DD9 - Post-Christmas conclusion [7/7]
Dec. 30th, 2013 12:43 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seikilosTitle: The Summer Sun in Winter
Fandom: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Fluff/AU
Rating & Warnings: PG
Words: This part 969, 15 114 overall
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.
Summary: Julian has spent the last six months working as a doctor at a hospital in Andor. Now he's home for the holidays, to the joy of all of his friends--but especially Garak. This chapter: Julian and Garak's time together comes to an end, but their gifts to each other aren't quite complete yet.
Author's Notes: And here we are, at the end of the month and at the end of these two's time together. Thank you very much to everyone who's read along--it's been lovely sharing the holiday with you this year.
As a heads up, since I spent pretty much all my time on this for the last couple of months, there'll be a bit of a gap before I'm able to post my next fic. I have lots of stuff waiting in the wings that needs only to be dictated and polished, but finding time to do as much is easier said than done.
Until then, may 2014 be the best year ever for everyone, and I look forward to seeing you all with a fresh batch of fics in the new year. <3
(7)
The few days after Christmas before Julian was due to return to Andor went by cruelly fast. In that time, they found as many excuses as possible to touch each other, would have irritated each other getting completely underfoot if they hadn't been so aware of their imminent separation.
The morning of Julian's departure, it was snowing again, just a few thin flakes, as he and Julian brought out the luggage to the car. Finishing up their last-minute preparations, they chatted, teased, and flirted as they always did, but beneath their words lay the knowledge that their time together was coming to a close.
They stopped to pick up both Dax sisters this time; Ezri's shift at Deep Dish Nine wasn't until the afternoon. Jadzia and Ezri more than kept up the conversation with Julian, which was just as well: the farther Garak drove, the more he wanted to simply absorb this last moment, rather than participate.
Though they made it to the airport well in advance of the recommended arrival time, Julian elected to go through security early all the same. Given that they couldn't follow (not unless they all wanted to go to Andor with him), the ropes and pylons that contained the waiting lineup of Julian's fellow travellers formed the backdrop of their parting.
Both sisters hugged Julian tight. When it came to his turn, however, Garak silenced the inner voice demanding he remain aloof, and he kissed him.
It was light and brief—they had already made their true goodbyes in private—but all the same, as he stepped away and let his arms fall back to his sides, there was a sort of wonder in Julian's face. He knew what that had cost.
Then, somewhat awkwardly, Julian gave them one last smile and a few more well-wishes, picked up the handle of his rolling suitcase, and joined the lineup. It was a separation as sure as if his flight had already left, and so the three of them departed from the airport to begin the quieter trip back to the city.
*
In the middle of their Airpe call the following evening, Julian said suddenly, casually, "I looked up the cufflinks in my book."
"Did you?" Garak asked, and though his own unconcerned tone sounded far more natural, it was just as much of a front as Julian's.
He watched Julian fidget with something just out of view of the webcam. "I did. Yes."
A circle with a single twist, known to the mathematical world as a Möbius strip and known to the Cardassians as an important symbol of joining. Two parts coming together, retaining their distinctness, but together forming an unending whole.
"I . . . read that they make rings like that in Cardassia," Julian carefully went on.
"They do, yes," he said, not committing to anything more.
A silence. Then Julian thanked him once again for the gift and the conversation, after a pause, moved to safer ground.
*
A week later: "Garak, the note you gave me is gibberish!"
The aggravations of his day were at once forgotten at the sweet sound of Julian's exasperation. "Oh? Is it, now?"
"Here, look, this is what I got when I translated it—you tell me this isn't gibberish!"
Garak watched with delight as Julian consulted something he couldn't see and typed his translation into the chatbox.
"There."
Garak checked the message, then said with mildness meant to infuriate, "That looks accurate to me."
Julian looked as if he wanted to reach through the screen and strangle him. "You can't possibly have given me nonsense for Christmas!"
"You're right." He beamed. "I haven't." When his only response was silence, he added, "Did I ever say the translation would be a single step?"
*
For a few weeks afterward, every evening that he logged onto Airpe, he expected to see a triumphant Julian flapping at the camera a piece of paper with the cracked code scrawled over it. But Julian said nothing, even acting as though he had forgotten about it.
But he couldn't have. Julian was voraciously curious, and while the demands of his work were great, surely he would have found time somewhere.
He hadn't lost interest, had he?
*
Picking up the mail from his box was a necessary chore, one he was entirely indifferent to. The only mail he ever received was either bills or advertisements—hardly the sort of thing to inspire eagerness.
So when he pulled out an envelope addressed by hand, it took him a moment to register the sight. But then his brain shouted at him that this was Julian's handwriting, and with that, he rushed back downstairs, all forgotten save his need to open the envelope and read what Julian had written him.
For a brief moment, he thought that Julian had played some sort of prank on him: the envelope appeared empty. But there—tucked against the bottom seam was a long, thin slip of paper.
With careful haste, he dug it out, opened it. Held his breath quite without being aware of it.
The message was brief and in coded Kardasi. It wasn't strictly grammatical and the letters had the look of something drawn, not written. Neither fact mattered, because the instant he decoded the message, it left him standing in the middle of his silent apartment, that precious paper pressed against his heart.
He kept it with him for the rest of the day. That night, he left it on his bedside table so that it would be the first thing he saw in the morning.
There it stayed, all winter long.
*
My dear Julian: you are my summer sun, bringing life to each cold winter day.
My dear Elim: I no longer feel Andor's winds, because when I go outside, I wrap myself in you.
Fandom: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Fluff/AU
Rating & Warnings: PG
Words: This part 969, 15 114 overall
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.
Summary: Julian has spent the last six months working as a doctor at a hospital in Andor. Now he's home for the holidays, to the joy of all of his friends--but especially Garak. This chapter: Julian and Garak's time together comes to an end, but their gifts to each other aren't quite complete yet.
Author's Notes: And here we are, at the end of the month and at the end of these two's time together. Thank you very much to everyone who's read along--it's been lovely sharing the holiday with you this year.
As a heads up, since I spent pretty much all my time on this for the last couple of months, there'll be a bit of a gap before I'm able to post my next fic. I have lots of stuff waiting in the wings that needs only to be dictated and polished, but finding time to do as much is easier said than done.
Until then, may 2014 be the best year ever for everyone, and I look forward to seeing you all with a fresh batch of fics in the new year. <3
The few days after Christmas before Julian was due to return to Andor went by cruelly fast. In that time, they found as many excuses as possible to touch each other, would have irritated each other getting completely underfoot if they hadn't been so aware of their imminent separation.
The morning of Julian's departure, it was snowing again, just a few thin flakes, as he and Julian brought out the luggage to the car. Finishing up their last-minute preparations, they chatted, teased, and flirted as they always did, but beneath their words lay the knowledge that their time together was coming to a close.
They stopped to pick up both Dax sisters this time; Ezri's shift at Deep Dish Nine wasn't until the afternoon. Jadzia and Ezri more than kept up the conversation with Julian, which was just as well: the farther Garak drove, the more he wanted to simply absorb this last moment, rather than participate.
Though they made it to the airport well in advance of the recommended arrival time, Julian elected to go through security early all the same. Given that they couldn't follow (not unless they all wanted to go to Andor with him), the ropes and pylons that contained the waiting lineup of Julian's fellow travellers formed the backdrop of their parting.
Both sisters hugged Julian tight. When it came to his turn, however, Garak silenced the inner voice demanding he remain aloof, and he kissed him.
It was light and brief—they had already made their true goodbyes in private—but all the same, as he stepped away and let his arms fall back to his sides, there was a sort of wonder in Julian's face. He knew what that had cost.
Then, somewhat awkwardly, Julian gave them one last smile and a few more well-wishes, picked up the handle of his rolling suitcase, and joined the lineup. It was a separation as sure as if his flight had already left, and so the three of them departed from the airport to begin the quieter trip back to the city.
In the middle of their Airpe call the following evening, Julian said suddenly, casually, "I looked up the cufflinks in my book."
"Did you?" Garak asked, and though his own unconcerned tone sounded far more natural, it was just as much of a front as Julian's.
He watched Julian fidget with something just out of view of the webcam. "I did. Yes."
A circle with a single twist, known to the mathematical world as a Möbius strip and known to the Cardassians as an important symbol of joining. Two parts coming together, retaining their distinctness, but together forming an unending whole.
"I . . . read that they make rings like that in Cardassia," Julian carefully went on.
"They do, yes," he said, not committing to anything more.
A silence. Then Julian thanked him once again for the gift and the conversation, after a pause, moved to safer ground.
A week later: "Garak, the note you gave me is gibberish!"
The aggravations of his day were at once forgotten at the sweet sound of Julian's exasperation. "Oh? Is it, now?"
"Here, look, this is what I got when I translated it—you tell me this isn't gibberish!"
Garak watched with delight as Julian consulted something he couldn't see and typed his translation into the chatbox.
"There."
Garak checked the message, then said with mildness meant to infuriate, "That looks accurate to me."
Julian looked as if he wanted to reach through the screen and strangle him. "You can't possibly have given me nonsense for Christmas!"
"You're right." He beamed. "I haven't." When his only response was silence, he added, "Did I ever say the translation would be a single step?"
For a few weeks afterward, every evening that he logged onto Airpe, he expected to see a triumphant Julian flapping at the camera a piece of paper with the cracked code scrawled over it. But Julian said nothing, even acting as though he had forgotten about it.
But he couldn't have. Julian was voraciously curious, and while the demands of his work were great, surely he would have found time somewhere.
He hadn't lost interest, had he?
Picking up the mail from his box was a necessary chore, one he was entirely indifferent to. The only mail he ever received was either bills or advertisements—hardly the sort of thing to inspire eagerness.
So when he pulled out an envelope addressed by hand, it took him a moment to register the sight. But then his brain shouted at him that this was Julian's handwriting, and with that, he rushed back downstairs, all forgotten save his need to open the envelope and read what Julian had written him.
For a brief moment, he thought that Julian had played some sort of prank on him: the envelope appeared empty. But there—tucked against the bottom seam was a long, thin slip of paper.
With careful haste, he dug it out, opened it. Held his breath quite without being aware of it.
The message was brief and in coded Kardasi. It wasn't strictly grammatical and the letters had the look of something drawn, not written. Neither fact mattered, because the instant he decoded the message, it left him standing in the middle of his silent apartment, that precious paper pressed against his heart.
He kept it with him for the rest of the day. That night, he left it on his bedside table so that it would be the first thing he saw in the morning.
There it stayed, all winter long.
My dear Julian: you are my summer sun, bringing life to each cold winter day.
My dear Elim: I no longer feel Andor's winds, because when I go outside, I wrap myself in you.
