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doctor_tailor2012-03-13 10:25 am
crowdog66) wrote in doctor_tailor2012-03-13 10:25 am
Entry tags:
Fic: "Sway" 3/?
Title: Sway 3/?
Pairing: Garak/Bashir
Rating: R (thus far)
Word Count: 2310
Summary: Julian Bashir is both shaken and stirred — again — by a mysterious Cardassian crime lord who seems to have set his sights on making Julian his own.
Notes: 1) Set in the 1920's DS9 "Gumshoe AU" that started on Tumblr, in which Garak is a gangster and Julian is a brash young doctor who's set up a public health clinic on Skid Row. 2) A sequel/continuation of "Doubt", which is quite short and should be read first.
Part One here.
Part Two here.
************************************
When Julian got home he found a note from Nurse Jabara Elin slipped under his front door; as they'd agreed, she'd walked the two and a half blocks to his run-down apartment building from the Clinic after it closed for the night and submitted a brief report, which indicated that the staff had seen the usual assortment of bar fight injuries and alcohol poisonings they encountered on Saturday nights, seven of which had been been serious enough to send along to Metropolitan Hospital for further treatment. They'd also handled two Human female rape victims, a Human child with a broken finger, and a Bajoran man with a deep chest infection who'd been given medication and told to report back in three days; seeing the name, Julian recognized it as belonging to a fellow who suffered such ailments on a regular basis and would likely not return as ordered, which was a big part of his ongoing problem. Thinking about possible ways to convince Mister Teevar that he should really pay attention to medical personnel kept Julian from obsessing about less proper subjects as he prepared for bed, and he fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.
But the second his eyes opened again he felt the bright tingle of anticipation, like a child on Christmas morning, and then he remembered: I agreed to meet Elim Garak for supper tonight. Turning on the bedside light, he glanced at his clock and saw that he was up a full hour earlier than usual, but restlessness wouldn't let him relax, much less go back to sleep: he sprang out of bed, had a warm shower and a shave, whipped up a quick breakfast, bolted it down, and briskly walked the long blocks to the Clinic in the fresh dawn light that made even the tired inner city seem gilded and somehow splendid. Nurse Eileen Fisher was just putting on coffee as he came in the door, and her welcoming smile — she had a crush on him, he knew, but he'd always felt more paternal toward her than amorous — only put an extra shine on the day.
Julian went about his duties with a spring in his step and a song in his heart, alternately eager and nervous, even if the cause of his contradictory moods was something he could never admit, especially to Nurse Jabara, who had a natural distaste for Cardassians — well, some Cardassians, at any rate, she never hesitated to help the ones who came through the Clinic's doors in their hour of need, but she detested the ones like Garak and his gang who operated from positions of ruthless power. Mercifully she didn't bring up that particular subject during the morning: Julian was already holding his own lively internal debate between the inarguable reaction of his body and mind — for Garak was intrinsically charismatic and intelligent and attractive on a number of different levels, even if Julian wasn't quite sure yet just how the physical side of it worked — and his awareness of what Garak actually was, the leader of a criminal organization that dealt in bootleg alcohol, drugs, prostitution, blackmail, and murder on top of everything else. How was he supposed to reconcile that brutal occupation with the man who'd seduced him so playfully and kissed him with such tender heat?
One mitigating set of circumstances came immediately to mind: ever since Garak had come to him to have stitches put in his arm Julian had paid closer attention to what was said about the crime lord in the newspapers and on radio, and he'd read in three different articles how savage the reign of Garak's predecessor and mentor, Enabran Tain, had been — and how Garak had ushered in a less violent and overtly cruel era when he took control of Tain's operation. He'd stopped using children as alcohol and drug runners and as lookouts, and since he'd become head of the Obsidian gang there'd been far fewer reports of women being forced into lives of prostitution. Oh, Garak's practices were certainly still bad enough, but he was more inclined to conciliation with his enemies than to killing them, and his presence had led to more stability and less outright warfare on the mean streets controlled by his gang. One newspaper reporter had gone so far as to dub him "The Kindly Kingpin", although the moniker didn't seem to have caught on.
Constable Odo's opinion, when Julian had gone to him shortly after Garak's impromptu late-night visit, had been much less charitable. "You're lucky you got out of it alive," the Changeling had told Julian bluntly when he'd heard the full account. "Elim Garak is one of the most dangerous men in this city: he's been responsible for the deaths of at least twelve people and the disappearance of twenty-two others, and that's not counting the ones who've died from the 'product' his organization sells on the streets. Oh, he attends high society functions and donates to charity and makes a big show out of cutting back his prostitution racket and setting up soup kitchens for little children, but anybody with a working knowledge of the underworld could tell you that he's got plenty of blood on his hands and he doesn't hesitate to use violence when it suits his purposes. I'd advise you to stay as far away from him as possible."
It had been advice that Julian had fully intended to take: he had enough trouble in his life without getting anywhere near a Cardassian warlord, didn't he? What he hadn't counted on was the warlord coming after him with such confident and masterful seductiveness that it had set his internal compass wildly spinning. It was spinning still, and as the sun tracked across the sky toward its zenith he found himself periodically wondering if Garak had somehow managed to slip something into the juice he'd been drinking at the party, because he didn't seem to be thinking very clearly if he was seriously considering actually getting into that car and letting it take him wherever Garak wanted it to.
The alternative was refusing to go, and possibly never seeing the Cardassian again. The heat that still simmered in his core whenever he remembered the quality of Garak's smile ruled out that possibility, so at noon he left Doctor Albright in charge long enough to slip out to the bank and withdraw twenty dollars from his personal account, sufficient to pay for his own dinner and take a cab from just about anywhere in the city if things turned sour (and what if he takes you outside city limits? the deep voice whispered, but he firmly set aside the notion of being abducted and told himself he'd cross that bridge if he came to it, and tried not to think about whether the prospect alarmed him or excited him).
He had plenty to keep him busy — Sundays at the Clinic were the only day some people had to come in for problems that had been lingering all week — but underneath the activity he was waiting, waiting. All afternoon he bustled back and forth, evaluating and diagnosing and treating and soothing and admonishing, presenting the authoritative face of modern Medicine while the war between caution and daring raged ever more savagely in his breast. By the time the sun was sinking behind the skyline he felt like he was going to jump out of his own skin at the slightest provocation. He doubted that his patients noticed, but Nurse Jabara, who had been his right hand since the facility opened and was one smart cookie, definitely did.
"Are you feeling all right, Doctor?" she asked, after following him when he went into the back of the Clinic to sneak a couple of mouthfuls of coffee between cases.
"Hm?" Standing at the central table with the coffee pot in one hand and a cup in the other, he glanced up at her with surprise — and, he hoped, no trace of guilt. "Oh, I'm fine, Nurse — perfectly fine."
She studied him with her alert brown eyes as he poured, set down the pot, and tipped three teaspoons of sugar into his cup. "Hm," she repeated wryly, which earned her an exasperated look. "You seem a little nervous, is all."
"Nervous? Me?" He laughed at the notion and tossed back a mouthful of the lukewarm brew, his mind racing: he knew that telling falsehoods had never been his strong suit, and judging by the older woman's expression she wasn't buying this one for a second… and since she was scheduled to stay to the end of his own shift, she'd probably notice him getting into a strange car when it was over. "Well… a little," he admitted, and fiddled with the cup for a second, then put it down on the table and cleared his throat. "You know Elim Garak…?"
One eyebrow rose. "The head of the Obsidian gang?" The last two words were practically spat. "What about him?"
"Yes. Him. Well, he's… I met him at Dame Van der Veer's party yesterday, and he's asked to see me later tonight."
Both eyebrows elevated alarmingly. "To 'see' you? What does he mean, 'see' you?"
"Frankly, I have no idea." Which was true, as far as it went: Garak hadn't outright said that he intended to continue the seduction. "But he was very insistent and wouldn't take 'no' for an answer."
"Well, you can't go!" She was scowling now, looking at him with that maternal concern that sometimes annoyed him but now made him feel obscurely comforted. "Why didn't you say something earlier? By the Prophets! Have you told Constable Odo?"
"No," Julian said firmly, "and I have no intention of doing so until I know exactly what's going on."
"What's going on?" She was fluffing up like a mother hen. "I'll tell you what's going on — he means to do you harm! To threaten you, or try to blackmail you, or have you beaten to within an inch of your life!"
"Actually, he was very polite —"
"Of course he was!" Jabara practically growled. "Men like him — Cardassians — always are, just as they're getting ready to pump you full of —"
"Nurse," Julian interjected sharply in a tone that brooked no argument, and turned around to put his right hand on her shoulder. She looked like she was going to keep going for a second, but he frowned sternly and she closed her mouth. "He didn't threaten me, and he hasn't sent any thugs to break up the Clinic or harass our patients. All he said was that he'd send a car by to pick me up after my shift, and that we'd meet for dinner. And," he said when her lips parted again, "I've been to the bank and gotten out enough money to get myself home from anywhere in the city."
She stared at him incredulously. "You're not actually going to go, are you?"
"I'm going to hear what he has to say." Julian shrugged, then smiled slightly. "Who knows? He's pumped a lot of money into this neighbourhood already. Maybe he's going to give some of it to us."
"Blood money," Jabara asserted, but he could tell that she was standing down, and after a moment she sighed and her stiffened shoulder softened a little under his hand. "Oh, Doctor… it's pointless trying to talk you out of this, isn't it?"
"You know me better than that," Julian said, his smile widening.
"I do." She studied his face with a blend of concern and determination. "All right. But for the sake of the Prophets, be careful! And if you're not back at your apartment by tomorrow morning —"
"I may be out very late, and it's been a long day already, so don't go knocking on my door before noon, if you please." He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze and removed his hand. "I'll be fine, Elin: I'm a big boy, and I know how to take care of myself."
"You're much too trusting," she countered, "and when it comes to Cardassians, that's a recipe for disaster."
"I'll keep that in mind," Julian said, turning back to pick up his coffee and trying not to let her words rouse the apprehensive part of him to another round of fretting about something that was already a fait accompli.
************************************
Over the course of the afternoon the clear bright sky turned cloudy, and shortly after sunset a thin rain began to fall. When Julian finally wound things down for the night, just before 9:30 PM, it was pattering fitfully against the windows, and while Jabara turned out the front lights and left by the front door and locked it behind her he glanced out through the small barred pane of glass beside the back door and saw a car waiting about fifteen feet down the alley, black and enigmatic in the dense shadows.
For an instant his heart fluttered in his chest, and he thought about silently turning out the remaining lights and taking his own leave via the front street entrance, leaving all the possibilities that car represented unexplored. But he also knew that if he did that he'd be wondering about it for the rest of his life, so he set about his final check of the building and returned to the back door, opening it and stepping out and huddling under the little awning just above it while he locked the door and checked to make sure it was secure. Then he took a deep steadying breath and stepped out into the rain, heading toward the new life he'd chosen with a brisk and determined stride that, he hoped, betrayed none of the nervous energy thrilling through every tissue of his body.
[TO BE CONTINUED…]
Part Four here.
Pairing: Garak/Bashir
Rating: R (thus far)
Word Count: 2310
Summary: Julian Bashir is both shaken and stirred — again — by a mysterious Cardassian crime lord who seems to have set his sights on making Julian his own.
Notes: 1) Set in the 1920's DS9 "Gumshoe AU" that started on Tumblr, in which Garak is a gangster and Julian is a brash young doctor who's set up a public health clinic on Skid Row. 2) A sequel/continuation of "Doubt", which is quite short and should be read first.
Part One here.
Part Two here.
************************************
When Julian got home he found a note from Nurse Jabara Elin slipped under his front door; as they'd agreed, she'd walked the two and a half blocks to his run-down apartment building from the Clinic after it closed for the night and submitted a brief report, which indicated that the staff had seen the usual assortment of bar fight injuries and alcohol poisonings they encountered on Saturday nights, seven of which had been been serious enough to send along to Metropolitan Hospital for further treatment. They'd also handled two Human female rape victims, a Human child with a broken finger, and a Bajoran man with a deep chest infection who'd been given medication and told to report back in three days; seeing the name, Julian recognized it as belonging to a fellow who suffered such ailments on a regular basis and would likely not return as ordered, which was a big part of his ongoing problem. Thinking about possible ways to convince Mister Teevar that he should really pay attention to medical personnel kept Julian from obsessing about less proper subjects as he prepared for bed, and he fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.
But the second his eyes opened again he felt the bright tingle of anticipation, like a child on Christmas morning, and then he remembered: I agreed to meet Elim Garak for supper tonight. Turning on the bedside light, he glanced at his clock and saw that he was up a full hour earlier than usual, but restlessness wouldn't let him relax, much less go back to sleep: he sprang out of bed, had a warm shower and a shave, whipped up a quick breakfast, bolted it down, and briskly walked the long blocks to the Clinic in the fresh dawn light that made even the tired inner city seem gilded and somehow splendid. Nurse Eileen Fisher was just putting on coffee as he came in the door, and her welcoming smile — she had a crush on him, he knew, but he'd always felt more paternal toward her than amorous — only put an extra shine on the day.
Julian went about his duties with a spring in his step and a song in his heart, alternately eager and nervous, even if the cause of his contradictory moods was something he could never admit, especially to Nurse Jabara, who had a natural distaste for Cardassians — well, some Cardassians, at any rate, she never hesitated to help the ones who came through the Clinic's doors in their hour of need, but she detested the ones like Garak and his gang who operated from positions of ruthless power. Mercifully she didn't bring up that particular subject during the morning: Julian was already holding his own lively internal debate between the inarguable reaction of his body and mind — for Garak was intrinsically charismatic and intelligent and attractive on a number of different levels, even if Julian wasn't quite sure yet just how the physical side of it worked — and his awareness of what Garak actually was, the leader of a criminal organization that dealt in bootleg alcohol, drugs, prostitution, blackmail, and murder on top of everything else. How was he supposed to reconcile that brutal occupation with the man who'd seduced him so playfully and kissed him with such tender heat?
One mitigating set of circumstances came immediately to mind: ever since Garak had come to him to have stitches put in his arm Julian had paid closer attention to what was said about the crime lord in the newspapers and on radio, and he'd read in three different articles how savage the reign of Garak's predecessor and mentor, Enabran Tain, had been — and how Garak had ushered in a less violent and overtly cruel era when he took control of Tain's operation. He'd stopped using children as alcohol and drug runners and as lookouts, and since he'd become head of the Obsidian gang there'd been far fewer reports of women being forced into lives of prostitution. Oh, Garak's practices were certainly still bad enough, but he was more inclined to conciliation with his enemies than to killing them, and his presence had led to more stability and less outright warfare on the mean streets controlled by his gang. One newspaper reporter had gone so far as to dub him "The Kindly Kingpin", although the moniker didn't seem to have caught on.
Constable Odo's opinion, when Julian had gone to him shortly after Garak's impromptu late-night visit, had been much less charitable. "You're lucky you got out of it alive," the Changeling had told Julian bluntly when he'd heard the full account. "Elim Garak is one of the most dangerous men in this city: he's been responsible for the deaths of at least twelve people and the disappearance of twenty-two others, and that's not counting the ones who've died from the 'product' his organization sells on the streets. Oh, he attends high society functions and donates to charity and makes a big show out of cutting back his prostitution racket and setting up soup kitchens for little children, but anybody with a working knowledge of the underworld could tell you that he's got plenty of blood on his hands and he doesn't hesitate to use violence when it suits his purposes. I'd advise you to stay as far away from him as possible."
It had been advice that Julian had fully intended to take: he had enough trouble in his life without getting anywhere near a Cardassian warlord, didn't he? What he hadn't counted on was the warlord coming after him with such confident and masterful seductiveness that it had set his internal compass wildly spinning. It was spinning still, and as the sun tracked across the sky toward its zenith he found himself periodically wondering if Garak had somehow managed to slip something into the juice he'd been drinking at the party, because he didn't seem to be thinking very clearly if he was seriously considering actually getting into that car and letting it take him wherever Garak wanted it to.
The alternative was refusing to go, and possibly never seeing the Cardassian again. The heat that still simmered in his core whenever he remembered the quality of Garak's smile ruled out that possibility, so at noon he left Doctor Albright in charge long enough to slip out to the bank and withdraw twenty dollars from his personal account, sufficient to pay for his own dinner and take a cab from just about anywhere in the city if things turned sour (and what if he takes you outside city limits? the deep voice whispered, but he firmly set aside the notion of being abducted and told himself he'd cross that bridge if he came to it, and tried not to think about whether the prospect alarmed him or excited him).
He had plenty to keep him busy — Sundays at the Clinic were the only day some people had to come in for problems that had been lingering all week — but underneath the activity he was waiting, waiting. All afternoon he bustled back and forth, evaluating and diagnosing and treating and soothing and admonishing, presenting the authoritative face of modern Medicine while the war between caution and daring raged ever more savagely in his breast. By the time the sun was sinking behind the skyline he felt like he was going to jump out of his own skin at the slightest provocation. He doubted that his patients noticed, but Nurse Jabara, who had been his right hand since the facility opened and was one smart cookie, definitely did.
"Are you feeling all right, Doctor?" she asked, after following him when he went into the back of the Clinic to sneak a couple of mouthfuls of coffee between cases.
"Hm?" Standing at the central table with the coffee pot in one hand and a cup in the other, he glanced up at her with surprise — and, he hoped, no trace of guilt. "Oh, I'm fine, Nurse — perfectly fine."
She studied him with her alert brown eyes as he poured, set down the pot, and tipped three teaspoons of sugar into his cup. "Hm," she repeated wryly, which earned her an exasperated look. "You seem a little nervous, is all."
"Nervous? Me?" He laughed at the notion and tossed back a mouthful of the lukewarm brew, his mind racing: he knew that telling falsehoods had never been his strong suit, and judging by the older woman's expression she wasn't buying this one for a second… and since she was scheduled to stay to the end of his own shift, she'd probably notice him getting into a strange car when it was over. "Well… a little," he admitted, and fiddled with the cup for a second, then put it down on the table and cleared his throat. "You know Elim Garak…?"
One eyebrow rose. "The head of the Obsidian gang?" The last two words were practically spat. "What about him?"
"Yes. Him. Well, he's… I met him at Dame Van der Veer's party yesterday, and he's asked to see me later tonight."
Both eyebrows elevated alarmingly. "To 'see' you? What does he mean, 'see' you?"
"Frankly, I have no idea." Which was true, as far as it went: Garak hadn't outright said that he intended to continue the seduction. "But he was very insistent and wouldn't take 'no' for an answer."
"Well, you can't go!" She was scowling now, looking at him with that maternal concern that sometimes annoyed him but now made him feel obscurely comforted. "Why didn't you say something earlier? By the Prophets! Have you told Constable Odo?"
"No," Julian said firmly, "and I have no intention of doing so until I know exactly what's going on."
"What's going on?" She was fluffing up like a mother hen. "I'll tell you what's going on — he means to do you harm! To threaten you, or try to blackmail you, or have you beaten to within an inch of your life!"
"Actually, he was very polite —"
"Of course he was!" Jabara practically growled. "Men like him — Cardassians — always are, just as they're getting ready to pump you full of —"
"Nurse," Julian interjected sharply in a tone that brooked no argument, and turned around to put his right hand on her shoulder. She looked like she was going to keep going for a second, but he frowned sternly and she closed her mouth. "He didn't threaten me, and he hasn't sent any thugs to break up the Clinic or harass our patients. All he said was that he'd send a car by to pick me up after my shift, and that we'd meet for dinner. And," he said when her lips parted again, "I've been to the bank and gotten out enough money to get myself home from anywhere in the city."
She stared at him incredulously. "You're not actually going to go, are you?"
"I'm going to hear what he has to say." Julian shrugged, then smiled slightly. "Who knows? He's pumped a lot of money into this neighbourhood already. Maybe he's going to give some of it to us."
"Blood money," Jabara asserted, but he could tell that she was standing down, and after a moment she sighed and her stiffened shoulder softened a little under his hand. "Oh, Doctor… it's pointless trying to talk you out of this, isn't it?"
"You know me better than that," Julian said, his smile widening.
"I do." She studied his face with a blend of concern and determination. "All right. But for the sake of the Prophets, be careful! And if you're not back at your apartment by tomorrow morning —"
"I may be out very late, and it's been a long day already, so don't go knocking on my door before noon, if you please." He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze and removed his hand. "I'll be fine, Elin: I'm a big boy, and I know how to take care of myself."
"You're much too trusting," she countered, "and when it comes to Cardassians, that's a recipe for disaster."
"I'll keep that in mind," Julian said, turning back to pick up his coffee and trying not to let her words rouse the apprehensive part of him to another round of fretting about something that was already a fait accompli.
************************************
Over the course of the afternoon the clear bright sky turned cloudy, and shortly after sunset a thin rain began to fall. When Julian finally wound things down for the night, just before 9:30 PM, it was pattering fitfully against the windows, and while Jabara turned out the front lights and left by the front door and locked it behind her he glanced out through the small barred pane of glass beside the back door and saw a car waiting about fifteen feet down the alley, black and enigmatic in the dense shadows.
For an instant his heart fluttered in his chest, and he thought about silently turning out the remaining lights and taking his own leave via the front street entrance, leaving all the possibilities that car represented unexplored. But he also knew that if he did that he'd be wondering about it for the rest of his life, so he set about his final check of the building and returned to the back door, opening it and stepping out and huddling under the little awning just above it while he locked the door and checked to make sure it was secure. Then he took a deep steadying breath and stepped out into the rain, heading toward the new life he'd chosen with a brisk and determined stride that, he hoped, betrayed none of the nervous energy thrilling through every tissue of his body.
[TO BE CONTINUED…]
Part Four here.