Summary: Garak's shop has some odd patrons, sometimes.
Disclaimer: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine belongs to
Paramount/Viacom. Star Wars belongs to George Lucas. This story
is copyright 1999 Laura Jacquez Valentine.
Author's notes: Jen Chapman challenged me to write a DS9/SW
crossover featuring Garak, in 105 minutes, and including the
talking chihuahua, the pizza Leia, and Colonel Sanders. Jen
should know better.
Notes for Master & Apprentice: You wanted Obi-Wan playing
dress-up, you got him. Not that this makes up for the JarJar
slash, but I am trying to atone.
Start time: 10:50 am, EDT.
End time: 11:48 am, EDT.
Garak was not pleased. He'd had a very stressful day,
and just when it occurred to him to close his shop early, these
two...he couldn't think of a word foul enough to describe them.
Not that they were terribly foul, even if the small one did
have a bad haircut. Actually, they looked and smelled rather
like people Garak might want to take to bed, if he'd wanted to
take anyone but Julian to bed, which he didn't.
Really he didn't.
Even if Julian had turned him down in no uncertain
terms.
Even if the one with the bad haircut did look fetching
in the long, narrow velvet skirt he was modeling.
Garak produced a shiny metallic top for the boy to try on, and
spoke to the taller man. "Are you just passing through?"
"We're looking for someone."
"Ah. This is a good place to find someones."
"Our quarry is rather elusive. We have had to cross galaxies to
find them."
"Galaxies?" Garak looked up at him, archly. "But you're Terran.
I even recognize the accent."
"I am not Terran. I am Shi-Nangan. My padawan, there, is
Jetabi, but we were both raised on Coruscant." He smiled. "I am
Qui-Gon Jinn, and he is Obi-Wan Kenobi."
Garak ruthlessly repressed his disbelief. Obviously, the man
was insane. He changed the subject. "Who are you trying to
find? Perhaps I can help." "So we heard. We are looking for a
small animal, the size of my hand, which speaks of something
called 'taco bell'. With him, there is an old man, dressed all
in white, and a young, dark-haired girl."
Garak blinked. "Those three are harmless. Why do you want
them?"
"Are you in the habit of asking this many questions?"
"I trade information, from time to time. I like to get
something in return."
"I'll give you one night with my padawan in exchange for their
location."
As appealing as the offer was, Garak had never been big on
slaves--and if the boy could be offered that easily, "padawan"
must translate to something close to "slave". "No, thank you."
"A night with me, then."
"You're not my type."
The young man came out from behind the screen, in a lovely red
dress that showed all the skin down his right side. "Master?"
Qui-Gon eyed him critically. Garak concentrated on not
drooling, and made a mental note that "padawan" probably
did translate to "slave", and wondered how much Odo
would pay for that information.
"I don't think so, Obi-Wan," said Qui-Gon. "You wouldn't want
me to have to fight for you. Try something a little more
modest."
"I don't think anyone is crazy enough to fight you, Mast--"
"Behave, young Padawan."
The boy disappeared behind the screen, taking several more
dresses with him.
Garak frowned, and turned back to Qui-Gon. "What else do you
have to offer?"
"What do you want?"
"I want one night with Julian Bashir."
"My padawan or myself is the best I can do in that department.
Anything else?"
"No, not really. Unless you care to tell me why you're looking
for three harmless people."
"We are also harmless."
"I know a fighter when I see one, Qui-Gon Jinn."
"And I know a spy when I see one. So we are even."
"That we are--except that I still have information you want."
"Very well. They have plagued our galaxy with noise and strange
foodstuffs. Furthermore, they give children toys filled with
the power of the Dark Side."
"That's what they do here, only we are not silly enough to
object to it."
Obi-Wan came out, wearing a tight iridescent number. "Master?
It'll be perfect for Master Yoda's next party."
"It will indeed. Now, put your own clothes back on."
With a seductive shimmy of his hips, the boy disappeared behind
the screen.
Garak, still enchanted by the shimmy, barely noticed when
Qui-Gon asked him, again, for the location of the three
fugitives. He certainly didn't notice when he answered, because
he was too busy regretting not taking the offer of a night with
the slave-boy.
And then the dress was bought and the two were gone and Garak
slumped into a chair in frustration and closed his eyes. It had
been a very stressful day. Maybe he could just fantasize a
little and relieve some of the tension--
"Garak! Garak, are you all right?"
He opened his eyes to see Julian standing over him.
Wearing the shimmery iridescent dress he'd just sold to the
slave-boy and his master.
"Julian?"
"These two strange men came into Sickbay and said that you made
this especially for me. Is that true?"
Garak knew a gift when he saw one. "Yes, it's true."
"I love it! It makes me want to go dancing."
"Dancing?"
"Elim," said Julian, smiling, "will you take me dancing?"
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