ABOUT A MONTH BEFORE THE TEMPORARY EVACUATION OF DEEP SPACE NINE, 2296The man who walked into Elim Garak's shop was supposedly Adam Ingalls, Chief Engineer aboard the Defiant-Class USS Essex, commanded by Iowa's second son, Captain Walter Macleod. But in truth, he was an Immortal. The Oldest of all known Terran Immortals. He was called Methos.
During Earth's Bronze Age, he rode with The Four Horsemen Of The Apocalypse. He was Death, slayer of ten thousand and enslaver of a thousand others, including a woman named Cassandra. He was a rapist and a thug and a manipulator. Only the passage of millenia and many cold, harsh realizations changed him. No longer a thug, he was still a survivor, no matter what he had to do. Once, he had slain one of his fellow Horsemen, and had really thought not too much of it. All he had to say, after the Quickening, was :
"I killed Silas! I killed Silas! I liked Silas!"
And he had, too.
The man behind the counter was Elim Garak, exiled Cardassian and former member of The Obsidian Order. It was a series of fateful accidents that placed him on the side of The Angels, or Prophets, as the case may be. Many of his missions were unknown, but he had never said they were nice missions. Far from it. He was a cold assassin plus whatever else he needed to be. While he never hid what he was in deed, he did keep it quiet in word. Once, he had killed a fellow member of The Obsidian Order, a man who was very surprised to see him on Cardassia Prime. His only words :
"A Pity. I Rather Liked Him."
Now, it should be noted, these two men, once so very ruthless, had changed, and had turned against their former barbaric allies to save their new friends. But still, the two men who now faced each other were men with deep, dark pasts. Methos broke the icy silence.
"Are my pants ready yet?"
"Yes, sir. May I ask what kind of sword cut them?"
"You know better than to ask that, Garak."
As he collected his favorite trousers, Methos walked out and bumped into Rom as he did. Rom excused himself, and walked in.
"What did he say, Garak?"
"Sorry, Rom. But he's good at keeping quiet. Almost as good as you are at playing dumb."
Rom nodded.
"I have to keep up the act. After all, if I let on that I have a clue, someone's bound to peg me as a Watcher!"
"Nah. As far as Morn's concerned, you just like to hear his stories. Where does he keep that sword, though?"
Rom shook his head.
"Just trust me, Garak. You do not want to know that."
So Garak let it go.