Chapter Text
Julian’s fingers moved deftly over the medical console, each tap and adjustment a distraction from the heaviness that sat beneath his composure. The infirmary’s routine kept him occupied, a small comfort as he pushed through the tiredness that seemed to follow him everywhere these days. Familiar hum of the equipment was simultaneously comforting, grounding him in the reality of being in a place where he always felt most at home, and isolating: Julian had said his usual cheerful goodbyes to his colleagues a few hours ago, at the end of the first half of his double shift. Normally, he would be out of here by now, too, but nothing was normal anymore, was it?
Ever since his return to the station from the damned camp 371 Julian couldn’t help but double check everything that his doppelgänger has touched in his place, and then everything that he could have potentially touched. Patient files, treatments, medical subroutines, drugs, equipment in both the infirmary and the emergency medkits… so far he hasn’t discovered anything suspicious. It seemed, the changeling wasn’t particularly interested in sabotaging the infirmary (or anything in his quarters, for that matter, at least according to Odo and Chief). Still, Julian felt violated, and, unlike in other areas of his life that the changeling contaminated, this one was at least somewhat under his control. There was research, too — papers put on pause at one point or another, not exactly urgent, but important nonetheless.
Besides, it’s not like he had anything better to do. Sleep evaded him these days, he wasn’t feeling up to socializing with strangers, and the usual company was not available. Chief had a new baby, which was fair enough. Dax and Worf refused to be separated from each other, and he’d rather not third wheel that particular bicycle. And Garak… well, Garak has been avoiding him like the plague since their return.
Julian had a hunch as to why, or rather, a few hunches, but no energy to deal with that particular can of worms. And why should he? Silence was a loud enough message on its own.
The doors hissed open behind Julian, startling him, but he relaxed a second later when a familiar gruff voice called out to him.
“Doctor Bashir, I’m afraid I have a patient for you, reluctant as he is.”
“I’ll be right with you, Odo,” Julian replied, without looking back. He quickly saved his progress and placed a warm smile on his face, preparing to put whoever it was Odo brought to the infirmary at ease. The smile cracked when he turned around, though.
“I assure you, Doctor, I am perfectly fine,” Garak addressed him pleasantly, as if he wasn’t bleeding. Odo huffed skeptically and continued to block the door, as Julian silently stepped closer with a scanner, running it over Garak’s bruised face and then the rest of him, just in case.
“You have a broken neck ridge, a hairline jaw fracture and a nasty gash on your arm,” Julian concluded solemnly. “This is hardly fine.”
He pointed to the nearest biobed, “Please, sit down, I will be with you in a minute.”
While Julian was busy gathering the supplies he needed, Garak attempted to object, then gave up under Odo’s threats to put a guard at the infirmary door if he didn't comply with the CMO’s orders. Julian smiled a bit against himself at that: Odo obviously cared about Garak, even if he was hiding it in his usual aggressive manner. Cared enough, apparently, to drag resisting Garak to the infirmary and force him to receive the treatment. It did sting that Garak would rather suffer through the injuries than get in the same room as Julian, but hey, at least he was here in the end. Odo, having half intimidated, half annoyed Garak onto a bed, excused himself, leaving them alone.
“Really, Doctor, if you could just provide me with a regenerator, I am perfectly capable of handling this myself,” Garak tried as soon as that happened. Julian wished he could match the easy tone and the practiced smile, but he was too tired to play these games right now, so he just put the tray with the supplies on the table next to the bed where Garak was now sitting, attempting to hide his pain and discomfort and failing at that.
“I’m afraid I will have to take a look,” Julian replied, a pale shadow of their usual banter, “It wouldn't be proper to trust my patients to take care of themselves, after all. What happened? Unsatisfied customer?”
"Ah, yes, but not mine this time,” Garak drawled, his tone deceptively light. "It appears I’ve fallen victim to the drunken ineptitude of one of Quark’s less charming patrons. Odo will have him in the holding cell in no time, I’m sure.”
A drunken fight at Quark’s, was that really it? Julian spared a suspicious glance at Garak, as he moved a regenerator over the bruise on Garak’s face. Was there more behind it? An attempt to hurt Garak, specifically? It was no secret that Gul Dukat wanted Garak dead. And now that he was the head of the Cardassian government, he could certainly hire any number of people to stage “accidents”. Then again—Julian reminded himself, as he finished healing the jaw fracture and picked up the scissors to cut off the fabric around the ugly wound on Garak’s left arm—it wasn’t his business. Garak has made it perfectly clear he wanted to be left alone.
The wounds were unpleasant, but not particularly dangerous. Garak, with all his practical experience, probably could take care of them himself. Still, Julian couldn’t bring himself to just send him away: he was a doctor, and he has always cared about his patients more than he, perhaps, should have. It wasn’t just any patient, either. It was Garak. Even if they weren’t on the best of terms right now, and even if it hurt being near him, Julian had to make sure he was okay.
“There are fragments of fabric caught in the wound,” Julian commented unhappily after having a closer look at the long cut, or rather, tear, on Garak’s arm. “I will need to remove them before I close the wound.” He switched the scissors for the numbing spray and supported Garak’s arm with his free hand, moving it into a better position. Garak hissed as the cold compressed air hit his sensitive skin.
“Sorry,” Julian apologized automatically, “It's anaesthetic , give it a moment, and you’ll feel better.”
“I sincerely doubt that! If I didn’t know any better, doctor, I’d think you are enjoying this!”
Julian didn’t reply anything to that, choosing instead to focus on work. Garak attempted a couple more quips, but eventually shut up, leaving him to work in silence. It was weird, grating even: the two of them were always talking, on their own and especially together. They would fall into an easy conversation, or into a heated debate at the slightest provocation, and more than once in less than appropriate circumstances. It was just so damn hard to stop talking, when every sentence demanded a response… But now the idea to even attempt the familiar banter felt hollow to Julian. Something lost, or maybe taken away, or maybe never his to begin with. He would rather get the treatment over with, send Garak on his merry way and maybe even retire to his quarters after all, to try and catch a few hours of sleep. He felt sufficiently exhausted by now to be able to do that.
It was some minutes later, when he was already closing the wound, that Garak spoke again.
“You know, Doctor, your excellent bed manners are making me think I’m not welcome here, despite your insistence I stay.”
His voice was light, unbothered, with that infuriating tone that made everything sound like a joke. Julian tensed, pausing for a few seconds, but not lifting his eyes at the provocation.
“If I misunderstood,” Garak continued, “please, do let me know! If you’d rather I simply vanish and save us both this unpleasantness—“
“Is that what you’ve been doing lately, Garak? Avoiding unpleasantness?” Julian finished with the arm and turned his attention to the neck ridge, tired and tense.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Doctor. I must admit I have been a bit busy lately, so we might have skipped a couple of our usual lunch dates, but—”
Julian scoffed. Garak stumbled at that, but continued stubbornly a moment later.
“Really, Doctor, if I hurt your feelings, I do apologize, but then I was under the impression you were quite content with the state of things. You seem quite eager to patch up my injuries and move onto the next task now, too.”
“If you say so, Garak,” Julian managed, bristling against the way Garak was twisting the truth and the lies together for a compelling narrative. If Julian was less tired, he might have let it slide, finished the job, politely said his goodbyes and left it at that. He probably wouldn’t have seen Garak again, except in passing, until the next time the Cardassian required medical attention. It would have been better that way. But he was exhausted, physically and emotionally, and for once he didn’t bother holding back. “I suppose you would know more than the rest of us about completing a task and moving to the next one. Honestly, I don’t know why I ever expected anything more than that. Don’t worry, you won’t have to come up with excuses to cancel on me from now on.”
It hurt—this unwelcome, unexpected confrontation, so soft in phrasing it almost didn’t look like one, and so sharp in meaning Julian felt like he needed some strings and needles to patch up his heart as he patched up Kukalaka back when he was a little boy. The insincere, pointed apology. The lies. The avoidance. The ease with which Garak moved on after everything they’ve been through. The clinical detachment Julian was forcing onto himself in the moment, to mask both anger and betrayed affection.
“I see,” Garak’s voice now turned fully venomous, abandoning the pretense of ignorance. “Is this what you think of me? That you were only ‘a task’ for me, that I now deem completed? That I use everyone around me as I see fit and abandon them at will? Tell me, Doctor, when exactly did you decide I wasn’t worth the trouble anymore?”
Julian huffed out his frustration at the questions Garak masterfully turned into weapons. Did he think that Garak used people and then discarded them... As if Julian's opinion on the topic mattered. As if it was all Julian's fault: misunderstanding the ever elusive Garak, failing at protecting his heart... being so damn easy to replace!
As if it was him who abandoned Garak, and not the other way around!
He lifted his head, finally meeting Garak's eyes with his own, full of barely contained hurt and anger, his words dripping with ice cold poison. "Whatever else you would like to ask me, Garak? Maybe, when did I stop drinking Romulan Ale first thing in the morning? Or when did I decide to wear skirts to the infirmary? Anything else?"
Garak looked startled by his absurd response, but what did he expect to hear? What right did he even have to ask these ridiculous questions? If they could even be called questions where they were obviously meant as attacks.
"Tell me I'm wrong, Garak!" he continued, heating up further. "Tell me you didn't approach me in order to get what you wanted. That I wasn't just a means to an end—someone to keep you company when you didn’t have any other options.“ Responding shocked silence spoke volumes. "No? I thought so!" Julian sighed sadly, lowering his gaze again to continue working on the injury.
“Yes, Doctor,” Garak replied, his voice colder now, laced with a bitter edge Julian couldn’t help but feel guilty about. “I have approached you because I wanted something out of you. A way to get closer to the new management. A company to keep me entertained. You are no fool, Doctor, you know that. You’ve always known that. But it is not where it stopped, and you damn well know that, too!”
Did he, though? Julian finished with the ridge and put the regenerator down, stepping back and crossing his arms on his chest. Garak spoke with such passionate indignation, it almost felt sincere. And maybe, in his own way, Garak even believed what he was saying. Maybe, he considered Julian a friend. He certainly trusted Julian with things he didn’t disclose elsewhere (although, at this point Julian couldn’t even be sure about that). But what did it matter when he didn’t behave like a friend when Julian needed him most? What did it matter, if he ran away the moment Julian needed support, and not the other way around? Julian didn’t hear two words from him since their return. Not when Julian was frantically catching up on everything he missed. Not when he was sitting at their usual spot at the replimat alone, waiting for a friend who never showed up. Not even when his father was arrested and Julian’s genetic status was publicly disclosed, leading to some of the Starfleet officers stationed on DS9 starting to avoid him as he always suspected they would. No, Garak was happily walking around with Ziyal and conveniently changing direction whenever he crossed eyes with Julian across the Promenade.
“You understood perfectly when our... arrangement changed into something more,” Garak continued, leaning forward slightly, as if challenging Julian—the pose so familiar from their many friendly debates, it stung. “Or at least I thought you did. But clearly, I’ve misjudged you—because here you are, throwing it in my face as if it meant nothing. As if I’ve spent years toying with you, when it’s you who’s treating me as little more than an obligation!”
“Why do you even care, Garak?” Julian asked tiredly. He felt raw, and frail, and utterly unprepared to deal with Garak’s particular brand of complexity. He needed to make it simple, even if Garak despised such directedness. “You didn’t even notice that you spent a month with a stranger in my place. You, the former pride of the Obsidian order, so inattentive! Was it really that good of a fake, Garak, or was it just good enough for what you wanted? Or maybe you even preferred him. Miles mentioned he was easier to get along with, after all.” Julian’s voice cracked at that particular memory, but he pressed on. “Regardless, I’m sure you can find another replacement for whatever it is you used to get from me, if you haven’t already! Honestly, I don’t see a reason to maintain this illusion of a friendship. Just… stop. It is hard enough as it is.”
Julian saw the effect his words were having on Garak: the way his eyes flew open in shock, and then narrowed again, the way his jaws tightened and his lips turned into a thin line. Julian saw it, and was darkly delighted in it—in the fact he could still cause some kind of reaction in Garak. Part of him wanted to shake Garak and ask him, “How could you not notice?” and “Why did you abandon me the moment we returned from that hell?”. Another part just wanted to get away and forget this evening even happened. He felt relieved that he let out some of his hurt, and pathetic because he needed it at all. And sad, just so sad that he was now cutting off the last shreds of whatever connected them for so long with his own hands.
Garak didn’t intend to make it easy on him, too, ever the contrarian.
“Stop?” he repeated, incredulous, his voice rising in pitch. It always happened when he was frustrated, Julian noted. "You think I can just stop? You think it’s that simple for me?" He stood up from the biobed, getting closer, right in Julian’s face. That was also painfully familiar. Julian forced himself to stand his ground. “As if I could replace you with anyone, just like that!"
“Ziyal—“
“Ziyal is a lovely young lady,” Garak interrupted him fiercely, “who is less than half my age, and also has nothing to do with this whatsoever! Really, Doctor, must I spell every little thing to you? I thought we were long past it!”
Julian just glared at him at that, finding the anger that has previously subsided rising in him, again.
“Do you think I didn’t notice the difference? Do you think it was easy to watch you—or someone I thought was you—suddenly grow colder, shallower, quieter around me?! But he passed every blood test, Julian! He was the one suggesting the blood tests, reminding us of the danger! What was I supposed to think, but that you wanted the distance?!”
“I waited for you!” Julian spit out, not able to hold his pain back anymore, regardless of how pathetic it made him feel. It shut Garak up, at least. “I was sure that of all the people you would notice, you would sound an alarm, track me down and come to the rescue! You, Garak! Every day in that hell hole I was pushing through, safe in the knowledge that no changeling would be able to trick you, because you are the most paranoid person I’ve ever met, and because you know me! But I guess you don’t know me at all! The moment I saw the shock in your eyes when you saw me there, I realized you had no idea. I’ve been gone for a month, and no one had any idea! No one cared enough to notice. Who knew I would be so easy to replace?!”
“You weren’t! You aren’t,” Garak protested, visibly disturbed by the idea. Julian huffed, finding it darkly amusing. He was disturbed by that idea himself at first. He was now getting used to it. One cannot afford to be continuously disturbed by reality for weeks on end, after all. Garak placed his hands on Julian’s shoulders, squeezing gently. Julian recoiled instinctively, but Garak tightened his grasp, refusing to let him step away.
“Julian, you are impossible to replace,” Garak insisted solemnly, and this time it didn’t sound fake. “I’m sorry that I let you down. That we all let you down. I am truly sorry. This is not on you, though! There are a dozen reasons as to why I allowed myself to be tricked, but none of them have anything to do with you. The moment I saw you in that camp, I knew how vast the difference was, and what a fool I was to get confused. Please believe me. Even if I tried, no one could take your place: not the changeling, not Ziyal, not anyone else. I do care a great deal about you.”
Julian wanted to believe him. Garak was uncharacteristically direct, Julian only saw him like this once: at Tain’s deathbed. Not even when he himself was dying, did Garak so completely abandon his attempts to add layer upon layer of possible interpretations onto every sentence. Julian wanted to believe him, to trust that he wasn’t just a temporary solution to Garak’s loneliness in exile, but he wasn’t sure he could.
“If you care,” he said, clenching his fists and looking straight into Garak’s desperate blue eyes, “why have you been avoiding me since we returned? Where have you been when I needed you, Garak? If you want me in your life, why is it you are only here now, after Odo dragged you in, bleeding and in dire need of medical attention?”
Garak finally let go of him at that, stepping back to the biobed, and Julian wasn’t entirely sure if he felt regret or relief at being released. He stayed where he was, waiting for an answer: hoping for some magical words that would make it okay again, and simultaneously bracing himself for the inevitable disappointment.
“I was selfish,” Garak said quietly. “I didn’t know how to face you after I let you down, but also—after what you saw of me in the camp. You know how I feel about showing weakness, Doctor.”
Julian nodded, “You’d rather pretend it never happened. I remember.”
“Exactly,” Garak smiled sadly. “Now that Tain is dead, you are probably the person who knows me best, Doctor. It is… terrifying for a man like me.”
“I wasn’t the only one who saw you struggle, Garak,” Julian reminded him. “And having a mental condition isn’t anything to be ashamed of.”
“Oh, I am not talking about the inconvenience of my claustrophobia flare up, Doctor! Surely, you know better…”
“Tain?” Julian asked softly, after thinking about it for a few seconds. It had surprised him at the time: that Garak allowed him to stay and witness such an intimate moment. It didn’t particularly fit into the narrative of Garak using him for a company, either, but Julian figured, there are always exceptional moments that do not change much in the overall picture.
“Tain,” Garak confirmed. “To show such… open sentimentality towards such a man. To seek his approval after everything he’s done. I am not proud of it, Doctor. It wasn’t easy to share it.”
“Then why did you?” Julian asked, relaxing enough to notice his nails no longer dug into the flesh of his hands. He was always defenseless against vulnerability. Garak knew that, of course, and could very well have been using it against him now. Julian didn’t think he was, though. What would be the point? To retain his precious company? That would indicate his company was indeed precious, and close the logical chain into a circle.
“I don’t know, and that is what scared me once the adrenalin wore off. Once we were safely out of the Dominion space and on our way home, I couldn’t but confront why I did it, and what it meant. So I did what I do best: I withdrew so I could sort it out.” Garak winced, and Julian caught himself thinking it was probably painful for him to admit all of this. Julian didn’t say anything, though. Even if it was hard for Garak to say, and Julian did appreciate he was trying, it still wasn’t a good enough explanation. He still felt hurt, and abandoned. Still couldn’t quite believe in whatever it was Garak was trying to tell him.
“I’m sorry my selfishness hurt you, Julian,” Garak’s voice dropped, softer now, as if each word cost him. “It’s no excuse, but to be honest, I didn’t realize my temporary absence would affect you this much. You have friends, after all. I expected that in between all the attention Chief O’Brien and Commander Dax were bound to shower you in, you wouldn’t even notice I wasn’t there. Then, your parents arrived and I had even less of a reason to interfere. You didn’t seem particularly eager to contact me either, after all.”
“For such a smart man, Garak, you can be pretty dumb,” Julian couldn’t help but grumble. “I didn’t contact you because you made it clear you didn’t want my company.”
“I can see that now,” Garak agreed easily, regret clear in his voice and his eyes. “I don’t know how to make this right, Julian,” he admitted. “I don’t know what I can do to fix what’s been broken. But I do want to try. I want to understand how to move forward, if you’ll let me. Because I care, and I don’t want to lose you, not like this.”
Neither of them knew how to move forward, even if both of them wanted to find a way. Julian didn’t miss the irony: they were two of the most intelligent people on the station, and yet they were utterly lost. He kind of felt that maybe captain Sisko would be able to guide them, but he threw this idea away as soon as it crossed his mind. Two people were plenty, adding anyone else in this mess would be confusing and embarrassing at best.
Garak's apologies and insistence that he cared for him soothed some of Julian's pain, at least. Enough that he could let go of the anger and start processing everything that's been said between them in this infirmary today. The way Garak was pissed off at the idea of Julian being replaceable. The way Garak couldn't contain his ire when Julian suggested he was but a means to a goal for Garak. The hurt in Garak's voice when he accused Julian of abandoning him, pushing him away. “When exactly did you decide I wasn’t worth the trouble anymore?" Garak asked at the time.
They could start there, maybe. In the middle of their pain.
"Show me that you care, don’t just say it,” he pleaded finally. "Make me feel that you do. Ask me questions, and let me ask mine. I don't know how to get out of this dark hole, Garak, but I doubt we can do it if we don't make an effort to see each other... I want you to see me. I want to feel that you do."
He smiled a bit sadly, attempting to make light of the trauma he went through and failing, "And if you want to put some fancy spy tracker on me so you could find me if I'm ever kidnapped again, I wouldn't say no to that."
Garak’s eyes narrowed slightly as if he heard the underlying fear in Julian’s joke about the tracker. He probably did, too—Julian spent most of his life practicing concealing parts of himself he couldn’t afford to let out, but he was never that good of a liar with Garak, and now he wasn’t even trying to be. When Garak reached out and gently took Julian’s hands in his own, his touch firm but reassuring, Julian didn’t resist. He allowed Garak to uncurl his defensive pose and pull him closer until they both could sit on the biobed.
“Oh, my dear doctor,” Garak said softly, his voice thick with emotion, “I won’t let anyone take you away from me again. I promise.”
Garak's solemn promise to keep him safe resonated deeply with Julian. Maybe he needed to hear it, or something like it. It was stupid, Julian knew that. He was a Starfleet officer, a trained professional. He had been in battle zones, had been shot at and wounded numerous times, and had dealt with life and death situations regularly. And yet, to fall asleep in the safety of his bed and to wake up in an enemy internment camp has shaken his sense of security more than any of the brushes with death ever did. It made it hard to fall asleep, and harder yet to stay asleep. He felt a bit better in the moment, under the heavy weight of Garak’s attention.
“I need to understand more about what you went through,” Garak continued quietly, his concern evident. “Did they hurt you? What did they do to you in that prison before me and commander Worf got there?”
Julian winced and looked away. He put the details in his report to Starfleet, but it wasn’t exactly the same thing to write up his experiences for the military in a way that was useful in their war against the Dominion. Ironically, being in the prison camp was easier than the aftermath of it. Back then he had to be constantly on high alert; he had to take care of others, which for him always managed to distract him from his own struggles. Certainly when Garak arrived at the camp, Julian had put on his best stoic face: Tain was dying, Worf was... well, Worf was his usual Klingon self and only required treatments for his physical wounds, at least. But Garak... Garak was scared shitless and hiding it badly. Julian needed to keep it together in order for all of them to make it out alive.
Now, though, he had nothing to take his attention away from reliving the events again and again, from analyzing what he could have done differently. From questioning his place on DS9, and whether he had it in him to remain here when it seemed he greatly overestimated his own significance in the lives of the station's inhabitants. Julian felt selfish and childish for thinking that way, but he couldn't help it, only hide it.
He wanted someone to see through the disguise. He wanted someone to force him to open up. He wanted someone to care. Now that Garak was here and asking questions, albeit only after a prompt from Julian himself, it was simultaneously overwhelming and very welcome.
"They tried to make me fight," Julian started, looking at his hands, "to make me kill. I refused. Repeatedly. There were punishments. Sometimes, they would just lock me up in solitary for a few days, deprive me from light, nutrition and company. Sometimes, they would beat me up in the arena first. Sometimes they would kill someone else in front of me and tell me it was my fault, that the other was paying a price for my refusal to cooperate. I think it brought the Vorta in charge of a camp some kind of a perverse pleasure. It’s probably why they kept me alive. Jem’hadar took a simpler approach.“
His voice shook as the memories flooded him, and suddenly despite the perfectly acceptable temperature in the infirmary he was freezing. He pushed himself to continue speaking, fearing that if he didn't get it out now, he might never be able to, and the memories would rot and fester inside of him, keeping him always one leg trapped in those horrible moments.
"Sometimes, after they have reduced me to a pile of bruised flesh, he would mock me. Tell me there was no need to hold on to my Starfleet ideals, because Starfleet was not coming for me. He said nobody was coming, because nobody knew I was gone. Nobody would notice that I've been replaced not because the replacement was perfect, but because nobody cared enough to know me. He said that was why the Founders chose me. I did not want to believe him, but... it was hard. And then..."
And then he realized the Vorta was right, didn't he? His trust in Garak was what got him through all the torture relatively intact, but later it was the realisation that his trust had been misplaced that unraveled him. Garak explained himself well enough, and Julian wanted to believe him, but it was still... a lot.
“He was wrong, you know,” Garak squeezed his fingers gently, bringing his attention back into the moment. Julian lifted his gaze, and something inside of him soothed at the sight of the sheer amount of pain and worry on his behalf. “You may have doubted it, may still doubt it, but he was wrong. You are cared for, my dear, more than you realize. I know I failed you and I’ll regret that for the rest of my life." Garak’s thumb brushed against Julian’s knuckles—a small, comforting gesture. "You didn’t deserve what they'd done to you, and I can’t begin to imagine how difficult it was for you to hold on. But I swear to you, Julian, I’ll never let anyone take you away from me again. You are not replaceable. Not to me."
“You can be very convincing when you put your mind to it,” Julian sighed, giving up that particular wall.
“I’ve been told that before,” Garak smiled a quiet private smile, so different from his usual overtly wide ones. It was, possibly, at that moment, that Julian felt the weight on his shoulders finally let off a bit.
He leaned forward, closing the remaining space between them to lean his forehead against Garak’s, and then closing his eyes and relaxing into the touch and into the comfort Garak so freely and fiercely offered. Julian felt unraveled, weak, almost on the verge of tears—but it was a good feeling, because for once he also felt that he could afford being weak. Because he dared to trust that Garak would hold him whole and protect until he needed to be strong again.
“I don't think I should be treating any more patients today," he whispered into the small intimate space between them, recognising and admitting his state. "And I don't think we should continue this conversation here, even if we'd been lucky to be alone so far. Will you take me home and stay with me? I need you close, Garak."
"Of course," Garak whispered back, his voice low and soothing. "I’ll take you home. I’ll stay as long as you need me to." He carefully pulled back, just enough to look Julian in the eye, the intensity of his promise reflected there. “And as close as you want me to.”
Julian nodded catching the hint but lacking the energy to properly deal with that at this very moment. He had already been exhausted before Garak even walked in (or rather, was forced in) today, and the heavy conversation that followed only made it worse. He moved as if in a dream, allowing Garak to lead him through the motions.
He listened quietly as Garak contacted Sisko on his behalf to explain that Dr Bashir will be taking the rest of the shift and possibly a couple more days off to take care of himself. Julian couldn't help but wonder at the annoyed, insistent edge of Garak's voice with which he replied to Sisko's enquiries as to the reasons of the sudden leave of absence, as well as why Julian himself couldn't talk to him. It almost sounded as if Garak was upset at Sisko for something. He didn't have the mental energy to dig into it though, so he just allowed himself to relax and follow Garak's steady voice and his gentle hands as they lead him out of the infirmary and into the corridors.
They somehow avoided running into anyone, with Garak expertly weaving their path through the rarely used stairs and hallways instead of taking the direct route through the Promenade. Julian was grateful.
Once they reached his quarters, he unlocked the door and walked in first, inviting Garak to join him with a vague gesture. And then he just stood in the middle of the room, unsure of what to do with himself next. They had more to talk through, and wasn't that exactly the plan? To move into a more private area, so they could continue their difficult but necessary conversation? But now that they were here, alone and safe in the privacy of Julian's room, he was unsure. He didn’t particularly feel up to more talking. He didn’t want to be left alone, either. It had been easy to lean into Garak in the spur of the moment and whisper that he wanted him close when Garak was already holding his hands. It was much, much harder to ask Garak to hold him again. Not to mention to even start explaining to himself and to Garak why that was such a comfort.
Luckily for him, Garak seemed to have been braver, or just calmer. He approached Julian first, after it became clear Julian wasn't going to do anything.
"You are shaking, my dear," Garak said carefully, and Julian realized with a start, that indeed, he was. How embarrassing. His nerves must have been getting the best of him.
“Sorry.”
“No need to apologize. May I?” Garak lightly touched his shoulder to clarify the question, and Julian nodded in relief. He closed his eyes and let himself be guided into a full body embrace. Garak held him as if he was precious, rubbing his back in gentle circles and tangling his fingers in Julian's hair. After a few seconds, Julian silently hugged him back, basking in his steady presence.
"I wish our first hug had been under different circumstances," he whispered. "But this is nice. Thank you, Garak."
“It’s my pleasure, my dear. Under any circumstances,” Garak replied softly, continuing to stroke his hair and—Julian noted contentedly—not objecting to the premise that this hug was the first of an unknown number yet to come. After weeks of feeling lonely and disconnected, it was a weird thought. Julian had all but given up on their friendship and yet here they were, closer than ever and strongly vibing with a mutual silent agreement that today they finally stepped beyond friendship—a move years in the making.
They stayed like that for a few more minutes, just holding each other quietly, until Julian softly pushed away. Garak allowed him to put enough distance between them to look at each other but didn’t let go completely, and Julian smiled at that small gesture of reassurance. He hesitated for a few seconds but, ultimately, if this evening had taught him anything it was that Garak wasn’t going to turn him away if he asked for help directly.
“Can we lie down for a bit?” Julian asked, carefully watching Garak’s face for any signs of rejection. Garak’s eyes widened as he processed the “we” part of it, but he nodded almost immediately.
“I’d like to talk some more,” Julian clarified. “But I am way too tired for that right now.”
Garak nodded again. “I didn’t want to mention it, but you do look terrible, Doctor. Have you been sleeping alright?”
“Not really,” Julian admitted. “I didn’t realize it was showing that badly, though. Is my charmingly boyish smile not satisfying you anymore, Garak?”
“Not so boyish anymore, Doctor,” Garak teased back affectionately, “but still rather charming. I was rather referring to the darkness under your eyes, though. You look exhausted.”
“I am,” Julian sighed. “And I am in the mood to do something about it.”
He stepped away from Garak and towards the bed, briefly considering getting changed, but deciding against it. He would only lie down for a little bit, after all. A little nap, or maybe even just a little cuddle in a horizontal position. He settled on top of the blanket and patted the bed in a silent invite. Garak joined him awkwardly, with an unhappy face—clearly displeased with something but not daring to voice it.
“What is it, Garak?” Julian probed tiredly. “If you’d rather leave and come back later—“
“It’s not that,” Garak protested immediately, shifting closer and tentatively hugging Julian as if to prove his point. Julian smiled at him encouragingly. “It’s just, it dawned on me again how much I missed. I didn’t realize you were struggling with such a basic thing as sleep. I really should have known.”
“I forgive you,” Julian yawned and shuffled closer to Garak, turning around in his arms to get comfortable. “Now shush and rest for a bit.”
It was the last thing he remembered, until he woke up a good twelve hours later, still wrapped in Garak’s embrace and feeling better rested than he did in weeks.