This takes place shortly after Inter Arma Enim Silent Leges. The standard disclaimer applies. Feel free to archive, as long as it has my name on it.

GOOD ADVICE

He was so lost in thought he didn't realize she was there until she spoke.

"Don't do it."

He looked up, startled. "I beg your pardon?"

"Don't do it," she repeated, and took a sip from her glass.

"Don't do what?"

She gave a tiny shrug. "Whatever it is you're planning. It won't work. It never does."

He narrowed his eyes at her, quickly on guard. He didn't recognize her, for all that she wore a Starfleet uniform, a chief's stripes on her collar. He was beginning not to trust anyone.

"You don't understand the rules, yet," she continued, leaning back slightly. "And the game does have rules. The first being: there's no escape."

"Who are you?" he demanded, leaning forward. He lowered his voice, though in the usual bustle of Quark's, no one would have heard him anyway.

She smiled over the rim of her glass. "Believe it or not, a friend, here to give you a little friendly advice."

"Why?"

"Do you know what they call us, the ones dragged into the Section kicking and screaming?" she asked conversationally. "They call us drex. Because, like Denebian drex, we bid our time, and wait for the opportunity to strike. Don't think they're not watching, Bashir. Don't think they don't realize you're looking for a backdoor, or a loophole, or an escape hatch. They know. And they can stop you. Get too close to getting out and people around you start to drop like flies. Accidents do happen, after all. Especially during war."

His mouth went dry, and he took a long drink before meeting her eyes again. They weren't cold, like Sloan's eyes. He thought he saw sadness in their depths. But there was a hardness, too. A hardness he had seen reflected back at him in his mirror more and more often these days. "Why?" he asked again. "Why tell me this?"

She looked off to one side, gazing steadily as something. Unconciously he looked that way, also, and spotted Garak entering the bar, pausing to speak with Morn. "It speeds things up, to have someone knowledgeable in Cardassian code, to go over the transmissions we pick up. But not necessary. And no one would make too much of a fuss, if a traitor should suddenly fall ill, or be assassinated." She stood, emptying her glass. "The war goes on, after all." She put the glass down, and smiled faintly. "It would be a shame, really. I rather like him." And she turned away, disappearing into the crowd.

He stared after her, rage and fear making his hands shake. Then he remembered her words. Because, like Denebian drex, we bid our time, and wait....

Yes. He could wait. He could be patient. And maybe, just maybe, find an ally or two. After all, drex hunted in packs.