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purplespacekitty · 6 months ago

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Ramblings on Tora Ziyal

I think it’s well beyond a shame that they killed off Ziyal because I really would have liked to see her Cardassian-Bajoran identity more fleshed out and have her navigate the world beyond her father’s influence. She was starting to do that a bit with Kira and Garak (though I strongly feel that Garak should have been more of a mentor figure than a love interest) and it would have been really cool to see her get to hang out with Jake and Nog and just be a kid for once. It feels way too weird the way they began her character as this traumatized little girl who knew nothing but the brief time of her life she spent with her mother on Bajor and the horrors of the Breen mines and then magically turned her into this saccharine sweet, mostly well-adjusted young woman who loves her tyrant father despite his crimes (and in many ways, is seemingly unaware of them???????). Where was the therapy? Where was the rehabilitation? Where was the jaded child we saw in “Indiscretion”? What if Ziyal had been allowed to channel her anger and pain into learning about Bajor and Cardassia, into healing herself? Her dad basically plucked her out of the Breen mines after years of giving less than a Cardassian vole's asshole about her and then it turns out he originally planned to kill her when he found her? After she prayed for years that he'd come and save her? I'd be pissed.

But also, I wish they'd explored more of why she didn't appear to be all that pissed. We have almost no other context for Ziyal's childhood, certainly not any of what it was like before Dukat sent her and Naprem away. Was it simply exhaustion and desperation that led her to the conclusion that she'd rather die than not be with him once he'd found her? Was there a guise Dukat put up to portray himself as a kind father and mask the tyrant underneath before he sent Naprem and Ziyal away? Or did she even get to see Dukat at all in her early childhood? Did she simply assume he would be a loving father? Is that the image Ziyal clung to for comfort for all those years? Did she cling so tightly she could do little else but believe it?

It feels icky to kind of reduce her existence to Dukat Drama™ the way the show ultimately did with her death. Why didn’t we get to see her experiencing disillusionment about Dukat, who never actually changed for the better when she was still alive and trying to get him to stop being so horrible? Why didn’t we get any Rugal-level anger from her, the hushed-up child of a Bajoran comfort woman and the genocidal former Prefect of Bajor? Because, obviously, Dukat never actually took his fatherhood to her seriously. She tried to imagine him as someone he was not and he predictably chose to inflate his own ego by encouraging her. She wasn't much more to him than a device to garner some twisted idea of sympathy for himself. Ziyal needed more of a chance to break away from relying on Dukat for unconditional love. Because his love, as we know, was not unconditional. In fact, I hesitate to even call it love at all, given how ready he was to manipulate Ziyal, how ready he was to get rid of her. She had unconditional love from Kira, who immediately went to bat for her before she’d even met her when she found out what Dukat planned to do to his own daughter. And I totally believe Garak’s love for Ziyal could have grown into something unconditional, but they ruined it with some weird, out-of-nowhere romance with an uncomfortable age gap and then had her killed off like some tragic, helpless maiden.

DS9 was sort of the only place Ziyal could experience any sort of semblance of real safety in her life, especially considering both Bajoran and Cardassian attitudes towards biracial children. It would have been interesting to explore an arc with her making DS9 her home as a place that is conducive to the cohabitation of many different species and cultures while also wrestling with isolation and ostracization from those who share in the two most pervasively impactful facets of her identity. Maybe the writers wanted to focus on portraying her girlhood and favored it over exploring the complexities of her Cardassian-Bajoran heritage. But honestly, they failed at both. She never got to have a girlhood and she ultimately became more of a plot device than a fully-fledged character. This franchise started off with its most interesting and beloved main character being both Vulcan and human. I know Ziyal is someone else entirely, but they totally could have done more with her than they did.

I would love, love, LOVE to see her engage with different aspects of both Bajoran and Cardassian culture. I wonder if she would develop any kind of spirituality regarding the Prophets. Since Bajorans are widely a spiritual people, it's possible Naprem shared some of her spiritual practices with her daughter. If she did, does Ziyal observe those practices to feel closer to her mother? Does she seek Kira's help in learning more about Bajoran spirituality? Do they connect over the struggles their faith has gotten them through? Would delving deeper into Bajoran spirituality open a gateway to acceptance from other Bajorans? Or would it make them turn their backs on her even more? How does her Cardassian-Bajoran heritage impact the way she interacts with her own spirituality and beliefs? As far as Cardassian culture goes, Garak certainly has an eye for art and I could see her connecting with Professor Natima Lang, Hogue and Rekelen and learning about Cardassia's resistance movements.

Also, multiple Bajoran and Cardassian drinks, confections and meals are shown throughout the series and especially with respect to its main character, DS9 frequently places food in an important cultural, community-building role. As someone whose strongest connection to their own heritage comes from food, I would have loved to see Ziyal engage with both Bajoran and Cardassian culture through food.

Obviously, we were robbed of heaps and heaps of space station shenanigans:

Nog sharing what he learns from Starfleet Academy with Ziyal, Ziyal trying tube grubs and actually liking them.

Ziyal illustrating Jake’s stories into comic books or murals and the two of them creating stuff together and maybe some nerdy pop culture history discussions on the side. I feel like Jake, Nog and Ziyal would totally have weekly movie nights.

Odo looking out for her, giving her advice about handling bullies, the two of them bonding over being generally considered the odd ones out and Ziyal making paintings to add to his quarters.

Kira giving her lots of hugs, teaching her to fight, protecting her from bigots and helping her embrace her Bajoran background, teaching her Bajoran culture. Ziyal stealing clothes from Kira's closet occasionally ("You hardly ever wear anything other than your uniform, anyway! And they fit, see?"). Ziyal sneakily tagging along on Kira and Dax's trips to the holosuites, eventually convincing them to just invite her to them regularly, anyway. She knows how to use her cuteness as a force for good, but more importantly, she knows how to use it as a force for capers and hijinks.

Garak making her clothes, teaching her the art of cunning deceit and helping her embrace her Cardassian background, teaching her Cardassian culture. More hangouts in the holosuites basking on steaming rocks. And the two of them giggling in tasteful mirth at Bashir because he finds Cardassian literature boring.

Gossiping with Bashir and Jadzia, learning to treat wounds and carry a bat’leth, never growing tired of Dax’s many tales of woe, romance and adventure.

Sisko teaching her how to cook and inviting her to play baseball with him and Jake.

Quark occasionally letting her have a drink on the house because she can be more devious than him if she wants to be (“Listen, kid, if you’ll get rid of all this root beer for me, you can have as many free glasses as you want”).

Leeta and Rom being the cool aunt and uncle who buy her all the jumja sticks she wants.

Babysitting Molly and Kirayoshi and learning about plants, science and Earth history from Keiko. I wish Keiko had gotten more screen time - in general, but also of her in her element, studying plants and playing music. It's criminal that we never see Keiko play her clarinet in DS9, so I definitely would love to see the two of them playing music together if Ziyal felt so inclined.

Leaving O’Brien in the dust at darts for reasons he simply cannot fathom.

Listening to Klingon opera with Worf over glasses of prune juice.

Becoming an accidental stowaway on Kasidy’s freighter one day and Kasidy taking her with on missions to Bajor. Kasidy, Keiko and Ziyal hanging out together is a trio dynamic that never happened and definitely should have.

Talking stuff out with Ezri, the two of them commiserating over their respective identity crises.

Dressing up for nights at Vic’s.

Learning about Klingon music from that Klingon chef (I believe his name is Kaga) on the Promenade.

Punching each successive version of Weyoun in the fucking face (maybe even Weyoun 6, accidentally or intentionally, doesn't matter, it would just be funny).

Rebel strategies with Damar (I think he’d come around if he didn’t have it out for her and got over Cardassian bureaucracy), Kira and Garak.

Helping around the house whenever she and Garak visit Mila, long talks with Mila about her Obsidian Order days.

Weekly dinners with everybody.

I want to see her making friends and being supported by all the loving, caring people around her who love her (collectively and individually) more than her actual-piece-of-shit dad. I want her to grapple with the fact that certain people hate the mere existence of her enough to want her dead but also decide to go “hell with it” and fucking live for herself. She deserves to be more than the tragedy that made Dukat finally snap and descend into pure insanity. She deserves to laugh and cry and stomp her feet and dance and shout and sing and love and play and paint to her heart’s content. She deserves to be angry. She deserves to have a childhood, an adolescence, an adulthood and an elderhood. She deserves to live. And maybe to be the perpetrator of a few political assassinations as a treat.

So………....................suffice to say, I have a LOT of thoughts about Ziyal. I love her and I wish the show runners had loved her more, too.

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vaguely-concerned · 8 months ago

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A Stitch In Time First Read Reactions & Thoughts Monster Post Part 2

and the adventure/Garak's horrible life continues!

Part 1, Part 3

- “That’s who he is now, Tolan. He’s a man.” I heard mother’s voice as I approached the opened door to our housing unit after a training session.

“He’s hard, Mila,” Father said.

“He has to be,” she replied.

“But to the point where he’s unreachable?” Father asked. “Where nothing penetrates? How can he express even his basic needs if he’s trapped inside a shell?”

“It’s better this way, Tolan. I know what’s in store for him,” Mother interrupted. There was a momentary silence.

“More Bamarren,” Father said, almost to himself. There was another silence indicating the discussion was over. I decided to take a walk.

Tolan my man. You are planting some seeds in a garden you won’t live to see here and you are so important and valid for that. Tain does his best to crush this all out of Garak eventually and almost succeeds, but I really do think that little chime of having been genuinely, unconditionally loved by someone is part of the reason he can start growing again once Bashir shows up on the scene and brings a bit of sunlight back, as it were. One man’s love can’t save you from the totalitarian state or people like Enabran Tain, but it can leave room for the possibility for something different one day, under other circumstances

- “Let’s have some tea.” He laughed because he knew that the tea he drank, which was brewed from the roots of some shrub, had made me gag the first—and only—time I’d tried it. I had a separate container of the common choban variety. We took our containers and settled in a shady place that faced the playing children.

This is such a lovely real-feeling little detail to work in — he got to taste his dad’s coffee once and Didn’t Care For It so he has his own little box of fruit tea or whatever fdlksa.

“The first Hebitians had an advanced culture that was sophisticated on every level, Elim. Yes, it was solarbased, but they were able to support themselves, and this is what most of the planet looked like.” He waved his tea container to indicate the Grounds. The idea was almost too outlandish for me. Soft and green places are rare on Cardassia.

“It’s hard to imagine, isn’t it? We live in constant struggle with the land. We’ve become as hard and dry….” Father trailed off and sipped his tea. I thought of my favorite place at Bamarren, and almost told Father about it—but how could I describe the enclosure without speaking of her?

All those secrets already getting in the way of him sharing the things he really wants to with the people he loves…

I remembered that Calyx had called me an “air man” and wondered if I didn’t get it from Father. Mother often complained that he didn’t have a grasp of what she called our “power-driven reality,” and he would reply that his reality was driven by the same power that grew his plants and shrubs. These arguments always left the house feeling divided and cold.

“I love this place, Elim. And it means a great deal to me that we’re able to spend this time with each other working here.” Father smiled and put his hand on my shoulder. He rarely touched me, and the contact embarrassed me … and sent a warm feeling through my body. I felt like one of his plants. He kept his hand on my shoulder and stared at me with an intensity that made me afraid of what he was going to say next.

Let me indulge in a Harrow the Ninth quote: “You were so afraid anyone might touch you. You had always been afraid of anyone touching you, and had not known your longing flinch was so obvious to those who tried it.”

“Was this your … ‘power,’ which makes the plants and flowers grow?”

Father’s face broke into a beaming smile, and I thought he was going to grab me. He had never looked at me like this, and I felt somehow proud that my question had gotten such a reaction. Suddenly he looked past me, and his expression—so open and so animated with the attempt to explain what essentially was unexplainable—became as unreadable as that disembodied mask.

Mother was at the door. I don’t know how long she had been there, but she was not pleased.

“Oh, Tolan,” was all she said.

“Get cleaned up, Elim,” Father said. I was aware of a strong forcefield that I had been caught in the middle of many times before. It always made me feel helpless, and this time was no exception. I gladly complied. As I was about to leave the room, however, I saw Mother’s eyes as she looked at Father. Intimate was not a word I would ever have used to describe their relationship—efficient or collaborative, perhaps—but I had never seen how much distance actually existed between them until this very moment.

Considering the fact that they’re actually siblings… I’m only impressed they managed to leave Garak with a view of romantic relationships that isn’t even weirder than it is. The starvation diet of intimacy he grew up under tho, even with parental figures who loved him as far as they were able…

- (About Mila) She was a sturdy, compact woman with prematurely graying hair and strong features that were now leading the way. She was always very patient with me, but I was under the impression that she had something of weight and consequence on her mind that discouraged everything but essential interaction.

- LMAO oh of course he uses the holosuites basically as a sauna. An ill-advisedly horny sauna right now, even fhsajkjfsa. Dude I know you’re bored and Julian won’t speak to you as much as you want him to but this is some extra level of you shouldn't be doing this (as if that has ever stopped him)

- “You’re going to work today, son.” She remained true to her course and didn’t look at me when she spoke.

“I’ve been going to work every day,” I responded, out of a childish loyalty to Father.

“That’s not your work,” she stated. “You’re a man now, and you’re being given a great opportunity. I want you to behave like a man and submit to the path that’s opening up before you.”

“Have I ever opposed your wishes, Mother?” I probably imagined the slight crack of a smile on her face.

. . .

“Your father has ideas I don’t agree with … that are best left unexpressed. I advise you to forget them. They’ll only make your work more difficult.” She stopped and looked at me for the first time. “Understand, Elim—you are being given the opportunity to move above the service class.”

I recoiled from both the word I mistrusted and the implication that the work Mother and Father did was low and demeaning.

“I was taught that the service class was an irreplaceable piece of the Cardassian mosaic,” I replied with crude irony.

“Listen to me!” she said with a passion that startled me. “You are my son and you are a Cardassian. Not a Hebitian. Look around you!” she commanded. I did. We were in the great public area which is surrounded by the buildings that house the power of the Union. “Hebitians did not build this. Cardassians did. Your father and I serve and maintain, but we do not influence or guide the destiny of the Union. You could. That’s why you must submit right now! Do you understand me, Elim? Once we walk through that door,” she indicated the one that led to the subterranean levels of the Assembly building—to the Obsidian Order—'you must submit to your fate.”

Mother’s eyes were burning with an intensity that communicated a care and passion that was every bit the equal of Father’s. I nodded dumbly. She took a deep breath and composed herself. Unconsciously, she smoothed my hair and tugged at my tunic.

“You’re a good boy … Sleg.” This time the smile was real.

He’s SO loyal!! Just the implication that what Mila and Tolan do isn’t valuable or important and he’s ready to throw hands with someone about it fdskjdas. Also “I’ve been going to work every day,” I responded, out of a childish loyalty to Father. GUH. One of nature’s ride or die people

Before Palandine, the other person in his life he uses humor to bond and communicate with is his mother. Don’t have any conclusions to draw about this but I just think it’s neat

I don’t blame Garak for having a Pavlovian horror reaction to the word ‘opportunity’ after all this

Unconsciously, she smoothed my hair and tugged at my tunic. God. God. God.

- “But what am I here for?” I now felt bolder.

“You’re here to find out who you are. And to create your own story.”

“Story?”

“Your history. Up to this point you’ve been defined by other people’s needs. Mila’s. Tolan’s. Your docent’s.”

“Yours?” I asked. Tain laughed.

“Perhaps. But here you have the opportunity to change all that.”

Okay I’m starting to feel a little ill this is going to go so horribly oh god

“When you see your mother, she is ‘Mila’ and you are to treat her like any other service worker.” He held my look to see how I would react to the last order.

Cool cool cool he didn’t even wait five minutes to begin to strip away everything in his life that isn’t tain that’s so great and wonderful

- It was at that moment that I decided that not only was I not going to open up the basement, I was not going to rebuild the house of Enabran Tain. Instead I constructed the largest and most ambitious formation of material where the center of the house—Tain’s study—had formerly been located. This was my memorial to Mila, who remained entombed in the basement. If the people need a place to mourn their dead, to mourn a way of life that will never return, then I offer the home of Enabran Tain, the man most responsible for provoking this destruction. Parmak is right: otherwise, how can we ever move ahead?

I’m so proud of him I feel like a proud parent of this fictional gay murder man old enough to be my father

- I felt oddly disconnected, almost as if I were walking next to and observing this person, Elim Garak, who was playing out a fateline that demanded his submission, and over which he had no control.

. . .

Another basement, but much smaller than home. I wondered if I’d ever live at ground level or higher in the City. . . . When there was nothing left to do I decided to go to sleep. But I couldn’t. From upstairs there came the faint sound of someone moving about. It wasn’t Tain. But how could I be sure? He seemed to be everywhere else in my life.

What is his life but a series of shitty basements when you get right down to it

- Reading, or sewing, or moving my display clothing (optimistic about the shop someday opening again), I’d feel the walls slowly moving in.

I’m just so happy to have it confirmed he really, genuinely grows to enjoy his craft. It’s so cute and I’m so glad he’s excited about it. *doing classic code breaking spy work* UGH I could be sewing right now this sucks

- “Hallo, Garak.” He was waiting at the entrance. “I hope you don’t mind, but I had something prepared for us and thought we could take lunch in my office.”

“No—that sounds fine.” I was taken back by the suggestion, since we had never dined in his office before. I followed as he led the way to the cluttered space he usually reserved for private consultations. When I saw that the table was set for three, my system went on full alert.

“Are we expecting someone else, Doctor?” I asked.

“Well, uh, yes … or rather, Odo was going to try to make it, but he may be held up.” The doctor was almost too casual as he busied himself serving the prepared dishes. “He said we should start without him.” He uncovered my food: tojal in yamok sauce, one of my favorite Cardassian dishes. Now I was certain something was up.

“Where did you find this, Doctor?” I didn’t have the heart to tell him tojal is a breakfast dish.

a) wingman odo back in action!!! ~*mysteriously late*~, is he…. b) bashir knows what cardassian food garak likes best……….. c) this man is eating the alien equivalent of eggs and bacon for dinner b/c it’s such a sweet gesture from julian even if he got it slightly wrong… omg… d) nervous Julian… I would take a bullet for you

“Oddly enough, the chef at the Klingon restaurant fancies himself an intergalactic gourmet. However, I’m afraid the concept of chips still eludes him,” the doctor said as he held up a long, greasy strip of what he called fried potato.

“What’s the occasion, Doctor? You didn’t have to go to all this trouble. You’re a busy man.”

“I just thought it’d be pleasant if we had some privacy today,” he said, avoiding a direct look.

“Oh. For any particular reason?” I asked as I began to eat.

“Well, I… uh … actually was planning to talk about this after lunch.” I could see that the doctor was out of his element. Perhaps he was disconcerted that we had to conduct this lunch without a third party.

“Talk about what, Doctor?” I put down my utensils and gave him my full attention.

“Well, I was hoping that Odo would join us.” The Doctor looked toward the door with a look that corroborated my suspicion. He suddenly nodded.

“Yes, quite right. We should do this before; we’ll digest better.” He suddenly jumped up. “I have some rokossa juice … tea?”

“What is it?” My insistence pulled him back down.

“You know how important those codes are to us. I don’t have to tell you what that information means.”

“No one knows better than I,” I said.

“Of course not. And I respect that for whatever reason you’re … unable to continue to break them down for us.”

“Yes?” I prompted.

“You see, this is so difficult, Garak. I know what a private person you are, and how you detest people meddling in your affairs….”

“Ironic for a spy, isn’t it?”

“No, everyone has a right to their privacy, but … circumstances being what they are….”

. . .

“But you see, perhaps it’s something that I can help you address.”

“Your holosuite program. The one that allows me to visit the traumas of my childhood.”

“I hesitate to suggest this, remembering how you reacted the last time … but, yes, I feel it could make a difference,” the Doctor gamely admitted.

. . .

“And you don’t think that what’s in front of us has any connection to what’s past?” he asked.

“Of course it does, but not in the causal manner you’re suggesting. One model does not fit all, however admirable that model may be.” I smiled and gestured to the Doctor; but he wasn’t in the mood for a compliment.

You know Garak I’ll give you this you never give up and I think that’s beautiful.

“You have my word, Doctor. I will do whatever I possibly can.”

“I’ve never doubted that, Garak.”

I nodded, looking at the third setting. “Tell me, Doctor, why did you invite Odo today?”

“I thought since you were working together on this project….” His voice trailed off. We just looked at each other. “I think I was afraid to do this by myself,” he finally admitted.

“I appreciate your honesty, Doctor. Please assure the captain that I will pick up more codes from Odo today.”

“Thank you, Garak.” The doctor seemed enormously relieved. He gestured to our food. “I’m afraid it’s all gone cold. Why don’t we just go to the Replimat after all?”

“Excellent suggestion,” I eagerly agreed. (He wants to get out of there b/c the small space is making him claustrophobic)

I feel like this scene is more proof that Julian feels like he keeps messing this up. Thankfully his ‘I will help you if it’s the last thing I do’ instinct remains insuppressible lol. Look tho they’re talking properly again :) Julian admits this is hard for him too and that opens something back up a bit!

‘I’ve never doubted that, Garak’ has hit me in a certain kind of way too and idk why. Garak feels like he’s failing and Julian is so immediately reassuring that he knows he’s always doing his best.

- “Learn your stories, follow orders, and serve Cardassia.”

Yeah that’s about what it boils down to huh

- “You see, all you would have to do is prevent your opponent from putting the ball into your goal.”

“And I can’t use my hands?” I asked.

“No, the goalkeeper can use any part of his body,” Hans replied with the widest grin I have ever seen on a face. Children and their games, I thought.

Fdskhfkjsdhfkjsadfhkjdsafa fdsakljfdklas yeah that does seem very human. ‘Hey do you wanna play football with us?’ and GOALIE GARAK!!! And also young adult garak still being soooo…. Somber and serious lmao. I think some of Julian’s LARP nonsense vibes are going to be good for him long-term.

Also. maybe tennis one day. That’s basically what they do verbally anyway I think he could be brought around to see the fun in it if Julian’s on the other side of the net

PS: If Garak didn’t actually fuck Hans Jordt, he was definitely ready to do so. For Cardassia, you understand.

They exhibited such a childlike joy and enthusiasm as they played that I came to understand another meaning of the word “game.” What was more puzzling, however, was watching those people who played the game for no other reason than to … just play. If they or one of their teammates made a mistake, if the opposition scored … they didn’t seem to mind. Some even laughed it off. And at the end, every one actually shook hands and congratulated each other.

They’re not stupid—Maladek has dangerously underestimated them. But there’s something we don’t understand about these humans that limits our effectiveness in dealing with them.

*Attenborough Voice* and here we see the Humans, running around kicking a ball around for, they report, ‘sheer shits and giggles’. They proclaim the whole exercise ‘fun’, even when it results in no clear practical gain either in social standing or training.

- I could only make out the occasional word, and only then if it was repeated, like “yadik,” which is what a young child calls his or her father.

Cardassian term for ‘daddy’ found! Be sure to only use this information responsibly

- Hans continued to smile, and I wondered if he really believed these sentiments—or was this another example of Federation hypocrisy? These people reduced all political complexity to pious platitudes, while they constructed the greatest empire in the history of the Alpha Quadrant.

I really like Garak’s consistently suspicious approach to the Federation philosophically and in action — it’s not that he’s necessarily right about it (tho I think he occasionally has one or two points between all the paranoia), but it is what a clever cautious person on the other side of the divide would think.

“He’s not a traitor. But he needs help. I told him not to go to you, that we’d find a way….” I trailed off, translating my ignorant isolation into that of someone caught between two powerful forces. Tears came to my eyes, and I marveled that I had absolutely no emotional attachment to them.

Yeah I’m sure you have no circumstances in your life to draw from to make this convincing

But it was too late to back down; I had to rely on human prejudice.

“Cowardice and madness are unforgivable,” I went on. “They reflect flaws in the Cardassian character that can never be redeemed.” This was to a certain extent indeed true of cowardice; madness, however, was looked upon as a mysterious disease, and those who suffered were isolated and treated well. In any event, no one was killed unless the cowardice occurred in battle.

“My God,” Hans breathed, confirming, I’m sure, his belief that we were capable of any kind of atrocity. I hated his self-righteous superiority, and calculated the several moves that would send him flying into the abyss.

This thing Garak does where he tests people in ways he has deliberately set them up to fail — and then has a really disdainful hostile reaction when they do fail. Is a pattern, I feel. He does this interpersonally a lot of the time too. I guess it’s the ‘it’s illegal to say what you’re really thinking and feeling and what you need’ disease Cardassia instills in its children lmao. That and the constant lying are tools he can use to control the levels of emotional intimacy in a relation because he’s never been allowed to set actual healthy boundaries in a relationship (submit and subsume) and a person has to salvage some psychological integrity in whatever way they can, even when it can be kind of unpleasant in action.

In the same way that Julian shares the more problematic parts of his ‘I can fix them’ side with his father, this is also a trait Garak shares with Tain, but Tain does it more deliberately and less reflexively — for Garak I think it’s partially a compartmentalization/self-justification mechanism. He engineers to find a way in which a person is shitty so he gets to write them off in his head and then they can’t hurt him and hurting them can’t hurt him. (For the Dragon Age heads out there: very much the same pattern as we see Cole narrate that Iron Bull has to do to keep functioning. The Bull/Garak parallels are frightening to behold in some ways haha ‘it’s the same picture’. Traumatized pansexual old spies in exile support club) I’m not sure Tain has the emotional capacity for true attachment in the first place to need that most of the time — the only place it really seems to pop up is ironically in his relationship to Garak, which is also partially a narcissistic impulse b/c of the ‘flesh of my flesh/reflection of myself’ element of it.

- “I may put you on the enhancer.”

I said nothing. It was enough of a challenge just to return his look.

“How would you feel about that?” he asked.

“I would … submit, of course.”

Fucking horror show culture! :)

“You did well,” he said in the same flat tone. It was amazing how quickly and completely my spirits changed.

…praise kink headcanons in further development pls stand by

- “I told them that you were in over your head and that it was because you were trying to prove something to your father.” His eyes were suddenly furious, and he grabbed my neck with his free hand and held the phaser up to my head.

“What do you know? What do you know about anything?” he screamed in my face.

Ah. The dramatic irony. It burns me and my heart to a cinder. Maladek has a surprising impact considering how briefly he’s here

“Just tell him … you did the best you could.”

This is while Garak’s mental framework of fatherhood still works along Tolan rules. And it’s SO SAD b/c oh boy that ain’t gonna last long

“Come in, Elim.” Tain had his uncle smile working today.

I hate him I hate him I hate him I HATE HIM!!!

This was my first experience with Tain’s working methods. For him it was all a puzzle, and we were the separate pieces he put together at his pleasure. I had to accept that the final result—destroying the talks—was the one he wanted. But there was one question I needed to ask. Maladek’s final look haunted me still.

“What is it, Elim?” Tain asked.

“What happened to Maladek?”

“You didn’t hear?” He seemed surprised. “A terrible thing really. He killed himself.”

I didn’t move a muscle. I felt my throat begin to constrict. Tain watched me.

. . .

At least Maladek didn’t have to worry about what he would say to his father now.

OOFIE DOOFIE! ‘Better dead than a disappointment to your father’

- The previous leadership structure has been discredited; people are aware that the military was the most influential group, and their agenda was to keep the mechanism for conquest and expansion well oiled. As long as they brought back the spoils of this policy, they were able to hold on to their power. And while I think most people now understand that direct responsibility for our current circumstances has to be placed at the door of the military, there are still many who believe otherwise.

. . .

Another man from our sector, Alon Ghemor, the nephew of Tekeny Ghemor, the legate who believed that Colonel Kira was his daughter, is organizing based on the political belief that we have to rebuild a new society administered by civilian leadership, one that lives in what he calls “creative harmony” with the rest of the Quadrant. What’s interesting is that I went to school with Ghemor. I saw him at a rally that was held here (yes, my little Tarlak has become a focal point for the sector). When he appeared I yelled, “Five Lubak!” He didn’t recognize me at first, but then his eyes widened, and he answered, “Ten!” He seemed genuinely pleased to see me. Dr. Parmak, who’s an ardent supporter of Ghemor and organized the rally, was quite impressed. It’s encouraging to see that my old schoolmate has remained a decent man.

FIVE LUBAK WAS A GHEMOR AND HE’S FINE THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!! :D this made me unreasonably happy haha. Fellow MLM Pythas enjoyer made it safely to adulthood

I’m not smart or well-read enough on the subject to really speak on this in a meaningful way, but I do recognize enough to be really intrigued by all the elements and tropes of British culture and literature Robinson employs in this book. From the particular boarding school from hell flavour to everyone in high positions he runs into being old school mates and a lot of the social mores and dynamics going on in the background (right down to the specific brand of emotional repression required by the culture, for all I make jokes about Julian’s stiff upper lip direct callout haha). It’s the horrible strictly class-segregated colonialist & expansionist evil empire of it all, I suppose. I feel like the Cardassians aren’t quite this Brit-coded in the show itself (though of course the horrors of fascism and imperialism resonate across many different cultures in Earth history, that isn’t all of what’s going on here), where it’s more of a ‘little bit of this, little bit of that, add some grey face paint and gul dukat’s giraffe-length neck and hey presto you’ve got some real problematic alligators on your hands’, but it does kind of work. It’s an intertextuality that is more readily available for a novel rather than a TV-show too — the way the form of the narrative creates the parallels as well as the contents within it.

But this is our problem now (and I can see you ready to pounce, Doctor): What is our new mechanism of choice? A small group of Mondrig’s supporters are attempting to intimidate people, but to engage them with organized opposition would be dangerous.

. . .

Dr. Parmak, however, is a believer in the democratic principles you and I have spent many hours arguing over (what is it about you doctors?). He and Ghemor want the people of the sector to be able to vote. It’s a new concept for us, but everyone is so weary from the war and its devastation that it’s a serious possibility. Yes, I can picture you sitting with your feet up, gloating with that self-satisfied smile of Federation enlightenment. And perhaps you’re right.

The tiny little Julian that lives in Garak’s brain is smiling brilliantly but SO smugly and Garak is just fondly like ‘yeah yeah babe fine you win this one’ about it fjsdkfhajkhkdsjahfjksa this is. Unspeakably sweet to me. Just the depth of how much Garak clearly wants Julian to be there with him (which is deliciously ironic given my reading that Julian has been getting the complete opposite read on him. augh)

- Indeed, judging from the way I was treated, I was regarded as one of Tain’s protégés (the “sons of Tain” they called us), and held to a rigorous standard. I was envied and feared, but returning to this house had revealed the true depths of my loneliness.

:’’’’’’’’’’(

- “Look … Mila. He’s a man,” he said with wonder, as if the intervening years had been mere days.

“Well, isn’t that what I’m supposed to be?” I tried to joke.

I feel like I’m on fire. Isn’t that what I’m supposed to be…

“You have nothing to apologize for, Elim. I’m the one who’s sorry.”

Ah yes. The fundamental Tolan/Tain divide. Tain would make Garak apologize for being born in a way so annoying to him personally and then not forgive him when he does. I think Tolan and Palandine are the only people who ever express to Garak they’re sorry for hurting him in this era

“Please, Father….”

“I’m not your father.”

I studied his face to make sure that he wasn’t drifting away. His eyes were clear and present; if anything, the glitter had intensified.

“Of course you are.” I spoke to him as if he were a child or a simpleton.

“Elim, there’s no time to waste. I have always loved you like a son. I wished with all my heart that you were my son. But you’re not.”

Now I felt like the child. “Then … I don’t understand. Who is?”

Tolan sighed. “Your mother is the one to tell you. I made a promise….” and his voice trailed off.

“I don’t understand,” I repeated. “Why?”

If I had a nickel for every time Garak had to beg his father to be allowed to even call him his father on his deathbed, I’d have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot, but it says some real weird things about Garak’s life that it happened twice

“I don’t understand,” I repeated. “Why?”

“Oh, my dear Elim. The soul of a poet, and look at you … your closed face … all those secrets….” A spasm rippled through him like a sudden wind over still water. “Too many secrets … it’s like poison.” He brought his trembling, clawlike hand up to my face. “Too many secrets poison the soul.”

What a fucking microcosm of his whole life lmao. Just. Existentially confused at all times

“Now take them and go.” He closed his eyes and went completely still. I stood there a long time. Thoughts, images, feelings swirled through me, collided, lingered, dissipated—and I did nothing but observe them. I had no choice. To identify with any one of them meant certain chaos. I maintained my detachment as I repacked the red box. A part of me stood off to the side and watched the rest of me pick up the box, go over to Tolan, and press my open palm against his cold, dry forehead.

“Good-bye, Father.”

At all times Garak is sitting in the middle of his own on-fire mind like the ‘This Is Fine’ dog and that’s so relatable of him honestly

He calls Tolan ‘Father’ right up until the end of Tolan’s life. What the hell. What the hell.

- Mila seeing the red box and just like. Sighing fhskda

- “And I have a right….” She cut herself off and made a wide gesture with her arms that seemed to include everything around her. And then it hit me … and simultaneously we both heard his footsteps upstairs. A chill went through me. Of course. I went to the stairs and looked at Mother. Her face was softer, younger. For this one moment the distance between us had dissolved. The footsteps were now directly above us. My entire life had been dominated by his presence. So had Mother’s … and Tolan’s. I nodded and started up the stairs.

“Elim….” I stopped and looked back down at her. I could see how handsome and strong her face must have been when she was young.

“What, Mother?”

“Be careful,” she finally warned.

Fucked up by just how quickly he starts to understand and sympathize with her. He lashes out at her for ten seconds and then puts the pieces together and then seems to like. Start to understand. To forgive her, even. Interpersonally he is so generous with his own forgiveness even while being starved of ever getting it in return for the longest time.

This must also be one of the last times (if not THE last time) he calls her ‘Mother’ (he also calls her that when speaking to Tain right after, and Tain doesn’t mention it but surely notices, just as he notices him calling Tolan by his first name for the first time).

‘Closing the distance’ as one of the things Garak struggles most with in personal relationships and how it only ever happens for him in short glimpses…

- “I’m glad you’ve come to me here. We can … express ourselves in a way that’s not possible elsewhere.”

Indeed, the dark room with the piled scrolls and their musky smell, the artifacts and ancient wall hangings with their glyphs and symbols—was any of it Hebitian, I wondered?—was a world far removed from the cold efficiency of the Order. We were sealed away in an ageless cavern.

“Tolan and I shared a love of classic beauty, the old aesthetics that guided and revealed. He was a visionary, Elim. All those designs at Tarlak, the way the greenswards and plantings contained the monuments, never allowing them to brutalize us with death. Mothers and children are as welcome there as the guls and legates. All were based on classical designs. Oh, yes, he was a dedicated man. You were fortunate to be able to work with him.”

‘Never allowing them to brutalize us with death’ is SUCH a phrasing. What is Tolan’s complicity in dressing up the horrors of the military state to be serene and beautiful so you don’t have to think about the sources of atrocities that lie cradled beneath the tidy well-maintained graves. What’s the responsibility of beauty, if any, other than to itself. Thinking about Garak rebuilding a different kind of Tarlak from the rubble in the ‘now’ timeline. Wild shit. More his father’s son than you’ll ever understand Tain (this is a Tolan support blog ultimately he did what he could)

Also makes me desperately curious about what the fuck went down before Garak was born. Did Tain know Tolan through Mila or vice versa? How were circumstances such that Mila and Tolan were not publicly known to be siblings, presumably? Cardassians have robust public records about that sort of thing, after all, that’s what Garak’s Obsidian Order cover story boils down to lol. Full siblings but from somewhere far enough away that no one knew them in this city, half-siblings or raised apart, not actual biological siblings but grew up together, what is the thing here? Born out of wedlock and so fallen conveniently between the administrative cracks somewhere? They’re clearly not actually living together as man and wife (thank god), but I assume they were married on paper because I doubt Tain would let there be any way to suss out the truth of the situation and leave someone to guess at his own involvement. But then Tain has friends in high places and no scruples slash soul, he could probably get something suitably convincing arranged. Also such a perfect illustration of uh everything going on here that they had to risk the chance of one day being exposed for apparent incest rather than being exposed for premarital sex right now lmao. God forbid anything break with the wholesome system of traditional Cardassian family values.

This indicates Tain knows about Tolan’s Oralian way sympathies (and presumably pretended he shared them on some deeper level than as a useful tool when they were younger), even as he’ll hold it like a Damocles sword over his head the same way he does the existence of Mila the regnar and Palandine with Garak.

Also, again: the fact that Garak doesn’t have even weirder conceptions of romantic relationships is frankly a miracle good job Tolan and Mila for not fucking him up worse

I remembered one of the few times Tain had taken me outside the city, when he’d put me on a Cardassian riding hound. He’d held the bridle and walked me around the course. Then he’d given me the bridle and had walked next to me as the hound panted and slobbered. Then he’d said, “It’s time.” He’d slapped the hound hard, and it had taken off at full speed. But I’d hung on, though frightened by the sudden speed and surging power beneath me. Gradually I’d begun to adjust and learn to roll with the hound’s concussive undulations.

“I was never happier in my life,” I said out loud. “I turned around to wave to you, and I fell.”

Tain studied me for a long moment and nodded. “And you pulled yourself up and continued to ride. I remember.”

Im haunted. Happiest day of his life and he was five years old and his father gave him — the faintest little gesture of affection and pride and that got him for life. And actually I think this is the one time/the one relationship where Tain does the thing Garak does where he makes something that moves him an enemy in his head. So few things really move Tain emotionally that I don’t think he has to resort to that in such a savagely reactive way as Garak does most of the time, but I think that day with his son might have. And that’s what he’s never going to forgive him for.

ALSO how insidious is it that the one thing Tain is truly proud of Garak for — getting up every time he falls down and trying again, even when it hurts him and he should stop, because he knows Tain is watching him — is what allows him to keep Garak hooked all those years. It’s so messed up.

- Tain remained in his chair as I walked out of the room. I walked out into the night with my red box and all the way to the Tarlak Sector. I went to the children’s area and sat across from where Tolan and I had planted the Edosian orchids. At some point I opened the box and took out the mask. I studied the eyeless face and half expected it to talk to me, to explain why my life had become so complicated, so beyond my control. But it was obviously another “night person,” guarding its secrets. There were hooks that went over the ears, and I attached the mask to my face. I sat there and waited … but nothing was revealed. Finally the tears came.

I did warn you that this was going to recur and that it would break your heart. I warned you.

- contemplating the cursed line of thought that the mila/tain/tolan thing is a mirror of one way the palandine/barkan/garak inadvisable sandwich could have gone, if barkan were smarter and capable of less brute force methods long term ala tain. You think Garak could have ever broken away again if you handed him a kid and arranged it so that their future and happiness depended on his compliance and submission no matter what you ask of him, any more than Tolan could? Thank god Barkan is an idiot basically because being trapped between Tain and this theoretical clever Barkan’s setup would probably be even more fucking ruinous to Garak’s psyche than what’s already going on here haha

- I had done what Tain asked, and in the following years no one was as dedicated a night person as I was. I went everywhere they asked me to go and stayed as long as it took to complete the mission, but Tain never said a word that would indicate whether he was pleased or displeased. In fact, I saw very little of him, and even less of Mila. This distance from them, and the fact that I was rarely home, actually made my work easier. My primary contact at the Order was Limor Prang, who became even less expressive, if that were possible, as he grew older. I knew, however, that my dedication, and the absence of any kind of life outside of the Order, concerned him. On those occasions he’d tersely suggest that I visit Morfan Province or some such popular vacation area. I’d tell him I’d consider it, and accept another assignment… or tend to my orchids… or walk.

Why is this so funny. Limor Prang being like ‘dude tain idk about this kid he does his job real well but he literally has no hobbies but murder and gardening I think there might be something fundamentally wrong with him’ (*Tain voice* yeah I know and it took a lot of effort to fuck him up this badly don’t undo all my hard work please)

- The magic of these flowers has fascinated me from the moment I first saw them. The mysterious way they reveal themselves, layer by layer…. Just when you think they can’t get any more beautiful, that you can’t learn anything more, another layer of bloom surpasses the previous one and the orchid changes personality. Recently I have developed a new indulgence—clothing—and I know it’s because of the influence of the Edosian orchid. Each time I put on another well-designed and well-tailored suit in a fabric with depth and an aesthetic pattern, I feel like another person. One of my favorite duties is to choose what I will wear for each assignment.

AUGH I am just so FOND of him!!! One of his favorite parts of his murder job is picking out what outfits he’s going to wear!!!!! His queer little flower-loving weirdo clinical murder swag is unmatched

- I looked across the greensward, and there she was, the blue-black hair and the long, dark gray skirt flowing behind her as she chased a little girl who was giggling, trying to escape from her mother but knowing that the beauty of the game was that she wouldn’t. Half of me wanted to run after them, the other half wanted to be buried deep in the ground. Why her? Why now? With sudden clarity I saw my entire life as a defense against this very moment. I didn’t want to feel what I was feeling; I didn’t want this immense burden of desire. I had learned to be satisfied with the occasional brusque sexual contact that quenched desire the way food or water did, and to live without any expectation of that touch that transforms routine into adventure. Watching Palandine and her daughter defy gravity with their dance of love destroyed all my definitions, and my carefully maintained boundaries began to give way, for the first time since Bamarren, to the magic of limitless possibility. I knew at that moment that I’d never be satisfied again. Even my beloved orchids looked like weeds.

I watched like someone unable to avert his eyes from impending horror, as the mother ran down the daughter and gathered her up in her strong arms. They were both giggling, absolutely fulfilled in each other’s company, lighting up the grounds with their radiance.

This idea of love and intimacy being likened to wanting to be able to run, in the knowledge you’ll be safely caught and held in the end, in laughter and closeness… Come find me hiding in the place I know you’ll look first, huh. (also makes his dismissal of the act of play earlier take on some new implications haha)

- Lokar was the favorite of such powerful Cardassians as his father, Draban Lokar, and Procal Dukat, key members of the Civilian Assembly and Central Command respectively. In fact, his prefect on Terok Nor, the ore processing station, was Procal’s son, Skrain Dukat. Lokar’s ambition and his prospects had no limit. Nor, it seems, did his appetite for using and disposing of people… especially women. His tyrannical excesses, visited upon friend and foe alike, were well documented; but as long as his stewardship produced such successful results no one cared. Lokar has quickly become an integral part of the easy corruption I see and smell more and more at the highest levels of our system, and which gives the lie to our stern and moralistic facade. Perhaps, I thought, when I leave for Tzenketh tomorrow, I’ll erase all memory of the way back.

. . .

There were few pedestrians, since this was the time of the evening when families gathered after a long day of work and school: The good Cardassians. The sector reeked of rectitude and self-importance.

His growing disillusionment with all of this going on in the background. (I think he backslides massively on most of that once he’s in exile b/c like. Even when home sucks it’s still home and he’s not allowed there anymore. But in his second story in The Wire he says something like ‘the whole exercise suddenly seemed utterly meaningless’, and I think it’s that dawning ennui that’s peeking through here.)

- But the jostling and the noise only made me more aware of the loathsome self-pity I was feeling. I wanted my life to be arranged without need, to be totally self-sufficient, able to do my work for the Order and find fulfillment wherever I could—to accept my life as enough. But how could I, when my deepest involvement was with orchids?

That’s the thing the wire does that is most insidious and specifically most apt to trap him, I think — it allowed at least the illusion of total emotional self-sufficiency, divorcing all the happy brain chemicals from the vulnerability of needing someone or something else. (I mean it didn’t work, he was clearly incredibly miserable anyway, but that’s the underlying seductive logic of addiction for you)

The way he thinks of this as weakness, like it’s an underlying strain of embarrassing, undisciplined self-indulgence that runs through him, when really when you look at it closely it’s his soul fighting tooth and nail to continue to exist, even on scraps, even when it’s inconvenient to the people who would rather he strangle that thing in its cradle and submit himself fully. In The Wire this is what he seems to loathe about himself most of all. It feels so… furtive and shameful, like he keeps getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar for crumbs even as he’s starving, but like yeah thank god he managed to survive it on those crumbs, right. Me @ me through Garak: Hey maybe having any kind of emotional need is not in fact a mortal sin but maybe a sign that something within you is still alive and needs a gardener’s gentle hands to grow had you even considered that

- “It takes courage to come here, to look at things the way they once were. And while they can never be that way again, we can extract an essence that will nurture and amplify our own lives. We can strive to be better friends and live with ourselves and others with respect and the recognition that each soul desires to be reconnected with the source. To enslave or prey upon each other is not how we began. We were connected to each other. We did not experience hunger, deprivation, or loneliness. We were connected, and we cared and nurtured and loved. No, friends, it’s not how we began. But if we end in isolation and hate, not even a monument in Tarlak will ease the agony of our lost soul.”

. . .

By the time I reached the door I decided that it was all sentimental nonsense. Cardassia suffered a great climatic catastrophe—and if we hadn’t been strong and determined to adapt, we would have perished with the weak. And the weak must perish; otherwise the integrity of the race is compromised and we become the preyed-upon. Poor misguided Tolan. He was a good man but he was a gardener, and the worst thing he had ever had to do was kill weeds.

The patented Garak move of ‘oh this thing genuinely moved me? No it didn’t. And also I hate it’. (“I hate this place and I hate you”)

- “Your necropolis has become the subject of much conversation throughout the sector,” he replied. “Or is it a memorial to your former mentor?”

“It’s whatever people want it to be. It seems to give comfort to some. For me it meant bringing some order out of this chaos.”

In his deepest heart he remains the cemetery keeper’s son and I for one think that’s beautiful. Fic idea: what about necromancer garak au I think that could be fun

“You’ve heard of the movement afoot to bring in Federation methods for determining our new leadership structure?”

“No, I haven’t,” I replied without hesitating. I prayed that Parmak wouldn’t make one of his unannounced nocturnal visits.

*Gentle cackle* cue Parmak in his underwear trying desperately to be quiet as he climbs out the window in the background

I understand you’re working with a Dr. Parmak who’s very much involved with Ghemor.”

“I was assigned to his med unit. The situation makes for strange bedfellows,” I added.

“Of course.” I found it interesting, Doctor, that for some reason it would never occur to Madred that I would actually enjoy my relationship with Parmak. I had the feeling that he was making an assumption about me that was perhaps reinforced by my involvement with the Order and Tain.

Well well 👀👀👀(also ‘strange bedfellows’. Yeah we get it garak you’re hilarious fhdska)

It takes a man of incredible equanimity, emotional security and generosity of spirit to get it on with a guy who’s currently writing a 200+ page soul-baring letter to another man like it’s the one hope he sees among the ruins of your homeworld, but you know I think Parmak has what it takes and good for him honestly

Madras seemingly completely forgetting or completely dismissing that Garak is originally from the service class lol yes very well observed. Would not even occur to him to think that anyone not of his class and standing is a real person with agency and intelligence.

- One of my genuine pleasures was to pick someone in the street to follow. Part of it was to satisfy a desire I’ve had since Bamarren to move through places and among people undetected, a desire that increased significantly after seeing Palandine and her daughter. In the intervening years, I’d pick someone who looked like a walker and follow him or her as long as they walked. I’d make sure my presence was minimized and I’d take on the person’s physical carriage and behavior. After a while, once the physical mimicry felt complete, I’d also take on the thoughts and feelings of that person. In this way I not only felt connected to another, but I was divested of my own thoughts and emotions—especially the painful ones.

Y’know I would make fond fun of him for just how sad that is if I thought I had a fucking leg to stand on. As it is, though. I mean. Haven’t we all been there. Please tell me we’ve all been there. It would make me feel better if we’ve all been here. (Interesting furthering and explicit calling out of the Odo parallel too — taking on someone’s shape to try to understand and feel closer to them without it necessarily fulfilling the longing that prompted it)

- Of course, she had spotted me. It was almost as if I had begged her to.

“Elim!” Her voice was winded, exasperated, and amused. She was a magnificent athlete, and her long legs had very quickly caught up with me. I turned.

. . .

“But I suppose the fact that you were also at the Grounds and the Assembly building could be an extraordinary coincidence,” she said with a look that challenged me to come up with an answer. I couldn’t. I felt exposed and ashamed.

“I’m … sorry. I tried to be discreet.” There was no point in pursuing the deception.

“Elim, you forget—I studied with the same teachers. Old habits die hard,” she added with a self-deprecating laugh.

“I was not going to do it again,” I assured her.

“Let’s walk,” she suggested, noticing a couple coming out of a building.

. . .

“It reminds me of the enclosure at Bamarren,” I said. She laughed, and the old delight momentarily flashed.

“Yes! That’s why I love it here.” But her expression changed and she gave me a look that creased the lines in her face. “We treated you so terribly.”

“Please….” I started to say.

“We did, Elim. You know that. We believed… or at least I believed….” she stopped herself with a bitter laugh. I didn’t ask her what it was she had believed.

“That’s finished now,” I said.

“Is it?” she asked with a wry smile. “Well, that’s good news.”

“We were children, Palandine.”

“Yes, we were. Aspiring to be grownups.” She gave me that creased look again. “You were the grownup, Elim. We were only pretending.”

“Please…” I tried to stop her again.

“No! I lost you as a friend. I think you understand this … unless I’m very much mistaken.”

In acknowledging she did something awful to him and that she regrets hurting him for what turned out to be not even very good reasons, she has shown more care for him than basically every other person in his life but Tolan up until this point. The bar here is so low but at least she stepped over it when everyone else got busy trying to limbo dance that shit, it’s y’know something

“At first I didn’t know what to do. There you were, sitting like your regnar among those magnificent orchids. It unnerved me at the beginning, but after a while I looked forward to your being there … watching us.” As we held each other’s look I didn’t try to hide my conflicted feelings.

“Why did you decide to follow me today?” she asked. I struggled to find an answer. She nodded as if confirming something to herself. “Tell me, would you have ever… declared yourself to me if I hadn’t?”

“No,” I replied. She nodded again, this time with a sad acceptance. “You keep your own counsel now, don’t you? This must be very dangerous for you.”

“For us both. I’m sure I don’t have to remind you,” I added.

“No,” she smiled.

What a fucking… shoujo-ass bullshit thing to happen fhkdshfsa palandine looking at him sitting there among the orchids in his fancy lil clothes with his sad boy lil face and the wind was probably gently caressing his hair too. Of course he was irresistible to her at this point he’s basically a teenage girl’s secret heart’s perfect fantasy for a woman who’s been forced to grow calloused and resigned to the actual nightmare married life she is living

“Where do you work?”

“At the Hall of Records.”

“Doing what?” she asked.

“I’m a research analyst,” I answered.

“What kind of research do you analyze?” She was not going to be put off with vague answers.

“I’m a bureaucrat, Palandine. I no longer try to make my work sound interesting. The best part is that I travel a great deal to gather data on population shifts—births, deaths. Most of my work is statistical analysis—making sure the facts match the reports we receive.” I delivered this with appropriate flatness.

“Do you like it?” she asked.

“I like the travel,” I answered. Her face was now a grimace.

I’m just a little research analyst/tailor/gardener ma’am…

I could see that she was upset by what she perceived as my fall from grace. Promising young man forced by circumstances to live the life of a lonely functionary.

R U sure that’s what she’s thinking Garak. R U really underestimating her again so soon. Also she’s trying so hard to flirt with you, Julian’s obliviousness is revenge for this

“Do you still hate him?” she asked.

“Hate’s a strong word.”

“But we’re all capable of feeling it, Elim. How do you feel about me?” she asked with a direct simplicity that went through my body like electric shock. The churning I experienced earlier at the Tarlak Grounds returned. I was afraid to answer. She nodded again with resignation. This time she had completely misread my thoughts. I realized that she not only expected my hate, but accepted it. She stood up and seemed smaller.

“This wasn’t such a good idea after all, was it?” And when had she ended so many of her sentences with a question?

“What happened to you?” I asked sincerely. “You were the most confident person I’d ever known. Even when you made the decision at Bamarren there was no doubt—no apology.” Her eyes suddenly fractured and tears filled the cracks. “Do you think I followed you because I hate you?”

She couldn’t answer. She just stood there shivering. I moved to her to hold her, and she didn’t resist. She didn’t move. She let me put my arms around her and draw her vibrating body to mine. The touch, the feel of her against my body was something I had never expected to experience outside my imagination. For the first time since Bamarren, I wanted to expand my presence, to feel everything that was coming through this moment and joining us. Inexplicably, I had a sudden vision of the Guide, the woman from the meeting.

“This is our secret, Elim,” Palandine whispered.

“Yes,” I answered. “Our secret.” Another one. But it didn’t feel like it would poison me.

‘And when had she ended so many of her sentences with a question’. Oh Palandine :’(

The fact that he can try to deny his own needs for decades and then break completely the moment someone he loves needs something from him. Yeah that’s probably the big weak spot for him huh. I guess Tain was mostly gambling that his needs would always get first priority in the end

Also: Palandine saying everyone is capable of hate, and Tain claiming later on that he doesn’t hate anyone even as he’s throwing a party that Merrok is dead. Very Interesting.

Garak apparently writes poetry about Palandine during this time, btw. *through tears* he’s such a SAP.

This pattern he has of interpersonally of a sort of… hide and seek, ‘Please come find me, please track me down, I’m leaving you a trail of breadcrumbs and truth-telling lies and hope and I’ll make it so easy for you to connect the dots it’s kind of pathetic on my part but who needs dignity anyway’… it’s so clumsy and child-like and full of both longing and fear. He’s TRYING but he doesn’t know any better way to do it yet. And especially with Julian, that’s where part of the misunderstanding/misalignment between them comes in, I feel, when the uh ‘signals to play’ as it were start to get muddled. ‘He doesn’t really tell me what he’s thinking’. And then he goes and writes a whole book to Julian to let him in on exactly what he’s thinking fjdsjfak truly, a man who does not do anything by halves

Somehow it also seems kind of healing that the potential for being found without anything having to be kept secret is finally, finally on the table, if (when, I know this in my heart literally what does canon even know if it disagrees it is quite simply wrong) Julian takes him up on the invitation.

#a stitch in time #asit #elim garak #star trek #star trek ds9 #ds9 #The great ASIT first read adventure #ds9 meta #garashir #julian bashir

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