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His shift was over, but Julian still had one more patient to attend to, back in his quarters. Kukulaka had, at long last, been safely returned to him, but as he had been putting the bear back in his place of pride on the desk, Julian had spotted that some of the stitches in his side had started to fray. Now, he was looking forward to being able to treat his old friend with some long-overdue, tender, loving care.
"I'm home!" he called as he entered his quarters – not just for Kukulaka's benefit. At some point during the last few weeks, his weekly lunch with Garak had turned into dinner (he was marginally less likely to be interrupted at this time), which had then turned into multiple dinners, until it was no longer surprising to return home and find the tailor sitting on his sofa, usually embroidering some creation or other.
"That much is evident, Doctor," Garak replied acerbically, but Julian could recognise the fond twinkle behind the Cardassian's eyes. "Is it really necessary to state the obvious every time you come through that door?"
Julian slung his bag down on the sofa, shooting a grin at Garak. "Necessary? No. Although, now I know how much it irritates you..."
"You are insufferable, Doctor," Garak declared.
"And yet, you're still here, suffering me. At this point, I think you'll find it's your own fault, Mister Garak."
Garak's eyes followed him as he walked across the room to retrieve his small needlework kit. That, too, he placed on the sofa, before going to get Kukulaka.
"Sewing, Doctor?"
"Yes, actually. I noticed someone," he said, giving the bear an affectionate pat on the head, "was looking a little worse for—"
He stopped abruptly. Having now picked up Kukulaka, he could not see the worn-out stitches that he'd noticed yesterday: in fact, he could no longer see any stitches at all. Every trace of Julian's surgeries over the years, from his first, clumsy efforts to his later, more refined sutures had seemingly disappeared overnight, leaving Julian with a strangely hollow pit in the bottom of his stomach.
"Garak," he said, keeping his back to the tailor as he struggled to keep his voice normal. "Did you do this?"
"Indeed I did, my dear Doctor." Julian hated that he could hear the smile in Garak's voice. “I, too, couldn’t help noticing what a state your bear was in, and since it is my area of expertise…”
“That’s— That’s very kind of you,” replied Julian quietly. The awareness that he ought to be sounding more grateful rubbed against his insides like sandpaper, but the heartbeat pounding in his ears was making it difficult to concentrate on keeping his emotions in check.
Garak hadn’t seemed to notice. “I think you’ll find he’s in perfect condition,” he continued. “Better, even. He’ll likely not need stitches again – unless he winds up on some peculiar adventure, I suppose. But your bear is not so foolhardy as you, my dear.”
Garak’s tone was light, but there was no mockery to it; he was speaking about Kukulaka the same way Julian did, and at any other time, Julian would have loved him for it. Right now, all Julian could do was shrug, replying only with a short, “I suppose.”
There was a pause. “I don’t mean to imply that your handiwork was bad,” redirected Garak. “In fact, I was rather impressed, Doctor, at the way you’d kept him together for all these years. He wasn’t the sturdiest fellow.”
“I used to call him my first patient.” The words left Julian unexpectedly, and he immediately wished they hadn’t, because now he could feel the dam beginning to burst and he couldn’t – he couldn’t – let Garak see how stupidly emotional he was getting over this small kindness.
He pivoted around, gripping Kukulaka close as he walked back to the door. “I left something in the infirmary,” he said, still not looking at Garak. “I’ll be right back.”
The door slid open, but suddenly, Garak was in front of him, placing a hand on his wrist.
“You’re upset,” he said simply. “Why?”
Julian was trapped. While he wanted to flinch away from Garak, whose touch was feeling more like a shackle than a comfort, he didn’t want to do anything – anything more – that might trouble his friend. For a few moments, he stood helplessly in place, unable to think of a way to get out of this situation without offending Garak.
“If you were me…” he started softly, then changed his mind – that would be a stupid thing to say. “No, don’t worry. It doesn’t matter,” he finished.
“I think, Doctor, this is perhaps a conversation better had sitting down, don’t you?” asked Garak, placing his other hand on Julian’s back and guiding him towards the sofa with a gentle pressure. “Now, then,” he continued once they were seated, “you should know that I am greatly interested to hear your thoughts. If I were you, then what?”
There had always been something about Garak that had made Julian feel overpowered: the feeling had often been one that Julian had reached out for, been attracted by, his inability to resist Garak leaving him with a certain thrill. Now, that feeling had been turned against him, intensified by how unusually close Garak was sitting to him – shoulder-to-shoulder, knee-to-knee; his cold hand still covering Julian’s wrist.
“If you were me,” he mumbled reluctantly, “what lie would you be coming up with?”
“That’s difficult to say,” replied Garak, “when I don’t know what truth it is that my story would have to conceal.”
Julian snorted wetly. “I am grateful, really—” he tried to say again, but Garak cut him off with a sharp tut.
“I’ve seen you tell better lies than that, Doctor,” he said reprovingly. “Clearly, there has been some error on my part here.”
Julian didn’t have the energy to correct him. He let himself lean against the other man, although he didn’t quite dare to rest his head on Garak’s shoulder, lest he scare his friend away.
“I’m not entirely sure I can explain it myself,” he said softly, looking down at Kukulaka and giving him a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry, Garak, but I simply don’t know where to start. Can we just forget it? Please?”
He flicked his eyes back up to Garak cautiously, not really expecting the interrogation to cease – and was quite taken aback to find that a vicious scowl had spread over the Cardassian’s face.
“Have it your way,” Garak said archly. “I suppose I was invited for dinner, not conversation.” Standing up abruptly, he stalked over to the kitchenette without a second glance back at Julian.
“Garak—”
Julian’s throat closed around the rest of his sentence, his insides shrivelling into ice as he watched Garak silently tap orders into the replicator. He should have left when he’d had the chance. It would have confused Garak, upset him – but now, it seemed, he was mad at Julian, and that was much worse.
You want to fix this? Then stop being so childish and say something, hissed a voice in his head, but Julian could not obey. Even as Garak finished setting food on the table – now pointedly taking a seat at the other end of the sofa – Julian continued to find himself frozen in place. It was absurd, he knew, having some sort of breakdown and ruining their evening over a child’s toy: it wasn’t even as though Kukulaka had been injured in some way, which would at least have been a little understandable. You always did overreact, that familiar voice sneered, and Julian couldn’t deny it – he was broken, defective, damaged…
Just like Kukulaka had been.
But mending a teddy bear was a far easier process than mending a human. No wonder Garak had lost patience with him.
“The food will be getting cold, Doctor,” said Garak, causing Julian to startle, and all at once a thought was dropping from his lips.
“You’ve got scars, haven’t you, Garak?”
Garak hesitated, seeming to withdraw into himself momentarily before responding. “A curious inquiry,” he replied, “since I am sure you know, Doctor, that in the past I have endured medical treatment less... solicitous… than your own. You offered to heal them, once.”
“And you didn’t let me,” Julian murmured softly, his eyes unfocused, far away. He was still mindlessly tracing patterns across Kukulaka’s unfamiliar fur, the bear soft in his hands.
Garak roughly set down his knife and fork, and Julian flinched at the sudden clatter of metal against china.
“I see,” Garak said bitingly, turning to face Julian. “My ‘transgression’ was failing to realise that you would consider that akin to removing the flaws in your toy. Tell me, do you have scars, Doctor? Are reminders of every mistake you made, every failure to fulfil your duty, etched across your skin?”
“I had Kukulaka,” Julian whispered. “Of course I don’t have scars. I was supposed to be perfect, I—My parents—”
He faltered, a harsh chuckle overtaking his speech. “Of course I don’t have scars,” he repeated, hoping that Garak might understand.
Because it was true, despite his barely-coherent explanation. The bear’s many, careful stitches had been, in a way, a monument to what they had been through together: where his skin had remained unblemished, Kukulaka had borne the scars of their childhood for both of them.
He hadn’t realised he had more to say until he’d already started speaking again.
“Did I—did I ever tell you how many dreams I used to have about the hospital?” he asked. “Not after I found out, I mean, but before, when I was seven, eight years old… My parents told me they were just nightmares— I-I thought they were just nightmares. And then…”
Julian’s voice was shaking. He didn’t dare look at Garak.
“And then when they told me it was true, I—well, I thought I remembered it but… But do I? How can I ever know for sure which memories are real and which were made up while I was sleeping? I don’t have scars, Garak, I don’t know what happened to me!”
His voice, which had been rising steadily, suddenly dropped back down to a hoarse whisper. “But Kukulaka did,” he said. “Kukulaka was there, he was real – and—and I know it sounds silly but that’s why he’s never been just a toy, not me. He’s my witness.”
That last statement sounded a touch dramatic, even to his ears, and he had no idea what Garak would make of it all. He sat there, fidgeting, as he waited for his friend to respond.
“Your dinner is getting cold,” Garak said eventually, but more softly this time, and he shuffled along the sofa to sit next to the doctor once more. Julian could recognise an olive branch when he saw one, and he nodded in acknowledgement.
“I’d better get started then,” he replied, although if truth be told, he no longer had much of an appetite. As he set Kukulaka down beside him, he wondered if Garak was going to say anything else, or if they’d be left eating their dinner in this odd silence that had now sprung up between them.
“I must admit, I am curious,” Garak started, several minutes later. Julian looked at him, automatically tensing in anticipation of what he might say. “Yesterday, you mentioned that you had left your bear with Miss Ren, following your separation. Why, when you are so protective of him?”
Julian sighed: of course Garak would ask the difficult questions. “Leeta was delighted by Kukulaka from the moment she met him,” he tried to explain. “And I suppose that meant a lot to me, that she loved my scarred, ugly bear the way she did. So when we broke up…” He trailed off, shrugging.
“It’s hard to describe,” he continued, brows drawing together. “Kukulaka had become important to us both, I guess, during our relationship. And so even if she didn’t love me anymore, the fact that she still loved him… I don’t know. I wanted her to have him. It made sense at the time.” He shrugged again, giving Garak a short, rueful smile. “And of course, that was before my parents came to the station,” he added.
Garak frowned at him studiously. “Ren Leeta accepted the bear as he was; therefore you felt that she accepted you too, for all your faults,” he said slowly. “Meanwhile I… I attempted to fix your friend and remove any defects – and you believe that to be a reflection of how I view you, Doctor. Am I correct in thinking that you see your bear as some sort of—of metaphor for yourself?”
Julian stared at him. It wasn’t how he would have put it – it wouldn’t have occurred to him to phrase his feelings in such a way – but now that Garak had voiced the thought, it was hard to ignore.
“I hadn’t thought of it like that,” he replied quietly. “But yes. Perhaps.”
Shaking his head, he filed the thought away for further examination later, and looked back to Garak. “You’d make quite the psychologist, Mister Garak,” he said, lips twitching into a soft grin.
“Oh, hardly,” said Garak, scoffing just as Julian had known he would. “Other people’s problems are of no interest to me.”
There was a strange swooping sensation in Julian’s chest. “But mine… are?” he asked hesitantly.
Garak hesitated too, before issuing an awkward, stiff reply. “I did not… enjoy seeing you upset,” he admitted. His voice grew quieter. “And I had hoped that I… would not hurt you, again. Clearly, that was one expectation too far.”
Julian was quite unprepared for such raw honesty. His lips fell apart, and he found himself at a loss for how to reply.
Garak pulled himself up straighter, drawing in a breath. “You made a mistake in trusting me with your feelings,” he said curtly, nodding as though confirming something to himself. “Yes. I should leave, before I hurt you any more.”
He stood up, and Julian followed him indignantly, grabbing his hand. “Leave?” he exclaimed. “How could you possibly think that’s what I want, Garak?”
“As I recall, you tried to leave first—”
“And then you forced me to have this entire conversation with you!” responded Julian incredulously. “You’re impossible! First you give me the silent treatment, then you get angry with me, and now just as we’re on the verge of… of something…”
He trailed off, a dark expression creeping into his eyes. “God forbid that you actually share your feelings,” he muttered. “That would be too much like sentiment, wouldn’t it? What was it you said, “sentiment is the greatest weakness of all” – is that it?”
Garak laughed scornfully. “After this evening, Doctor, you’re hardly in a position to lecture me about being open with one’s feelings.”
Julian wondered how they’d ended back in an argument again; in fact, how any of this had turned into an argument at all. Was Garak really so emotionally hopeless that he couldn’t show vulnerability for more than a few minutes without having to cover it up defensively?
Although… Garak wasn’t exactly incorrect in saying that Julian was in no position to judge. ‘Defensive’, ‘uncomfortable with vulnerability’, ‘emotionally hopeless’ – if he were honest with himself, these were all adjectives that could describe one Doctor Julian Bashir…
God, they really were a pair, weren’t they? Despite himself, he started to chuckle, the situation suddenly appearing to him quite absurd.
“I fail to see the amusement in this situation,” snapped Garak, which only made Julian laugh harder.
“Us,” he replied. “We’re both useless at this, Garak. God.” He sat back down, roughly wiping his sleeve across his eyes, and took a deep, settling breath.
“Stay,” he said, looking up into Garak’s eyes and pulling on his hand. “Please. I don’t want you to go.”
Garak was looking back at him, although Julian wasn’t sure if his face was creased in confusion or concern.
“I cannot promise that I will not… upset you, again,” he replied tightly.
“I guess I can’t promise that either,” said Julian, “but we can try talking about it, can’t we? We didn’t do too badly tonight.”
Garak raised an eyebrow. “Okay, tonight has been a train wreck,” Julian corrected. “But you know what they say: practice makes perfect. Sit down, Garak. Please.”
He moved Kukulaka back onto his lap, indicating that the space next to him was now free, but Garak made no movement. Julian’s heart seemed to stop as he waited, his eyes caught in the Cardassian’s piercing blue gaze.
“Your bear will never be as he was before,” noted Garak, his voice low. “I cannot change that.”
Julian stopped running his fingers through the bear’s fur, dropping his eyes down to Kukulaka. “I know,” he said softly. “And I won’t lie – that’s going to hurt for quite some time.” For a few seconds, he closed his eyes, as a mixture of loss and regret pulled sharply upon his heartstrings. “But losing you won’t make that go away,” he continued, looking back at Garak once more. “Will you stay?”
There was another too-long pause, but finally, finally, Garak was sitting back down with a sigh. “If I must,” he complained, but Julian knew that was just for show. Before he could second-guess himself, he set Kukulaka down on Garak’s lap, smiling at the surprise that immediately leapt onto the Cardassian’s face.
“Doctor…”
“Kukulaka would like to say thank you for making him feel better,” Julian said firmly. “Apparently you make for quite the doctor, too.”
“Oh?”
For a few seconds, Garak was seemingly speechless, his eyes flicking between Julian and Kukulaka, before settling on the bear. “You’re quite welcome, young bear,” he said seriously. “Although I doubt I’ll be taking up that mantle again any time soon.”
“Actually,” said Julian tentatively, hoping that he wasn’t about to shatter their recently-brokered truce. “Um, Kukulaka thinks you should know that there’s another way to make him feel better, too.”
“And what’s that?”
Julian’s reply came out as little more than a whisper.
“A good hug?”
Garak’s eyes settled on Julian’s face once more. “I don’t suppose…” he said slowly, “that Kukulaka knows if this… technique… would also be appreciated by Doctor Bashir?”
Julian could feel his cheeks growing warm. “Kukulaka has it on good authority that Doctor Bashir would really like a hug,” he replied, trying to keep his voice light.
“Even a Cardassian one?”
“Especially a Cardassian one.”
Emboldened by Garak’s response, Julian shifted himself closer, pulling Garak’s arm around him so that he could curl up against his chest, Kukulaka safely ensconced within his own arms. It was surprising how natural it felt, like Julian had always belonged at Garak’s side, and always would.
“What do I do now?” asked Garak.
“Just hold me,” Julian murmured. “For as long as you want – until you want to leave. Just… Just hold me.”
“My dear Doctor,” Garak murmured back, his rough fingers beginning to trace patterns over Julian’s arm. “I thought we’d agreed that I would not be leaving.”