The baby shower was Dax's idea, to help lift everyone's spirits after the Dominion attack on the station. Keiko O'Brien had flown up from Bajor especially for the occasion and had immediately grabbed hold of Julian for a prolonged hug. He had gone a little red with the effects of being squeezed before she could bring herself to let go.

The party was being held in the now mostly-deserted main bar of Quark's. The Ferengi was grateful for any revenue he could get in these lean times and provided lavish platters of edibles and several non-alcoholic punches. Dax, Morn, Garak, Jake and Nog, freshly returned from Starfleet Academy, had done the decorations. Pale blue streamers, balloons, zinlax bubbles, booties and rosettes hid the walls. Jake and Nog had managed to stop bickering about their shared accommodations long enough to do a particularly good job with the banner.

Along the bar dozens of inventively wrapped gifts awaited, many thoughtfully made out 'To the Big Sister of the New Arrival,' so Molly would not feel left out. She had a special ten minutes subspace interface in which Miles opened the presents for her and Keiko followed instructions to place a kiss on her Uncle Julian's enormous belly. There was hardly a dry eye in the place at this special gesture from the little girl to her brother. Quark in particular misted up and had to have a sip of his 'special' punch to re-steady his nerves. They all said goodbye to Molly at the end, her parents holding hands, fighting back tears as they did so.

Baby O'Brien was being very mobile today, so Julian spent most of the remainder of the party with the elegant tunic Garak had made for him rucked up under his armpits. An endless stream of station personnel came to 'feel' the baby kick and to ask whoever was standing near him at the time how the doctor was getting along. Julian had well and truly gotten fed up with people talking like he wasn't there and assuming it was okay to just come over and touch him, when Garak came up, rested one gray-scaled palm on his belly - and made that comment.

As one, O'Brien, Dax, Worf and Sisko took a step back.

Later, Garak's ears still ringing from the torrent of abuse, Sisko and O'Brien kindly pointed out to him where he went wrong. Annoyingly, it was something he had known about, but had assumed the circumstances had changed.

"I thought he wanted, needed to put on weight!" Garak complained. "He's been on a special diet, taken supplements, even had those disgusting bulk-adding drinks, for Gul's sake!"

O'Brien patted his shoulder, in the way of a married man to a single one. "It's just not done," he said sagely. "You can compliment him on his lovely glow."

"Or show concern at how tired and thin he seems," added Sisko.

"Or commiserate with his being ill."

"Or having swollen ankles."

"But never."

"Never, ever."

Together - "Tell him he's fat!"

"Garak," said Kira, on her way past to the punch bowl, "you didn't!"

"He did," affirmed Worf. "And Doctor Bashir gave the appropriate response." The Klingon was rather impressed, actually. Julian had gained a broader vocabulary since going to live with the chief.

After a suitable interval Garak approached his doctor again, this time bearing a glass of lime green punch. Julian accepted it as his due, indicating the Cardassian was forgiven. The grateful man began plumping his pillows, straightened his tunic and then set the younger man's hat father back to show off his charmingly smooth forehead.

Secretly, Garak found the sight of that lovely forehead subtly erotic. He took every opportunity to move whatever headgear Julian was wearing back so that it could be revealed. Just as fervently, Miles would appear, as now, to tilt it forward again. Garak thought none but other Cardassians found a smooth forehead alluring, but Miles had found out somehow and now he did his best to prevent the tailor from enjoying the sight. Infuriating!

Garak was quite pleased with the outfit he'd made for Julian today, a simple tunic-and-trousers design. The soft tan-colored material, intricately beaded with tiny stones that were as close a match to the Jewel of Alenti earring as he could find, had a subtle Cardassian eternity design that Garak had secretly copied on the show panel of his own jacket.

He'd completed Julian's outfit with a beaded hat and soft moccasins that had taken hours to make. Other partygoers had been surprised by the quality of the outfit, but, while he may still dabble at intrigue, Garak was primarily a tailor these days, after all. The entire outfit was utterly fetching and they had been receiving compliments all day.

Julian had rolled his eyes at the beads, of course, but in his tailor's heart Garak knew - the boy just called out for ornamentation.

Plus, there had been the need for extra fittings. This was about the only time he got to see the doctor now; it was increasingly difficult to fight one's way past the cordon of Julian's minders.

By brute force, Garak managed to stay by the doctor's side as the party wound down and he volunteered to be the one Julian leaned on for the short journey back to the O'Briens' quarters. Once there he sat Julian down, acquired some sweet oil and began massaging the doctor's feet. First he removed the moccasins and placed them carefully out of the way. Then he began firmly stroking the doctor's ankles upwards, slowly moving down to his toes.

Using skills he had only recently acquired (at Quark's surprisingly well attended massage classes), Garak began making love to Julian's feet. He was amazed at how sensual the act of doing this for his young friend was. It was quite...stimulating.

Actually, he was finding a pregnant Bashir eminently desirable. Despite the hurdle of the child inside him not being his own. Gul, but he had been mad that day! Never had such emotions swept him. The meeting with Doctor Morou, and later with her husband, Lance, had convinced him that there was little he could do about Julian's condition, except to accept it.

He had come to terms with that, to a point. He still found himself devising ways of accidentally bumping O'Brien and his wife out an airlock at odd moments. And the urge to pack his friend into a runabout and crash it into an uncharted planet was still strong. Amusing fantasies to see him through a long and tedious day of hem mending and trouser fitting, no doubt.

Put the jealousy and outrage aside and he was free to admire the rare gift of Julian going through a change he would most likely never get to see again. The slow swell of his belly, the almost mythical, and yet quite real glow that was the beauty of pregnancy....

"Garak, I hate to interrupt a man so enjoying his work, but Julian's asleep. Time to stop, already!" Miles was both amused and disturbed. The way the Cardassian had been looking at Julian was...well, he didn't really have words for how that was, but it made him damned uncomfortable.

"I'm not asleep," murmured Julian, blinking open his eyes. "I was just thinking."

"Sure you were," smiled Miles, helping Garak clear away the massage gear so they could get one to either side and hoist their thinking friend to his feet. "Time for a little nap now, Julian. Here we go." And they semi-carried him to the bedroom.

Garak fussed with pillows and bedding, while Miles took out the hypo spray and gave the doctor the shots he needed. Everything was at last evening out, Julian had been feeling sick less and less, and that was a good thing in Miles' book. He kissed the doctor lightly on the brow, murmuring, "Sleep tight, we'll just be in the next room."

Turning to leave, he nearly tripped over Garak. "Come on," he said gruffly to the Cardassian, indicating the door.

"I'd like to stay," Garak said, taking one of Julian's hands and kneeling besides the bed.

Miles was about to indignantly order the interloper out, when he noticed Julian's eyelashes fluttering. Somehow, the younger man sensed his two friends' animosity and was trying to wake up so he could moderate. Typically Julian, really. Could never stay out of an argument.

"You can stay," Miles grumbled and Julian stopped trying to wake up, falling deeper asleep instead. The chief reluctantly left the room, looking back over his shoulder at the kneeling Cardassian. If he didn't know better, he'd think the tailor was praying.

"So, you see Garak, I'm a perversion. An improved replica of the child my parents didn't want. A monster." Julian stood looking unblinkingly out one of his two large main room windows into the void of space. The emptiness echoed something deep inside his own heart. He had to do this, had to, but oh, it hurt. It hurt so much, it made him so afraid.

But Garak had a right to know about this. As his fiancée Paris had before him, his ex-fiancée.

Garak stared at him, heat and cold chasing themselves across his skin as he went through different emotions. This...this revelation put his perceptions of Julian under an entirely new light, one he wasn't sure he was ready for. Julian had lied to him, lied by omission. And he had done it well. Garak had not had even a hint of suspicion that the young man wasn't exactly what he appeared to be. Bashir was good, to have fooled one of the Order's best....

How many other secrets did he have locked behind those large, liquid, and oh so innocent-seeming eyes? How manipulative could Bashir be and how willing was he to use those enhanced mental skills against those whom he loved, should they go up against him? Just how evolved was this augmented brainpower of his? Was he playing Garak even now, analyzing his responses like some advanced calculator?

Garak's first instinct was to distance himself. To get as far away from those probing eyes as he could. To build a barrier between Julian and himself from behind which he could do some analyzing of his own.

But that was unnecessary. Julian was Julian. Memories played out against his mind's eye, Julian talking with him over a pleasant meal, Julian laughing with him, helping him, being concerned for him, going into danger for him, showing him things he would never have imagined would catch his interest. Julian, his friend, more dear to him than any native Cardassian had ever been.

What, in the end, was he worried about? The fact that the human could keep a secret, and such a devastatingly personal one at that, was reason for rejoicing. A tailor held all sorts of confidences; the wrong word let slip by his partner could ruin him and his shop both. That went double for the spying business, naturally.

He looked up from the clenched hands resting between his knees and felt a twinge of regret as he saw how huddled down with misery Julian looked. Julian's fear was plain to see in his stance, arms crossed tight against his chest, shoulders hunched. He'd been waiting more than half his life to have this secret found out, no doubt he dreaded what would come next. Garak wanted to spring up and comfort him, tell him his fears were nothing, that he - Elim Garak - would see that nothing bad would ever happen to him again.

But that was foolishness. Rash words from a lovesick fool were not what Julian needed now. For Garak realized that Julian's fears did indeed have a sound basis. Should the wrong people find out, they could decry his place in Starfleet, have him banned from practicing medicine, possibly even locked away in some institution.

Fear drove people to do irrational things and it would be a long time before humans let go of the distrust genetically enhanced people embodied after the Eugenics War. Still, if Julian had any urge to treat people as the legendary Kahn once had, someone would have noticed it by now. If anything, Julian tried to bring out the best in others, not suppress them so that his own star might shine.

Getting up, Garak moved to stand behind his friend, cupping Julian's shoulders in his hands and rubbing them soothingly. "You're not a monster," he whispered. "I am the monster here, and yet you would have me as your own. You - —you are Julian Subatoi Bashir, the man that I adore." He turned the doctor around and looked into his eyes.

"And no matter what happens, what secrets are revealed, what hardships come, we will endure them. If you allow me...we will face them together." Blue eyes looked deep into hazel, then closed as they kissed. The touch of Julian's lips ignited Garak's long-buried passion and he pulled back to kiss ardently at jaw line, chin, eyelids, then back to warm, sweet lips - pressing in, his hands gentle but firm on Julian's upper arms.

"But...I'm...a...fraud..." Julian tried to say around the kisses, but Garak was relentless, his kisses passionate and hot. He kissed and he kissed until all of Julian's protests were simply kissed away.

Julian let his fears go as he drifted on the enthusiasm of Garak's lips on his. It was heady; he felt drunk with happiness and a little shaky with relief. To have found the courage to reveal his secret and have it returned as acceptance was unbelievable. It was a dream come true.

Garak could wait no more and he crushed Julian possessively to his chest. Alarmed, Julian stiffened. After a while, though, he realized that being held wasn't as intimidating as he had feared. Cautiously relaxing into it, another feeling began to take the place of his anxiety.

Hmm... he thought. Hmmmmmmm....

"I think it goes over there, Chief."

"It goes here."

"The instructions say it goes there."

"Look, I'm an engineer, right? Years of training, worked on the Enterprise, worked on this bloody station, and I'm telling you..." Miles picked up a long pole and began hammering it vigorously into a hole that wasn't quite big enough for it, "...it goes here. You never pay any attention to what the plans say."

"Can I quote you on that?" Jake Sisko and his friend Nog poked their heads around the doorway and smiled, blunt white and gnarled pointy teeth shinning in the high artificial light. Their grins widened at the domestic sight of Julian Bashir, perched on the edge of a table, a great swath of instruction page spread before him, while at his feet Miles O'Brien fought the baby jungle gym into shape the way he thought it should go. The jungle gym had assumed a very...unique look.

"No, you bloody well cannot quote me," Miles muttered, looking around for the next bit of gym to pound into place.

"Actually," said Julian, hopping off the table and grabbing Jake's arm, "we were just about ready for a break, weren't we, Miles?" He smiled brightly and the put-upon engineer laid down his tools and got up, having a stretch while he was at it.

Shoving the massive paper landscape that was the instructions into Jake's surprised hands, Julian pushed the tall captain's son into his spot leaning against the table. "If you can get this done before we get back, I shall be eternally grateful," he whispered sotto voce, propelling a muttering, creaking and groaning Miles towards the door.

The boys looked at their task with trepidation.

"Well," hazarded Nog, picking up a plastic half curl, "this bit looks important."

"It goes next to the lynch pin. Look for something resembling a Night Gliders leg," Jake said, peering intently at his paper guide.

Eventually, after Miles had been persuaded to eat, drink and give an ankle massage, Julian had to let the chief return to his original task. He hoped the boys had finished up already.

They had, indeed. The tiny baby exercise toy was set up perfectly, with only one or two scavenged bits looking out of place where Miles' previous efforts had rendered the originals useless.

"I hate baby furniture," muttered O'Brien, scowling at the thing. Julian smirked and gave Jake and Nog the thumbs up as the two gratefully slid out the door. "Ha, they haven't even done it right. No leftovers. I always have leftovers when I do baby furniture."

"Keiko doesn't normally let you make up baby furniture, does she?" Julian asked.

"No, she does not...." Miles caught the smile in the apparently commiserating doctor's eyes. "Oh, shut up, Julian," he gripped, but a smile tweaked his own lips as he said it.

Julian opened a drawer and searched for a stylus to replace the burned out one he'd been using to make notes with. Dammit, where did Miles keep them all? Twine, plastic ties, a kind of spark plug, marbles...nope, no styluses here. The next drawer he tried was full of baby clothes from the shower, and his hands reached to take out the top item. It was a tiny blue tunic with a small cuddly targ sewn on the front. He tenderly stroked the soft material. Distracted he wondered if he really might have made a good father.

He liked children, worked well with them, had come first in his class at pediatrics. With a heavy heart he remembered his dream of one day holding his own child. A baby with his skin tones, hazel eyes, maybe a quirk of a grin. All his good points and none of the bad. It had hurt, killing the dream, but he had had to do it. He would never do to one of his own children what his parents had done to him.

Bringing the baby's tiny top to his face, he inhaled the special scent that all things made for babies seemed to have. Then placing the small item back, he shut the drawer, wiped his eyes with the back of one hand and went to replicate a new stylus.

He tried to ignore the wetness on his cheeks and the ache of his heart, telling himself it was just more hormone-induced depression. Determinedly he fixed on a set smile, knowing that if he couldn't be happy, he could at least not burden his friends with that fact. They would only worry. And Julian did so hate being a bother.

"What is going on?" Morou's harassed voice came over Miles' comm badge.

"Oh, nothing really. Julian just discovered he can't reach his shoes." There was a loud bang and the furious rustle of cloth.

"Er, Julian decided he..." Miles' voice faded as he turned his head to answer something the doctor must have said. "No, as a matter of fact, they were married, Julian! That is entirely untrue. …Now that...that is anatomically impossible, I've seen it tried...."

"A shoe. …Come back here, ye blasted... Julian! Okay, go, then, yer cranky bastard, see if I care!" Miles turned back to his comm badge. "Look, Morou, this sitting around doing nothing has driven Julian bonkers. It's the middle of the night and he's stormed over to the infirmary to plot in some half-assed idea about that virus serum he'd been working on. Soon as I'm dressed and can get this shoe he's thrown at me from out the light fixture before it causes a fire, I'll be after him."

"Well, hurry, his readings are all over the place. Miles, please try to be patient. A temper tantrum over not being able to reach his feet may seem ridiculous to you, but it's a big deal to him."

Miles sighed. "Yeah, I know. Sorry, bad day. For both us, as like. There, got the shoe, now for Julian. I'll let you know if he needs you."

"What are we going to do with you?" Miles asked, watching with one eye as a sleep- rumpled Cardassian skidded his way into Quark's entry. Alerted by his illegal tap into the doctor's medical scans the tailor was red-eyed with fatigue after a full day of war meetings with Sisko. But still he had pulled himself out here to find out what was wrong; one had to admire the man for his devotion, if nothing else.

The chief gave Garak the okay sign and the tired tailor sighed gratefully and made his way back to bed.

Wish I could go back to bed, too, Miles sighed to himself, then turned his attention back to a slightly flushed Julian Bashir, who gulped down his glass of Karvino juice guiltily. A Ferengi waiter hovered near by, wanting to know if they needed a refill. Miles shooed him away.

"But it was a good idea, Miles. I only wanted to plot it into the computer and...." Julian started his defense.

"And spend half the night up, playing with it. I know. But Morou wants you off your feet, and you need your sleep."

"Yes, Miles," Julian said contritely. O'Brien rolled his eyes. 'Yes, Miles' meant 'yes, Miles, until the next time,' normally. Little hope it would be different now.

"I'll see your cards, friend," snarled a voice from a table just behind them. A game of some sort was in progress, and the participants were being rather loud.

Miles turned to trade annoyed looks at the disruption with his companion, only to find a different emotion in the evil little sod's eyes. Was that a twinkle? Twinkles did not bode well, and neither did that lopsided grin.

"You know, Miles, I really should be keeping more off my feet," the trouble magnet said. "It's just that I get bored so easily, now that I've been all but banned from the infirmary." Julian sighed artfully. "What I need is a distraction."

"Fizzbin!" yelled the players behind them.

Julian's eyes met Miles'. A slight tension built between them. Miles was the first to break.

"No, oh, no. You can't gamble while your pregnant. It's...undignified."

"But..." Was that a tear in those big, fawn-colored eyes? Was there a tremble in the lips? Oh, God, now it was the full blown look. Miles felt his resolve melt like snow in a photon blast.

"Quark," he sighed. "How much of a stake do you need to join that game?"

Julian was devilishly good at Fizzbin. And at poker, Six Star Draw and Linx. He soon had his own little gambling table set up in a corner of Quark's. In it he had a discreetly disguised counter for his medications, an inclined sedan chair to 'repose' on, a low stand underneath for the now rarely used blue vomit bowl and a small buzzer to summon half a dozen Ferengi servants to be at his beck and call. And it was only just across the hall from the infirmary. He was happy, off his feet, near medical assistance should he required it, and best of all, making a killing.

A lot of gamblers came through DS9 and Julian felt no qualms in detaching them from their latinum. Most of them saw the poor pregnant soul in the corner and rushed right over to relieve him of his credits, after all. They soon discovered that a bulging belly did not limit the cunning of Bashir, Julian Bashir!

Quark had agreed to hold the loot for him, so he wouldn't have to worry about being mugged on the way home. The Ferengi did this scrupulously, deducting only a minimum fee for the service. Quark personally recorded the tally of all the doctor's winnings and was starting to feel a little strange about the whole thing.

It was impossible. How had the human managed to be this good without his noticing before? He certainly hadn't shown this talent during that horrible Laertian incident, nor at Quark's Big Game, though, come to think of it, he had proved better at poker then than he had later with the Laertian woman.

The games Julian was holding now were so close and exciting, Quark started charging customers a set rate to watch. He even had a secret live feed to the station for one particularly high-staked round of Linx. Bashir won, and Quark got so carried away he accidentally put the full pot tally in the human's account without deducting his fee. But the huge bet he'd placed on the doctor more than covered it. Bashir was having the best winning streak he'd ever seen. If Quark had his way, he'd keep Bashir bare foot and pregnant for the rest of his life!

Nighttime, the O'Briens' bedroom.

"Miles."

"Mmm?"

"I haven't contracted to carry Quark's twins, have I?"

"No, Julian."

"Oh, just another nightmare, then."

"I wouldn't call having Quark's kids 'just' anything."

"Shut up, Miles."

This was it, nobody was about, it was just Garak and Julian, alone together in Miles' apartment, while Miles was at work. Garak sat himself down on the sofa and held out his arms. Smiling, Julian lowered himself into his embrace.

Julian felt the unique thrill that shivered up his spine each time they did this. It felt...so good. So very good indeed.

Garak slipped one scaled hand under Julian's tunic and began running it over the cool skin of the human's side and hip. His hand wandered along the younger man's odd single spine, loving each hard little knob of bone, so unlike yet like a Cardassians. He traced a rib, then more tentatively, ran his hand lightly forwards over the bulging tummy. As he did, he tilted his face up and they began the first of several long, passionate kisses.

Miles had left his planner on the table and, as he needed the blasted thing, hurried back to pick it up. Opening his front door he went strait to the table and gathered the planner in one hand, stuffing it into his belt. Turning to exit again, he froze. Was that what he thought was happening, happening in his lounge? Taking a hesitant peek over his shoulder, he blinked in surprise as the full picture hit him. Garak and Julian were definitely playing tonsil hockey on his couch.

Turning slowly away, Miles crept quietly for the exit, shutting the door softly behind him. Good grief! Blessed saints and all the stars! What was he going to do now?

Miles waited for the right action to pop into his head. He vaguely wondered what emotion would motivate him, raging anger, crippling jealousy, white-hot possessiveness....

To his utter amazement, it was none of these. Instead, Miles was washed in a dizzying wave of relief.

Well, that sorts that out, doesn't it? Miles' subconscious told him happily.

Pardon? he asked it, not seeing his reasoning.

Well, Julian wants Garak, his subconscious patiently explained to him, so now we're off the hook. Look, with Julian safely in the arms of another man, we can fantasize about him all the time, but not get tempted. It was only because Julian was single and alone and needed our protection that we felt like ...you know. Acting on our baser desires. If subconsciouses could blush, this one would have.

Miles considered his higher reasoning's words for a moment and then a glow bulb went on. Ah. Yer right. It was the worry that I might make a move and hurt Keiko and Molly, not to mention Julian, that had me all tensed up inside. I'm with you now.

His subconscious rolled its metaphorical eyes. Sometimes it was hard, being him.

Gently, as one does when poking at a sore tooth, O'Brien brought up the image of Garak and Bashir together on his couch. Nothing. No little niggle of jealousy, no possessive rage. He would have liked Julian to have picked a more suitable life-partner. Garak was a big unknown, and, frankly, Miles didn't like him. But besides worrying about the younger man's choice, Miles was free of all damaging negative emotions.

Odd, he would have bet latinum on his feeling any way but the way he did about seeing Garak kiss his friend. Actually, though, now that he came to think of it, it had been kind of sweet the way they'd been curled up together.

Relieved, and just a little turned on, the engineer began his day, whistling happily as he went.

"Mmm. Garak, was that Miles?" asked Julian, looking over at the door.

"Miles who?" said Garak, pulling him back for another kiss.

Rustle, rustle, rustle.

"Julian - what are you doing?" Miles sat up and stared across at the dim shape of his bed partner. Following his lead, Julian sat up, too.

"Tubeworms," he said.

"Pardon?"

"Tubeworms. Miles, I must have tubeworms."

"Computer, half lights," Miles instructed, then watched in consternation as the light revealed Julian struggling up from the bed and shrugging into his blue robe.

"A big bowl of sautéed tubeworms, room temperature with lemon sauce and a little pepper," the doctor murmured, hunting for his slippers.

"Sautéed tubeworm?" Miles repeated, a vision of the Ferengi dish coming vividly to mind. "You want some now?"

"Yes!" Julian hissed, frustrated at the disappearance of his left slipper.

"Oh. Fair enough," O'Brien agreed, hopping out of bed easily. Julian glared as the other man shimmied into a top and pants. It took considerable effort for him to get himself dressed these days and Miles' blithe display irked him.

On the other hand, he reminded himself happily, as Miles pushed him back on the bed and made his way out the door and over to Quark's, tasty tubeworms were on the way. He licked his lips in anticipation.

"No more bloody tubeworms for you, me lad," muttered O'Brien, hauling his friend from the teeth of nightmare. "And don't even think about gravyworm. Kai Winn is not to join me in bed again."

"At least she was more entertaining than Garak was in this dream," Julian moaned, trying to convince his heart that it didn't need to beat quite so fast.

"Garak again." Miles snorted, then rubbed comfortingly at Julian's shoulder. "We need to stop these nightmares."

"I've got an idea," Julian volunteered softly, "but you've got to promise not to tell anyone about it."

"Sure I won't," Miles agreed. "What is it?"

"…You won't tell any one?"

"I promise."

"Because you have to sleep some times, Miles, and I wouldn't hesitate to use that fact to my advantage."

"I won't tell. Cross my heart and hope to be adopted by the Klingon embassy as a mascot."

"Eww."

"Now, can you go to sleep?"

"You promise not to say a word, not to any one?"

"Yes, I promise. Not a word."

"Okay, then. Good night, Miles."

"Good night, Julian." He waited until he thought his friend had gone to sleep. "Good night, Kukalaka."

"You promised!" Julian mumbled indignantly.

"Sorry. It just slipped out. Go to sleep now, I won't mention it again, promise."

"It's not funny, you know."

"I know it's not. Will you please go to sleep now? It's getting late."

"I know it. Good night, Miles." There was silence for about three seconds. "And Miles?"

"Yes?"

"Kukalaka says good night, too."

Sighing in exasperation, Miles wrapped his irrepressible friend in a firm embrace and willed the man to sleep. Soon he felt Julian's tensely held body relax and he could risk leaning back and looking at him. The room was dimly lit by monitors and such and Miles could just make out enough detail to see that Julian was at long last smiling in his sleep.

That was good, because he had had a terrible last couple of nights. The dreams had been awful and the doctor had lost a lot of sleep. What shuteye he did get was not of the proper, restful kind. Morou was getting worried, so was Miles.

Tonight Julian had tentatively gone back to another habit from his past. Besides learning to yell himself out of a nightmare when he was a child, he had had a protector to keep away the scary dreams. The small teddy bear currently wrapped in his arms had apparently provided a sturdy shield against nightmares. It had also been his first confidant and his first patient. The cute, little, fuzzy, brown bear meant a lot to him.

Julian needn't have thought Miles would blab his secret, or even think less of him for it. The engineer found Julian needing his teddy terribly endearing. Besides, if he admitted Julian was sleeping with a teddy bear, he'd have to admit that he was, too. A man had his limits.

"Keiko! Good news!" Miles grinned at his wife over the open comm channel.

"What is it?" Keiko couldn't help but smile back at him, he seemed so happy.

"Miles? Are you... Yes, I suppose it is." Keiko looked at her husband warily. She knew how he felt about Julian, and about 'that Cardie spy,' and found this sudden approval worrying.

"No, it's all right, love. Watch." He turned to the room behind him and called out to Garak where the man was mending a ripped seam from one of Julian's tunics. "Hey, Garak, go kiss Julian for me, will ya?"

Garak raised his head, looking nonplused by the request.

"Go on," Miles encouraged, shooing him in the direction of Julian, who was napping on the sofa.

"I'm not sure how to take that request," Garak admitted to the room in general. "But if it involves keeping you happy, Mr. O'Brien, I shall kiss Julian indefinitely." He put his mending to one side and headed towards the doctor.

Garak halted as he stooped over Julian's sleeping form and glanced back at the engineer and his wife, visible on the communication module.

"You are a sick and twisted individual, Mr. O'Brien. I'm growing to like you more each day. Please, stop it." Then he leaned all the way in and kissed his lover on the lips.

"See!" crowed Miles, conveying somehow with that one word his total lack of jealousy. He gestured grandly and puffed out his chest, mightily pleased with himself.

Miles was acting as if he alone had arranged Garak and Julian getting together and was extremely proud of the achievement. Keiko bit her lips and nodded to prevent herself from laughing. She didn't know what about the other two men becoming close had pleased her husband, but it had. And for that she was glad.