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He was alone. Utterly alone, trapped in the darkness. He thought he had experienced darkness before this, but nothing could have prepared him for the complete absence of light. Not just light to see by, but the light of hope. Julian wasn’t sure when he had stopped hoping for or believing in escape. He didn’t even know how long he had been in solitary confinement. There was no pattern that he could decipher, no rhythm to when his rations were brought or new guards appeared. He could have been in that box for one day or twenty.
He curled himself into a tighter ball on the floor of the cell, trying desperately to bring some warmth to his body. He felt as though the chill of the air had seeped through his entire being, laying a layer of frost over his mind and heart. When he had first been captured by the Dominion, he had soothed himself by retreating into his mind, replaying happy memories or conversations with friends. Remembering the first time he beat Miles at darts. The way Dax teased him over his awkward attempts at flirting. The way Garak tucked his napkin into the neck of his shirt when they had lunch together, the movements of his fingers quick and precise. Every time Garak had ever touched his shoulder, gripped his elbow, or (that one, most memorable time) held his hand. By now though, even the warmth of those memories could not melt the cold of despair which had settled over the doctor. He felt the numbness not only in his hands and feet, but in his soul. He no longer had the certainty that he would see any of his friends again, would never again feel that glow of belonging that he had finally found, so fleetingly, on DS9 after a lifetime of searching. He lay his head on the floor, tucked his legs up higher, and resigned himself to the loneliness of death.
A strip of light suddenly appeared, searing his eyes as the door to the cell slid open. As his eyes adjusted, Julian felt a brief thrill of hope–hope of a rescue, or at least of being brought out of solitary confinement at last. As his eyes adjusted to the light, the silhouette in the doorway started to take shape. It was familiar, a shape from long ago but one which he would never, could never forget.
As his most basic and primal brain registered who he was seeing, Julian realized he was no longer in the cell of the Dominion internment camp. Instead of lying curled on the floor, he was flat on his back on a biobed, bright, sterile lights all around him. He tried to move, to run, but the hiss of a hypospray in his neck immediately stopped him. He should have been rendered unconscious, but instead he was just paralysed. Unable to move or to speak, he was powerless to stop the team of so-called doctors and nurses. He watched, horrified, his screams echoing deafeningly around in his head but unable to leave his mouth, as they took blood samples, injected him with new DNA, remade him into the perfect human.
As it had in the cell, Julian’s powerlessness overtook him. He was alone. No one was there to help him. The people in his life who were meant to protect him had knowingly and willingly turned him over to this lab. He was alone, always had been alone, always would be alone–
“Julian, Julian” the voice permeated dimly through his consciousness. Someone was touching him, holding him. Julian lashed out. He would not be captured again. He would die first, he would–
The voice called out again, more firmly this time. “Julian. It’s me, Garak. You are in your quarters on DS9. You are having a nightmare. You are safe.”
Dimly, the name Garak sank into Julian’s consciousness. He knew that name. He struggled again, this time against the last vestiges of sleep, willing himself into wakefulness.
“Ga-Garak?” he said, pushing aside the blankets which had become tangled around him.
“It’s me,” he confirmed. “Good to have you back, Doctor.” He had a light tone, but Julian could detect the undercurrent of concern in his voice. Julian sat up and rubbed his hands over his face. When he opened his eyes again, Garak was also sitting up in their bed, offering Julian the glass of water from his bedside table. Julian took it and sipped gratefully. Even though it was just a dream, he imagined he could still taste both the staleness of the air in the Dominion cell and the antiseptic from the lab. He shuddered.
“I’m sorry Garak,” he said, returning the glass. “I was having a nightmare.”
“So I gathered.” Garak responded, laying a hand gently on Julian’s leg under the covers. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Julian paused, considered. “No, not really.” he answered. “Just…bad memories I suppose.”
Garak hummed in acknowledgement. “You certainly have your share of bad memories to choose from, my dear, unfortunately.”
Julian huffed a small breath of a laugh. “You would know” he replied. He knew that Garak was no stranger to nightmares, had held him while he shook with the memories that haunted him in the night. Between the two of them, it was a wonder they had as many nights of uninterrupted sleep as they did. No matter how safe you felt with another person, that wasn’t always enough to keep the fear at bay. And in fact, when your greatest fear was being alone and forgotten, having someone so close, someone who had, against all odds, made their home in your heart and your soul…well, sometimes that made the fear of loneliness all the sharper. Julian sighed, blinked back the tears which had unexpectedly sprung to his eyes at the sweet terror of knowing that what he had right now could be taken from him at any moment. “I don’t know that I can fall asleep again” he admitted to Garak.
“That’s alright,” Garak replied, lying back against the pillow and drawing Julian to him. “Just rest here with me.” His arm wrapped firmly around Julian’s shoulder. Instead of feeling trapped though, Julian felt…safe. He nestled his face into the juncture of Garak’s neck and shoulder, attempted to take even breaths, soothed by the familiar scent of his lover’s skin. He felt some of the tension leave his body as he relaxed into the embrace. Garak moved his other hand up to softly cup Julian’s head, cradling him against his body as though he were something fragile, precious. As though Julian were something to be cherished. Julian’s hand came up to hold Garak’s forearm, clinging to it so that Garak wouldn’t move away, grounding himself in the feeling of being held. He was not alone. Garak was there. The fear in the back of his mind tried to creep up again, reminding him that this was temporary. Garak could get tired of him, could die, could somehow be forgiven and allowed to return to Cardassia. He could be alone again, but this time knowing exactly what he was missing.
Garak’s thumb gently stroked the side of his face, and he pressed a soft kiss to the bridge of Julian’s nose, tasting salt from the tear that had escaped despite Julian’s best efforts to contain it. He whispered softly to him, reminding him that he was safe, that he was loved. He recited to him some of his favorite passages from the Never-Ending Sacrifice. He spoke of duty, of commitment–but this time, not to the State. His duty, his calling was to the man cradled in his arms. He did not have the hubris to think that being held by him was enough to banish Julian’s memories, his fears. But from experience he know that sometimes these burdens could ease slightly, just enough for you to find the strength to carry on, to find that sliver of light, of hope, if you allowed someone to hold them with you. He whispered this to Julian in the soft, quiet darkness of their room, as he listened to his breathing even out, approaching rest. He whispered to him his promise that, as long as he could, as long as Julian would allow him, they could hold their burdens together.
He felt Julian’s lips against his neck ridge in a soft kiss. “Together,” he whispered back, snuggling in tighter to Garak’s body. He let out a long exhale and his muscles relaxed further under Garak’s hands.
This time when Julian slept, he did not dream.