Fic: Second First Impression (Garak/Bashir)
Title: Second First Impression
Fandom: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Summary: It occurred to Garak that... this was the first time he had conversed with Julian.
Characters: Garak/Bashir, mention of others
Rating: PG-13
Length: ~3100
Beta: lady-drace kept me on the straight and narrow, so to speak. Thank ye kindly!
Spoilers: 5.14 “In Purgatory's Shadow”, 5.15 “By Inferno's Light”, 5.16 "Doctor Bashir, I Presume"
Warnings: Non-linear narrative. Andy Robinson's “A Stitch in Time” describes Cardassians as being able to remember the past and present simultaneously; I ran with the idea a little.
Author's Notes: Additional missing scene for 5.16 "Doctor Bashir, I Presume", sequelish to The Night Before. Takes the Cardassia as depicted in "A Stitch in Time" as canon, though no major spoilers for the book.
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
It wasn't until the door had closed and he was alone in his quarters once more that it occurred to Garak that although he had spent a number of years in the company of his dear doctor, this was the first time he had conversed with Julian.
Despite all his training and instincts, the realisation humbled him.
o o o o o
Had he not been cast out of Cardassian - civilised - society, Garak was quite sure that he would have retreated to the vast underground networks that characterised the Mekar Wilderness, a place that in his mind was as beautiful as it was deadly, for the whole idea of retreat meant an advance towards individualism and isolation that was considered abhorrent by the State. That had never stopped Garak craving the possibility of wandering the colour shifting caves alone, searching for something he had never been sure he could find - or identify.
He had spent most of his life alone in one way or another, though always in the company of others, Cardassians and aliens alike. Duty came before any semblance of self, a lesson hard learned and harder forgotten, and so Garak had learned to function with the unwanted presence of everyone else around him. As much as he had craved that need to conform in his youth, in more recent years he had come to appreciate the solitude far more than any Cardassian should.
The irony had provided a perverse amusement to him since his incarceration on Deep Space Nine. For all that he had extolled the virtues of The Never Ending Sacrifice to Doctor Bashir, Garak had long since reconciled with himself that the ideals of the State and those of the individual - more precisely himself - had always been different.
Doctor Bashir.
Therein lay the root of the current problem.
Garak craved nothing more than to be alone, away from the prying eyes of anybody who could perceive what his doctor would doubtless call a "fragile emotional state", yet at the same time he wanted nothing more than to blend into the seamless entity of the Whole, to become a part of the working machine that the State had promised him and all his former classmates that they would truly become when they Emerged as adults. And Doctor Bashir was the root of the problem because Garak had given him cause to see another facet of himself, something else he had striven to keep hidden all these years.
Although bound by the laughable concept of doctor-patient confidentiality - more so by his own insistence than anything else - the doctor had assured Garak upon their escape from the Dominion internment camp that they would work together to overcome this newly discovered weakness.
And a weakness it was, for Garak had never noticed before the time he had spent as a "guest" at Internment Camp 371 just what the true conditions were of the Cardassian space station now under the purview of the Bajorans and managed by the Federation.
Small. Had he not possessed a photographic memory and a self-confessed magnificent eye for detail, Garak would have sworn on anything worthwhile he could have laid claim to that his quarters had shrunk while he had been in the Gamma Quadrant. That the jeweller occupying the shop next to his on the Promenade had moved the wall inwards on his own space by several units.
He had been unable to retreat to the mythical respite of the caverns, even his mind unable to provide the distraction he craved now more than ever, and so Garak had settled for the best available substitute. He locked himself into his small, tightly enclosed, packed shop and refused all business related enquiries.
He was not the only escapee of the internment camp to act this way. General Martok had retreated to assigned quarters on the station, and would eventually return to his family on Quo'noS; Worf had doubtless fallen straight into the entreating arms of his girlfriend; even the Romulan girl would return to her father on her homeworld once she had been declared fit for travel by Doctor Bashir, and until then she was in a self-imposed isolation.
As to the doctor himself, Garak had heard almost nothing, and sought out little more. There were rumours that he had locked himself into the infirmary, and all but the most essential of his medical staff out, until he could account for everything the changeling had done during his incarceration. They held no more merit in Garak's experience than the suggestion that he had been welcomed into the bosom of any eager and willing woman whose identity ranged from that Dabo girl he had once been involved with right up to Major Kira. Whatever course of action the doctor had decided to follow, he would doubtless be supported by his friends and colleagues; encouraged to take whatever course of action he deemed necessary to be able to return to duty again.
For his own part, Garak remained in the dark shop, never lingering on the dimensions of the shop proper and the workroom at the back - never that everything risked getting smaller, that if he was not careful, he would wake up unable to breathe for the walls pressing in against him.
He did not expect to be found.
o o o o o
It was deep into station's night when Garak was roused by the chime to his quarter sounding softly. Irrational thoughts as to the identity of the caller were discarded almost as quickly as they had been formed, leaving a not wholly awake nor fully mentally alert man to finally answer the door.
One of the irrational thoughts stood across the threshold from him, nervousness emanating from every alien pore on his body and yet standing there with more self-assurance than Garak would have thought possible.
As he tried to will away sleep and lowered brain function, opposite him Julian Bashir smiled - softly, in a way Cardassians had never seemed capable of, and with a hint of something else that in his current state Garak could not quite decipher.
"Can I come in?"
o o o o o
It wasn't until after the fact that Garak realised he had been deceived - and it was no added comfort that everyone else had been similarly duped. After all, if Elim Garak had been unable to see past the illusion, then how could anyone else possibly be expected to achieve the same?
In the end he attributed it to complacency on his part. He had grown so used to his one constant companion in this torturous exile behaving in a generally consistent - predictable - manner that when it had mattered, he had failed to notice that his doctor had been replaced by a Founder. He could hardly take the overly dramatic course and proclaim in disbelief to his clientèle that he had spent more than a month trading intelligent conversations with an enemy of the State within which he now resided, but the sentiment was true enough. In retrospect - as so many of the greatest measures of understanding sadly were - it would have been a magnificent opportunity to prove to any observer that he had not lost his edge hemming skirts and measuring inside seams for more than five years.
Oh, how the mighty do fall. Doctor Bashir would have been proud of that particular morsel of self-realisation, which made it all the more troublesome that he had thought it in the first place.
To borrow another human phrase so often overheard from behind the counter in his shop, Garak could also add insult to injury with the rumours and speculation that had permeated even the refuge of his closed shop. There were rumours that one Julian Subatoi Bashir - the human, not the changeling impostor - had ensnared not only everybody on Deep Space Nine, but virtually everybody he had ever come into contact with, in one of the most elaborate, and at the same time one of the simplest deceptions Garak had had the good fortune to encounter.
There were rumours that the good doctor had been hiding genetic enhancements beneath that seemingly naïve exterior of his. Enhancements that he had received as a child.
Had he not been in the depths of a rather fascinating mixture of introspection, self-loathing and even a degree of idealised narcissism, Garak would have been proud of his friend.
o o o o o
“Can I come in?”
Garak stared at the vision in the doorway for some moments. The doctor was wearing civilian clothing, not the usual Starfleet-issued monstrosity - even his comm. badge was missing - and still that indeterminable expression played out across those alien features while he waited patiently for Garak to respond in some way.
Verbal response still escaping him for the moment, Garak simply stood backward from the doorway, allowing his doctor room to enter.
When the door closed behind him, he paused for a moment and then peered at Garak before eventually speaking. “I woke up you up, didn't I?”
“Yes, you did.” Despite regaining the power of speech, Garak's usual charming front continued to elude him. “I trust there isn't some emergency you need my assistance with?”
“Oh, no - no,” Julian replied, still in that maddeningly soft tone of voice. “I just came by to see you.”
“To see how I was doing?” Garak put himself on high mental alert. “I can assure you that's hardly necessary, Doctor.”
To his surprise, Julian laughed - a short, rough sound that contained more recognisable derision than it did humour. “You haven't heard the news?”
“And what news would that be?” Garak asked, wary now.
Julian regarded him for a long moment. “I resigned from Starfleet yesterday morning,” he said finally, his voice no longer so soft, and with no discernible trace of anything in his tone, “and I'm leaving the station in a few hours. For good,” he added by way as an afterthought.
“I see,” Garak said. “Would this be a result of your genetic status being made public?”
To his credit, Julian did not act surprised at the direct statement. Instead he quirked his lips into something of an incomplete smile. “Considering how I broke several Federation laws just applying to Starfleet Medical, I think it's a safe bet that had something to do with it,” he replied easily, as if they had been conversant on his enhancements for years instead of seconds.
Garak allowed himself to smile a little. “And it would seem you were far more... versatile than I could have imagined, my dear.”
Something in Julian's expression flared at the small endearment, though he said nothing about it. Instead his next comment was to the earlier part of Garak's statement. “That's an interesting way to put it.”
“I recall telling you a week ago that I admired the way you had become distrustful and suspicious.” He forestalled Julian's obvious reply with a single raised finger. “I'm aware now it was the Founder infiltrator I was speaking to at the time, but the statement still stands.”
“More or less,” Julian said.
Garak nodded. “Indeed.”
Julian frowned slightly, then smiled slightly. “You're not insulted that I lied to you for almost five years, are you?”
“On the contrary, my dear doctor -” Garak gave the last word particular stress, and indeed Julian's reaction indicated he had noticed, “- I'm flattered. There aren't many people who would attempt to maintain such a deception around me for as long as you have. You ought to be commended.”
“If only Starfleet saw it that way,” Julian added wryly.
For that Garak allowed a full grin. “I always told you Starfleet was a short-sighted organisation,” he replied quickly and easily, revelling in the direction their conversation was now taking. “Now,” he said, changing tone and direction as quickly as he had become accustomed to the previous tone, “what brings you to my quarters so late at night?”
“I wanted to see you before I left,” Julian said sombrely. “Privately,” he added. “And away from your shop.”
“Ah. You heard about that?” Garak asked lightly.
“Everyone heard about that, I'm afraid,” Julian answered. “I heard it from Ziyal. She was under the impression that she and I were friends, and as such she sought me out in the infirmary to ask whether I had attempted to talk you out of the shop.”
“Ah,” Garak said again. “What did you tell her?”
“Major Kira was with her; I felt uncomfortable talking about it myself, so I deflected onto Nerys. She'd been prepared for that conversation anyway and were it not for Ziyal's determination to speak to me first, I'm sure she would have explained why I have a month of memories of station life missing.” He raised an eyebrow. “You didn't take the opportunity to tell her once we got back.”
Garak shook his head slightly, but something Julian had said had already begun to distract him. “The major made it clear to you she had wanted to discuss your incarceration in the Gamma Quadrant with Ziyal?”
Julian drew in a sharp breath. “No,” he admitted.
“Then you could -” Garak made a vague hand motion up and down the line of Julian's head and torso “- infer it?”
“Yes.”
And wasn't that interesting. There was clearly much more to the nature of the doctor's genetic enhancements than he was letting on even now, but Julian seemed unwilling to discuss it further.
“As I was saying though,” he continued, “I wanted to see you.”
“Yes. Privately, you said.” Garak brought his arms up to encompass the stifling confined space around them. “Is this private enough, Doctor?”
Julian smiled again. “Yes.”
“Then was there something in particular you wished to discuss?” For all Julian had been able to infer the major's motives with seemingly little more than a glance, he seemed off-balance right here and now, taking his cues from Garak's words rather than his actions. It was almost as if -
Clarity dawned.
For all Julian could infer other people's actions, as presumably his ability extended far beyond one mere Bajoran former resistance fighter, he seemed unable to do so with Garak. Memories of their multiple interactions, conversations and time spent together in the holosuites quickly flashed through Garak's mind, each one as vivid as the last, and each one confirming his most recent realisation.
“...many things.” Julian's words cut through the reverie, bringing Garak firmly back into the conversation once more.
“I'm afraid I wasn't paying attention, my dear,” he apologised. “What were you saying?”
Amusement coloured with something else flitted across Julian's face. “If time weren't such a pressing issue, many things,” he said. Then: “I promised myself something on the way over here tonight.”
“And what was that?” Garak enquired, almost politely.
Julian hesitated, almost imperceptibly. “That I would do this.”
Without warning, and far more quickly than Garak would have anticipated prior to this evening, he leaned in and kissed Garak on the cheek. He lingered for a few seconds, an impossibly warm presence, before pulling away and once again fixing Garak with that near impenetrable expression.
Except that now Garak could see that mixed in with the anticipation and amusement - and even the little dash of fear that remained - the final missing piece of the puzzle that was his very dear doctor was some kind of arousal.
No. Love.
Great mercies, for how long had he missed that?
Garak couldn't claim that anywhere within himself he could find emotion enough to match that in his doctor's face, but now that he considered, there was more affection than he almost knew what to do with. Certainly more than he had felt for a single individual in the past. How the mighty do fall, indeed.
He brought a hand, shaking only imperceptibly, and rested it on Julian's cheek, a mirror of the action that had been performed only a few seconds before. The human skin under his hand was hot to the touch, the heat both alien and reassuring at the same time.
“Stay.” Garak's voice was shaking as well. In the past that would have been an unforgivable weakness on his part, and certainly one he would have betrayed to no one, not even Tain. But Tain was dead, and Julian was here, and perhaps the revelation of this most magnificent deception did not have to go to waste after all.
“I'll have to leave eventually,” Julian replied softly.
“I could make a few... enquiries,” Garak countered.
At that, Julian laughed, a dimple pulsing under Garak's hand. “I think I'd rather live with the consequences of my actions than yours,” he said simply, but sounding amused nonetheless.
Affecting a sigh, Garak withdrew his hand and instead motioned towards his bed. “If you insist, my dear,” he replied, infusing as much long-suffering weariness as he could manage without sounding saccharine, but unable to keep the sharp spike of relief out of his expression when Julian led him towards the bedroom.
Julian appeared not to notice though, and so Garak made no mention - verbal or otherwise - of the similar relief in the doctor's demeanour when he followed him close behind.
o o o o o
True to his unspoken word Julian stayed until morning when, with a quiet comment about meeting with his soon-to-be-former colleagues for one last breakfast, he eventually extracted himself from a sleepy embrace, straightened his now rumpled clothing and left, though not before dropping one last, lingering kiss to Garak's temple.
It wasn't until the door had closed and he was alone in his quarters once more that it occurred to Garak that although he had spent a number of years in the company of his dear doctor, this was the first time he had conversed with Julian.
Despite all his training and instincts, the realisation humbled him.
And a small part of him hoped it would not be the last time.
Fandom: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Summary: It occurred to Garak that... this was the first time he had conversed with Julian.
Characters: Garak/Bashir, mention of others
Rating: PG-13
Length: ~3100
Beta: lady-drace kept me on the straight and narrow, so to speak. Thank ye kindly!
Spoilers: 5.14 “In Purgatory's Shadow”, 5.15 “By Inferno's Light”, 5.16 "Doctor Bashir, I Presume"
Warnings: Non-linear narrative. Andy Robinson's “A Stitch in Time” describes Cardassians as being able to remember the past and present simultaneously; I ran with the idea a little.
Author's Notes: Additional missing scene for 5.16 "Doctor Bashir, I Presume", sequelish to The Night Before. Takes the Cardassia as depicted in "A Stitch in Time" as canon, though no major spoilers for the book.
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
It wasn't until the door had closed and he was alone in his quarters once more that it occurred to Garak that although he had spent a number of years in the company of his dear doctor, this was the first time he had conversed with Julian.
Despite all his training and instincts, the realisation humbled him.
o o o o o
Had he not been cast out of Cardassian - civilised - society, Garak was quite sure that he would have retreated to the vast underground networks that characterised the Mekar Wilderness, a place that in his mind was as beautiful as it was deadly, for the whole idea of retreat meant an advance towards individualism and isolation that was considered abhorrent by the State. That had never stopped Garak craving the possibility of wandering the colour shifting caves alone, searching for something he had never been sure he could find - or identify.
He had spent most of his life alone in one way or another, though always in the company of others, Cardassians and aliens alike. Duty came before any semblance of self, a lesson hard learned and harder forgotten, and so Garak had learned to function with the unwanted presence of everyone else around him. As much as he had craved that need to conform in his youth, in more recent years he had come to appreciate the solitude far more than any Cardassian should.
The irony had provided a perverse amusement to him since his incarceration on Deep Space Nine. For all that he had extolled the virtues of The Never Ending Sacrifice to Doctor Bashir, Garak had long since reconciled with himself that the ideals of the State and those of the individual - more precisely himself - had always been different.
Doctor Bashir.
Therein lay the root of the current problem.
Garak craved nothing more than to be alone, away from the prying eyes of anybody who could perceive what his doctor would doubtless call a "fragile emotional state", yet at the same time he wanted nothing more than to blend into the seamless entity of the Whole, to become a part of the working machine that the State had promised him and all his former classmates that they would truly become when they Emerged as adults. And Doctor Bashir was the root of the problem because Garak had given him cause to see another facet of himself, something else he had striven to keep hidden all these years.
Although bound by the laughable concept of doctor-patient confidentiality - more so by his own insistence than anything else - the doctor had assured Garak upon their escape from the Dominion internment camp that they would work together to overcome this newly discovered weakness.
And a weakness it was, for Garak had never noticed before the time he had spent as a "guest" at Internment Camp 371 just what the true conditions were of the Cardassian space station now under the purview of the Bajorans and managed by the Federation.
Small. Had he not possessed a photographic memory and a self-confessed magnificent eye for detail, Garak would have sworn on anything worthwhile he could have laid claim to that his quarters had shrunk while he had been in the Gamma Quadrant. That the jeweller occupying the shop next to his on the Promenade had moved the wall inwards on his own space by several units.
He had been unable to retreat to the mythical respite of the caverns, even his mind unable to provide the distraction he craved now more than ever, and so Garak had settled for the best available substitute. He locked himself into his small, tightly enclosed, packed shop and refused all business related enquiries.
He was not the only escapee of the internment camp to act this way. General Martok had retreated to assigned quarters on the station, and would eventually return to his family on Quo'noS; Worf had doubtless fallen straight into the entreating arms of his girlfriend; even the Romulan girl would return to her father on her homeworld once she had been declared fit for travel by Doctor Bashir, and until then she was in a self-imposed isolation.
As to the doctor himself, Garak had heard almost nothing, and sought out little more. There were rumours that he had locked himself into the infirmary, and all but the most essential of his medical staff out, until he could account for everything the changeling had done during his incarceration. They held no more merit in Garak's experience than the suggestion that he had been welcomed into the bosom of any eager and willing woman whose identity ranged from that Dabo girl he had once been involved with right up to Major Kira. Whatever course of action the doctor had decided to follow, he would doubtless be supported by his friends and colleagues; encouraged to take whatever course of action he deemed necessary to be able to return to duty again.
For his own part, Garak remained in the dark shop, never lingering on the dimensions of the shop proper and the workroom at the back - never that everything risked getting smaller, that if he was not careful, he would wake up unable to breathe for the walls pressing in against him.
He did not expect to be found.
o o o o o
It was deep into station's night when Garak was roused by the chime to his quarter sounding softly. Irrational thoughts as to the identity of the caller were discarded almost as quickly as they had been formed, leaving a not wholly awake nor fully mentally alert man to finally answer the door.
One of the irrational thoughts stood across the threshold from him, nervousness emanating from every alien pore on his body and yet standing there with more self-assurance than Garak would have thought possible.
As he tried to will away sleep and lowered brain function, opposite him Julian Bashir smiled - softly, in a way Cardassians had never seemed capable of, and with a hint of something else that in his current state Garak could not quite decipher.
"Can I come in?"
o o o o o
It wasn't until after the fact that Garak realised he had been deceived - and it was no added comfort that everyone else had been similarly duped. After all, if Elim Garak had been unable to see past the illusion, then how could anyone else possibly be expected to achieve the same?
In the end he attributed it to complacency on his part. He had grown so used to his one constant companion in this torturous exile behaving in a generally consistent - predictable - manner that when it had mattered, he had failed to notice that his doctor had been replaced by a Founder. He could hardly take the overly dramatic course and proclaim in disbelief to his clientèle that he had spent more than a month trading intelligent conversations with an enemy of the State within which he now resided, but the sentiment was true enough. In retrospect - as so many of the greatest measures of understanding sadly were - it would have been a magnificent opportunity to prove to any observer that he had not lost his edge hemming skirts and measuring inside seams for more than five years.
Oh, how the mighty do fall. Doctor Bashir would have been proud of that particular morsel of self-realisation, which made it all the more troublesome that he had thought it in the first place.
To borrow another human phrase so often overheard from behind the counter in his shop, Garak could also add insult to injury with the rumours and speculation that had permeated even the refuge of his closed shop. There were rumours that one Julian Subatoi Bashir - the human, not the changeling impostor - had ensnared not only everybody on Deep Space Nine, but virtually everybody he had ever come into contact with, in one of the most elaborate, and at the same time one of the simplest deceptions Garak had had the good fortune to encounter.
There were rumours that the good doctor had been hiding genetic enhancements beneath that seemingly naïve exterior of his. Enhancements that he had received as a child.
Had he not been in the depths of a rather fascinating mixture of introspection, self-loathing and even a degree of idealised narcissism, Garak would have been proud of his friend.
o o o o o
“Can I come in?”
Garak stared at the vision in the doorway for some moments. The doctor was wearing civilian clothing, not the usual Starfleet-issued monstrosity - even his comm. badge was missing - and still that indeterminable expression played out across those alien features while he waited patiently for Garak to respond in some way.
Verbal response still escaping him for the moment, Garak simply stood backward from the doorway, allowing his doctor room to enter.
When the door closed behind him, he paused for a moment and then peered at Garak before eventually speaking. “I woke up you up, didn't I?”
“Yes, you did.” Despite regaining the power of speech, Garak's usual charming front continued to elude him. “I trust there isn't some emergency you need my assistance with?”
“Oh, no - no,” Julian replied, still in that maddeningly soft tone of voice. “I just came by to see you.”
“To see how I was doing?” Garak put himself on high mental alert. “I can assure you that's hardly necessary, Doctor.”
To his surprise, Julian laughed - a short, rough sound that contained more recognisable derision than it did humour. “You haven't heard the news?”
“And what news would that be?” Garak asked, wary now.
Julian regarded him for a long moment. “I resigned from Starfleet yesterday morning,” he said finally, his voice no longer so soft, and with no discernible trace of anything in his tone, “and I'm leaving the station in a few hours. For good,” he added by way as an afterthought.
“I see,” Garak said. “Would this be a result of your genetic status being made public?”
To his credit, Julian did not act surprised at the direct statement. Instead he quirked his lips into something of an incomplete smile. “Considering how I broke several Federation laws just applying to Starfleet Medical, I think it's a safe bet that had something to do with it,” he replied easily, as if they had been conversant on his enhancements for years instead of seconds.
Garak allowed himself to smile a little. “And it would seem you were far more... versatile than I could have imagined, my dear.”
Something in Julian's expression flared at the small endearment, though he said nothing about it. Instead his next comment was to the earlier part of Garak's statement. “That's an interesting way to put it.”
“I recall telling you a week ago that I admired the way you had become distrustful and suspicious.” He forestalled Julian's obvious reply with a single raised finger. “I'm aware now it was the Founder infiltrator I was speaking to at the time, but the statement still stands.”
“More or less,” Julian said.
Garak nodded. “Indeed.”
Julian frowned slightly, then smiled slightly. “You're not insulted that I lied to you for almost five years, are you?”
“On the contrary, my dear doctor -” Garak gave the last word particular stress, and indeed Julian's reaction indicated he had noticed, “- I'm flattered. There aren't many people who would attempt to maintain such a deception around me for as long as you have. You ought to be commended.”
“If only Starfleet saw it that way,” Julian added wryly.
For that Garak allowed a full grin. “I always told you Starfleet was a short-sighted organisation,” he replied quickly and easily, revelling in the direction their conversation was now taking. “Now,” he said, changing tone and direction as quickly as he had become accustomed to the previous tone, “what brings you to my quarters so late at night?”
“I wanted to see you before I left,” Julian said sombrely. “Privately,” he added. “And away from your shop.”
“Ah. You heard about that?” Garak asked lightly.
“Everyone heard about that, I'm afraid,” Julian answered. “I heard it from Ziyal. She was under the impression that she and I were friends, and as such she sought me out in the infirmary to ask whether I had attempted to talk you out of the shop.”
“Ah,” Garak said again. “What did you tell her?”
“Major Kira was with her; I felt uncomfortable talking about it myself, so I deflected onto Nerys. She'd been prepared for that conversation anyway and were it not for Ziyal's determination to speak to me first, I'm sure she would have explained why I have a month of memories of station life missing.” He raised an eyebrow. “You didn't take the opportunity to tell her once we got back.”
Garak shook his head slightly, but something Julian had said had already begun to distract him. “The major made it clear to you she had wanted to discuss your incarceration in the Gamma Quadrant with Ziyal?”
Julian drew in a sharp breath. “No,” he admitted.
“Then you could -” Garak made a vague hand motion up and down the line of Julian's head and torso “- infer it?”
“Yes.”
And wasn't that interesting. There was clearly much more to the nature of the doctor's genetic enhancements than he was letting on even now, but Julian seemed unwilling to discuss it further.
“As I was saying though,” he continued, “I wanted to see you.”
“Yes. Privately, you said.” Garak brought his arms up to encompass the stifling confined space around them. “Is this private enough, Doctor?”
Julian smiled again. “Yes.”
“Then was there something in particular you wished to discuss?” For all Julian had been able to infer the major's motives with seemingly little more than a glance, he seemed off-balance right here and now, taking his cues from Garak's words rather than his actions. It was almost as if -
Clarity dawned.
For all Julian could infer other people's actions, as presumably his ability extended far beyond one mere Bajoran former resistance fighter, he seemed unable to do so with Garak. Memories of their multiple interactions, conversations and time spent together in the holosuites quickly flashed through Garak's mind, each one as vivid as the last, and each one confirming his most recent realisation.
“...many things.” Julian's words cut through the reverie, bringing Garak firmly back into the conversation once more.
“I'm afraid I wasn't paying attention, my dear,” he apologised. “What were you saying?”
Amusement coloured with something else flitted across Julian's face. “If time weren't such a pressing issue, many things,” he said. Then: “I promised myself something on the way over here tonight.”
“And what was that?” Garak enquired, almost politely.
Julian hesitated, almost imperceptibly. “That I would do this.”
Without warning, and far more quickly than Garak would have anticipated prior to this evening, he leaned in and kissed Garak on the cheek. He lingered for a few seconds, an impossibly warm presence, before pulling away and once again fixing Garak with that near impenetrable expression.
Except that now Garak could see that mixed in with the anticipation and amusement - and even the little dash of fear that remained - the final missing piece of the puzzle that was his very dear doctor was some kind of arousal.
No. Love.
Great mercies, for how long had he missed that?
Garak couldn't claim that anywhere within himself he could find emotion enough to match that in his doctor's face, but now that he considered, there was more affection than he almost knew what to do with. Certainly more than he had felt for a single individual in the past. How the mighty do fall, indeed.
He brought a hand, shaking only imperceptibly, and rested it on Julian's cheek, a mirror of the action that had been performed only a few seconds before. The human skin under his hand was hot to the touch, the heat both alien and reassuring at the same time.
“Stay.” Garak's voice was shaking as well. In the past that would have been an unforgivable weakness on his part, and certainly one he would have betrayed to no one, not even Tain. But Tain was dead, and Julian was here, and perhaps the revelation of this most magnificent deception did not have to go to waste after all.
“I'll have to leave eventually,” Julian replied softly.
“I could make a few... enquiries,” Garak countered.
At that, Julian laughed, a dimple pulsing under Garak's hand. “I think I'd rather live with the consequences of my actions than yours,” he said simply, but sounding amused nonetheless.
Affecting a sigh, Garak withdrew his hand and instead motioned towards his bed. “If you insist, my dear,” he replied, infusing as much long-suffering weariness as he could manage without sounding saccharine, but unable to keep the sharp spike of relief out of his expression when Julian led him towards the bedroom.
Julian appeared not to notice though, and so Garak made no mention - verbal or otherwise - of the similar relief in the doctor's demeanour when he followed him close behind.
o o o o o
True to his unspoken word Julian stayed until morning when, with a quiet comment about meeting with his soon-to-be-former colleagues for one last breakfast, he eventually extracted himself from a sleepy embrace, straightened his now rumpled clothing and left, though not before dropping one last, lingering kiss to Garak's temple.
It wasn't until the door had closed and he was alone in his quarters once more that it occurred to Garak that although he had spent a number of years in the company of his dear doctor, this was the first time he had conversed with Julian.
Despite all his training and instincts, the realisation humbled him.
And a small part of him hoped it would not be the last time.