Author Notes: Writing this story was just considered a fun diversion for me. Any feedback you have would be fantastic, even if it's just confirmation that the DS9 fandom is not dead. I update regularly, since I finish my stories before I start posting.

This story takes place sometime around the beginning of season 2.

After a long day of research and reports, Julian Bashir was walking back to his quarters. Despite the hard work, he felt chipper. He walked with a slight skip in his step, and a friendly smile plastered on his face. He was even contemplating a detour to Quark's for a few rounds of holosuite tennis. His comm badge chirped and he answered it promptly.

"Sisko to Bashir."

"Go ahead, Commander."

"We're receiving a visitor from Starfleet Academy Medical on the next shuttle that will land on docking bay 18. I thought that you might want to go greet one of the passengers." Sisko's voice managed to sound enthusiastic over the tinny comm. Bashir started to become curious.

"Who will I have the pleasure of meeting?"

"He said that I should keep it a surprise, but I'll give you a clue. He's one of your professors and one of the most prestigious in the academy."

Bashir's face split into a wide grin. A high ranking professor of his was visiting Deep Space Nine! He hoped that it would be Dr. Granbury or Dr. Wilton. It could even be the famous Dr. Cardin.

"On my way. Bashir out."

Grinning like a fool, he turned tail and went towards the sections of airlocks near the promenade. It was about time for an evening snack and here he would have a good view of disembarking passengers when the ship came in. He sat at his usual spot in the replimat and read. Usually, Garak would sit with them here to watch everyone milling about. He took the same spot out of a combination of fondness and habit.

He was reading Garak's latest find. Bashir had been utterly gobsmacked when he realized that Cardassians wrote poetry. The tailor had kindly found a collection of classic poems for him and sent them to his PADD to read at his leisure. Eventually, he put down his PADD of Cardassian poetry to fetch a cup of tea. Before he had set the teacup down, the airlock whooshed open and a crowd of humans and Bajorans came through. Bashir abandoned his tea and visually scanned the crowd. He started walking towards them and stopped short.

"Dr. Harcourt!" He said softly.

Bashir stared on, dumbfounded. Somehow, he was heard over the commotion of voices and a short humanoid turned to face him.

"Ah! My dear Dr. Julian Bashir."

Bashir's face twisted in an expression that looked as if he was about to sneeze, but then his features smoothed out into professional politeness. His Professor looked the same as he ever did, but with a few more wrinkles now that he was past middle age. His hair was bleached blond and his bright blue eyes were still suffering from slight strabismus. On the professor's face was an indulgent smile. He joined Bashir.

"Working on the most famous base in the quadrant is quite a step up for you. Are you certain you don't need any help? How have you been feeling?"

"I am managing fine, sir." Bashir smiled welcomingly, but without emotion in his eyes.

"Yes, I am sure you are. You always did work hard, but make sure not to push yourself too much, Julian. You look tired." He said warmly.

Bashir had to force himself to turn away to hide his reaction to the words.

"I'll take note of that. Should you like me to show you to a shop on the promenade or maybe some guest quarters?"

"Some guest quarters would be just the thing. Perhaps on a deck somewhere more quiet. Your Klingon problem must turn away quite a lot of business. They are rather an enthusiastic bunch."

"Indeed." Bashir walked him to the turbolift and they got in.

"It is good to see a familiar face here, Julian. How are things with Commander Sisko and Major Kira? I hear that they are two of the higher ranking officers here. I hope you haven't gone off in a dalliance with that Bajoran girl."

Harcourt was shaking his head with disapproval as if Bashir's mere presence was confirmation of the assumption.

"I understand she is beautiful and somewhat docile after the occupation of Bajor, but you must be careful not to take advantage of such things."

Bashir snapped.

"If I have romantic entanglements with anyone on this station I fail to see how it is of your concern, sir. If Major Kira and I should ever form a close relationship then it will be our prerogative to deal with the consequences."

As soon as Bashir said the words, he started to silently berate himself. He had forgotten how to deal with his professor. To be fair, he was out of practice.

"Dear me, I was not implying that I was concerned with your sense of honor! What kind of man would I be to meddle in your affairs like that? I trust that you do not think ill of me, Julian."

"Of course not, sir."

The lift arrived on the deck with their best spare rooms. Bashir was thanking his lucky stars that he would soon be rid of the man.

"I am looking forward to discussing everything that has been happening on this station with Commander Sisko. I trust that you are keeping the sickbay well organized. You always did seem to get a trifle overwhelmed with your work. Maybe I could stop by and help you get things into proper order tomorrow."

Julian found him an empty set of quarters and recorded the filled vacancy on his data pad.

"You are welcome at any time, sir. Please keep in mind that I will be very busy tomorrow. I have a lot of reports to do that the commander wants by the end of the week."

Julian opened the door for him and Dr. Harcourt walked through only to pause.

"Why do you not have them done? Do you need some advice? I'll come tomorrow and check them over. Sisko is not a man to be kept waiting."

"I'll be done with them by tonight and edit them tomorrow morning. Don't trouble yourself, sir. Thank you for the offer."

Bashir breathed a sigh of relief when the door slid shut on its own accord. Julian's enthusiastic display was extinguished like a dying candle flame. He walked back to his quarters, frowning darkly. Dr. Harcourt had not even done anything yet to upset him, but Julian would not fool himself into thinking that all of their future interactions would be as pleasant as that.

Where Dr. Harcourt appeared, Bashir's reputation and social standing soon plummeted. Dr. Bashir had come to admire and respect Commander Sisko, and now he was quickly regretting his hero worship of the man who would soon be deceived by Harcourt. These events had happened before. Harcourt was a compulsive liar and rumor spreading fanatic. Those who had been mentors to Bashir at the academy had turned against him. His friends and fellow students had no longer trusted him.

Deep Space Nine had started to feel so much like home. He had hoped that feeling would last, but it seemed that fate had other plans.

True to his word, Dr. Harcourt had entered Julian's domain the next morning, and had insisted on "helping" him with his reports in the semblance of doing him a favor. Bashir had gritted his teeth and made the revisions, but the man's interference had not stopped there. He started giving him advice on arranging his patient files in the computer banks. In response, Bashir practiced a little deception. He created a program that made it appear as if he had arranged his files according to Harcourt's advice. The doctor had praised him and had told him in a condescending tone that he was a better disciplined man now, and that he was becoming a true professional.

Dr. Bashir had borne all of these events with practiced stoicism. He held his tongue. A few times, Bashir had walked in on Dr. Harcourt talking with Dax and Kira. Their conversations had always quickly stopped after he entered the room. The Major had pulled him aside at one point and told him to keep his chin up. The advice had baffled him, until he saw Major Kira actively avoiding Harcourt, sometimes taking pains to make it noticeable that she was walking in the opposite direction. The Major, it seemed, could spot a liar and a schemer. The question was if Bashir's other friends and fellow officers had as much instinct. Dr. Harcourt had then talked with Sisko. Bashir did not have knowledge of their conversations, but all the while, dread stirred within him.

After a couple of the most tense and watchful days of his life, Bashir had fallen back into his usual routine. His routine included having lunch with Garak and a rousing literature debate. He was a little more subdued these past few days, to the point where he no longer enjoyed their conversations. With tired eyes and a sagging posture, he had joined the tailor for their shared meal. Garak had made no comment on his appearance, but had immediately started discussing their shared reading with the doctor.

"Was Cardassian poetry everything that you had been expecting?"

"Yes. I don't think I've seen more Cardassian patriotism in my life. It was starting to sound suspiciously brimming with honor and pride like a Klingon."

"Do lower your voice, doctor. I would hate for that opinion to get back to Gul Dukat or any of the Obsidian Order." Garak whispered.

"I won't tell if you don't. Poetry is serious business."

"That almost sounded like sarcasm, dear doctor."

Bashir's eye twitched in a strange manner.

"Is there something the matter? What did I say that upset you?"

"I'm not upset. I just forgot how you call me 'dear' doctor." He emphasized.

"Is that a problem? You never seemed to mind before."

"I don't mind. Forget it, Garak." Bashir took a large swallow of his coffee.

"Really, you should tell me whatever is on your mind so much lately. It seems to be having a detrimental effect on you. Is it that newly arrived doctor friend of yours?

Bashir choked on his beverage and hastily lowered the cup.

"How do you know about him?"

"Word gets around. As a matter of fact, I've been considering paying him a visit. He needs a welcome that would leave him without a doubt about how things are done on this station."

"What?"

Bashir gaped at his friend while the Cardassian explained with uncharacteristic aggression in his eyes. Gone was the cold calculating gaze, in its place was something more primal.

"Well, what am I to presume here? The man shows up on this station and suddenly you look like 'death warmed over' as your culture calls it. You look like you haven't been sleeping adequately. You consume caffeine at an alarming rate and you hardly eat. If this scoundrel has harmed you…"

"Garak!" Bashir sputtered with surprise and amusement.

"Don't read me wrongly. I am aware that your combat training has made you a formidable opponent to someone as inexperienced as that Harcourt fellow, but I will not allow you be subjected to any of his threats or mistreatment."

"Garak! He hasn't harmed me or threatened me. You have my word. Good heavens, I do believe that you have become a veritable mother bear over me." Bashir laughed.

Bashir continued to stare at the Cardassian incredulously. For all Garak's display of calm and serenity, he projected the exact opposite while in his element.

"A mother bear? Perhaps. I do not abide by someone intimidating my lunch partner for their personal amusement."

Garak seemed to calm down then, leaning back in his chair.

"If you say that he has done nothing, then I shall believe you. But if that changes, I trust you will take the appropriate actions."

Bashir smiled, still pleasantly surprised by his friend. He might have expected a speech like that from Dax or O'Brien, but it sounded bizarre coming from the tailor.

"I'm not entirely helpless, you know."

"I know; which is why I let you brave Cardassian poetry like you wanted. Was there any particular poem that you liked? I'm curious."

Garak hastily jumped back to their literature topic. Despite how uncomfortable the conversation had gotten, Bashir could also detect that the Cardassian was genuinely interested in his opinion. Bashir considered carefully what he remembered.

"The one about the Bajoran waterfalls was pleasant. It almost sounded like something by Robert Frost."

"I assume he was a skilled poet?"

"Yes. Come to think of it, he could be dark and mysterious like a Cardassian at times. His descriptions were always very eloquent."

"At least it did not remind you of something from Brontë." Garak smirked.

"I can't believe you know Brontë but not Frost."

"I am a selective reader of Terran literature. The authors that attract the most attention are not necessarily my first choice."

"Evidently." Bashir gave a subtle sigh and hung his head.

"You look fatigued."

"I'll be fine. Ugh, it must be the lingering effects of the transporter I used a few hours ago. Commander Sisko wanted me to check on some of our latest Bajorin visitors that arrived. Several of them had long term chronic medical conditions and they couldn't get out of the ship in the dock. Their vessel hatch was jammed so I had to beam onto their ship." Julian pinched the bridge of his nose as if experiencing a headache.

"It is strange that they decided to travel to the station while their health was in such danger."

"They wanted to see the Emissary, and the wormhole. It's supposed to be the home of the prophets. It must come as an instinct to the Bajorans to seek out the divine when they're ill."

"And then they make more work for you by coming here. It seems that you've been 'getting the short end of the stick,' as you humans call it,this past week." Garak quirked an eye ridge.

"I don't mind it. I'm dedicated to my work and they need someone to look after their wellbeing while at the station."

"At the expense of your own wellbeing?"

Bashir flapped a hand impatiently.

"The Bajorans aren't the problem. Dr. Harcourt has been making sure that I'm kept on my toes all hours of the day. I'll be glad when he leaves. The man is an absolute menace when it comes to spreading false rumors and trying to compete with another medical professional." Bashir griped.

"I thought he was your mentor? Why should he feel the need to compete?"

"I have no idea. I can't even begin to fathom what goes on in his mind. I've got to get back to sickbay or he'll go running to Sisko, telling him I've been remiss in my duties."

Bashir stood, picking up his half full coffee cup.

"You've been here for 15 minutes! Surely you are exaggerating." The tailor frowned.

"He's already gone to Sisko after that one time I talked with you near the end of my shift. The Commander placated him with a promise that I've always done my job and kept on top of things, but Harcourt won't quit until he has found something to complain to Starfleet about. I'll meet with you next Tuesday or stop by your shop."

Garak watched the doctor leave with a discontented expression. Bashir walked like he was aching with stress and fatigue. In addition, something about Bashir was dispirited, like he had been taken down a peg or two. The situation did not sit right with the Cardassian, who was used to his avid, energetic conversation partner. Something about this situation did not feel right at all.