The Dominion War took a toll on Julian, though not in any way that he would have thought. The long tours of duty, the bloody mess of names of friends, and friend's friends, on the casualty list now seemed like it was part of a past that was assigned to him. While other's struggled to piece together their broken lives, the toll the Dominion War took on Julian was a merely serious relationship he was far from prepared for but blindly accepted, and a grudging tolerance of a daily routine he no longer wanted.
The war had changed Julian Bashir, and he knew that it had when every morning he would awake to Ezri brushing her hair, already dressed and ready for the day. She would always smile sweetly, kiss him on the forehead, and leave just as soon as he would convince himself to get up and out of bed. He never thought that he would be a part of such… he didn't really know how to put it, but normalcy seemed the closest approximation.
It wasn't that he didn't like Ezri. No, he loved her in his own way. His heart may have been fickle when it came to choosing just one, but he always loved, and loved easily. Even though she was Dax, she was still Ezri, and Ezri, despite her past lives, now preferred a quiet life. She had learned to deal with the eccentricities of her unwanted symbiote by suppressing them altogether.
It seemed to Julian, in retrospect, it wasn't necessarily Jadzia or Ezri he was in love with, but the worm that resided in their bellies, and even then, he wasn't so sure.
One morning, the routine was broken. Ezri gently shook him awake. "Julian, there's a message for you in the console. It's from Garak."
It took Julian a few moments to process the thought while Ezri kissed him on the forehead and left the room.
The message both thrilled and terrified him. He and Garak had not parted on the most amicable of terms, so he tended more to the side of terrified. He had always supposed that their friendship was yet another toll the Dominion War had taken. He missed his lunches filled with arguments about nothing particularly important. Garak's help with the Federation weighed heavily on the Cardassian's mind, and Julian had really only truly realized the breadth of that reality after Garak had said his goodbyes and Julian replayed the conversation in his head over, and over again. He asked Ezri about it, wheedling the information out of her carefully, and found out that the reason their friendship was on the rocks for so long was not because Garak was offended by his genetic enhancements, but rather because Julian had let himself become colder and less attached. He seemed more arrogant, and it above the deaths taking place on Garak's beloved Cardassia Another toll the war took, he supposed.
The message turned out to be six hours long, and needless to say, he could not listen to it all before his shift. It seemed that Garak still found Bashir to be his only confidant, and had sent him journal entries from his exile, reports on the current conditions on Cardassia, and reminiscences of a past Julian had always longed to know about, painstakingly sewn together into a tapestry of the Cardassian's trials. Unfortunately, no matter how mundane Julian's schedule was, he did not have six hours to spend on it. So with great reluctance, he paused it went to work.
00
A great deal of things about Garak's letter bothered Julian, not the least of which was the complete lack of lies located anywhere in it. That is, of course, unless the whole message was one. What bothered Julian the most was the mention of a Cardassian woman named Palandine, whom Garak spoke about with a great deal of affection.
Julian couldn't place his finger on it, although it would probably be fairer to say he didn't want to place his finger on it, but that really bothered him. He almost didn't want to hear more. Before his second shift, he had pressed the pause button, but not because he didn't have the time. He just wasn't sure if wanted to hear more about this Paladine, and what had happened between her and Garak.
"Doctor!" A shout brought him out of his brooding. He suddenly realized that he was standing at a medical counter, staring at the drawer he had meant to open moments, if not several minutes ago.
On the table sat a very impatient Bajoran whose nose was neatly broken, making his face look even more alien to Julian.
"Right, sorry." Julian stumbled over his words as he readied the hypospray to anesthetize the man.
The Bajoran didn't look like he was going to accept the apology, but he didn't say anything else. He sighed in relief as the hypospray's anesthetic eased his pain and Julian began the micro-readjustments.
00
"Julian, that's the third time you've listened to it. Don't you think you should, reply?" Ezri asked, her eyebrows knitted in concern.
She was right. He desperately wanted to, but he knew instinctively what his reply would be from the moment he heard Garak's last words and he wasn't sure if he could go through with it. Instead, he listened to it again to be sure he knew what he was hearing, and then a third time just to be on the safe side.
"I will," he told her, unwilling to look at her.
00
Julian should have known, from the very first moment he felt the light, yet firm touch of Elim Garak's hands on his shoulders, that he would end up in Cardassia. It was as if it was the moment, Cardassia grasped him, and then slowly drew him nearer. Eight years, and a slow tug with gentle, but sure insistence.
He worked his way through the monuments that Garak had described in his letter, wondering at the rubble structures so primitively piled in a way to resolve a indescribable grief. The sun was setting, and heat of the day was going along with it. In the middle of it all, he found a small shack.
Julian, his breath caught firmly in his throat, knocked on his door. It did not open.
Behind him, he heard footsteps. He turned to face them.
"Ah, Doctor," said a smiling, familiar Garak, holding what looked like a gardening trowel in his left hand, "I was wondering when you would show up."