Ever since watching The Wire for the first time, my brain has doggedly kept working away at the Especially the lies of it all, and specifically at how much the structure beneath the different stories Garak tells contributes to the overall meaning of what he’s trying to say. While the contradicting narratives of course expertly obscure the factual circumstances of his getting exiled, using them also allows him to tell aspects and facets of the emotional truth I don’t think he ever could have, if he’d simply told the actual story of what happened. (It’s very Varric-core of him honestly.)
The first story — the ‘oh, you think you know me?’ story — says I have done things that would sicken you if you knew any detail of it. It’s clearly meant to scare Bashir away so he’ll leave him to die shamefully in peace already lol. But it’s also one of his (probably much-needed lbr) little lessons to Julian that are so frequent in the beginning, given while Garak still has some hold on himself — “Don’t be so quick to forgive me if you don’t even know what I’ve done; what would you do if this really were the sum total of what I am?” (And Julian seems to surprise him by going ‘Well, exactly the same thing, because no matter who you are I am a doctor. But I sort of take your point.’)
The second story — the letting the orphans go story — says I have failed to smother my soul in its cradle when it was required of me, and I regret that more than anything I’ve done. To my ears this is the one most shot through with active self-loathing too, which is interesting. He’s officially lost the control he’s been clinging to and it’s about to get ugly. His TL;DR is ‘Sentiment is the greatest weakness of all’, even all the way back here. (Which is the one lesson Julian steadfastly refuses to learn, which I think in turn does some serious rearrangement of Garak’s soul over the course of the show haha. Get uno reversed into the process of loving and being loved without shame asshole.) This is also where he builds up to admitting to having any sort of need for companionship or closeness at all and — so much worse — that Julian’s role in his life actually has fulfilled some of that need, and he’s DRIPPING with defensive venom over it b/c well I get it Garak vulnerability is scary it can take a person like that.
(I also feel there’s something honest and forbidden in ‘Suddenly the whole exercise seemed utterly meaningless’. I suspect ‘actually… why the fuck are we even doing this???’ is not a welcome sentiment in an Obsidian Order water cooler environment, no matter what you’re saying it about lmao. The very first seeds of him deconstructing the things he’s been taught about Cardassia and his work might be hinted at here, though they of course take a looong time to come to any real fruition.)
The third story — the ‘Elim was my best friend’ story — says hey, remember that thing you said once, about how sometimes, you have to be loyal to yourself before you can be loyal to anything else? Well. guess what. I couldn’t even be that lmao. It also furthers that thread of being divided from yourself, split, that having ‘Elim’ as a separate person around in all versions of the story brings in. He’s in control of himself again, but he essentially hands his life and soul over to Julian to decide what should be done with them.
I’ve done horrible things and it finally caught up with me, I’m getting what I deserve → I let sentiment master me and the fact that I’m too weak to do what’s needed of me shames me more than the evil I’ve done → I fucked up. I betrayed myself and everything I held to, all for nothing, and I have no one to blame for it but myself. But it’s very nice that you’re here anyway, Doctor. (Wow. I didn’t realize quite how isolated and lonely that last one was before right now. The way Tain has shaped him really has just… locked him completely into himself, huh.) We can also see a movement through from a completely professional context in the first story, to an intensely interpersonal and internal context in the last one — even his fake stories spiral in towards intimacy, which I think is what he longs for here even if he can’t quite like. Touch that without the stories as a buffer yet, it’s clearly like touching a hot stove for him to interact with it too directly.
And you know what I find incredibly interesting the whole way through? Even on his deathbed, where he’s dying from the thing Tain had put in his head, he’s protecting Tain. He puts all the blame for where he is on himself (‘My future was limitless, until I threw it away’), even if he has to employ a strange twisty logic where he’s split himself into two to do it. Don’t get me wrong, Garak has done horrific things all on his own haha, but it’s notable that he almost isolates Tain from that. ‘Tain was the Obsidian Order. Not even the Central Command dared challenge him. And I was his right hand.’ Tain in Garak’s stories is this infallible implacable weirdly distant figure, even now. Indeed, as will make a lot of sense with the revelations further down the line, more than anything it seems the gaze of an abused child desperate for recognition looking up at an idealized (if not in any way nurturing) parent.‘He was retired at that point; he couldn't protect me’, Garak says, as if what he’d need protection from in the first place isn’t Tain himself lmao, as if Tain had no active part in any of this. He never lets blame touch Tain at all. At this stage he would rather consider himself a broken flawed tool than accept that the hands that have wrought and wielded him have ever had any fault in them. AND in the middle of it all, with plausible deniability, on death’s door and knocking meekly to be let in before he must finish the mortifying ordeal of being known and test the even more daunting possibility of being loved, Garak at the same time manages to drop the breadcrumb trail of clues to make it possible for Julian to find Tain if he so chooses and gets in the ‘sons of Tain’ thing too for future dramatic irony purposes. Truly he is the Michelangelo of lying. Every falsehood a multifaceted masterpiece. Elim ‘achieving a state of intertextuality in real life is possible if you work hard and believe in yourself’ Garak. I love him so much.
I think all of this is why “I forgive you. For whatever it is you did,” works so well, because it too works on a structural level. It’s such a deceptively multilayered response — it has the syntax of a joke, in a way, and it is kind of funny even under the circumstances, but delivered with such earnest warmth and fondness. It’s both recognition and acceptance (forgiveness!). It’s saying ‘I finally understand enough of what you’re trying to tell me beneath and through all that, in whatever way you’re capable of, I see you’ and ‘my answer hasn’t changed (bitch)’. The forgiveness Julian offers here is complete — on principle, and out of personal feeling and empathy (only one of which Garak deigns to respond to during the second story, where he calls it ‘smug Federation sympathy’, placing it more completely on the principle side than it probably is. ‘Dude you’re my friend please don’t just lie down and die in a completely avoidable way on me, who else is going to not only tolerate but actually gleefully enjoy me being annoying as fuck over lunch’ seems to be the subtext that’s a lot harder to acknowledge and invite in for both of them. And yet Tain seems perfectly clear on the fact that Julian is Garak’s friend, which, y’know. Must be fun living with the knowledge that Tain has eyes everywhere looming over you every day haha guess you’d just have to tune that out.)
Most of all — ’Don’t give up on me now, Doctor’... and he didn’t! He didn’t. Augh. Ow.
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Me again! Could I maybe request a follow up to the lawyer/Thena raising her sisters au? The first one was so good and I'd love to see what happens when Gil comes over to make the lasagna. Thank you :)
"Hey!"
Gil looked up from chopping, just barely catching two heads ducking down behind the back of the couch again to resume pretending to watch tv. He chuckled, glancing briefly to his right, "it's okay, I don't mind."
Thena shook her head though, focusing back on cutting parsley with needlessly forceful chops. "They're only lingering so they can ask you invasive questions, despite me debriefing them earlier."
It was funny that she called it 'debriefing' them. But she had warned him that she didn't have much in the way of friends, so don't be concerned by the endless questions of being her boyfriend, or at least liking her, if not being accused of having a long standing affair with her. That, he had blushed at.
He shrugged though, laughing to himself as he caught the odd eye glancing his way again. "They're kids, I don't blame them for being curious. I did kind of come over uninvited."
"Trust me, it's never gone well when I've attempted to tackle our mother's recipes before," Thena muttered, looking at the hand written notes lovingly propped open on a book stand for their reference. She looked down and pointed with the knife, "like this?"
Gil smiled; the parsley looked like it had been murdered and sawed. He nodded, "looks great. Honestly, even finer--the smaller the better when it goes in the ricotta."
Thena accepted the instruction, resuming hacking at it.
Gil winced for the poor cutting board. "May I?"
Thena just watched as he reached over gently. He moved one hand to the back of the blade and adjusted the wrist of her other, demonstrating the rocking motion of a cleaner cut. "Oh."
"It'll be easier on your hand," he suggested lightly, leaving his ears and the cutting board's longevity aside.
Thena eyed him and the mirepoix he was stirring in the pot with sizzling meat already in it. She continued his work, slower and clumsier, but following his demonstration. "Thanks--this is what I was talking about."
He shrugged, though, adding the garlic and tomato paste to the loudly sizzling pot. "Hey, you wouldn't know this stuff unless it was taught to you. I just happened to be in the kitchen with my grandma a lot as a kid."
Thena stared down at her parsley, looking more and more fine by the moment. "Mother knew I was terrible in the kitchen. Father would remind me ceaselessly that a wife who couldn't cook was like a car with no wheels."
Gil frowned, "that's a pretty messed up thing to say. And to your own daughter?"
She gave him a half a smile and a raise of her sharp eyebrow, "you can tell why Mother's keepsakes are all over the house, while I didn't even keep the car that was in Father's name."
He gave her a little laugh at her joke, no matter how dark. "I guess I don't blame you for that. Moms hold the family together most of the time anyway, right?--taste."
Thena blinked at the speed with which he transitioned from one subject back to their dinner. But she accepted the bite of carrot, blowing before popping it into her mouth. "Hm, still crunchy, but it tastes good."
"Adding the tomato paste and frying it a little first helps get that tinny, acidic taste out, and sweetens it." He reached for the wine, adding a healthy glug or two before reaching for the canned tomatoes. He nodded his head, "want a glass?"
Her eyes darted to the living room.
She was a dutiful guardian, mother or not. Gil smiled, though, nudging the bottle, "one glass won't hurt, right? We're not going anywhere for the rest of the night, and they're fine."
Thena eyed the bottle before sighing, "there are some glasses on the top shelf next to the fridge, I think."
She thought, as in she wasn't sure. But Gil wiped his hands off on the towel he had thrown over his shoulder and moved to the fridge. There were indeed wine glasses still in there, upside down and everything. He pulled two out, admiring the light feel and crystalline shine of them.
"Hey," he whispered, pouring them each a modest glass of a mere few ounces each. He clinked them lightly too, although the quality of the glass still made them ting loudly. "To the first lasagne of many, right?"
That made her smile, and his own smile brightened. Whether it was lasagne or anything else from their mother's hand written recipes, he was happy to help with it. She picked up her glass and gave him a gentle smile over the rim of it. "To the inaugural lasagne."
Her lips looked even more full against the rim of a glass, and when she pulled away he realised for the first time that she wore just a little lip colour when they were in the office.
He averted his eyes from the faint pink on the rim of her glass, looking into his own swirl of red wine. Moving back to the pot he smelled the bubbling mixture. "Usually I'd say to let it simmer for a while, but about fifteen minutes should be fine so we can get things in the oven."
Thena nodded after another sip of her own. "Is the parsley cut enough?"
It was now practically a fine paste it was so chopped. The cutting board was stained green, which of course meant a lot of its flavour was stuck in the wood grain as opposed to still in the leaves. But he grinned, "looks great."
Thena rolled her eyes.
"Hey, really," he laughed, reaching around her for the bowl of ricotta to mix the greens into. "And you said you were terrible at this."
She sighed again, letting her eyes drift back to the couch and to the tv playing some kind of reality show. "Just ask them about the first time I tried baking cookies for them. I'm forbidden from contributing to bake sales. I think they nearly called the CDC on me."
Gil laughed from his belly at that. The heads on the couch turned to watch them again but he was busy looking at Thena, who was laughing faintly at her own joke. Or maybe she was laughing because he was. Either way, she had a cute laugh. "Come on, it couldn't be that bad."
She shook her head though, "poor Sersi had to take over for me to get even one pan of edible merchandise. I had to write a note excusing my poor performance."
Gil caught two pairs of eyes fully spying on them, getting caught be damned. But he slid against the edge of the counter to lean closer. "I mean, I would think they could give you a bit of a break, all things considered."
Thena's expression turned gloomy again, staring into her wine. "I think they do. But everything they send home for them to do feels herculean after a long week, or a big case, or soccer, or-"
The oven beeped loudly at them, announcing its preheating.
Thena gave him a light smile again as she retrieved the casserole dish they had selected. "Ready?"
"I'd say so," he replied gently. He picked up a ladle, first putting in some sauce on the bottom. "This helps to steam the noodles and prevent burning on the bottom layer."
"Hm," Thena mused as she watched him layer the first set of lasagne sheets in. "I thought it was a meaningless old tradition. I never imagined there was a reason for it."
Gil looked back at the recipe, "it's one of those things that you only know if you know. I'm sure your mom never thought of adding in stuff like this."
"No, I suppose not."
He gulped, wondering if he should have brought it up at all. But Thena's smile, although wistful, wasn't really sad. He pointed, "it's your time to shine."
She laughed faintly, scooping out the mixture of ricotta and her pulverised parsley. "I'm lucky I have your expertise."
He blushed. She could have asked him for anything, after he had found out what kind of day she'd had when she texted. He would have fished the moon out of the sky if she asked.
She flicked the spoon for the last glob before he layered on more sauce. "I may have to call on you again the next time we open the book."
He grinned down at the noodles as he laid them. Thena's hands were long but slim, her fingers so delicate and pretty. His sleeves were rolled up for cooking, as were hers. She looked half his size, standing next to him. "Any time, you name it."
"Careful Gil," she murmured, and it almost sounded like she was teasing him playfully. "If this turns out well, they'll be demanding you cook for them all the time."
He was pretty sure he would agree to that, whether by the girls' demand or their sister's. "The defense rests, your honour."
Thena rolled her eyes again at his corny lawyer joke, but she was still smiling at least.
"Okay," he breathed as he ladled on the last layer of sauce. "Get some cheese on this and I believe we'll have a beautiful lasagne in about an hour."
"About an hour?" she asked firmly as she sprinkled on the cheese mixture from the bag. "Don't underestimate my ability to ruin an hour's worth of hard work in the last ten minutes."
"Okay, okay," he chuckled. Thena was adamant in everything she did, from her casework in court, to her determination that she was a blackhole of culinary ability. "Set a timer for 40 minutes, then we'll check it, and I like to broil it for the last five or so, just to get that leopard spotting on the cheese."
"Yes, Chef," she purred (definitely teasing him).
He buried his nose in his wine glass again. He was just about empty, but Thena definitely didn't drink regularly with two teenagers at home, and he didn't come over to get buzzed anyway.
"Here," she said gently, reaching for the glass with the bottle already in hand. He had a polite decline on his tongue when she pulled his hand with hers, topping him up. "I owe you far more than dinner and some wine, but I guess it's a start."
"You don't owe me anything Thena," he frowned even as she poured herself a little more too. He leaned forward again, "really."
She just looked at him, and she was back to being completely unreadable. He dreaded to think what it was like to go up against her in court; not only was her beauty intimidating, but that stare was cold enough to chill his wine to the touch.
"Are you done flirting?!"
Gil tugged at his shirt collar, only to remember that he had already taken off his tie and undone the first two buttons so he wouldn't sweat in the food.
Thena glared at her sister, "I beg your pardon?"
The head of auburn hair ducked down like a startled dog, but didn't retreat entirely. "When's dinner gonna be ready?"
"In an hour," Thena snapped again, but it wasn't her sharp tone that had the girl trembling. If anything, her sharpness seemed familiar and comforting to her sisters.
"Can I have a diet coke?"
"No."
"Come on!" Sprite whined at her, "you're having a fun drink!"
Gil slid his eyes over to his colleague. The evidence was right there, even if he was the one at fault for it.
Thena let out a loud sigh, matching the dramatic energy of her sister(s). "Fine, you can each have one. But if it's gone before dinner, that's it, it's water for the rest of the night."
"Fine," Sprite moaned as she slid off the couch to retrieve them.
Thena glared at her.
"She means thank you," Sersi offered much more sweetly and docilely, even if it was just to appease their sister's glaring. She crept behind her younger sister, holding onto her shoulders the whole way to the fridge. Her eyes darted between them, "it, um, smells nice."
Gil smiled; they were nice kids. Thena had done a great job with them, clearly. "Thanks, I hope I got everything right."
"You can't do worse than her, dude, trust me," Sprite pointed blatantly at their guardian. "She's, like, find a bone in your cereal--bad."
"It was one time."
It wasn't a joke? Where did the bone come from?
"If dinner isn't for an hour," Sersi swayed on the spot, like a child shyly twirling her dress (although she was actually in yoga pants with a green flannel tied around her waist). "Would you like to watch an episode of Ghost Files?"
"Ghost show, huh?" Gil grinned, putting his hand on his hips. He looked over at Thena, who looked maybe even a little sheepish.
"It's our fav," Sprite added, excited at the prospect of sharing their favourite program. "They find evidence, and then Thee tells us if it would be accepted in court."
"None of it would be," she stated outright, "but they still ask me every episode."
She made it sound tedious, but she was smiling just like the other two as they started to move back to the living room. Gil followed, "sounds like a fun family thing."
"If you two sit up properly, there'll be room for Gil to sit," Thena suggested not-so-subtly.
But Sersi and Sprite threw themselves back onto the couch. One side was clearly claimed by each, Sersi's with a fluffy blanket for her legs and Sprite's with a crumpled up throw pillow and snacks on her respective end table.
They pointed. "Or you can sit on the loveseat."
"Yeah, why else have two couches?" Sprite snickered with a mouthful of roasted peanuts.
"Animals," Thena admonished her sisters, and yet took a graceful seat on the smaller sofa adjacent to the tv. She had sat closer, giving Gil the better seat for viewing. She pulled one of her legs up, leaving the other down and her pencil skirt stretching to accommodate her.
He sat down on the other cushion, clutching his wine glass and trying to focus on the show, rather than how he could now smell that Thena also wore a little perfume when she was in the office too.
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