This part is also known as: Morgyn tries very hard not to thump their head against a wall because this is not their usual mode of thought.

And this AU finally has a name! (Name is subject to change, because I’m not entirely sure I’m happy with it, but it’s better than a lack of title at the moment.)

Fandom: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
AU: NOS
Word Count: 956 (8719)

Characters: Elim Garak, Nadya Gennel

Warnings: Choose Not to Warn

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | more to come

Garak and Nadya have two conversations at the same time.

Garak looks up when the door to his shop opens, a genial and utterly insincere smile on his face out of habit even before he sees the person stepping inside. “Gul Gennel, what brings you to my shop?”

“I heard there was a Cardassian tailor on the station.” Gennel glances at him a moment before she turns to the displayed dresses, ostensibly looking them over. “I had wondered what you had done with yourself, Garak, since you’d gotten yourself exiled.”

“It’s not entirely horrible.” The lie is easy and bitter in his mouth, though Garak refuses to admit just how much he wants to go home. Gennel doesn’t have the means to defy Tain and the Order over his exile, even if she can clearly exert enough influence to bring her own son home.

Gennel lets out a brief chuckle, glancing at him again with amusement brightening her eyes. “Except for the cold, the bright light, and the lack of suitable conversation partners.”

Garak tilts his head in acknowledgement, carefully hiding his curiosity, for all that he wants to know the answer to his original question. Watching as Gennel inspects each dress and suit.

“If you’re searching for new clothes, I’m sure there are tailors back on Cardassia who are more familiar with the current fashions.”

“If I were looking for current fashions, it would be best to wait.” Gennel fingers the material on another dress. “Fashions change all the time. I prefer something that lasts longer than fashion.”

Intriguing, and perhaps to be expected. Someone who lasts as long as they do in the Obsidian Order has to be able to change with the whims of the head of the Order and of the leaders of Central Command.

“What did you have in mind? Not something too risque, I hope.”

“Would I be wearing this if I sought something entirely out of style?” Gennel moves to the next stand, and the suit on it. “Something a little more daring than traditional, perhaps, but I’ve been known to be eccentric from time to time.”

Garak narrows his eyes slightly, watching Gennel for a moment. “Perhaps something with a small human influence?”

“Now, let’s not be too brash.” Gennel turns from the mannequins, coming over to his table, studying the dress he has laid out on it. “Perhaps something with a tiny bit of Bajoran in the decoration. A token nod, nothing more.”

“Did you have a particular sort of Bajoran influence in mind? They have several distinct styles, I wouldn’t want to chose the wrong one.”

“I hear the styles out of the Dakhur province are sufficiently subtle not to offend, at least not now. A very contemporary style from them, nothing too old.” Gennel pauses, reaching out to finger the dress on the table. “Perhaps some fabric from there, if the styles are still a little too radical.”

“They do produce some very sturdy fabrics in Dakhur province. Perhaps why their fashions tend to remain more radical than most are comfortable with.” Garak carefully begins to fold the dress to set it aside. “I think perhaps one of their warmer fabrics. Something with a bit of red?”

“Perhaps. I’m hoping that they have something a little more gray, perhaps something that tends toward black. I don’t look my best in reds.” Gennel rests her hands on the edge of the table, watching him. “If there is nothing available save in red, then by all means. I can always wear it at home.”

Garak tilts his head, his smile this time more genuine than the one he’d given Gennel when she came in. This should be an interesting project, and perhaps one that will give him a chance to get home, should nothing go wrong.

“When did you want it finished?”

“I thought perhaps in time for my retirement.” Gennel gives him a small smile. “Plenty of time to finish it, I should hope.”

“So long as I am not making it for your funeral.” It will take quite a while for the project to be finished, if it can be done at all, but it’s an interesting challenge.

“If I wanted a funeral, I’d keep the uniform and the rank that goes with it. I don’t think it suits me, though. Too constricting.” Gennel shakes her head slightly. “I don’t intend to die before I retire.”

“No one ever does.” Garak moves the folded dress under the table, bringing out a padd with his other project on it, leaving it where Gennel can see it. “Did you want anything else made?”

“Perhaps. You made a fine suit for my son once. He could use a new one, and red suits him far better than I.” Gennel lets her gaze drift to the padd he’d left out. “You’ll have to ask him what sort of cut he’s looking for. I’ll make sure you have suitable codes to reach him.”

“Of course.” Garak smiles once more. “I am flattered by your business, and that of your son.”

Gennel chuckles, glancing at the table a moment. “You do good work, Garak. It’s a pity it was unappreciated at home.” She pauses, turning the padd with the entry Sisko wanted translated toward her. “A copy of a new book?”

“Unfortunately. Commander Sisko was unwilling to part with the original. Do you know the author?”

“I might. I wouldn’t trust the Commander’s copy to be the original. The author is not in the habit of letting them out of his possession.”

Gennel pushes the padd back to Garak, nodding a wordless farewell before she turns on her heel to leave.

Garak keeps silent until the door shuts behind her, amusement bubbling up in his chest. “This should be very entertaining.”