Chapter Text
Quark ran. With the speed of a capitalist protecting his assets in the wake of a disintegrating economy, he ran straight to the one person on the station his instincts told him could protect him.
"Quark!" One of the Bajoran nurses rushed to his side, medical tricorder deployed and whirring. It beeped alarmingly as it came into range, right in his ear, making him jump and almost certainly taking another year off of his life. "What happened?"
It took Quark several tries to catch his breath enough to speak. "Doctor Bashir...I need...to see...Doctor Bashir," he panted as the nurse helped him to a bio-bed, upon which he promptly collapsed.
The nurse tapped her comm badge. "Doctor, I think you'd better get out here."
Quark lay stiff as a starchworm on the table, ears attuned for anything and body ready to take flight again at the slightest hint of danger. He didn't allow himself to relax even a little until he heard the whoosh of the doctor's office door followed by Bashir and the nurse's murmured discussion at his bedside.
Surely he was safe from Garak here. Surely Garak wouldn't do him harm right in front of his do-gooder Federation boyfriend.
"You're showing extremely high levels of pelotamine, Quark, and your clorvisol is through the roof," said Doctor Bashir, who'd assumed the scanning after the nurse had left. "What happened?"
"Your boyfriend happened, Doctor!"
Bashir's eyes widened. "I'm sorry?" There was a mechanical hum as the doctor activated the sonic privacy screen around the bio-bed. "He's not...I mean, what do you mean 'my boyfriend happened'? What did you say to him?"
"What did I say to him? Doctor, Garak threatened me! I'm the victim here!”
The doctor looked chastened. But not at all surprised. "Of course you're the victim, Quark. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I only need to look at your homsilian levels to see that you're terrified." He looked concerned. "What did Garak say to you?"
"He said..." Quark stopped. What had Garak said? "I mean, he implied..."
"Yes?" Bashir had stopped scanning and was waiting patiently, 'good Federation doctor' plastered all over his face.
"Well, he didn't exactly say anything." Quark was beginning to feel foolish.
"Oh. Did he use a weapon?”
“Well, no, not really.” Garak’s eyes should be registered as weapons, in Quark’s opinion, but Quark doubted Bashir would agree.
“Then how...?”
“Well, actually, Doctor,” Quark began, then hesitated. He really was going to look like a loser who'd gone bankrupt on a latinum well, wasn’t he? But he had to say something. There was no telling what Garak might do if Doctor Bashir didn't have a word with him about not killing the neighbours. And anyway, as per Rule of Acquisition Number 182, it was better to open your mouth and be thought a fool than to keep your mouth closed and lose your latinum. or your life Quark added, hoping that if Gint was looking down on him from the Divine Treasury, he would forgive the presumption.
"Yes?"
Quark cleared his throat. “Well, he just kind of...looked at me.”
Bashir’s brow furrowed. He put the medical scanner in his pocket. “‘Looked at you’?”
It was all or nothing. “Yes, ‘looked at me’. And it was terrifying. After I tried to help him, too! I hope you know what kind of person you’re dating, Doctor.”
Bashir sighed. The scanner re-emerged from his pocket and he recommenced the whirring. “Your homsilian levels are stabilising. Loosen your collar, lie back, and take a few deep breaths.”
Quark did not loosen his collar, lie back, and take a few deep breaths. He sat up and grabbed Bashir by the arm. “You have to believe me! I'm serious! You need to talk to Garak and tell him not to hurt me. You aren’t going to send me back out there, are you?”
“No, I am not," said the doctor, gently removing his arm from Quark’s grasp and peering at the readings on his tricorder. "I’m going to make sure you’re stable, and then while you're resting I am going to call Garak from my office and discuss the matter with him. Unless you’d rather I asked him into the Infirmary directly?”
Quark’s chest tightened and the medical instruments started beeping like distressed bank alarms. “No, Doctor, that won't be necessary." He loosened his collar and lay back.
"Good. Now, deep breaths. In...out. In...out."
The instruments soon stopped their clamouring and after a few more breaths Bashir, satisfied, flipped the tricorder closed. “How do you feel?”
By the Great Material Continuum, that was an unfair question! “Frightened and confused,” Quark said pointedly. He did in fact feel a little better physically, what with the deep breaths, but that was beside the point.
"Okay, Quark, okay. Stay here. I won't be a minute," said Bashir. He gestured to his office, not three metres from Quark's bio-bed. "I'll reduce the opacity of my office window so we can see each other while I call Garak. Will that make you feel safer?"
"Well, maybe a little. But don't let him see me!"
"Of course not," said the doctor. He patted Quark on the arm in a way Quark guessed was supposed to be reassuring to hew-mons and went into his office. Within moments Bashir was waving at him through the now-transparent window. Feebly, Quark lifted his hand and wiggled his fingers in reply.
Bashir nodded and turned his attention, presumably, to a comm screen just below the window, outside Quark's line of vision.
"Bashir to Garak," he said.
Quark smiled to himself. The Federation were so arrogant. They claimed to be adaptive to any and all differences between species, but they still hadn't realised that standard Federation sound-dampening protocols were nothing to Ferengi ears. Rule of Acquisition Number 39: 'Flaws are beautiful. Exploit them.’
The doctor's hail was soon answered, but all Quark could hear from Garak was a soft buzz that rose and fell in more or less the cadence of his voice. Unfortunately, but unsurprisingly, Garak seemed to have superior privacy technology.
“Elim," said Bashir, “I have an extremely agitated Ferengi here in the Infirmary. Have you got anything to say about this?”
“...?”
“No, it’s Quark, and you know it.”
“...”
"He's terrified. What did you do to him?"
"..."
“Oh really? Because he’s saying you threatened him.”
“...!”
“Uh huh.” Bashir crossed his arms and looked sceptical. “So he’s practically passing out from fear because you insulted his suit? Look, Elim. You promised you’d let me take care of this."
"..."
"It doesn't matter that you didn't lay a hand on him! There are many ways to cause trauma. As you well know.” The doctor really did look angry. Maybe...this would be the beginning of the inevitable end of the relationship? Shooting surpluses, that would be wonderful! If there was no relationship, then the pool would almost certainly be saved! And the sooner the better! Quark perked up, and pushed himself up on his elbows to better observe the spectacle.
“...”
"Elim, don't try to distract me from the issue."
"..."
“No, it’s on. Why?” The anger was draining from the doctor's voice, and he looked confused more than anything.
“...”
“Are you...” Bashir abruptly shifted his gaze up through the window and locked eyes with Quark, who froze like a lobeling caught sucking grub tubes. After a moment to get his pulse back under control, he grinned weakly at the doctor and flopped back on the bed, screwing his eyes up tight as tax code.
“You might be right, Elim." There was a series of beeps, and the soft buzz of a far superior privacy screen emanated from the office, followed by...nothing. It was like the hush of the Ferenginar City stock exchange after the closing bell. Not a peep, not even the drone of muffled voices.
Quark opened his eyes a crack, just enough to be sure that Doctor Bashir had not in fact terminated his conversation with Garak. But no, there he was, eyes again fixed on the screen out of Quark's sight. And was he — yes, he was laughing! No doubt at something Garak had said! Probably something Garak had said about Quark. It was shocking. Sickening, really! No doctor should laugh when presented with a patient in a condition as critical as Quark's, and with the person who had caused Quark's deplorable state! It didn't matter that Garak was the doctor's boyfriend. It was unprofessional, that's what it was. Sure as snotworms no Ferengi doctor would act like that — they knew where their latinum came from. That's what came of eliminating money from a society. Doctors treating their patients like jokes. And what was worse, if the doctor and Garak were laughing together like a pair of howler beasts, it did not bode well for their impending breakup.
Quark steamed, like a hot Ferenginar afternoon. The doctor was lucky Quark needed to stay in his good books, or he'd be abiding by Rule of Acquisition Number 191: A complaint to the manager can yield untold satisfaction.
He was composing a message to Sisko in his head just in case when Bashir's manner abruptly changed.
The doctor's eyebrows shot straight up like fuzzy jumpworms, a sign, Quark recognised from his years with hew-mons, Bajorans, and other hairy-browed species, that he was surprised. His arms crossed again, and the shocked expression was replaced with a glowering brow. It was the protective look that Quark recognised from only this morning, when the doctor had accused Quark of harassing Garak. But this time the Doctor was protective of Quark! It must be! Good. And after all, a Federation doctor should be furious with the man who'd threatened his patient's life.
Quark barely managed to suppress a gleeful grin as the doctor marched from his office, a stormy expression on his face.
“There, you see, Doctor? He admitted it, didn’t he? I can tell by your face. And he had no reason to threaten me! I told him I wouldn’t be bothering either of you again!” Garak certainly did know how to hold a grudge, but Quark chose not to say it outright.
Bashir frowned. “Quark. What did you say to Rom?”
Eh? What did Rom have to do with the price of ale on Andorra? ”I told him not to bother Garak, Doctor. Several times.”
“No, Quark. After that.”
Quark hesitated. Had he said anything else to Rom that the Doctor would be concerned about? Oh, yes, of course. “If you mean the suit for my mother, yes I forbade my brother from bringing it to her, but I already told Garak that Rom would pay him for it. He has no reason to be mad at me! He’ll get his money!” Was Garak that upset about the suit? These artists. You never knew what would offend them.
“You forbade your brother from bringing your mother a suit?” A look of...well, Quark wasn’t sure, but he supposed it was a kind of disbelief, crossed Bashir’s face. His mouth gaped open like a shocked sipcarp. “Quark, that’s...never mind. Is that why you cancelled Rom’s holiday?”
Wait, Garak had told the doctor about that and not the suit? Why would Garak care about Rom’s stupid vacation?
“No, Doctor,” he replied, deciding the whole truth wasn’t completely necessary (it had been fortunate that Rom would now have no way of bringing a suit to Moogie, but that hadn’t been the reason for cancelling). “I did it to save money! Maybe you Federation folk don’t realise it, but for most of us, a nice vacation doesn’t come cheap!”
Bashir now look thoroughly puzzled. Wasn’t it always the way when Federation citizens tried to wrap their little pinheads around money?
“But, then why did you offer to pay for his holiday in the first place?”
Oh. Garak really had gone into detail, hadn’t he? Why? Garak liked to talk, but it seemed an odd detail. Unless... Ah, that was it! Of course! Quark just had to explain himself.
“Well, Doctor, I was sending him away for Garak’s benefit, actually. And yours. I was under the impression that you didn’t want Rom to know all about your private business, and it was the best way to prevent him from finding out. I didn’t know Garak was going to just tell him all about you two! So when I realised he had, I cancelled Rom’s vacation.” Quark snapped his fingers. “Simple as that. And I promise Rom won’t bother either of you any more.”
Instead of replying, Bashir took out his tricorder and scanned Quark again. His face was truly inscrutable. He looked even angrier than before, but why on the eighteen moons of avarice would he? Typical, really. Just when Quark felt he was starting to understand hew-mons, one of them would react completely irrationally to something innocuous. Quark opened his mouth, but then decided it was better to just let the doctor scan.
“I’m discharging you, Quark.” Bashir’s voice was clipped.
“What? But I came to you for help, Doctor.” Quark could feel his pulse quickening, and the machines obviously could too, because they started their shrill beeping again. “And I’m still sick!”
“This is clearly a psychological issue, so I’m referring you to Counsellor Telnorri.” Bashir’s hands flew across his PADD. “You’re booked for your first session tomorrow at 1500 hours. And," he tapped the PADD decisively, "as of now you are no longer my patient.”
“Doctor! What about Garak? Are you forgetting that he threatened me?” There was no way Quark was going out there without some kind of resolution. Was it possible to claim asylum in an infirmary?
“And since you are no longer my patient,” Bashir continued, as if Quark’s words had been as unintelligible as a female trying to sound like she knew something about finance, “I can tell you that what you did to Rom was truly abhorrent. And Garak agrees. I can’t control what he does, Quark.”
“But Doctor, he’s your boyfriend, and...”
“Shut UP, Quark. He’s not...even if he were my boyfriend, I wouldn’t control him like you apparently think you can with your loved ones. I’d say the only way you can guarantee you’ll come to no harm at Garak’s hands is to go find your brother and hope to hell there’s still a berth for him on that shuttle to Ferenginar. A nice berth, Quark.”
“But Doctor, this is family business! You have no right to interfere!”
Bashir shrugged. “I’m not interfering, Quark. I’m giving you advice. Non-medical, of course. Now, please vacate the infirmary as soon as possible. We need your bed for patients.” He narrowed his eyes. Quark hadn’t known the doctor could narrow his eyes. “NOW, Quark. And I’d suggest you run.”
Quark ran.