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Julian feels like a knot. Tangled and twisted, his frayed ends catching on his thoughts only to tighten the lump in his chest. He eats lunch alone most days, but he’s never felt lonely on those days like he does now. He wants someone to sit down and pull him from his winding thoughts. He wants to be left alone. He wants to be asked how he’s doing even if he can’t tell them the truth. How could he? He barely knows what the truth is.
“May I join you?”
Just the sound of his voice makes part of the knot unfurl like it had never been there. Garak hadn’t spoken since he had asked for forgiveness what feels like so long ago and Julian had worried he never would again, at least not to him. But his relief can’t overcome the shock at seeing Garak up and walking, a polite smile on his face as though this was just another lunch.
“Garak?” Julian stutters out.
The knot in his chest tightens again when he realizes he said Garak but he could call him something different. Julian has spent hours staring at Garak’s sleeping form trying to make sense of everything he’s learned. But though it all fits together like perfect puzzle pieces, he can’t seem to make sense of the picture they show. He’s still Garak, even after everything, and Julian’s not sure what that means.
Garak takes a seat as though Julian has invited him and every word that comes out of his mouth makes the knot loosen and loosen. Oh, how Julian wants to be livid, for the pain, the lies, for leaving care before Julian allowed him, for smiling like none of that matters. But when Garak asks after his I'danian spiced pudding, Julian swallows down a smile and has to convince himself he needs to still be upset.
“How can you just sit there and pretend that the last ten days never happened?” he says.
It’s not the right thing to say. Not because Garak answers it easily, unperturbed, but because once he says it, he knows it’s not Garak he’s asking.
The name on his ribs seems to burn.
Julian wonders what would happen if he were to call him Elim. Interrupt whatever story he’s telling and let the name slip out. Just the thought has his heart racing. Would Garak be surprised, shocked that Julian figured out his little ruse? Would his eyes widen, would he flinch, would his heart start to beat the same way Julian’s did when he first heard it?
It suddenly occurs to him that he doesn’t know how Cardassians treat first names. Garak doesn’t call Julian by his name at all. Perhaps it’s intimate. The thought only makes him want to say it more. Perhaps he’d only get one chance to say his name, the name on his skin, before Garak explained it wasn’t proper and Julian wouldn’t be allowed to say it again. As though Julian shouldn’t be the only one allowed to say it.
Julian’s mouth forms the name, remembering how it fell so nicely from his lips the first and only time he has said it. His heart thumps. And then he presses his lips into a hard line and takes a sip of tea to hide it.
Elim may not be Garak’s secret anymore, but it’s still Julian’s.
Garak smiles and Julian couldn’t stop from smiling back even if he wanted to. He made his decision on forgiveness days ago and it’s too easy to let the last of his anger slip away with the last knot in his chest.
The rest of their lunch isn’t exactly the same as it was the week before, they’ve been through too much to come out the other side unchanged. But it’s comfortable and familiar, perhaps a little nicer even with all the things left unsaid hanging between them.
This is enough, he thinks.
Garak is enough.
*
The replimat is quiet today, reflecting an odd time of peace on the station that Julian isn’t sure will last long. He’d taken the lull as a chance to repay Garak’s never-ending novel recommendation with one of his own.
“That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet,” Garak says.
Julian has always thought Garak was a man made for Shakespeare; his natural theatrics perfect for twisting soliloquies and grand gestures carefully littered with subtly only those that watched closely could catch. Leonardo, Iago, Feste but he’s never pictured Garak as young, desperately in love Juliet. That brings a smile to his face that he doesn’t bother hiding. Garak seems to understand his smile and rolls his eyes.
“Names seem to be important here,” Garak says instead.
Julian ignores the pang in his chest. Garak is too able to cut to the quick, even when he doesn’t know he’s cutting at all. Julian sometimes wonders what’ll happen when he’s left with nothing but the quick.
“Surely you agree that what you call yourself can change all sort of things.”
In his mind he ends that sentence with Elim and Garak laughs at the pointedness.
“Hmm of course but being deliberately obtuse is not a good look on you my dear.”
Julian knows what Garak is asking for, the human context that makes this line more than it seems, one scholars have debated over for centuries. He wants to ask Garak why this line, how did he know it was so important, but he can tell Garak won’t be swayed off-topic.
He could tell him. Not about the name on his ribs, but that there are names at all.
Julian told himself he gave Garak Romeo and Juliet to compare with A Song in Shrouds, because he would find it annoying and simplistic in its tragedy and Garak was at his most entertaining when he was annoyed. But if Julian is honest with himself, he chose it for this moment.
“Do you know of soulmates Garak?” he asks, hiding his nerves behind a sip of tea.
Garak’s eyes furrow and Julian wonders what he heard, how the universal translator had conveyed the idea of soulmates to a species without them.
“I’ve heard of the trope yes.”
Julian laughs, hoping it comes out amused rather than hysterical. He worries that Garak can hear his heart thumping in his throat, or sense that his hands are too carefully placed around his mug, his mouth at a too nonchalant angle. He takes a breath.
“Not a trope so much as a fact. One I’m surprised you don’t know,” he says taking the final plunge.
“Oh, I suppose you’ll have to enlighten me, doctor,” Garak says airily, but he leans forward and his eyes are sharp.
“It’s an anomaly for sure, but humans uh, they have soulmates.”
“And do they get to know who these soulmates are?” Garak asks amused, clearly believing Julian is being romantic. He has the same condescending smile he makes whenever Julian says something particularly optimistic.
“They do. They get a name patterned on their skin through melanin changes.”
Garak’s face loses its derision until he simply looks baffled.
“That seems like a strange operation for every human to go under.”
“No, humans are born with the pattern, the name. It’s called a soul mark.”
“And these soulmates are-?”
He trails off and Julian takes a moment to gather his thoughts. He’s never had to explain soulmates to someone. He thinks about what his parents told him, back when he had been old enough to understand. He thinks about what his textbooks had said, though scientists are still mostly puzzled by soulmates and marks. He thinks about the texts and forums he’d found when he was desperate to believe the pattern on his skin was random. They’re everything. But also, nothing.
“Most believe your souls are shared with the person whose name is on your skin. That you’re destined to be together,” he says finally.
Garak’s gaze turns contemplative, and he hums to himself.
“Hmm, how obedient.”
Julian winces. He’d thought the same for the last decade, trying to separate himself from the name on his skin and the downfall that would come with it. But a small part of him can’t help but feel wounded hearing the rejection straight from his soulmate’s mouth, even if his mate is unaware of it, even if he wouldn’t allow for acceptance.
“By any other name would smell just as sweet,” Garak says again. “So, we are to assume that she’s talking about the name, her soul mark?”
Julian smiles.
“Shakespeare never revealed the character’s soul marks in any of his plays. It’s quite a debate among literary scholars. There are those who claim it is only the love and loss of a soulmate that could drive such a tragedy and the “name” she’s referring to is Montague, not the soul mark. But some claim it’s only the lack of matching soul marks that would force them to go to such lengths and therefore the “name” is Romeo and the lack of it on her skin.”
“Ah but Doctor, at the beginning Romeo was chasing after that woman Rosaline, so they must not be soulmates,” Garak says.
“Not everyone waits for their soulmate,” Julian says.
He winces immediately. His words came out too sharp to be anything but personal.
Garak’s eyes burrow into him but Julian meets the gaze head on, pretending it doesn’t feel like Garak can see straight through him. He wants Garak to ask the question that’s hanging between them. Are you waiting? But Julian knows he won’t. The answer is already clear, it’s clear to anyone who pays attention that Julian isn’t waiting, hasn’t waited since he was a child. But he wants Garak to ask anyway because Julian would tell him the truth just this once. No, I already found them.
But Garak doesn’t know there’s more to the answer than no so he thinks he doesn’t need to ask.
“It’s all rather simplistic is it not,” Garak says instead. “It’s all a series of mistakes. I thought for sure the prince would be revealed as the one behind it all.”
Garak’s annoyance is just as amusing as Julian thought it would be and they move on, not mentioning soulmates again.
He is relieved. He is disappointed.
*
Julian can’t remember why they’re drinking tonight but he’s glad they are. Julian doesn’t drink much; he had found out the first time he and his friend had stolen a bottle of their parent’s synthale that his augmentation came with an increased alcohol metabolism that made getting drunk a hard thing to do. Pretending to be drunk was a lot less fun than actually being drunk.
But he and Miles are in his quarters rather than Quark’s so there’s no Ferengi carefully watching his glass and Miles is too proud to not match him drink for drink, so Julian indulged more than he tended to. Miles is certainly not paying attention to how drunk Julian is, but with the extra drinks he sneaked, Julian thinks he might be the drunkest he’s ever gotten.
There’s been a weight in his chest that he’s been carrying for what feels like months, maybe years. Building and building under the pressure of sitting across from what he can’t have. He thought a fun night with Miles would help but he feels so heavy he doesn’t think he can move.
The problem is Elim Garak. Julian thinks he could have handled Elim or Garak, but Elim Garak is too much. Garak alone was dangerous, oh so dangerous, but so fun. How is he to resist something that makes his heart leap like his most exciting holodeck adventures? He would have given in at some point, Julian knows. He’d be willing to play the risky game of letting Garak closer, if only to feel the touch of his cool hands on his bare skin, hear his voice whisper everything but their hidden secrets in the dark, to claim him as his. He had let Palis that close, surely if he was careful, he could have Garak. If he got too close, well he has always been good at running away.
Garak is risky, but Elim Garak is perilous. Elim Garak would see his name written across Julian’s ribs and realize it wasn’t just danger or allure that kept him trapped in his orbit. Elim Garak wouldn’t let him run away when he got too close to the truth.
Elim alone was simple to handle. Julian had never expected to meet Elim, but if he had it would have been easy to hide, to chase him away. He’s been reliably informed he’s an annoying little bastard on his best days. Elim is avoidable, but Elim Garak is too important. By the time he’d met Elim, he’d already come to know Garak. Dangerous, exciting Garak who he came to care about, came to– dare he even allow himself to think it– love. How could he run from that? He didn’t want to.
Garak is risky. Elim is avoidable. But Elim Garak is impossible.
Miles is mumbling something about theoretical warp physics as Julian stares into his glass, he didn’t realize he could be a sad drunk. The pressure in his chest builds and the buzz is just enough that he finds himself talking without permission.
“Miles?”
“Yes,” he slurs.
“Is Keiko… you know?” Julian asks as he rests his warm cheek against the cool table, shifting to look at Miles’ face.
Miles squints, trying to work out the unsaid question and Julian wants to hide his face in his hands, wishing he could take it back. It wasn’t like people weren’t supposed to ask about soulmates, but it could definitely be seen as rude, especially if someone took offense at the idea they’d marry someone other than their mate. Julian hadn’t wanted to talk about soulmates in a long time. He feels like a silly tween again, trading letters with classmates to guess what name was hidden on each other’s skin.
But his mark has started to feel like a brand, burning into his skin and his mind every time Garak smiles too fondly. He wants to be rid of the burning, of the pressure, he wants to feel free as he did before he learned he had been running away from the wrong name.
Miles seems to finally get the question and grins.
“Of course!” he says, swaying closer to Julian.
“Did you.” Julian pauses, his tipsy mind trying to desperately not spill anything he shouldn’t. “Did you ever think it wasn’t right?”
Miles stares at him and frowns. Julian can practically see him trying to sober up to have this conversation.
“The first time we fought I almost cried,” he says quietly, like he is sharing a secret. “Why would we fight if we were soulmates? I thought I was fucked. I fucked it all up. But we fight because we’re soulmates I figured out. You know?”
Julian didn’t know.
“Is it worth it?” Julian mutters, more a thought than a question.
“It’s everything,” Miles says so firmly he might as well not have had a drop of alcohol.
They were silent for a moment.
“Did you find your mate?” Miles asks hesitantly.
“Maybe,” Julian lies.
“That’s great!”
“I can’t be with him,” Julian says hiding his face in his arms. “It would be… bad.”
Miles scowls.
“If it would be bad why would he be your soulmate?”
Julian blinks.
“What?”
“If it would be bad, he wouldn’t be your soulmate, right? If the fighting were bad, we wouldn’t be soulmates,” Miles says like he’s annoyed Julian didn’t understand him the first time. “I’m stubborn, she’s even more stubborn. But what? My soulmate wouldn’t just roll over and take it. It had to be Keiko who would push me the way I push her. But that means we fight sometimes. Because we’re soulmates and if you’re soulmates what’s bad isn’t always bad. So you should go get him.”
Miles' impassioned drunken speech makes such perfect sense in Julian’s foggy head that he shoots up from his seat. The weight he’s been carrying falls off and for a second he thinks the gravity might have shut off. Garak is his soulmate. He’d been so caught up in the fact he had to keep it a secret he hadn’t seen the forest for the trees. Garak would keep his secret. Elim Garak isn’t impossible, it’s the answer.
Julian grins so wide he thinks his face might rip in half.
“You’re right.”
Julian’s ready to run to Garak’s door and throw himself at the man, take what he’s wanted for years, but the second he stands his body lurches and he’s forced to stumble his way to the couch. He must have sneaked too many drinks. He lays down, it won’t take long for the alcohol to be processed and then he can find Garak. His eyes start to droop. Thinking a nap couldn’t hurt, he sighs and lets them slip closed.
That night he lets himself dream of having Garak like he’s always wanted.
In the morning remembers reality, he remembers Garak’s lies, he remembers Jules.
Still, he holds the memory of his dreams tightly and thinks of feeling like the gravity has been turned off.
*
Julian’s mind had decided, completely separate from Julian’s own wishes, that he and Garak were on a date. It wasn’t really, he knew that. It wasn’t a particularly romantic date even if it had been one, but he couldn’t deny the unmistakable date jitters that thumped in his chest. When Julian had invited Garak to Major Kira’s springball game, he hadn’t really thought Garak would agree. Sports seemed to be one of the topics that Garak hadn’t dabbled in, but he had claimed he thought it was ‘a wonderful idea’ and that led to them to sitting side by side in the darkened hall. Sitting side by side feels worlds different than sitting across from each other in the bright promenade, he can’t explain why. Perhaps because it’s so much easier to just reach out and touch, he struggles not to. He uses the excuse of any particularly impressive move to grab his shoulder or pull on his sleeve to fulfill his urge to touch but it isn’t enough. None of it seems to be enough anymore.
Julian decides to blame his unfortunate date mind space for the way he snaps when he notices Garak staring at Ziyal.
“Stop watching her,” he bites out, eyes glued to the match even though he can barely remember which figure is Major Kira.
He’s lucky that Garak seems to think his anger is because of Garak’s own shiftiness instead of what it really is. It’s something much uglier than that. When Julian sees Garak’s eyes stray toward Ziyal, something deep and dangerous bubbles to the surface screaming mine.
Julian knows it’s ridiculous even as his teeth clench and Garak and he snipe at each other. Ziyal is practically a child and a few glances don’t mean anything. The problem is he’s never had to fight for Garak’s attention before. He’d grown comfortable that Garak would always be there, available for lunch or ready with a new book to argue over. The idea that he can be taken away is new and it’s surprisingly devastating.
He has a childish instinct to place himself between Garak and Ziyal, to pull open his shirt and show them that any passing interest can’t compare to the name that’s spelled out on Julian’s skin. Ziyal’s presence makes him feel reckless. Willing to risk every one of his secrets just to keep Garak by his side, to have him by his side in the way that he wants. Like a true soulmate.
But the jealousy quickly fades into a cold emptiness, because mine rings out as a lie.
Julian doesn’t know what kind of person Jules was, besides according to his parents “not enough”. Any memories before age 7 are fuzzy, fragile things. He remembers once fixing up Kukalaka with uneven stitches and miscolored string, he thinks he was proud of that even though Kukalaka was barely patched. Julian holds onto that memory as tightly as he can, because it makes him think Jules was kind, was good. Part of him uses it to cling to the idea that Jules is not completely gone, he’s somewhere in Julian, somewhere not dictated by nucleotides and methylation. Because if some part of Jules still lives in him it wouldn’t feel like he was stealing Elim. Maybe Elim would love him in the same way he would have loved Jules.
Sometimes, when Garak is on a rant he doesn’t care to listen to, Julian tries to picture who Jules was based on Elim. Who is the person that would share the soul of a man like Elim? It’s a twisted game of reverse engineering that only leaves Julian sick with jealousy over someone that’s no more than a ghost.
Jules wouldn’t need Elim to keep his secrets, Julian realizes suddenly as Garak sulks beside him. Jules wouldn’t have to hide and distance himself from everyone he met in case they looked too closely. Jules would have had Elim long ago. That makes it clear that Elim was always meant to be someone other than Julian’s.
Julian isn’t a Vulcan. He’s never considered himself to be particularly ruled by logic outside of medicine. But he feels like a Vulcan as he organizes his thoughts that night, his emotions almost a separate being as he realizes the only logical decision he can make.
It’s becoming too dangerous keeping Garak close. Just the sight of him looking at someone else is enough to make Julian want to lay his secrets at his feet and let him burn him to the ground.
Julian thought he could have Garak even if he couldn’t have Elim, but he should have known he isn’t allowed to have either.
*
His secret is out. The secret he’s guarded his whole life spilled like a forgotten glass of wine knocked over by a careless hand. Yet somehow, everything is ok. His job, his friends, his life are all still here, practically unchanged. He’s elated but a small part of him aches. Not that he wishes his life to crumble but at the years of hiding and running only for the truth to not change a thing, well, he feels a little foolish, though he knows the circumstances are extenuating.
He’s supposed to be on his lunch break but instead, he finds himself wandering the station like a ghost. It just doesn’t feel real, he’s still waiting for the anger, the consequences, something. He wonders if he’s in a dream, or maybe a nightmare.
His feet stop without his input and when he looks up, he’s standing in front of Garak’s shop.
How long has it been since he’s been to this shop?
Julian’s chest aches. It had been all too easy to distance himself from Garak. They still had lunch every once in a while and they had to interact in missions, but it’s not the same. Garak’s too smart to not know what Julian was doing. He can see the wall Julian’s built between them as clear as if Julian had built it with physical bricks. Garak hadn’t confronted him, but he always has a look in his eyes when their eyes meet that makes Julian want to tear the wall down and drop to his knees for forgiveness. He wishes Garak was angry, but instead he just looks resigned, as though he had always expected this to happen.
He can’t see Garak from where he’s standing. He wonders if he’s in there, cutting his fabric or stitching some embroidery. Julian used to barge into his shop and drag him out to lunch when he was feeling particularly bored. Garak used to tut at him like a disappointed school master, but he smiled the brightest during those lunches.
Is he allowed to have that again?
Excitement that feels like adrenaline floods his bloodstream, sending his heart racing. Garak must know by now.
The threat is gone. There is no reason for Julian to build walls anymore because there is nothing left to hide. He takes a step forward, already thinking of all he could do to make up for lost time.
Shame washes over him like a bucket of cold water.
He forces himself to turn around and leave Garak’s shop. If he was the same bold and arrogant man who had first stepped onto this station, Julian thinks he might be able to pretend his actions don’t matter. Surely Garak would take him back, ignore how Julian had pushed him away, so they could finally have what they both wanted. However, Julian’s grown since then. Garak deserves better. He deserves someone who doesn’t treat him as a second choice.
Julian made his choice and now he has to face it.
*
One day, Miles calls him Jules. It doesn’t make him bristle the way it has since he was 15. Instead, it settles into his chest like a warm raktajino and he thinks oh.
*
Starfleet doesn’t give him a medal of courage after the war is finally finished. Everyone on Deep Space Nine is awarded one. Everyone but him.
He’s not angry even though he should be. Earning something like the medal of courage is everything he dreamt of since he was a kid. But it’s not the lack of recognition that would draw his anger. They won’t give it to him because he’s an augment. He knows that’s the reason, though no one would admit to it. It wouldn’t fit in their narrative for augments to be brave, to be loyal, to do what’s right, so they’ve cut him out. He should be livid, it would be a righteous anger, but he’s not.
Ezri doesn’t understand, though she thinks she does. She tries to comfort him, and it reminds him so much of the Carrington Award that he almost calls her Jadzia when he asks her to stop. It’s just another reminder of why being with her would be a mistake.
The only reason he can’t be angry is that when they refused to give him one, he realized they were right.
He thought he’d been making the first free choice of his life to stay. No name chasing him, no threat of his secret hanging over him, without coercion he decided to stay on Deep Space Nine even though everyone else seemed to leave. But it hits him like a train, months into his misery in a place that no longer feels like home, he’s still running.
He’s lived his life running away.
He ran from Elim and when Elim found him, he ran from Garak instead.
He tried to tell himself it was a necessity but in the end, it wasn’t about his augmentation or Jules or timing; it was because he’s a coward.
He’s tired of being a coward.
He’s run away, he’s stayed in place, finally, he decides to chase.
Julian is amazed at how little it feels like he’s throwing his life away when he turns in his resignation and buys the next frater ticket to Cardassia Prime. Instead, he just feels like the heroes in the stories he used to love as a kid, the ones that forsake everything for their soulmate. He knows there’s no guarantee of success, but for the first time, it’s a possibility.
When Julian finally finds Garak, he is kneeling in a sparse garden outside of a small house that’s been neatly, but miscellaneously put back together.
He watches just for a moment. He has no plan, no expectations, only a hope that he’s finally made the right choice. His heart hammers against his chest but as he watches Garak’s gentle movements he feels more at ease than he has in months.
“Elim,” he finally calls out.
It’s been years since he said that name even though he’s thought it every night for almost just as long.
Garak looks up, eyes wide as Julian has ever seen them and he can’t help but beam at the idea of surprising Garak.
“Doctor,” Garak all but breaths as he rises to his feet.
His knees are stain with dirt, a forgotten weed is still clenched in his hand, and the red light of the setting Cardassian sun makes him the most beautiful thing Julian has ever seen in his life. Julian can see Garak pulling himself together, locking up his surprise to be the unflappable man he always has been, but a mean little part of Julian doesn’t want to let him do that. He likes this slack jawed Garak too much.
Julian steps closer, coming close enough he could reach out a touch him if he wanted, but he holds back.
“I’m sorry,” Julian says, unwilling to obfuscate in clever ways as he had been when they first became friends.
Garak’s composure stumbles again.
“What? Doctor, what do you mean?”
“I mean a lot of things; I’ve had a lot of time to think since you left. But mostly I’m sorry for what I’ve kept from you.”
“My dear,” Garak says making Julian’s heart thump at the long unheard endearment. “I don’t believe I have any room to be hurt by you keeping your augmentation a secret. If anything, when I learned I had never been more impressed.”
Julian smiles, hoping it hides the fear that bubbles in his stomach.
“I’ve kept something else from you,” he says and reaches out his hand. “Can I show you?”
Julian takes Garak’s hand and leads him into his own house. Garak allows him, still trapped in confusion that only deepens when Julian reaches for the fastenings on his shirt and pulls it open.
Julian watches Garak’s face like it holds the answer to every question he has ever wondered and what he sees makes Julian’s knees shake like they’re going to give out.
Garak's gaze can only be called reverent when he sees his name spelled out on Julian’s skin. Julian takes Garak’s hand and presses it against the name. His cool fingers trace the federation standard, sending shivers across Julian’s body. He thinks he can feel Garak’s touch across his very soul.
Garak whispers Julian and his mind screams, finally, finally, finally.
He uses the hand on his rib to pull Garak closer and press their lips together. Garak opens himself to him and Julian kisses him like a man possessed. The house is wonderfully small, and Julian hasn’t even realized they’ve moved before Garak is pressing him into the soft warm sheets.
Garak’s lips brush over his throat, his shoulders, the name on his skin. Julian closes his eyes and sighs his name. He loses track of what name he says. Elim. Garak. Some half-gasped combination of them both. It doesn’t matter, Julian knows now. Because this is more than a secret or a name or a mark. This is everything.