Chapter Text
Julian can now say with some confidence that the truth does not set anyone free. At least not when that truth is that he shouldn’t exist, that he’s a project his mother and father made because their real son didn’t quite measure up to what they wanted. Julian sighs and wraps his arms around Kukalaka tightly, trying to hold on to some vestige of his life before. Before everyone knew he was a fraud. Before he did. Julian knows he’s being a coward; his closest friends haven’t changed how they look at him.
But when he goes to the replimat, he sees the looks of fear and disillusionment, hears the whispers of “freak” he shouldn’t be able to across the room. Suddenly all the food tastes curdled.
****
“My dear Doctor, do all humans eat their food as … voraciously as you?” Garak asks as the ridges on his forehead lift up in an imitation of human shock, expression grim save for the mirth in his eyes. Julian let’s his arm dangle in mid air, spoon slowly lowering back to his pudding. He supposes he was eating rather quickly, but something about the way Garak says ‘voraciously’ makes heat spread through his cheeks. “Or is just because you’re starving from spending too many hours locked away in that infirmary of yours?”
“ I’m sorry I missed our last few lunches, Garak.” Julian tells him with a wide grin, glancing over at Garak fondly even as he tries to tease him. There aren’t many people in Julian’s life - here or otherwise - who’d miss him at all. Certainly not only after a few weeks. Garak makes him feel like there might be something to want about him, not just the gifts and skills that were implanted into him.
“Don’t think anything of it, Doctor,” Garak answers back, and Julian doesn’t think he’s imagining the hint of fondness that he hears in his voice. Garak takes a sip of his drink as though to wash it out of his throat, glancing at Julian and then back down at his plate thoughtfully. “You just seemed hungrier than usual and I didn’t want to think Starfleet was overworking you.”
“I suppose you would know the dangers of hunger better than anyone, I’m sure there were times in the past where you had to go days without eating while tracking someone.” Julian wiggles his eyebrows in a way he knows is ridiculous as he takes a sip of his tea. Garak meets his gaze steadily, smirking a little as he slides his hand across the table. The edge of his nails brush against Julian’s hand and he suddenly has the odd thought that he’d like to feel them against his back.
“Doctor, I have no idea what you mean.” Garak promises him as he gives his hand a light squeeze, and there’s something to the twist of his lips that makes Julian forgive every lie without Garak ever having to ask. Garak pulls his hand back and does a futile glance around the room, as though trying to figure out which glares directed his way are because of Julian’s words and which are just because of who he is. Then, as though that never happened, he turns back to Julian with a smile too wide to be real. “Now I think you were going to try and convince me to read something called ‘A Tale Of Two Cities’.”
****
It isn’t just the replimat that’s been lost to him though, but a sense of belonging. Julian hasn’t had a real home since he was 15 (and even before that, there was always an uneasy sense he was more of a prize than a child). Then he’d finally carved out a destiny for himself, a tiny bit of space where he belonged. And just like that, one mistake and it was all gone.
Not gone the way Julian expected, he hasn’t lost his license or been locked up to be studied in some institution where they’ll figuratively and literally pick apart his brain. Julian hugs Kukalaka a little tighter to him, pulling his knees closer to his chest as he swallows painfully. No, things aren’t nearly that dire. He still has his job and Starfleet, he never lost Miles at all.
But things are different now. People don’t wave at Julian in the hallway as much anymore. There are patients who refuse to be seen by him and others who insist on it so they can size him up and try to find the tells that he’s not quite human. Cold stares every time he throws a dart at Quark’s. And this morning, he had to furiously scrub “Mutant” off his door before Miles could see and Tell Odo. He understands a little better now why Garak clung to that wire for so long.
****
Julian watches Garak’s face as the other man slowly comes back from sleep, lips twisting into a snarl as another wave of memories hit him. Julian can’t tell if they’re from today or from decades ago, if it’s the stares or screams of the Bajorans that haunt his lover. He’s too much of a coward to ask. Instead he brushes his fingertips along the ridges on Garak’s neck until the other man opens his eyes, still a bright blue even in the darkness of his quarters.
“I can help you, if you let me.” Julian murmurs without explanation, but he knows from the way Garak looks away from him and out at the stars that he knows what Julian means. Julian let’s out a low sigh and curls further onto Garak’s chest, his other hand tracing constellations from earth into the skin of Garak’s arm.
Maybe if he can put a little piece of himself into Garak, he can understand him better, know him the way Garak doesn’t want him to no matter how many times they end up like this together.
“Not that I’m objecting, but I think you’ve already done plenty, my dear.” Garak says in a slightly raspy voice, resting his right hand rather pointedly on Julian’s bare chest. Julian snorts and brings his hand down from where he was still finishing Áquila in the crease of Garak’s elbow to bat Garak’s hand away, though he gives in rather quickly when the other man entangles their fingers together instead.
“No, I mean I know some therapeutic techniques.” Julian whispers softly into Garak’s ear as he leans forward, a part of him afraid of seeing whatever emotion is swirling in those blue eyes now. Garak doesn’t say anything, makes no movement and Julian opens his mouth to further explain what he means when he finds himself silenced by soft lips pressing against his own. Julian melts underneath them, fight going out from him the moment Garak’s fingers scrape against his hair. Still, he can’t let Garak have the last word. “You can’t just kiss me to shut me up every time I say something you don’t like.”
“Trust me, if I did that you wouldn’t talk half as much.” Garak answers him with a smile that’s far too polite to be real, and Julian should have known he’ll never get the last word with Garak. Garak leans over and kisses his forehead, touch feather light before he pulls away and looks at Julian like he’s something precious. It makes his heart twist in his chest with the lie of it all. “Don’t worry yourself, Julian, I’ve survived my exile this far. I’ll keep surviving.”
“You have me, even if my face is smug.” Julian promises and he seals it with a kiss, too hard and long for this early in the morning, hands going back to trace the rest of those stars against Garak’s arms. He can’t - Garak won’t let him - offer anything but himself, so that has to be enough, he has to make it enough. If he can be good enough for Garak then maybe … maybe they won’t keep this behind closed doors anymore, maybe Garak will share truths with him, and maybe Julian can share his own too. Maybe neither of them will have to be lonely at all, if he can just be enough.
“I thought you said you didn’t take anything I said then seriously.” Garak mumbles after a beat, tugging at Julian’s hair until he finally sits up with a low groan. He knows from the way Garak is looking anywhere but at him that he needs to leave soon, make his way back to his own room before anyone can wonder where he is or who he’s with. Julian swallows the bitter acid that makes rise in his throat, but it gets caught halfway when Garak speaks again. “But your smug face is far preferable to the other glances I get, Julian. Never worry about that.”
Julian could spend a 1000 years analyzing nothing but Garak, and the man would still never stop confusing him.
****
And then there’s the fear. From others, sure. He can see the way people flinch when he moves just a little too fast, knows that Worf isn’t asking him to arm wrestle out of friendliness but as a test, and he sees the way even Jadzia’s gaze flickers away from him whenever the math he does in his head is just a bit too complicated.
None of that measures up to his own fears though. He’s held them inside much longer - since he was a child - but everyone else seeing the truth, looking at him the way he knows he deserves makes them impossible for Julian to bury. Any day now he could wake up furthered changed, mutated, be triggered into another Khan. Julian used to try and convince himself he didn’t have it in him, that there was no Mr. Hyde lurking beneath his Dr. Jekyll.
Then Garak asked him to shoot him and Julian knew that wasn’t true anymore, even if Garak didn’t.
****
“Garak! What a surprise given that I didn’t even hear the door chime.” Julian calls as the other man walks into his living room like he belongs there - and God knows Julian wishes that were true -though he gazes at his couch as though it’s done something to personally offend him. Julian pushes the thought away and grins lightly at Garak, walking towards the doorway as though to block the other man from coming any further. His gaze is amused and desperate all at once when he meets Garak’s eyes. “But I suppose you have your ways of getting around a lock.”
“You’ve been avoiding me.” Garak answers coolly, voice lacking any of the mocking kindness Garak usually has when they play this game. Julian knows that isn’t a good sign and he doesn’t struggle when Garak pushes past him, too unsure where this is going to fight it. Garak has never treated him like something serious before and Julian has no idea what it means.
“You’re being paranoid, just like a spy.” Julian finally mutters as he walks past where Garak stands in his living room, gaze impassive as Julian walks circles around him and wrings his hands. Julian swallows harshly when he feels Garak’s hand on his shoulder, holding him still and grounding him even when the thing terrifying him is Garak. Except no, it’s not Garak. It’s what Garak reminded him of. “Garak, we had lunch together a few days ago.”
“Maybe, but you haven’t come to my bed in three days,” Garak says plainly, though there’s a hint of a spark in his gaze for a moment that sends a rush of heat down Julian’s spine. Julian drops his eyes to the floor, and then looks back up, gaze locking on to the place where Garak’s shoulder met his neck. The skin is a mockingly smooth grey and Julian can feel his stomach churning.
“Maybe I’m just not as insatiable as you think.” Julian rolls his shoulders, trying to dislodge Garak’s hand. He could pull away from him easily if he wanted to, could get away from anyone on this ship and isn’t that the scariest part of all? That if Julian … if he wanted to … no one could stop him.
“At least tell better lies, dear.” Garak whispers against his skin as he shifts so they’re closer together, his lips brushing against the shell of Julian’s ear. Julian trembles under his touch, closing his eyes rather than face whatever he sees in Garak’s eyes. Julian knows he doesn’t deserve it without even having to look. When he finally does open his eyes again, Garak gazes at him like he’s a puzzle that he just found a new piece of. “You’re afraid.”
“Not of you.” Julian promises as he rests a hand against Garak’s cheek, giving him a smile that’s almost as weak as he feels. Julian can practically see the sigh Garak is holding in at that trust, the disappointment. But how could Julian ever trust Garak less than himself? Garak’s lies are all in stories, mere words floating through the air and evaporating into nothing. Julian’s are coded into his DNA.
“Julian, I’m the one you shot and I’m still less afraid of you than I am of a tribble.” Garak scoffs as he rests a wide hand over where Julian’s rests on his cheek, smile a little softer than usual as he presses their foreheads together. He gazes at Julian with something Julian would almost think was trust, if he didn’t know Garak better than that. Still, it’s enough to put cracks in what’s left of his defenses.
“You should ask Worf about tribbles, they can be very dangerous.” Julian murmurs against Garak’s lips, breath warm against the cool skin. Garak laughs, warm and bright and then they’re kissing, Julian’s fingers drawing the Big Dipper over where the bullet scraped Garak’s neck.
****
Julian waits for more of Garak’s honeyed assurances and gentle touches, or for his cutting remarks but warm gaze as he teases, jealousy that Julian kept this much from him for so long mixed with pride that he was able to at all. Sometimes he even imagines that Garak will come and sit on the edge of his bed with a wry grin, as though he thinks Julian a fool for thinking he didn’t already know.
Julian doesn’t expect this to be when Garak stops coming at all.