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Julian looked at the transport flying away, all the way until it went to warp. Although his parents were aboard the shuttle, taking away the heaviness of Julian’s relationship with them, Julian felt like he couldn’t feel joy over it. Not when his father was going to prison to keep Julian from resigning. Not when Amsha and Richard still called him Jules, against all his wishes. Not when nothing at all had changed – Julian had promised to go see Richard in prison, even though he didn’t really want to see Richard any more than necessary.
It still felt like his parents had won.
Checking the time, Julian almost felt his heart skip a beat. It was much later than he’d thought. His shift – the one he’d never shown up for – had already ended and it was almost time for the shops on the Promenade to close. If Julian rushed, he could still catch Garak before he closed his shop.
For some reason, Julian needed Garak’s company. He didn’t quite know why – Garak had an odd way of existing which brought Julian a strange sense of comfort whenever all the memories seemed to catch up on him.
And, after the previous night’s conversation, Julian felt like he owed it to Garak to let him know that Julian wouldn’t be leaving the station after all.
The Promenade was crowded, but Julian managed to slip through the masses and into Garak’s shop. He was occupied – a customer was fitting a dress he’d made – and Julian sat down on the comfortable sofa to wait. He loved that sofa. So many debates had been had on that sofa.
To think that, only a few hours earlier, Julian had been ready to leave it all behind.
The customer left, and Garak turned to look at Julian. For a moment, neither of them said a word.
“So, it’s over then?” Garak asked softly. “You’ve come to say your goodbyes, haven’t you, my dear doctor?”
Julian’s stomach sunk. “No”, he whispered, shaking his head, “no, I’m not leaving. I’m staying. I’m still not quite sure how, but I’m staying.”
Garak sat down by Julian’s side. He let his hand hover just over Julian’s cheek before cupping it, pinching Julian’s skin ever so slightly. A relieved laugh erupted from Garak who then pulled Julian into a crushing embrace. Julian found himself laughing as well, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his chest.
“I’m glad”, Garak breathed, “I truly am. Life on the station would be quite dull without you, dear doctor.”
Nodding, Julian pulled himself away from the embrace. He shuffled his feet, avoiding Garak’s eyes. He began to fidget with his hands, trying to give his eyes something to concentrate on.
“Something is still bothering you”, Garak said. He placed his hand over Julian’s to keep Julian from injuring himself – Julian had a tendency to pick at his skin which caused little cuts all over his hands. “Should we retire to your quarters? We could have some tea and talk it over. These few days have been stressful to you, I see.”
Julian nodded again. With no further ado, Garak set out to prepare the shop to be closed for the night. It was a quick business; he only needed to put the loose fabrics where they were supposed to be and then he was ready to go. While waiting, Julian draped himself dramatically over the sofa in a way that he knew would make Garak laugh.
As expected, when Garak finished tidying up the shop, he turned to look at Julian and promptly began to laugh. Julian smiled, finding that the sound warmed his heart in a way he had never quite felt before.
“It’s good to see that you’re still the same old you”, Garak said, still laughing. He pulled Julian up and the led him out of the shop. “For a moment there, I feared it was the holographic projection of you. I am glad that I was wrong.”
Julian squeezed Garak’s fingers, trying with it to convey everything he felt at that moment. “I’m glad too”, he whispered, “to be honest, it still feels a little bit unreal that I get to stay after all.”
They didn’t speak much on the way to Julian’s quarters. Julian hadn’t stopped feeling rather uncomfortable, a bit like his own body didn’t belong to him. He had no words to give to Garak; the apologies welling in Julian’s chest felt wrong, out of place.
Upon arriving to Julian’s quarters, Garak ushered Julian onto the sofa. He, on the other hand, went to replicate them some tea (Tarkalean, extra sweet) and a little bit of chocolate. It was something that had started on accident when Julian had told Garak about the way chocolate affected dopamine production – both of them just desperately wanted the other to feel better. For people who loved talking and debating, Julian and Garak were hopelessly bad at having an actual conversation.
“Now”, Garak breathed, having sat down next to Julian, “it is time to bare your soul. Tell me why you’re unhappy, despite being allowed to stay.”
“It’s dumb”, Julian said, rubbing his eyes, “it’s just…I feel like my parents still somehow won. My father’s going to prison for the genetic augmentations he had performed on me, even though I told him and my mother not to involve themselves after the secret got out. I hate the fact that I owe them now, once again.”
Julian was looking straight ahead, avoiding Garak’s gaze. To give himself something to do, he grabbed the hot cup of tea and took a sip. It burned his tongue, which gave him that terrible kind of satisfaction that he at least felt something. That was better than nothing at all. Julian knew that this was a catastrophically bad mindset to be in; that he should know better than to hurt himself. But Julian found himself not caring, since everything had already crumbled on top of him, leaving him to pick up the broken pieces.
There was no point pretending that Julian was fine any longer.
“You don’t owe them”, Garak said softly, “yes, they should have listened to you, but I’m glad that they didn’t, thus allowing you to remain here. What they did to you in your childhood was awful and cruel; it means they do not deserve anything good from you. Even though they did save your career, that does not mean you owe them anything. To deserve your forgiveness, your parents should do a great deal more, not just save your Starfleet career.”
Julian blinked. “But how do I make them understand that?” he whispered, voice scratchy with emotion. “How do I tell them that, by making me into the genetically augmented superhuman they wanted, they irredeemably broke something in me?”
“You don’t have to”, Garak told Julian, “sometimes our parents will not want to understand, and it is better that we do not attempt to make them.”
Garak pulled Julian close into an embrace, stroking Julian’s arm. Julian carefully placed down his cup of tea and leaned deeper into Garak’s touch, as if hiding between Garak’s arms could make Julian feel less empty, less like a failure.
“Sometimes”, Julian breathed, “I have this suffocating feeling inside my chest. I don’t quite understand it, to be honest. I’ve tried to scan myself whenever I feel it, but I get nothing. It’s like the whole thing’s just in my head.”
Sighing, Garak squeezed Julian’s shoulder. “Have you considered”, he asked, “that it is in fact in your head? To me, it sounds like a psychosomatic emotion. Not so uncommon with people who are traumatised. People such as you, my dearest doctor. Why, I do not recall you ever talking about your emotions, now that I think of it.”
Exhaling, Julian blinked. An emotion. Julian hated emotions; they were such a mess to deal with. Julian always felt things with an unmatched intensity, but he never quite seemed to understand his emotions. They were formless and difficult, interfering with Julian’s daily routine. Of course, Julian did know some of them but, as of late, he’d been having difficulties with them again. A month in the Jem’Hadar prison camp and then having to deal with his parents had left a mark on Julian.
“It always comes when I think of Jules”, Julian whispered, “I think of Jules and my childhood and how betrayed I felt when I found out about the augmentations and then there’s that ugly, suffocating mass inside my chest and I can’t breathe.”
“Do you miss not knowing?” Garak asked softly, now stroking Julian’s hair.
Julian shook his head. “It’s better that I know. I wish I could be carefree again, that I didn’t hate my parents. But I have to live with what they did to me. I have to live, knowing that Jules Bashir died because my parents couldn’t handle the same of having a son who didn’t measure up. Jules trusted his parents blindly and what did he get in return? Shame, and the fear of being alone in an unfamiliar hospital room.”
Once Julian had begun, the words wouldn’t stop pouring out. Perhaps it was a good thing, letting out all the horrible thoughts that had festered inside Julian.
“I hate it, Garak”, Julian choked out, “I hate knowing that these people claim to have loved me, that perhaps they do. I hate that I get to be here, get to be happy, even, while Jules Bashir is no more! I hate the fact that, for one to exist, the other had to die. I hate it, because I could have been happy without all these damned augmentations that have brought me nothing but pain.”
Gasping, Julian drew in a shuddering breath. He was pressing the heel of his hand against his forehead, his whole body trembling. Garak was still holding him, gently rocking Julian back and forth.
“Thank you for telling me”, Garak breathed, “thank you for trusting me. Your feelings, not matter how difficult, are reasonable. It’s alright to be as angry as you are.”
Julian nodded. “I thought anger would be easy, but it just makes me very tired. And sad.”
“Well”, Garak said, “we can’t have that. Perhaps it would be wise for us to go to sleep a bit early, wouldn’t you say?”
“Us?” Julian asked weakly, looking up at Garak.
“I wouldn’t dare to leave you alone, my dearest”, Garak answered, as if it would be simple as that, “not when you feel so terrible. I trust your bed will fit us both?”
Before Julian could quite wrap his head around it all, Garak had him settled on the bed. Julian changed into his nightclothes somewhat automatically while Garak searched Julian’s closets for the pyjamas he had brought there for the nights they didn’t want to spend alone.
Soon Julian and Garak lay side-by-side on the bed, Julian all but glued onto Garak. Julian’s head was on Garak’s shoulder and Garak was rubbing Julian’s back absentmindedly, knowing how it calmed the doctor.
“Garak”, Julian breathed, “Elim. Why are you doing this? Being so kind, even though you know what I am?”
“Because, Julian”, Garak answered, “you, the menace of a doctor I’ve grown to know over the years, have brightened my days in this gloomy wheel of a space station. You have caught me when I’ve fallen; it is only fair that I do the same for you.”
Kissing Julian’s forehead, Garak added, “and, as I’ve told you, I love you for some reason that is beyond me. Happy now, my personal handsome menace?”
Julian laughed weakly, pressing his hands against his prickling eyes. “Yes”, he whispered, “yes, I think I am.”