Chapter Text
The next day, Julian awoke in such a state that he spilled out of bed in a graceless tangle of limbs. Groaning, he reached for the hypospray Miles had so thoughtfully laid out for him, and placed it against his neck, the sweet relief of his own personal cocktail of anti-inflammatory, anti-nausea, headache-reducing medicines rushing through him upon release.
He desperately wanted a raktajino, but he needed the bathroom first. The sight of himself in the mirror caused him to flinch. “Computer, lower lights by seventy percent.” The computer complied, and everything dimmed – just enough light to see by, but not enough for the mirror to reflect the disheveled state he’d fallen into.
The revelation came to him as he was washing his face. Last night came rushing back to him in a tumble of memories, and he pressed his hand to his head.
He made a mental note to thank Miles, then reached for a PADD to put in for three days of leave.
Julian sighed. “Raktajino. Hot. Sweet,” he specified. The replicator must have been having a good day, because it had put whipped cream on his beverage. “Huh. That’s never happened before…. Miles,” he concluded, smiling.
He fiddled with the replicator for a moment. “Roses. Two dozen,” he said, and instantly regretted not specifying that they be thornless as a deluge of roses flung itself at him.
After he’d retrieved and returned the dermal regenerator to and from his regular medkit – not the one behind the mirror, and God, did Julian owe Miles – he set off in the direction of the Defiant.
He found Chief O’Brien buried in a veritable mountain of wires, cables, scanners, and self-sealing stem-bolts.
“Here. Take three roses,” Julian said.
“Julian,” Miles said in the manner of someone who was on the very verge of losing his patience. “Are you still drunk?”
“No, no. I am one hundred percent sober,” Julian assured him, much in the manner of someone who was lying to themselves and everyone around them, despite the fact that there was no falsehood to be found in his words.
“You don’t sound it,” Miles complained. “And why are you offering me roses? I thought you had a crush on Garak.”
“Because, I don’t think you’d ever play the holos with me again if I offered them to Keiko myself. And to be honest, I replicated two dozen but then I remembered that twenty-four is an unlucky number in Cardassian mythology, and well, twenty-one is better for both of us. It’s a Fibonacci number, after all.”
“So is three,” Miles protested.
“Yeah, but twenty-one is bigger,” Julian said, only belatedly realizing how petty and childish that sounded.
Miles stood. “Julian. I’m beginning to suspect that Garak is a nothing more than a cradle-robber.”
“I’m thirty-three,” Julian said, crossing his arms. “And a half,” he added.
“Are you even hearing yourself? You’re an overgrown child,” said Miles.
“I prefer the term ‘childlike spirit,’” Julian joked.
“And why are you wearing a suit?” Miles asked, lowering himself down amongst the chaos once more.
“Not only a suit. My best suit.”
“That doesn’t answer my question,” Miles said. It was evident that what was already a limited reserve of patience was running out.
“Because,” Julian said. “It suits me.”
And Miles, who had had enough, sighed and said, slowly, “Julian. Get out of here and go talk to Garak before Odo needs to be called.”
“What does Odo have to do with anything?”
“Well, I’m sure he’d have something to say if I started lobbing self-sealing stem-bolts at your stupid face.”
“Ah,” said Julian, backing away slowly. “I see.” He paused, then selected three of the choicest blooms and set them on the floor between them like a peace offering.
He turned to go, but Miles called out, “Julian, wait.”
And Julian, who had been expecting just such a turn of events, stopped once more in his tracks.
“Thank you. I’m sure that Keiko will love the flowers.” The Chief seemed reluctant to say them, but the words still rang with genuine gratitude.
“No, it’s me who should be thanking you,” said Julian, lingering for just a moment before going on his way, taking the long and meandering path through the upper pylons towards Garak’s quarters, then taking the turbolift the rest of the way.
He straightened out his suit and hid the bouquet of roses behind his back before going to ring the bell, but he’d forgotten that Garak had imprinted his biometric data so that the door would open to either of them, so he just stood there, hovering at the entryway, one hand at an awkward angle behind his back.
Garak was seated on the divan, doing a bit of hemming, or at least what looked like hemming to Julian. “Ah, my dear doctor. Tell me. What can I do for you?”
“Tell me about your houseplants,” Julian said. “I mean-” He didn’t know exactly what he meant, so he thrust the bouquet of roses towards Garak, who had stood to look at him with concern painted across his features. “I mean that I’m ready. To listen.”
“Come with me,” Garak said, approaching Julian before taking him by the hand. A couple passed them in the corridor, one of the women Bajoran; the other human, and both smiled at Garak, who very pleasantly waved back. The door to his quarters slid shut, and Garak dropped his hand and accepted the roses with an inscrutable look.
Garak was silent for a long moment as he replicated a vase full of water, fingers flying across the control panel. “You see,” he began, “the Bajoran plants are to filter the air. They’re excellent at it, and my respiratory system requires a slightly different balance of oxygen and nitrogen. It’s a matter of a few tenths of a percent, but I do like my creature comforts in my own quarters. Ah, and the Cardassian plants all bear fruit, or otherwise provide fragrant, favorable herbs. Ah, here. A very mild weed, a little like dill,” Garak said, handing Julian a sprig. “Taste.”
Julian, who had never been fond of dill, brought the weed to his lips and gave it a tentative sniff. “And the flowers?”
When Garak looked at him, his eyes were open wide – wider than Julian had ever seen them, almost as if the Cardassian were surprised, an emotion Julian had only ever seen the other act out. Never before had he seen such genuine confusion and uncertainty in Garak’s eyes. “I thought that was self-evident. I grew them for you,” he said, softly.
“Why?” Julian asked, gesturing to the garden surrounding them. It was a little like he’d always imagined paradise to be. “Why go to all these lengths, and never even give me a single bloom?”
“My dear Julian,” Garak said, smiling. “You forget that we are from different worlds. On Cardassia, we don’t give one another cut flowers. We bring our lovers plants.”
“But-”
Garak held up his hand. “I suppose I’m not being very transparent, am I? All I’m trying to say is that I hoped you would one day make a home here. With me. And when you did, I wanted you to see all the beauty your world has to hold.”
Julian drew in a sharp intake of breath. “Are you asking me to move in with you?”
“Well, if I am, I’m not doing a very good job.” Garak chuckled. “But if I were to ask… Would you say ‘yes?’”
“Garak, you could ask me to marry me right now and I’d say ‘yes.’” He turned in a slow circle, taking in the scents and sights of the plants – the ripening fruit, the creeping vines, the blossoms and the buds, all of them verdant and blooming with fragrance.
And when he turned back around, Garak was on both knees, and Julian would later swear that his hearted stopped in that moment.
“Julian-”
“Garak,” Julian acknowledged, eyes brimming with tears.
“I– I don’t have a ring, and I know this is all very sudden. But I’ve never loved anyone more than I love you in this moment. Will you marry me?”
And Julian found his hands shaking, his knees giving out as he knelt in front of Garak, their legs brushing together. “Yes. God, yes. But I have one condition.”
“Anything,” Garak breathed.
“I want to know you. All of you. I want you to tell me everything.”
“I can do that,” Garak said, resting his forehead briefly against Julian’s before claiming his lips in a passionate kiss that lingered until they were both breathless, hearts pounding.
And the rest of the night was spent under the covers, sharing stories, cradling each other close as Julian bombarded Garak with all the questions he’d ever wanted to know, until there were no more secrets between them, until Garak had spilled everything that could possibly be said in one night, until they were both laughing at the absurdity of it all.
“I wish I’d told you sooner,” Garak murmured, lips against Julian’s temple.
“What?”
“Everything,” Garak said, holding Julian tighter. “I want to be known by you,” he said, quietly. “But I was and remain ashamed of who I was and what I’d done.” He turned away, and when Julian guided his gaze back to his own, Garak’s eyes were filled with tears.
“I love you, no matter who you were. Or what you did. I love you for who you’ve become.”
“My dear Julian. You must understand that I’ve only become the person I am today – through knowing you. You showed me that the galaxy is full of possibility. I saw the universe through your eyes, and I found it beautiful. You’ve changed me, moved me, made me a better man. None of that was me. It was all you.”
Julian smiled softly. “I’m better off for having known you too. You taught me how to be honest with myself. To accept my augmentation. To live in the light, rather than to linger in the shadows. That was all you, Garak.”
“I’m glad,” Garak said, nuzzling into Julian’s neck.
“I’ve kept you up all night,” Julian said, startling a bit at the sound of Garak’s alarm. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I wouldn’t have traded this time with you for the world. However,” Garak began, trying and failing to disentangle himself from Julian, “I told that lovely Klingon fellow visiting Worf that I’d have his armor polished by this morning, and there’s that Lieutenant who lives on one of the upper pylons who is getting married soon and their garment is very intricate, you know, and then I promised I’d show Dax my inventory of-”
“Stay with me,” Julian whispered, reaching for Garak the instant the other managed to free himself. “Sleep a while.”
“As tempting as that sounds…” Garak’s words faltered when Julian’s face fell. “You know, I was – I mean, I am – a good tailor. But that was never where my heart truly lies.”
“What would you rather be doing?”
“It hardly matters,” Garak deflected.
“Tell me anyway.”
Garak closed his eyes, and held up his hands. “I always wanted to do something with my hands. I got that much, at least. But… I wanted to be a farmer. Cardassia hasn’t had farmers in a hundred years, though. Not the way Bajor does. Or even Earth. It’s all automated. Drones and bots do a better job, anyway. My proclivities were considered… Uncivilized, by the standards of my world. I was always playing in the dirt as a boy. I lost count of how many times my father beat me for it. I didn’t mind.” Garak shrugged, the falsely nonchalant motion of someone who had never quite processed their anger, someone who was still pretending that it didn’t matter when it very much did.
Garak drew in a deep, shaky breath. “But one day, I went too far. I had collected seeds from the flowers that grew wild at the edge of our town, and I’d planted a wildflower garden on our property.” Garak rolled his shoulder. “The day he discovered it, he decided to teach me a lesson! He beat me so hard he broke my arm, but what hurt even more was that he never called me his son after that day. He wouldn’t acknowledge that he was my father until very moments before he died.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Julian whispered.
“You don’t need to say anything,” Garak breathed. “All that matters is that you listened.”
“Does that mean you’ll stay here and rest a while?”
Garak couldn’t help but smile at Julian shy smile. “Ah, my dear doctor. What can I say? You’ve convinced me.”