Work Text:
Day 1
‘I have to say, Garak, I was surprised when you told me you were going to live in Paris for a few years.’ As he spoke, Julian Bashir marched right past the Mona Lisa and into the next room, where a collection of paintings by French masters was on display. On their way from the transporter hub to the Louvre, he had made it perfectly clear that he thought it was overrated and that he refused to fight his way through a huge crowd just to catch a glimpse of a mediocre painting. Garak, who until now was not too impressed by much of Earth’s art, didn’t protest. He walked right behind the doctor and had to admit that he felt a sense of relief upon entering the relative calm of the next room.
‘How so, my dear doctor?’
‘You’ve spent so much time wanting to go back to Cardassia. And here you are, voluntarily leaving your beloved homeland for Earth, of all places.’
Garak positioned himself in front of a large painting showing a woman carrying the French flag, leading a group of people over a pile of bodies. It looked familiar - he was sure he’d seen it in his preparatory studies of Paris. Something about one of the revolutions, though not the most well-known French one. He clasped his hands behind his back and leaned forward a little, studying it in more detail. ‘Well, I always do what I think is best for Cardassia. While I may not always see eye to eye with your precious Federation, I do think that a good relationship with you is in Cardassia’s benefit.’
‘Well, we are honored you deem us worthy.’ Julian joined him and read the plaque next to the painting, even though Garak was certain he already knew the text on it by heart. ‘I also assume it feels different if you know you will return in a few years.’
‘Indeed. And it allowed us to meet during your shore leave, which I would say is a pleasant bonus.’
When Garak had informed Julian that he would be moving to Earth three months ago, the doctor had enthusiastically replied that he, too, would be on Earth soon to visit some friends. If they planned correctly, he could spare three days to come visit Garak in Paris. The prospect had sent a rush of euphoria through Garak, almost as powerful as the first hit of the wire back in the day. He had informed the Cardassian government that no matter what, these three days would have to be free of appointments, even if it took him a few favors and a lot of frustrated officials to get that arranged.
‘That is true.’ The good doctor looked at him and his dark eyes softened. That meant nothing, Garak told himself, just that he was happy to see his friend. It melted his heart all the same. ‘I’m very much looking forward to seeing Paris with you. It’s been a long time since I was here.’
‘Ah, yes. Your former paramour was from here, right?’ Garak’s blue eyes started to sparkle mischievously. ‘Does she live here?’
‘You mean Palis? I assume so. I haven’t spoken to her in ages.’
‘Do you think we might run into her?’ Garak needled. It had been so long since he’d gotten a proper reaction to any of his teasing. Kelas never took any of his bait, and while Garak admired that, it wasn’t a lot of fun. Julian’s expressiveness, Garak was reminded as the doctor shot him an irritated look, was easily one of his best qualities.
‘I hope not. I don’t even know if she still lives here.’ The irritation in his eyes made place for a playful sparkle. ‘But even if we do run into her, it’ll be fine. I’m here with the first Cardassian ambassador ever. I’ve won.’
‘I wasn’t aware that you two were in a competition.’
‘It’s not… it’s just a manner of speech.’ Julian let out an exasperated sigh as Garak smiled innocently at him. ‘Never mind. Enough talk about my exes. We are at the Louvre and we will make the most of it. You said this was your first time being here, correct?’
‘It is. I’m afraid most of my time here has been filled with work. I have yet to do much in the way of sightseeing.’
‘Well, then, give me your first impression. How much do you hate the greatest art works in human history compared to those of Cardassia?’
‘Hmm.’ Garak pursed his lips. ‘I am not too fond of most of the Renaissance and Baroque art that we’ve seen so far. It’s too soft for my tastes. Gentle lighting and a lot of round shapes, whereas Cardassians prefer the opposite.’ He gestured at the painting in front of him. ‘Although I must say, I do like some of the Revolution-themed French art. I very much applaud them for their willingness to sacrifice themselves for the good of their country.’
Julian laughed. Garak had almost forgotten the sound during the past three years, and hearing it once more after all this time sent a pleasant sensation down his spine. ‘I did not expect that. I assumed that you’d be abhorred by the idea of rebelling against the government. Maybe you should read Les Misérables again. You might have a new appreciation for it.’
‘I said that I appreciated their willingness to sacrifice themselves for the good of their country, not that I want to read through an extensive history of the Paris sewer system again,’ Garak clarified. ‘But even if I did, I highly doubt it. I simply think their dedication is admirable. I don’t necessarily condone their rebellion, however. Our government and our country itself are deeply intertwined. Questioning one means questioning the other, and that is simply not something we should do.’
‘Is that the general sentiment, or is that mostly your sentiment? We have met some Cardassians who felt differently, and in a broader context I assume your country must have had some revolutions and regime changes throughout its history.’
‘Oh, don’t misunderstand, we’ve had our fair share of rebellions, both bloody and bloodless,’ Garak said, purposefully ignoring the first question. ‘But we consider those the necessary evils that they are, and we definitely do not have books glorifying them.’
Julian protested and started listing reasons why the book was more nuanced than that, which eventually unraveled in a discussion about the ethics of protesting the state. Garak participated enthusiastically, and Julian’s eyes lit up with every quip that was exchanged between them. Garak found himself observing the doctor’s lips every time he fell silent to think about what to say next. He wondered what it would feel like to meet those lips with his own.
Garak knew Julian Bashir was dangerous territory. He had always been. Back when returning to Cardassia was still impossible, the doctor had been the center of Garak’s universe, the most blindingly bright star in the pitch black sky that was Deep Space Nine. He was beautiful and far out of Garak’s reach, only to be admired, never to be touched. Garak always told himself that was for the best - the rush that he felt around Julian Bashir was so strong that he was half convinced he’d go mad if the doctor had ever shown any sign of reciprocation. It had been its own form of wonderful torture.
But a few months after Garak had gone back to Cardassia, things had slowly started to shift. If Julian Bashir had been the brightest star in Garak’s night sky, then Cardassia was his sun. And as dawn broke on his world once more, the fantasies of the night made place for the practicalities of day - rebuilding his homeland, his friendship with Kelas Parmak, his political career. Eventually he could pretend the doctor didn’t exist during the day. He would only appear at night, in one of Garak’s many sentimental fantasies in the time between going to bed and falling asleep. And to Garak that was fine, even if those minutes were filled with a deep, aching loneliness.
The moment he’d seen Julian, his Julian, come out of the transporter room at the Paris transporter hub, Garak could feel himself drift back towards the doctor. He wanted desperately to return to his orbit, even if he knew it would be best to not entertain those feelings. But as he listened to the doctor contemplating the ethics of the Bell Riots, his voice the most beautiful sound Garak had ever heard, he didn’t know how well he would be able to keep his distance.
I’ve missed you so much, he thought, a warm ball of fondness building in his chest until he felt he would burst. I’ve missed you more than life itself.
*****
Day 2
On the second day of Julian’s visit, they visited a collection of botanical gardens - Garak’s choice, of course. It was easy to forget considering how much Julian Bashir liked to talk, but under the right circumstances he could be a good listener. He was eager to learn from Garak about all the different plants they saw that day, both the native earth plants and flora from other planets. He grinned his boyish grin, which had finally returned after being lost to the Dominion War, every time Garak made a remark about how a specific plant would benefit from different soil or other temperatures. Garak started nitpicking whatever he could find just to see more of it.
Julian wondered if Earth was suited to growing Edosian orchids, and Garak admitted that he hadn’t yet tried, but that he assumed that earth’s soil would miss some components. The doctor then promised he’d see if he could get his hands on suitable soil, even though Garak was certain that he could get it himself. But Julian seemed so eager to help that his attempt to tell him that died on his lips.
If he squinted, Garak could almost pretend it had been a normal day with nothing but platonic feelings on his end. Of course there was this one time their hands brushed and all the nerve endings on the back of his hand went into overdrive. Or the time a waitress’ eyes had lingered just a bit too long on Julian and some primal instinct inside of Garak yelled Mine. Or… well, that wasn’t the point. All things considered, he’d done a good job keeping himself on the straight and narrow.
It was around nine o’clock when they found their way back to their hotel, a small two-story building tucked away into an alley. The Cardassian government had made it abundantly clear that Julian Bashir was not to stay at Garak’s home for security reasons. So instead he had gotten the two of them rooms in the same small hotel, on the same floor, so his security detail only needed to guard a single building. Garak was still getting used to the idea of having a security detail in general, but he tried to trust that they were discreet and they did a good job at staying out of his immediate sight.
‘Do you want to join me in my room?’ Julian asked, just as Garak had gotten ready to say goodbye for the night. It was so unexpected that he blinked a few times, just to buy himself time to process the words. The result was an error.
‘Pardon me?’
‘Oh. Sorry. Phrasing.’ Julian winced in embarrassment and took a step backwards, just for good measure. His cheeks darkened slightly. ‘It’s nothing untoward, I assure you. I just meant that I’d like to continue our discussion about The Secret History. I like my coworkers on my new ship, but none of them are quite as fun to discuss literature with as you, so I’d like to make use of the opportunity.’
Of course it was only that. For a second, this had felt like the beginning of one of Garak’s late-night fantasies, and that was ridiculous. Garak knew the only sensible thing to do was to say no. But the doctor looked so hopeful, and he’d said that he enjoyed Garak’s presence, and Garak was weak. So he nodded and followed Julian into the room next door to his own.
Julian lit only a single, soft light to accommodate Garak's light sensitivity. The rooms in this hotel were all equipped with rococo-style furniture and he sat down on a gaudy red couch. The doctor opened a bottle of red wine - the same that had been left in Garak’s room as a welcome gift - and handed him a glass.
‘But besides the lack of stimulating intellectual conversations, doctor, how are you enjoying your time on the West Covina?’ Garak asked as he leaned back.
Julian shrugged and sat down next to Garak. He sat close enough that Garak wondered if it would be suspicious if he closed that distance, even if it was just enough for their legs to touch. He immediately chastised himself.
‘It’s fine. It’s a California-class, so none of the things we do are particularly interesting or ground-breaking. But the people are nice, and things seem a lot more easygoing than on more prestigious ships. I think I need that for now.’
Garak remembered the last time he’d seen Julian before he left for Cardassia. There had been very little left of the naive, hopeful young man that he’d approached in the Replimat ten years ago. Garak had for a split second considered asking the miserable-looking doctor to join him on Cardassia, hoping to heal him alongside his beloved homeland. But he knew the doctor would want to find his own path, and Julian had done so successfully - he looked significantly better than three years ago. Not quite like that young man again, but something close to it.
‘I am glad to hear it. Now, you said you wanted to discuss The Secret History? To get back to your earlier point…’ Garak took his PADD from his bag, planning to scroll through the text to find a specific quote as a starting point for their debate, only to notice the message icon blinking in the corner. He’d turned off message notifications for the day, except for anything marked as an emergency by his Cardassian contacts.
‘I do apologise, my dear doctor, but it seems that despite all my requests to be left alone for the day, my work needs me. Would you mind if I..?’
‘Oh, of course. Do you need to retreat to your own room?’
‘No, no, not at all.’ Garak took a quick look at the message and estimated its scope. ‘I should be able to get this sorted in half an hour or so. I most likely won’t even have to call anyone.’
‘Alright then. I guess I’ll go read for a bit. They have actual, paper books here.’ Julian grinned at Garak like a schoolboy who just got a new toy and grabbed a tome labelled Wuthering Heights. He sat down in a comfortable position, just a few excruciating centimeters away from Garak, and started reading.
Normally, Cardassia was one of the few things that could effectively distract Garak from the doctor. But as Garak sent out his first return message and waited for an answer, he found his eyes drawn to Bashir, the way they so often were. He was so caught up in his book that Garak assumed he wouldn’t notice.
The doctor was always beautiful, but in the soft yellow light of that single lamp he looked downright ethereal. He was all soft features and glowing skin, and Garak ached to reach out and run his fingers over that soft skin. It reminded him of some of the paintings they’d seen at the Louvre, and reluctantly he admitted to himself that maybe the Renaissance painters were onto something after all.
Suddenly Julian looked up from the book and their eyes met. Garak’s heart skipped a few beats and he calmly averted his gaze, hoping that his innocent smile would fool the doctor into thinking it was a coincidence and not that he had been staring.
‘Is something wrong?’ Julian asked.
‘No, no, everything is fine. I was simply wondering if the light in this room is sufficient for you to read your book.’
‘I have enhanced night-vision. Gift from my parents.’ Julian’s tone was light, more so than Garak had expected it to be considering the subject of the joke. ‘How’s the work?’
‘Oh, you know what it’s like. It’s one of those situations where the other party involved is convinced it’s an emergency, but it would not have been an issue if I had picked it up the day after tomorrow. Sadly, I am now in too deep to quit, but a few more messages should get it taken care of.’
‘Alright.’ Julian seemed ready to say something else, but instead he yawned.
‘Is your book boring you, doctor?’
‘Not at all. It’s just that it’s very warm here, and dark, so my body thinks it’s time to go to bed. Not to worry, I’ll keep myself awake.’
They both went back to their respective activities, and to avoid being caught ogling the good doctor again, Garak refused to look away from his PADD. Soon he was caught up in the message chain, trying to convince his contact person to let this matter rest for a few days. He was only drawn out of his own frustration when something warm suddenly touched his shoulder.
He looked up, expecting it to be the doctor’s hand, but instead he was greeted by a head full of dark hair and soft, rhythmic breathing.
Garak fondly shook his head and laid down his PADD, ready to wake Julian, but his hand stopped mid-air. The doctor’s warmth was pleasant, spreading further throughout Garak’s body until he was burning in the world’s gentlest fire. Julian looked peaceful, more so than Garak had ever seen him. It would be cruel for them both to wake him up right now, he decided.
He gave himself ten minutes. Ten minutes during which the world around them seemed to disappear and it was only him and the sleeping doctor. This particular scenario had never been part of Garak’s evening fantasies, but he gave himself persmission to entertain it now, in the safety of their small bubble. He allowed his mind to let it play out into a version that would never be, one where he and the doctor would fall asleep in each other’s arms. It was a silly fantasy, and an overly sentimental one, and one that could only exist here, in this dark room that felt separate from the rest of this dimension.
Their small bubble allowed another thought to surface, one that he had been suppressing all day. The feeling of the doctor’s head against his shoulder made his mental defenses crumble.
I still love you. It cut through him like a pleasurable knife. I don’t think I’ve ever stopped loving you.
Breaking the spell after ten minutes was one of the hardest things Garak had ever done, but he knew he had to. He laid a hand on the doctor’s shoulder and gently shook him. ‘Doctor?’
Julian woke up immediately and blinked a few times. Once it dawned on him where he was and what had happened, he immediately backed away from Garak, eyes large with panic. ‘Oh, Garak, I’m so sorry! I just said that this wouldn’t happen. And on your shoulder, nonetheless. I hope this isn’t some Cardassian faux pas.’
‘No need to worry, doctor,’ Garak said airily. ‘I try my best to be understanding of the fact that you are not familiar with our Cardassian customs.’ In reality, there was no real social rule about falling asleep on one’s shoulder. Most Cardassians simply didn’t relax enough around other people than their own family and closest friends to do so. ‘Although I am surprised. I thought your augmentation gave you better control over your sleeping habits than most people.’
‘Only if I actively go out of my way to make it so. I was out before I had a chance to tap into my augmentation.’ Julian groaned and ran a hand through his dishevelled hair. ‘How long have I been asleep?’
‘Just a few minutes. I simply let you nap until I was done with my work.’ Garak made a show of pressing send on the final message, which was indeed the last work-related thing he was planning to do tonight. ‘But, my dear doctor, I do think this is a sign. As much as I would love to dissect the flaws of The Secret History with you, I do not think it wise or enjoyable if we do so while you are about to fall asleep.’
‘Perhaps you’re right.’ Julian rubbed his eyes. ‘I’m sorry, Garak. It seems the trip here has tired me out more than I expected.’
‘Then you can make it up to me by resting well tonight and being your most energetic self tomorrow.’
‘That’s a deal.’ With his hair still messy and his eyes still sleepy, Julian stood up to let Garak out. He bid him goodnight with a tired smile that Garak was sure he would remember until his dying days and closed the door.
Garak stood in front of that door for a minute, weighing his options. But no - the bubble had burst and he had to get back to reality. There would be no knocking on Julian’s door. He shook his head, turned away and made himself walk to his own room, his chest painful with longing to be inside that room once more.
Silly Elim Garak, allowing himself to be held in the grasp of a single, beautiful doctor. His father had been right to warn him. He was a weak, sentimental man after all.
*****
Day 3
‘All I’m saying is that as beautiful as this palace complex is, it is a testament to how the people you humans put in power have the wrong priorities,’ Garak declared as they exited the main palace of Versailles and entered the gardens. He actually quite liked the looks of the palace complex, just like he appreciated most Parisian architecture, but telling the doctor that would deprive him of some good debating. ‘Just take a look at how enormous these gardens are. A small village could grow enough crops here to sustain themselves year-round.’
‘That was the whole point. The King’s goal was to show off his wealth,’ Julian explained. ‘I mean, you’ve gone on in length about the beautiful architecture of Cardassia. This isn’t any different.’
‘On the contrary, doctor. Most of Cardassia’s beautiful architecture was explicitly for public buildings. They were seldom vanity projects for the elite.’
Their time together was slowly coming to an end, these final minutes together slipping through Garak’s fingers. It was a sharp contrast to how he felt the evening before - after leaving Julian's room, he had sincerely considered faking an embassy emergency so he could sneak away in the early morning. He was relieved that he hadn’t. He wanted to etch every moment of today into his memory.
‘It simply surprises me that you leave these up,’ he continued. ‘It seems to me that using it as a tourist attraction glorifies this boasting of wealth. I was under the impression that was not one of the basic ideas of the Federation.’
‘Maybe, to a degree. But it’s a way of remembering and learning from the past,’ Julian argued. ‘Leaving places like these intact allows us to experience and learn from the past in a way that books would not. And if people learn about history, they will be more likely to learn from it.’
‘Why not use a holo-deck? Then the resources put into this palace complex could be used for more productive purposes.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think the experience of a holo-deck would have quite the same charm as visiting the real thing with a dear friend.’ Julian looked up to him with a wide smile and all air disappeared from Garak’s lungs. He wondered what to say to that, how to tell the doctor he enjoyed his presence too without pouring his entire heart out, but the doctor simply continued talking like he’d said nothing special. ‘But do you mean to tell me that no historical Cardassian leaders ever built themselves mansions, or palaces, simply out of vanity? I know about Tain’s mansion, so there is at least one.’
‘As much as I would like to believe we are above these things, I won’t pretend that all Cardassians who ever lived have managed to resist the urge to flaunt their wealth at the expense of others. They were, indeed, most impressive, but the emphasis here lies on were. There might be corners of the world where the old, prestigious buildings still stand, but everywhere I’ve been, they have been reduced to rubble.’
‘I see. Any plans to rebuild some of those prestigious buildings?’
‘The relevant ones, of course. Ministries, and our important courts, probably even our theatres. I don’t think that rebuilding lavish palaces simply for tourist purposes would go down well with all our needy people, however. But I did like what you said about preserving the past to learn from it. I will take that into consideration.’
‘You liked something I said?’ Julian raised his eyebrows in amusement. ‘I never thought I’d see the day.’
If only you knew how intriguing I find your every word. I wish you would talk to me forever.
‘If I did not think you said the occasional intelligent thing, my dear doctor, I would not have had lunch with you for seven years,’ he answered matter-of-factly.
‘I’ll choose to take that as a compliment,’ Julian laughed, and they made a turn away from the main path and into a small perfectly symmetrical forest. Garak decided that he’d linger here once Julian had made his way back to the transporter station in Paris, simply to study the gardens in more detail. But first there was something else that demanded his attention .
Garak studied Julian as they strolled through the different small forests, chatting about the statues and the fountains and anything else they saw. He was determined to commit every inch of the doctor’s face, every lilt of his voice, to memory. They had faded from his mind over the past three years, but now they could haunt him in those minutes between wake and sleep once more.
And then he heard the sound that he’d been dreading all day - a beep from Julian’s pocket, indicating that their day together would come to an end.
‘I assume that’s your ride?’ he inquired.
Julian nodded. ‘Starfleet has arranged a carpool. They’ll be here to pick me up in ten minutes.’
Don’t go.
‘I see. They are taking good care of you, at least.’
‘I requested it. I got the impression your government wasn’t too keen on me joining you in the ambassador’s car, and Starfleet offers the service for people on shore leave. They’ve already picked up my luggage as well.’ Julian walked towards the side of the path, stood still in the shade of some trees, and turned towards Garak. ‘Then, I suppose that this is goodbye for now?’
‘I suppose it is, my dear doctor. Thank you for visiting me here. I suspect I shall be here for quite a few years to come, so if you are ever on Earth again, you know where to find me.’ He held out his hand, expecting the doctor to shake it. Julian’s hand remained at his side.
‘I think we are past the point of hand shakes, are we not?’ he said. He was bouncing on his feet ever so slightly and he struggled to look Garak in the eyes for longer than half a second at a time. Garak would almost mistake it for nerves if he didn’t know better.
‘What else would you suggest, my dear doctor? I hope not one of those hugs you humans are so fond of?’ He desperately hoped that his voice didn't betray how much he wanted to hold the good doctor.
Julian held up his hand, palm open and fingers stretched out. ‘This is what you did with Ziyal, correct? I never fully grasped its meaning, but I got the impression it was similar to a hug for us humans.’
‘I’d say it’s similar, but its meaning is of course uniquely Cardassian. I do, however, deeply appreciate your attempts at learning our culture. Thank you.’ He raised his hand and pressed his palm against Julian’s, and for a second the Earth stopped turning.
They kept their palms pressed together for longer than was custom. Julian relaxed now that his offer had been accepted, and he could properly look Garak in the eye again. Garak’s world dissolved into the dark color of the doctor’s eyes and the light of what was still, after everything, the most blindingly bright star in his night sky.
He could allow himself an indulgence and get a bit closer, he decided. It was still a platonic gesture, not unlike one of hugs the doctor would give his close friends. He would have the upper hand, he told himself, knowing full well that he might have never had the upper hand to begin with.
He laced his and Julian’s fingers together and leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the doctor’s. Julian’s eyes grew larger, a bit of uncertainty in his gaze, and for a second Garak was afraid he’d overstepped and that Julian would move away. Instead, the doctor leaned into the touch and closed his eyes. Garak did so too.
I will be in love with you until the day I die.
It was there, under the shade of a tree in the gardens of Versailles, that Garak made peace with that. He let the heat from Julian’s touch spread through his body, allowed it to set every nerve ablaze and let it settle in his bones.
He didn’t know who was the first to let go, but after what felt like a split second and an eternity all at once, they both moved away and released their hands. Julian’s breathing was heavier, his face flushed, and his voice hoarse when he said: ‘I’ll see you again soon, my friend.’
‘I will be looking forward to it, my dear.’ And that next time, Garak allowed himself to hope, maybe they wouldn't need to say goodbye so soon. Perhaps next time he would be able to ask the doctor to stay.
Julian Bashir walked away, towards the exit of the gardens, and looked over his shoulder once more to wave at Garak. He then grinned his boyish grin one last time, the setting sun bathing him in golden light, and disappeared around a corner. And although he knew nothing had actually changed, Garak swore the world around him had never been this colorful.