TITLE:Proper Grammar
AUTHOR: Melissa
PAIRING: G/B (DS9, some small mention of Enterprise), rated PG

Challenge: Write a story in which the conflict centers around a word that cannot be accurately translated from Federation Standard (English) to Kardasi. (mosca)

Disclaimer: Paramount owns it all, the greedy things!

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"This is a disaster!"

Dr. Julian Bashir held his head in hands, sweat trickling off of his brow and between his fingers. This had nothing to do with the current temperature of Quark's, which was a balmy 25 degrees centigrade, but had everything to do with the PADD before him, its surface riddled with Kardasi text. Quark was shaking his head, and poured Julian a fresh draught of Bolian coffee, which fell into Julian's mug like clumps of partially melted molasses.

"So in all your years of travel, you've *never* seen a word that's at least similar?" He was hopeful as he stared across the table at Morn, who was his usual silent, sombre self. Morn sighed, and pointed to Julian's coffee mug, a signifier that no, he couldn't help him, and the doctor was in for another long haul of study. "This isn't fair," Julian said morosely, and pouting. "I took this on because it was supposed to be *fun*."

"I never knew Cardassians and fun could be said in the same breath," Odo said. He was sitting at the bar, a glass in his hand. Every now and then he took a drink of himself.

Julian bristled, but wouldn't bite at the oblique taunt. Ever since Odo had returned from his homeworld he'd been a little less caustic and his discovered sense of humour was getting on Julian's nerves. The only person who didn't notice was Ambassador Kira, but then with the two clichés of 'distance makes the heart grow fonder' and 'love is blind' working against her, he couldn't blame her, really.

Quark was strangely pensive, and Julian was wondering if he had any information that he could coax out of the Ferengi for a small fee. But profit was moot by this point. In all Quark's years through the Cardassian occupation and beyond he'd never come across this particular linguistics problem before.

"It's got to be an anatomy thing," Quark offered, and even though it was true, it didn't help.

"The Federation meeting at New Cardassia is in two days," Julian said. He hoped his voice didn't betray the secret panic he felt at that thought. "If I can't figure out how to get this word translated, the entire talk could be compromised, and New Cardassia might not end up being as new as everyone hopes." Julian sighed. "That's the thing about language. It's so easy to be misunderstood with just the wrongly placed or mispronounced word."

Morn morosely nodded.

The worst part was what Julian didn't express. The fact that Garak had heard his dilemma last night and considered it the most hysterical thing he'd heard in his life. While he was happy to see him smile and genuinely laugh, the fact that it was directed at himself didn't make Julian share in the emotion. He had to succeed in this to, at the very least, upstage Garak just a little. Garak's pat on his head and the peck on Julian's cheek was patronizing to an infuriating degree.

He looked at the symbols comprising all the possibilities of the word, none of them working.

"Maybe you should talk to Ezri," Quark suggested. "She's had three hundred years, she's got to have some ideas."

Inwardly, Julian grimaced.

"We didn't exactly part on good terms," Julian reminded him.

Quark shrugged. "So she tried to kill you with a coffee table, happens all the time. I'm sure she's over it by now." He got up, taking his canister of Bolian coffee with him. "You have to drink that hot, you know, it sets like tar if you don't." It was already hardening, Julian saw. Quark had told him at the last second, hoping to make him pay for a new cup. Julian stuck a spoon in it and began poking through its thickened surface crust.

***

"Ezri, you don't have to..."

The screen seemed to shatter, though it miraculously somehow held it's shape, despite the fact that Ezri threw a Vulcan meditation orb at it. The only evidence of her outburst was a small discoloration on the bottom left hand corner of the screen.

"This isn't about me, this is about the meeting between the Federation and the New Cardassia..."

"Not so 'new' to you, is it Julian?" she spat at him. He was always surprised by her anger, not to mention the viciousness of her temper. Maybe what she had was that last passionate spark of Jadzia's which had been what attracted him in the first place. But then, Worf, a Klingon, was better suited to handle that fury, not Dr. Julian Bashir.

"It was well over a year ago..." he began.

"It's not that I'm not understanding," Ezri said to him, though through very clenched teeth. "It's the fact that you lied to me, and told me there was nothing between you. And who did I have to hear the truth from, of all people. Garak?"

"Ezri..."

"That you'd been with him all along, behind the scenes...That you'd been after me as a ruse to hide it..."

"I wouldn't say it was entirely that, Garak is a jealous creature, after all."

"What do you think *I* am, Julian?"

He couldn't answer that one. She was right, he'd been an ass, and he deserved every bit of anger and fury she could fling at him. Catching your lover in bed with another woman was one thing, but catching your lover in bed with a humanoid reptile in a scene of carnal lust that would befit Caligula and all of his perverted Roman gods...

Ezri should have broken that screen after all.

"You know I'm sorry..."

"You said sorry ages ago," Ezri cut in. She sighed, seemingly suddenly aeons older than her outward appearance suggested, which was the truth in her sense. Three hundred years worth of symbiont soul could only hold a grudge for so long. "What do you want, Julian?" she asked, suddenly tired.

"I need a proper translation into Kardasi for this word." He typed it up onto the screen, and Ezri squinted at it.

"You're kidding."

"Ezri, the entire meeting's success may count on the proper translation of this word. If something as simple as this can't be conveyed, then where would we stand in making any kind of headway between the differences of culture?"

Ezri blinked, staring at the word. Her brow frowned as she looked it over. "You know, you might have to check into something a lot older. There is a word in existence that means 'to go', but it's not specific enough for what you need. That word alone is from a sub species known as the Helions. Ancient history says they traded with the Kardasi forebears, but I don't know how far back you'd have to go." Her brow pursed further. "You might want to check Federation linguistics records. There might have been some contact between earth and the Helions, but it was hundreds of years ago."

Julian nodded. "Thanks Ezri."

"Oh, and Julian?"

He swallowed. "Yes?"

"Don't contact me again."

***

The meeting was going smoothly, the New Cardassia plans laid out for the Federation's inspection and approval, the drink and food going down with ease, along with the sentiments of hope. Julian had never thought he'd see such a quick recovery, but with all the universe helping out in its reshaping, it was clear that New Cardassia was going to be just that--A place that heralded a new era for its inhabitants and peace prevailing for hopefully a very long time.

Garak was at his side, nursing a long cylindrical beaker of pale blue liquid that had a faint, lily-like aroma. Julian thought about making a crack about Garak drinking perfume, but he looked too at ease and happy to ruin it with smart remarks.

Besides, Garak had already beat him to cynicism.

"I see they have reshaped the history of my people quite well," Garak said over the canapés. "Maybe they'll even put up a,what was that popular place that you were telling me about in your insights of history? A McDonald's?" Garak sipped at his blue drink, the end of the overly long glass swinging out in a large arc. "The sign of all cultural deterioration."

Julian was nursing a simple gin and tonic. "It's not so bad as all that. Sometimes outside influence is worthwhile Garak."

"Or it can cancel you out," Garak said. He patted Julian's shoulder in a friendly manner, the coolness of his flesh in direct contrast to Julian's body heat. Julian couldn't help but shiver, knowing how intimate that coolness could be. "I could think about kissing you, right here in front of everyone," Garak whispered in his ear. "I could send them all talking and whispering right along with me, right now. Or we could go somewhere private, to discuss it at long length..."

"Gul Goreck," Julian said, in full cheerful confidence, shaking Garak and his suggestive, inviting voice off. "It is good to see you made it here."

Gul Goreck had just won the election for the lower half of the New Cardassian region. He was a tall and handsome Cardassian, with thinly defined ridges that still betrayed his youth. It was the young taking over this new time in history, rewriting what they hadn't had time to fully experience. He was already wearing Federation fashions instead of the traditional Gul uniform. It was strange to see this many changes already, it almost made Garak's observations true. But Cardassia wasn't going to forget itself any more than Earth had. Survival only made a culture even more determined, which showed in Gul Goreck's spirit, if not his dress. "I wasn't sure if the shuttle craft was going to make it through the iso storm, but we seem to have made it with only a few bumps. Dr. Julian Bashir, is it? I've heard you did a lot for Cardassia after the war."

"Yes," Julian said, and took a longer sip of his drink. The further they all got away from those miserable memories the better. He drained it completely and nodded at Gul Goreck. "If you'll excuse me." He stopped a Cardassian waiter within earshot of the two men and asked him, as politely as he could. "Could you tell me...Koreganai?"

The waiter's neck ridges were significantly paler than before.

"Koreganai?" Julian said again.

Garak himself was pale. "Julian!"

Gul Goreck nudged Garak in the arm. "These humans are fun to work for, aren't they?" He puffed up with pride. "I've had to politely decline more than one invitation that's for sure. It must be something in their history," Gul Goreck bent low into Garak's infuriated confidence. "All that dragon mythology of theirs, you know..."

Julian was in a panic. What had gone wrong? He'd been more than sure that he'd said the word properly, at least from the notations his studies had told him. Ensign Hoshi Sato's notes were exhaustive on this word alone, and he supposed he shouldn't have been surprised that it caused the same troubles here as it had hundreds of years ago for the Enterprise.

Poor Sergeant Tucker!

Julian made a face as he realized he'd put the wrong emphasis on the second syllable. "Gari! Gari! *sorry! sorry*" He took a deeper breath and pronounced the word properly, with the inflection on the 'ai' sound, in the proper structure of Kardasi grammar. The waiter looked noticeably relieved.

"Oh! Of course, sir! Down the hall to the left."

Of course, Julian mused, while Garak guffawed behind him, that's where they always were.

END