The Circle in the Spiral, Part I

[dark_sinestra]

Author Notes: The story indirectly references episodes from Nor the Battle to the Strong through Trials and Tribble-ations, picking up with Let He Who is Without Sin. I'm still in fast-forward mode, for although Nor the Battle... had a lot of good Doctor moments, it was written so tightly there really wasn't room to fiddle around in it. Besides, there's still the issue of Garak's incarceration. I don't want this to turn into a prison story in space, not with such cushy, boring digs.

Summary: Life continues to move at break-neck speed for Julian, while it seems to have come to a screeching halt for Garak. When Julian finally has time to travel with Leeta to Risa, a mysterious medical crisis strikes Garak, leaving the rest of the infirmary staff baffled and hoping for Julian's quick return. Garak travels to the brink of madness, discovering that there is more to his world than he ever imagined. Can Julian save him, or will he need that energy for himself when a burn conference doesn't go as expected?

Author: Dark Sinestra

Date Written: June 2010

Category: Slashy angst, Het

Rating: PG-13 for mild adult language, adult situations, and implied sexual content

Disclaimer: Disclaimer is disclaimery. You've seen the credits for Deep Space Nine. I promise you my name isn't in them anywhere.

Word Count: 15,990

 

 

Julian

 

They stare at him from the floor, these corpses with living eyes, pleading with him to do something, do anything for the agony, for their bodies which are beyond what help he can provide. He steps over them without a second glance. All of his energy is for those who might live to see another day with simple surgery, a good antibiotic, and a little time to rest. It's a choreography of efficiency in the damp, close space.

 

Stench of blood. Stench of bile. Stench of sweat.

 

He offers a smile here, a touch there, impersonal comfort to nameless patients. Hopeless cries, whimpers, and moans rise from the beds and the floor, a discordant cacophony, the music for the dance of life and death of the doctors, medics, and untrained assistants doing their best to fight back the tide of destruction.

 

Stench of blood. Stench of bile. Stench of sweat.

 

Never enough sleep, never enough time to eat, and it's a miracle he has an appetite. He's burning too much not to fuel the internal fire. His patients can't afford their doctor's collapse. He can't afford the guilt of letting himself falter. There's no room for mistakes, no back up system for any failure.

 

Stench of blood. Stench of bile. Stench of sweat.

 

He's running. The ground is exploding in showers of grit and pebbles. It's raining earth. The sky is upside down, and there's so much noise it jars his teeth in their sockets. Jake is behind him. There's no safe path, no guarantee. There's a wall of sound so hard it's a shove against his skin. Where is Jake? Where is Jake?! The boy is on the blasted ground, looking at him with dead eyes in a living body.

 

Julian jerked awake with a loud outcry, his body already sitting up before his mind was fully engaged. So soaked with sweat that even his mattress was soggy, he violently kicked the tangled covers from around his legs and stumbled into the bathroom to splash his head, face, and chest with water. It wasn't enough. He dunked his entire head under the faucet and let it run until he felt himself return to reality. “How many times am I going to have that dream?” he groaned, reaching up to shut off the flow of water and fumbling blindly for a towel.

 

His breathing was slow to return to his control. Even after a shower, he thought he could still feel that fine coating of grit on his skin atop his sour sweat. It has been weeks! he told himself in frustration. Since then there had been worse things to worry about, Keiko's possession by a very real, non-mythological pagh wraith, an accidental trip back in time that could have gone terribly wrong but thankfully didn't. It didn't matter. It all paled in comparison to his first real taste of war. Nothing that had happened on the station had fully prepared him for it. He had performed admirably according to his superiors. So why did he relate more to Jake's article about the experience than anything his veneer of competence would suggest?

 

He debated with himself for a long time before walking over to his comm system and hailing Leeta. He hoped she wasn't asleep yet. She answered the call still in her dabo girl outfit and looked surprised. “Julian, is everything OK?” she asked.

 

“Yes,” he said, the heart in his smile dying before it could fully form. “No,” he negated the lie. “I know this might be awkward, but...can I come over, please?”

 

“All right,” she said, her frown deepening. “I was just about to eat. Do you want me to set you a place?”

 

“No,” he said. “I'm not hungry. I just...I really need some company right now, and I didn't know who else to call.”

 

“That's OK,” she said. “I'll see you in a few minutes.”

 

He cut the transmission and headed back to his bedroom, throwing on an older, comfortable pullover and drawstring tie pants. He kicked his feet into his only pair of sandals and hurried out of his quarters. Something about the eerie silence and shadowed lighting of the habitat ring corridor made him feel exposed to the ghosts of his memories of the triage, all of those people he had to ignore in order to save the ones he could. He wasn't a superstitious man in any way, and yet he couldn't help but to feel a distinct chill.

 

Leeta answered his hail on the first ring and drew him inside by both hands. She wrapped him in a warm, tight embrace and held him there for as long as he allowed. He didn't have words for how grateful he felt, that she didn't question him or fuss over him, simply giving him what he needed most in that moment. At last he pulled back, cupping both of her cheeks in his hands and kissing her full on the mouth, a chaste kiss that spoke for him where his words failed him. “I know you're hungry,” he said. “Go ahead and sit to eat. I'll sit with you, and we can talk.”

 

“OK,” she said, taking one of his hands and leading him to the table with her. She took her seat and eyed him receptively, seemingly content to allow him to lead the conversation any way he saw fit. He felt another surge of gratitude.

 

“I keep having this recurring nightmare about Ajilon Prime. A lot of it is just about what you'd expect, you know? The triage and surgeries, the huge number of casualties we had coming through constantly. I know it's just my mind trying to process everything I saw and did, but there's always this part at the end involving Jake.” He paused and frowned. She reached to take his hand again. He felt guilty that she had yet to touch her food. “You should eat,” he said.

 

“I will in a minute,” she replied. “What about Jake?”

 

He squeezed her hand and released it, then passed his hand down his face. “It's like...he's dead inside...because I took him there. I see him lying on the ground, writhing in pain, but his eyes are dead, clouded over...” He paused, speaking of it difficult. The emotional hold of the dream lingered close to the surface. “Did you ever read his article about it?”

 

“I did,” she said. “It was amazing, and painful. It reminded me of being young, the things I saw before I knew how to deal with them. Julian, sweetie, what happened there wasn't your fault. They needed you. You couldn't go without Jake. No matter how much we want to in life, we can't always protect the people who are important to us from pain or death. Jake isn't dead inside.”

 

“His innocence...” he murmured.

 

“No,” she said more strongly. “Maybe the child in him took a beating and took another step closer to being an adult. He's resilient. He's a lot like his father in that respect. Have you talked to him about it?”

 

He shook his head. “I've been avoiding him, if you want the truth of it. I don't know what to say to him. I feel so guilty.”

 

“I bet if I were to ask him why he hasn't talked to you, I'd hear the same thing,” she said gently. “You should talk to each other. You could help each other deal with this. If it's a recurring dream, it's something your pagh is trying to tell you, something you're ignoring. Guilt has a way of getting a life of its own if you don't deal with it. It can manifest in all kinds of destructive ways.”

 

“I'll think about it,” he said, meaning it and not just trying to put her off. “After we go to Risa.”

 

“What?” she asked, her eyes widening. “When did you make the plans?”

 

“Well, I haven't, exactly. I intended to talk to you about it today, but I got swamped at the infirmary. Dax told me that she and Worf are planning a trip there. They'll be using a runabout. I figured we could hitch a ride, if you think you can get the time off.”

 

“Oh, I'll get the time off,” she said, determined. “Besides, it sounds like you could really use the vacation. I'm really honored you felt like you could come share all of this with me. I know when we broke up, I said a lot of harsh things...”

 

“The things you said were true,” he said quickly. “All of them. I hate that I put you through all of that. I'd hate it even more if we stopped being friends over it, though.”

 

“You'd have a harder time getting rid of me than that,” she said, finally picking up her fork and starting to eat.

 

“Good,” he said, smiling and glancing around the quarters. She hadn't changed things much since his last visit, except that he noticed she had cooking supplies on her sideboard. “When did you take up cooking?” he asked.

 

She beamed. “Oh, I've been doing it for a while now. Aroya is teaching me.”

 

“Odo's Aroya?” he asked.

 

“Well, I don't know if I'd go so far as to say that just yet,” she said, “but yes. The same. She owns the Bajoran restaurant that overlooks the Promenade. You should try it. The food is amazing there and really reasonably priced.”

 

“Too bad you hadn't met her when we were going out,” he teased her lightly.

 

She squinted playfully. “Watch it, you. I'll have you know everything I tried to cook for you was a labor of love.”

 

“I know,” he said, easing a smile. He glanced around again. “I have a question, off topic.”

 

“Sure,” she said, taking another bite and looking at him expectantly.

 

“Where's Kukalaka?”

 

“On my bed,” she said. “Why?”

 

“Well, I was just thinking...you know...since we're not together anymore, I really would like him back,” he said.

 

She opened her mouth in shock and set her fork down. “Julian Subatoi Bashir! That is one of the rudest things you've ever asked me. You gave me that bear. You didn't say you were loaning him to me. You said, and I quote, 'I can't think of anyone else I'd rather have him than you'.”

 

“True,” he said, “but...well, Leeta, he's the only thing I have from my childhood. At the time I said that, I thought we'd be together, so even though he was in your quarters, he was still with me, as well.”

 

“So you weren't really giving him to me, and you lied about that, too?” she demanded, nothing at all playful about her demeanor now.

 

With a sinking feeling, he realized he wasn't going to get anywhere with this. Unless he was prepared to march into her bedroom and take him by force, Kukalaka was lost to him. “No, of course not,” he said softly. “I'm...sorry for offending you.”

 

She settled down and resumed eating her late supper. “If you want to see him you can,” she gave the grudging concession.

 

“No, that's all right,” he said with a sigh. “I need to try to get some sleep. Thanks for listening.” He stood and squeezed her shoulder. “Let me know as soon as you can whether you can get the time off for Risa. Worf and Dax will be leaving in two days. I only just found out about it, or I'd have given you more warning.”

 

“I will,” she said, covering his hand with hers. “I'm really excited about this. It's going to be great for us. You'll see.”

 

“I'm sure it will,” he said, hoping she was right. In that moment, all he felt was sad, and he didn't know if it was for the finality of the parting, losing the only positive connection he had to his childhood, or both. He left her quarters and returned to his, empty and alone, but thankfully no longer disturbed or afraid. He decided he could take some comfort in that.

 

Garak

Holding Cell

 

Having already seen Aroya and Ziyal that day, Garak wasn't expecting more visitors. He looked up from mending a pair of pants for Odo and met Rom's beaming smile with a pleasant one of his own. “What a pleasant surprise,” he said graciously. “Aren't you usually working at this time?”

 

“It's my day off,” Rom said, stepping into the cell when the guard lowered the forcefield for him. He took a seat on the bunk at Garak's gesture and curled a foot beneath a bent knee. “I haven't been by in close to a week. I'm sorry for that. We've been really busy lately, lots of upgrades because of the Klingon war.”

 

“You don't have to apologize to me,” Garak said, setting the work aside. “While it's always a pleasure to receive visitors, it's not something I expect. You seem particularly cheerful today. May I ask why?”

 

“You may,” Rom said with another beam.

 

He didn't always appreciate the man's humor. He did, however, appreciate that he tried. “Very well,” he said, playing along, “why are you so cheerful today?”

 

“I'm glad you asked,” the Ferengi said. “Lots of reasons! First, it's just a few more weeks before Nog comes back from Starfleet Academy. He's doing really well, and they've let him know that he'll be able to serve here for his practicals. Second, Leeta said she'd cook me supper tonight since we both have a night off together! And third...” he paused dramatically, his deep set eyes twinkling, “I just found out about something that might interest you.”

 

“Do tell,” Garak said, enjoying the sensation of basking in his friend's good mood and curious as to what he may have discovered.

 

“There's an upcoming conference on Bajor for a dispassionate view of the Cardassian Occupation. Leeta says that so far Cardassia hasn't expressed any interest in sending a delegate, and the deadline for registration is approaching soon.”

 

“Oh?” Garak said neutrally. He didn't want to put a damper on Rom's ebullience, but he couldn't see what that had to do with him or why Rom would think he cared.

 

“Yep. You'll be done with your sentence by the date of the conference. You'd be able to represent your people. Leeta says they're really interested in hearing the Cardassian viewpoint. It's an opportunity to foster better understanding, exactly the sort of thing the treaty was made for! I think you should register. I can get the forms to you and get them to the proper ministry before the deadline. What do you think?”

 

He gave it some genuine consideration. In light of the conversation he had with Leeta about the occupation, he realized there were probably a lot of misconceptions about Cardassian intent. Much of the worst of the atrocities stemmed from poor management techniques by Legate Kell and his successor, Dukat, the embarrassing pissing contest between the Prefect and Gul Darhe'el just one example of this. Yes, he thought, maybe this is a chance for me to do Cardassia a small service. “I think I'm grateful that you brought this to my attention. Bring me the forms when you're able, and I'll register.”

 

Rom beamed. “Leeta will be happy to hear it. She was so disappointed that Cardassia refused to send anybody. She said it was a slap in the face.”

 

“You've been spending a lot of time with her lately?” Garak asked.

 

“Well, some,” Rom said. “She's really nice.”

 

“Yes, she is,” he said, amused. “Perhaps you should ask her out.”

 

“Not while she's dating Doctor Bashir,” he said. “Besides, what if she doesn't see me that way? I'd just embarrass myself and lose a friend.”

 

It was on the tip of his tongue to let him know the two weren't dating, but it wasn't his place. He knew he'd be furious with anyone who spilled one of his own secrets, so he kept his own counsel on it. “You'll never know until you ask, correct?”

 

“Maybe not, but I can't ask while she's with somebody else. It wouldn't be right. Doctor Bashir doesn't deserve that.”

 

“Your opinion of the good doctor has changed considerably since last we discussed him,” he said, surprised.

 

“I've gotten to know him better,” he said. “He really helped me a lot with the union and my ear infection. And then he was very nice to Brother when Brunt seized all of his assets.”

 

Garak frowned. “Don't remind me,” he muttered.

 

“What?” Rom asked, blinking his confusion.

 

“Nothing,” the Cardassian said with his blandest smile. “Nothing at all. Tell me about your plans for Nog's return. Will you be throwing him a party?”

 

Julian

Risa

 

The planet was everything he had always heard it to be and then some, warm, sweetly scented air, lush green grass underfoot, and relaxed, smiling people wherever he looked. At first he didn't notice it, but Julian found himself breathing more deeply and slowly, from the diaphragm instead of the chest, and the perpetual tension in his back and shoulders loosened beneath the light of the twin suns. He and Leeta hurried away from Worf, Dax, and Quark, ready to explore and try to wring the most they could out of their vacation.

 

Leeta reached to squeeze his hand and leaned in to kiss his cheek. “I'm going off that way,” she said, pointing to a cabana that was a hub of activity. “Meet up with you later tonight?”

 

“Sure,” he said, smiling. Already, he had his sights set on a path through dense foliage and bright flowers that seemed to open up in the distance. He could hear the rhythmic ebb and flow of waves on sand and smell a salt tang in the air. Kicking off his sandals, he bent to grasp them by the straps and let his feet sink almost to the ankles in the cool, thick grass. The grass slowly gave way to soft, shell pink sand that was so fine it felt like powder underfoot. It shifted, forcing his legs and feet to work in unfamiliar ways that were nonetheless extremely pleasant exertion. As soon as he crested a small dune, he saw the turquoise sea spread out before him, darkening to cobalt at the horizon. Smiling to himself, he ran the rest of the way onto the beach then slowed again.

 

A small hut offered over-sized towels, lounge chairs, and broad, pastel colored umbrellas. He stood in the short queue and asked only for a towel. He wanted nothing else between him and the soft, warm sand. He picked a spot with a decent view not only of the beach and sea but several bronze skinned beauties who had the same idea he did about how to spend their afternoon. After spreading out his towel, he stripped down to the bathing trunks he wore beneath his loudly colored pants and settled down on his back. If I never move again, it'll be too soon, he thought.

 

The surf had nearly lulled him to sleep when a soft voice caught his attention. “Excuse me. Excuse me? Are you awake?”

 

He cracked an eye open and turned his head toward the voice. A tan skinned woman with a tumble of black hair smiled at him. She was lying on her stomach, her bathing suit leaving very little to the imagination. “I was wondering if you could do me a favor?” she asked, shaking a small bottle at him in emphasis. “I'll be glad to share if you like. I see you have none.”

 

“I'd be happy to help you,” he said, rolling to his side and coming up on his knees. “You want this on your back?”

 

“Mmhmm,” she said, “and the backs of my legs if it's not too much trouble.”

 

He wished that people would trouble him in such a way more often. “Not at all,” he said, squirting some of the oil into his palms. He liked the scent, although he couldn't place it, a scent he might call unisex, certainly nothing he'd object to smelling like. Rubbing it between his palms first, he spread it evenly over her back, her skin sun warmed and satiny soft. “What's your name?” he asked.

 

“Alyrrha. What's yours?”

 

“Julian,” he said. He filled his palm with more oil and began stroking it down the back of one of her thighs.

 

“Has anyone ever told you that you have amazing hands, Julian?” she asked.

 

He could tell by the small, silvery mark on her forehead that she was Risian, so her flirtation came as no surprise. “As a matter of fact, I do hear that occasionally,” he said. “I'm a doctor.”

 

Pushing her thick curtain of hair and letting it spill sideways, she shot him an arch glance over her shoulder beneath lowered lashes. “It's a shame to think of those hands wasted on anything so clinical. I can think of a better way to spend some time. Interested?”

 

Smiling broader, he said, “You had me at 'excuse me'.”

 

She took him to a low sprawl of a building so close to the sea that the waves nearly lapped its terrace steps. Wide, aesthetically pleasing archways led into the open, breezy common room. The cool stone under his bare feet felt delicious after the warm sand. He couldn't stop himself from gawking at the hanging plants, the statues, and the sparkling wall fountain that tinkled and splashed merrily into a basin filled with brightly colored, lazy fish. “You live here?” he asked, hurrying to catch up to her.

 

“In one of the apartments, yes,” she said, smiling at his reaction. “You've never been to Risa before, have you?”

 

“It's that obvious, is it?” he asked, feeling like the worst sort of tourist.

 

Her smile deepened. “I love meeting newcomers,” she said, drawing him into a hallway lit only by widely spaced skylights. “It's like getting to see the home I love through fresh eyes, and it makes me appreciate it that much more.” They passed through pools of light and shadow, and she opened a door to their right toward the end of the hall.

 

“No lock?” he asked.

 

She rolled a shoulder. “None needed,” she said. “I hope it doesn't make you uncomfortable?”

 

“No,” he said. “Actually, I find it refreshing. Always having to be on guard gets...very tiring.”

 

Taking him by his free hand, she led him through the front room with its low seating and domed ceiling through an open archway to a lovely bedroom with a perfect, unobstructed view of the sea beyond. The large windows were open, letting in fresh air and light and causing all of the pastel, diaphanous curtains to billow gently. She took his folded clothing and sandals from him and set them aside, then molded herself against him, guiding his arms around her waist. “I don't want you to think about anything else tiring or troubling for the rest of the afternoon,” she said. “No one with such beautiful eyes should ever have to look sad.”

 

They didn't quite wreck her round, silks draped bed, but they made a good try of it. She was the perfect remedy for everything that had been ailing him, receptive, inventive, and most importantly genuinely present. She wasn't going through the motions. She wasn't doing a job or fulfilling an obligation. She enjoyed him as much as he did her. She explored him thoroughly, took her time, and he allowed it without a sense of guilt.

 

The light shifted from pure, clear white to golden and slanted long shadows into the bedroom by the time both of them felt sated and drowsy. He settled a hand to the damp curve of her hip and inhaled the soft perfume of her hair partially covering his face. “Thank you, Alyrrha,” he murmured.

 

She tapped light fingers over his chest. “Why are you thanking me?” she asked. “Did you not give me as much pleasure as I you?”

 

“I hope I did,” he said, nestling lower into the soft pillow beneath his cheek.

 

She curved full lips into a gentle smile and kissed the tip of his nose. “You did,” she said. “Are you hungry?”

 

He wasn't until she said something. His stomach suddenly decided to announce that he was famished with a low rumble. “I think that answers that,” he said wryly.

 

“Then I have but one more question,” she said. “Would you like to eat in, or out?”



 

Comments

[jgalt44.livejournal.com]

Bad Leeta. Keeping Kukalaka is just wrong. No wonder the man's having nightmares. You've stolen the bestest nightmare defender in the whole world. A ratty stuffed bear.

They should never put a man as skinny as Bashir in tight tank top. I just rewatched this ep and he's actually smaller than Dax. Poor Leeta looks hefty next to him and she's not.

I liked how you connected needing the peace and quiet on Risa after the difficulty of Ajilon Prime. I cannot image a worse experience for a doctor to hold the twin guilt of triage and endangering Jake. That he should have nothing to feel guilty about doesn't make the guilt any less. Risa would've been a great place to regroup. You know, if a stuffy Klingon with a serious green streak hadn’t messed it up. *glares at Worf*

[dark-sinestra.livejournal.com]

I was really surprised when that episode came up and we discovered that Leeta had kept Kukalaka. I mean, there are gifts from exes it's OK to keep, and there are things you just know to return: his grandmother's bracelet, his parents' bbq grill, his childhood teddy bear! It had to be addressed. Maybe Bajorans see these things differently, though. Good thing for Nog and Jake. hehe

Bashir's outfit on Risa made me cry. I noticed the same thing you did, that Leeta looked chunky with him, and she wasn't a chunky woman. He's just a really, really skinny guy. Had Garak been with him, he wouldn't have let him out the door in that outfit.

Worf needed to be smacked in that episode. I was really surprised there were no official repercussions for him, a Starfleet officer sabotaging a weather grid and endangering lives. Even if the Risans didn't want to press charges, somebody should have said something and gotten him sanctioned.

I also always felt that episodes where really horrible things happened should have at least gotten some mentions in future episodes. Ajilon Prime was a doctor's worst nightmare, but nope. Never mentioned again. I'm glad you liked the connection. It made sense to me. Thanks for the review!