hermit9 (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} hermit9) wrote,@ 2008-03-12 22:51:00 |
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Julian is finally asleep. He cried so long, there can't be another tear left in the human race. Garak doesn't dare leave him for long, but he gets up to do what he needs to.
"A taller order than expected," the brown-scaled Corvallen says solemnly. Gytro is an old friend of Garak's from his time spent on Romulus. While not a handsome man, he is faithful to his friends to a fault, and Garak repays his loyalty as much as he can. Garak isn't sure he can repay him this time, but if the opportunity arises, he shall. This was a hefty request, difficult to fulfill even for a mercenary of Gytro's size and skill.
"Yes, I know," Garak says.
"You look well."
Garak smiles a little, "Thank you." He doesn't elaborate on why. Such things aren't discussed over illicit channels, but he will perhaps let him know the next time he sees him, which will probably not be for another fifteen years.
"And you took your damn time getting back to me, Lizard," he says with a gauze of affection in his voice that you couldn't hear without knowing the man half your life.
"He left quite a mess I'm afraid."
"Well, I got you a transmission code. It'll be valid at three fifteen station time, which is...right about now, and it'll start to degrade in less than ten minutes. I hope you can get what you need in that time."
"I hope so too."
"Transmitting now."
Gytro signs off. Shame they couldn't catch up a little. Garak would be lying if he said he didn't miss Gytro, and some of the other people who have helped him along the way, some of those he's aided himself. Just no time for that now, no place for it. That talk is meant for a table or a bar, for a happy reunion when there is nothing else to do because nothing else needs to be done.
Garak frowns at his console, breathes deeply to calm his nerves, and then opens a new encrypted subspace channel. He plugs in the code Gytro gave him with a secret superstitious thumb squeezed between his knuckles. A moment later a Cardassian appears on his screen looking sleepy and confused, vulnerable and naked in his bed. Slowly, understanding, and then finally open-eyed amusement creeps into his face as he stares at Garak in his own screen.
"Garak! What a pleasant surprise. I was expecting to hear from someone from the station in the near future, but I didn't think you would be the first."
Garak looks at him stoically, and says nothing.
Dukat's smile widens slightly in the silence. "What can I do for you?" he finally says when Garak doesn't volunteer.
"I'm sure you can guess."
Dukat chuckles. "Yes. I'm sure I can. But I think you're going to have to keep waiting, and failing to bring it about yourself. You and your cronies have certainly mastered that over the years."
"Its a pity you can't die more than once," Garak says thoughtfully.
Dukat laughs, good and long.
"After Commander Worf and Captain Sisko have finished with you, I'd like to kill you myself."
"Don't tell me you were smitten with her too."
"I think you know me better than that."
"Indeed. I do. But then Jadzia was a woman any man could love, even a dubious facsimile of a man such as yourself." Dukat sighs heavily, as if it actually weighted his heart at all. "That beautiful skin, silky hair, and that enchanting smile. It certainly is a pity. I know it doesn't make a difference but I never intended to harm her. It wasn't even me if you want to split hairs. It was the pah wraith."
“No, that is definitely not a worthwhile distinction.”
"So why did you wake me up then Garak?"
"Just to see your smiling face."
"Of course. You wouldn't be trying to triangulate my location would you? I can assure you that will be quite impossible. Surely you don't think I'm that stupid."
"You've driven some very long nails in your coffin recently, Dukat. So. Yes, but no that isn't the reason. I was merely curious of your intent. I fail to see how closing the wormhole benefits you or the Dominion."
"Yes. You do fail don't you," Dukat says cheerfully. "Think what you will, Garak. I certainly don't care. The Dominion is of little concern to me. I will have my Cardassia back the way I want it and I don't need them or the prophets to make that happen. So if you're finished trying to ogle me, I'd like to go back to bed."
"Sleep well."
"I shall," he says bright-eyed and grinning before the connection closes.
~*~
Julian wakes to the sensation of fingertips brushing his hair from his forehead. He opens his eyes and tries to move to rub the blur from them but regrets it. He winces sharply as every single muscle in his torso and beyond protests. Even the act of that sudden intake of breath shoots pain across his back where swollen patches tighten around painful bruises.
"Shh," Elim whispers and strokes a bare, unmarred shoulder.
There is misery, and there is this. He regrets not only moving but every single thing. He would cry as he did last night but he doesn't have the strength. He lays there instead with cracked eyes, dry lips, and resignation. "What time is it," he asks hoarsely after so many long minutes in pointless silence.
"A little after five." Julian blinks slowly and Garak can see in his eyes that he is actually trying to figure out how he is going to get himself into shape to go to work today. "Come on," Garak says then and gets up. He comes around to the other side of the bed to gently urge Julian up. Julian hisses and makes a little noise as he comes to sit facing Elim, but doesn't protest. "Come along. Let's get you into a hot bath."
Julian walks under his own power to the bathroom but Elim helps him sit on the edge of the tub just in case. Elim draws the bath and removes the pants he never took off last night. Julian hasn't seen him naked in a few days, and before that it was essentially the first time. He feels strange looking at him so casually after the past few days - feels like years - of absence. He looks at the floor instead and holds his forearms across his own bare lap. Elim steps into the tub when it is full enough and urges Julian to do the same. "How hot is it?" he asks, watching faint trails of steam against the dark tile.
"Positively frigid. You'll be fine." Elim takes Julian's hand and Julian swings one leg then the other into the water. It's hot, but tolerable. Elim sits with his back against the slanted tub wall, and with braced arms, gives Julian the support he needs to sit down safely as well. He isn't sure why this feels awkward, but it does. He feels like he doesn't belong here, doesn't deserve this, or that Elim somehow doesn't know who he is dealing with, who he is bestowing such kindness to. "Come," he says again, though, and Julian turns and lays back against him.
The heat is slightly sharp on a few spots, but fine in time, and they lay there in silence for quite a while with the echoes pinging off the walls, drenching Julian like a lullaby. He may have been dozing here and there, but wakens completely again when Elim pulls a dark blue cloth from the water and squeezes it out over Julian's chest. Garak shifts him a bit then, pulls Julian's weightless body over his left shoulder more, tilting his head back. Elim sponges down his neck and chest over and over, and eventually scoops his hair back from his forehead with a damp hand and wets his head. Julian closes his eyes again and allows his attention to fixate on the warmth trickling down his scalp. It occurs to him finally, a mere moment before Elim stops, that he can't recall a time since he was a young child that anyone cared for him like this. Maybe he never needed it before, or maybe there was no one there when he needed it. He is glad now though, that Elim is here, and that he knew what to do, because Julian never would have figured this one out on his own.
Elim sighs and rumbles behind and beneath Julian. "Remember how we were going to take this slow?"
Julian nods a little.
"We didn't quite succeed did we."
Garak squeezes out the cloth one last time and places it over the edge of the tub neatly to be picked up later. When he turns back, Julian's head is turned and he is watching him. He can't quite read his face, but he looks much more alert and relaxed than he did when he woke up.
It hurts to twist himself like this but he has to. Julian turns and takes a dripping arm out of the tepid water to hold Elim's head where it is. He twists the rest of him some more, wincing as he does, and brings his lips to Elim's. Their lips brush twice before Elim helps him, brings his hand to Julian's face to turn it up and back, and allow that twist and stretch to go more through his chest than his sore and abused back. Julian sighs and opens his mouth to him which Elim takes with deliberation.
Julian is hard within a moment, but Elim does no more than smile gently at him before helping him up and into a towel. He winces when he raises his arms to dry his hair, so Elim pats his head down for him and then his back too, dabbing away the water around the red and purple. He is mostly dry otherwise and calmed to an appropriate level, and Elim tells him to go lie on the bed. Julian leaves Elim in the bathroom and does as he wishes. On the bed stand is the jar of ointment that Elim used on him last night. He picks it up curiously and realizes that the label is quite familiar. The faint smell too, like vanilla and chamomile. He hasn't seen it in years, but his mother used to use it for minor cuts and scrapes rather than using the regenrator. He didn't appreciate it at the time, but as an adult, as a doctor, he would come to agree with her that immediately healing every little thing is as bad for you as letting large wounds go untreated. There are millions of people who cannot handle even the smallest discomfort now because as children, their parents sheltered them from pain with every available technology and medication. A little cream to keep the skin supple and avoid scars is really all that is needed.
Elim emerges from the bathroom finally with a towel around his waist. "Where did you get this?" Julian asks him softly, still unsure of his voice.
He smiles. "It's quite common on Cardassia. I had this shipped from Earth, I understand it's made there."
"It is. I haven't seen it in years though."
"Every Cardassian household has a jar of this. It is the best product in the galaxy to treat the itchiness caused by peeling scales." Julian almost smirks at that. "Lay down. Let's look at you." Julian stretches out on the bed face down and carefully lifts his hands up above his head. Elim sits beside him and turns the reading light on above Julian, flooding the pillow at his face with soft light. Elim's fingers smooth gently down his back and it does sting here and there. He doesn't touch the little cuts, but tests the bruises gingerly. "We can use the regenerator on this if you want. You're going to be pretty uncomfortable for the next few days. Mine isn't suitable for large areas, but it will take the edge off."
The thought hadn't occurred to him actually. He just assumed he'd wear the bruises until they faded. He considers it a moment, and shakes his head. He has survived worse than this, he knows. Odd how everything reminds him of childhood right now. He feels like a child, weak, punished. When Elim kisses his back lightly, once, and then opens the jar lid and releasing that scent it comes back to him quite fully. Tears well in his eyes and he lets them fall though he keeps his breathing steady and slow. "I've never lost anyone before," he says facing away from him.
Elim pauses in his gentle aid as if halted by that remark, but then begins again. "No one?"
"No one close to me. An acquaintance or two. I've been....lucky."
Garak smooths another sticky-soft dab of the ointment over his skin with a delicate touch and Julian hears the lid meet the open jar again. "I should say so, my dear. We're in the middle of a war. Not many people live through even a small war without being separated from someone they love."
Garak begins to walk away and a shudder comes over Julian, urging him up to his feet. Julian tosses his towel to the bed and begins pulling his clothes on. When Garak returns from the bathroom he stands in silence and watches Julian throw himself together with urgency slowed by pain and awkwardness. "Where are you going?"
"I have to talk to Marcia. I have to try to fix some of this."
Julian gets his shoes on with a heavy wince, and then stands. Elim is there before him, a solid steady rock that captures Julian's impetus and pauses it with his mere presence. Elim puts a hand to his neck. "Do what you need to do. Then come back to me."
Julian returns his gaze for half a moment, a resisting mixture of fear and sorrow and gratitude swirling through him. "Thank you," he whispers and fights the tears back again. He kisses him once, quick as a hummingbird, and leaves.
~*~
Marcia doesn't react when he shows up at her door except to take in the hang of his face and the way that tall frame is bent and shivering under its own weight. "Can we talk?" he asks finally, and she steps away form the door to let him pass with an impassive face. Inside, her belongings are mostly packed into a couple of trunks and she leans back against them with her arms across her middle looking as haggard as he feels. He wants to cry again already but knows that would be a bad idea.
"Have you ever done something so grotesquely stupid and horrible, that, when you realized what you had done, you felt that the only option was to give up and resign yourself to the fact that you were a coward and a charlatan, and in doing so made it worse?" he blurts and then covers his face. "No I don't imagine you have...."
"Is that what happened?" she asks quietly, stoically. "Is that why you won't talk to me?"
"No. That is why it happened. The other night...that was the compounding of the evil, not the evil itself. They wanted to have a baby."
"I know."
With his face hidden, he can't hold the tears back. "I told her I found a way for them to have a baby. I told her I had the solution but I didn't," he croaks. "I just wanted to give her some hope. I wanted them all to come back alive. So she went....she went to thank the prophets." His voice is weakening, his whole body, again like last night, and he squats, feeling the pain of his bruised muscles pulling and feeling he deserves so much more.
"Julian...this wasn't your fault. It doesn't matter why she went there when she did. There was no way for you or anyone else to know what Dukat was planning. He did this to her, not you. And the lie. It doesn't matter now either. You don't know. Maybe the hope you gave them was what brought them all home alive." He knows she's just trying to help but fatalistic scenarios just depress him. He shakes his head in rejection and thinks he hears the acknowledgement in her voice. "You didn't kill her Julian."
"Yes. I did. I cut her in two."
"You did what you had to do and a part of her is still alive because you had the strength to do it." He knows that but it doesn't matter.
"But I took that life away from her, and then she died of that loss."
"There was nothing you could have done that would have saved her. You must know that."
"Did I tell you I was in love with her from the day I met her?" Julian stands again and goes to Marcia's counter to lean against it, away from her eyes.
"What?"
"Remember the 'one that got away?' She hasn't been here long enough to have absorbed their history, but she might remember that conversation.
Marcia is quiet for some time and Julian tries to recover in that gap, breathing slowly and staring at the counter top. Marcia mumbles in melancholy then, crumbling the silence, "For some reason I always thought it was Colonel Kira...I don't know why."
There isn't much more to say about that really. Maybe now that she knows who Jadzia was to him, she'll understand, though he doesn't hope for it. He doesn't dare hope for nor deserve that. "She didn't belong to me, but I loved her as if she did, Marcia. I couldn't. I couldn't stand there and watch her die. I lied to her. I ripped her apart. I couldn't save her. Three times I killed her. Even if I had been smart enough to prevent two of them I still would have killed her. And it was only for my own selfishness."
"Oh Julian," she whispers like a prayer. Marcia doesn't fully understand all of this, but the realization that there is more than simple cowardice under this is very forcefully creeping in and shaking her resolve. She was afraid of this the second she saw him.
"I couldn't watch. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"I'm not the one who can forgive you, Sweetie."
Marcia approaches him, and feels overwhelmingly sorry suddenly. She suspects that she did not help this at all. Marcia puts a hand to his back, then moves around to take him by the arm and lead him to her couch. She sits, and while she expected him to sit with her, instead he kneels at her feet and puts his head and arms down on her lap. That pretty much breaks her, and while she strokes through his hair as he cries quietly, she has to wipe her own eyes for the hundredth time this week. She idly strokes his hair and back until he calms down again, until they both do. "Is it too late to withdraw my resignation or have you already found my replacement?"
Julian rises finally to look at her with red-rimmed wet eyes. "Don't stay just because I'm a mess. I don't want you to stay where you're not happy."
Marcia sighs heavily. "No, Julian. I was leaving because you were a mess." Then she huffs a little exhausted exasperated laugh. "But you're not a mess. Well. You are. But I think this is a curable mess."
Julian just shakes his head. "I don't know where to go from here. I don't know what I'm doing. Why didn't I have the strength to see it through to the end? Why do I never have the strength to do that? Am I going to quit on Elim too when it matters?" His face is already red but it gets redder when he realizes he is speaking about it openly with her. It shouldn't embarrass him and he feels foolish for that too.
"You can't be on duty like this, Julian."
"I'm ....so tired."
"You need some time off. Some time to think."
He rejects it and it shows on his face he knows. "More time, always more time. More time doing nothing, more time to waste being useless."
"Kira here."
"Colonel, I'm Marcia Louis, I work in the infirmary."
"Yes Ensign, what can I do for you?"
"I wanted to let you know, I"m taking Julian--Doctor Bashir off active duty for a while."
"You--" Julian tries to interject.
"Is he alright?"
"He'll be fine. He just needs some time."
"Understood. Tell Julian to take as much time as he needs. If need be we can get Doctor Ledo from Bajor to fill in."
"Thank you Colonel."
Julian just looks a little bewildered. "You know, technically, you don't have the authority to take me off duty. Only Sisko or Doctor Girani do."
"Well the Colonel didn't seem to have a problem with it." Marcia sighs shortly and then glances at the clock. "Oh, peaches. I have to get to the infirmary." She gets up and starts trying to straighten her hair and fix her face. "And I have to talk my way out of my transfer. That's going to be an uncomfortable conversation."
"I can talk to them..."
"No you can't. You're on leave. Go home."
Garak has been mooching around the corridor waiting for Julian to come out of Marcia's quarters. When he finally does, Marcia is with him, ready to start her shift, and Julian leans over in the door way to put his arms around her. Garak watches his face, heavy with pain that Marcia can obviously detect as well. Some of that is physical pain, but the result is the same. At least she can see it now. At least that veil is lifted.
~*~
Julian comes through the door nearly dragging his feet. He appears so burdened still, barely holding himself up. Garak is in his bedroom doorway, dressed and waiting.
"Aren't you supposed to be at the shop?" he asks him.
"I don't think anyone will notice if I'm not there today." Julian looks like he is about to melt, but is holding himself up for etiquette's sake. You don't enter a friend's home and then fall on the floor and cry.
"Marcia is staying," he tells him then, that was the reason he left after all. "And she relieved me of duty."
"Can she do that?"
"No. But she did."
Elim goes to him, can see how close he is to coming apart again. This is the worst of it he thinks. Marcia is going to stay, so he made some kind of progress on that front, but there is so much more that needs doing. Right now, Julian needs support. Actual physical support, and Garak holds onto him and lets Julian slump into him as he walks him to the bedroom. Julian feels hot all over but blotchy, different temperatures all over him, not with that smooth transition Elim can feel over his skin most of the time, just erratically varying shades of hot, his eyes and lips and neck the hottest. He takes him to bed, dresses him down again, marveling at that beautiful body that lays before him so willingly now, and covers him with a light blanket.
"I know...intellectually, that I didn't kill her. I did what I thought was best," Julian says from way down low in his chest. Elim looks on him with a sadness in his face. "It just feels like her life was so much a part of mine, I can't figure out how I missed the potential for it, why I didn't see a danger in what I was doing."
"What does all of this mean to you, Julian?"
"I'm a coward, and a liar."
"But I know that you are neither of those things."
Julian doesn't say anything.
"If that isn't it, what is?"
"I love her," he whispers, pain in his heart for even uttering those words in front of this man who loves him despite all of this. He feels flashes inside of him of what it must be like to be Elim right now and is ashamed of himself.
"I know," Elim says without a flinch.
"I don't want to love her anymore," Julian whimpers and buries his head under Garak's neck to cry.
"I know."
The lights from the living room cast a box of light on the bedroom wall just to Julian's left. The glow diffuses gently across the room and the two forms on the bed. Julian, despite his grief, looks more reposed now that he is lying down again and relieved of inhibitions. Garak brings his hands to Julian's face and chest to soothe him back toward sleep. When he wakes that afternoon, perhaps they'll talk about it some. Perhaps Julian will begin to expel some of that guilt he is holding on to. Garak knows he needs it right now, to punish himself for what he did, but it can't stay forever.
Garak has some of his own that he will sleep with tonight. So many on the station do right now. Julian is so tormented, he probably can't see that yet. There were so many failures. It would seem she was doomed from the beginning if he were inclined to consider such things. There were so many opportunities for any of them to have stopped it, but they all made mistakes. The captain, Julian, Kira, Worf, Garak. They are all complicit if they can be blamed for each adding an ingredient that happened to form poison when mixed. Dukat is the killer, but the people she loved failed her. Makes one wonder if it wasn't fate. Makes one doubt. A woman as strong as her - it took half the station to kill her. It took failures on the part of so many to orchestrate her demise. If it doesn't point to fate or the force of a malevolent god he doesn't know what does. Horrifying thought really. His own guilt seems minor, and opposite of the irrationality that could in part be blamed for her death. He chose rationality, and maybe, in some small way that might have contributed to it. If he had warned Julian, or anyone, maybe it wouldn't have happened. He felt an event on the horizon just a few days ago. His premonitions, while accurate, are baseless, so he said nothing and assumed instead that what he felt was due solely to the tide changing within him because of the man in his bed. But he was also warned. Omar told him he might be planning something. But even the two things together didn't point to anything. There is no way he could have predicted what would happen, but maybe Julian could have. And Julian is the one in the most pain right now. He can't help but sour his thoughts right now as he looks at him and wish that he had told him, had said something, anything, but he knows that is a hopeless train of thought, that it could have been worse.
The Bajoran Vedek at the door of the temple is not only not used to being approached by Cardassians, but clearly reluctant to let one into his temple. However, now that at least half of the Bajoran population of the station has left, the slip of latinum Garak places in the collection tin sways the priest and garners him a few moments at least. Inside, the amber hues of the temple are muddied by the flickering shadows cast by hundreds of tiny candles lit, most likely, for Jadzia as well as others recently lost to the war. The orb sits in its chamber looking oddly inert, more like a trinket than the powerful artifact it once was. Garak finds a place at the front of the empty room and an unlit candle. He lights it from another and places it upon the shrine, not knowing exactly what he is meant to do with it, only going through the motions for the Vedek peeking at him from around the corner. Garak kneels there, eyes closed, feeling the weight of the day on his shoulders and knees, the weight of guilt and anger, sorrow for the pain Julian is going through, and tries to clear his mind of it for now. He breathes slow and deep, and then opens his eyes to look at the little flame in a white paper shell before him.
Garak can only shake his head once and then whisper what he needs to say to that little flame.
"Jadzia, I am a logical being, as much as any Vulcan, as any scientist though I am neither. I know you cannot hear me. I know you no longer are a part of this world except in as much as you are a stagnant entity who's potential has been removed, your energy released back freely into the universe. I know you don't need to hear this. I speak to you now because it is my need to do so. I also know that it didn't have to be you. I am not so dull to think that someone picked you out to die; that some aliens or gods sent a madman to kill you to punish the emissary or that God was unhappy with you, that you defied him by marrying a Klingon, I'm not so stupid to think that you or I are fated to anything. It didn't have to be you that was in that temple. It didn't have to be anyone. If you had been somewhere else, maybe no one had to die there, maybe that monster could have done what he came to do and then left, I don't know. Those predictions are as pointless as the other. The fact is that it was you, and because of that, I thank you. Not some prophets, or aliens, or fickle fate or even the universe. I thank you because you were the one that paid the price. Because it could have been him.... It could just as easily have been him. I know it was not what you intended, and it is certainly not what I ever wanted or hoped for, but what you have done, has changed my life, Jadzia. The two of us never had much in the way of interaction, but that was because Julian lie between us I think, torn between us. Leaving us, Jadzia, no one wanted you to leave us. I did not. Not even if Julian remained torn, not even if Julian were to leave me to be with you. All I can say my dear, is thank you. For today, and for every day after this that we might be given."
~*~
A blossoming romance is supposed to be fiery in the beginning. The blush of new love is supposed to overtake the lovers and be expressed in their passion for each other, their time spent together is supposed to be vivid and exciting, their lovemaking more intense with each passing night. It is different for Elim and Julian, though. Theirs is a romance interrupted. Certainly this is not the only way in which theirs is an uncommon relationship, the ways are countless really, and perhaps this early tragedy is not even the most difficult hurdle because as the days and then weeks pass after its manifestation, they are recovering lost ground with gentle steps that would seem to be unattainable for most people.
Those first few nights spent wound around each other for fear of finding the other missing in the morning are quiet and solemn. Garak runs fingers through his hair as they drift off and accepts the kisses Julian leaves on his jaw. Julian asks him, because it is still too foggy and near to understand fully, like the pages of a book too close to your face, what has happened, why he is the way he is. It is hard to believe. Julian had been in danger of sabotaging his whole life, and while Garak's rescue was risky, his relief in these days is complete. The young women who played parts in this are not destroyed, changed but not gone. Julian has not been eaten from the inside by his guilt, his misstep. He was, despite his intellect, unable to fool Garak into letting him rot away or breaking the promise. His answers to Julian's questions about himself are simple because the more words he gives him the more complex he will make it and the more likely he will try to turn it in upon himself again. Why did I do it? You did it for love. Then why did it go wrong? Love is not a guarantee, love is a risk.
Even after a few days when Julian begins to kiss him more forcefully, hungrily as they lie in bed, Elim tries to cool him because they need to go back a few steps. You can't just pick up where you left off when one person quits, even for a minute. Catching up is long work, and Garak wants something before he is willing to take him back into his bed for anything other than companionable sleep. He wants him to laugh. Julian perhaps doesn't realize it, but he hasn't laughed in a week. Hasn't smiled except bitterly. Garak has been watching and listening for a week now. He spends his leave reading, walking, sleeping, staring into the stars in a way that Garak understands quite completely; a wordless, thoughtless pining for home. But he doesn't laugh, doesn't even approach it.
He knows too, that Garak hesitates. He knows there is something off. He lays on him this evening, trying to make his intent clear, hips between Garak's, head on his chest, silent and thinking and then finally asks. "Is this...is this over?"
"What do you mean?" Julian lifts his head to look him in the eye even though it's mostly too dark to see.
"You and me. Is this the beginning of the end? Julian feels slightly brave asking, but somehow bravery is easier on the downhill side of grief.
"Why would you think that?"
"You don't want to make love," he says almost to quietly to hear.
Elim holds his face. "No. I'm just waiting until you are ready."
The relief in Julian is palpable but not complete. "I'm ready," he says with the tiniest smirk and Elim smiles back, huffs a little laugh through his nose.
"No. Not yet."
"How do you know?"
"I can tell."
"Are you sure you aren't projecting your own unreadiness onto me?"
Elim smiles quite warmly at that. "I'm sure."
Julian sighs and places his hard chin back on Elim's chest. "What do I have to do to convince you I am 'ready?'"
"Oh I think you're well on your way, Love. Don't worry."
It finally happens twelve nights after she died. Elim wakes to find his bed curiously empty. Still the middle of the night, he gets up and pads into the dark living room. Julian doesn't say anything, just reaches up to touch him when he draws near. His face is lit only by the pale white text on the screen and he has tears streaming down his cheeks but is smiling harshly, pain and laughter there in his cheeks. He laughs, chuckles a little, two, three times, each time exactly the same quiet sound as the last time.
"What are you reading?"
"Text conversation that I had with Jadzia a few months ago while she was bored in ops. That woman....she was completely insane, do you know that?" It comes out choked on a half-sob, half laugh and his breath quivers. Elim crouches next to his seat to read a few of the lines on the screen.
L.C. Dax J.: I saw Captain Boday last night.
C.M.O. Bashir J.: Do tell.
L.C. Dax J.:We just went to Quark's but it was a lot of fun.
C.M.O. Bashir J.:Worf come with you?
L.C. Dax J.:God no. He didn't know I went. I asked Kira to cover for me.
C.M.O. Bashir J.:Um.
L.C. Dax J.:Oh stop it Julian. Don't be so pedestrian. A woman, who has been a man, I might add several times before, is not simply a woman any more. I like the company of men for the same reason I like to watch acrobats. I used to be one. Worf doesn't understand. So I spare him.
C.M.O. Bashir J.:But you won't spare me.
L.C. Dax J.:You love it. And besides, I didn't tell you the really fun part yet.
C.M.O. Bashir J.:I can't wait.
L.C. Dax J.:Boday thought he was getting somewhere with me apparently, and started buying me drinks and holding my hand. Quark got so mad, he came by with a tray full of black holes and "accidentally" tipped it over his head.
C.M.O. Bashir J.:His head?
L.C. Dax J.:Yes! I can't stop laughing! Ben is looking at me funny.
L.C. Dax J.:His head is purple.
C.M.O. Bashir J.:The captain's?
L.C. Dax J.:No! Don't be obtuse. Boday's. It was still purple when I saw him leave on his ship this morning. It looks like he got his skull tinted. And I couldn't resist. I asked him if it would be safer now for him to go to a desert planet like Yadozi.
C.M.O. Bashir J.:Oh my god. What did he say?
L.C. Dax J.: He said he'd wear a hat. I don't know if he meant because his skull was purple or if he didn't get it and he meant that he'd wear a hat to Yadozi regardless. Either way, I'll be entertained by that for weeks.
C.M.O. Bashir J.:Has anyone ever called you evil before?
L.C. Dax J.:Only everyone who knows me.
"God. I miss her already. I miss her so much, like I've been missing her for years and I can't stop." He cries in earnest for a moment. "I really thought I could hang on to her forever, somehow. That if I could make her happy I could be this favorite of hers for the rest of my life."
Garak sits beside him and watches him a while longer. He wipes the tears away from his face as they come, and reading on through the logs, he laughs again and again until he is looking haggard and sleepy. Garak pats him on the shoulder finally and stands. Julian looks and is drawn up with him, clicking off the computer screen and following him to bed.
This will be the first time in twenty years Garak has simply made love with someone without asking or being asked to hurt his lover. He feels no small amount of pride in that number. It means to him that he hasn't hidden his desires from his partners, he hasn't substituted something else for what he really needed nor allowed someone else to use him to fulfill their desires without returning the gesture, but he is also more than happy to break his record for Julian. Julian is already in pain, and it's not something that can be built off of in a positive way. And this isn't casual sex, this never was just a passing fling to be enjoyed and released. They are going to explore every facet of this over time, even the commonplace ones Garak has been avoiding with everyone else.
And commonplace is good. Ordinary things are the stabilizers of life that take the wayward swinging pendulum and counter it. Julian understands this too, and brings the ordinary back into his life one day at a time. The day comes soon enough that he brings the infirmary back to Ordinary with the presence of himself. He lays in bed that morning looking at Garak from across the pillow, and, half asleep and comfortable with his bed-warmer in place on his hip, Garak may have selfishly suggested that Julian could do with another day of rest.
"No," Julian coos and kisses Elim's head. "I don't want to be gone too long. It'll just get harder to go back from here on, I think. Time to get back on the horse."
Garak scowls sleepily. "I have an inkling of what that means, but just in case I'm wrong, I don't want to know."
Julian sets foot inside his demesne and is greeted with a warm smile from a mere five feet off the floor. He returns it easily, happily.
"How ya feelin', Sugar?"
Julian tosses his head a little. "About eighty-five percent I guess," he says privately. As far as anyone else is concerned, Julian was over-worked and simply needed a break, so only she needs to know the answer to that question. She smiles again and reaches for him. He hugs her and grumbles a little, melting in her strong embrace. "Make that ninety."
Garak peeks in the infirmary some time that morning before going to his shop, sees Julian at his workstation with that slack-jawed squinty expression he always gets when he looks at his prion work for more than an hour at a time. Garak leaves the infirmary satisfied and takes a stroll before opening up. All around the station even, the hugs are lighter and graced with smiles, and people have a fragile freshness about them, as if they had alljust left the infirmary themselves. They walk gingerly as they re-add their own ordinary things, one balancing weight at a time; not too much so as to avoid overcompensation, and careful not to reopen the wound with crass mistakes and words, careful not to try to heal too quickly. Things are different, yes, but the magic isn't gone, just...on a break of its own, Garak thinks. Garak stops in the middle of the quiet promenade and takes a lingering look around him. The old vedek is opening the temple. O'Brien crouches beneath a replicator. A lift opens. Garak clasps his hands behind his back, and walks on.