Jen Chapman issued the following challenge, to me:

>

>I'll bet you can't write a DS9/SW x-over featuring Garak in 'time out'

>time (meaning five minutes for every year you've been alive).

>

>Heh heh,

>

>Jen

>

>PS: Has to have the dreaded talking chihuahua, the pizza Leia, and the

>Colonel.



This was my answer:



-----------------------



Start time: 10:58 am, EDT.

End time: 11:48 am, EDT.



_The Force Shimmy_







Garak was *not* pleased.  He'd had a very stressful day, and

just when it occurred to him to close his shop early, these

two...he couldn't think of a word foul enough to describe them.



Not that they were terribly foul, even if the small one did have a bad

haircut.  Actually, they looked and smelled rather like people Garak

might want to take to bed, if he'd wanted to take anyone but Julian to

bed, which he didn't.



Really he didn't.



Even if Julian *had* turned him down in no uncertain terms.



Even if the one with the bad haircut *did* look fetching in the long,

narrow velvet skirt he was modeling.



Garak produced a shiny metallic top for the boy to try on, and spoke to

the taller man.  "Are you just passing through?"



"We're looking for someone."



"Ah.  This is a good place to find someones."



"Our quarry is rather elusive.  We have had to cross galaxies to find

them."



"Galaxies?"  Garak looked up at him, archly.  "But you're Terran.  I

even recognize the accent." 



"I am not Terran.  I am Shi-Nangan.  My padawan, there, is Jetabi, but

we were both raised on Coruscant."  He smiled.  "I am Qui-Gon Jinn, and

he is Obi-Wan Kenobi."



Garak ruthlessly repressed his disbelief.  Obviously, the man was insane.

He changed the subject.  "Who are you trying to find?  Perhaps I can help."

 

"So we heard.  We are looking for a small animal, the size of my hand,

which speaks of something called 'taco bell'.  With him, there is an old 

man, dressed all in white, and a young, dark-haired girl."



Garak blinked.  "Those three are harmless.  Why do you want them?"



"Are you in the habit of asking this many questions?"



"I trade information, from time to time.  I like to get something in

return."



"I'll give you one night with my padawan in exchange for their

location."



As appealing as the offer was, Garak had never been big on slaves--and

if the boy could be offered that easily, "padawan" must translate to

something close to "slave".  "No, thank you."



"A night with me, then."



"You're not my type."



The young man came out from behind the screen, in a lovely red dress

that showed all the skin down his right side.  "Master?"



Qui-Gon eyed him critically.  Garak concentrated on not drooling,

and made a mental note that "padawan" probably *did* translate to

"slave", and wondered how much Odo would pay for that information.



"I don't think so, Obi-Wan," said Qui-Gon.  "You wouldn't want me to

have to fight for you.  Try something a little more modest."



"I don't think anyone is crazy enough to fight you, Mast--"



"Behave, young Padawan."



The boy disappeared behind the screen, taking several more dresses with

him.



Garak frowned, and turned back to Qui-Gon.  "What else do you have to

offer?"



"What do you want?"



"I want one night with Julian Bashir."



"My padawan or myself is the best I can do in that department.  Anything 

else?"



"No, not really.  Unless you care to tell me why you're looking for

three harmless people."



"We are also harmless."



"I know a fighter when I see one, Qui-Gon Jinn."



"And I know a spy when I see one.  So we are even."



"That we are--except that I still have information you want."



"Very well.  They have plagued our galaxy with noise and strange

foodstuffs.  Furthermore, they give children toys filled with the power

of the Dark Side."



"That's what they do here, only we are not silly enough to object to

it."



Obi-Wan came out, wearing a tight iridescent number.  "Master?  It'll be

perfect for Master Yoda's next party."



"It will indeed.  Now, put your own clothes back on."



With a seductive shimmy of his hips, the boy disappeared behind the

screen.



Garak, still enchanted by the shimmy, barely noticed when Qui-Gon asked

him, again, for the location of the three fugitives.  He certainly

didn't notice when he answered, because he was too busy regretting not

taking the offer of a night with the slave-boy.



And then the dress was bought and the two were gone and Garak slumped

into a chair in frustration and closed his eyes.  It had been a very

stressful day.  Maybe he could just fantasize a little and relieve some

of the tension--



"Garak!  Garak, are you all right?"



He opened his eyes to see Julian standing over him.



Wearing the shimmery iridescent dress he'd just sold to the slave-boy

and his master. 



"Julian?"



"These two strange men came into Sickbay and said that you made this

especially for me.  Is that true?"



Garak knew a gift when he saw one.  "Yes, it's true."



"I love it!  It makes me want to go dancing."



"Dancing?"



"Elim," said Julian, smiling, "will you take me dancing?"



---

The End.