Title: Five Things Elim Garak Could Have Conjured
Author: Yami no Kaiba
Fandom: Star Trek DS9
Rating: R
Pairing: Garak/Bashir

Summary: Exploring Garak's possible experiences during "If Wishes Were Horses".
Disclaimers: I do not own the characters or the concepts of Star Trek in any of its forms.
Note: C&C deeply appreciated.

*---*---1---*---*

Garak awoke sharply, not even twitching an eyelid, unconsciously responding to a new presence in his room. Straining his hearing to catch the sound of breathing and pinpoint the location of the intruder, he languidly shifted as if still asleep, slipping his hand under his pillow for the disrupter he kept there.

As his fingertips creased the mildly cooler metal, his hearing caught the light, hushed panting of the other mixed with the soft musical chinks of various pieces of metal sliding and clicking on itself. Just to the right of the foot of his bed--

--which mattress was dipping under foreign weight. Snapping his eyes open, he twisted about, disrupter in hand and already pointed at his intruder, finger firmly on the trigger--

--and hesitated, startled into stillness as he stared into the pupil-blown hazel eyes of Julian Bashir.

A very naked, collared and chained to the foot of Garak's bed by a single ankle cuff of what looked like soft black leather, Julian Bashir. A Julian Bashir who was panting lightly, dark eyes filled with obvious desire and need, kneeling hands and knees on his bed with a single hand stretched out and stilled between them.

*This* was different. Alternate Realty? Parallel Dimension? Station-wide sickness? Q joke?

Not-Bashir's eyes flickered to the still powered disrupter and back to Garak. A careful, artful swipe of that red tongue across those pretty lips, "Master, *please*..."

Well, he thought as he powered down the disrupter and returned it to its hiding spot. Never let it be said that Elim Garak let such an easy opportunity pass him by.

Reaching out to grasp Not-Bashir's extended wrist, Garak smiled charmingly as he tugged that lovely replication of human male perfection into his lap and up against his scaled chest. "Why of course, my pretty one," he whispered, ducking his head to mark a heated trail of breath against that dark, smooth skinned neck and inducing a small whimper from the human. "How ever could I ignore you in such a..." He nipped the skin lightly, causing the being in his arms to squirm and press more firmly into him, "Delicate situation?"

If Garak managed to get a good bout of sex with his favorite wet dream before what he'd make sure was a very informative session of 'pillow talk'... Well, that was just a bonus.

*---*---2---*---*

Garak blinked and made a double-take, suddenly understanding that particular phrase from many of the various novels that Bashir had loaned him as he stepped back further onto the Promenade and allowed his shop's doors to close in front of him. Surely he hadn't seen...?

Fairly convinced he definitely hadn't, Garak stepped forward again, the doors sliding open once more--

--and the landscape of Cardassia Prime was spread out before him, hundreds and thousands of his people milling in the streets, stopping to look up at the screens above that boasted the Governmental propaganda of living and dying for the State, or traveling with purpose as they went about their business from building to building.

He could hear snatches of various conversations, ranging from debates over the newest artists at the Cardassian Institute of Art, the prospects of certain Glins that were expecting to become Guls at the promotion ceremony next lunar cycle, to whispers of the Obsidian Order having taken another dissident from their home.

It was everything he could have dreamed of. Everything he had wanted for years. What he still yearned for.

Though only a fool would believe it was real, with the sound of Bajoran chatter right behind him.

Eyes hardening, a snarl building in his throat, Garak turned around and stalked away from his shop, plans to find the ones responsible for this cruel joke already unfolding in his mind.

Oh, would he make them pay.

*---*---3---*---*

Garak was tapping at his mug in irritation, eyes narrowed at his dinning companion. "Really, Doctor, *must* you be a standard example of your species gender clichés? I know the general rumor has it that the human male thinks about sex about every three minutes, or some relevantly small amount of time, but this is really beginning to be an exasperating experience."

Bashir blushed, ducking his head as he pushed away the clingy incarnation of Jadzia Dax, which promptly disappeared once more. "I'm sorry, Garak. I don't *mean* to, it just... happens."

"I'm sure," Garak said disapprovingly, taking his mug firmly in his hands and bringing it to his lips for a sip. Really, young ones these days. Besides, it was so *obvious* Bashir wasn't really interested beyond the chase when it came to the Trill. Just the clothes alone that the doctor imagined Jadzia in should clue in anyone watching.

If Bashir had *really* wanted the Sub-Commander, the outfit would have most likely been a slinky, semi see-through dress that was just this side of showing detail, with a low bust line to show-off the Trill's cleavage. Some strategic slits along the sides and arms to show off the lines of spots along the lady's smooth skin as to tantalize the mind and give a drastic contrast to the obscured areas. Perhaps of that nice, vivid sea-blue color that only Bolian silk managed to produce. The bodice would have to have a classic geometric design inlaid into the fabric while the skirt would have more of the free flowing art typical of the less disciplined minds that were found in the Federation. In fact, he could picture it right now, draped enticingly on a mannequin from his shop.

A pop of displaced air caused the both of them to turn their attention to the right of their table.

Bashir blinked eyes wide in appreciation. "Wow. And I always thought you were lying when you said you were distracted by one of your client's orders."

Garak sipped his mug, having no real answer to that besides the truth that he really had been lying to the doctor. Though this surprise did come with a perfect opportunity...

Closing his eyes with a mental smile, he brought up the image he always loved to amuse himself with when he had spare time.

Another pop and the startled squawk of his dinning companion made Garak open his eyes. Across from him, startled and flustered, the doctor was running his frail seeming hands down the metal grill of the chest plate that now protected his vulnerable vitals.

He had to admit; Julian Bashir did look rather fetching in a Cardassian military uniform.

*---*---4---*---*

With a mug of Rokassa juice and a pirated copy of one of the newest Enigma Tales, Garak was fairly content to pass the day in his shop, even if he might not make a sale today. Leaning against the bulkhead behind his counter while dismissing the passing thought of possibly bringing in a stool, he brought his mug up to his lips for a sip even as he heard the swish of his shop's door opening.

Looking up from Rinki's less than believable protestation of innocence, Garak had the usual greeting on his lips when he caught sight of his customer and was silenced as the unfamiliar creeping feeling of hope twisted in his gut.

Enabran Tain was glancing around, obviously taking note and accessing the danger of his surroundings as anyone trained by him could tell, before looking Garak right in the eyes and raising an eyeridge. "Come now, Elim, aren't you happy to see me?"

Hesitating only slightly, Garak carefully placed the PADD and mug onto the counter before him. "Don't you think that would all depend on why you're here, Enabran?"

Tain waved a hand as if to throw the very idea away. "Can't a retired man see his own son on occasion?"

Elation leapt through Garak's entire being at that one, single, coveted word. Slightly dizzy with the increased euphoria, Garak could barely string the words together to reply, "Ah, perhaps if you were as sentimental as these Federation species, I'd believe it. But I think we both know each other better than that."

Tain chuckled deeply, eyes glinting in the shop lights as he approached the counter. "Well said, my boy. It's time to pack your bags, Elim," he leaned over the counter, eyes alight with malicious glee. "The need for a Gardener at Federation Headquarters has become most pressing."

A slow, matching smile crossed Garak's face. "Whatever you need weeded, Sir. I am at your disposal."

*---*---5---*---*

Garak paused at the entry to the Infirmary, eyes widening at the sight before him. "Doctor...?"

Julian Bashir groaned and knocked his head back against the bed, flushing in embarrassment even as he mumbled a reply. "Hi, Garak. Is it really lunch time already?"

Stepping into the room and allowing the doors to swish shut behind him he ran his eyes over the doctor's bound form, lingering on the safety restraints tightly hugging Bashir's thin wrists. "Might I ask how you came to be in this position?"

"You can, but I'd really rather not say," Julian replied, attempting to free himself from the ankle straps with a jerk of his legs.

No success of course, but Garak was fairly sure the action had been more about the attempt than anything else. "Might I also inquire as to the whereabouts of your staff?"

"I let them go home earlier while still on-call. I mean, it was pretty quiet and what with the situation all around the station, I didn't really think there'd be any need for them..."

Garak perked up, scenting information as he dragged his eyes back to Bashir's. "Situation?"

Julian shrugged, or at least attempted to. "Some one or thing is making people's imaginations come true."

Garak stepped up to the bed, and trailed a hand along one of Bashir's pant legs. "Then this seems to be a *very* informative position I've found you in."

The doctor shifted under his palm. "Stop that. Really, this isn't *my* idea. My imagined Jadzia did this. Laughed a good five minutes before leaving me here, too."

Garak shook his head, clicked his tongue, and let his hand continue up to the doctor's torso. "And here I thought you'd had Psychology courses at that Academy of yours, Doctor. Tell me, if your strongest desired thoughts are currently coming true, then why exactly are you still restrained?"

Julian's muscles twitched beneath Garak's hand. "Look, I know what you're trying to hint at, but this whole real dream thing seems pretty random so far. For all I know whatever's doing it just got bored with me and left."

"Or perhaps your mind simply isn't as focused as part of you wants it to be. Let's try a little experiment, shall we?" Garak lifted an eyeridge, before closing his eyes and concentrating on what he wanted.

When he heard Bashir gasp and felt warm, smooth skin beneath his hand, he knew he had his answer.

--Fin.