(Day 4)
Garak and Bashir had fully intended to stay awake through the night. However, they were now well into the early hours of the morning and the good-natured bickering, literary discussions, and playful interactions with Kukalaka had all but petered out. Garak's Delavian chocolates had been a welcome reprieve, temporarily energising them both, but the sweets had only managed to delay the inevitable. Despite their best efforts, the two of them were now sat dozing together on the sofa. They were propped up against each other, having companionably linked arms earlier to share their remaining heat. It also had the benefit of keeping them seated in an upright position, should they end up drifting off.
/ WARNING / WARNING / WARNING /
Julian was the first to stir as their sleep was disturbed by a piercing alarm and flashing red lights. Brilliant, just what they needed. The oxygen must have reached levels low enough to trigger the emergency evacuation protocols. The pair of them were being subjected to a last-ditch effort by the computer to vacate the inhabitable station. Julian was honestly amazed that any of the warning systems were still functional and mused that they must draw power separately from the rest. Unless they were an overlooked remnant of the original Cardassian programming that had yet to be integrated? Either way, the already unpleasant conditions of Garak's quarters were now even worse. He was finding it difficult not to let his growing irritation at the situation take over.
Garak blearily opened his eyes before swiftly bringing his free hand up to shield himself from the aggressively flickering lights. Although his hearing wasn't as acute as the Doctor's, there was no way he could sleep through the abrasive din. Especially not with the accompanying light show that was already threatening to trigger one of his migraines.
Garak almost had to shout to make himself heard over the unwelcome commotion. "Make it stop Doctor, would you? I think I'm too long in the tooth to appreciate this sort of music. It really isn't to my taste. I've heard better Klingon Operas, which is saying something."
Julian's lip twitched at Garak's attempt at humour although things didn't seem very funny right now. He had clambered to his feet to investigate and was struggling to catch his breath. He stood on the spot, waiting in vain for his dizzying head rush to abate. Garak wanted him to fix this? If only it was that simple. Julian had no idea how to turn the bloody noise off. He was a doctor, not an engineer! He would confidently bet that Garak was more likely than he was to possess the required skills, not that his slippery friend would ever willingly admit to such a thing. He stumbled over to the nearest wall panel and wasn't at all surprised to find it completely unresponsive to his verbal and physical commands. There was only one thing for it. He squared his shoulders and tried to muster the required energy to gather what they needed and head back through to the living room.
Julian dragged the oxygen tanks and masks over to the sofa area, placing one of each in front of Garak and himself. The headgear was similar to a spacesuit helmet in design and would offer effective sound absorption as well as providing them with some much-needed air. He put his on easily enough after connecting the canister and sighed in relief as he was able to hear his own thoughts again. Julian could almost sense the improvement in his brain functions as his oxygen levels increased, he was suddenly feeling significantly calmer and more alert. Now that he was doing better, he turned his attention to Garak and was perplexed to see that the Tailor hadn't made any move to put on his helmet yet. Garak's current expression would be described as blank by an outsider, but Julian knew better, he looked absolutely terrified.
Concerned, Julian turned up the volume on his mask's exterior microphone. "Garak? Are you alright? I assure you; it is much more comfortable with this on. I can barely hear the alarm and can breathe easily for the first time in days."
Garak nodded in acknowledgement. He knew that he was being silly. No, not silly, pathetic. He was officially pathetic. A disgrace to everything he'd been brought up to be. It was only a helmet for goodness' sake! He'd worn similar respiratory apparatus several times in the past without major incident. Now wasn't the time for another panic attack. One such incident this week was already far too many.
Trying his best to calm down, Garak applied his shaking hands to coupling the gas canister with its corresponding mask. Surely, once he could take a proper breath, the constricting feeling around his chest would lessen. That was the hope anyway. He was certainly no doctor! Although, he was uniquely fortunate to have such a skilled and attentive one within arm's reach. Despite his misgivings about being enclosed, he was starting to feel faint and hurried himself along. Aware of his audience, Garak managed to set up his mask and finally slip the damn thing over his head.
It was a snug fit, and everything was suddenly muffled. Garak quickly concluded that only being able to hear his erratic breathing wasn't any more reassuring than the alarm had been. He tried to force himself to take a deep breath, but his lungs seemed reluctant to allow the movement. After considerable exertion, he only managed a few desperate gasps. Great, after all that effort he was going to die anyway. He could almost hear Tain's mocking laughter, the Spymaster would find this whole situation most amusing.
Garak bit back his own delirious smile, resigned to the fact that he would pass from this world stuck inside the cramped quarters that he'd always hated. The moment of his departure honoured with all the dignity and grace allowed by the obnoxious noise and jazzy flashing lights. Garak was also to be denied the chance to take part in the traditional shri-tal. Although, to what family would he pass on his secrets? There would certainly be no perek flowers left in his memory, no scarlet petals mournfully scattered in respect for one Elim Garak. He was finally getting what he deserved, he supposed. What a pathetic waste his life had amounted to in the end.
Julian was growing more and more alarmed. Garak still seemed unable to breathe properly. He efficiently double checked the tank, connection, and helmet and concluded they were all working as they should. The problem wasn't mechanical then. That was a relief, sort of. Now he just had to force Garak to relax and reinitialise his normal breathing pattern. He appeared to be hyperventilating and wasn't absorbing enough of the available oxygen. What could have caused this? The last time this had happened had been when he was weighed down and restrained, was Garak Claustrophobic or maybe Cleithrophobic? Something was troubling him enough to trigger this heightened state of panic.
Julian reached for Garak's hands, enclosing them firmly in his own. "Garak! You need to take a deep, slow breath. Can you try to do that for me? Garak! Can you hear me?"
Garak was looking at him, but Julian didn't see any comprehension in his eyes. Shit. He normally wouldn't be overly concerned with a panic attack or hyperventilation generally, but they had been without sufficient oxygen for days and Garak's body had already suffered significant trauma from his prior comatose state. Who knew how much more his cardiovascular system could take? Julian didn't possess enough medical knowledge specific to Cardassians to know if this was life threatening or not. He needed to start by getting Garak's attention, but how? He would normally have just removed his helmet, but he wasn't confident that the surrounding air would be much good to Garak now. The tank's higher concentration of O2 was what was needed to give his system a boost.
Julian tightened his grip before caressing Garak's palms with his thumbs, but he didn't react to his touch. As Garak started to sway unsteadily on his feet, Julian safely guided him back into a seated position on the sofa. On a whim, he grabbed Kukalaka and handed him over. That way, his friend would have something tangible to hold on to and draw strength from.
Taking a deep breath, Julian threw off his own mask and moved to sit directly in front of Garak. He reached out both hands and placed them lightly on Garak's chest. Julian then started to apply pressure as he stroked his torso, pausing to softly outline the central ridge he could discern with his fingertips. Garak hadn't even looked at him, let alone altered his breathing. Continuing his exploration, he brought his hands up towards Garak's neck and gently opened his blanket.
Julian thought he'd better try a more conventional approach before he crossed any more lines and shook the Tailor firmly by the shoulders. "Garak! Please, listen to me. I need you to focus on my voice. You need to slow your breathing down. You can do this. Garak...?"
When that didn't yield any results, Julian decided a shock to the system might well be what the doctor ordered. A similar concept to startling a human to stop the involuntary diaphragm spasms of hiccups. He lowered his mouth and applied a lingering kiss to Garak's left neck ridge, to little effect. Garak still wasn't acknowledging his presence or comprehending his instructions. He could recall observing that the distinctive vertical structures possessed an unusual amount of nerve endings and blood vessels. Julian hoped that this would therefore be a sensitive spot that would cause a reaction when stimulated. Cardassian scaled skin was so strong and well protected, there weren't many other viable sites.
Moving to further test his theory, Julian leaned in to position his mouth back around the left ridge and mirrored the action with his hand on the right side. It was now or never. As he pinched the scales with his dextrous fingers, Julian tentatively latched onto the thick ridge with his teeth. He felt Garak twitch underneath him and responded by steadily intensifying both grips. He maintained the action until he felt his friend's chest expand fully before slowly retracting. It was working!
Garak greedily sucked in the blessed air, finally able to breathe properly again. As he gradually came back to himself and his awareness improved, he couldn't believe what was happening. He appeared to be tightly clutching the Doctor's stuffed animal friend while the man himself was doing unspeakably delightful things to his neck. His affection and admiration for the generous human soared. Bashir was incredibly resourceful when he needed to be, a true out of the box thinker. Garak didn't know anyone else on the station that would have come to such a conclusion or who knew enough about Cardassian physiology to attempt such a thing. The Doctor must have been seriously concerned for his safety to have risked manhandling him again in this way, given all that had transpired between them previously.
Garak had to hold back a low groan as Bashir continued his ministrations. He knew he'd better stop this now before it escalated and tapped his creative companion on the shoulder. Meeting the Doctor's eyes, he smirked. "Thank you for that, my Dear. You can stop now; you've done quite enough."
The Doctor sat back on the table and Garak read the obvious relief in his face. He really needed to stop worrying the poor man so much. Garak couldn't help but notice that while his eyes shone brightly, Bashir was looking particularly pale in his cheeks and almost blue around his mouth. Clearly, the good Doctor had once again forgone his own health and comforts to look after him. Garak returned Bashir's helmet, feeling slightly less guilty once he'd witnessed him take a few deep breaths of his own. As the Doctor's colour returned, Garak calmed himself and his attention was instead drawn to the teddy bear in his grasp. He was dismayed to discover that one of Kukalaka's arms had become loose and was now hanging by a thread, he must have been too rough in his panicked state with the soft toy.
Julian could sense Garak's growing guilt and smiled warmly, reaching out to put a comforting hand on his arm. "It's ok. You had it right before, Kukalaka did save the day. He took one for the team, as he has done numerous times for me in the past. He must like you Garak, he wouldn't do that sort of thing for just anyone."
Garak swallowed thickly and cleared his throat. "I appreciate both of your efforts and fully intend to make it up to you. Once I can access my shop, I'll have him as good as new in no time."
Julian shook his head and held out a hand to take Kukalaka back. "You don't need to do that Garak; I am more than capable of mending him myself. I'm rather attached to him as he is, Kukalaka doesn't need to be made into a new and shiny version of himself. As Mary Poppins would say: he's practically perfect in every way… I honestly wouldn't change anything from the worn texture of his fur to his lovely, squashed face."
Garak didn't know this 'Poppins' person, but he was taken aback by the strong emotion this had seemingly activated in the Doctor. It would indicate that he had experienced repeated disapproval and rejection personally. Garak couldn't see why that would be the case when the young man was both beautiful and brilliant. But Garak was no stranger to these types of demons. He still carried the weight of having never been good enough for his father. Perhaps Bashir had grown up similarly pressured and his overachieving tendencies were a direct result? It was possible, he supposed. The Doctor didn't openly discuss his childhood and had never once mentioned his father, as far as he could remember. Unusual as he was normally very talkative and rarely concealed anything, often giving almost too much information.
Garak cradled Kukalaka protectively to his chest. "No, I insist. Don't worry, my Dear. I won't do anything untoward to our friend here. If all you wish is for a simple repair of his stitches, I am more than happy to provide that service for the both of you. You do trust me, don't you?"
Julian dropped his hand and took a step back. Biting his lip, he looked into Garak's eyes and nodded in agreement. "Yes, of course. You're the only person I would entrust him to."
Garak warmed at the praise, but he knew deep down that the Doctor was wrong to think that he was in any way trustworthy. Yes, he was a tailor and possessed the necessary expertise to carry out the job. But Kukalaka was like family to Bashir, and he would need to treat him as such. Garak was determined to try to be deserving of the faith the good Doctor had placed in him.
