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A year ago, it had seemed like the weather was mocking them on days like these. Parmak was still not quite used to it, but on days when the sun came out, the Union Capital looked less like the odd combination of building site, refugee camp and bombed-out ruins that it was. At least the ratio was rapidly shifting. Much of the debris had finally been cleared and proper reconstruction was underway. Most people were still living in makeshift shelters, but there was access to clean water and rations. The hospital – a generous name for the collection of barracks that housed the medical staff in this sector – was no longer overrun with cases of parasitic infections and dysentery. Cardassia would never be the same, but today, Parmak could glimpse the future.
He had spent the morning washing his clothes. Washing machines were still uncommon. They had one in the hospital, where scrubbing by hand was not an option, and the nurses had offered to do his laundry for him, but Parmak had found he did not mind washing the old-fashioned way. He had a tin basin and a wash-board, and had found a discarded metal crate that was the right height to sit on. He had taken off his tunic and worked wearing only his trousers and a vest, enjoying the feeling of the sun against his skin. Now, the scales on his hands felt sore, but it still felt far better than the skin did after a day of scrubbing with harsh antiseptic soap. Bedsheets and clothes hung from the washing-lines that ran between Parmak’s small barrack and his neighbours’. They moved in the soft wind, cooling down the air around them. Parmak leaned his head back, enjoying the mixed sensation of sunlight and breeze against the exposed skin. As a result, he did not notice the shadow moving behind the sheets.
‘Hello, Doctor.’
He jerked out of his thoughts. Garak stood right in front of him, like he had appeared out of thin air. Parmak sprung up, found the tunic he had put aside and pulled it on. He tugged at the neckline, making sure his chula was covered.
‘I’m sorry to come by unannounced,’ Garak said. In this weather, his scales were a few shades darker than Parmak was used to seeing them. He was embarrassed how much the sight affected him.
Pulling himself together, he smiled and said:
‘Well, you had no way of calling ahead.’ He looked around, trying to figure out what the rules of hospitality would have him do. ‘Let me get you a chair…’ He turned to the open door, but Garak stopped him with a gesture.
‘No, let me.’
Garak went into the barrack. When he was out of sight, Parmak picked up the scarf he had left on the ground in case the dust got too bad. He draped it around his shoulders, covering up his neck-ridges a little more. When Garak returned with the chair, he tried to not look as embarrassed as he felt, caught almost bare-chested out of doors. Besides, his neck-scales tended to flush blueish much easier than most’s. He did not want that to betray him.
If Garak noticed that he had covered up more, he did not make it known. He simply smiled at his host, put the chair down and offered to him. When Parmak shook his head and sat on the crate instead, he took the chair.
They sat in silence for a while. Parmak glanced up at him periodically. Had he come to have the conversation they both knew they needed to have sometime soon? Their relationship was still vague and undefined. It was not even that they did not speak. They did, about all manner of things, but they had not yet factored in the fact that several times now, they had spent the night together. It was one thing, talking about the labour camp and the resistance and the Obsidian Order, and quite another to acknowledge that this was not just sex. Parmak was certain about that – he thought he saw his own emotions mirrored in Garak. Even that scared him.
Garak spoke.
‘I had word from one of my Federation contacts today.’
‘Oh?’
‘I took the liberty of mentioning the shortage of central venous catheters you told me about,’ he said. ‘He promised that there will be four-hundred included in the next shipment of medical supplies.’
Parmak’s eyes grew.
‘That’s wonderful news!’ he exclaimed.
‘And he said he’d put it on the list of priority supplies.’
Parmak laughed in surprise. Garak smiled, but looked a little confused by this outpouring of emotion.
‘I’m happy you’re pleased.’
‘Pleased?’ Parmak repeated and laughed again. He felt ready to cry. ‘I’m beyond pleased!’
Garak chuckled.
‘Then perhaps this will be a let-down, instead of a pleasant surprise.’ He took something out of his pocket. ‘My friend also sent me these. It only felt right to share them.’
He placed it in Parmak’s hand. It was a box made from sturdy paper, small enough to fit in his palm. Parmak looked up, meeting Garak’s eye. Garak smiled and gestured to him to open it. He lifted the lid. Inside the box were nine plump squares of Delavian chocolate.
Parmak looked at Garak again, stunned.
‘I can’t accept this,’ he said. ‘They were for you.’
‘So they are mine to do with as I please,’ Garak said. ‘And to be frank, I think Julian expected me to share them. Now, have one.’
Carefully, he picked up one of the chocolates between his claws. The blank surface caught the light, making the dark chocolate look almost golden. Fearing he might drop it if he held onto it too long, he put it in his mouth.
Since the Fire, the only sweet Parmak had eaten were the occasional Federation candy bar, distributed to give some semblance of normalcy. Most of the time, he would give his away. When he ate it himself, the toffee got stuck in his dentures and took days to get rid of. Even before the disaster, he had not had Delavian chocolate for years. He closed his eyes and let the chocolate melt on his tongue. The taste was rich and bitter. When he swallowed, it stayed in his mouth. Tears rose in his eyes.
‘Doctor, what’s wrong?’ Garak asked. ‘Kelas?’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, trying to swallow the tears. ‘I’m just… happy.’
Garak smiled, then reached up and wiped his eyes.
‘Not you too,’ Parmak said.
He laughed.
‘It must be contagious.’
Before thinking it over, Parmak leaned closer and kissed him. The kiss lasted longer than he would usually dare outside, but the laundry gave some semblance of privacy. Still, they could not count on it, and Parmak pulled away. Garak looked straight at him, a small smile on his lips.
‘I’ll remember this in the future,’ he said. ‘For hatch-days and such. Medical supplies and chocolate are apparently the perfect gift.’
Parmak laughed.
‘Thank you,’ he said, meaning it. He had almost forgotten that he was still holding the open box of chocolates. He looked at them, then at Garak. ‘I don’t have to be at the hospital until the evening. If you’re not busy, I could make some tea.’
Garak nodded.
‘I would like that.’
Parmak handed him the chocolates and went to fetch the kettle and the portable stove. As he entered the barrack, he looked over his shoulder. Garak was studying the chocolates, trying to decide which one to have. Parmak smiled to himself. He took off the scarf that he had draped over his neck-ridges and left it over a chair.