Author Notes: This story takes place before and during Rejoined. Very little dialogue from the episode made it into the story, just one exchange between Julian and a nurse regarding a patient with a broken leg. When watching the show, I always found myself wondering what plans Julian had that Dax strong armed him away from to chaperon her and Lenara for dinner. In some ways, this is my answer to that question.
Summary: In the wake of a tumultuous reunion between two symbionts with new hosts, Dax and Khan, Julian is forced to confront some harsh truths about relationships and what it takes to make them successful. Garak delves deeper into the mystery of what makes the doctor tick and discovers some surprising things about himself and his friendships along the way.
Author: Dark Sinestra
Date Written: March 2010
Category: Slash, Het, angst. Dear gods, lots of angst.
Rating: PG for adult situations and mild adult language.
Disclaimer: Paramount owns. Paramount profits. I write, pilfer, and poke, and all I get is an imaginary t-shirt that I think makes me look a little Cardassian.
Word Count: 18,008
Garak
Private Quarters
Running his comb through his hair one final time, Garak checked his reflection in his full length mirror. He had rejected the tunic that he knew was Julian's favorite. Being obvious had never been his style. Besides, he wasn't going to dinner in order to throw himself at his former lover in front of the man's current love interest. To say that would be poor form would be more than understatement. No, he agreed to this dinner date out of curiosity more than anything else. What did the dabo girl really want, and what did she expect to come of this? He didn't know her well enough to be able to take such a gesture at face value.
He sighed at his reflection, supposing it was unrealistic to expect entire satisfaction with face or figure at his age. The reality was that he was past his prime by at least a decade, more if he was being honest. He looked well put together and respectable in the rich brown tunic with gold accents, a newer piece that he had worn only twice before. He checked the chronometer, picked up the small gift basket sitting on his dining table by its handle, and headed out the door. Barring any distraction along the way, he knew he would arrive at Leeta's quarters about five minutes early, not early enough to be an imposition.
He inclined his head pleasantly to those he passed in the H-ring corridors, some returning the gesture, most not. After years on the station, he was so used to this treatment he hardly noticed it any more. It seemed natural. When he reached the Bajoran woman's door, he gave his tunic a final tug at the hem, shrugged his shoulders so that his sleeve cuffs fell just so, and rang the chime.
“Enter,” came a somewhat tremulous voice.
The door opened, and Garak stepped into a colorful room. Before he could stop himself, he curled his lip. The sharp, acrid stench of burnt food lay thick in the air in a haze of smoke. Leeta, dressed very modestly and looking quite nice, took one look at him and burst into tears. Julian was nowhere to be seen.
For a moment, he felt rooted to the spot. Tears were something he never handled well. It was different in an interrogation, when he knew the reason for them, fear or pain, and had been the one to induce them. However, coming across strong emotional displays unexpectedly threw him off balance, particularly with women. He hoped that she would pull herself together. Instead, she covered her face, sobbing for all the world as though she had just lost everything.
Oh, dear, Garak thought in dismay. Where was Julian? He looked for a place to set the gift basket and settled for a chair against the wall near the door, then closed the distance between them, reluctant to touch her. “Leeta?” he said tentatively.
“I'm sorry,” she choked out between sobs. “I...everything is just...Julian is late, and...oh, Prophets, what a...what a mess!”
Carefully, he reached out a hand and touched her shoulder. “Come now,” he said. “Let's...let's sit down for a moment, shall we?”
She allowed him to guide her to the sofa, sitting turned away from him and starting to wipe her face. “I...really am sorry,” she said in a shaky voice, trying to bring herself under control. “You probably think...I'm an idiot.”
“Of course not,” he said, although he wasn't sure how true that was. “Why don't you tell me what has happened? Perhaps I can be of help?”
“Just great,” she said miserably. “My house guest has to help me.”
“Or not,” he added quickly, terrified she was about to launch into a fresh batch of sobbing. “I...” He struggled for something to say that wouldn't sound inane, staying quiet for too long in the process.
She looked at him finally and swallowed hard. “This is really awkward,” she said, her lips trembling. However, she seemed to be pulling herself back together, no longer outright crying. She sniffed a few times and dabbed at her eyes with her fingers.
“Yes,” he agreed. “I'll find you a napkin.”
She stopped him with a hand to his sleeve. “No,” she said. “I'll do it. You just...sit.”
He did as she said, locking his hands around his knees in a tighter grip than it appeared. Of all of the things that had run through his mind in the past three days, this scenario wasn't one of them. At least she hadn't grabbed him or expected him to hold her. He wasn't entirely sure he wouldn't have outright fled had she done such a thing. He watched her warily as she blew her nose and wiped at her face with her back to him. “I should have just had Julian invite you out to eat with us,” she said, still not facing him. “I'm not a good cook. I never have been.” She blew her nose again.
“I...would have been fine with replicated food,” he ventured.
She turned to face him, tucking her napkin into a balled fist, and shaking her head. “No,” she said. “I mean, maybe you would've, but that's not the point.” She sighed heavily. “Two of the most important people in my life think so highly of you,” she said.
Two? He dipped his brow ridges downward in confusion. “Who?” he asked.
“Julian and Rom,” she said in a tone of voice that made it sound as though she thought he was silly for even having to ask. “They speak of you often, how intelligent you are, how much you know, how much you can do. I...I wanted to do something special.” She looked dangerously close to tears again, reaching up to dab at her eyes. “Nothing went right. I...I didn't even get off shift until almost seven this morning because the latinum tallies didn't work out right, so Quark wouldn't let anyone leave.
“The...the stall was out of katterpods altogether. Well, I couldn't make hasperat without katterpods as a side, so I...I stupidly tried for a soufflé instead. You can smell how well that went. Collapsed and burned, both. Julian called me about ten minutes ago to tell me he'd be tied up at least another hour because somebody came in with plasma burns, and he warned me you wouldn't be late. I thought about calling you, but I didn't want to be rude and cancel at the last minute. I should have.”
He realized that she was actually crying again, just much more quietly and in a more controlled way. He stood and approached her. “Do you know,” he said conversationally, “I've never been able to keep a soufflé from collapsing?”
“Have you ever even tried to make one?” she asked, her warm brown eyes narrowed in a shrewd squint.
He smiled. “Not even once,” he said.
Her smile began tremulously but quickly blossomed into full blown amusement. “You're...awful,” she said, her amusement then shifting to concern. “If you want to leave, I wouldn't blame you.”
“And if I want to stay?” he asked, once more carefully touching her shoulder.
“It would be beyond gracious of you,” she said. “The whole place reeks of burned food. I'm a mess, and who knows when Julian will get here? It's not like we can open a window.”
“We can open the door,” he said. “I can try to fan the worst of it out of here while you freshen up. We can either replicate something or pick up some take out from wherever you like. Besides, I brought wine, and, selfishly, I'd like to have at least one glass of it.”
She took his hand between both of hers and pressed it warmly, offering him another smile, this one more relaxed. “OK,” she said, some strength returning to her voice. “The corkscrew is on the table over there,” she gestured. “Why don't you go ahead and open the wine so it can breathe. I'll open the door so we can breathe, and I'll take your suggestion.”
He saw no guile in her open expression, just simple gratitude and underlying exhaustion that had to be more long term than just one night of lost sleep. He nodded and returned the squeeze, then disentangled himself so that he could do as she said. With the door open, the worst of the smoke dissipated, and his nose adjusted to the smell enough that it didn't phase him much. He took one of the large, colorful napkins and fanned around vigorously, airing out the place to the best of his ability.
So she's close to Rom, he thought. Suddenly, he stopped dead in his tracks, letting out a startled laugh, a realization hitting him hard. He played me, he thought. He actually played me! It made sense, Rom's inexplicable animosity toward Julian, how quickly he had come to Garak to tell him about his flirtation with Leeta, his subsequent siding with him and resentment of Julian. He felt no resentment at the fact, himself. It was his own fault for not looking harder at the Ferengi or truly questioning his motives. His respect for Rom notched higher. He was still chuckling quietly to himself when Leeta came out again, looking much more in control of herself and cleaned up.
“What's so funny?” she asked.
“I just imagined someone walking past your door and spotting me waving this napkin about,” he lied smoothly.
“You've done a wonderful job of clearing the air,” she said, instructing the computer to close the door once more. She hesitated and added, “In more ways than one. Thank you, Garak.”
“What kind of guest would I be if I left you in such straights?” he asked, uncomfortable with her gratitude. He didn't want to like her. She was making that difficult.
She curved a half smile and approached the table, pouring both of them a glass of wine. “Julian mentioned that about you,” she said, turning to hand him his.
“What?” he asked, feeling a little wary and at a disadvantage as he accepted the glass. She was bound to have heard much more about him than he her, at least some of it true.
“That you have a hard time taking credit for the good things that you do,” she said. Before he could think of a response to that, she changed the subject. “So, what will it be, replicator, or take out?”
Julian
The Infirmary
Julian double checked the readings on his patient before finally deciding to turn his care over to the night duty nurse. He had managed to patch the worst of the external damage, but it would be some time before the engineer's lung tissue and sinus cavities fully healed from the terrible burns they had sustained. He had the man heavily sedated and on the best pain medication he could obtain. There truly was nothing else he could do for him at the moment. “If there's any significant change in his condition, call me,” he instructed the nurse.
Of all the nights for something major to go wrong, it just had to be the night that Garak was due for dinner with him and Leeta. He winced to himself as he thought of what she must be going through at the moment. She had sounded on the edge of hysterics when he called her to let her know he'd be late, but he hadn't had time to find out what had happened, if anything. He knew that she was a ball of nerves about the dinner. He couldn't exactly blame her. Garak could be intimidating even to those who knew him well.
He hurried away from the infirmary on his way to the turbolift. He was already an hour and a half late. He hoped that they had decided to eat without him. Otherwise, the soufflé would have already collapsed, and everything would be cold. He had intended to stop by his quarters first so that he could change into something nice. He felt that if he did so now, Leeta might be angry with him for the further delay, and Garak would probably think it was rude. He wondered if Garak was utterly miserable. Leeta wasn't exactly the sort he usually chose to associate with, and if he had any lingering feelings of resentment or jealousy toward her, he would not be enjoying himself. He could also be incredibly snarky.
That thought made him hurry all the more once he stepped off on the correct level. He was jogging by the time he reached her door and keyed in the entry code. He walked in on the sound of mutual laughter and a faint, lingering scent of burnt food. “There you are,” Leeta said, unfurling from her seat at the table to greet him properly.
Garak stood and inclined his head pleasantly. “Good evening, Doctor,” he said.
Leeta gave him a quick hug and kissed his cheek then guided him over to the table with an arm around his waist. “Garak was just telling me about some of his adventures when he was a gardener,” she said. “Did you know he even spent some time on Romulus?”
“Did he now?” he asked, eying Garak a little warily. There was no telling what wild yarns he had been spinning for Leeta's benefit. As he took a seat at the table, he noticed that the food was all in take out boxes. “What happened to the soufflé?” he asked.
Garak shot him a warning look, but it was too late. A little bit of Leeta's good mood deflated. “I ruined it,” she said. “Just like I always ruin anything I try to cook that's harder than mashed katterpods.”
“Soufflés are very overrated,” Garak said. “Think about it. All that effort for what amounts mostly to air. I think it's the effort that makes people assume they're worth eating.”
She smiled warmly at him. “I'm almost one hundred percent sure you're just saying that for my benefit,” she said. “But I'm going to go ahead and believe you, because it's entirely too sweet of you.”
He watched the Cardassian, searching for tell-tale signs of dislike or sarcasm underneath the facade. So far, he could see none, but he didn't entirely trust his observation skills when it came to Garak. He could be extremely convincing when he wished to be. The two seemed comfortable together. Julian helped himself to what remained of the food and the wine. “Did you bring this?” he asked Garak as he poured.
“Indeed,” Garak replied. “I also brought some chocolates, but I'm afraid I ate so much dinner I couldn't possibly have any.”
“This is Leeta's favorite brand of spring wine,” Julian said.
“He asked Quark,” she said, smiling at Garak. “I'm not sure which surprised me more, the fact that he did that, or the fact that Quark knew.”
“He can be very thoughtful,” he said, also smiling at Garak and wondering somewhere in the back of his mind what the catch was.
“He really can,” she said. “It makes me sorry I waited this long to do this.”
“Well,” Garak said, “there's nothing to stop us from doing it again. We almost have to, given the fact that the doctor was held over at work so late.”
“Oh, yes,” she agreed, turning her attention back to Julian. “How is your patient? Did everything go OK?”
“He's stabilized,” he said, the entire moment strangely surreal. He expected tension and discomfort, perhaps false joviality from both of them, not this. How much of that wine had they drunk? Had Garak brought just one bottle? “I think he'll pull through. I have to say, the two of you are making me feel sorry I had to be late. It seems as though you've been having a good time.”
“The evening has been delightful,” Garak said pleasantly, “marred only by your absence. Wouldn't you say, my dear?” he asked Leeta.
“Yes,” she said. “I've been pleasantly surprised.” She turned her attention to Julian. “You know, I really understand now why you have lunch with him as often as you do. He's a marvelous conversationalist.”
“You're entirely too kind,” Garak said.
Julian laughed a little uncomfortably. “Forgive me for saying this, but the two of you are going to make me sick if you keep up this...”
“This what?” Garak asked, blinking at him innocently.
“Yes, what?” Leeta echoed, looking slightly cross.
“Nothing,” he said quickly, shoving in a bite of food so he wouldn't be expected to say more. He gestured for them to continue talking while he ate, actually quite hungry and realizing that if he said anything more along that line, he was going to find himself outnumbered. He also realized that he had been so worried that they wouldn't get along that he hadn't let himself consider how it would be if they did.
After all this time, he still couldn't tell when Garak was spinning tales and when he was telling the truth. While Julian ate, Garak continued telling Leeta of some of his exploits before he ever came to the station. Julian tried to read between the lines, suspecting that many of the mundane and amusing scenarios he described had buried within them clues of what really happened and what he had really been about. He noticed that Garak played to Leeta's interest in sociology. He could hardly be upset with him for being such a good guest, but he couldn't help but to wonder if the amiability hid an ulterior motive.
“Excuse me for just a moment,” she said at a natural lull in the conversation. She stood and wagged a playful finger at both of them. “No talking about me while I'm gone.” She then headed into the washroom.
Julian watched her go and then turned his attention back to Garak. “So,” he said, “enjoying yourself?”
“I am,” he said. “I was sorry you weren't able to have dinner with us, but I've...actually had a good time tonight.” He glanced over his shoulder toward the washroom and back to him. “She's a genuinely nice person,” he said.
“You thought I'd date someone who wasn't?” the doctor asked, amused.
“You did date me,” the tailor retorted with a gratified “gotcha” smile.
Julian shook his head and chuckled. “In the name of diplomacy, no comment.”
“Well, that's no fun at all,” Garak said, still smiling.
He thought of a couple of things he could say to that in return and said neither, surprised that after all this time, there were still moments that Garak could look at him in a certain way and make his breath catch. He was almost positive the Cardassian was aware of it and did it on purpose. By the time he realized they had held eye contact in silence far longer than was appropriate to the circumstances, Leeta returned and broke the moment. “Who wants chocolate?” she asked brightly.
Garak
Leeta's Quarters
He stayed later than he had originally intended. Leeta's second yawn in less than two minutes cued him that it was time to go. “Where has the time gone?” he asked, moving to stand from his seat on the sofa.
“I have no idea,” Leeta said sleepily. She stood at the same time Julian did. “I hate to be the one to ruin the party, but I'm so tired I can hardly see straight. Julian, would you be a dear and walk Garak home?”
“Of course,” the doctor said, hiding his disappointment at being kicked out fairly well. Garak doubted that she saw it.
She leaned up and kissed him good night then closed the distance to Garak and hugged him warmly, whispering in his ear, “Thank you so much for earlier.” He returned the embrace awkwardly and stepped back as soon as she allowed him, unused to such effusiveness. She walked both of them to her door. “Good night, you two. Thanks for a wonderful evening.”
“Thank you,” Garak said graciously. When the door closed, he looked at Julian. “You hardly have to walk me home,” he said. “It's not even on your way.”
“I don't mind,” the doctor said, falling into step beside him. “Besides, it gives me the chance to hear what you really think.”
“As disappointing as this must be for you to learn, in this case, I told you the truth,” he said, amused. “I like her. She's a good woman. You could certainly do much worse.”
“I worried that things wouldn't go well,” Julian confessed. “I know how you can be.” He glanced at Garak.
“Are you trying to pick a fight with me or flirt?” the tailor asked casually without looking at him. “Sometimes, it's difficult for me to tell.” Julian opened his mouth and shut it again, coloring faintly. Garak smirked inwardly. Some things never changed, it seemed. He could still flummox the younger human without much effort. “Either way it doesn't matter,” he continued. “I have no intention of poaching you from that lovely young woman.”
Julian cleared his throat. “You know, I'd actually have a say in the matter,” he said.
They stepped into the turbolift and Garak directed it to his level. “Of course you would,” he said reasonably, still not looking at the doctor. He changed the subject. “I have to admit that I was expecting that you'd stay the night.”
“Sometimes when she's really tired, she has a hard time sharing the bed,” he said.
“Why not seek quarters with a larger bed?” Garak asked.
Julian snorted a laugh. “You and I were together for years and never made such a move. Why do you think I'd be so quick to do it with someone else?”
Why not? Garak thought, finally looking over at him searchingly. Why such distance, even when you're close? It was something he had thought about before, of course, when they were still together. Seeing it from the outside, it seemed stranger than it had in the context of their own relationship, perhaps because he wasn't distracted by his own intimacy issues.
“What's with you and Dax trying to rush me into something?” he asked, looking irritated.
Why are you so desperate to put me off of this? Garak wondered. “Dax is Leeta's friend, is she not?” he asked instead.
“Yes,” Julian said warily.
“Then perhaps it's natural that she'd like to see two of her friends happy together,” he said.
“That doesn't explain you,” the doctor retorted.
“Is it so odd to you that I'd like to see you happy, as well?” he asked, cocking his head slightly.
The turbolift came to a gliding stop, and they stepped off of it, walking side by side at a leisurely pace. Julian looked chastened. “No, I suppose not,” he muttered. “I just don't want to rush things.”
Garak grunted a non comment. He didn't buy that for an instant, not coming from a man he knew usually made romantic decisions with the speed of a sand fly.
Julian stopped walking. “What was that supposed to mean?” he demanded.
“I don't know why you ask me about things you don't want to hear,” Garak said a bit crossly. “I tell you, and then you become angry with me. I've had a pleasant evening. I'd just as soon not end it on that sort of note.” He knew very well from hard experience that if he expressed his observation, Julian would simply find a way to provoke him to genuine anger or find another equally effective way to shut him out. He was tired of that dance, had tired of it well before they broke things off. It was no more attractive from a greater distance. He turned and kept walking.
“I know you mean well,” Julian said, trying to be conciliatory and hurrying to catch up.
“At least there's that,” Garak replied. “As you see, we're now at my door. This is where I should take my leave. Good night, Doctor.”
“Garak, wait,” he said, stopping him with a hand to his forearm. “I don't want you going to bed upset with me.”
Garak looked at his hand until he removed it. He raised his gaze, meeting the concerned umber eyes squarely. “What do you want?” he asked.
“That's...not fair,” Julian said hesitantly.
Garak snorted. “Neither is indecisiveness. When...if...you ever think you're ready to answer that question, I'd like to know. I'm sure Leeta would, too. Why do you think she was so keen to get to know me better? It's not the size of the bed that's the problem, and you know it. Good night, Doctor,” he said more firmly and this time stepped into his quarters and shut the door behind him before Julian could stop him.
He may not know what he wants, Garak thought, but I know what I don't want. I don't want any part of that same old pattern. He had wondered before the dinner if the time had possibly come for them to re-evaluate their friendship and take some steps toward the attraction that had never fully given way. Now he was quite certain that they should not, not while Julian still insisted on holding the entire world at arms' length. If he couldn't let someone as open and guileless as Leeta in, there was no hope of Julian's letting himself be close to him. He was positive of that.
He couldn't deny that he was disappointed, but he wasn't particularly angry. More than anything, he was curious. Perhaps he had never looked at the issue properly, he reflected. He had been so busy trying to find a way around it and feeling hurt and rejected when he couldn't, mostly on a subconscious level, that he never directly questioned why it was, or even what it was. Emotion never solved a problem, he thought. It only serves to cloud the mind. He decided that he'd be spending more time with Leeta in the future. Perhaps she could either directly offer some insight or indirectly give him something to observe. Now that he realized he was onto something, he wasn't going to be quick to let it go. As strange as it was, he recognized that in Leeta he had an ally in this situation. It was going to be interesting to see where it led.
Julian
Habitat Ring
Julian stood outside the closed door, so taken aback by what Garak had just said that at first he could hardly think of what to do. Since when had everyone decided that they knew more about his relationship with Leeta than he did? First Dax, now Garak, what right did they have to lecture him or take him to task, particularly Garak of all people? Indecisive? How was he being indecisive? So what if they had exchanged a few weighted looks over the past few months? They had always done that, even before he was consciously aware there was a mutual attraction. If Garak was under the impression he was trying to lead him on or get something started, well, he was going to have to set him straight about that.
He started walking before consciously deciding where he would wind up. It was a colossally bad idea, a stupid idea of epic proportions, yet he couldn't stop himself. The one person who always managed to make him feel better in situations like this was Miles. Besides, he still owed him a real apology and clearing of the air. This was as good of a time as any to do that. Miles was almost always still awake this time of night.
He hailed him and waited for him to answer. The answer was a little slow in coming. When the door opened, it revealed a somewhat disheveled engineer rubbing sleep out of his eyes. “Julian?” he asked. “What're you doin' here? 'S after midnight. Is everythin' OK? Is it Tommy?”
“Tommy?” he asked, frowning. “Oh, you mean Ensign Powers. No, no, it's nothing like that. His condition is stable.” He felt selfish now, peering into the bleary hazel eyes and realizing he had managed to drive all thoughts of sleep away from the man who took any accidents under his watch very seriously and personally.
Miles stepped back from the door and gestured him in absently, heading over to the replicator to order himself a cup of coffee. “Y' want somethin'?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder.
Julian shook his head, smiling slightly as he stepped inside and took a seat in one of the deep leather chairs in the living room. “I suppose I thought you'd still be awake,” he said by way of apology. “You often are at this time.”
“I know,” he said, turning and bringing his coffee with him to the sofa. “Just crashed and burned tonight after cleaning up that plasma leak. I still don't know how it happened,” he muttered, scrubbing a hand through his tangled curls. “What can I do for you?”
“I haven't enjoyed...being at odds,” he said hesitantly, glancing at him uncertainly.
“You 'n me, both,” Miles said, looking understandably wary.
“I know why you did what you did,” he pressed on past his discomfort. He felt that he owed it to the friendship.
“You do?” the engineer asked, looking even warier.
Oh, God, he thought, suddenly alarmed. Stop right there, Jules. You're heading into dangerous territory. He was glad he had only had two glasses of spring wine before arriving. “Yes,” he said a little too quickly. “You saw it for the dangerous situation it was and saved me from my tendency to think like a doctor, even in tactical situations.”
O'Brien grunted softly. “Well,” he said, “it's not like I enjoyed doin' that to you.”
“I know,” he said, closing his eyes briefly. When he opened them, he smiled. “So, we're OK again? On for darts and all that?”
“If you like,” Miles said, returning the smile and seeming to relax. “It's been a little borin' tryin' t' play on my own. Hasn't caught on like I hoped it would at Quark's.”
“I know. I wonder why that is,” he speculated. “I suppose it doesn't matter.” He found himself lapsing quiet. Perhaps this truly hadn't been the best of ideas in his current mood. He felt restless, irritated, and more than a little put out, not just by Garak but by how often Leeta sent him packing instead of letting him stay. Garak was wrong; he was sure of it. Leeta wasn't worried about him as competition. If she felt any strange distance between herself and Julian, it was something else, something worse. He sighed.
Miles sipped his coffee and tilted his head. “What's got a bee in your bonnet tonight?”
“Leeta wanted to have Garak to dinner. I wound up being late,” he said glumly.
Miles winced. “How bad was it? He had her in tears by the time you got there, didn't he?”
“No,” he said. “They got along famously. It was...disturbing,” he added, widening his eyes.
“You'd better watch that,” the engineer advised, shaking a thick finger at him. “Nothin' worse than an ex an' a current gettin' all cozy. That's trouble. When that ex is Garak, I shouldn't have to tell you how much worse that can be.”
“Dax seems to think I'm still carrying a torch for him,” he said, testing the waters.
“Bollocks,” Miles snorted.
He knew that was meant to make him feel better, yet it didn't. He believed that the only reason Miles said or believed such was because of how much he disliked Garak and simply didn't want Julian to be with him. He scowled without realizing it.
“What?” Miles asked, sitting forward and setting his coffee mug on the coffee table. “Y' mean she's right?”
“What? No, of course not!” he protested.
“Then why the sour face?” he demanded.
“I know you don't like him. I wish...I just wish things weren't always so complicated,” he said, exasperated. “Dax and Garak should just mind their own business.”
“What'd Garak do?” he asked.
“Forget I said anything. I'm just making things worse. I came here to patch things up with you, not to dump my relationship woes in your lap.”
“Are you kiddin'? As much as you listen t' me belly achin' about Keiko, I feel like I owe you,” Miles said, chuffing a laugh.
“You love her,” he said a bit wistfully.
“Of course I do. She's my wife,” he said, sounding almost defensive for a moment, as though he was invested in convincing either Julian or himself of the fact.
“I wish...I wish I loved someone like that,” Julian said with a sigh. I wish that I could. It was a perpetual conundrum, his craving for intimacy at war with his inability to maintain it. Secrets such as his didn't allow room for the sort of commitment Miles exhibited toward Keiko, even with his divided loyalties.
“When you're ready for it, it'll come to you,” Miles reassured him. “You're a good man. You just have other priorities right now. There's nothin' wrong with that.”
“I suppose,” he said. He decided that he had imposed enough on his friend for one night. Spreading misery wasn't something he ever wanted to develop as a habit. “I think I'm heading to bed. It has been a long day in more ways than one.”
Miles nodded and stood with him, draping a casual arm across his shoulders, or was it so casual? Julian couldn't be sure. He walked with him toward the door. “I think you'll feel better in th' mornin' with some sleep under your belt,” he said. “Don't let Dax get t' you. She's too nosy for her own good. Ultimately, you're th' one who decides what's goin' on in your life, not people on th' outside lookin' in. If you knew how many people constantly predicted that me 'n Keiko were on the verge of divorce, you'd see how ridiculous that sort of gossip really is.”
Julian decided not to tell him that sometimes he was one of those people who felt that way. The only difference was that he respected Miles enough to keep his mouth shut about it. He gave him a closed lipped smile and clapped him on the back. “You're right,” he said. “Sorry for awakening you.”
The Irishman smiled and clapped him back. “Door's always open t' you. You know that. Night, Julian.”
“Good night,” he said, stepping out and not feeling any better whatsoever. He was being selfish using Miles like that, taking advantage of how he felt so that he could dump his problems on him any time he was out of sorts and no one else was available. It didn't matter that the engineer was sincere when he said it wasn't an imposition. He knew in his heart of hearts that someone who was just a friend and nothing more wouldn't put up with that behavior from him, not to the frequency and extent that Miles did. “You're a lousy friend,” he muttered to himself, heading back to his empty quarters at last. He had nowhere else to go.
Over the next several days, he tried to put some of the concerns raised by the dinner behind him without too much success. It didn't help matters at all that suddenly Garak and Leeta were seeing quite a bit of each other. True, it usually involved Rom, too, the three of them taking lunch or simply spending a little time in the Replimat before Leeta and Rom had to go to work. Rom's presence made him feel as though he couldn't join them, even when he had time to spare. It was no secret that the Ferengi didn't like him. He tolerated Rom's thinly veiled hostility only because he was Leeta's friend, and he knew that the two of them openly at odds would stress her more than she already was from her work environment. What was Garak about? He couldn't accept the situation at face value. There was no way that Garak had just suddenly decided that someone he always claimed to find a little vapid was stimulating company after all. Leeta's attitude toward him hadn't changed, though. She wasn't behaving strangely or secretively. No, whatever Garak was doing, it wasn't direct sabotage. Probably.
At least Dax had let up on nagging him about his relationship. Perhaps she truly did feel bad about making him angry, or perhaps she was simply gathering more ammunition before trying to come at him from a different angle. With her it was always so difficult to tell. Sometimes she could be doggedly focused to the point it bordered on obsession. She would then be just as quick to drop something never to mention it again. He had come to chalk these tendencies up to the mystery that was Jadzia Dax.
Her magic tricks in Quark's bar one night took him by delighted surprise. He never knew when he'd get to see yet another facet of past hosts surfacing in her mercurial nature. He rightly guessed the influence to be that of Tobin, the quiet, socially awkward host Miles had briefly hosted during the ritual. Unfortunately, Sisko called her away before he could see more sleights of hand, the results of which left Quark confused and irritated, always a plus.
He watched the Ferengi bartender pick at his ear for nearly a half hour, likely in the hopes of finding another strip of latinum. He would never tell Jadzia that he could follow what she had done with her hands or how he had seen it all. That would reveal his own brand of prestidigitation. No good magician ever reveals his tricks, he thought, some of his good mood slipping.
Dax returned to the bar, looking much more subdued than when she left. She seemed to debate with herself before coming over to join him again. All thoughts of his own issues fled at the sight of the expression on her face. He leaned his head close to hers when she arrived, murmuring, “What is it?” She shot a quick glance at Quark. He seemed distracted. That was no guarantee that he actually was. Julian understood instantly. She didn't want him overhearing. Settling a hand lightly to the small of her back, he led her away from the bar and walked her over to an empty table. They sat so close together, their knees touched.
She glanced around again before speaking. “There's a science mission coming here from Trill,” she said softly, a distant look in her pale blue eyes and her fingers laced loosely on the table top, twisting and fidgeting. She glanced at Julian. “One of the team members used to be my wife. Torias' wife,” she corrected herself quickly. “Khan was the symbiont of Torias' wife.”
He thought of what he knew of Trill society and the strict laws guiding associations formed in the past. “Oh,” he said, concerned. He covered both of her hands with one of his own. “Are you going to be all right? Do you think you should...I don't know, take some time off while they're here?”
She smiled slightly, twisting one of her hands beneath his so that it was palm up and she could give him a light squeeze. “Benjamin gave the same offer,” she said. “I'll be OK. The news just took me by surprise.”
“Are you sure?” he asked. He didn't know how much attachments carried from life to life, but he had to imagine it could be problematic if they had developed an entire codex of laws to govern the situation. “What...happens if the two of you...you know. Get close again?”
“We'd be exiled from Trill,” she said simply, meeting his gaze.
He jerked slightly, taken aback. “But if that happened...”
“Yes,” she said. “Both symbionts would die when we died.” She paused and gave him a softer smile. “Which is why you don't have to worry. I'm not stupid. I have no intention of throwing my life, Dax's life, away over this. It may be awkward and a little painful, but I'll handle it.”
He gave her a searching look. “Well,” he said finally, “if you need someone to talk to, you know I'll be here for you.”
“Yes, I do,” she said, standing suddenly and leaning in to kiss his cheek. “I have a little research to do before calling it a night. Thank you, Julian. I'll see you in the morning.”
He watched her walk away, his stomach slightly tight with vague anxiety. He hoped that she was right about her ability to handle the situation. After seeing how quickly she could fall in love when the conditions were right, he was far from certain, himself. Fall in love with anyone but you, he thought a little glumly. He wondered if he would ever fully get over his attraction to her any more than he would his attraction to Garak. Always drawn to the people most likely to see right through you, he thought. Where's the logic in that? He shook his head and stood, tired of the bar noise and ready for bed. It would be much better to sleep than to stew. Stewing just got him into trouble.
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