Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

…

“No, look, it’s just to get the story moving,” Jadzia says, holding out her hands imploringly. “Julian as his alter ego is engaged to marry this heiress, but it’s really—“

“I am not going to be his second choice on my enjoinment day,” Garak snaps.

“It’s just for the sake of the storyline—“

“He is NOT getting CLOSE to marrying anyone else, even in jest!” So saying, Garak stands up, completely incensed. He stalks to the bar and before their poor, scantily-clad bartender can so much as blink, has grabbed her head and snapped her neck.

“Garak!” Sisko yells, trying and failing to cover Jake’s eyes.

Garak pulls a knife from somewhere on his person and slides like a shadow out the door, glaring back at them before it shuts.

“Now we’re going to have a program littered with corpses,” Odo sighs.

“And we deserve it, for teasing a Cardassian who’s just given birth and was never in his right mind to begin with,” Kira says.

“Never thought I’d see the day you’d be on his side.”

“In this circumstance ONLY.”

“Dad, it’s a holosuite,” Jake says, rolling his eyes. “It’s like Garak just ripped a doll in half and went home. I’m fine.”

“It was a little more intense than that,” Sisko mutters darkly. “You should probably head out, until he’s done with his temper tantrum.”

“And leave you guys in charge of this? Really? I can fix it right now.” Jake stands up and dusts his hands off. “Agents Bashir and Garak are both attending a high class wedding as guests, to intercept a cipher that ends up being in the rings or the bride’s bouquet, we can figure out the details as we go, but they end up working together against a common enemy, triumphing, and getting married themselves.”

“Now that might work,” Odo says approvingly.

“That’s why you get writers involved when you’re planning a story.”

“Call off the Murder Lizard,” Jadzia says to Miles, who groans but gamely hits the in-game communicator.

“Falcon to Scaly Bastard, come in.”

Garak answers almost immediately. “That is not my moniker.”

“Oh, come on. Murderous Bastard?”

“I think the problem is the word “bastard,” or did you not realize why Garak is in such a hurry to get enjoined?” Odo asks.

“You’re being very insensitive to Garak’s situation, Chief,” Kira says.

“Sensitivity training for Miles! Sensitivity training for Miles!” Jadzia crows, with all the mean joy of someone who has undergone Federation sensitivity intervention more than once (thanks, Curzon).

“Oh, come on!”

“Would that be more or less painful than being stabbed?” Garak asks over the communicator.

Jadzia is only too happy to inform him: “It doesn’t hurt as much physically, but it lasts much, much longer. Hours if he doesn’t pay attention and answer the quizzes correctly.”

…

Chapter Text

…

Benjamin Sisko doesn’t rise particularly early; he appreciates whatever sleep he can get, whenever he can get it. But when his alarm does sound, he gets up, dons slippers, and begins his day.

Dons slippers, runs the toes of his left foot into something, and pulls his foot back out to turn the slipper upside down. A small replica creature falls out — a scorpion?

His closet door, partially open, is flung open the rest of the way. Jate Garak-Bashir stands in the opening, arms raised to the ceiling, as she roars in a voice that seems entirely too loud for such a small body.

“Jate,” Sisko says. He holds up the slipper and the scorpion in either hand.

“You’re dead!” Jate tells him triumphantly, scampering across the room. She hands him a white index card, upon which is written, in shaky Terran letters, ‘Scorpion in Shoe.’ “I assassinated Daddy last night. He can’t save you.”

“I see,” Sisko says. He looks down at the card. “What do I do with this?”

“You have to wear it,” Jate tells him, sounding a little exasperated. “So people know.”

“This is your birthday game,” Sisko realizes at last, and hangs his head. “I’m sorry, Jate. I haven’t had my coffee yet.”

“It’s okay.” Jate pats his shoulder. “You figured it out. Father says that’s what’s important.”

It takes effort, but Sisko doesn’t laugh. “Happy birthday,” he says instead, and hands her the scorpion while examining the card again. “I’ll make sure to pin this to my uniform.”

“Thank you,” she says, so sweetly and sincerely that he almost forgets she assassinated him.

…

Julian is in Ops, wearing a card that reads ‘Poison tooth Paste’ pinned to his chest with his comm badge.

“A nerve agent,” he’s telling Jadzia, who is thrilled. “Should have taken effect almost immediately. Garak was rather disappointed with me; said I should have known to replicate new toothpaste this morning.”

He knows he sounds ridiculously proud. Jadzia has already taken a holo with him, both of them pointing obnoxiously at the card. Of course they burst into applause when Sisko walks in, wearing his card, too.

“The ranking medical officer and the captain,” Miles muses, impressed. “Is Garak giving her lessons, or is she just a natural?”

“Come on, come on,” Jadzia says, wrangling Sisko and Julian together. She puts an arm around each of their shoulders and demands, “Kira! Take a holo.”

“How long are we dodging assassination attempts?” Kira asks, doing as requested. Jadzia squeals as she looks at the holo, inordinately pleased.

“Midnight,” Julian says. “Or until Garak catches her. That’s the failsafe for if she gets tired.”

“I hope she chose the best death for me,” Jadzia sighs. “I want to be disemboweled. Or tied to railroad tracks!”

“Railroad tracks?” Sisko repeats. “Are you watching old Earth films again?”

“They were better before the talkies,” she tells him, to all appearances completely serious.

“She just turned three,” Kira points out. “How much energy can she have?”

Miles looks very, very pained.

…

“How did your daughter break into my quarters?”

Garak is embroidering a little coral outfit that seems to be composed of cones. “Likely she stole Jake’s code, crept in after that strange signal prompted your late night visit to Ops, you remember: the signal that ended up being a battered old radio transmitter in one of the cargo bays?”

Sisko doesn’t allow his face to twitch. “You didn’t help her plan, did you?”

“And cheapen her victory?” Garak looks aghast. “Captain. I would never!”

Lussan, snuffling into Sisko’s neck, hooks him right above the collar with his tiny claws. This time, Sisko’s face does twitch. “How does Doctor Bashir handle this?”

Garak sighs, a dreamy look coming over his face. “He has some lovely scarring. It’s very attractive.”

He is going to stop asking questions he doesn’t want the answers to, Sisko promises himself.

…

Quark gets blown up, but refuses to wear the card. “I won’t encourage this,” he tells Julian, who is glaring at him over the bar. Jate’s lower lip is wobbling. Quark is not budging.

“How much business do you want to lose over this, Quark?” Odo asks, sighing heavily.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s Jate’s birthday,” Julian says, picking her up and letting her cuddle close. With no one else looking, Jate crosses her eyes at Quark and sticks out her tongue. “When people hear how you refuse to honor birthdays—“

“She’s three! She shouldn’t even be in my bar!” Quark wails.

“You’re not open yet,” Odo points out.

“So she’s trespassing. Throw her in jail.”

“I’ll tell Jadzia about this,” Julian warns, and watches Quark’s whole world burn down behind his eyes. Metaphorically, that is. He kind of wants to put an index card on the main entrance.

But Quark would not be Quark if he didn’t attempt a negotiation. “How about I put this in a frame and hang it up on the high shelf?” he asks Jate directly.

“A good frame,” she warns, and when he nods, she adds, “It needs a spotlight.”

“And I’ll design some themed drinks, maybe give a small discount to anyone else you murder,” Quark adds, starting to grin.

“Assassinate!” Julian hurriedly corrects. “We don’t use the M word.”

Jate and Quark exchange a look.

…

Miles dies in the Jeffries tubes, which are Jate’s preferred highways on regular days. On her birthday, she takes sole ownership of the whole station-wide system by stealing a padd from an ensign, finding the maintenance task schedule, and hunting down each Engineer as they go to work on their task. Miles, working on cable replacements for the transporter system, suddenly has a small Human-Cardassian hybrid child on his back, hugging him around the shoulders and chirpily announcing, “I strangled you!”

“Thanks, JGB,” Miles says, taking the card. The kids all think of nothing of Miles referring to them by their initials as a nickname. Julian knows it’s to twit him about Khami’s.

“I’m going to marry Keiko, okay?”

Jate’s face is adorably sincere. Miles nods. “That’s nice of you. She won’t want to be alone.”

“And then I can comb her hair,” Jate says to herself.

“You’ll also have to take care of Molly and Yoshi,” Miles tells her and, to his great amusement, she looks alarmed.

…

Jadzia gets a holo with Miles, too, before loudly announcing her intent to work in the lab for a while. In the three peaceful hours she is gone, Kira is eaten by voles in a supply closet, Morn is electrocuted at the Replimat, and the security team is bombed during an all-hands meeting. Odo and Jate aren’t sure if he’d survive the bombing, but they settle on Jate getting away — while writing out additional index cards. Jate had only had three ready.

“Do I not get to die?” Jadzia moans, staring at Kira’s card with naked envy.

“Not this year, I’m afraid,” Julian says, having come into Ops looking at a padd with a very sappy expression. The team crowds around to see the picture Garak has taken from above, showing Jate sleeping in his arms, curled into his chest with an angelically innocent face.

“Her reign of terror is over,” Worf says solemnly. He avoided three separate attempts on his life that morning and is pleased that the game is done.

“Bloody Marys are still half off for her victims at Quark’s,” Miles points out.

Jadzia sighs again.

…

Chapter Text

…

Jadzia has been making eyes at him incessantly. Once upon a time, Julian would have thought this meant he finally had a chance, and jumped right into her arms. Now he knows she’s trying to lecture him, and avoids it for three whole days.

So she makes an appointment for — “Gastrointestinal trouble and anxiety?” Julian reads aloud from the padd.

“Three raktajinos in as many hours will do that to you,” Jadzia says solemnly. “Thank you for teaching me about moderation, Doctor Bashir. You’re so intelligent and your bedside manner is fantastic.”

“I could be spending time with my family right now,” Julian points out, trying fruitlessly to guilt the guiltless.

‘Yes, about your family,” Jadzia says, sitting back on the bio-bed and crossing one leg ostentatiously over the other. “Your precious, lovely little family.”

“It is precious, isn’t it?” Julian asks, holding the padd defensively.

“So precious. So lovely.” Jadzia eyes him speculatively. “But little? Three is a lot of kids, Julian.”

“It’s not that many—“

“In less than three years?” Jadzia purses her lips and crosses her arms ostentatiously behind her head. Julian’s getting rather annoyed at all the crossing. “Are you trying to wear Garak out?”

“First of all, do you think I can get Garak to do anything he doesn’t want to do?” Julian demands. “I have had to suck that man to the root to get him to submit to routine laboratory testing!”

Jadzia’s mouth opens, then shuts. Her face reflects mild consternation, and Julian might enjoy that if he weren’t already so annoyed.

“Second of all, I have tried to withhold my penis! He has threatened me with divorce! A Cardassian, a people who don’t even believe in divorce, who think divorce is some kind of mental illness specific to the Federation, has threatened divorce over lack of access to my penis! And every time I try to enter that into some kind of public record he hacks said record and deletes it! He found it IN MY MEDICAL NOTES.”

“Are you adding it to the notes on this appointment?” Jadzia asks, making a mental note to get Julian a tacky t-shirt that reads “DICK SO GOOD LACK OF ACCESS MEANS DIVORCE” for his next birthday, and Julian scoffs.

“Of course I am! And third, it’s none of your business. It’s none of your business! You don’t even babysit my children. You give them sweets and drop them off with Captain Sisko — do not lie to me, you did that yesterday and you told me you were doing it!”

“The Grand Nagus was here and wanted to play Tongo,” Jadzia grouses. “I shared my winnings!”

“You gave my children MORE sweets.”

“I’m just worried that you guys aren’t considering the complications of parenthood, especially in wartime, especially with as many kids as you’re having, and this close together,” Jadzia blurts out as fast as she can, so that Julian can’t interrupt. “Julian, please. I’ve been mothers, I’ve been fathers—“

“And I haven’t!” Julian cries out, tossing the padd in his passion. “And this is the only chance I’m going to get to!”

Jadzia’s mouth hangs open again. Julian sits down, with some force, on the bio-bed next to her.

“Jadzia. Dax. Listen.” He draws in a deep breath. “Garak and I are going to do stupid things. A lot of them. We’re going to make mistakes, and we’re going to take stupid, stupid chances. And you have to let us do it. We only get the one, all right? We’re just… we’re just seeing where this takes us. No one knows what tomorrow looks like, no one knows how many kids Garak can actually have. We’re just… we’re just seeing how it goes.”

They sit in silence for a minute, and then Jadzia lays her hand over Julian’s. He looks up at her, at her kind, thoughtful smile.

“Can I say I told you so later?” she asks.

Julian smiles back, because he can’t help it. “Yes. Later.”

…

After Julian gives Garak his clean bill of health, and Miles spends an evening telling everyone they don’t want to hear about what happened on Empok Nor, and Nog asks some questions about some phrasing Garak was using on Empok Nor that pretty much lets everyone know exactly what was happening on Empok Nor and incidentally in the Garak-Bashir marital bed, Jadzia gets a pair of raktajinos and offers one to Julian after he drops Khami off for his special briefing with Captain Sisko.

“Can I say I told you so now?” she asks, and Julian almost spits out the raktajino.

“What? What for?”

“Your husband killed two special murder unit soldiers and told Miles O’Brien enough about your sex life to embarrass me, a joined Trill who was once Curzon Dax, while under the influence of a psychotropic drug. Are you still just seeing how it goes?”

Julian is bright red. “Yes, actually,” he says stiffly.

Jadzia nods sagely. “So not now…?”

“Now, no.”

…

After Julian staggers out of the Infirmary, clutching four hyposprays and lugging enough baggage under his eyes to clothe a family of four for a week, Jadzia falls into step with him on his way back to his quarters, where his family still lies sick abed.

“Now?” she asks, and Julian stops, looking at her in confusion. “Can I say I told you so now?”

Julian’s jaw drops. “Now? No!”

And he marches on to single-handedly save the Garak-Bashir household.

…

After reporting to Sisko, Jadzia heads to a meeting with Miles’ team to organize the repairs to the Defiant. On the way, she catches sight of Julian, heading to the Infirmary, maybe, or the Replimat.

“Now?” she calls out to him, and Julian turns, confusion writ on his face. She gestures to her own abdomen, miming a large, pregnant belly. “Twins, I heard. Can I say I told you so now?”

Julian sputters and curses, finally coming up with, “Not now, no!”

…

Three days after the war has ended, peace declared, Garak insisting he’s going to help rebuild Cardassia, his and Julian’s brood of six Human-Cardassian Hybrids busy with Jake and Ziyal, Julian opens the door to the Garak-Bashir family quarters to find it full of balloons, streamers, and a great big banner that reads: “I TOLD YOU SO.”

Jadzia has also custom-ordered a cake. It too reads “I told you so,” but in smaller letters, in multiple languages, all curling around the frosted edges in various colors.

She pops a champagne bottle as soon as his defeated gaze meets hers, and smiles.

…

Chapter Text

…

Garak slams Julian back against the wall, wrestling the pistol from his hand and tossing it into the little canal to their right. “Give it up, Bashir. You can’t escape me.”

Julian squirms as Garak leans into him, gasping when he presses a sharp little bite to the hinge of his jaw. “You — you assume I’m trying to escape, then?” he asks, and gets his teeth on Garak’s neck ridges. He’s fast enough at it that Garak isn’t ready and jumps, a lovely little moan breaking free from his mouth.

He pulls Julian’s arms up sharply and then holds him there, pins him with one hand by his wrists. In the small alleyway by the canal, no one notices the enemy agents tangled in the shadows of the holosuite night.

“Then you’re giving in,” he purrs, sliding his hand between their bodies and cupping Julian’s groin. “How delicious.”

Julian writhes, but the pressure is inescapable. “Not — not giving in. I’m — ah! Negotiating.”

Garak sucks hard on Julian’s neck, making him cry out. “Giving me everything I want is a negotiating tactic? Remind me to negotiate with you more often. Maybe every night.”

Julian’s getting close, and it’s been days since they’ve been able to get away, to have a little time to themselves. He wants to get off, but he wants Garak to come, too. “Wait, wait. Let me—“

A sharp trill of Julian’s comm badge has them freezing, and then Julian groans, hitting his head back against the simulated brick wall. “Oh no please. I can’t.”

Garak eases off him and taps his badge. “Garak and Bashir.”

“Elac is vomiting colors and Auntie Ziyal is crying,” Daska’s solemn little voice reports.

“We’ll be there imminently,” Garak tells her, and ends the comm. “Your—“

“Your son,” Julian says faster. He adjusts his tuxedo as best he can and they hightail it for Ziyal’s studio.

The scene that greets them is mildly chaotic: Elac and Ije are on a colorful mat, surrounded by canvases, markers, crayons, chalk; just about any kind of nontoxic, child-safe art medium in existence. Elac, covered in colorful vomit that has stuck despite obvious attempts to clean him up, is screaming. Ije is glaring at him.

Ziyal is sitting on a stool a small distance away, head in her hands, and Daska is patting her knee comfortingly. There’s a small lumpy vase on the table near them which appears to be Daska’s project, as it is halfway through a multi-shades of pink makeover.

As they walk in, Ziyal wails, “He won’t stop eating chalk!”

Julian scoops Elac up, cooing to him as he cries and cries. Garak crouches down by Ije, who has a small container of brightly colored crackers that she’s holding quite close to her little body, glaring defensively.

“Put him down,” he tells Julian, who has just managed to get Elac to settle. “Let’s see what’s happening.”

“He’s eating chalk, that's what’s happening,” Julian snaps.

“We can’t teach him if we don’t witness the behavior,” Garak points out, and Julian groans but sets Elac back down, carefully easing his tail out of the way. Elac looks around in surprise, gives a gape-mouthed grin to Garak, and then focuses on Ije.

He reaches out a hand, opening and closing it, and starts to cry again — very much fake, very much attention-grabbing. Ije, glaring at him, holding her crackers out of reach, grabs a bit of pink chalk and puts it in his hand.

“May the State protect us,” Garak intones as Julian intercepts Elac’s immediate attempt to shove the chalk in his mouth. “Ije. Do not feed your brother chalk.”

Ije turns her glare to Garak while Julian goes to the replicator, Elac wailing in his ear.

“If you’re hungry, darling, say something,” Julian reproves gently, ordering a bowl of crackers for Elac. “Don’t try to take your sister’s food. There’s enough for everybody.”

Elac stops yelling and grabs the bowl, smiling triumphantly. Ije’s glare does not waver. Julian sets him down again, watching him grab a cracker in either hand and shove them into his mouth. Then he chews, stares straight at Ije, opens his mouth with a little “blagh” sound, and allows the messy cracker paste to drool out of his mouth in much the same way the chalk had.

“Elac, what the hell is wrong with you?” Julian demands, then hides his face in his hands. “I did not just say that to my child.”

“You still can’t feed him chalk,” Garak tells Ije, very seriously.

…

Chapter Text

...

Julian is in a research spiral.

He knows it. Garak knows it. Really the whole station knows it. Ije, a sound day sleeper and night-time terror, stays curled up in a wrap around Julian’s torso while Elac, at little more than five months old, is already climbing up cabinets in the Infirmary and throwing himself off them onto unsuspecting nurses and, twice now, Odo.

But this Teplan Blight. If someone had engineered such a disease in him, in their children…

Julian is up around 0600, waking up with Lussan tapping his face for breakfast. He can leave Ije and Elac with Garak for the next hour or so while the older children get their days started, Lussan sternly forcing Julian to shave before curling up on his lap and rubbing his forehead under his dad’s chin. His little scalp is very sensitive, and only Julian can manage to coax the snarls out of his curls without a fight.

Khami will braid Jate’s hair while she reads whatever Garak has assigned to her for the day. He helps her with longer, more complicated words and passages, with a patience Julian is sure he’s never had. Garak disagrees, stating his belief that Khami is a smaller, more Cardassian version of Julian. He calls Khami’s passionate, stubborn moods “Bashir Mode.” It’s very annoying.

But Elac’s antics (crawling on top of his father, biting his face) will eventually have Garak up, carrying the twins and whatever wrap Daska has decided Julian will wear them in that day. Ije, having been most active between midnight and 0400, will now be settling in to snooze, tucked up tightly against her dad’s warmth. Elac will ride Julian’s shoulder, clinging with his tiny claws and chewing cheerfully on his ear or hair.

Around 0800, Julian makes it to his office in the Infirmary and takes the few patients who need either more complex or immediate treatment, since Girani is slowly but surely taking over. But for the most part he can wrap up Ije tight, set up a few obstacles and some netting to keep Elac entertained, and replicate as many snacks and teas as are necessary to get a good two hours of research in. He occasionally has to warn the nurses that Elac is up on top of the cabinets and preparing to Death From Above them. Jabara scolds Julian and Elac each intensely in Bajoran every single time, and it makes the baby crack up.

Daska brings her completed projects from Garak’s shop or Ziyal’s studio, usually around 1100, and Julian takes a break to praise them and sometimes model them — Daska, who loves pink to distraction, has designed any number of wraps, mantles, and capes that Garak helps her bring to Julian-sized life. And then, oh, the fake nails Ziyal helped her design! Julian had bright pink, seashell-bedazzled claws for a week, until he had an emergency surgery to perform and had had to remove them. Daska’s already working on a new set, in Science blue. Jadzia desperately wants them.

1200 is lunch. Even Jate, who otherwise has a very busy and dynamic schedule of terrorizing the station, meets the family for lunch. Julian certainly can’t miss it. Garak leads discussions on what the children have been assigned to read, questions and challenges them, and Julian helps them articulate their answers and pose questions back.

Jate usually drags Julian to the holosuites after lunch, sometimes with the other children, but sometimes it’s just her and Julian, exploring different locations on Earth. Jate is fascinated by Earth’s famously volatile weather patterns of yore, and Julian, who has never in his life experienced a blizzard, a hurricane, or a tornado, now knows intimately how terrifying they are. These extreme weather scenarios are for just the two of them, though; when the smaller children are with them, Jate has them exploring cities and gardens.

She really is so sweet. Julian doesn’t believe half of what Odo says she gets up to. He believes even less of what Quark has to say.

At this point, Julian can grab a few more hours for research and collaboration with other Federation doctors working on the Blight while Ije and Elac nap together, curled up like kittens in the wrap. Lussan joins them around 1600, working on his occupational therapy — he’s still having some trouble with coordination, and he and Julian work together on the little projects Miles builds for him: puzzles, locks, and other toys designed to help him with fine motor control. At some point Elac will wake up and try to eat the shiny little tool set Miles made for Lussan, which signals the natural transition to dinner time.

Julian leaves his tests and models running, locks up his office, and brings the children to Garak’s shop. Khami, Jate, and Daska join them eventually, and sometimes their friends join as well, and Garak assigns the readings and mathematical work for the next day. Dinner is a spirited affair wherever they decide to take their repast, and all of the children argue and talk over each other or just scream in delighted baby fashion. Lussan, who doesn’t speak yet, uses Cardassian signal-code and taps on Jate’s or Julian’s arms to join the conversation.

Julian has just enough time after dinner to go back and check on his computer models or answer the last comms of the day before Khami joins him to read Terran literature and practice his Federation Standard — and, currently, English — pronunciation. They’re working their way through the Lord of the Rings, which Garak hates with a passion and yet is compulsively reading on his own. He’s started the Silmarillion.

(Julian has sixty-something comms from Garak, most of which he hasn’t even opened, full of passionate criticism. Julian hasn’t read the Silmarillion. He doesn’t know who Feanor is, or why Garak hates him so much.)

They read together until Jate comes to collect them for bedtime, and Julian, who has never in his life had to practice moderation around research, must take a solid four hour break until he and Ije can sneak back out of the family bed. So this is his first sleep shift, after which he takes Ije out onto whichever room isn’t being utilized (sometimes Khami or Jate will want to sleep alone, or with just each other) so that she can growl and crawl and gnaw on blankets and soft Human fingers. Julian thinks Ije might have some sensitivities, like Lussan does.

His second sleeping shift, crawling back into the family bed, is around 0400 to 0600. Six broken hours probably isn’t enough, even for an Augmented Human, but their friends help out here and there, taking the children for reading or writing lessons, art lessons, Klingon martial arts lessons… Julian suspects he’s getting more sleep on this schedule than he would be if he didn’t have his family to think of, if he was allowed to just be in his research spiral, devoting himself single-mindedly to curing the Teplan Blight.

He doesn’t know how long it would have taken to discover the truth of it, that there is no cure, in such a fashion. He doesn’t know how long it would have taken to discover that an antigen given to those women who are pregnant can prevent the blight from being passed onto their children.

But in this life, in this fashion, Julian is able to recommend a course of treatment in as little as two and a half months.

…

Chapter Text

…

Jadzia is in the lab when she feels little claws tap her leg, and she looks down to find Lussan staring up at her, his glasses giving his pretty blue eyes a slight purple sheen. “Well, hello, Little Lucy. Who let you in here?”

“Peas,” he says to her, and taps her thigh again. Jadzia puts her hand down for him to take, and is led to the replicator.

Lussan doesn’t talk much. Khami was speaking in full sentences before the age of one, and Jate and Daska did shortly after. He communicates just fine with his family, though, and Jadzia is determined to be a beloved aunt to the Garak-Bashir children. So if Lussan is wandering the station looking for someone to get him peas, by the stars Jadzia will get him some peas.

Except that when she hands him a small bowl of them, Lussan stares at them in horror and refuses to take them, tapping her leg more insistently and saying “peas!” with growing anxiety.

Luckily, Kira happens to be checking in — possibly wanting to escape Ops, what with Benjamin getting baby-fever from all the Garak-Bashirs wandering around and sighing loudly and calling Kassidy all the time — and sees Jadzia’s panic. “What’s going on?”

“Lussan wants something from the replicator, and he’s saying peas, but he does not want peas,” Jadzia explains. Lussan, hearing Kira at the door, turns to her and raises his arms, great big tears forming at the outer corner of his eyes — fake, Jadzia knows, though Garak finds it offensive when Julian calls them crocodile tears, which just makes Julian do it more often.

Kira falls for them every time. “Oh no, little barrowbug. Come here,” she croons, and picks up Lussan and cuddles him close. Lussan buries his face against her neck and sniffs loudly.

“Peas,” he says again, tapping on her chest.

“Call Julian,” Kira orders Jadzia, who groans and tries — only to get a computerized notification that Doctor Bashir is in surgery.

“Computer, can you locate Garak?” Jadzia tries, but as always when it isn’t Julian or one of the children looking for him, the computer refuses to acknowledge that any such resident exists. It’s one of Garak’s little tricks to keep his family safe, as the computer won’t recognize the children as residents without Garak or Julian asking, and it’s incredibly frustrating for everyone else on board.

“Let’s go to Garak’s shop, then,” Kira sighs, and hefts Lussan a bit higher. As they move away from the replicator, though, Lussan whines loudly and taps even more insistently — this time on Kira’s face. “Ouch! Lussan, buggy. Stop.”

“Peas,” he cries, and reaches out one little clawed hand for the replicator. “Peas!”

“Chief,” Jadzia says, touching her comm badge, “please come in. Lussan needs assistance.”

“What’s happening, LGB?” Miles asks immediately.

“He wants something from the replicator, keeps saying peas, but he doesn’t want peas,” Jadzia explains. “Can’t get ahold of Julian, and you know how Garak keeps his family’s name out of the computer’s mouth.”

“Yeah, right. Well, I can check the replication history from — oh, for fuck’s sake.”

There’s a long silence in which Jadzia and Kira stare at each other in tempered alarm, before Kira says, “Chief?”

Miles sounds completely done. “I tried to check the replication history for the Kid GBs and now I’m in a system lock-out for thirty minutes, presumably so that Garak can hunt me down and kill me. Great. Lovely day I’m having. LGB, your father is a nut.”

“Peas,” Lussan whispers.

The comm abruptly ends and a very, very welcome voice starts a new one. “Dax? This is Bashir. Something up?”

“Please come to the lab, Lussan needs help,” Jadzia says before she thinks twice, and winces when Kira punches her in the arm. There’s the electronic fizz of transport, and Julian is in the room, face pale and hands already outstretched to his son.

“Lussan, honey, what’s wrong?” he demands.

“All right, I’m sorry, that sounded a lot more dramatic than it was meant to,” Jadzia sighs, and pinches the bridge of her nose.

Lussan is happy to lean into his dad’s arms, though, and starts tapping him on the chest. “Peas! Peas.”

“He doesn’t want peas, though,” Jadzia explains yet again. “I tried.”

“He’s saying please,” Julian tells her, catching Lussan’s hand and kissing it, telling him, “I got it, honey. He’s using Cardassian signal-code, the tapping spells out words.” He steps up to the replicator and confidently orders, “One yellow tulip, full bloom, and one red tulip, full bloom.”

Two beautiful, large, fully bloomed tulips appear, and Lussan squeals and claps his hands together. Julian picks them up, bringing them close to Lussan with just the sweetest, most loving smile on his face. “He’s very polite, you see. Always says please. And he loves tulips, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Tu,” Lussan breathes, and carefully frames the yellow tulip with his hands, cupping it in his palms.

“Yes, tulips,” Julian coos, and his smile only grows larger and more indulgent as Lussan crushes the tulip in his little grip, squishing it into yellow smeared oblivion. Kira and Jadzia watch in silent shock as he brings his fists up to his nose and sniffs loudly, then beams up at his dad adoringly.

“Was that fun? Did you love that?” Julian croons, and presses his forehead to Lussan’s. Then he has to quickly add, “No, no, we don’t lick it, we don’t eat the tulip. Brush it off, brush brush brush. Good job!”

“You know, I don’t miss having kids,” Jadzia says to Kira. Lussan is reaching for the red tulip now, his smile wide and bright.

…

Chapter Text

…

There is a Garak-Bashir procession down the Promenade one early afternoon, beginning with Jate and Elac. The former is holding the latter, one arm around his waist, so that he hangs perpendicular to her body. She is singing, “Elac! Out the airlock! We’ll throw him! Out the airlock!” as she swings his body back and forth. Elac, for his part, is shrieking and laughing, waving arms and legs wildly.

Daska and Lussan come next, holding hands, Daska looking very concerned and Lussan looking downright frightened. He seems to believe Elac is for the airlock.

Khami and Ije bring up the rear. He is solemn and dignified; she is cuddled tight to his chest, face half-hidden, but what is visible is very, very angry. They march in this fashion to the Security Office, where Odo sits at his desk, awaiting them.

Jate swings Elac upright and deposits him in front of Odo’s desk, steadying him so that he can remain standing upright. “I bring you a criminal.”

“A criminal?” Odo repeats, raising an eyebrow at Elac’s cheerfully defiant expression. “What crime has he committed?”

As the other children range around, Jate tells Odo the sad story: “Elac threw Ije’s glass slug terrarium and broke two of her figurines.”

“Crime!” Ije growls from Khami’s arms.

“Is that true?” Odo asks Elac.

“I don’t want to play with slugs,” Elac flares at him. “They’re stupid!”

“It sounded like Ije was playing with the slugs,” Odo says slowly.

“She needs to play with me! I don’t like slugs. They’re boring!” Elac insists, crossing his arms over his little chest.

“Why does Ije need to play with you?” Odo asks. “It seems to me, if you’re rude to her and break her things, she won’t want to play with you ever again.”

That seems to stump Elac, who blinks at him and then looks up at Jate. Jate shrugs and nods, and Elac looks at the other children wildly. “But she has to play with me! She’s my sister!”

“Hate you,” Ije growls, and hides her face in Khami’s chest.

“Constable Odo, what is the crime committed?” Khami asks politely.

Odo takes a moment to consider. “Elac threw Ije’s terrarium, and broke two figurines. The crime is property damage.”

“So we throw him out the airlock,” Jate says stoutly. Elac stomps his foot and Lussan whines in distress, pressing closer to Daska.

“We do not throw people out the airlock for committing property damage,” Odo tells her gravely.

“Kukalaka.”

The children all look at Ije, who is sitting up straight in Khami’s arms now, vengeance shining in her face. She says, “Throw Kukalaka out the airlock.”

“No!” Lussan gasps, clutching Daska now.

“Daddy would be so sad,” Daska whispers, clutching Lussan back.

Ije points her finger at her brother like she’s calling down a curse. “Elac throw Kukalaka out the airlock.”

The expression on each of the children’s faces is magnificent. Khami and Jate are horrified and impressed; Daska and Lussan are on the verge of tears. Elac, jaw dropped, stomps his foot again and yells, “No! No, I won’t!”

Ije says nothing more, just continues to point at Elac silently, eyes gleaming.

“I won’t!” Elac shouts again, getting hysterical. “I won’t do it! I won’t!”

“Elac,” Jate says, and he bursts into loud sobs, throwing himself on the ground. Lussan starts crying next, and Daska holds him even closer, petting his hair and blinking hard against her own urge to cry. Khami is blinking, too, but he seems more on the verge of laughter than tears.

“I’m sorry!” Elac wails, getting on his knees. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

Lussan is sobbing. Tears are streaming down Daska’s face. Jate and Khami are studiously avoiding looking at each other. Odo doesn’t know what to do, and is considering protective custody for himself, when Ije pushes against Khami’s chest and he sets her down.

Ije goes to Elac, who grows quiet at her approach and stands up. They look at each other for a long moment, Elac sniffing loudly, and then Ije holds up her hands, palms forward.

Elac wipes his nose on his sleeve and then presses his palms to hers, and Ije says, “Okay.” They press their foreheads together and Lussan’s sobs taper off. Daska wipes her eyes with a bright pink handkerchief she pulls out of her sleeve.

“So we’re not throwing Kukalaka out the airlock?” Jate asks, just to be sure.

“It’s okay,” Ije repeats, and Elac smiles tentatively at her.

“Oh thank god.”

The children turn to see their daddy in the open Security Office doorway, hand to his chest, and their father, hand covering his face.

…

Chapter Text

…

“Daddy, when you are getting divorced?” Jate asks, and Julian about fumbles Lussan and his kal-toh right off his lap.

“Excuse me?” he sputters, looking around wildly. “Elim?”

Garak, sitting across the room with Daska, combing her long hair into a set of complicated braids, likewise looks stunned. “Jate, darling. What?”

“Humans get divorced, don’t they?” Jate appeals to him. Khami looks up from his book, one of Garak’s heavy tomes, with too-wise eyes, and Julian narrows his own at him.

“I’ll kill him first,” Garak tells her.

“Elim!” Julian yells.

Daska, sitting like a little princess in her father’s lap, says stoutly, “I’ll put him in jail.”

Garak nods sagely. “That’s a better idea.”

“You, too.”

Garak does a double-take and pulls on her newest braid gently. “Excuse me?”

“No killing,” Daska tells him.

“Honey, no one is going to jail,” Julian tells Lussan, who is tapping frantically on his arm.

“Daddy in one cell, Father in the other,” Daska continues, and Garak leans forward, trying to catch her eye. She ignores him, lifting her chin haughtily. “No talking, no KISSING. Only looking.”

“How am I to win back his affections in such a setup?” Garak demands.

Daska tilts her head, considering. “Dancing.”

Julian bursts into laughter, trying to hide it in Lussan’s curls. “Oh, yes. That’ll do it!”

“I’ll have you know I’m an excellent dancer,” Garak huffs, and Julian leers at him.

“Jate’s just jealous that Captain Sisko is marrying Captain Yates,” Khami explains, going back to his book.

“I thought you were going to marry Keiko,” Julian says, surprised.

Jate sighs loudly, rolling her eyes. “Chief told me the kids are non— non—“

“Nonnegotiable,” Khami supplies.

“That,” Jate says, gesturing to Khami. “And I don’t want to take care of Molly and Kirayoshi. I have enough on my plate.”

“Do you really,” Garak says, amused, going back to combing Daska’s hair. “What exactly do you think is on your plate, my dear?”

Ije abandons her slugs on the floor and goes to Khami, who lifts her up. “Again,” she says, putting her hand on his lips. “Nah?”

“Nonnegotiable,” Khami repeats slowly, letting her feel how his mouth moves.

“Nah no,” she repeats, looking frustrated. Khami says it again, and Ije still struggles: “No GO show.”

“Means no arguments,” Julian offers, stroking Lussan’s curls. Lussan has wrapped both arms around Julian’s neck, still worried that he might be taken into custody. “Take it or leave it.”

Ije turns to stare at him, eyes lighting up. “Take it leave it.”

“Take it OR leave it.”

“Take it leave it,” Ije says firmly. She stands up on Khami’s lap, pleased as anything, and gives the delighted wordless shriek she employs when very excited. “Take it leave it!”

Elac, who has been quietly building an obstacle course for Ije’s slugs out of books, padds, utensils, and anything else he could purloin from around their quarters this entire time, pipes up: “What’s divorced?”

“Crime,” Ije says complacently. Garak has to put the comb down, trying to hide his laughter as Julian glares at him.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jate tells him authoritatively. “It’s a grown-up thing. You have to be married first.”

“Ew,” Elac says succinctly, making a face.

…

Later, after the children have been put to bed, Julian says, “So our daughter tried to negotiate Miles’ and Keiko’s divorce.”

“Hm?” Garak looks up from the thick sheaf of papers he calls his accounts. “Better than orchestrating an accidental death, isn’t it?”

Julian shakes his head. “And you wanted fourteen of them. Can you imagine?”

“To be honest, I didn’t think your temperament would breed so true,” Garak tells him, and has to dodge a thrown pillow.

…