GARAK: What a waste of a morning. That Galipotan freighter that was scheduled to be here at oh seven hundred still hasn't arrived. Oh well, that's the price of doing business with a culture that refuses to even acknowledge the concept of time. Though I must say, they make magnificent sweaters. I hope I'm not boring you, Doctor.
BASHIR: Oh, not at all. No, I was just up late last night.
GARAK: Entertaining one of your lady friends?
BASHIR: Unfortunately, no. I was reading the last few chapters of The Never-Ending Sacrifice.
GARAK: Isn't it superb? Without a doubt the finest Cardassian novel ever written.
BASHIR: I'll take your word for it.
GARAK: So you didn't enjoy it?
BASHIR: Well, I thought it was interesting. Maybe a little dull in parts.

[Replimat]

(The place is packed out and people are queuing.)
GARAK: Oh, wonderful. At this rate, we'll be done eating lunch just in time for dinner.
BASHIR: There's always Quark's.
GARAK: True, but I'm really not in the mood for noisy, crowded and vulgar today.
BASHIR: Then I suppose the Klingon restaurant is out of the question.
GARAK: I can't believe that I'm having lunch with a man who thinks The Never-Ending Sacrifice is dull.
BASHIR: I just thought the story got a little redundant after a while. I mean the author's supposed to be chronicling seven generations of a single family, but he tells the same story over and over again. All of his characters lead selfless lives of duty to the state, grow old and die. Then the next generation comes along and does it all over again.
GARAK: But that's exactly the point, Doctor. The repetitive epic is the most elegant form of Cardassian literature, and The Never-Ending Sacrifice is it's greatest achievement.
BASHIR: None of his characters ever really come alive, and there's more to life than duty to the state.
GARAK: A Federation viewpoint if ever I heard one. This is ridiculous. Can't you just move to the front of the line? Tell them it's a medical emergency or something.
BASHIR: We'll be there in a minute. Look, maybe if you lent me another book by a different writer.
GARAK: It would only be a waste of time. When it comes to art, you're obviously a prisoner of Federation dogma and human prejudice.
BASHIR: I'm sorry you feel that way. I was just trying
(Garak winces and holds his head in pain)
BASHIR: Are you all right?
GARAK: I'm fine.
BASHIR: You don't look fine. Your skin is clammy and your pupils are contracted.
GARAK: I assure you, I'm in perfect health. Now, you were asking about other Cardassian books. Something maybe a little more accessible
(more pain)
BASHIR: Perfect health. Then Cardassian standards must be a little lower than mine. Come on.
GARAK: Doctor, what do you think you're doing?
BASHIR: I'm taking you to the Infirmary.
GARAK: That won't be necessary.
BASHIR: Maybe not, but humour me.
GARAK: Frankly, Doctor, I'm a little tired of humouring you. There's nothing wrong with me that a little peace and privacy wouldn't cure. Now if you'll excuse me, I seem to have lost my appetite.
KIRA: What was that all about?
BASHIR: I have no idea.

[Dax's quarters]

(Julian is scanning a spiky cone poking out of moss with spikes.)
DAX: Can you tell what's wrong with it?
BASHIR: In my expert medical opinion, I'd say It's sick.
DAX: I know that, but why is it sick?
BASHIR: I'm a doctor, not a botanist. Did you ask Professor O'Brien?
DAX: Keiko's at a hydroponics conference on Rigel Four. She won't be back for a week.
BASHIR: And none of your past hosts have had any experience with plants?
DAX: Daxes have never been much on gardening. Tobin was the only one who ever tried his hand at it, but he had even less luck with plants than he did with women.
BASHIR: Do you even know where it's from?
DAX: I picked it up on Ledonia Three.
BASHIR: May I?
DAX: Be my guest.
(He uses the computer console to download his scans)
BASHIR: That explains it. Ledonian soil contains a benevolent mycorrhizal fungus that helps the native plants retain water. But the fungus in this potting soil's almost completely died out. If we can salvage what's left and cultivate a new batch in the lab, that should do the trick.
DAX: Keiko would be proud of you.
BASHIR: It's all there on the screen. I only wish my humanoid patients were as easy to treat.
DAX: Did Chief O'Brien dislocate his shoulder again?
BASHIR: It's Garak. At lunch today, he seemed as though he was going to have some kind of seizure. He was having trouble breathing and he appeared to be in a great deal of pain. When I tried to get him to come to the Infirmary, he outright refused.
DAX: Maybe he just doesn't like going to see the doctor.
BASHIR: That's not it. It's that damn Cardassian evasiveness of his. I mean, making me guess about his past is one thing, but when it comes to his health? I don't know. Why can't he just tell me what's going on?
DAX: It sounds like you're taking this personally.
BASHIR: I suppose I am. It's just that Garak and I have been having lunch together once a week for more than a year now. You'd think he'd come to trust me a little.
DAX: Why should he? It's not like you two are really friends.
BASHIR: No, of course not. I suppose when it comes right down to it, I don't trust him either. I mean, for all I know, the man is a Cardassian spy.
DAX: Exactly.
BASHIR: Exactly. If he doesn't want my help, that's his prerogative.

[Promenade - upper level]

(Morn watches mournfully as the shutters are being brought down on Quark's cafe. Bashir comes out of the turbolift and notices Quark and Garak talking below.)

[Quark's]

GARAK: So I take it we understand each other?
QUARK: Garak, how long have you been living on this station?
GARAK: Too long.
QUARK: And in all that time, have I ever let you down?
GARAK: I have never done business with you until now.
QUARK: Which is why this deal is so important to me. I want our business relationship to get off on the right foot. Now relax. You'll get your merchandise.
GARAK: Soon, Quark I. can't wait much longer.
(Garak leaves and Bashir comes down the internal stairs.)
BASHIR: You and Garak going into business? I couldn't help overhearing your conversation.
QUARK: Oh, that. I'm helping Garak get a new sizing scanner for his shop.
BASHIR: A sizing scanner?
QUARK: Not just any sizing scanner. The best. Straight from Merak Two. Calibrated to be accurate down to the micrometer. And, I might add, at a very reasonable price.
BASHIR: Really? I thought Garak sounded a bit upset.
QUARK: Upset? Garak? I hadn't noticed. Now, is there anything I can do for you? A little Saurian brandy to go, or maybe a late night session in a holosuite?
BASHIR: No. Thank you. I think I'll call it a night.
QUARK: Suit yourself.

[Infirmary]

(Bashir gives Sisko a hypo.)
BASHIR: There. How does that feel?
SISKO: Much better.
BASHIR: Try not to yell at any more admirals for a while.
SISKO: I wasn't yelling. I was just expressing my feelings. Loudly.
(O'Brien enters)
SISKO: Chief.
O'BRIEN: Commander.
(Sisko leaves)
O'BRIEN: You wanted to see me?
BASHIR: Yes. I was hoping you could give me a hand. I've been trying to access the old Cardassian medical files but I haven't been having much luck.
O'BRIEN: I'm not surprised. The Cardassians did a general systems sweep before they pulled out. The medical files would have been deleted along with everything else.
BASHIR: Is there any way to recover them?
O'BRIEN: Maybe. These subroutines don't look anywhere near as bad as the engineering files did. I might be able to reconstruct the data by microscanning the purge trace.
BASHIR: How long will that take?
O'BRIEN: Two, maybe three weeks.
BASHIR: Well, that settles that. Thank you anyway, Chief.
O'BRIEN: Sorry I couldn't be any more help.
QUARK [OC]: Quark to Bashir
BASHIR: This is Bashir.
QUARK [OC]: Doctor, I need you in my bar right away.

[Quark's]

(Garak is trying to cure his headache with his third bottle of booze.)
QUARK: Come on, Garak. Don't you think you've had enough?
GARAK: On the contrary. Anyone who talks about the numbing effects of your liquor is severely overstating the case.
BASHIR: What's all this?
QUARK: He came in complaining about a headache. The next thing I knew he drank up half my stock of kanar.
GARAK: Doctor, what a pleasant surprise. I apologise for my outburst at lunch, but I promise I'll make it up to you. Please, join me.
BASHIR: I think I will. May I?
GARAK: By all means.
(Quark takes hold of the bottle.)
GARAK: What are you doing?
BASHIR: I think it's a little noisy in here. I prefer to drink somewhere quiet.
GARAK: An excellent idea. We'll go to my quarters.
BASHIR: Whatever you want. But first I must make a stop at the Infirmary.
GARAK: The Infirmary? My dear Doctor, what kind of fool do you take me for? Now give me back my bottle. Give me my bottle!
(Bashir holds it behind his back and Quark neatly takes it off him)
BASHIR: I will. In the Infirmary.
GARAK: I'm not going to the Infirmary and I refuse to play this ridiculous game. Now give me, give me
(Garak collapses in pain)
GARAK: Make it stop. Make it stop.
BASHIR: Bashir to Ops. Medical emergency. Two to beam to the Infirmary. Energise.

[Infirmary]

(The scanner shows filaments inside Garak's head, whilst the patient is out cold on a bed with a gizmo on his forehead.)
ODO: Some kind of implant?
BASHIR: Apparently.
ODO: What's it for?
BASHIR: Well, I was hoping you could tell me. After working for the Cardassians for five years, I'd guess you know them as well as anyone.
ODO: Maybe so, but I never bothered to look inside their skulls.
BASHIR: No, I don't suppose you did.
ODO: Do you think this is the cause of Garak's condition?
BASHIR: It's possible. Whatever this thing is, it's situated in his postcentral gyrus and has filaments that connect it to his entire central nervous system.
ODO: Maybe it's some kind of punishment device. A parting gift from the Cardassian government.
BASHIR: I thought of that, but based on the amount of scarring in the surrounding tissue, this implant's been in there for years. And as far as I can tell, Garak's only been in pain for the past few days.
ODO: Interesting. I wish I had an answer for you, Doctor.
BASHIR: Well, I was hoping you could help me get one. I think Quark knows what this thing is.
ODO: Now what makes you say that?
BASHIR: I overheard them talking the other night. Garak was negotiating to buy some merchandise from Quark. He seemed pretty desperate. I tried to ask Quark what it was about, but
ODO: No need to explain, Doctor. The direct approach seldom works with people like him. This could answer some of my own questions. Quark has sent several coded messages to Cardassia Prime in the past few days.
BASHIR: Really?
ODO: I routinely monitor all of Quark's subspace communications.
BASHIR: Is that legal?
ODO: It's in the best interests of station security. Doctor, do you want to know what Quark knows or not?
BASHIR: I see your point.
ODO: Then meet me in Security at oh two hundred hours. Quark always makes his clandestine calls after the bar closes.
BASHIR: I wouldn't miss it.

[Quark's]

BOHEEKA [on monitor]: (a Cardassian) Quark, you parasite. It's been too long. Is Hartla still working for you?
QUARK: The dabo tables wouldn't be the same without her.
BOHEEKA [on monitor]: Oh, what I wouldn't give to see her again.
QUARK: I'm sure she misses you too.
BOHEEKA [on monitor]: I'll bet she does. She would've bankrupted me if the occupation would've lasted much longer. But I'm sure you didn't contact me just to reminisce. What can I do for you?
QUARK: How'd you like to earn a little extra latinum? Maybe enough to buy yourself a promotion?
BOHEEKA [on monitor]: You have my undivided attention.
QUARK: I need a piece of Cardassian bio-technology and the schematics relating to its installation.
BOHEEKA: Bio-technology. That shouldn't be too difficult. What is it?
QUARK: You know, I never ask those kinds of questions, but I've got the requisition code number.
BOHEEKA [on monitor]: Give it to me. I'll look for it.
QUARK: I knew I could count on you. Here it is.

[Security office]

BASHIR: I hope you don't have one of those little bugs hidden in my quarters.
ODO: Should I?
QUARK [on monitor]: Transmission complete.
BOHEEKA [OC]: Hold on.

[Quark's]

BOHEEKA [on monitor]: This won't take long.
QUARK: Take your time.
BOHEEKA [on monitor]: Quark, you idiot!
QUARK: Is something wrong?
BOHEEKA [on monitor]: Is something wrong? I'm ruined. My career is over.
QUARK: What did I do?
BOHEEKA [on monitor]: You and your damn requisition code. It's for classified bio-technology, Quark. Even the cursed number is classified. Where did you get it? No. Don't tell me. I don't want to know. If I'm lucky, I can still get through this with my skin intact. Maybe they won't trace the request back to me.
QUARK: Who won't?
BOHEEKA [on monitor]: The Obsidian Order.
QUARK: Nice talking to you, Boheeka. We'll have to

[Security office]

QUARK [on monitor]: Do it again sometime.
ODO: The Obsidian Order. That certainly complicates things.
BASHIR: Who are they?

[Promenade]

ODO: They're the ever-vigilant eyes and ears of the Cardassian Empire. It is said that a Cardassian citizen cannot sit down to a meal without each dish being duly noted and recorded by the Order.
BASHIR: What happens if you eat something that doesn't meet with their approval?
ODO: People have been known to disappear for less. Whether you agree with their goals or not, you can't help but admire their efficiency. Even the Romulan Tal Shiar can't compete with them when it comes to intelligence gathering and covert operations.
BASHIR: What has all this to do with Garak?
ODO: I wish I knew.
BASHIR: Do you think the Order put that implant in Garak's head?
ODO: I have a better question. If the implant is a punishment device, then why is Garak trying to get his hands on another one?
BASHIR: He did ask for the specifications. Maybe he's trying to find some way of removing it.
ODO: Either way, I'd like to have a talk with him when he wakes up.
BASHIR: You'll have to get in line. Thank you, Constable.

[Infirmary]

BASHIR: Computer, report on the status of patient Garak.
COMPUTER: Patient Garak is no longer in the infirmary.
BASHIR: What? When did he leave?
COMPUTER: Patient checked out at zero three twenty hours.

[Corridor]

(Bashir rings a doorbell.)
BASHIR: Garak? Are you in there? Computer, open the door to chamber nine oh one, habitat level H three. Emergency medical override Bashir one alpha.

[Garak's quarters]

(Garak is injecting himself)
GARAK: Ah, Doctor, what a pleasant surprise. I'm sorry, I must've missed the door chime.
(Bashir snatches the hypo from Garak.)
BASHIR: What the hell do you think you're doing? Triptacederine. How much of this did you take?
GARAK: A mere thirty cc's. Not nearly enough, I'm afraid.
BASHIR: Thirty cc's would anaesthetize an Algorian mammoth.
GARAK: We Cardassians must be made of sterner stuff. I barely feel it.
BASHIR: Listen to me, Garak. I've had just about enough of your nonsense. Now you're coming back to the Infirmary with me.
GARAK: I don't think so. Believe me when I tell you there's nothing you can do for me.
BASHIR: Oh, and Quark can, is that it?
GARAK: I thought I was supposed to be the spy.
BASHIR: Quark's not coming, Garak.
GARAK: How do you know?
BASHIR: I heard him talking to his Cardassian contact. He couldn't get the item you requested.
GARAK: Really? That's most distressing, but I suppose, not all that surprising. Ah, well. Maybe it's for the best. My hypospray, if you please.
BASHIR: Another dose of triptacederine might kill you.
GARAK: Thank you for your concern, Doctor, but I'd rather have the hypospray.
BASHIR: I'm not going to let you commit suicide. I'm here to help you.
GARAK: I doubt you can. I think you'll find that I'm experiencing some slight deterioration of my cranial nerve cluster.
BASHIR: It's not so slight, I'm afraid. We've got to get you to the infirmary.
GARAK: My dear Doctor, I have no intention of putting myself on display for the amusement of the Bajoran inhabitants of this station.
BASHIR: It's not your pride I'm worried about. It's that implant you're carrying around inside your head.
GARAK: You know about that, do you?
BASHIR: It's some kind of punishment device, isn't it?
GARAK: Punishment device? I suppose in a way that's what it's become.
BASHIR: If it wasn't put there to punish you, then what's it for? Garak, I need to know what we're up against. If you tell me what it was meant for, maybe I could find some way to remove it.
GARAK: It's hopeless, Doctor. Believe me, it can't be removed.
BASHIR: How do you know?
GARAK: That's the whole point. If it could be easily removed, it would be useless. You see, on Cardassia I was entrusted with certain information. Information that needed to be kept safe regardless of the situation. My implant was given to me by Enabran Tain himself, the head of the Obsidian Order. If I was ever tortured, it was designed to stimulate the pleasure centres of my brain to trigger the production of vast amounts of natural endorphins. I do hope you appreciate the irony, Doctor. The sole purpose of the implant was to make me immune to pain.
BASHIR: What caused it to malfunction?
GARAK: It was never meant for continuous use.
BASHIR: Continuous use? What do you mean?
GARAK: Living on this station is torture for me, Doctor. The temperature is always too cold, the lights always too bright. Every Bajoran on the station looks at me with loathing and contempt. So one day I decided I couldn't live with it anymore, and I took the pain away.
BASHIR: You activated the implant.
GARAK: I created a device which allowed me to trigger the implant whenever I wanted. At first, I only used it a few minutes a day, but I began relying on it more and more until finally I just turned it on and never shut it off.
BASHIR: How long has it been on?
GARAK: Two years.
BASHIR: And now the implant is breaking down.
GARAK: That's correct.
BASHIR: Then why not just shut the damn thing off?
GARAK: It's too late, now. My body has become completely dependent on the higher endorphin levels generated by the implant.
BASHIR: So, that's it then. You're going to just give up and let them win.
GARAK: Them, Doctor?
BASHIR: The Central Command, the Obsidian Order, whoever it is who exiled you here. You're just going to roll over and die, let them destroy you, give up any hope of ever seeing Cardassia again.
GARAK: Doctor, did anyone ever tell you that you are an infuriating pest?
BASHIR: Chief O'Brien all the time, and I don't pay any attention to him either.
GARAK: Has it ever occurred to you that I might be getting exactly what I deserve?
BASHIR: No one deserves this.
GARAK: Oh, please, Doctor. I'm suffering enough without having to listen to your smug Federation sympathy. Do you think because we have lunch together once a week, you know me? You couldn't even begin to fathom what I'm capable of.
BASHIR: I'm a doctor. You're my patient. That's all I need to know.
GARAK: Wrong again. You need to know who you're trying to save. During the occupation, I was a Gul in the Cardassian Mechanised Infantry. We were stationed just outside the Bajoran Capital. Shortly before the withdrawal, a handful of Bajoran prisoners escaped from my custody. My aide, a man named Elim, tracked them to a Cardassian shuttle about to depart for Terok Nor. Elim got aboard, but the captain refused to let him search the ship, because he claimed he was under strict orders from Gul Dukat to depart immediately. So I had the shuttle destroyed, killing the escapees, Elim, and ninety seven Cardassian civilians.
BASHIR: You can't be serious.
GARAK: I followed my orders. None of those prisoners escaped off of Bajor alive. Unfortunately as it turned out, one of the passengers on the shuttle was the daughter of a prominent military official. I was stripped of my rank and commission, and exiled from Cardassia. So now you know, Doctor. I hope I haven't shattered too many of your illusions.
BASHIR: Listen to me, Garak. Right now I'm not concerned with what you did in the past. I'm simply not going to walk out of here and let you die. We need to turn that implant off and whatever withdrawal symptoms or side effects you may experience, I promise I'll help you through them. I need to know where that triggering device is. Where is it?
GARAK: The desk, second drawer.
(Later, Garak is on a bed with the device on his head and a medic present.)
BASHIR: That'll be all for now. If you need to reach me, I'll be here for at least the next twenty six hours.
(The medic leaves)
BASHIR: Computer I'm reading an ongoing erosion of tissue in the patient's lymphatic system. Explain.
COMPUTER: Unable to determine a cause due to insufficient data on Cardassian physiology.
BASHIR: All right. Continue to monitor the status of the patient's cranial implant. Inform me if it shows any sign of reactivation.
(doorbell)
BASHIR: Yes?
ODO: Doctor, I was hoping I could ask Garak some questions.
BASHIR: He's asleep. He has been ever since I turned off his implant. Come on, we can talk outside.

[Corridor]

ODO: Doctor, I need to talk to him as soon as possible. I have four cases left in my homicide files which I'm almost certain were committed by the Obsidian Order. If Garak was a member he may be able to shed some light on them.
BASHIR: I'm afraid your questions will have to wait.
ODO: How long?
BASHIR: I don't know yet. Constable, Garak's body has undergone a severe shock. I don't know when he'll recover. I'm not even sure if he'll recover.
ODO: In that case I want to talk to him now. Wake him up.
BASHIR: I'll do no such thing.
ODO: Doctor, these are murder cases and Garak may be a suspect.
BASHIR: That may be so, but he's still my patient and I won't have him disturbed. So until further notice, his quarters are off limits to everyone except emergency medical personnel. So, if you'll excuse me, I have a patient to attend to.

[Garak's quarters]

(time passes in a series of fades. Bashir gets a drink from the replicator, Garak is restless, Bashir sleeps in the chair. Garak wakes up, crying.)
BASHIR: Garak?
GARAK: Leave me alone.
BASHIR: I don't think that would be a good idea right now. Your blood chemistry is severely imbalanced. You need to rest.
GARAK: Don't touch me.
BASHIR: Just calm down.
GARAK: I don't want to be calm, Doctor. I've been calm long enough. Look at this place. It's pathetic. To think that this is what my life has been reduced to. This sterile shell, this prison.
(Garak smashes a flower vase)
BASHIR: Take it easy, Garak. Look, you're obviously experiencing some side effects from the deactivation of the implant.
GARAK: Ridiculous. I feel more clear-headed than I have in the past two years. Two years. What a waste these past two years have been.
(Garak overturns a table)
GARAK: There was a time, Doctor, oh there was a time when I was a power. The protégé of Enabran Tain himself. Do you have any idea what that means?
BASHIR: I'm afraid I don't.
GARAK: No, you don't, do you. You don't know much of anything. Tain was the Obsidian Order. Not even the Central Command dared challenge him. And I was his right hand. My future was limitless until I threw it away.
BASHIR: You mean when you had that shuttle shot down to stop those prisoners from escaping?
GARAK: Stop them? I only wish that I had stopped them.
BASHIR: You didn't?
GARAK: No, Doctor, my disgrace was worse than that. Unimaginably worse.
BASHIR: What could you have possibly done worse than that?
GARAK: I let them go. It was the eve of the Cardassian withdrawal. Elim and I were interrogating five Bajorans. They were children, Doctor. None of them were older than fourteen years old. They knew nothing. They lived in bombed-out rooms, scrounged for food on the streets. They were filthy and they stank. The room was freezing cold, the air was like ice, and suddenly the whole exercise seemed utterly meaningless. All I wanted was a hot bath and a good meal. So I let them go. I gave them whatever latinum I had in my pockets, and opened the door, and flung them back into the street. Elim couldn't believe his eyes. He looked at me as if I were insane.
BASHIR: You took pity on those children. There's nothing wrong with that.
GARAK: No! I was a fool! I should've finished the interrogation and turned them over to the troops for execution. But because I was chilly and my stomach was growling, I failed in my duty and destroyed everything I had worked for.
BASHIR: And so they exiled you.
GARAK: That's right. And left me to live out my days with nothing to look forward to but having lunch with you.
BASHIR: I'm sorry you feel that way. I thought you enjoyed my company.
GARAK: I did. And that's the worst part. I can't believe that I actually enjoyed eating mediocre food and staring into at your smug, sanctimonious face. I hate this place and I hate you.
BASHIR: Okay, Garak, that's your prerogative. Now I really think you should lie down.
GARAK: Get away from me.
BASHIR: Garak.
(Garak comes at him in fury and they break furniture.)
BASHIR: Garak, stop this. I don't want to hurt you.
(Garak is about to strangle Bashir when he has a fit)
BASHIR: Bashir to Infirmary. I need an emergency medical team in Garak's quarters now.

[Infirmary]

BASHIR: Administer another twenty cc's of hyperzine.
JABARA: (Bajoran nurse) He's not responding.
BASHIR: Give it a second. Begin cardiostimulation.
JABARA: His heartbeat is stabilising.
BASHIR: But his lymphatic system is critical. I don't understand it. I shut down the implant. It can't be affecting his blood chemistry anymore, yet toxins are still accumulating in his lymphatic tissues. Computer, display analyses of all biochemical samples taken from the patient in the past thirty-nine hours. Display them by chemical composition. Isolate and display sample number seventeen. Bring up sample twenty three. Sample twenty seven. Sample thirty two. Sample thirty five. Sample forty. Stop. Bring back sample thirty five. Superimpose the molecular structure of this leukocyte with an analogous sample from yesterday. That's it. The molecular structure of Garak's leukocytes has been altered. That must be what's causing the accumulation of toxins in his system.
JABARA: Can we synthesise Cardassian leukocytes?
BASHIR: Probably, but that could take weeks and we don't have that much time. We have three or fours days at most.
JABARA: If we turn the implant back on, we might be able to keep him alive for another week or two.
GARAK: No.
BASHIR: What?
GARAK: I won't allow it. I never want that thing turned on again.
BASHIR: I understand how you feel, but I'm not sure what else I can do for you.
GARAK: You've done enough, Doctor. More than I deserve. There's something you have to know.
BASHIR: What's that?
GARAK: The truth.
BASHIR: I've about given up on learning the truth from you, Garak.
GARAK: Don't give up on me now, Doctor. Patience has its rewards. Now listen carefully. Elim wasn't my aide. He was my friend. We grew up together. We were closer than brothers. For some reason, Enabran Tain took a liking to us. Before long, we were both powerful men in the Obsidian Order. They called us the Sons of Tain. Even the Guls feared us. And then there was a scandal. Someone in the Order was accused of letting some Bajoran prisoners escape. There were constant rumours of who was going to be implicated. Fingers were being pointed at me. By then Tain had retired to the Arawath Colony. He couldn't protect me, so I panicked. I did everything in my power to make sure that Elim was accused instead of me. I altered records, planted evidence, only to discover that he'd beaten me to it.
BASHIR: He betrayed you first?
GARAK: Elim destroyed me. Before I knew what was going on, I was sentenced to exile. And the irony is, I deserved it. Oh, not for the reasons they claimed, but because of what I had tried to do to Elim, my best friend.
BASHIR: Why are you telling me this, Garak?
GARAK: So that you can forgive me. Why else? I need to know that someone forgives me.
BASHIR: I forgive you for whatever it is you did.
GARAK: Thank you, Doctor. That's most kind.
BASHIR: See that he rests comfortably. I'll be back within fifty two hours.
JABARA: Where are you going?
BASHIR: To find the man responsible for this.

[Tain's home]

(A DS9 runabout arrives at a planet and Bashir beams into a house. He starts looking around and is interested in a Cardassian computer console.)
TAIN: Doctor Bashir. Welcome. Please make yourself at home.
(After the break)
TAIN: Well, Doctor, you've come all this way to see me. Aren't you going to say something?
BASHIR: How did you know my name?
TAIN: Information's my business.
BASHIR: You're Enabran Tain.
TAIN: And you're Doctor Julian Subatoi Bashir. I hope you weren't greeted too rudely upon entering Cardassian space.
BASHIR: Not nearly as rudely as I expected.
TAIN: Good. I alerted them that you'd be coming. The military hates surprises. Still, what you did was very brave. I'm impressed. Can I get you something to drink? Tarkalean tea perhaps?
BASHIR: I always drink Tarkalean tea.
TAIN: A good host knows the needs of his guests. One Tarkalean tea, extra sweet, and a glass of kanar. So, Lieutenant, how's Garak? Has his condition improved at all?
BASHIR: That Cardassian Quark was talking to, Boheeka, I suppose he really did have a reason to fear the Obsidian Order.
TAIN: Everyone has reason to fear the Order.
BASHIR: I don't understand it. Garak told me you were retired.
TAIN: Oh, I am. Have been for years. But I try to keep informed on current events. I bet you could tell me all kinds of things I'd like to know, Doctor.
BASHIR: I'm sure I could. I'll tell you anything you want to know about medicine, biology or tennis. Do you want to hear my opinion on the latest nillimite alloy rackets?
TAIN: I don't think that will be necessary.
BASHIR: Have it your way.
TAIN: Are all the Starfleet Lieutenants as brash as you are?
BASHIR: I couldn't say, though I doubt it.
TAIN: So do I. Tell me, Doctor, how sick is Garak?
BASHIR: He's dying.
TAIN: And you're trying to save him.
BASHIR: That's right.
TAIN: Strange. I thought you were his friend.
BASHIR: I suppose I am.
TAIN: Then you should let him die. After all, for Garak, a life in exile is no life at all.
BASHIR: Say what you will, my job is to keep him alive, and I need your help.
TAIN: My help? What can I do?
BASHIR: The molecular structure of Garak's leukocytes has been disrupted. I need to synthesise replacements in order to stabilise his condition. Unfortunately, my knowledge of Cardassian biochemistry is severely limited.
TAIN: And you think I have access to that kind of information?
BASHIR: Information is your business. Besides, you're the one who ordered him to put that implant put in his head, aren't you?
TAIN: I never had to order Garak to do anything. That's what made him special. So, you're saying if you don't get the information, Garak dies?
BASHIR: That's it.
TAIN: Well, we can't allow that can we? I'll see to it that the necessary data is transferred to your station's computers.
BASHIR: Thank you.
TAIN: Don't thank me. I'm not doing Garak any favours. He doesn't deserve a quick death. On the contrary, I want him to live a long, miserable life. I want him to grow old on that station, surrounded by people who hate him, knowing that he'll never come home again.
BASHIR: What a lovely sentiment.
TAIN: And it's from the heart, I assure you. And now, Doctor, I really think you should be going.
BASHIR: One last thing.
TAIN: Make it brief.
BASHIR: Garak mentioned an old friend of his the other day, a member of the Obsidian Order. I was wondering what happened to him.
TAIN: Did he give you the name of this friend?
BASHIR: He said it was Elim.
TAIN: (chuckling) Elim?
BASHIR: Mind letting me in on the joke?
TAIN: I can see that Garak hasn't changed a bit. Never tells the truth when a lie will do. That man has a rare gift for obfuscation. Doctor, Elim is Garak's first name. Now run along home. And please, tell Garak that I miss him.
BASHIR: I'll be sure to give him the message. Computer, one to beam up. Energise.

[Replimat]

(Bashir is sitting alone, playing with his food.)
GARAK: May I join you?
BASHIR: Garak.
GARAK: Thank you.
BASHIR: What are you doing up? You're supposed to be in bed.
GARAK: Out of the question. I couldn't stand being cooped up in that dreadful infirmary for another second. Besides, I feel perfectly fine. So, how's the I'danian spice pudding today?
BASHIR: How's the spice pudding? Is that all you have to say for yourself? How can you just sit there and pretend that the last ten days never happened?
GARAK: I for one, Doctor, am perfectly satisfied with the way things turned out. And I see no need to dwell on what was doubtlessly a difficult time for both of us. By the way, I just had the most interesting conversation with Constable Odo. It seems he's under the impression that I was a member of the Obsidian Order.
BASHIR: What did you tell him?
GARAK: That he was mistaken, of course.
BASHIR: And he believed you?
GARAK: He said something about keeping a closer eye on me in the future. I told him to be my guest, I have nothing to hide. Here. I've brought you something.
(A memory stick)
BASHIR: What is it?
GARAK: Meditations on a Crimson Shadow by Preloc.
BASHIR: More Cardassian literature.
GARAK: I think you'll find this one more to your tastes. It takes place in the future during a time when Cardassia and the Klingon Empire are at war.
BASHIR: Who wins?
GARAK: Who do you think?
BASHIR: Never mind, don't tell me. I don't want you to spoil the ending. You know, I still have a lot of questions to ask you about your past.
GARAK: I've given you all the answers I'm capable of.
BASHIR: You gave me answers, all right, but they were all different. What I want to know is of all the stories you told me, which ones were true and which ones weren't?
GARAK: My dear Doctor, they're all true.
BASHIR: Even the lies?
GARAK: Especially the lies.