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To Garak’s eternal shame, Kelas noticed first.
“Elim,” he murmured, from the doorway. “Julian is watching you.”
Garak startled, eyes flying up from the book in his lap, to meet Julian’s gaze. He looked…different. The muscles in his face were perhaps not quite so slack, an indefinable something behind his warm brown eyes.
“Julian?” Garak said, inching closer and placing his own hand over Julian’s. “Can you hear me, my dear?”
Julian didn’t respond, but Garak caught the motion of his fingers over Kukalaka’s fur, the slight parting of his lips. It was everything and yet nothing at all.
Gently, carefully, Garak clasped Julian’s hand in his own, searching his face for any sign of recognition.
“You must keep talking,” Kelas urged, though he did not come further into the room. As if afraid he might be intruding.
“My dear, you are on Cardassia,” Garak continued, a little awkwardly. “You are quite safe in my home. I have been reading to you from a new collection of enigma tales, though they are perhaps a bit too modern for your tastes. I recall you prefer your literature to be at least four hundred years old.”
Julian made a small sound. Garak dare not hope it was a laugh, but perhaps a small huff. Little more than a puff of air through the lips.
“Shall I read a little more, dearest?” Garak made to return to the book, but found his hand held so tightly that he could not escape even if he wished to.
Emboldened, Garak moved closer, lifting his other hand to cup Julian’s cheek, sweeping his thumb across his cheekbone. And Julian sighed - a definite sigh! - closing his eyes and leaning into the touch.
Garak looked over Julian’s shoulder to Kelas, who was smiling at the two of them fondly. What had he ever done to deserve these two men in his life? Oralius clearly favoured him in his later years.
Kelas mouthed to him, “Closer.”
Garak blinked at him. This was already far more physical contact that he had indulged in with Julian since…well, they had never been this intimate. Not in the Cardassian sense of intimacy.
But he would not be the obstacle to Julian’s progress. So, he leaned closer, perching on the edge of Julian’s bed so that he might sit alongside his chair. He guided Julian’s head towards his chest, bringing it to rest over his heart. While he knew that Julian’s physical injuries had all been healed long ago, he was still apprehensive about causing him discomfort, of breaking the fragile shadow of his dear friend.
Another sigh. Garak indulged in resting his head over Julian’s, just breathing with him, their hands still clasped together and his fingers moving to run through Julian’s hair on instinct.
Kelas watched as if he were proud of both of them, before nodding and departing the room. Leaving Garak to quietly panic by himself at this new development. Of course he wanted Julian to come back to them - he just didn’t want it to be at the expense of his dear friend’s dignity, at the cost of their friendship.
But Julian had always been a tactile person, Garak recalled. Perhaps he would not consider this such a great liberty. Perhaps he too would think it worth the reward.
“You are quite safe,” Garak repeated to him, as if his words alone could make it true.
# # #
As the resident pragmatist in the house, Garak asked Akret to find a comfortable sofa for Julian’s room. He was expecting one rather like the piece in his office, where it was scarcely big enough for two people, but she instead chose a large overstuffed thing in a fabric that Kelas would enjoy.
On return from his official duties, he found Kelas diligently checking Julian’s vital signs and reflexes. But as he entered the room and cleared his throat, both doctors looked at him.
And Julian smiled.
Garak clutched at the door frame, an unexpected weakness overtaking his body. Before Kelas could fuss, he made his way over to the sofa and sat beside Julian, taking up his hand and pressing it between both of his own.
“Oh, it’s good to see you, my dear,” he said, the words coloured by tears.
Julian swayed towards him, and Garak accepted him into his embrace.
“I have a theory,” Kelas said, reminding Garak of his presence. “I understand there is a concept in Human biology that skin-to-skin contact improves mental wellbeing.”
“With another Human?” Garak said, frowning. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so quick to chase away Katherine Pulaski, though the thought of her cuddling with Julian was…unpleasant.
“The reaction occurs within the individual, so I do not think the partner matters. There was even some research into Human-canine bonding through the mechanism.”
Garak looked at Kelas shrewdly. “Kelas, what exactly are you suggesting?”
Kelas gave him a flat look. “You didn’t reach this position without reading between the lines, Elim. Unless you want to find a volunteer–”
“Yes, thank you, Doctor Parmak,” Garak said waspishly. “I shall take it under advisement.”
Kelas merely smiled and left them alone, damn the man. His two favourite doctors really did have him wrapped around their little fingers.
# # #
While Garak had learned to admit when he was wrong (on the rare occasion such a thing occurred), he was allowed a little dissembling, surely.
Julian had regular physiotherapy to maintain his muscle tone and strength, including a quaint Human practice known as hydrotherapy. Garak had been more than willing to try anything and everything that might help Julian, so he had facilitated the regimen to the best of his ability, including maintaining and heating the pool for Human safety.
Which is why it was uncomfortably cool for him to join the session, but Garak was not going to be deterred by a little warm water.
He listened attentively to the physiotherapist and followed his directions carefully, touching Julian’s arms, legs, head, and torso exactly as directed. Neither hesitant nor lingering. Entirely as the professional required. As Julian needed.
Not to indulge Garak’s entirely irrational desire to run his hands over all that smooth skin on display or cradle Julian in his arms. Not when Julian barely recognised his existence.
Out of the water, Garak wrapped Julian in a large bathrobe and assisted in the transfer to the custom hoverchair. His reward was a lone finger catching a drip of water on his cheek and a dazed grin from his friend.
Garak swallowed past the lump in his throat. “We won’t tell Kelas just yet,” he told Julian, in a conspiratorial whisper. “He will be quite insufferable when he learns he was right.”
# # #
It was a very hot summer. And even though Julian’s room was perfectly climate controlled in the Federation standard range, perhaps he was a little warm in the heat.
Which is how Garak justified stripping them both down to their undergarments and encouraging Julian to sprawl over him on the sofa.
He told himself that this was a treatment regime advised by Doctor Parmak and seconded by the physiotherapist, a natural extension of Doctor Pulaski’s advice. Yet he worried that he was indulging more in what he wanted than what Julian needed for his recovery.
He would not lie to himself and claim he had never imagined such a scenario. But in his wildest fantasies, Julian was vital and willing, or sated and sleepy from their exertions together. Not this ghost of his dearest friend.
“Elim.”
Garak instinctively looked towards the door, expecting the amused but fond face of Kelas Parmak to be looking down on them. But the doorway was empty.
“Elim.”
He looked down and saw Julian watching him, his name murmured against Garak’s neck ridge, lighting up every nerve in Garak’s body simultaneously.
“My dear Julian,” Garak breathed, at a loss for further words.
Julian blinked up at him, as if waking from a nap and still half-asleep. “Where…?”
“The Castellan’s residence. On Cardassia Prime.”
His forehead creased with a frown. “Castellan?”
“My house,” Garak said, simply, though that wasn’t quite the truth with his beautiful garden in Coranum so neglected. “We’re safe here.”
Julian nodded, apparently satisfied with this, and settled back down, eyes closing and breathing slowing into sleep.
Garak blinked away the moisture in his eyes, the evidence of his sentiment. He had never hoped to hear Julian’s voice again - and the first word he had recalled was his intimate name, only used by his dearest of friends.
He could not wait to tell Kelas.
# # #
Garak loved his role as Castellan, even in the twilight of his political career, but he had never resented his duty to serve more.
“A tour of the provinces,” he repeated, flatly.
“You are the Castellan of the entire Union, not just Cardassia City,” Akret reminded him.
He hated that she was right. He didn’t want to leave Julian, not at such a critical point in his recovery, but his first loyalty was to Cardassia. Twas ever thus - and Julian had always known that. It didn’t make it any easier to serve.
“How long?” he asked.
Akret visibly braced herself. “Five weeks.”
Garak scowled, but did not try to barter. It would all have been meticulously planned to be as condensed as possible, with all the accommodation and security arrangements already provisionally in place.
He had been told about this about a month ago, he recalled, but he had been…distracted. Perhaps this tour was exactly what he needed to set his priorities in order.
Kelas, unsurprisingly, disagreed. “Can it not wait?”
“The duties of the Castellan–”
Kelas made a noise of derision, and Garak wisely decided not to continue that line of justification.
“You will take care of him?” he pleaded.
Kelas’ expression softened. “Of course. But I will not be reading The Never-Ending Sacrifice.”
“I am sure he will be grateful for that.
# # #
The newscasts were obviously delighted with the Castellan’s provincial appearances and, if they noticed he was less than his usual charming self, they politely did not mention it.
Kelas sent bland updates on the state of his plants, which Garak interpreted as a metaphor for Julian’s continued recovery. Slow to bloom, however, was a phrase that did strange things to Garak’s insides, and he hastily put down the PADD.
He arrived back at the residence late, bypassed his office and the mountain of work awaiting him, and went straight to Julian’s bedroom.
From which murmured voices echoed down the hall.
The old spy could not help but creep down the passageway to the bedroom, triggering the door as quietly as possible.
They were cuddling on the sofa, and neither of them looked the least sorry about it.
“Elim!” Julian said with warm delight, his face breaking into a broad smile. “Look at this!”
Kelas attempted to protest, but Julian was already up on his feet, holding his arms out like a gymnast on a high beam.
And then he wobbled, of course, laughing as he started to fall.
Garak moved to brace him on one side, just as Kelas did the same, so that he was sandwiched firmly between the both of them.
Julian threw a casual arm around Garak, still laughing. “Sorry, I almost have it, I promise.”
“He does not,” Kelas said, dryly.
Garak felt a slight pang of jealousy at their exchange. Clearly, Kelas and Julian were much closer after five weeks together. Weeks Garak had been away, enacting his devoted service to the state.
But he could not regret that closeness when Julian looked so much like himself, so vital and alive. Speaking in full sentences! Standing by himself - if only for brief seconds.
“Julian has never been good at recognising his limits,” Garak said, as a fond scold.
“Like you can talk,” Julian scoffed. “I understand you’re the leader of an empire now.”
Garak stilled. “You…understand?”
“Julian is having some trouble with his memory,” Kelas supplied quietly.
Garak paused to digest that. Of course they could not expect Julian’s brilliant mind to escape unscathed. For so long, they had thought– But that no longer mattered. They would learn to live with whatever came next.
“I see some things never change,” Julian observed, wryly.
“Oh, Elim has always had a great capacity for brooding,” Kelas said, lightly. “You should have seen him when he first returned to Cardassia.”
“He wrote an entire book about it,” Julian said, laughing. “And sent it to me, like a letter!”
Garak looked between the two of them. “I can see introducing the two of you will certainly keep my ego in check.”
Julian laughed again, then yawned and swayed between the two Cardassians. Working in silent unison, they manoeuvred him back onto the sofa, settling him carefully between them.
Where he promptly fell asleep, snoring softly against Garak’s shoulder.
Garak looked up at Kelas then, who was looking at Julian with a fond smile. Garak felt something strange in his chest, his stomach twisting as if he were a green junior probe on an unfamiliar mission. He was in uncharted territory now. He had given up on Julian ever recovering, and then he had dared to hope, savouring every inch of progress, but now…
Kelas looked at him, shook his head in amused exasperation, and held up his palm. Garak eagerly pressed them together, before parting his fingers to accept Kelas’ between his own.
“Sometimes, my dear Elim,” Kelas murmured, “one does not have to choose between one’s devotions.”
# # #
“What is Kelas to you?”
Garak tensed at the question, which Julian surely perceived, sprawled as he was across Garak’s body on the sofa. As soon as Kelas had shared his theory about skin-to-skin contact, Julian had been an enthusiastic participant in the therapeutic regime - which is why they were once more in their underwear, pressed against each other on the sofa.
Which was why a question like that was difficult to parse, with all that glorious smooth skin heating his scales.
“He is my partner,” Garak said simply, knowing it was foolish to expect that this statement would in some way deter Julian.
“But you are not enjoined?”
“We are not,” Garak continued in the same light tone. “Much of Cardassia is still very traditional. It is somewhat of an…open secret, our relationship, but the more conservative factions can see past an unofficial partnership in a way they could not ignore a formal enjoinment.”
“So that is the only reason you have not made the commitment.”
Garak could not read Julian’s tone at all. It seemed like a bland, almost professional interest, though Julian had never been known for a detached bedside manner.
“There are other reasons,” he said, with as much neutrality as possible. Another statement unlikely to lead to an ending of this conversation - why was he leaving himself so exposed? Unless he wanted the truth to be known between them, to see what truths he might gain in exchange. A dangerous gambit - the truth was rarely what was needed, after all.
“Such as?”
“Have you asked Kelas?” Garak said, finally changing tack. Perhaps he might divert Julian, though that could prove dangerous ground.
“Oh, yes,” Julian said mildly, causing Garak’s heart to leap in surprise, in expectation. “He told me you were in love with someone else.”
That interfering son-of-a-Gul. This was clearly his punishment for not having a clear conversation sooner.
Kelas had been remarkably patient with him, allowing him to bring Julian into their home without comment, going above and beyond to provide him with the best medical care, and now supporting Julian directly with his recovery. All the while knowing that he was in love with Julian Bashir and had been long before he had returned to Cardassia Prime and met Kelas again.
When Garak didn’t speak again, Julian levered himself up, resting on his folded arms on Garak’s chest, seeking his gaze. “Is it about Palandine?”
That would be an easy out, certainly. But it would be disrespectful to Palandine, Julian, and Kelas to perpetuate that particular lie.
“No, I have let go of the fantasy of that reunion,” he said, before daring to reach out and tuck Julian’s curling hair behind his ear.
He could do this. He could make a confession of the truth, even if it hurt him in the end.
“I have been in love with someone for, oh, almost two decades now. Someone…out of reach, who I felt unlikely to return such affections. It seemed better to allow them to live their own life, outside the orbit of mine.”
Julian frowned. “But if that person was so far out of reach, why would…and who…?”
Garak watched that brilliant mind working behind Julian’s eyes. Apart from the deficits in his autobiographical memory of the last ten years or so, all his cognitive testing showed that he was as impressive as he had ever been. Which meant he was surely going to figure this out at any moment.
Julian suddenly levelled him with a look. “There aren’t many people that could be, Garak.”
“No, indeed not.”
They looked at each other for a long moment. Garak became aware that Julian’s fingers were subtly drumming on his chest, not unpleasantly, and that his heart rate and breathing were perhaps a little elevated, his face flushed in that subtle way on Julian’s skin.
Abruptly, Julian pulled back, flailing for the sofa to haul himself upright and away from Garak. Immediately, Garak mourned the loss - of contact, of intimacy, of whatever this sudden withdrawal portended for their friendship.
“Julian, I–”
“You need to talk to Kelas,” Julian said, avoiding his eyes. “Then we can…talk. And then I will probably talk to Kelas, and after that, well…”
It was only then that Garak noticed how Julian was still flushed, evoking the awkward gangly youth he had first met on Deep Space Nine - the man Garak had first fallen in love with, against all his better judgement.
This was not a rejection. This was Julian placing some distance between them before they both tumbled into something without considering the consequences.
Julian Bashir had always been a far better man than Elim Garak, and Garak was once again grateful for that fact.
“I will talk to Kelas,” he promised. “I would not do anything to hurt him.”
“Good,” Julian said, quite fiercely. “Because I admire and respect him a great deal. We are friends, I hope, and I would do nothing to hurt him either. Even if…well, even if that meant extinguishing a torch I have carried for more than ten years.”
The idiom escaped Garak for a moment, before he was able to parse it, his mouth suddenly dry. A torch, indeed.
Julian was smiling at him now, unbelievably fond and…yes, he could see it now. That unmistakable light in those dark eyes. How had he never seen it before?
“Talk to Kelas,” Julian said, softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”
# # #
Kelas set down his novel with a decisive gesture. “Well, that certainly took you long enough. For intelligent men, you can both be rather dense at times.”
Garak blinked at him. “Is that all you have to say? Truly?”
Kelas signed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “Let me be frank for the both of us. I am not interested in giving you up, Elim, or stepping aside as some noble gesture for the star-crossed lovers.”
“That is the last thing I want,” Garak said, quickly and emphatically. He had placed himself at a distance from Kelas for this conversation, bracing himself for anger or disbelief at his audacity, but he recognised now that was a mistake.
Kelas needed his affection, his love, in this moment. He needed to understand the depth of Garak’s devotion to him.
So he moved closer, kneeling before Kelas in his armchair, reaching up to entwine their hands.
Kelas laughed. “Are you my supplicant now? You will ruin your knees.”
“I cannot imagine my life without you, nor would I wish to. I know that my…my affections for Julian have been an obstacle–”
“I am not jealous of Julian,” Kelas interjected, bluntly. “If it were not for the political implications, I would have courted you formally, properly. He is not the reason we are yet to be enjoined.”
Yet. Garak felt a little surge of warmth at that. Part of him longed for that courting, the sentimental vulnerable part that he preferred to keep hidden. But they were well past the point where that sort of thing made any sense - he knew Kelas Parmak as well as he knew himself, perhaps better.
So he took a chance.
“Outside of the Cardassian Union,” he ventured, carefully, “it is not unusual for a man to have more than one lover. Or, even, more than one spouse.”
Kelas gave him a withering look. “I am not quite so sheltered as you might believe, Elim. For example, there is an excellent holoseries about a Denobulan family that Julian and I watched while you were away.”
Garak was starting to gain the distinct impression of a conspiracy. For once, he did not mind.
# # #
Once he had finished his work day - a day in which Akret, Mehvet, and Lang had all noted his distracted state - Garak promptly left his official offices and headed for Julian’s room. He was not surprised to find Kelas there, nor to see them cuddled together on the sofa, both bent over a PADD in concentration.
But they looked up when he arrived, not moving apart, but clearly waiting to see what he might do next. It was both flattering and humbling to be the dedicated focus of two such men, and Garak was quite determined not to waste his opportunities.
He took his place beside Julian, who subtly shifted his weight to lean against Garak’s shoulder. Not away from Kelas, as such, but situating himself more equally between them.
“I think we might come to some arrangement,” he began, tentatively.
Julian’s lips twitched. He was clearly trying very hard not to laugh.
“An arrangement sounds very reasonable,” Kelas said, formally.
“I do not know why I thought introducing the two of you was a good idea,” Garak said, with a put-upon sigh.
Julian, clearly tired of waiting, reached for Garak and brought their foreheads together. Garak let out a small noise of contentment, his chufa pressed to that warm, smooth skin, Julian’s unique scent surrounding him - and Kelas’ too, from where they had been sat together.
“Is this all right?” Julian murmured.
“Perfectly,” Garak said, before pulling away with great reluctance. “But there is, ah, one small matter we must first discuss.”
Julian released him, moving back to his previous position. Garak saw that Kelas’ hand was still on Julian’s shoulder, had likely been there throughout their embrace.
But he needed to focus. This was important, after all - he had to do this right.
“Julian, dearest - how much memory have you lost?”
He was unsurprised when Julian glanced at Kelas, who gave him a little nod.
“About three or four weeks,” he admitted.
Garak’s breath caught. He had not been expecting such a great deception, but perhaps that was foolish of him. Julian had, after all, kept the secret of his genetic augmentations from him. But from Kelas…
“When Julian’s memories started returning,” Kelas said, quietly, as if worried they might be overheard, “we discussed the…implications. Ten years seemed the safest duration, for the official records.”
“So that Section 31 might consider you not worth pursuing for your knowledge,” Garak surmised, regretting the words when he saw the answering tension in Julian’s body.
“Something like that,” he said.
“But you did not see fit to share that with me,” Garak observed, gently.
Julian looked a little guilty. “I didn’t want to place you in a position where you had to lie officially. Starfleet Medical must have asked after me.”
They had, of course, and Garak had sent them a summary of the reports from Julian’s physicians. A slow recovery of his mobility, the absence of ten years of memories. They had not asked for more.
“My dear, surely you do not believe I need assistance in deceiving others. I am not as decrepit as all that.”
“But I didn’t want you to have to lie for me,” Julian insisted, eyes shining. “I wanted to..to protect you.”
Garak looked at Kelas, who slightly shrugged one shoulder. It seemed keeping this from Garak had not been Kelas’ idea at least, but he could understand his partner respecting Julian’s wishes in this.
“Julian, my dearest Julian, surely you realise that there is far more I would do for you than merely lie.”
Julian’s expression softened into a smile. “Like move me into your house and provide the finest medical care in the Alpha Quadrant, no expense spared.”
“Oh, much more than that, if you would let me.”
Garak daringly lifted Julian’s hand to his mouth and placed a kiss there in the Human tradition, raising that beautiful blush on Julian’s cheeks.
“But,” he continued, seizing his advantage in this negotiation, “I will need to know enough to protect us all. I cannot be kept in the dark about secrets that concern our safety.”
“I swear, Elim, I won’t keep a secret like that again,” Julian said, solemnly. “But I will keep lying to your doctors about it.”
“I expect nothing less,” Garak said, relieved. “As long as Kelas is monitoring things accurately for the sake of your health.”
“It’s certainly a psychological block,” Julian said, airily. “Kelas and I have reviewed the scans - there is no permanent structural damage. The memories may or may not return. I am not in any particular hurry to relive them.”
“The loss of a partner cannot be underestimated,” Kelas said, very softly.
“When I’m ready,” Julian replied, and Garak sensed this was the echo of a conversation oft-repeated.
Kelas reached for Julian’s hand, pressing their palms together and slightly parting his fingers, a gesture for intimate friends, one allowing that greater intimacy still might follow.
Garak was going to need to leave a substantial offering at the Hebetian shrine to celebrate his good fortune in this life, that which had brought him both these remarkable partners in his dance.
“What next, my dear doctors?” he asked.
Julian glanced at Kelas, a mischievous grin on his face. “Oh, we have a few ideas.”