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Prompt from @eilupt on Tumblr: “I got the groceries, but I couldn’t read the last thing on your list. Is this even close?"
***
For the past three years, Dr. Julian Bashir had been living on Cardassia, helping the people recover from the devastation the Dominion had left in their wake following their defeat. In that time, he had been learning how to read and write the Kardasi he had learned to speak back on Deep Space Nine. His letters weren’t as beautiful or as flowing as Garak’s, though the speed and confidence with which he wrote was getting better. His reading, too, improved, so much so, that today’s impromptu immersion task, sans universal translator, was to go grocery shopping in the open air market with a list Garak had hastily written before rushing out of their house to attend to an urgent matter at the Governmental Plaza.
“But Garak...” Julian had protested, glancing over the list, despair growing as his lover’s writing became less and less legible the further down the list he got.
“No time, my dear. I’m sure you’ll do fine. Until later.” And he’d swept out of the room, his council robes billowing behind him as though he had not a care in the world.
‘Well, of course, he didn’t,’ thought Julian bitterly; ‘He’s not the one who has to brave the markets at this time of the morning.’
Julian had stood in their main room, list in hand, for several moments, fighting back the growing panic in his chest. Until now, he’d only ever gone shopping with Garak, or that one time with Dr. Parmak. And hadn’t that been an interesting experience? It was perhaps the third shopping trip that Julian had been on himself, and he’d returned red faced after nearly every little old Cardassian lady they’d met asked increasingly intrusive questions into he and Garak’s love lives, all the while Parmak had stood by with the biggest grin on his face as he translated. That had been months ago, the hospital taking up more time than giving him any off, but that was the way of it with the reconstruction efforts. First there had been the dead and injured to take care of, then the deaths that had followed from illness as infrastructure was rebuilt. Then, when everything had stabilized, with aid from allies and former enemies, there had been the baby boom, expected and relished, how he loved helping to bring wanted children into the world, but exhausting none the less.
‘I guess there’s nothing for it but to get going.’ Julian thought to himself, shaking his way back to the present and pushing the anxiety aside. He’d seen Garak ordering everything, had practiced, and he could just hand the list to someone and ask for help if he truly needed to. Little old ladies might be inquisitive but they were very maternal and tended to take anyone out of their depth under their wing.
Much like their neighbor, Saco Kendek, who waved to him as he left the house, a wave of oppressive heat hitting him in the face as he left the relative cool of the shadows and moved into the street. She didn’t speak a lick of Federaji, but she made her views known when something came up. He waved back and continued to the market, a town square with tents of every color imaginable showcasing the produce from the fields that now surrounded every city on Cardassia Prime. One of Garak’s better ideas, to have each city surrounded by fields that could feed the populace of a given city, with plenty left over for those who preferred the rural life. It also allowed for excess produce to be stored and kept in case of an emergency.
There were other Federation volunteers wandering the markets, some he recognized from the hospital and briefly chatted as he shopped. First thing on the list had been zabu meat, then iole, and docxi, etilery root…rajuwi and…was that pule? No, that wasn’t in season, it had to be punli.
‘So far, so good.’ Julian thought as he checked off each item, feeling quite proud of himself at the moment. ‘Now for the last…what the hell?’
The last item had been scrawled so hastily that there was no way to decipher it, it resembling no more than the chicken scratch that typically epitomized a doctor’s handwriting (even his writing wasn’t that bad), but Garak had been in a hurry, but couldn’t he have just told him what the last item was?
“You look like you could use some help, young man.” came the voice of Eshi Daat, in her stall beside him. He hadn’t even noticed where he was, let alone that he was in that part of the market. Mrs. Daat had a reputation for being a gossip, and Garak had often been ensnared in conversation with her when they went to market, only able to extricate himself after feigning some governmental business.
Julian looked around, trying desperately to find someone else that could help him, and only then noticed that he’d spent most of the morning doing the shopping, dawdling between stalls as he examined the new arrivals. And of course, he’d spoken to some of the other Federation volunteers who were also doing their shopping. Garak would be home for lunch soon, and if he wasn’t back yet, well, he’d dawdled before and ended up with a security detail finding him and a friend chatting in a little park near the hospital. It had been rather embarrassing being escorted home, like some errant child, but times had been rougher then.
Finally giving in, he smiled ruefully and handed over the list, his second tongue all respect and contrition, his head lowered as he glanced up at her (no small feat given he stood nearly 2 feet taller than her hunched form!). She took the list in her gnarled fingers, tracing each shape as though she could stroke the words into legibility. And when she finally met his gaze, there was an odd twinkle in her eye (she’d lost the other during the Fire), that probably should have concerned him if he weren’t so eager to get home, or so busy checking to make sure no security detail was bearing down on him that he wasn’t looking. She cuffed him lightly upside the head to get his attention, and handed him a round gourd.
They’d haggled a price, for which Julian was certain he was not paying the correct price.
‘Too high or too low, that can’t be the right price.’ Julian thought as he made his way home, but he’d done it. He’d braved the market and gotten most, if not all of the list. That was something to be proud of, wasn’t it? And his Kardasi hadn’t been commented on like it had been on previous visits, so either his accent was getting better or the vendors were more used to it.
“Are you just getting in?” Garak asked, as he walked in the door, shutting it behind him with his foot. Worry was written in the lines of his face, the twitch of the tip of his tail.
“I lost track of time, love.” Julian reassured him, handing the bags over. Julian collapsed onto the couch with a heavy, relieved sigh. It was good to be off his feet and out of the heat.
“Julian!” Garak’s voice came from the kitchen.
“Shit, what did I forget?” Julian muttered as he hauled himself up.
“Did I forget something?” he asked as he entered the kitchen only to find Garak with the gourd fruit in his hands and a strange look on his face.
“Where did you get this?”
“Umm, Mrs. Daat sold it to me. Look, I got the groceries, but I couldn’t read the last thing on your list. Is this even close? This is what Mrs. Daat said it was.”
The last thing he would have expected was for Garak to throw back his head, laughing with pure delight. And when he continued laughing, holding onto the countertop for support as he bent over, the gourd cradled close to his chest, Julian couldn’t help but fidget, shifting from one foot to the other, as he tried to figure out what exactly was so funny.
“Look Garak, I get that I can’t read Kardasi as well as you can, but if you could stop laughing at me for a moment and take into account the list you left me…”
Garak grasped his shoulder, stopping the flood of indignation as he tried to regain his breath.
“Oh my dear…my very dear doctor. The last item was idasis’c, a root from the Northern provinces, one of Parmak’s favorites, truth be told. It’s rather similar to your sweet potato, but…oh! Never…never did I think that it could be misread as this.” His merriment continued as he gently placed the gourd on the countertop with something approaching reverence. Then he stilled and turned a quizzical look on his human.
“Or perhaps you are aware of the significance of this particular fruit? Is there something you are trying to ask me?”
“Only for you to explain, Garak.” Julian ran a hand over his face, trying to will the heat that rose unbidden from the unmistakable spark that lit Garak’s eyes just now.
“Ah, so you don’t know this particular fruit? Given only to prospective mates, because of its rarity?”
Julian’s mind blanked as his mouth dropped open, his eyes unblinking as he tried to understand what had just been said. Oh he understood the words, individually, separately, in and of themselves. But together, in this particular formation, they refused to make sense.
“I guess not.” Garak muttered to himself, though there was an odd catch in his voice that Julian couldn’t quite place. “Really, Mrs. Daat has no business interfering. But I suppose it’s done now. And, truly, she couldn’t have know…”
And from within the cooling unit, he withdrew a similar gourd and placed it next to Julian’s on the counter, turning to face him, with his arms outstretched and head bowed.
“My dear, you have made my life a brighter place these long years. Would you,…could you…consider making our arrangement permanent?”
Given the heat, and the lack of food and water he’d had that day (really, Julian, you’re a doctor, you should know better); the worry of earlier, and just now the misunderstanding that wasn’t quite a misunderstanding now that he knew what it was...Julian did the only thing he could do…he fainted.
Prompt from @eilupt on Tumblr: “I got the groceries, but I couldn’t read the last thing on your list. Is this even close?"
***
For the past three years, Dr. Julian Bashir had been living on Cardassia, helping the people recover from the devastation the Dominion had left in their wake following their defeat. In that time, he had been learning how to read and write the Kardasi he had learned to speak back on Deep Space Nine. His letters weren’t as beautiful or as flowing as Garak’s, though the speed and confidence with which he wrote was getting better. His reading, too, improved, so much so, that today’s impromptu immersion task, sans universal translator, was to go grocery shopping in the open air market with a list Garak had hastily written before rushing out of their house to attend to an urgent matter at the Governmental Plaza.
“But Garak...” Julian had protested, glancing over the list, despair growing as his lover’s writing became less and less legible the further down the list he got.
“No time, my dear. I’m sure you’ll do fine. Until later.” And he’d swept out of the room, his council robes billowing behind him as though he had not a care in the world.
‘Well, of course, he didn’t,’ thought Julian bitterly; ‘He’s not the one who has to brave the markets at this time of the morning.’
Julian had stood in their main room, list in hand, for several moments, fighting back the growing panic in his chest. Until now, he’d only ever gone shopping with Garak, or that one time with Dr. Parmak. And hadn’t that been an interesting experience? It was perhaps the third shopping trip that Julian had been on himself, and he’d returned red faced after nearly every little old Cardassian lady they’d met asked increasingly intrusive questions into he and Garak’s love lives, all the while Parmak had stood by with the biggest grin on his face as he translated. That had been months ago, the hospital taking up more time than giving him any off, but that was the way of it with the reconstruction efforts. First there had been the dead and injured to take care of, then the deaths that had followed from illness as infrastructure was rebuilt. Then, when everything had stabilized, with aid from allies and former enemies, there had been the baby boom, expected and relished, how he loved helping to bring wanted children into the world, but exhausting none the less.
‘I guess there’s nothing for it but to get going.’ Julian thought to himself, shaking his way back to the present and pushing the anxiety aside. He’d seen Garak ordering everything, had practiced, and he could just hand the list to someone and ask for help if he truly needed to. Little old ladies might be inquisitive but they were very maternal and tended to take anyone out of their depth under their wing.
Much like their neighbor, Saco Kendek, who waved to him as he left the house, a wave of oppressive heat hitting him in the face as he left the relative cool of the shadows and moved into the street. She didn’t speak a lick of Federaji, but she made her views known when something came up. He waved back and continued to the market, a town square with tents of every color imaginable showcasing the produce from the fields that now surrounded every city on Cardassia Prime. One of Garak’s better ideas, to have each city surrounded by fields that could feed the populace of a given city, with plenty left over for those who preferred the rural life. It also allowed for excess produce to be stored and kept in case of an emergency.
There were other Federation volunteers wandering the markets, some he recognized from the hospital and briefly chatted as he shopped. First thing on the list had been zabu meat, then iole, and docxi, etilery root…rajuwi and…was that pule? No, that wasn’t in season, it had to be punli.
‘So far, so good.’ Julian thought as he checked off each item, feeling quite proud of himself at the moment. ‘Now for the last…what the hell?’
The last item had been scrawled so hastily that there was no way to decipher it, it resembling no more than the chicken scratch that typically epitomized a doctor’s handwriting (even his writing wasn’t that bad), but Garak had been in a hurry, but couldn’t he have just told him what the last item was?
“You look like you could use some help, young man.” came the voice of Eshi Daat, in her stall beside him. He hadn’t even noticed where he was, let alone that he was in that part of the market. Mrs. Daat had a reputation for being a gossip, and Garak had often been ensnared in conversation with her when they went to market, only able to extricate himself after feigning some governmental business.
Julian looked around, trying desperately to find someone else that could help him, and only then noticed that he’d spent most of the morning doing the shopping, dawdling between stalls as he examined the new arrivals. And of course, he’d spoken to some of the other Federation volunteers who were also doing their shopping. Garak would be home for lunch soon, and if he wasn’t back yet, well, he’d dawdled before and ended up with a security detail finding him and a friend chatting in a little park near the hospital. It had been rather embarrassing being escorted home, like some errant child, but times had been rougher then.
Finally giving in, he smiled ruefully and handed over the list, his second tongue all respect and contrition, his head lowered as he glanced up at her (no small feat given he stood nearly 2 feet taller than her hunched form!). She took the list in her gnarled fingers, tracing each shape as though she could stroke the words into legibility. And when she finally met his gaze, there was an odd twinkle in her eye (she’d lost the other during the Fire), that probably should have concerned him if he weren’t so eager to get home, or so busy checking to make sure no security detail was bearing down on him that he wasn’t looking. She cuffed him lightly upside the head to get his attention, and handed him a round gourd.
They’d haggled a price, for which Julian was certain he was not paying the correct price.
‘Too high or too low, that can’t be the right price.’ Julian thought as he made his way home, but he’d done it. He’d braved the market and gotten most, if not all of the list. That was something to be proud of, wasn’t it? And his Kardasi hadn’t been commented on like it had been on previous visits, so either his accent was getting better or the vendors were more used to it.
“Are you just getting in?” Garak asked, as he walked in the door, shutting it behind him with his foot. Worry was written in the lines of his face, the twitch of the tip of his tail.
“I lost track of time, love.” Julian reassured him, handing the bags over. Julian collapsed onto the couch with a heavy, relieved sigh. It was good to be off his feet and out of the heat.
“Julian!” Garak’s voice came from the kitchen.
“Shit, what did I forget?” Julian muttered as he hauled himself up.
“Did I forget something?” he asked as he entered the kitchen only to find Garak with the gourd fruit in his hands and a strange look on his face.
“Where did you get this?”
“Umm, Mrs. Daat sold it to me. Look, I got the groceries, but I couldn’t read the last thing on your list. Is this even close? This is what Mrs. Daat said it was.”
The last thing he would have expected was for Garak to throw back his head, laughing with pure delight. And when he continued laughing, holding onto the countertop for support as he bent over, the gourd cradled close to his chest, Julian couldn’t help but fidget, shifting from one foot to the other, as he tried to figure out what exactly was so funny.
“Look Garak, I get that I can’t read Kardasi as well as you can, but if you could stop laughing at me for a moment and take into account the list you left me…”
Garak grasped his shoulder, stopping the flood of indignation as he tried to regain his breath.
“Oh my dear…my very dear doctor. The last item was idasis’c, a root from the Northern provinces, one of Parmak’s favorites, truth be told. It’s rather similar to your sweet potato, but…oh! Never…never did I think that it could be misread as this.” His merriment continued as he gently placed the gourd on the countertop with something approaching reverence. Then he stilled and turned a quizzical look on his human.
“Or perhaps you are aware of the significance of this particular fruit? Is there something you are trying to ask me?”
“Only for you to explain, Garak.” Julian ran a hand over his face, trying to will the heat that rose unbidden from the unmistakable spark that lit Garak’s eyes just now.
“Ah, so you don’t know this particular fruit? Given only to prospective mates, because of its rarity?”
Julian’s mind blanked as his mouth dropped open, his eyes unblinking as he tried to understand what had just been said. Oh he understood the words, individually, separately, in and of themselves. But together, in this particular formation, they refused to make sense.
“I guess not.” Garak muttered to himself, though there was an odd catch in his voice that Julian couldn’t quite place. “Really, Mrs. Daat has no business interfering. But I suppose it’s done now. And, truly, she couldn’t have know…”
And from within the cooling unit, he withdrew a similar gourd and placed it next to Julian’s on the counter, turning to face him, with his arms outstretched and head bowed.
“My dear, you have made my life a brighter place these long years. Would you,…could you…consider making our arrangement permanent?”
Given the heat, and the lack of food and water he’d had that day (really, Julian, you’re a doctor, you should know better); the worry of earlier, and just now the misunderstanding that wasn’t quite a misunderstanding now that he knew what it was...Julian did the only thing he could do…he fainted.
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