monsters losing their source of consensual sexual satisfaction.

But then, would he have ever felt even a moment’s temporary safety living in this room again knowing Hana was willing to do that? To say nothing of the fact that Ash would likely have bodily dragged him off the station after this stunt if Hana had remained. (He was going to have to do some fast talking to keep Ash from bodily dragging him off the station as it was.) And he was doing good work here, important work—but privileging himself over others? Acting like it was a scale?

“Whatever it is you’re thinking, stop.” Jabara could read him entirely too well. “You did the best you could with the situation you were given. The fallout from it is on Hana, not on you. I thought you were past this control complex.”

“I was.” And he needed to be again before he saw Kira, or he’d find himself on the receiving end of another scolding.

“Then try to stop spiraling. We’ve acquired a new patient from one of the labs on the surface. Different experiment, I think. I have scan readings. Let’s talk about that.”

Chapter Text

“I appreciate the scones.”

Kasidy smiled. “It was the least I could do. I arrived just in time to hear about what happened.”

“No lecture about staying out of life threatening situations again?”

“This time it’s not the kind of thing you joke about. And waiting an extra day for you to take delivery on the shipment isn’t that much hardship, even here.”

“Still, an extra day is an extra day, especially here, so let’s get started.” Julian looked down at the PADD in his hands and began to move through the Xhosa’s cargo hold, comparing quantities on the list to quantities in the shipment.

“Did whoever you got the book for like it?” Kasidy had watched Julian do this enough times to know he could converse while he counted.

“They did, in fact. I imagine next time I see them I’ll be presented with quite a lot of art using techniques discussed in it. It was the perfect blend of instruction and history. Though the history itself is probably going to sound very odd to someone from here. At least the more recent parts.”

“And the older parts are going to sound very familiar.”

“The slavery parts.” Julian had learned about the British Empire in school, although he’d found the lessons uncomfortable—it had been presented as the distant past which everyone had grown beyond and was therefore irrelevant, when he knew his ancestors on his mother’s side had come from one of those colonized countries. (And the Empire had possibly in some way caused Khan? Julian had not precisely failed that class, but he had certainly done much less than his usual excellent work out of a strong desire to avoid engaging with the material, particularly once Khan came up.) His visceral understanding of the Empire had come from reading A Passage to India and later Heart of Darkness, both books he had not dared try to share with Garak, and he had assiduously avoided history texts thereafter.

“We’ve both seen it,” said Kasidy. “You even more than me, after all that time you spent around the Syndicate. Earth and even the whole Federation may have gotten rid of slavery, but out here…”

“Out here we can only rely on ourselves and what friends we make and sometimes that’s not enough. And the Occupation might be among the worst and most systematized, but it’s not as if the galaxy has a shortage of worlds full of slavery and murder.” At least the cage fighting had generally been consensual. Sometimes a last resort of the desperate, but no one was forced into that ring. When he’d been the discreet medical practitioner for the Orion brothels, his patients had not been doing sex work of their own free will.

“Every time I go back into the Federation I see the difference. Everyone there has everything they need.”

“Bajorans have begged the Federation for help.”

“The Federation doesn’t exactly have a great track record with helping people against the Cardassians.”

Julian looked up from the manifest, surprised at Kasidy’s tone. She stood as she had been, leaning against the wall, but there was a harshness in her expression he wasn’t used to seeing from her.

“I take it you saw something,” he said.

“Let’s just say I’ve developed a more visceral understanding of why you do what you do.”

Julian set the cargo manifest down and walked to lean against the wall beside Kasidy, not touching, just looking at her sidelong.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “That’s not something I would wish on anyone.”

“Thank you.”

“Anyone else, this realization would send them running back to the Federation. But you’re not going to do that.” Julian spoke with utter certainty. No one Federation-born would choose to captain a freighter if they ran from difficult things.

“Anyone else lived through what you lived through the other night and they wouldn’t still be on the station. But you’re not going to leave.”

“Point taken.” The silence stretched, and Julian returned to counting the cargo. Eventually, Kasidy spoke.

“Our ancestors would have had to fight against this sort of thing, back on Earth. Apartheid for mine. The British military for yours.”

Julian was only vaguely familiar with apartheid. It had been a segregation system in… one of the British Empire’s colonies. Apparently one in the area where Kasidy’s ancestors came from.

“We’re fighting against it now,” he observed. “Both of us. At least here.”

“Another Empire trying to take over everything whether or not the people who already live there have something to say about it.”

“‘There is no present or future—only the past, happening over and over again.’”

“How can you quote things like that and still know nothing about history?”

“I know literary history, medical history, tennis history, and rather more music history than I originally intended. What else do I need to know?” Julian looked over at Kasidy just in time to see her roll her eyes.

“That we’re taking our place in a long and proud history of defying empires?” she said.

“I actually did know that; I just don’t feel the need to know details. I’m already living through them.”

“For longer than you’ve been on the station.”

Julian focused sharply on Kasidy. He had long suspected she knew who he was, but this was the closest she had ever come to alluding to it.

“I’ve had complicated feelings about the Federation my whole life,” he said. “Now I’m just… angry. I don’t think I could go back even if it was possible. Not now that I’ve seen what’s out here.”

“After this last run, I’m angrier than I was.”

“As much as I hate that whatever it is happened to you, I do look forward to seeing what you do with your anger.”

***

“Quark does pay some attention to things like the dynamics in here when he hires.” Julian lounged on his bed facing Taria and Leli, who were similarly stretched out on Taria’s bed. “He will probably avoid hiring anyone who’s too much like Hana for fear of something similar happening.”

“You give him far too much credit,” Leli said. “He needs someone who can take over her clientele. Someone who won’t be directly in competition with any of us.”

“Surely there are ways to do that that don’t require her to be impossible to live with.”

“Less than you’d think,” said Taria. “There aren’t that many basic archetypes. Although I suppose there’s glirmanaro.”

“I don’t know that word.”

“High class, exceptionally beautiful, stunning conversationalist, richly dressed—companionship, not just sex.”

“We call that a courtesan.”

Taria and Leli both laughed. “The translator gave that word as glirmanaro,” said Taria. “So you’ve probably got the definition right.”

“I didn’t realize Bajorans had a concept for that.”

“It predates the Occupation—it was one of the D’jarras, under the old caste system.”

“You had an inherited system of sex work?” It was something that Julian thought could work with plain sex, but even if you started training young, Bajorans did have social disorders. He had no idea of the prevalence, but there were at least three children on the station with them. And that wasn’t a skill that could necessarily be trained into someone if they didn’t have it already. (Julian himself could not have managed actual courtesan work. Taria had had to coach him long enough just to get him to the flirtation he did in Quark’s.)

“It’s why Leli is so good at this.” Taria’s tone was teasing. “She’s got generations of it behind her!”

Leli lightly shoved Taria. “My mother said the skills were useful no matter what.”

“And look, you’ve wound up in a related profession anyway, so clearly she was right.”

“Meanwhile Julian here will never be good at this.”

Julian snorted. “Do you expect me to deny what we all know to be true?” he asked.

“Modesty,” said Leli. “A valuable trait.”

“We shouldn’t have to wait that much longer to find out who Quark hired,” said Taria. “He did say she’d be moving in here today.” Which was why the three of them were lying around teasing each other instead of doing other work. They had decided together that it would be better to start off presenting a united front. If the newcomer proved amenable they could fold her into their dynamic. If she didn’t, they could make sure she understood from the start that there were three of them and one of her.

“I do hope she shows up soon,” said Julian. “I wanted some time to spend with the children before my shift starts.”

As though speaking that sentence had summoned her, the door opened and a woman came in. She showed no hesitation, but neither did she seem hostile. She had short, reddish hair, wore a tight but relatively modest red shirt, and carried a small bag. Her bearing was confident; she met Taria and Leli’s eyes freely but did not try to force eye contact on Julian when he avoided it.

“Hello,” she said. “I’m Leeta.”

“I’m Leli, and this is Taria and Julian.” Leli indicated each of them as she spoke their names. “That’s your bed over there.”

Leeta walked to it and set down the bag she’d been carrying before taking a set on the edge of the bed. The silence stretched as Leeta watched them, then she seemed to come to a decision.

“Everyone was eager to tell me about the person I’m replacing,” she said. “With a lot of threats attached if I repeat her behavior. There were five or six versions of what that behavior was and they only thing they agreed on was that she did something to Julian.”

Julian winced. “I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t tell them to do that.” Opening with threats tended to create trouble even where none would have developed otherwise. The fact that she was addressing it openly was probably a good sign.

“Though it’s not the worst idea in the world,” Leli muttered.

“Leli,” said Taria. Then, to Leeta, “Your predecessor attempted to arrange things so Julian was forced to spend the night with a legate when he doesn’t do that kind of work.”

Leeta looked horrified. Julian’s judgment of other people wasn’t always the best but he didn’t think she was faking that look.

“That explains how vehement everyone was,” she said. “And why you’re all sitting here waiting for me.”

“We’re just making sure you know you can’t do things like that,” said Leli. “Taria and Julian don’t do that kind of work. I do. I don’t care whether you do or don’t, but don’t think your clientele will protect you if you do.”

“As it happens, I do, but I have no intention of being the one to create disharmony in this room. Are you determined to see it in me or can we all live peacefully together?”

Julian sighed. “We all want to live peacefully. I’m sure you understand if Leli’s a bit protective right now, given that it’s only been a couple of days.” As much as Julian didn’t want the situation to worsen, he had to admit he wanted to lean into the protection Leli offered. His nerves were shot and he suspected they would be for some time. He wanted to hide in their shared room for a while longer, but he had already taken as much time for recovery as would be permitted.

“I realize you have no reason to believe me,” said Leeta, “but I have no reason to attempt to hurt you.”

“Then I’m sure we’ll all get along fine,” said Taria firmly.