Discussions in a Turbolift
By Agent 7
msagent7@aol.com
http://members.aol.com/msagent7/literary.html
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Garak and Bashir are trapped in a turbolift
Small spoiler to "The Quickening"
Disclaimer:  All rights to Star Trek and their characters are reserved and 
owned by Paramount.
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	"But Garak," complained Bashir.  "It wasn't a mystery.  We 
knew who the murder was in the first sentence."  He shifted his weight 
and waited impatiently for the turbolift.
	The Cardassian sighed and tired his point again.  "The mystery 
to be solved is not necessarily who killed whom.  It may not even be the 
main plot of the story."  The turbolift doors open and the Doctor stepped 
in.  "The mystery might be what is the mystery," Garak added as he 
joined Bashir and the lift started to move upwards.
	"If the mystery is not the plot of the novel, then it's not a 
mystery."  After six years, he still didn't understand Cardassian 
literature and doubted he'd ever will.
	As Garak was about to make a counter opinion, the occupants 
where jolted into the sides of the lift.  Suddenly it came to an erupt stop 
and engulfed in complete darkness.
	Rubbing his sore shoulder, Bashir asked the darkness, "Are 
you all right?"
	Picking himself off the floor, Garak responded, "I'm fine."
	Tapping his comm badge, he tried to reach Ops, but there was 
no answer.  "Bashir to O'Brien."  No response.  "Bashir to anyone who 
can hear me."  No one did.  "Bashir to Computer."  Nothing.
	"Whatever happened must of affected all station systems," 
Garak's voice came from the other end of the lift.  "The emergency 
lights are not even on."
	Bashir detected a tremor in his friends voice, followed by the 
rustling sounds of clothing.  "Garak," he groped blindly for him.  "Are 
you all right?"  This question went beyond the concern for his physical 
being.
	Clearing his throat he answered, "It just happened so suddenly.  
I'll be all right once I can calm down."  His eyes adjusted to the virtual 
darkness and noticed the Doctor trying to approach him.  Bashir's arms 
waved above Garak's head and his legs finally bumped into him.
	"Are you on the floor?" the Doctor knelt down and his hands 
fumbled along the tailor's shoulders.  "You sure you are not hurt?"  
Even blind, Bashir's fingers sought out Garak's rapid pulse.
	He wrapped his arms around him, feeling suddenly cold.  "I'm 
not injured, Doctor."  He hated the sound of fear in his voice, no matter 
how hard he tried to mask it.
	The skillful fingers moved away from his neck and traveled 
along his arms.  "You're cold," he assessed, "You're going into shock."  
In a fury of movement, the Doctor took Garak into his arms and nestled 
his head against his chest.  Abandoning his stubbornness, Garak held 
onto the doctor, seeking out the warmth the human was sharing.  "Just 
try to relax," his voice echoed against Garak's ear.  "You know that you 
are safe and they'll let us out soon."  Hands started to rub his 
back.  "Close you eyes and imagine you are in the biggest room you 
ever seen.  It's huge, with a high ceiling, and vacant."
	The Cardassian obeyed and tried to relax, concentrating on the 
image.  He'd been in a room like that when he was a very small child.  
Then again, everything looks towering when you are half the size of 
everyone else.  It must of been  registration for school and they where 
there very early, before anyone else.  He remembered sitting obediently, 
gazing up at the octagonal room.  A woman was beside him.  He wished 
he could remember weather or not she was his mother.  Oh, how much 
he wanted to recall her.  Anything.  A laugh, a smile, her face, 
something more than an emotionless name on a record.
	Julian's arms tightened their hold when Garak started shaking 
again.  For a few minutes, he was calm, but now the fear was returning.  
"It's okay, Garak," he whispered, barely able to make out his friend's 
hands and face in the darkness.
	Garak only nodded, knowing if he spoke, his voice be choked 
with tears.  Concentrating, he was able to say a few words without 
bawling.  "Talk to me."
	"What about?" Bashir shifted his weight, letting Garak lean 
completely against him.
	"Anything!  Dissertation on micro-viruses, children stories, 
why you keep that toy in your room."
	"Kukalaka,  he's just a teddy bear."
	"Yes, but he has to mean more.  He has some importance to 
you."
	Julian was silent, contemplating on weather or not to explain 
him to Garak.  Telling Ekoria was different, he knew she would 
understand.  But Garak, he would probably just laugh.  Taking in a deep 
breath he said, "He was my first patient."
	"Patient?"
	"You know young children, they get attached to a toy and carry 
it with them where ever they go.  Well, Kukalaka was my favorite.  He 
became battered and threadbare, seams started to come apart, stuffing 
falling out.  My mother wanted to throw him out, but I wouldn't have it.  
At five-years-old I preformed my first surgery.  I stuffed him and sewed 
him shut."  Bashir chuckled to himself, "I don't know how many times I 
had to stitch him back together, but I refused to give up on him.  Maybe 
that's the reason why he is in my room.  I want to make sure my first 
patient is doing well."
	Garak laughed, "Never lose your innocence, Doctor.  Don't let 
me, or Starfleet, or this war take that away from you."
	"But I thought that was a major complaint of yours, Garak.  I 
was too naive."
	"Naive is believing everyone is fundamentally good.  
Innocence is knowing better, but believing it anyway.  You are a very 
special person, it must be from your corrupt human background."
	Bashir laughed, "Well, perhaps I'm a little of both."
	"Do you believe I'm basically 'good'?" countered Garak.
	Without hesitation the Doctor answered, "Yes."
	"Ah!  But you know better.  See?  Your innocent."
	He just shrugged, "I guess I've been called much worse."  A 
lull in the conversation turned the turbolift into an eerie quiet.  Tapping 
his comm badge, Bashir tried to contact Ops again.
	"Something must be seriously wrong if the emergency lights 
are still not on."  The tremor returned to Garak's voice.  "Who knows 
what is going on out there?  And how long we'll be stuck in here."  He 
started fidgeting in Julian's arms.  "If they even know we are in here.  It 
could be days!"  He broke the embrace, and rose to his feet.  "Let us 
out!" he shouted as he started to pace the narrow space. "Let us out!"
	Standing, the Doctor spoke out to his friend.  "Garak, calm 
down.  You're becoming hysterical."
	"Don't you think I know that!"  Garak snapped.  "Don't you 
think I know that there is no real danger?  I don't know what I loath 
more, my fear or the fact I have this fear!  I know the walls will not 
close in.  We will not run out of air. The lift will not plummet into 
darkness.  We will not die in a turbolift.  But I still want out!"  He began 
pounding on the walls of the compartment.  "Let us out!"
	Whispering an apology, Bashir moved in close to his friend's 
turned back and knocked him out.  The Doctor managed to catch him 
before he fell to the floor.

	Garak opened his eyes, then immediately closed them.  A 
glimpse of the turbolift illuminated in glowing orange was enough for 
him.  Slightly, he shifted his weight and realized he had a minor 
headache.  He must of hit his head, or someone hit him.  He could hear 
the steady breathing of his friend above him.  His head was lying on the 
Bashir's knee and a lax hand rested on Garak's shoulder.  He couldn't 
blame Bashir for knocking him out, he would do the same thing. 
Hopefully, he'll be able to keep his hysteria under control.
	"How is your head?" the question came from the still darkness.
	"A dull ache, nothing to concern yourself with."  Garak 
paused, "Did I wake you?"
	"No," answered the strange monotone voice, "I was just 
meditating.  It allows the body to rest but the mind is still alert."
	"How long have I been out?"
	"I'm not sure, about two hours.  The emergency lights came on 
thirty minutes ago."  Bashir chuckled, "I liked the total darkness better.  
Not as eerie."
	With his eyes still clenched shut, Garak agreed.
	"How are you doing?"
	"Trying to stay clam.  Perhaps if I'm lucky, I'll fall back 
asleep."
	"I could always hit you again."
	"Oh, now, my dear Doctor, don't be so eager to volunteer."  
	Silence fell again in the lift.  The longer it lasted the heavier it 
weighed down on him, smothering him.
	"Shh," cooed the Doctor, feeling his friend stiffen and started 
to tremble.  "Try to relax."
	"I can't," he gritted through his teeth, "This is maddening!"
	Bashir's hand traveled up from Garak's shoulder and started to 
rub his neck ridges.  A shiver ran down Garak's spine as he calmed 
under the massage.
	"Is this bothering you?" asked Bashir.  He knew it was a 
tension point in Cardassians, but also an erogenous one.
	"No, this is fine," murmured Garak.
	After several minutes of silence, Bashir felt the stress return to 
Garak, despite his manipulations.  "Why don't you meditate?"
	Garak scoffed, "I've tried several times.  I can't stay quiet that 
long."
	"Then talk," he shifted his weight and continued with the 
massage.  "Tell me about an enjoyable part of your life.  Tell me 
about..." Bashir had to scour his brain for some moment which would 
be.  "Tell me about the first time you fell in love."	
	Garak was unusually quiet.  "I prefer not to tell that story.  It 
was not a pleasant experience."  A pause past between them.  "Why 
don't you tell me about yours?"
	Blushing, Bashir stared at the side of the turbolift.  "Her name 
was Cindy Langton," he started quietly.  "I was probably eight when I 
became infatuated with her.  She had the brightest red hair, always in 
pigtails, and had a million freckles across her nose.  I never saw anyone 
with freckles before."
	"Perhaps your interest in Dax is actually a manifestation of you 
desiring your boyhood sweetheart," Garak teased.	
	"If we are going to psychoanalyze anyone, it'll be you."  Bashir 
continued his recollection, "She was sharp too.  Of course, now looking 
back on it she was only of average intelligence.  But to me, was the 
smartest girl in the universe.  And she was shorter than me too.  Not 
many people were when I was that age."
	"So, what happened?"
	"Nothing."
	"Nothing?"
	"Nothing.  I was too shy, too awkward to approach her.  All I 
could do was stare at her from across the room."
	Another pause, "You have a tragic love life, Doctor."
	"What do you mean?"
	"Your first love probably thinks you were the backwards boy 
who stared at her all the time.  Your numerous attempts to woo Dax had 
not only failed, but she married that bulky Klingon.  Leeta dumped you 
so she could be with a Ferengi, and a dim witted one at that.  I can only 
imagine what your adolescent years were like."
	Bashir's tone was light, "Remind me never to tell you anything 
personal again."
	"I can't help but make the obser--"
	The sound of Bashir's comm badge startled them.  He tapped it 
immediately, "Bashir."
	"Doctor, where are you?" asked Captain Sisko.
	"Trapped in a turbolift."
	"Do you know which one?"
	"No, how do you tell?"
	Faintly, Bashir heard the Chief's voice saying "you don't".
	"You don't," repeated the Captain.
	"What happened?"
	"A power conduit overload, took out all station control.  I have 
a lot of wounded people, Doctor.  We'll get you out as soon as we can."
	"Acknowledged."  The comm line was closed and Bashir fell 
into an astute silence.
	"I guess you would call it luck that I am trapped in the lift with 
you," spoke Garak.  "If I was here all alone, Guls know when I would 
be freed."
	Julian mumbled a response, obviously in thought.
	"You are worried about those people, aren't you?" inquired 
Garak.
	"It is not a comforting thought to know my infirmary is full of 
patients and I'm stuck in here."
	Silence fell, "Doctor, do you mind if I ask you a personal 
question?"
	"No, what is it?" his mind still on those who were injured.
	"Do those who you could not save haunt you?"
	The nature of the question startled him, and it was awhile 
before Bashir replied.  "When I was younger, it did.  'Could I of done 
something else to save them?  Was there a procedure I overlooked?'  As 
I became a more seasoned doctor, I began to learn from their deaths 
than have it haunt me."
	"But loosing a patient is hard on you."
	"I am a healer, of course death bothers me.  This whole bloody 
war bothers me."
	Garak laughed.
	"What?" he took offense.
	"You sound like Chief O'Brien."
	Bashir laughed, "Bloody Cardie."
	The sudden jolt of the lift stopped their conversation.  "What 
was that?" Bashir rose to his feet.
	"I believe they are trying to get us moving," as Garak spoke, 
the turbolift, indeed began to ascend slowly.  Stopping at the next level, 
the doors opened, freeing the captives.
	Helping Garak to his feet, they walked out into a deserted 
corridor.
	Taking in a deep breath, Garak spoke, "It's nice to have that 
behind us."  He nodded to the Doctor, "Well, I won't keep you from 
your patients."
	"Where are you going?" Bashir asked as he started moving the 
opposite direction down the hall.
	"To my quarters, I feel the need for some solitude."
	"You need to come to the infirmary.  You've just been under 
enormous stress and shock."
	Garak laughed at the Bashir's serious tone.  "My dear Doctor, 
you have people waiting who have more lethal ailments than a mine.  
I'll be fine."
	"I'll come and see you when I can."
	"Very well," he waved him off and they took their separate 
ways.

	Garak was dressing for another exciting day as a simple tailor 
when his door chimed.  Very unusual for him to receive visitors so 
early; very unusual for him to receive visitors.  "Come in."
	A very haggard looking Bashir clopped his way in, holding 
onto a med-kit.
	"Well, Doctor, this is a rather unsuspected surprise."
	Laying the kit on the table, Bashir opened it, taking out a 
tricorder.  "I said I'll come and see you when I could."  He started 
conducting a scan.
	"I feel fine, Doctor, really," Garak stood still and allowed 
Bashir to wave the wand around his head.  "There is no need for this."  
	"I just want to make sure."
	"I feel special," Garak smiled.
	Yawning, Bashir clipped the wand back in place.  "You are 
right, you're fine."
	"Doctor, did you just come from the infirmary?" Garak asked 
as Bashir stowed away the equipment.
	"Yes, I think I treated more plasma burns in the past few hours 
than an entire burn unit does all week," he yawned again.
	"Do you have any idea what time it is?"
	"Not really, why?"
	"It's 07:00, you've been in the infirmary for over fifteen hours."
	The Doctor was genuinely shocked be the news.  "I had no 
idea it was so late...early.  No wonder I'm exhausted."  He picked up the 
kit from the table, "Well, I'll let you finish getting reading for work."  
And he left.

	Bashir woke from a dead man's sleep.  "Computer, what time 
is it?" he asked the darkness.
	"The time is 19:43."  The synthetic voice answered.  A voice 
which he would swear sounds like Lwaxana Troi.
	Stretching, he mumbled to himself.  "Good, just in time for a 
drink or two and a round of darts.  He got up and moved about his 
quarters, getting ready for a night on the town.  Or rather a night sitting 
in Quark's drinking too much with the Chief. 
	On a search for his other shoe, he passed Kukalaka and 
stopped dead in his tracks.  Sitting on his shelf, as always, but it seemed 
he was busy while the Doctor was in the infirmary overnight.  In glory, 
he proudly stood, dressed in a perfect fitting Starfleet uniform.  A 
medical officer's uniform.  Complete with pips on the collar and a 
communicator pin.  In awe, he took Kukalaka from the shelf, noticing 
that he also received some cosmetic work.  The eyes were sewed on 
correctly, the leg was patched better than his work when he was five.  
Placing Kukalaka back on the ledge, he stepped away from him.  
Wondering how many sides there were to Garak.

Completed:  All Hallows Eve, October 31, 1998