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“I’m sorry,” Garak said, feeling rather as though his head had disconnected from his body, “I’m going to need you to explain again, very slowly.”
“It’s really nothing to worry about,” Julian replied blithely, injecting himself with a hypospray with one hand and gesturing to his medical assistant with the other. “I have appendicitis, which is the infection and inflammation of a vestigial organ in the human abdomen. Without either surgery or an intensive course of antibiotics, it would most likely burst within a few days and then cause my death from sepsis a few days after that, but the course of treatment is well established.”
Garak stared at him. Then he looked around, hoping vaguely that the temporary structure — barely more than a tent — they were standing in would suddenly transform into the state-of-the-art hospital that Kardassi’or had once boasted. It didn’t. “My dear. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, we are very low on both antibiotics and surgeons at the moment.”
“I know,” Julian said calmly, while palpating his own abdomen, “but what we do have are a lot of very capable medical students.”
“Medical students,” Garak repeated flatly. “You’re going to let children slice you open and remove a piece of your body? Have they even been studying human anatomy? What if they cut off the wrong piece?”
Julian, as though suddenly recognizing Garak’s growing alarm, paused what he was doing and blinked at him. The other staff in the room had vanished. “They aren’t children,” he said reasonably. “Most of them aren’t much younger than I was when I met you. And yes, some of them have been studying xeno-anatomy –– including human. But also, I’m going to be supervising the whole time.”
“And how, pray tell, do you plan to do that?”
“I’ll be awake.”
“Awake ––”
“Yes, awake. I’ll use a nerve blocker. It won’t affect me cognitively at all. I’ll be able to direct the whole procedure.”
Garak could only stare at him in disbelief, while cursing himself for ever having had the gall to lure this beautiful man to a planet that could not offer him even the most basic of medical care. “I’m not sure what part of this I object to the most,” he finally managed.
“I know it sounds mad, but it really isn’t,” Julian said. “Now, if you go wait in the waiting area, I’ll finish prepping myself for surgery, and I’ll have someone come get you when it’s all over.”
That was the final straw. Garak drew himself up and frowned at Julian. “No.”
Julian frowned back. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”
“I mean, no, I won’t wait in the waiting area until this is over. If you insist on doing this, then I’m staying with you.”
“I’m not insisting on anything,” Julian replied. “This is the only reasonable course of action, given our circumstances. But I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be present for the procedure.”
“I’m not squeamish.”
“You think that, but it’s different when it’s someone you care about. There’s a reason doctors don’t generally operate on their own family. Not to mention, I don’t want you frightening the students.”
“They should be frightened!” Garak snapped. “They’re cutting you open!” He covered his face with his hands, turning away. He drew three deep breaths, and tried to claw back some semblance of sanity. Finally, he turned back to face Julian. “I am sorry,” he said stiffly. “I recognize that this behavior is not... rational. But this has... taken me by surprise, and I am... concerned for you. Even if you don’t seem to be.” He stepped back toward the bed. “I haven’t even asked –– are you in pain?”
“I’m not,” Julian assured him. “I didn’t feel very well this morning, but once I figured out what was wrong, I took some painkillers and anti-nausea medication, and now I feel all right. I’m running a low-grade fever, but nothing too terrible. Come here.” He held his hand out, and Garak took it in his. Julian tugged lightly, and Garak let himself be pulled up towards the bed. “I’m sorry. It probably scared the hell out of you to get the message that I’d been admitted to the hospital.”
“It may have startled me,” Garak conceded. Julian squeezed his hand, then raised it to his lips and kissed the backs of his knuckles. “I would strongly prefer to stay with you.”
Julian hesitated. “What about a two-way communicator?” he suggested. “That way you can hear what’s happening and we can talk to each other, but you won’t actually see the surgery. Really, darling, I don’t think you want to see my internal organs on display.”
“That’s an acceptable compromise,” Garak said reluctantly. “And I would like to meet these... medical students.”
“Talented medical students,” Julian corrected him, “and we can definitely arrange that. But you have to promise me that you’ll be nice. It won’t help me if you intimidate them. I need them to have steady hands.”
Garak supposed he had a point. “Very well. I will be as un-intimidating as possible.”
That would be difficult, he realized upon reflection, because even if he smiled his most harmless customer service smile, he was still a known ex-Order agent and the current Minister of Culture, and his reputation rather preceded him. It was probably tempered somewhat by the stories Julian told about him at work, but from the looks on the face of the two young women (very young women) Julian introduced him to, they weren’t quite enough.
“My best and brightest,” Julian said, smiling at them. “Now, the procedure is quite simple.” He rolled down the top of his loose trousers, revealing his abdomen. “You’ll make an incision here,” he said, drawing a line on his own skin with a black pen, “and inside you’ll find the appendix, which is likely to be visibly inflamed, connected to the small intestine via the mesoappendix. You’ll tie off the appendicular artery and remove the appendix. We may need to drain some fluids through the incision. If there are signs of infection, which I don’t expect, we may also decide to flush out the abdomen with saline. It is a very simple procedure.”
“It sounds straightforward,” one of the students — Liana Torak, Garak recalled — said with a nervous glance at Garak. “And you’ll be awake to supervise the entire time?”
“That’s the plan. But I’m quite confident in your abilities. You’ve both done more complicated procedures than this recently.”
“But not on a human,” her compatriot Elka Nuvat pointed out — reasonably, in Garak’s opinion.
“True. The main difference, other than the anatomy, of course, is that it will take less pressure to make the incision, because my abdomen doesn’t have a layer of protective scaling.” Julian pulled the waistband of his pants back up. “Any questions?”
“Who is going to be performing the surgery?” Garak asked.
“I will be,” Torak said, lifting her chin. “Nuvat will assist along with the nurses.”
Garak frowned at her. “I hope I don’t need to tell you that Doctor Bashir is a great asset to Cardassian society, not to mention a Federation citizen. His life and well-being are of tantamount importance.”
“Not that one life is worth more than any other,” Julian interjected.
Garak managed not to roll his eyes. He ignored this piece of trite Federaji nonsense and watched Torak.
“Yes, Minister Garak,” she said, inclining her head.
“Good. You have Doctor Bashir’s confidence, and therefore my own.”
She relaxed just a little and gave him a slightly deeper, very respectful nod, before she and Nuvat left to prepare for the surgery. Once they were gone, Julian reached over and took Garak’s hand, giving it a squeeze. Garak looked at him with no small amount of exasperation, but Julian merely smiled.
“I’m a great asset to Cardassian society, am I?”
“I should know better than to say such things. It only inflates your ego.”
Julian didn’t rise to the bait. “And is that the only reason for your very touching concern, my dear minister? Or am I, perhaps, an ‘asset’ to your life as well?”
Garak wanted to glare at him but found that he could not. In fact, he feared that his expression was hopelessly and unacceptably fond as he rested his palm against Julian’s too-warm forehead. “You are, I fear, far more of my reason for existing than I wish to admit. I am not sure that makes you an asset, so much as it makes you necessary — like food or water or light or air.”
Julian’s smile had softened as he’d been speaking. “Sweet-talker,” he murmured. He reached up to cup Garak face in his hand, thumbing over one of his ocular ridges. “I’m going to be okay.”
“I shall be very angry with you if you are not,” Garak replied, and allowed Julian to pull him down into a kiss.
***
An hour later, Garak sat in a small exam room, empty at the moment, with a two-way communicator in his ear. “Can you hear me?” Julian asked through it.
“Yes,” Garak replied. “How are you feeling?”
“Numb, and my head hurts a little, but otherwise I’m all right. Thank you,” Julian added, clearly to someone on the other end. “Ugh,” he said quietly. “In addition to all the obvious reasons we knock people out for surgery, it’s also just... undignified. Someone just shaved parts of me that I would prefer only you ever see, and they weren’t especially gentle about it.”
Garak smiled despite himself. Julian sounded so disgruntled. “I’m sure your colleagues are very professional.”
“Oh, they are, but that doesn’t help as much as you’d think.” Julian sighed. “Ah, here’s Torak. Torak, say hello to Garak.”
“Hello, Minister Garak,” Garak heard faintly.
“Tell her hello,” Garak replied.
“He says hello,” Julian said, and from there the conversation became rather medical in nature as he reviewed the surgery with her one last time. Her colleague arrived as well, and someone gave Julian a hypo of something intended to relax him. Garak would have rather liked some of whatever that was, because he didn’t think he’d ever felt less relaxed in his life.
He should have refused Julian when he arrived on Cardassia a year ago, he thought grimly. He could be safe on DS9 right now, in a nice, sterile surgical suite, where he didn’t have to supervise his own surgery because his only colleagues were inexperienced medical students who didn’t have a clue what they were doing. Garak’s life would be much the poorer for it, but that seemed like a small price to pay for Julian’s health and well-being.
“All right,” Julian said abruptly, “I’m ready when you are. Remember, not as much pressure as you would use on a Cardassian –– but don’t be timid, either.”
Things fell silent on the other end. Garak held his breath.
“Good,” Julian said. “That’s good. Clean the blood away –– yes, perfect. Elongate the incision another two centimeters. Now visualize the abdomen. Start with the colon, then look for the appendix. It should be attached to it, almost like a tail. Yes, that’s it, there. Is there much fluid? What color is it?”
Garak was suddenly very glad that he wasn’t in there with Julian after all. Just picturing it was quite enough. There was a frankly alarming discussion about the fluid in Julian’s abdomen before it was concluded that there was most likely no infection, but they would still flush it with saline, just in case.
“All right, so now you need to staple off the mesoappendix before you remove the appendix itself. Carefully –– you don’t want to perforate the colon.”
More silence. Garak closed his eyes, trying to center himself.
“Good,” Julian said. “We’ve just removed the appendix,” he added, presumably for Garak’s benefit.
“Doctor Bashir, should there be bleeding?” he heard Torak ask nervously.
“Not much. Oh, that’s — that’s more than I would expect. It’s all right, get the vascular regenerator. One of the staples either popped out or wasn’t properly connected to begin with, or perhaps we’ve nicked the artery.”
Garak heard Torak swear, faintly but rather colorfully. “I don’t know. I can’t ––”
“Stay calm,” Julian said, but Garak could hear the strain in his voice. “It’s going to be all right. Just find the one that popped out.”
“I — I can’t —” Torak said, distressed. “I can’t visualize anything, there’s too much blood!”
“Nuvat, take Torak’s place,” Julian ordered. “Can you see what happened?”
“Yes, I — I can see it. Pass me the vascular regenerator.”
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line. Garak tried to get his lungs to work and couldn’t. It felt like all the air in them had turned to ice. This couldn’t be happening. Not now, not like this. Not after everything they’d been through, for Julian to die like this —
It could not have been more than three seconds, but it felt like an eternity. All Garak could see were the long years of his life, stretching out in front of him, and how desolate and lonely and bitter those years would be without Julian beside him.
“I think I’ve got it — yes, it’s stopping. It’s stopping.”
Garak managed to expel one breath and drag in the next.
“You’re going to flush the abdomen with saline now, and then close up using the dermal regenerator,” Julian said. “I might pass out, but that’s normal. Make sure you don’t leave anything behind, and then treat me for moderate blood loss — fluids, electrolytes, iron. I shouldn’t need a transfusion, but if I do, there are two pints of my blood in the stasis unit. Okay?”
“Yes, Doctor Bashir,” came an unsteady chorus.
“You get that, Garak?” Julian asked quietly.
“I did,” Garak managed.
“Good.” Julian’s breath hitched subtly, and his next sentence was much less firm and rather more wobbly. Garak suspected he was still conscious by sheer force of will. “I’m all right. See you in a little while, okay?”
“I’ll be there as soon as they let me in,” Garak promised. Julian didn’t respond, but Garak could hear the medical students and the nurses speaking to each other in reassuringly calm tones. He let the sounds wash over him without taking in any of the content of what they were saying. No one seemed distressed aside from Torak, whose voice was audibly strained. But her distress was, for the moment, not Garak’s problem. Julian would probably insist on making it his own once he woke.
Eventually, Julian was taken out of surgery. Someone must have removed the two-way communicator from his ear, because there was a quiet beep and the device in Garak’s own ear went silent. He took it out and held it in his hand as he waited for someone to come and fetch him.
He felt slightly disconnected from his body. Dissociation, Julian had called the feeling in the past. A common trauma response. Silly, for him to be traumatized by this, when it was Julian whose stomach had been sliced open, and Julian who had watched himself start to bleed out. There was no reason at all for Garak to feel as though he had been the one lying on the operating table with his guts exposed. No reason, except perhaps for the obvious one.
In moments like these, Garak was quite certain he would hate Julian, if only he didn’t love him so much that there was no space left in him for anything else.
“Minister Garak?” someone said quietly. He glanced up and saw a nurse standing in the doorway. “We’ve moved Doctor Bashir to a private room. You’re welcome to wait there for him to wake.”
“Thank you,” Garak said, standing. “How is he doing?”
“He’s stable,” the nurse said as she led him out of one temporary structure and toward another. “There was some bleeding during the procedure, as I’m sure you heard, but there was no infection that we saw. He will need some fluid replacement, but we don’t believe a transfusion will be necessary. We do, however, want to keep him through tomorrow to make sure there isn’t any further bleeding.”
“He’ll probably argue with you about that, but I am grateful for your caution. I’ve heard it said that doctors make terrible patients.”
“That is certainly my experience,” she said, smiling sympathetically at him. She opened the door to Julian’s room. “I’ll be back in a little while. Let me know if you need anything in the meantime.”
“Thank you,” Garak said. He waited until the nurse had left before sinking down into the chair beside the bed. He put his hand over Julian’s and squeezed it lightly.
Julian, to his surprise, stirred. “Hey,” he mumbled, opening his eyes.
“Hello, my dear,” Garak said, allowing all the affection he felt for him to color his voice. “I thought you would be out a bit longer.”
“I’ve been awake for a few minutes,” Julian said, shifting carefully, “but I didn’t feel up to talking to anyone just yet.”
“How are you feeling?”
“All right, considering. Tired from having lost about a half a liter or so of blood. A little sore, now that the nerve-blocker is wearing off.”
“That was not quite the ‘very simple procedure’ that you promised me.”
“I know. Sorry.” Julian looked somewhat sheepish. “It didn’t occur to me until we were in the middle of it that if something did happen, you were going to have a front-row seat.” He pressed Garak’s knuckles to his lips, then nuzzled his hand against his cheek. “I don’t want to stay overnight.”
“I know. But you’re going to.”
“Yes, I know.” Julian sighed. “I’d recommend it, too, if someone had started bleeding internally during the procedure. I just prefer being at home with you.”
“I prefer you being alive.”
Julian smiled at him wearily. “Come here, love.” He tugged at Garak until he leaned over and rested his head on Julian’s chest. His hand rested on top of Garak’s head, long fingers playing idly with his hair. Garak closed his eyes and lost himself in the steady rhythm of Julian’s heartbeat.
“There is nowhere else I want to be,” Julian murmured after a time, “than here with you. Even when it’s dangerous or hostile. I’d rather be here with you than anywhere else in the universe. Because with you, I know what it is to be home.”
To his shame, Garak could not prevent the small, wounded sound in the back of his throat.
“Look at me,” Julian said. Reluctantly, Garak raised his head. Julian cupped his face in his hands and kissed him. “I love you.”
“I was... frightened,” Garak admitted softly.
“I know. Me too, a little. But I knew my students could do it. Speaking of which,” Julian’s smile turned wry, “they’ve been hovering outside my door for the past ten minutes, waiting for us to stop being unbearably sentimental with each other.”
“Oh great Hebitian gods,” Garak groaned, sitting up. “My reputation will never recover.”
Julian chuckled, then groaned, hand stealing to his abdomen. “Ow. Remind me not to laugh again. Can you let them in?”
Garak grumbled but went and opened the door for the medical students lurking just outside. Nuvat led the way in with a PADD in her hands. Torak followed and avoided looking at either Garak or Julian.
“How are you feeling, Doctor Bashir?” Nuvat asked.
“Very well, thank you,” Julian said. “Nice work in there.”
She inclined her head. “Has someone already gone over your post-operative care?”
“Not yet,” Julian said. “Let’s hear it.”
“We would like to keep you overnight, because of the complication during surgery,” she began, a little stiffly. “If there are no further complications, you’ll be released tomorrow. But you’ll need someone at home with you for several days, to help you so that you can avoid moving around too much. We sealed the incision with a dermal regenerator, but internally, you are still healing.”
Julian nodded. “I’m in a little pain, currently. Could I have something for that?”
Nuvat nodded and immediately produced a hypo from the pocket of her coat, which she injected into Julian’s IV line. “This is 5 cc's of triptacederine. We’ll send you home with a hypo loaded with enough doses for you to take at night for a few days.”
“That sounds fine. When can I return to work?”
“Oh.” Here, Nuvat faltered. “I don’t know how fast humans typically heal.”
“Up to a week for this procedure under these conditions,” Torak piped up quietly. “But Doctor Bashir has some degree of enhanced healing from his augmentations, so it will likely be only five days. He should return for an examination, after which he may be cleared to return to work.”
“Five days seems excessive to me,” Julian said, and even Garak was not certain whether it was a true objection or whether he was testing his students. “I think three will be sufficient.”
Torak narrowed her eyes. “Five days. And I’m quite certain Minister Garak will agree with me.”
“Minister Garak does,” Garak said.
“Very well,” Julian sighed. “In the meantime, did we hear from Doctor Parmak? Will he be able to fill in for me?”
Nuvat nodded. “Yes, he’s on his way.”
“Good. Have him come see me when he gets here.”
“If you’re awake,” Nuvat said.
Julian smiled wryly. “Yes, fine. If I’m awake.”
“Wait a moment,” Garak said. “My dear, you didn’t mention that Parmak was coming. Could the surgery not have waited until he arrived?”
Julian shook his head. “Time is of the essence with appendicitis. The longer treatment is delayed, the more likely that the appendix will rupture and the infection will spread. Besides, I knew Torak and Nuvat could handle it.”
Garak kept his mouth firmly shut on everything he would have liked to say. He thought it less likely that a few hours would have made all that much difference and more that Julian had decided the teaching opportunity was too good to pass up.
That was a discussion they would be having later, once Julian was at full strength and could really shout back at him about it. Garak didn’t have any hope that he would win, but he’d make his point. Perhaps Julian would think twice next time before endangering himself for the sake of his students’ education, though Garak certainly wouldn’t hold his breath.
“I think that’s all for the time being, Nuvat,” Julian was saying. “Ah, Torak? A moment?”
Nuvat left with a single glance in Torak’s direction. Torak came to stand in front of Julian. She shot Garak a nervous glance, and he schooled his face to blankness.
“Mistakes happen,” Julian said to her. “I’ve made them myself.”
“Not in surgery,” she replied, averting her eyes.
“Yes, even in surgery. If we were working under better conditions, you’d be able to re-do the procedure using a hologram. We don’t have access to that sort of training, but we will discuss it in more detail once I return. But not as a punishment. It’s important to learn from our mistakes.”
She nodded once, shortly.
“The thing I want you to remember, between now and then,” Julian went on softly, “is that this doesn’t mean that you’re not a promising doctor or surgeon. But if you let it make you too cautious, if it prevents you from making decisions in the moment or approaching a procedure or a patient with confidence, then it will start to affect your ability to do your job. I’ll speak to Doctor Parmak so that he’s aware. But you need to be aware, too. All right?”
She nodded again. “I am... very sorry. I should have ––”
Julian held his hand up. “Later. When I’m back at work and you’ve had some time.”
She nodded. “Thank you, Doctor Bashir. Minister,” she added politely, and then turned and left.
Julian sagged subtly, lines of exhaustion suddenly quite visible on his face. Garak fluffed the pillows around him, making sure he was well supported, and offered him water from a pitcher on the bedside table. Julian took a few sips but shook his head at the suggestion of anything more. “Not yet. I think I need to sleep for a few hours. Perhaps when I wake up.”
“I could go home while you’re resting,” Garak offered, stroking his hair back from his forehead with his palm, “and bring you back something from the O’Brien family’s most recent care package.”
“Oh, that sounds marvelous,” Julian said, eyes drifting closed. “I think they included a few different kinds of dehydrated soup. Any of them would be fine. But don’t feel like you have to come straight back here. You can go to your office for a few hours, if you need to.”
“I should check in with my staff, but I think they can function without me for a few hours. Or a few days.”
For a moment, Julian appeared to be thinking about arguing. But then he smiled and nodded. “If you’re sure. I promise I can look after myself if you need to go in.”
“I have no doubt, but I’d prefer you not have to.” Garak pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Get some rest, my dear. I’ll be back in a few hours with your soup.”
“Thank you,” Julian murmured, already sounding very drowsy. Garak stroked his hair a few more times, until his breathing deepened, and he judged him truly asleep — aided, no doubt, by the triptacederine Nuvat had given him. Only then did he gather himself to leave.
He was exiting the hospital through the main doors when he heard someone call his name. He turned to see Torak hurrying toward him, her face set in both determination and apprehension. “Minister Garak. I just — I wanted to say — that is, I hope —“
Garak held his hand up and she fell silent. “You have nothing to fear from me, my dear. You never did.”
She swallowed. “My aunt was a — a dissident. I heard stories about you.”
Garak nodded. “There were many stories about me. Some of them are true. But that is not who I am anymore. It’s not who Cardassia is anymore. Even if something dreadful had happened, any consequences to you would not have come from me. But Doctor Bashir is fine, so there is no need to torment ourselves with what might have been.”
“It was a close call.”
“Not his closest, I assure you.” She didn’t look reassured. Garak decided to take a different approach. “Learn from the experience. Allow it to make you a better physician and a better servant of our people. That is all that I or Doctor Bashir can ask of you, and all that you can ask of yourself.”
“But —”
“My dear,” Garak said firmly, “I hope you don’t mind if I ask you to direct your professional crisis about this to someone else — Doctor Parmak, perhaps? I’m sure he will be glad to counsel you, as will Doctor Bashir once he is back on his feet.”
“Yes, of course,” she said, looking rather mortified. “I’m so sorry.” She shook herself and stood a little straighter. “Please let me know if you have any questions about Doctor Bashir’s care.”
“I will, thank you,” Garak replied, and finally made his escape into the fresh — if rather dusty — air of evening in Kardassi’or.
It was just as he had told Torak: there was no need — no reason — to torment themselves with what-if’s or might-have-been’s. But it was easier said than done. This was a memory that Torak would return to frequently, he was certain. It would either make her a better physician or it would break her confidence altogether.
Garak knew that he would return to it as well. The sharpness of Cardassian memory — in his case, honed by years of training — meant that the moment he thought he might lose Julian would always exist alongside the moment he realized he wouldn’t. Like Torak, he had a choice: He could allow it to rule him, poisoning his relationship with Julian with guilt and fear — or he could let it serve as a reminder of just how unfairly fortunate he was and how he must never take any of it for granted.
He would try to take his own advice, then. He would try and let this make him into a better husband, and through that, a better servant of his people. For years now, after all, his love for Julian had molded him and helped him see new ways, better ways, to be the man his people needed him to be, rather than the one Tain had wanted him to be. He could do it. He would do it.
And he would start by bringing Julian some soup.
Fin.