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Chapter Text

Cardassia Prime

The ice clinked pleasantly in the glasses as Garak walked back to the bedroom with a tray from the kitchen. His lips curved in a soft smile. His shoulders were free from the tension that had been pressing them over the last two weeks of ferocious political debate. And his mind, oh, his mind was full of a certain human waiting for him in the other room, resting after their most diverting exertions in the cooler, but still hot for a human, evening. As he approached the door, his smile grew, his perfect recall casting back in his head all the delightful sounds that he had dragged out of Julian.

He pushed the door open. His breath hitched in his throat at the view in front of him. Julian’s long limbed form was sprawled on their bed, a leg bent at the knee, arms under his pillow. He was breathing softly, his eyes closed and his mouth was open just a little. An impossibly soft feeling washed from somewhere deep within Garak's chest. His dear doctor had fallen into a post-coital slumber under, under the gentle air produced by the fan, the strange, old fashioned earth device that the Chief has sent Julian as a joke to combat the heat on Cardassia. Garak had made fun of the choice of present, as surely O’Brien could have sent through something a little more useful. But it had come with its own generator, it didn't draw any energy from the limited supplies on Prime and Julian seemed to go anywhere with it. And who was Garak to argue against something that made his dear doctor more comfortable in the sweltering heat?

Garak put the tray away on top of a little table in the corner. As silently as his aging joints let him, he opened a secret compartment he had added to the room’s dresser and took out a drawing PADD and a stylus.

What I love about drawing is how it helps me understand my emotions about myself, the world, and the people around me.

Ziyal’s soft voice accompanied him as he sat down in his chair, casting his eyes back onto Julian’s sleeping form.

Emotions.

His heart sped as he started to draw lines on the PADD on his knees. Julian looked so soft just like that, his hair moving gently under the air of the fan. Garak rubbed the fingertips of his free hand against each other. He could still feel the texture of Julian’s skin on them. He brought them to his nose, the scent of his human still lingering on them.

Garak took a deep breath, steadying his hands, and concentrated back on the drawing, on capturing that curve of Julian’s knee, or the litheness of his frame, the muscles under the skin.

He needed to finish. To keep this. To hold every line of Julian before Starfleet came calling again. Julian’s leave was ending soon.

He glanced back up to Julian. For a moment, he imagined himself waking him up to ask him to stay on Prime. To never leave him alone again.

But he didn't move.

He took a deeper breath.He pressed his knuckles to his mouth, as if he could swallow the ache back down.

No. He couldn't do that to Julian. He couldn't ask him to stay on a dangerous planet just because Garak needed him.

With shaking hands, he went back to drawing.

It would have to be enough.

Deep Space Nine, a few weeks later

Garak, I…I could….would you like me to-

Have a safe journey, my dear doctor.

No, Elim, wait!

Julian woke up breathless, his heart pounding as he found himself sitting upright. His hands were closed tight on the light cover wrapped around his legs.

A dream.

Another one.

He let himself fall on the mattress once more, already computing another way to change his hypospray to hopefully have a decent night sleep. He rubbed a hand on his face. Had it really been since his return from Cardassia that sleep had eluded him? He sighed, feeling sorry for himself. Of course it had been since Cardassia. His perfect memory recalled exactly the first night back at the station, when he had wrapped himself in his cover and, alone, hugged Kukalaka. But even the bear had not been able to warm him up.

The station felt colder.

The colours and the scents were strange, more muted somehow, when he had expected them to be overwhelming after his months on a dust covered Cardassia, where everything tasted and smelled the same.

He found himself smiling at the memory of-

He clutched the covers more tightly in his hands, forcing himself to shove whatever memory was trying to surface again as down as it could go.

After all, if Garak had wanted him to stay, he had had a million opportunities to say so. Julian rubbed a hand on his face. He could have said something too, but how could he?

Julian staying would have meant for Garak to be his sponsor, and the impact of that simple fact on his friend (lover? soulmate?)’s political aspirations would have been too much.

He pushed himself up from the bed. No, the way things had gone made sense, it was the right thing to do.

Even if sleep eluded him.

A bitter laugh escaped from his teeth.

Thanks to his augmentation, he didn't need as much sleep as a regular human to function normally. So he could just remain awake, leaving his subconscious to torture him with one, simple question: what if?

A light attracted his attention.

His PADD was flashing with an unread message. Julian sighed and stretched to grab it from the floor where he had thrown it the night before, quickly pressing open.

When the message opened, Julian's breath hitched in his throat.

He covered his mouth with his knuckles, smothering a gasp.

It was a drawing.

A drawing of himself, naked, sprawled on the bed in the room he shared with Garak on Prime.

“Elim,” he murmured, gently caressing the screen with his shaking left thumb.

The person in the drawing was him, the same hair, the same nose, the same long arms and legs. And yet, a part of him roared back in his mind that it couldn't possibly be him, that creature on the bed. The lines showed someone soft, beautiful, gentle in his sleep.

He was the cruel result of his parents’ work.

He was the next Khan.

He was someone who people were afraid of when they knew his true self.

He was someone who shouldn't have existed.

And yet….the drawing showed someone loved.

His eyes were burning, he almost dropped the PADD, but he managed to steady his hands when he spotted a note accompanying the drawing.

“Doctor Bashir, I could have asked you in all sorts of ways to come back. I could have told you that the minister is suffering without you, but I assumed you wouldn't believe me when I would tell you that he loves you more than he can ever say. So I hacked the minister’s private records and found this. I hope this is proof enough that he loves you. Please come back, take an old man out of his misery.”

It was signed A Friend.

Chapter Text

Cardassia Prime.

A few weeks later.

Minister Garak took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose as the light of day fades away. He sighed, looking at his desk, where an even higher pile of work than what he had started with in the morning was still awaiting his attention. He stretched his hand to grab a PADD but stopped himself midway.

You can't be of that much use to Cardassia if you kill yourself in the process of building it back up again.

Julian’s voice rang loud and clear in his head, warm like a bright, spring day. Garak remembered that night perfectly well. He had brought some work home, some proposed changes to citizenship regulations in relation to orphans and foreigners, with the aim to familiarise himself with them before the debate scheduled for two days later. He hadn’t even realised he’d fallen asleep at his desk until Julian draped a cover over his shoulders and woke him with a soft kiss to his temple.

The memory of that human smile wrapped itself around Garak with an unstoppable warmth, tinged with the bitter taste of sadness rising up his chest, pressing at his throat.

Garak shook his head, pushing himself up. He gathered his things and dragged his feet out of the office. Kelas Parmak was there, standing with his back against the wall, arms crossed to his chest. His glasses were a little low down his nose. When he spotted Garak, Kelas smiled, eyes twinkling with the pleased mischief that reminded Garak of another dear doctor.

“Good evening, minister.”

“Good evening, doctor,” Garak replied, walking away, but the sound of Kelas’ steps followed him. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company when I had expressly informed my staff to not let anybody in?”

Kelas laughed.

“Doctors can get away with murder these days. I just reminded your secretary that doctor Bashir and I saved her wife’s life, and the job was done.”

“Go and trust doctors,” Garak said, as they stepped into the road. “You all are the bane of my existence.”

“We love you too, you know.”

“Undoubtedly.”

“Well, if you don't believe me, perhaps you can trust the new member of staff I’ve been assigned. An off worlder no less.”

“Oh, interesting,” Garak replied, his politician mask strengthening, showing polite interest while hiding his heart running faster on his chest. “From the Bajoran relief efforts?”

“No, Elim,” Kelas replied, rolling his eyes. “Federation. Bashir is back. He left the hospital a little earlier than me.”

Garak’s heart stumbled under the mask hardening on his face as he watched Kelas' face open in a soft, warm smile.

He knows you. He knows your feelings well enough.

Garak used all his former Obsidian Order training to remain right where he was and not run to find shelter from those eyes that seemed to see far too deep inside of him.

“Do you happen to know where he was going?” he asked them, swallowing down the thought of how strange it was that Kelas wasn't questioning why Garak didn't know of Julian’s return.

“He told me he was going to go home before nurse Look and the others could throw him a welcome back party.”

Home.

Their home?

Impossible. Surely. How…

He cleared his mind, stopping the onslaught of questions whirling in his mind. The only thing that mattered right at that moment was to get to Julian.

“Thank you, Kelas.”

“Don't mention it. After all, that's what friends are for.”

It can't be.

I would have known if Julian was coming back, my contacts on DS9 would have told me.

Kelas would not be so cruel as to make fun of me this way. Also, remember that Julian has kept secrets from you before, successfully.

Garak stood in front of his apartment door, his legs too heavy to move. No sound came from within. Usually, wherever Julian was, there was always some form of noise: an unstoppable avalanche of words when talking about his work, a song sung absent-mindedly while fixing some dinner when it was his turn to cook, the sound of naked feet on the stone floor when he was late for something and needed to get ready quickly. The current silence knotted Garak's stomach over itself.

But he needed to face him, if he was there at all. He opened the door, finding the corridor of the small ministerial apartment in the dark.

“Doc-”

The warm, mammalian scent hit him then, his whole body surging under its onslaught. He followed it, because doing anything else was unthinkable, and got to the little square living room. Julian was there, in the darkness, illuminated only by the light of the PADD he was holding with two hands. His elbows were balancing on his knees, his tall frame crumpled on itself.

“Is this-” Julian coughed, clearing his strangely rough voice. He didn't add anything for an eternity, letting the pressure in Garak's chest grow and grow. Then, finally, he lifted his eyes. They looked distant, strangely haunted. “Is this how you see me?”

He turned the PADD around. Garak's own drawing was there, the one he had taken in that last moment of quietness before Julian was to depart. He had kept it safe, encrypted and out of sight, even his own. He had brought it up on his own screen only once, and the image had taken his breath away with a stronger force and pain than a pack of Klingons beating him. And now it was there, staring at him, just like Julian was, his question still lingering in the air.

“My dear, firstly, welcome back, it's quite a surprise to see you back here. Secondly-”

“Elim, please.”

The pressure in his chest increased.

Why were Julian’s eyes glistening in that strange way?

Why was his voice trembling?

“Please what, my dear doctor?”

“Answer my question. Is this what you see when you look at me?”

Garak took a step back, instinctively reminding himself where all his weapons were stashed. This was Julian, there was no need for weapons, and yet somehow he would have wanted protection from the one person he wanted most in the world. Was he upset at the loss of privacy? Dignity? Garak had drawn him naked, relaxed and spent, quite a substantial invasion of his privacy. Yet, if that was what was in Julian’s mind, Garak would have expected him to be angry, to shout, to just delete the thing and find ways to delete any possible other copies. Instead Julian was standing quietly in front of him, his usually steady hands trembling at the side.

So, Garak steadied himself, squared up and asked, “What do I see, Julian?”

This time, Julian was the one to take a step back. He looked at the PADD before he added in a voice so quiet that Garak nearly missed it.

“Soft,” Julian said, biting his lower lip.

“Gentle.” He touched the PADD’s screen with his index finger.

He took a sharp breath.

“Human.”

Garak remained silent as the knot in his stomach tightened. Julian’s body was the one on show on the PADD, and yet Garak was shivering as if he himself was standing there, naked and seen.

Julian lifted his eyes, locking his gaze with Garak's as he added, “Loved.”

Garak's breath hitched in his throat at that word and at the unspoken challenge burning in Julian’s eyes. A part of Garak wanted to run, to go and hide from those eyes pinning him on the spot as if he was a curious, scientific experiment.

Another wanted to gather this shaking, scared Julian in his arms and never let him go.

And this time, standing in an almost empty apartment with a new Cardassia rebuilding from its ashes, he made his decision.

Walking slowly on shaking legs, he closed the distance between them. He cupped Julian’s face with his hands, a warm shiver running down his spine when he heard his human gasp at the contact. Julian's eyes shut tight, but when he leaned into his right hand, Garak sighed in relief. Gently, he guided them to stand forehead to forehead.

“My dear Julian,” he murmured. “Did you not know?”

Julian’s dark eyes flew open. His body surged, trying to catch a shuddering breath that wasn't coming. His arms wrapped around Garak’s back, as they searched for purchase. Julian’s fingers dug into the fabric covering Garak's shoulders, almost tearing it.

“Elim, Elim-” he repeated over and over, as he hid his face in Garak's neck. “I didn't-”

“I have you, Julian,” Garak murmured, his left hand cupping the back of Julian's head, feeling his human hair against his skin. He was lightheaded from the storm in his chest and the human warmth and scent so close against him.

But Julian needed him.

He passed his other arm around Julian’s waist, holding him tight, guiding him to their shared bedroom.

Reverently, never leaving Julian’s eyes if he could avoid it, Garak helped him out of the clothes he had travelled in, kneeling in front of him to free him of his boots.

As they wrapped themselves in each other's arms on the bed that still smelled of them, Julian, on the brink of falling asleep, murmured, “I love you too.”

As his human fell asleep, Garak kissed his smooth forehead.

“I know.”