Chapter Text
"Garak," Bashir announced, in a voice that managed to be as triumphant as it was conspiratorial, "has feelings for me."
The emphasis he put on the word 'feelings'—combined with the sharp flash of teeth as he said it—put Kira in mind of someone brandishing a weapon they didn't know how to use. She stepped back, thinking that might put her out of reach. Unfortunately, Bashir's enthusiasm was a long-range tool, and also her hasty retreat had nearly tripped her into an open crate.
She tried to resign herself to being present for the impending conversation, but proved unable to summon a facial expression that wasn't a member of the grimace family.
"Doctor," she said, shifting her weight and casting a longing glance towards the door, "may I ask why, exactly, you're telling me this?"
"Don't you see?" Bashir exclaimed, making a shape in the air with his hands which he clearly believed was communicative.
He looked at Kira's face, upon which he must have seen some very clear evidence that she did not, in fact, see, because he hastily continued—in a tone which he lowered right along with his eyelids— "We can use this to our advantage."
Kira could feel her grimace transforming into the sort of incredulous smile she usually wore around Gul Dukat. "Our advantage."
"Yes!" Bashir said, making another expansive gesture around the cargo bay. "What better way to find out exactly what Garak knows than to have one of our officers,"—here he gestured, unnecessarily, to himself—"get into his good graces?"
"Well, they're certainly well-tailored graces," Kira replied, rubbing her temple. There was a pause as Bashir processed this statement which was then broken by his uncomfortable laughter.
"Major, please, it's not going to go that far," he said dismissively.
"How do you know how far it's going to have to go for you to get your information?" Kira asked. "What information are you even after? Have you given this any thought at all?"
“Well,” Bashir said, “well, no, not as such, ah, not yet, anyway, but—”
"Look, Doctor. I don't mean to sound like I don't have faith in you, but don't you think it might be better to leave this kind of thing to Starfleet Intelligence?" Kira said, attempting gentleness.
"Garak doesn't have a crush on Starfleet Intelligence!" Bashir burst out, flinging his arms and his lips outward in an explosive bodily pout.
"You know what," Kira said carefully, "I think your... mission will go a lot better without my help. No, hear me out! The less people who know about your plans, the less of a chance there is of one of us giving away information," she paused and delicately lowered her voice, "should we be captured."
Bashir's eyes widened to an extent she would not have thought possible. "You're right," he said in a harsh whisper, taking a step back and glancing around the cargo bay with fresh suspicion. "You're right, of course, major, I knew you'd have good advice for me. After all, you have experience with sabotage, don't you?" He offered her a ludicrous wink and tapped the side of his nose.
"Er. Yes," Kira said. "Lots."
"I was never here!" Bashir warbled, running into a crate on his way out. Kira found herself fervently wishing that that were really the case.