Chapter Text
Garak knew he shouldn’t have allowed this. He shouldn’t have trusted strange drinks, he shouldn’t have gone so willingly to the infirmary and let them take his DNA, and he most definitely shouldn’t have allowed Dr. Bashir to hold him, vulnerable and small as he was. He was entirely at the doctor’s mercy, and he should have been scared. He should have been scrambling out of Dr. Bashir’s grasp as fast as possible, trying to hold onto any last shreds of self-preservation he could muster.
But Garak didn’t do any of that, because he wasn’t scared. Nervous, yes. Certainly a bit confused as to why the doctor was showing him such care. But he knew that Dr. Bashir wasn’t going to harm him (at least not intentionally).
Not to mention the fact that Garak didn’t want to run, or hide, or wriggle out of Dr. Bashir’s hands. They were so warm. To Garak, the sensation was rather like those precious few minutes after waking up but before getting out from under the blanket – comfortable enough that he didn’t want to leave just yet. The steady rhythm of Dr. Bashir’s fingers running over his back, the quiet whir of machinery, and the heat from the contraption placed near the bed could have lulled Garak right to sleep, if he let them. And it had been a long time since he had been touched this way – gently, with something that could almost be mistaken for affection.
It had to be a side effect of being trapped as an animal, he decided. Animals couldn’t hide their natures; they were beholden to their biology. That was why he had allowed the doctor to hold him – reptiles naturally sought out warmth, and what animal didn’t instinctively search for the safest place in its environment? That was certainly what he would say if the doctor asked him about this afterwards.
Garak’s reverie was rudely interrupted by a shrill beeping noise. He felt Dr. Bashir suddenly tense beneath him, seemingly also startled.
“Looks like the antidote is ready,” he said, carefully maneuvering Garak so he could climb off his arm and onto the bed. Dr. Bashir stood up, walking over to the medical machinery, and Garak immediately resumed the curled-up position he’d been in before, trying to conserve every last bit of heat.
When the doctor returned, it was with a vial of clear liquid and a set of clothes, which he placed on the edge of the bed. “All you have to do is drink this,” he explained, “and you should be back to normal.”
Garak hissed once in acknowledgement.
“Do you…” Dr. Bashir began, slightly awkward. “Do you want privacy?”
That had been rather thoughtful of him. One quick hiss.
The doctor retrieved a small dish, poured the liquid from the vial into it, and set it down next to Garak. “I’ll just be in the next room, alright?” he said with a small smile.
After he left, Garak gave the clear liquid an experimental sniff, but it didn’t have any particular odor; it looked for all the world like plain water. Still, he hardly had much choice in whether or not to consume it, unless he wanted to stay in this form. His long, thin tongue flicked in and out of the dish as he drank.
*****
The transformation was quick, much as the first one had been. Garak quickly regained his bearings and allowed himself a sigh of relief before getting dressed. His limbs felt large and ungainly after the time spent with a regnar’s short legs. He walked slowly across the room and back, then stretched his arms over his head.
He was just about to leave the room when he heard a light tap on the door.
“Garak?” asked Dr. Bashir. “Did it work?”
“Perfectly, doctor. Thank you,” Garak said.
“May I come in?”
Garak quickly glanced down at himself, making sure he was presentable. “Of course,” he said.
When Dr. Bashir saw Garak, he gave him a bright smile, quickly walking over to him. He had his arms raised slightly, as if for an embrace, but aborted the movement and tried to pass it off as a gesture of surprise. “I’m glad you’re back,” he said. “Are you feeling alright?”
“Yes. All thanks to you,” Garak said, imbuing the words with all the sincerity he could. Without the doctor, he would probably still be hiding somewhere small and dark, with no way of knowing when or if the transformation could be reversed.
“Don’t go thanking me just yet, we’ve still got some tests to run,” said Dr. Bashir with a slight laugh. “It should only take a few minutes.”
Garak bit back a rejoinder about feeling like a science experiment and nodded. “Alright, then.”
The doctor ran through the basic checks with practiced speed, asking Garak to breathe in and out and shining a light into his eyes. Garak’s breath caught when Dr. Bashir placed his fingers on Garak’s neck to check his pulse. He should have been thinking about how close to the vulnerabilities of his throat and neck ridges the doctor was, but instead… he was overcome by the reminder of how nice that same light touch had felt earlier, and how much he already missed it.
“Garak, are you alright?” Dr. Bashir asked, concerned.
“Perfectly,” he said, keeping his tone as neutral as possible to avoid having to say any of that aloud. Dr. Bashir gave him a disbelieving look, but said nothing.
“Well, everything looks back to normal,” he declared. “But to be really thorough… would you mind giving another DNA sample?”
“A DNA sample?” Garak repeated.
“Well, you see, we were only able to determine that you were a regnar because your DNA had actually changed,” Dr. Bashir explained quickly. “So this would just be to make sure all of those changes were actually reversed and that there are no accidental mutations left over somehow.”
Garak thought for a moment. “Just for comparison purposes?”
The doctor nodded. “The record of it will be secure, since it’s medical information,” he said.
“Very well,” said Garak. After all, he could always delete the information later – hacking into the Federation’s records was time-consuming but not impossible.
Dr. Bashir gave Garak another swab, but thankfully, Garak was able to take the sample this time rather than the doctor having to do it. Dr. Bashir went to place it in the requisite machine, and Garak sat on the edge of the bed, waiting patiently.
“Shouldn’t be too long,” said the doctor when he returned. He stopped for a moment, looking from Garak to the space beside him.
“Please,” said Garak, gesturing to the empty spot on the bed. Dr. Bashir gave him a small smile and sat down. Their arms brushed lightly, but they were still a respectful distance apart. Garak tried to quash his disappointment.
It made sense, Garak supposed, that the doctor had only wanted to comfort him while he was in a compromised state, that he’d see no reason to repeat those earlier actions now that Garak was himself again. Still, even that much was something he wouldn’t have expected – it had hardly been medically necessary.
“Garak?” Dr. Bashir asked quietly.
“Yes?”
“I just wanted to say-” he began, sounding unsure. “Thank you, I guess. For trusting me. This must have been terribly frightening for you, and…” he trailed off.
“Doctor, I should be the one thanking you,” Garak said. For helping. For making it bearable. For caring at all, he thought. “For everything you did, even when I was… compromised.”
“Of course,” Dr. Bashir said immediately. “Anything that could help you deal with being an entirely different species, after all.”
Garak smiled. “You were an excellent heat source.”
That startled a laugh out of Dr. Bashir. “Glad I could be of some use, then.”
Garak nodded. “Cardassia is a desert planet, you know.”
The doctor blinked. “Yes?”
“Especially compared to the Federation’s standard temperature,” Garak continued. “All of Cardassia’s life is accustomed to a very warm environment. I’ve had to make insulating clothing for myself.”
Dr. Bashir looked quite confused, eyebrows furrowed. “I’m, ah, sorry about that? Is there-” he cut himself off, and Garak could see the realization dawning on his face.
“You really never say exactly what you mean, do you?” he asked Garak with a fond smile, placing an arm over Garak’s shoulders.
“I hardly needed to; you understood perfectly,” Garak said, leaning into the touch.