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“You gave me answers, all right, but they were all different. What I want to know is, of all the stories you told me, which ones were true and which ones weren't? “
“My dear Doctor, they’re all true.”
“Even the lies?”
“Especially the lies.”
***
Despite the playfulness of Garak’s tone, Julian heard the finality of it. Garak did not want to speak any further about what had happened. Despite Garak’s best efforts and usual misdirection, Julian had learned more about his lunch companion in the past few days days than he ever had previously.
Julian was willing to accept this unspoken agreement... to a point. Maybe it was naive of him, but Julian hardly cared about his friend’s former career, and all the things Garak may or may not have done in service of the Cardassian state.
No – as Garak’s doctor and his friend – Julian was much more concerned about the revelation that Garak’s life aboard the station came with constant, physical pain, on top of the psychological toll of his exile. No matter how many lunches they had together, no matter how much Garak slowly warmed others to his presence on Deep Space Nine over the years, no matter how much the ache of exile could, perhaps, fade with time – the lights would still be too bright, the air still too cold, and Garak still a long way from home.
Julian couldn’t help himself. At the next lull in conversation, rare as they were during their spirited lunchtime debates, he broke that promise.
“Have you ever considered... protective eyewear?” Julian asked carefully, resigned to asking bluntly rather than wait around for a convenient occasion to broach the topic, which he knew was never going to come again if Garak had his way.
“Protective eyewear, Doctor?” Garak repeated, all feigned ignorance “To protect my eyes from what, exactly?” Garak made a broad gesture to their surroundings at the replimat, as if Julian expected small projectiles to suddenly burst from the familiar walls.
“From the lights?” Julian tried not to roll his eyes and failed. “You know, like sunglasses?”
Garak’s grimace seemed almost genuine, less carefully constructed than his usual facial expressions.
“Do Cardassians not wear sunglasses, then?”
“This Cardassian doesn’t,” Garak supplied unhelpfully. “I would think a man of science would know not to draw conclusions from such a small sample size.”
Julian decided to ignore the deflection towards the personal. He went back to being blunt. “Is there nothing I can do?”
To his surprise, Garak’s answering smile was more warm than coldly polite. “Short of dimming the lights on the entire station, there is nothing to be done,” he said plainly “but you’ve done quite enough for me already, Doctor. Thank you.”
“Well, I wouldn’t mind the station lights being dimmed a bit, myself,” Julian said sympathetically. He took a drink from his tea while he could, fully expecting Garak to nudge them back towards their much-overdue discussion of The Never Ending Sacrifice.
“I appreciate the second vote, my dear, but I think that’s hardly enough to change station policy,” Garak said, uncharacteristically wistful. “Though it would be a nice change, if only for a little while.”
Suddenly, Julian was reminded of being at the market with his mother. She had always insisted on real cooking over replicated meals and, as a child, Julian had gone with her to pick up ingredients at the same time every week. He remembered being comforted by the routine of it. Every Sunday at 14:00, just him and his mother.
Small enough to still be clutching at his mother’s skirt as she strolled through the market, Julian had assumed that, though regular as clockwork, the day and time of their weekly trip had been arbitrary. Later, he had learned that it was the same time the market dimmed their lights and cut down on as much noise as they could, so those with sensory sensitivities could visit in relative peace.
Despite all that had happened between him and his mother since, or how much better Julian had gotten at grinning and bearing the thousand tiny discomforts of life, he still thought back on those trips to the market with fondness. He remembered walking through the building, dim and pleasantly cool, his mother barely speaking over a murmur, so as not to disturb the careful peace inside. It was rare for him to think back on a memory of his childhood without any sort of bitter aftertaste, warmed as he felt by his mother’s clear consideration for him on those trips.
“Perhaps the station should have a low-light period during the day, for those who want it,” Julian considered aloud absently, mind still wandering the market.
“I am still the only Cardassian on this station, Doctor,” Garak reminded him “You know it’s hardly worth the effort to even propose such a thing.”
“You may be the only Cardassian,” Julian said, perking up as his mind returned fully to the conversation at hand “But there are plenty of others who would benefit from such a thing, regardless of species. You can’t be the only one on the station with light sensitivity.”
“I have a feeling I should dissuade you from whatever it is you’re planning now,” Garak hummed, rubbing at his temple “But I’m afraid I’m still a little tired from my last encounter with your... persistence.”
Julian could feel the smile creeping up his face, unbidden, feeling as if he had finally gotten the upper hand in one of their many lunch conversations. “Call it my professional pride, as a doctor.”
***
As much as Julian wanted to skip directly to Ops with his exciting new idea, he knew he needed to gather more information before proposing something so major. Garak was right about one thing – no matter how much Deep Space Nine had come to tolerate the Cardassian’s presence on the station, they wouldn’t be changing regular operations for him, alone. It didn’t matter how strongly Julian felt about it.
No, his next step was not to meet with the other senior staff. His next step would be to talk to Keiko.
As station CMO, Julian already had a good idea of what station residents might benefit from lower light levels every once in a while. Namely, Julian could think of a couple that were currently attending Keiko’s school.
There was Nobak – a young Bajoran boy who had injured one of his eyes during a skirmish at a refugee camp near the end of the occupation. He’d caught some shrapnel to the face and, while any outward signs of the wound had long healed by the time Julian had taken a look in the infirmary, the eye itself was still damaged. It wasn’t anything that Julian wasn’t able to fix. In fact, he’d offered to heal the damage at that first assessment, but his parents had declined further treatment.
Julian knew Bajorans had a complicated relationship with off-world medicine – even Federation medicine – at the best of times, and it wasn’t a tension he wanted to press too hard on, even as he privately disagreed. Since the injury wasn’t life-threatening or set to worsen at all, he’d let the matter be. It also helped that Nobak seemed pretty content when Julian spotted him on the Promenade sometimes, an eyepatch carefully shielding his injured eye from the harsh lights.
There was Amara as well, the daughter of one of the human ensigns. She was autistic and, while she generally preferred to speak very little, it wasn’t hard to figure out that the standard light levels irritated her. Julian was already in the habit of dimming the lights in the infirmary if he knew she was coming in for a check-up. If her wide grin upon her arrival at the infirmary was anything to go on, she appreciated the gesture. She even let Julian fill the dimmed room with his usual chatter, speaking enough for the both of them during her appointments.
Keiko, of course, was as enthusiastic about the idea as Julian had hoped she would be, immediately knowing which students he’d had in mind before he had even finished explaining his thought process.
“Nobak and Amara would love that!” Keiko beamed. She and Julian were sitting in the O’Brien’s living room, Keiko leaning into the conversation so enthusiastically, Julian was half-worried she’d fall off the edge of her couch cushion. “You can tell that being under the regular lights all day tires Amara out. I’m sure she’d love a chance to relax a bit, outside her quarters.”
“And Nobak’s a good kid,” she continued, “but you can tell he hates wearing that thing all the time. The fabric rubs up against the side of his nose ridges.” She scrunched her own nose a bit in sympathy, and Julian couldn’t help but smile. Her excitement was infectious, only adding to his own.
“Exactly!” Julian couldn’t stop the eager nod of his head, the involuntarily gesturing with his hands “And there must be plenty of other residents who would benefit, as well.” Julian’s eyes slid off to the side, finding it suddenly hard to maintain eye contact “In fact, it was Garak that got me thinking about this in the first place. Turns out Cardassians are bit more sensitive to light than most species on the station.”
Julian was relieved when the hum Keiko made in response sounded merely surprised by the information, rather than uncomfortable at the mention of Garak. He didn’t even know if Garak and Keiko had even met, but he knew most people were, at best, wary about Julian’s friendship with him just by reputation alone.
“That must be hard for him,” Keiko said sympathetically, “especially since he hasn’t been feeling well, right?”
“He’s been feeling much better,” Julian assured her “but I’m sure a little accommodation wouldn’t hurt.”
Garak’s suffering had been as private as the man himself was, but the whole station was likely aware of his very public seizure at the bar, on top of the very obvious CLOSED sign that hadn’t budged from Garak’s Clothiers for days on end. Julian wondered idly about what rumours were circulating about Garak’s recent absence. He wouldn’t be surprised if it has somehow morphed into a story about a failed attempt on Garak’s life by a rival spy.
Miles chose that moment to emerge from Molly’s bedroom, passing the two of them on the couch as he crossed the room. He laid an absent, yet affectionate hand on his wife’s shoulder as he passed, mumbling something about Molly wanting more colours as he continued to the replicator. It was then Julian noticed a smudge of green on the side of the Chief’s nose, probably from where he’d unthinkingly scratched at it with marker-stained hands. Julian bit his lip to hide a smile.
“So, what do you think?” Keiko asked casually, twisting her body on the couch to face her husband, not even pretending not to know that Miles could hear their conversation perfectly well from Molly’s room and had definitely been listening in.
“Well,” Miles said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly “It’s not a bad idea, I suppose.”
Keiko rolled her eyes affectionately. “Can you think of anyone else who might like something like this?”
“I dunno,” Miles started, but then he paused, evidently turning something over in his mind “Well, there’s one of my engineers on the night shift that hasn’t seemed too keen when I’ve tried to promote her to day shift. Always jumps at jobs in the darkest little corners.” Miles huffed a laugh, shaking his head slightly. “Yeah, she probably wouldn’t mind that one bit.”
“So you’ll help Julian propose this to Commander Sisko?”
Miles made a valiant effort at looking reluctant and put-upon for a few minutes before finally agreeing with a dismissive wave of his hand. He caught sight of Julian’s grin and narrowed his eyes at him.
“I’m doing this for you two, alright?” he insisted, looking between Julian and Keiko on the couch, before looking back at Julian “Not for that friend of yours.”
Julian made sure to put on his most annoying smile. “I’ll make sure to tell him it was all your idea. Maybe he’ll invite you along to one of our lunches.”
“God forbid,” Miles scoffed, though a smile tugged at the edges of his mouth as he finally collected the new set of markers from the replicator and headed back to Molly’s room.
***
Sisko wasn’t hard to persuade. Between his chief medical officer rambling easily about the public health benefits, to his chief engineer assuring him that it would be an easy feat to accomplish, he didn’t have many reservations.
“I’ll need to discuss it with the rest of the senior staff, first” Sisko reminded them, trying to temper Julian’s triumphant grin just a bit.
“Thank you, sir,” Julian replied, enthusiasm unaffected.
Instead of dismissing them right away, Sisko absently picked up the baseball on his desk. He rotated it carefully in his hands, pensive.
“When Jake was younger,” he said, not taking his eyes off the ball as he continued to turn it over in his hands “He didn’t like the bright lights on starships much, either.” He chuckled softly. “The lights are dimmer on the station, and he’s older now, but maybe this would do him some good, as well.”
Sisko returned the ball to its stand, and looked back up at Miles and Julian. “Thank you, gentlemen. Dismissed.”
***
In the end, it was actually harder to convince Sisko to leave Garak out of the station-wide announcement being sent out detailing the new sensory-friendly period, but ultimately Julian managed to secure that victory as well. It was, admittedly, a long shot keeping something so significant from someone as nosy as Garak, but Julian wanted to at least try to surprise him. The first one would already be taking place the same day as his usual lunch with Garak, all that was left was to push back their appointment a couple hours.
“I have a surgery scheduled during our usual lunch hour, I’m afraid,” Julian said, when he ducked into Garak’s shop that morning to break the ‘bad news’. He had to physically stop himself from saying more, rambling on about the details of this nonexistent surgery. Garak had once told him that the fewer details in a lie, the more believable it would be, as it gave you fewer opportunities to contradict yourself by accident.
Thinking about it now, though, Julian couldn’t help but think that it was more suspicious for him to end a thought at its natural conclusion, hastily adding “It’s brain surgery, so not something easy to move around. It’s fascinating, actually, I’ll be performing –”
“Ah,” Garak said, cutting him off before he could even begin to ramble himself into a corner. He smiled in that bland way he did that gave nothing away. “Perhaps another day, then?”
“Actually, if – if you wouldn’t mind,” Julian started, biting his lip “We could meet for a late lunch, instead. Say, 14:00? I was rather looking forward to our discussion on Agatha Christie.”
Garak narrowed his eyes, and Julian tried to fight back the urge to smile as he took the bait. He couldn’t, his mouth twisting into a grin. “Not a fan of Christie, I take it?”
“Oh, I bear the woman herself no ill will, I assure you, Doctor,” Garak said, though his smile was sharp enough to draw blood “But I can’t say the same for the dear friend of mine who compared her work to the enigma tales of Cardassia.”
“That must be either a very cruel or a very misinformed friend you have,” Julian responded, sensing victory “Perhaps you’d rather hear my thoughts about it, later today?”
Garak smiled indulgently, the way he did when he wanted Julian to know that he was letting him win. For now. “I would like nothing more. I’ll see you then, my dear.”
***
Julian hoped that Garak would arrive to their table at the replimat early, as he himself had. It didn’t really matter either way, but Julian selfishly wanted to see the reaction on Garak’s face as the lights dimmed, to watch as the spy quickly connected the dots to their last conversation.
It looked as if he had gotten his way.
“Hello, again, my dear,” came a familiar voice behind him, and Julian turned in his seat as Garak approached, lunch already in hand.
“Hello, Garak.” Julian knew his grin must’ve been just a little too smugly satisfied with his work because Garak paused, clearly suspicious of his motives.
Before he could come to any conclusions, however, they were interrupted by a cool, automated voice informing those on the Promenade that lights and sounds would be set to a lower setting for the next hour. On that cue, the lights did indeed dim, and a hush fell over the usual chatter of the station, as if an impossibly large blanket had suddenly been laid across the entire station.
Garak blinked a few times, eyes adjusting to the sudden absence of strain, before he finally matched Julian’s smile. It was easily the brightest thing in the now-dimmed room, despite the usual sly slant that coloured all of Garak’s smiles. “Well, you’ve certainly been very busy.”
“I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean,” Julian said lightly, finally popping one of the vegetables on his plate into his mouth as Garak sat down across from him. “I believe Keiko had something to do with it, something about her students.”
Their lunch was quieter today, but no less intimate for it. They both seemed keen to finish their food early, giving them time to explore the Promenade in the new light. Garak had even reined in his criticisms of Christie until only gentle teasing about the clearly violent imagination of humans remained. When they eventually stood and returned their dishes to the replicator, Julian surprised himself by hooking elbow with Garak’s. Maybe the dim light made him bolder. Garak didn’t move away and instead took the gesture in stride, tugging gently on Julian’s arm to guide him onto the Promenade.
The Promenade was quiet, yes, but no less alive as Julian and Garak strolled the familiar halls. The same amount of people were up and about, but the urgency that always seemed to exist on the station had faded. People walked more slowly from place to place, their footfalls quieter. People spoke in hushed tones, trusting that they would be heard.
Julian was excited to spot Keiko, leading her students through the Promenade, looking very much like a mother duck surrounded by ducklings. She pressed a finger to her lips every so often, a gentle reminder. Julian had no doubt Keiko had already given a thoughtful lesson in her classroom about the new policy and the importance of inclusion. Now her students were being given a much-needed field trip.
Nobak followed along quietly with the group, his usual eyepatch pulled down his face to rest on his collar like a necklace. He looked comfortable, peering curiously at his surroundings with a fresh perspective.
Amara, for her part, look far more than comfortable. She was flapping her hands excitedly, clearly glad to be able to take the time to explore the Promenade without becoming overwhelmed. She caught Julian’s eyes as Keiko’s group passed them in the opposite direction, and her hand flaps turned into enthusiastic waves as she recognized him in the dim light. Julian smiled at her, waving back with his free hand.
As Garak and Julian passed by Quark’s, still arm in arm, Julian began to appreciate how much he was enjoying this time, as well. That infernal light above the doorway to the bar, the one that strobed incessantly at all hours of the day, had finally been switched off, and Julian sighed in relief. He hadn’t realized how much it had bothered him. He hadn’t realized how much it had all been bothering him.
When you lived life as he did, constantly trying (and sometimes failing) to imitate something approaching a ‘normal’ human, it was easy to get used to small discomforts. The flashing lights at Quark’s, the bright lights of every Federation starship and station, the overwhelming noise of the Promenade – their sudden absence made Julian feel oddly weightless. The only discomfort that remained was the ever-present scratching of his uniform at the back of his neck, the fabric rubbing against sensitive skin. In the absence of everything else, the familiar annoyance felt almost grounding.
Before they left the bar behind them, Julian spared a look inside. As expected, the bar was nearly deserted, what with the dabo wheels being forced to still and the usual rowdiness discouraged for the time being. Quark was leaning against the bar without much to do besides refill Morn’s drink, looking appropriately sour at the interruption of his usual business. However, despite his expression Quark looked... relaxed, and Julian wondered if the calming atmosphere of the Promenade was truly that contagious, or if the Ferengi’s sensitive hearing was genuinely enjoying the reprieve as well.
“I can see why the Federation keeps the lights so bright,” Garak mused, his voice not rising above a low rumble “I had forgotten how many dark corners there could be. I would imagine the constable raised a fuss.”
Julian looked around and agreed. The oddly-shaped architecture cast equally strange shadows, leaving tiny pockets of darkness along the Promenade. It was easy to imagine this place in the days of Terok Nor, Bajoran revolutionaries tucked away in its shadowy corners, discussing their next move as far away from prying eyes as the station allowed. “Yes, it seems like a few new hiding places have opened up.”
As if on cue, Garak and Julian watched as Jake and Nog emerged from one such shadow, smiling and hurrying along in way that suggested that they were up to no good and had no plans to stop. Julian spared a thought for whatever poor soul was on the wrong end of their current misadventure.
“Well, they’re certainly taking advantage,” Julian commented with a smile.
“Perhaps we should as well, my dear.”
Before Julian could even process Garak’s tone, he found himself being tugged firmly in the direction of where Jake and Nog had just left. Once under the cover of darkness, Garak released himself from Julian’s hold on his arm, only to bring both his hands to the side of Julian’s face, cupping his jaw. Garak’s hands were rough with scales yet pleasantly cool, though they were already starting to warm from the contact with human skin.
And if their lips did meet in the privacy offered by the shadows, no one was any the wiser.