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They crash on a small planet in the middle of nowhere, because of course they do. Nothing with Garak is ever easy, and Julian should really know better by now. But whenever Garak calls, Julian comes running, because, being the sly bastard that he is, Garak knows exactly what to say to make any suggestion irresistible to Julian. Words like mystery and mission and secret.
So no one knows they're here, and consequently won't expect them back. And their runabout is... well it's still in one piece. Sort of.
Most of Garak's upper body is hidden inside the console he's currently fixing, and Julian has to admit that it's a little impressive for someone who keeps adamantly claiming that he's just a plain and simple tailor. The replicator is working, at least, and Julian brings Garak a cup of tea when he finally allows himself a break.
“How does it look?”
“Not good, I'm afraid,” Garak sighs, and his tail twitches behind him. Not a good sign to Julian's knowledge. Garak is always in complete control of himself at all times, so any visible sign of distress is putting Julian on immediate alert.
“Are you feeling all right?” he asks, and gets out his medical tricorder before Garak can complain.
“Perfectly fine, Doctor, no need for concern. It is perhaps a little hot in here,” he shrugs, and crawls back into the console.
Nothing shows up on the tricorder, but Julian isn't actually feeling warm at all. Add that to the fact that the average Cardassian enjoys their relaxing saunas at a temperature that would immediately burn Human skin, Julian is in fact a little concerned.
The small planet is fairly well known to the Federation, mostly because it fulfills the basic needs for Human survival, while being too small for an actual colony. But he still scans their surroundings as soon as Garak manages to revive the on-board computer by some minor miracle. Julian claps him on the shoulder with a proud grin. He doesn't care what kind of jury-rigging Garak had to do to fix it, as long as they can get a message home, and manage not to die while waiting for rescue.
He records his message and sends it off, hoping he'll get an answer soon, and glances at Garak who is pulling at the collar of his tunic and rolling his shoulders as if he's uncomfortable. The computer is working, but very slowly, and it takes several minutes before the results of the scan comes back. There's nothing in the air or atmosphere that raises any red flags, but there are always some unknowns, and there's no way to tell if they're all benign.
Julian keeps a close eye on Garak all the same.
By the end of the first day they get an answer to their distress signal. “Message received. Help is coming in two to four days. Remain calm.” So they got through to the nearest Federation outpost, not DS9. Oh well. Julian will take what he can get.
The next morning Garak is oddly quiet, and his replies to Julian's questions are sluggish. It's extremely worrying. But the medical tricorder still shows no distress, and Julian is baffled.
Garak stops talking entirely that same afternoon, and while he seems to understand well enough, he also doesn't seem concerned that he can't reply. Which is really making Julian worry, considering Garak's talkative nature.
However, Garak seems... calm. Comfortable. His tail sways lazily, and he tastes the air around him freely and unhurried. He seems fascinated with the dust motes swirling past with the gentle winds, and spends most of his time in the open door of the runabout, squatting at first, resting on this tail almost like a stool, but eventually tilting forwards instead to rest on his arms. Kind of like a dog, if Julian is being honest.
The only real sign of discomfort from Garak is the constant tugging at his tunic. The second day concludes with Julian gently coaxing Garak out of the doorway so they can shut it for the night. Not that the planet's shifting light levels follow any sort of recognizable pattern, but Julian needs sleep, and feels better for knowing where Garak is at all times. He asks the computer to notify him if Garak leaves, and this gets him a perfectly executed eye roll, which makes him feel almost sick with relief. Garak is still in there, somehow, and hopefully after a few hours of sleep Julian will be able to figure it out.
He wakes up to a sound of fabric ripping and jerks out of sleep to find Garak clawing at the collar of his tunic, already having managed to tear it slightly with his claws. Julian hurries over to him and gently catches Garak's hands before he can do any more damage, remembering vividly how he had shown off the outfit when he'd finished it a few weeks ago. He'd obviously dressed to impress for this sneaky trip.
Garak huffs with something like annoyance, but lets Julian hold his claws away from the fabric, although he does still squirm. Hoping that Garak won't be horrifically embarrassed when he's back to his old self, Julian cautiously suggests helping him out of the tunic, which gets him a shockingly gentle bump of Garak's snout against his cheek, as well as the slightly open mouth and squinted eyes that is the Cardassian equivalent of a smile, as far as Julian knows.
It's a struggle getting Garak undressed, his arms seemingly not wanting to bend how they usually do, and he insists with emphatic movements that they continue with the trousers, which makes Julian take a deep breath and promise himself to be professional about this.
It seems the clothing was the last barrier for Garak, and he bounds out of the door as soon as Julian opens it, loping along on four legs, looking more animal than Julian has ever seen him. He also looks more at ease than ever, and Julian hates himself for a moment for thinking that Garak might actually benefit from taking a break from his higher brain functions for a little while.
Julian worries that Garak might run off, but he returns when called, and happily lets Julian take more blood samples and measurements, that nonetheless show the exact same thing. There's nothing at all physically wrong with Garak as far as Julian or his barely functioning instruments can tell him.
The rest of the third day goes by with Julian wracking his brain, and Garak running around outside, always keeping in Julian's line of sight, but otherwise not paying him much attention. At least not until Julian calls him in for sleeping.
He accepts a small sandwich from the replicator that he usually enjoys, and eats it in one gulp which makes Julian stare. Cardassians do actually have an enormous amount of teeth, and he suddenly realizes the level of restraint Garak usually shows by eating in smaller bites when they have lunch.
Telling the computer again to alert him if Garak leaves doesn't get him an eye roll this time. What it does get him is a roughly 250 pound blanket of scales and sharp elbows, as Garak hops onto Julian's cot, and splays out his long naked body all across Julian's clothed one, tail swishing lazily against the floor.
“Uhm,” Julian says nervously, making Garak tilt his head at him in question, in an almost bird-like manner. “Are you sure this is what you want? I mean, you have a cot of your own right over there.”
Garak makes a tiny trilling noise at him that he's never heard before, tucks his snout under Julian's chin with a satisfied huff, and falls asleep in minutes. Julian lays awake for hours wondering what the hell he's gotten himself into.
He wakes up when the computer alerts him that Garak is leaving, and Julian spends a moment being amazed that a heavy, scaly Cardassian could move off him so gently that he didn't even stir. His whole front still feels warm, and he scratches his increasing stubble as he follows Garak outside.
For a planet that seems a little gloomy light-wise, as well as made of mostly dust and rocks, it's kind of a nice day. The two stars providing light are high in the sky, and the wind has died down to nearly nothing. Garak finds a slab of rock of a decent size and splays out on it, looking like he's ready to just go back to sleep on the hot surface. Julian spends several minutes just watching Garak sunbathe lazily, tail barely moving, betraying a level of trust Julian had honestly thought Garak incapable of. He jerks out of his gazing, though, when he remembers suddenly that he's actually staring at Garak naked. He hurries back inside the runabout, and doesn't emerge again until he starts worrying because he can't see Garak, who stays on the rock until midday, blinking slowly at Julian every time he glances over to check on him.
By the afternoon of the fourth day, Julian starts actively scanning for vessels. He makes one attempt at getting Garak into some trousers at least, to preserve his dignity upon their rescue, but all that gets him is the first sign of any negative emotion towards him, as Garak snaps his teeth menacingly. Julian wisely backs off after that.
Not that Garak seems to hold a grudge of any kind. If anything he's being... affectionate. He still lopes around until he's panting from exertion, but he keeps returning to Julian, gently bumping his snout against his cheek or his neck, and bringing him some admittedly very pretty rocks.
“Yes, thank you that's... lovely, Garak. And that one too. Yes, thank you very much. Honestly. They're beautiful. Yes, I see the blue one too.”
Garak tastes the air in front of Julian's face rapidly, looking somewhat excited and expectant. Julian has no idea what Garak wants from him.
“Erm,” he wavers, and Garak huffs at the lack of response before darting off again. He comes back with yet more things, dumping them all at Julian's feet. A small pile of sand of an interesting teal color, a chunk of some kind of crystal that shines pink even in the low light, a tiny slab of something that mostly looks like mother of pearl, some unidentifiable silky threads, and yet more rocks.
“Thank you,” he says again, giving Garak his best smile of approval and kindness. But Garak huffs more, obviously impatient now, and finally bumps his nose against Julian's hand. He lifts it, and Garak immediately shoves his head against Julian's palm, and finally Julian gets it.
“Oh, all right then,” he murmurs, and scratches Garak's chin and cheeks, detouring to his hair upon Garak's squirming request. They end up awkwardly entangled because Garak does his best to climb into Julian's lap, but he accepts defeat, and Julian gently arranges him so the long, ridged snout is resting on his thighs, giving his hands access to all the spots Garak seems to enjoy having touched. No, enjoy doesn't really cover the sheer ecstatic pleasure Garak seems to take from every small scritch, more and more trills and chirps humming against Julian's legs every minute.
It's not something Julian would normally do, but Garak is a patient, not to mention a dear friend, and whatever else he is, Garak is very important to Julian, and he's willing to do whatever he has to in order to keep Garak comfortable. He does feel bad about the situation, knowing that Garak will most likely be mortified when he recovers...
When. Not if. If isn't even an option.
But despite his frustration of not having any answers, the closeness is comfortable, and he lets himself relax, leaning against the hull of the runabout, with Garak chirping happily at him into the early evening. He's pretty much dozing when the console springs to life and informs him that a rescue team will be with them in the next 24 hours, having been delayed by the very same meteor shower that caused the crash in the first place. He reports back, Garak staring at him intently, but relaxing immediately when Julian goes back to the petting.
Garak follows him to bed again, and Julian doesn't even hesitate to tuck them both in until it's a comfortable - if tight - fit, Garak's breath huffing warmly against his neck all night.
A flurry of activity wakes Julian up, Garak scrambling off his chest, leaving a few painful elbow jabs in his wake, as he darts to the door and yanks it open with his claws, rather than using the door control. It's hanging off its hinges when Julian finally gets himself untangled from the blanket and hurries after him.
Outside, Garak is pacing, nose in the air and tongue flitting in and out so fast it's a blur to Julian's eyes, and his powerful tail coiling and swiping behind him.
“Garak, what-” Julian starts, only to be cut off by the console.
“This is Federation runabout Taicon responding to your distress signal. Please acknowledge.”
Julian keeps his eyes on Garak, who is still pacing, and now also making worried little peeping sounds in his throat, and pats his com-badge, relaying the message to the console inside. “This is Chief Medical Officer Julian Bashir of Deep Space Nine. I can't tell you how happy I am to hear your voices.”
“Likewise, Doctor. We can't use transporters here, the atmospheric conditions making it unsafe, so we'll be touching down on the planet to pick you up shortly.”
Julian is about to acknowledge when they hear the first distant roar of engines as the runabout makes its descent. Garak flinches and screeches with distress, obviously completely beyond recognizing what he's hearing, and Julian slaps at his com-badge.
“Runabout Taicon, please, do not approach until my say so. I have a patient in distress, and I'll need to secure him.”
“Understood.”
The sound of thrusters dies off, and Julian assumes they've touched down further away. It doesn't do squat for Garak's unease, though, and he almost shoves Julian on his ass when he tries to leave the runabout, obviously wanting him to stay inside.
“Garak, please, calm down,” Julian says quietly, making his voice as soothing as he possibly can. But Garak is still wary, head darting in all directions, and tail swishing in wide arcs, obviously on high alert.
Something has to be done, and Julian makes sure his phaser is in his belt on the highest stun setting, just in case, before appealing to Garak's obvious fondness for him. He gets out his hypo, the same one he's used to take blood samples with before, and loads it with a tranquilizer. Garak looks at it with obvious suspicion, but Julian pets his hair and scratches his chin, until Garak sighs, and obligingly gives Julian access to his neck.
He's out cold in a second.
* * *
A day or so later, Garak is fully recovered. Julian's rigorous testing of their blood reveals a previously unknown component of the planet's atmosphere, which apparently has no ill effects on Humans, at least not without substantially longer exposure, but will clearly affect a Cardassian's higher level brain functions.
Julian had made sure not to call the rescue team back until he'd wrestled Garak into a basic patient gown, keeping his dignity as intact as possible, and by the time he'd woken up he'd been alert enough already to express gratitude for it, clearly remembering everything, but not eager to discuss it.
He enters Julian's quarters, looking like his usual composed self, having already cleaned and mended his suit.
“Ah, Doctor. Mind if I join you for tea?”
“Of course not.” Julian smiles and gestures to the chair next to him in the spartan quarters aboard the USS Elfin, heading for DS9 to obligingly bring them home.
Garak perches on the chair, and tilts his head at a small purse on the table next to the console. He tugs it open with a delicate claw, and raises his eye ridges when he sees the colorful trinkets inside.
“You kept them,” he says carefully, picking up the small sample jar Julian had used to scoop up the pretty sand.
“Of course I did. They were gifts. From you.” Julian knows he's hot in the face, but he's not backing down. Someone dear to him gave him something nice, and even if he wasn't exactly in his right state of mind at the time, Julian is not going to disregard the gesture.
Garak regards him with piercing eyes, and Julian waits for whatever teasing Garak is about to bestow on him as per usual. But what he gets instead is Garak leaning in very slowly, and touching his snout to Julian's cheek so gently he barely feels it.
“Thank you, Doctor,” he murmurs, and Julian gets the feeling they've somehow crossed a barrier he wasn't aware they were steering clear of, and he's not at all sure where they go from here.
Undoubtedly, Garak will expect him to figure it out all on his own with only the barest hints. But he finds that he's looking forward to the challenge.
End.