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There were weeks that Julian really had nothing better to do than sit around and wait for something to happen. Oh, there’s always work to be done: always more research to be done or an annual check-up to give or vaccine to administer, but there’s not always some exciting new vaccine or endless rounds of trauma patients to help. Julian’s very thankful for those calm weeks, especially as his time on the station grows longer and war looms ever larger.
For almost a month after he returned from the Internment Camp nothing particularly exciting happened at all. Or, nothing in his work. In his personal life, Julian was outed as an Augment and nearly kicked out of Starfleet, which was very stressful personally, but that’s all been said and done and nobody on the station seems to care very much at all. For the large part, people seem to have accepted it the same way that people have accepted Garak’s continued presence in their lives: with the sense that, while not ideal, there are much more important things to be worrying about.
Off the station, of course, his life is a bit of a mess. He’ll likely never get a promotion, half of his regular paper contributors never want to work with him again, and he’s regularly slandered in ‘Feed casts. But those are problems for Future Julian. For Present Julina, the calm before the storm was very nice indeed. Or, it was before last week.
It started small at first. The odd person from Quark’s with injuries from a bar fight came in at the beginning of the week. Julian treated them, warned them to watch their liquor, and sent them on their way. Then, there was the Replimat, where someone stabbed their lunch companion in the hand with a fork seemingly without provocation. Again, Julian didn’t think much of it. But both the number of incidents and the severity of the injuries began to rise, and always with no real reason as far as anyone can tell. Even Rom got hit: he attacked Quark! Actually attacked him! Those affected always claim to be filled with a sense of complete calm and certainty, rather than any sort of inescapable rage. There haven’t been any deaths, not yet, but Sisko and Odo believe that it’s only a matter of time, and Julian’s inclined to agree.
Usually, the investigation would be under Julian’s purview. He would take samples from anyone afflicted and find a way to prevent it, or at least fight it, but the Infirmary has been completely swamped due to the swell of injuries. When it rains it pours, or so they say. He takes the samples he can and has the Computer running analysis, but they simply haven’t had time.
Further, whatever is making people act out leaves just as soon as it arrives. Julian can’t tell any significant difference from their baseline. And it can’t be a new disease, either - it’s spreading through all species, even ones that have completely different immune systems. Just the other day Vilix’pran punched an engineer in the face, and Julian can’t think of a single infection that could affect them, a Bajoran, and a Ferengi.
The odd thing is there’s definitely some kind of pattern. Worf is, to date, the only Klingon that’s lashed out in any unusual manner. Vulcans seem to get it worse than anyone else. Julian can’t make heads or tails of it. Why would Vulcans be more susceptible than Klingons to a disease that makes people act on violence?
The most recent batch of injuries have finally been healed and nobody else has come in yet, so Julian’s got to make the most of the downtime he has, only he can’t find the connection. He’s not even sure that this is some sort of virus. There are far too many options that could cause a mess like this: Prophets, Dominion, Q, hell, even Quark could have bought some ridiculous piece of technology without realizing it.
The symptoms typically present first as extreme and sudden heat and sweating, followed by a dramatic decline in body temperature. From there, somewhere around ten minutes will pass until the next phase of symptoms, during which the afflicted’s heart rate will slow to a crawl. It’s at this point that the violence starts. Once the afflicted lashes out, they will return to normal with all the memories of the incident and no real answers for anyone.
The violence itself isn’t completely random either. Those affected only attack people they know. Some go after close friends and relatives, while others fight people they’ve spoken to only a few times, but one thing is certain: nobody goes for strangers.
Julian just wishes he could scan someone in the middle of it instead of at the end. If he could only get a few samples…
“Sir, you can’t just walk in there - sir!”
Julian looks up. Garak walks into his office, Alice Fratteny, a new nurse fresh from the Academy in hot pursuit.
“Ah, that’s alright, Nurse Fratteny.” He gives her a reassuring smile. She sends Garak one last glare and goes back outside. “How are you, Garak? Is everything alright?”
“Unfortunately, no, it isn’t. I was working in my shop when I began to feel as if I were overheating, followed by severe chills. Naturally, I grew concerned and decided to check myself in.”
Julian’s smile slips slightly as he sorts through the possibilities. They’ve done their best to suppress the specifics of the situation, but he doubts that a little thing like a low-security clearance would stop Garak from finding out what he wants to know. Garak despises the Infirmary and would never submit himself to it unless necessary. Garak may or may not be lying about his symptoms, but Julian believes that something must be wrong if he’s here.
“How long ago was this, exactly?”
“Five minutes ago.”
Julian ends up securing Garak to a biobed in his office. He uses the straps meant for Klingons just in case. He has Garak fully secured just as the little timer in his head counts down to zero - they’re really coming down to the wire.
“I really don’t think this is necessary,” Garak says, just like he’s been saying for the past four minutes and fifty five seconds. Julian’s not unsympathetic to his claustrophobia, but they’re about to have much bigger problems if Garak won’t stay down.
“Trust me, it is.”
Julian locks the door to his office and sends a message to the Infirmary staff, Sisko, and Odo letting them know about the situation. Sisko calls almost immediately.
“I’m not sure I like this plan, Doctor.”
“We need to get some scans of someone in the midst of one of these attacks. This may well be the best opportunity we have. And, frankly, I don’t see any reason to endanger anyone else.” Julian’s got it all worked out. If Garak is indeed consumed by these violent urges, then Julian will be the most obvious target. Anyone else might get in the way. Besides, Julian’s an Augment. He can take care of Garak if necessary. He thinks. He hopes.
“I understand your reasoning. I even agree with it. I just don’t like it. Odo will have station security on standby in case something goes wrong. I want to hear from you every five minutes exactly. If you go quiet, we go in. Do I make myself clear?”
“Crystal, sir.”
“Good. Sisko out.”
Julian scrubs a hand through his hair once Sisko cuts out. He whirls to face Garak, tricorder in hand.
“How are you feeling, Garak?”
Garak’s blinks are slow and languid. They remind Julian of a reptile sunning on a rock. Or an alligator resting on the surface of the water, waiting to strike.
“Normal. Very normal, in fact. Are you quite certain that all of this is necessary?”
“Yes, I am.”
Julian spends the next hour running every single test he can think of. There’s absolutely nothing in Garak's systems to indicate any kind of violent urges. In fact, if Julian didn’t know better, he’d say Garak just took something very nice: he’s filled with endorphins and serotonin. Calm, happy, and docile. He should be freaking out because he’s in the Infirmary or because he’s strapped down, but Garak’s complaints are minimal. He barely even seems to notice the hyposprays.
His hormones keep changing - keep rising. Julian’s current hypothesis is that since Garak can’t go out and do terrible things his hormone levels will continue to rise until either he acts or… until something else happens. With any luck, it’ll burn itself out eventually. Julian’s not feeling very lucky right now.
Worst comes to worst, Julian can balance out his neurotransmitters to more normal levels. He could even put Garak’s body in stasis until they figure this out. They have options. For now, though, it’s a waiting game.
Every hour on the hour Julian takes more tests. Except for the dopamine and serotonin nothing of substance changes. Garak’s behavior gets stranger by the minute, too. He barely speaks, which is incredibly unusual in and of itself. He seems more interested in tracking Julian’s movements than anything else, his usually sharp eyes dull and hazy behind those slow blinks. Some ancient mammalian instinct deep within Julian is screaming at him to get away from the predator as quickly as he can. Luckily, Julian’s had a lot of practice in ignoring his flight or fight response.
Almost five hours pass before Julian accepts that he’s got to let Garak eat. He can use IVs and Hyposprays for fluids and vitamins all he likes, but it’s no replacement for calories. Julian replicates some finger foods with a sigh. Getting his hands in biting range is not his best idea, but he clearly cannot just let Garak go.
Julian sits down next to the biobed. “Brought some food for you. I hope you feel like eating fruit because that’s what you’re getting.” It’s a test of sorts. Normally, Garak would complain just to be contrary.
Garak’s mouth quirks into a smile. “Fruit is just fine, my dear, thank you. Are you really sure I can’t -” his hand jerks beneath the straps. Julian chuckles nervously.
“I’m really sure. Here we go -” Julian spears a piece of jem’Uv with a fork and brings it to Garak’s mouth. He does that with every piece, one at a time. Garak doesn’t do anything in response except eat normally: he doesn’t try to get the fork or spit in Julian’s face or anything. It’s eerie is what it is. Julian doesn’t trust it as far as he can throw it.
Turns out he’s right not to. He’s reaching over Garak with the final piece of jem’Uv, hand poised over his mouth when it happens: the straps holding Garak’s arms down snap as one.
Julian gets three seconds to process, which means something very different for him than it would for almost anyone else. He can smell the scent of burned leather and plastic and see the glint of machinery as Garak stows it away - a laser spanner hidden in Garak’s clothes. He probably got it out while he was pretending to gesture with his hand, and Julian should not be feeling so fond of the cheeky bastard when it’s about to get him killed. Three seconds is also just enough time for Julian to realize that the Hypospray he’d intended to use to knock Garak out is all the way across the room.
And then Garak grabs him.
Julian has the use of his legs, which Garak does not, but Garak has the advantage of surprise and, clearly, forward planning. He almost wishes he could talk to Odo about what this means for the case: Garak still being himself enough to come up with this sort of scheme eliminates several options. Julian goes down like a deer on ice, flailing limbs and all.
Garak locks his arms around Julian’s middle while wiggling his way out of the rest of the straps. Julian can literally feel himself losing leverage with every passing second. Julian might be an Augment but that doesn’t make him all-powerful. Garak’s had years to hone his strength against bigger, stronger, deadlier opponents, and even if the fine blade of his skills has somewhat dulled over time, it wouldn’t take much to sharpen it. Julian, meanwhile, has only rarely been in a true physical altercation, and he’s never once used his full strength.
He’s going to die. He’s going to die right here in his own office and Garak’s going to be the one that kills him. It’s like a sick joke, like something from one of Garak’s depressing novels about never trusting anyone.
Garak makes his way out of the straps. Julian twists and wriggles and flails with the exact same desperation as a deer caught between the jaws of the crocodile and the exact same effectiveness. Which is to say, none.
Garak flips them entirely. Julian can’t even kick him anymore, not with the solid weight of Garak’s legs on top of his own. He’s got no options, no time, and no way out. He may as well die with some dignity.
“Garak, people remember things after, so I want you to know that I don’t blame you, alright? It’s not your fault.”
“Relax, my dear.” Garak’s smile is still that slow, soft one, like he was in a pleasant dream. “There are so many things… I’m not sure where to start.”
Julian’s going to have to lie here and listen to one of his closest friends decide exactly how to kill him. It’s absolutely, incredibly, ridiculously unfair. Life’s not fair, of course it isn’t. Julian’s been shown many times over the last few years the number of ways in which life isn’t fair. But this is a line yet uncrossed, a boundary he wasn’t even aware existed. It makes Julian want to howl with rage. How dare they do this to him? To Garak?
Garak trusts him perhaps more than he’s ever trusted anyone in his life. Julian doubts that he’s ever told anyone else the truth about Tain. Julian is certainly the only person who knows how badly Garak wants to be forgiven. And whatever this is is going to tear that all away from him, from the two of them, without a care. All that progress, all those hours and hours of lunches and holosuites and inside jokes just gone. Washed away by an uncaring universe.
Garak’s face is right in front of his own. Blue eyes meet brown. Garak feels so very cold. “Perhaps with a simple truth: I love you.” And then Garak’s kissing him.
Julian’s confusion lasts exactly .257 seconds, during which he processes the fact that every single thing he assumed about this virus was, evidently, wrong. Then, because despite his Augmentations he really is only Human, and Garak is both undeniably attractive and very on top of him, Julian kisses back for exactly 3 seconds.
It’s at this point Julian remembers that Garak is not in his right mind and forces them to separate. Garak barely seems to care - he starts nosing along the underside of Julian’s jaw while Julian pants for air and tries to find a way out. He last contacted the security team three and a half minutes ago, so they should be barging in soon enough whether Julian manages to extricate himself or not. Still, he’d rather they not find him in this exact position.
“Garak,” Julian tries.
“I think we know each other too well for last names, don’t we, my dear Julian?”
Julian has to close his eyes against the rush of fondness hearing his own name in that voice preceded by those words creates.
“Elim -”
“Much better.” Garak kisses his Adam’s Apple. Julian makes a highly embarrassing noise that doesn’t bear thinking about.
“Elim, I think we should talk about this. You know how much I love our chats.”
Garak sighs. “Very well. If it brings you joy, then you may talk, and I am more than happy to listen. Your voice sounds very different from this angle, you know. It’s fascinating.”
“That’s… very nice of you to say, Garak, uh, so, I’m just concerned, because you’ve never been interested in me before now -”
“Blatantly untrue, dearest.”
“Not interested as in not interested in romance, Gar- Elim.” Sometimes Human turns of phrase don’t quite translate. To be fair to Julian, he's not exactly thinking straight at the moment. Just because his mind knows that Garak isn't in the right headspace to consent doesn’t mean that his body’s on the same page.
“Also blatantly untrue. I’ll admit that my more romantic feelings were a later development, but I’ve wanted to court you since you returned my chocolates at the very latest.”
“Then why didn’t you?” Julian’s extremely curious to hear what rationale this disease has created.
“Hmmm… many reasons. Rejection was my main concern. You really were one of the only things I had to look forward to, my darling. I simply couldn’t take the risk.”
If Garak keeps switching up his nicknames Julian’s going to end up spontaneously combusting. He doesn’t care if that’s not technically medically possible, it’s going to happen.
“I wouldn’t have rejected you,” Julian says softly, which is probably a stupid thing to say even if it is true. Especially because it’s true. He clears his throat and refocuses. “So why aren’t you worried about that anymore?”
“... I’m just not, I suppose.”
Garak’s paranoia has ruined so many things. Let it work for him just this once. “And you’re not concerned about that?”
“Not particularly.”
“That doesn’t sound like you at all, Elim.”
Garak’s gone still against Julian’s throat. The cool tide of his breathing pushes on Julian’s chest, in and out, in and out. “No. It rather doesn’t, does it? But… perhaps I’m finally tired of having the things I want within reach and not even trying to take them.”
Thankfully it’s at this point that the security team bursts in. They stun Garak and manage to pull Julian out from under him with minimal embarrassment.
“Are you alright, sir?” A Lieutenant asks. “Did he hurt you?”
Yes . “No. He - I need to talk to Sisko and Odo. We’ve been thinking about this whole thing all wrong.”
“Just take me through this one more time, Doctor Bashir,” Sisko says.
“I believe that it’s about repressed - or even suppressed - desires. Those affected may not have even been aware that they wanted to do those things. This disease , if that is what this is, brings those desires to the forefront of the person’s mind until it becomes irresistible. That’s why they were flooded with serotonin and endorphins: it’s making them happy and relaxed, easier to manipulate. In Vino Veritas and all.”
“So you’re saying the attackers wanted to hurt their victims?” Odo leans forward in interest. Julian sweats. Odo’s been very upset about not being allowed to arrest anyone over this.
“No! Not at all. Or, not exactly. These are not desires that people would ever act on under their own power. Just because you’re angry at someone or even want to punch them in the face doesn’t mean that you’re going to. That’s why it didn’t affect Klingons as badly: most Klingons just do what they want. Vulcans, on the other hand, keep all their emotions locked away tightly, which is why more of them got hit. I’m not surprised that it got Garak. If I’m right… well, he’s very repressed.”
“How certain are you?” Sisko asks, tossing his baseball in the air.
He thinks of Garak. The thing I want is within reach and I cannot just take it . “Very certain, Captain. But now that we know what’s happening, we can fight it.”
In the end, it turns out to be Quark’s fault after all. He bought a crate of smuggled goods from the Alpha Quadrant, and in those crates rested a device that set off bursts that affected brain wave patterns at random, activated with increasing frequency. They destroy the device, and Julian gets a twisted pleasure out of watching Sisko phaser it. Odo takes Quark’s smuggled goods and Quark somehow manages to weasel out of an actual arrest: Julian really has no idea how he does that every time. And then it’s over. Crisis averted.
Garak disappears from the Infirmary before Julian gets back. Julian’s not going to pretend he’s not worried: every realistic option for how Garak will react to this ends poorly. He’s run the numbers. Statistically, Garak will pull away from their friendship entirely, which is just not on. There’s a chance that he’ll pretend nothing ever happened, which Julian doesn’t love but he could just about stand.
There’s also a very tiny, infinitesimally small possibility that Garak will finally own up to whatever their relationship is. It’s less than .01%. This means if Julian wants something to happen he’s just going to have to do it himself.
It’s not that he thinks he can’t get rejected. Just because Garak said the things he said and did the things he did doesn’t mean that he wants to be with Julian in reality. Julian even said it himself: Garak may well have been unaware or unwilling to acknowledge his own desires. Just because you want to punch someone doesn’t mean you’ll actually do it, and just because Garak wants to kiss him doesn’t mean he’s going to do it.
But Julian has a chance, and he’s pursued people based on less than that. At the end of his shift, he says, “Computer, locate Garak.”
“Garak is on Habitat Level H-3, chambers 901.”
He’s at home, then. Good. Julian would prefer to not do this in public.
If he were Garak he would do something completely unreasonable like break-in and watch him sleep. Julian’s not Garak, so instead, he requests to enter like a normal person.
The door swooshes open. Garak stands there, a charming smile on his face, all flash and no substance.
“Doctor Bashir! What an unexpected surprise. How can I help you?”
So they’re pretending. Alright. Julian can play that game if it gets him in the door. “Can I come in?”
“Certainly!” Garak sweeps him inside.
Julian’s been in Garak’s quarters before, but never when one of them wasn’t dying. They’re very nice. They’re warm, dark, and cozy. They’re not the sparse blandness of a man expecting to pick up and leave at any moment: there are knickknacks on the shelves, a throw cushion on the couch, and a soft rug beneath Julian’s feet. He supposes that if Garak ever does get recalled to Cardassia he’ll just leave behind all the things he’s picked up while here. It's a sad thought, even if Garak's exile ending is increasingly unlikely.
“Can I get you something to drink?”
“No, that’s alright. I was hoping to chat if you don’t mind.”
“Yes, I thought as much. I hope you’re willing to look past my… behavior. It was not, admittedly, my finest hour.”
Garak’s a bit like jazz. It’s all about what he doesn’t say. For example, he’s not saying that any of it was untrue. Julian is shocked back in time for a moment, you’re the only thing I have to look forward to rings through his head. Julian swallows down his nerves and forces himself to look Garak in the eyes, brown on blue
“Were they true? The… things that you said. Did you mean them, or was that just Quark’s little device?” He’ll give Garak the out if he wants it. That’ll be an answer in and of itself.
Garak seems to hesitate for a long time, even if the silence only lasts for fifty-three and a half seconds. “Perhaps both things are true,” is what he decides on. Hedging his bets.
“Everything is true?” Julian grins.
“Especially the lies, my dear doctor.” Garak smiles back. Hope flutters in Julian’s chest like butterflies.
“I meant it, you know. When I said I wouldn’t reject you. That was true.”
“Really, now?” Garak’s smile goes wide and lazy. He blinks slowly. A crocodile in the water, watching him back. It really is a good thing that Julian’s hindbrain has decided a little bit of danger is sexy and fun. “How convenient.”
“Yes, it rather is. I kissed you back, and I meant that, too.”
Garak walks towards him. Julian’s never once backed down from Garak and he’s not about to start now. Instead, he strides forwards. Their chests meet. Julian can feel Garak’s breathing, in and out, in and out, a calming tide. It’s glorious.
“If we’re being truthful… I meant all of it, my dear.”
Julian feels like his smile could power the station. “Call me Julian, please.” He trails his hand up Garak’s arm. He avoids the shoulders - that’s a bit too sexual for a second kiss. Julian’s happy to put out on the first date, of course, but this is important. He has to get it right.
“Oh, if you insist. Elim sounds very nice when you say it, dearest Julian.”
“Fair enough, Elim. Fair enough.” Julian leans in. Garak meets him halfway. Or perhaps it’s the other way around, and Garak’s the one that leans in while Julian meets him. He’s not sure it really matters. All that matters is Garak’s hand around his waist and his mouth a cool pressure on Julian’s. The looming war, the fact that they could all very well die tomorrow, Julian’s complete lack of future outside of this station: they’re all problems for Future Julian. Present Julian is very, very happy indeed.