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The thing about being a lonely child is that the loneliness never really goes away. Julian knew he had friends that cared about him—in fact, he was having dinner with one of them right now. Jadzia sat across from him at the replimat, laughing at his jokes, telling her own, lamenting about a failed experiment she had been running that week. Later, he would meet Chief O’Brien at the holodecks to relive the Irish reunification of 2024. Maybe they would play darts and have a drink before the chief went home. Tomorrow, Julian and Garak would have lunch and debate the shortcomings of Cardassian versus human literature. Pride and Prejudice this time, as well as a collection of Cardassian poetry. People cared about him, and he cared about them.
And yet.
“Everything alright, Julian?” Jadzia asked.
“Huh?” Julian responded eloquently.
“Seems like I lost you for a second there. And that wasn’t the first time tonight. So, is there anything you want to talk about?”
Her hands were folded neatly on the table.
Julian hesitated, then sighed. Should he? “No, there’s just some medical research I’m doing that’s tripping me up. A tricky subject, and not enough information. I probably just need to sleep on it, but I can’t stop thinking about it. I feel like I’m teetering on the edge of a breakthrough, but I just can't fit the pieces together.”
“Oh, I’ve been there. It's the worst. Anything I can help with? Any dangerous and exciting experiments we could run?”
See, there was even proof that people cared about him. Jadzia was offering to help, and that was something that friends do. Julian definitely had friends. So why did it feel like he didn’t?
“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t think so. Maybe I’ll just have to make some new discoveries, fill in some information gaps.”
Jadzia’s eyes danced. “Sounds like you’re trying to keep all the glory to yourself. Trying to cut me out of a ground-breaking discovery, Julian?”
Julian laughed. “No, no, nothing like that. I would never try to keep you away from exciting scientific developments. As if I could. I’m just not sure what the next steps even are right now.”
“Fair enough. But do let me know if I can help later, okay?”
“I will. I promise.”
Julian found himself wandering around the promenade after Chief O’Brien had left the holodeck. The chief hadn’t been able to stay for a round of darts or a drink, but that’s okay. That doesn’t mean the chief doesn’t like Julian. In fact, it wasn’t about Julian at all. The chief was watching Molly tonight while Kieko prepped for another week of school lessons. The chief definitely didn’t hate Julian.
Julian was used to being alone, anyways. He was a lonely child before his parents had arranged the surgery. He was different from all the other children, so they tended to stay away from him. There wasn’t much direct bullying or insults. It was more about isolation. A sense that something about him was off. Like he was a holoprogram with messy programming. It could've been worse. It still didn't feel good.
Even after the surgery, Julian felt isolated. He could do math and read and write better, sure, but he still didn’t understand social interactions very well. He felt like everyone else had been handed a script, but someone had neglected to give him a copy. He figured out how to entertain himself well enough and cobbled together enough of a social script to get by, but it was still lonely. And it turns out that lonely never really goes away.
Having as many friends as he did was actually a pretty recent development. The sense of belonging, of fitting in, he first experienced it when he was stationed to Deep Space Nine. Sisko, Nerys, Jazdia, Miles, Garak. They warmed up to him. It's okay that it took time. But it didn’t always feel sincere, tangible. He lied to everyone for so long and about so much. All his friends only knew a facade. They liked the facade. Did they like him? Did they know him at all?
Or maybe everyone was pulling a really drawn-out and cruel prank on him. Maybe they spent time with him out of a sense of obligation. Maybe he was just a placeholder until some newer, better person came along that they all would rather spend time with.
Maybe he should adopt a cat or something. What was the station’s pet policy, anyways? He could probably ask Captain Sisko or Nerys.
Julian’s feet stopped in front of Garak’s shop. He hadn’t really meant to come here. But here he was, and the shop was still open. Julian drifted inside.
At the sound of Julian’s footsteps, Garak looked up from a pair of trousers he was hemming.
“Ah, hello Doctor! To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”
Julian managed a smile. “Oh, I was just in the area and thought I’d stop by.”
“If you’re trying to get an early opinion on that Jane Austen novel, I simply won’t tell you. I have a few chapters left to go before lunch tomorrow, and I don’t want to say anything about it until I’m done.”
“Fair enough. That wasn’t why I came by, anyways.”
“Well, my dear doctor, what ever can I do for you?”
“Do you ever feel like nobody really knows you?”
Julian didn’t know why he blurted it out. He certainly hadn’t planned on saying anything about his residual childhood loneliness. Usually, he was regretfully adept at folding up his old worries and tucking them behind a mask of utter self-confidence. Well, all that practice wasn't paying off now.
He felt his chest tense. Garak could use this against him somehow. He could be crueler about Julian's vulnerability than Jazdia would have been, if he had just been able to talk to her earlier. Or, worst of all, Garak could finally see past the facade, come face-to-face with Julian's real, authentic self, and not like what he saw. Julian didn't think he could bear it.
Garak cocked an eyebrow. “Why, of course I do, doctor. I don’t make a habit of sharing personal details with the people on this station.”
Julian huffed. “Of course. I should've known.”
"Besides, nobody is really that interested in getting to know a poor, simple tailor. We tailors don't have many exciting anecdotes to share, unless you want to hear about improperly-stored fabric shipments."
The tension in Julian's chest eased slightly, but he could feel heat starting to burn in his cheeks. Garak hadn't been cruel (though there were no guarantees against future blackmail). The playful dismissiveness had been a small mercy, and it was dreadfully embarrassing. He felt like he'd been pinned down and placed under a microscope. He should leave; he'd given too much away.
Julian turned to go, about to say his goodbyes, but stopped Garak said, “Doctor, are you feeling quite alright?”
He was really regretting saying anything now. The shame was eating at his stomach. If Garak was feeling straightforward enough to ask him a question like that, his mask was slipping far too much. “Yes, Garak, thanks. Just a long day. I think I’ll head back to my quarters and rest.”
Something flashed in Garak’s eyes, too quick for Julian to interpret, then he nodded and stood, laying down the trousers he was hemming on a nearby table. “I won’t hold you hostage here. Unless, of course, you’d like to join me for some tea in my quarters, or a drink? I think I’ve hemmed enough trousers today, and I would appreciate your excellent company.”
Julian hesitated, then nodded. Another kindness; he must be acting strange enough to cause worry. Garak wasn’t being subtle, but it was working anyways. “I think I would quite like that.”
Maybe he wouldn’t feel quite so lonely tonight. If he had to wonder if people really knew him, at least he could spend an evening with someone who could relate.
He had people who cared about him. He just wasn’t used to the feeling.