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BLEEP! BLEEP! BLEEP!
“We’re losing altitude!”
BLEEP! BLEEP! BLEEP!
“Doctor, shields have failed!”
BLEEP! BLEEP! FZZZZT!
“AH-! Blast! The controls are fried, I can’t-“
“We’re going to crash! Doctor-!”
BLEEP! BLEEP! CRRRACK!
~*~
Garak returned to consciousness both slowly and resentfully. The pain throughout his body wasn’t severe enough to be frightening, which made it merely an annoyance that he’d rather put off dealing with by going back to sleep. Surely another half hour of rest was all he needed to banish this headache and general battered feeling. But there was something…
“Garak.”
No. No, it was simply too cold, colder even than the station usually was - was he sick? He certainly hoped not - and he would rather not face it.
“Garak…”
Then again. He was not under his blankets; this was not his bed. And…
“Come on, Garak, I know y-you’re awake…”
Julian’s voice, wavering with suppressed pain. Garak slit his eyes open.
“Oh, thank god. Garak, can you hear me?”
Garak gasped sharply, eyes snapping open as he sat up and remembered- their mission- the Jem’Hadar ship- the planet they were crashing into-
Had already crashed into, if the state of the runabout was any indication. The front of the cockpit seemed the least damaged; the door leading to the crew quarters and the wall around it were crushed inwards like a giant hand had squeezed it. What little electronics still had power sparked occasionally.
His head really did hurt.
“Garak?”
“I hear you, doctor,” he said, finally registering the question through his jumbled thoughts. He turned his gaze from the dimmed destruction of their craft and the snow drift visible through the view port to Julian, who managed to look sheepish even with his brow creased with pain.
“Oh g-good. I fear I’m in need of your, ah, tailoring skills. Ha…”
It was only then Garak saw that Julian was holding tightly to his leg with both hands, and blood seeped into the fabric around his fingers.
“You’re injured,” he said stupidly, before forcing his mind into sharper focus. “Your medical kit-“
“Is in the crushed half of the ship, I’m afraid. But I believe that’s your emergency tailor’s kit,” he nodded to what was indeed the spare needle and thread Garak kept literally up his sleeve, which must have been dislodged when they were pitched from their seats. “It, ah. It should do the trick, even if it’s a bit old fashioned…”
Garak took a moment to parse his meaning. Then a moment more. The compact kit had come in useful in a number of situations, but Garak never quite imagined this use for it. The idea was unappealing somehow.
“Doctor, I’m not so sure that’s-“
“Garak, I’d love to consider other options, but as I am in fact the doctor here, I can only tell you two things: stitches will work, and if we don’t do this soon, I’m not going to be conscious to talk you through it.” As he spoke he shuffled carefully to lay back with his legs pulled up, “It isn’t deep, but it’s dangerously close to my femoral artery. I’ve lost at least a pint of blood already.”
He did not want to ask how much blood a human, even an augmented one, could lose safely. “Very well,” he said, and stood to retrieve his kit - and immediately had to steady himself on the bulkhead as a wave of dizziness rolled over him. “On second thought…”
His vision cleared to Julian wincing, though whether from Garak’s state or his own, Garak didn’t know. “Also, I suspect you have a concussion,” Julian said, quite unnecessarily in Garak’s opinion.
“And you still want me to… ‘operate’ on you, I suppose?”
“At this point I wouldn’t care if you were drunk, as long as you follow my instructions. No other choice, remember?” Garak met Julian’s calm, reassuring gaze. “Now, just move slowly.”
With an indignant huff, he did as he was told, moving with caution to pick up the compact, then ignored the doctor’s beckoning to go to the lightly smoking replicator. “Medical gauze,” he tried, but it only fizzled at him. He huffed again.
“It’s fine, Garak, we’ll have to tear up part of my uniform anyways, it’ll work well enough.”
“I was rather hoping for some pain killers.”
“I’m sure we’ll both manage without. Now quit stalling, please,” he said through clenched teeth.
Garak hadn’t even been thinking about his own pain; this was hardly his first concussion, and ever since the wire, working through a migraine was just another weekday. “Fine,” he went reluctantly to Julian’s side and knelt.
“My leg will need to stay elevated, so you’ll have to sit there, like this,” he allowed the doctor to maneuver him into place, which left them with Julian’s injured leg resting over Garak's shoulder while the other stretched out on his other side, bracketing him. “You’ll have to cut away my trouser leg.”
He fumbled open his kit and retrieved the small scissors. At least he could blame his trembling on the concussion and the cold.
He cut the fabric just above where Julian held his leg, all the way around, and they worked together to carefully peel it away from the injury, delicate with the parts that stuck painfully with half congealed blood. The wound itself was jagged, from whatever piece of the mangled console he’d been thrown into during the crash, and deeper than Garak was entirely comfortable with despite the doctor’s reassurances. Then Julian chose a needle and thread and handed them over.
“I don’t suppose you have a preference for style? Saddle stitch, perhaps?” Garak quipped as he pushed the thread through the eye, sure his nerves were showing on his face.
“Like this,” Julian demonstrated the motion, then said, as if it were so simple, “Go on - I’m as braced as I’ll get.”
They both took a breath and held it as he brought the threaded needle to Julian’s skin.
Garak didn’t think he’d ever forget the strangled noise of pain Julian made as he began. He almost stopped right then, astonished at his own squeamishness given that he’d pulled much worse noises from people before - but it had to be done, and the sooner he finished the less pain the doctor would be in, or so he hoped.
He kept sewing. He tried to ignore the muffled gasps Julian couldn’t completely contain even as he directed him through the first stitches. Tried to ignore this strange overlap of his two vocations, the way Julian’s blood seeped through Garak’s embroidery, staining his fingers. Tried to ignore the way the walls of the runabout were closer than usual. He forced himself to breathe deeply, to still the trembling of his hands. They had plenty of air. They were fine.
So much for sewing being relaxing.
“Y-you’re doing very well, Garak,” Julian said, the hand not helping to hold the wound steady clenched tightly in his uniform jacket.
“I’m so glad you think so,” Garak replied, strained, “But isn’t it usually the patient receiving reassurances?”
“Hah, I suppose it’s hard to stop thinking like a doctor, even in this position. Then again, I could say that this isn’t how I ever imagined getting you between my legs,” he said unsteadily. His whole face was creased with pain, eyes booring a hole through the roof of the runabout. He was surely babbling now that Garak didn’t need his guidance, hardly aware of what he was saying.
Still, Garak’s heart leapt. Now, Julian? Really? He kept his eyes on his work. “Doctor, please, I don’t need any more distractions than I’m already dealing with.”
Julian breathed a self conscious laugh. “Right, sorry. We’ll blame that one on the blood loss, shall we?”
Garak needed all of his considerable professional discipline to focus as the cold numbed his fingers; he couldn’t think about this, not while Julian was in this state.
Unfortunately, Julian’s silence didn’t last. “Of course, I’ve never been sure whether you wanted to… I mean, you flirt with me, but you flirt with everyone, and you’ve never exactly made an actual move…”
“I never would have thought you were interested, Doctor,” he said, clipped.
Julian was not dissuaded. “Please, Garak, I’ve always been interested in you.”
He sighed. “Perhaps. But if so, why not act on it yourself? You’ve always been quite proactive in your relationships.”
“Well… I had my reasons, of course… I’m sure you could come up with a few for me…” Julian hedged, flicking a glance at him.
How could he resist that? “Ah, how like an enigma tale! You’re guilty of hiding how you’ve felt about me, but in what way? Maybe you were worried, at the beginning, that I would discover your enhancements? That I’d reveal your secret for my own gain? Or maybe I was simply more trouble than I was worth, with my unknown but certainly sordid past. Too much to contend with for a passing fling. Either way, Doctor, the end result is the same for me.” His bed, without Julian in it. His life, entwined with Julian’s just enough to let in a bit of light. It was enough; he hadn’t wanted to find out why it wouldn’t be more.
Especially as he came to understand how much more he craved.
“Well, what about you? You can’t expect me to believe you didn’t suspect even a little bit that I was interested. If you’d asked me back to your shop after that business with Tahna Los, I’d have come running- OW!”
“Doctor! Are you alright?”
“Y-yes. Just, d-don’t pull the stitches so taut. If they’re too tight it could cause an infection.”
Garak's lungs constricted further. “I apologize. This temperature is not helping my dexterity, and… perhaps we could discuss this later?”
“Right. Right. Sorry, Garak, I suppose I was just… enjoying the distraction. Backfired on me, didn’t it? I’ll just, ah, lie back and think of England.” He grimaced.
Garak didn’t get the reference, but finishing this Gul’s forsaken procedure was more important, so he went back to work, as gentle as he was able to be. His stomach tied itself into knots over and over as his mind flooded with self recriminations; distracted trying to save the life of his dearest friend? Entirely unacceptable. Focus, Elim.
“I believe that’s all of it, Doctor,” he said a few excruciating minutes later, finally breathing easier. “How do I tie it off?”
“L-like this,” Julian sounded as relieved as Garak felt, and sat up slightly to show him what to do. When he was done, Julian examined his leg critically. “Congratulations, Garak, you’re a healer! These stitches look nearly professional.”
Garak felt a pang of distant emotion and ignored it. “I’m happy they’re up to your standards, Doctor.”
Together they pulled the tattered remains of the trouser leg off and Garak cut it into long strips, which Julian used to bandage himself while Garak held his leg steady on his shoulder.
Finally, it was finished.
Julian laid back down with a whoosh of breath. “Well, that’s one crisis down.”
Unsure if he could move Julian’s leg and uncomfortably aware of how warm it was against him, Garak turned his eyes back to the view port. “On to the next, then. Shall we talk about how this ship is no longer space worthy, or skip straight to whether we’re more likely to starve or freeze to death first?”
Julian had the nerve to roll his eyes at him. “No need to be so dramatic, Garak - you got off a distress call before the Jem’Hadar could jam our signal. I’d say there’s a 97% chance we get rescued in less than three days, so long as no Jem’Hadar come double checking on us. And as I disabled their engines with the photon torpedos, I think they’ll be a little more focused on repairs. We’ll be fine.”
“If you say so, Doctor,” he sniffed dubiously, then groused, “Three days sounds like plenty of time to freeze to death to me…”
Julian took a short breath and set his face determinedly. “Well, lucky for you, us mammals generate heat. Come down here, you may as well warm up before finding out what emergency rations survived the crash,” he said, and began tugging at Garak’s arm.
“Wh- Doctor, I don’t think- your leg-“ he stuttered, alarmed.
“Will be fine,” he interrupted, “Now come here.”
“I really don’t see-“
“Why you should listen to the medical advice of a doctor?” Julian caught his gaze, and he found he couldn’t look away from the emotions there - pain and adrenaline giving way to exhaustion, yes, but also… “Garak, please don’t be difficult. I just had to oversee my own field operation. Waiting for rescue will be far more comfortable if we conserve heat and energy, so just come here.”
Garak really hadn’t thought Julian would ever be interested in him; at least, not for anything more than a little fun before moving on sooner rather than later. But that look… it was so fond. So warm.
Thinking about this now was a foolish distraction. From their present circumstances, from the war - it didn’t matter. It was a terrible time for false hope.
But Julian continued to tug insistently, and Garak allowed himself to be arranged. He ended up curled tightly against Julian’s uninjured side with his head on Julian’s chest, Julian’s arm around his back. It was, as Garak knew it would be, much warmer.
It was nearly unbearable.
~*~
Julian didn’t think he meant to have the worst timing with these things, but at this point, a pattern was a pattern. Anyways, there’s really no such thing as a good time during a war. That was half the problem. At first, he’d thought to keep avoiding it; he’d have time to press his suit after the war or he wouldn’t, one way or another, but now wasn’t the time.
Of course, his friends - Miles, Dax, even Captain Sisko - had told him how foolish that kind of thinking was, any time the longing got too much and he couldn’t help talking, in as vague terms as possible, about something he was waiting for. And perhaps they were right. So what if they were crashed, injured, and stranded? How was Julian meant to keep his feelings to himself with Garak, concussion and all, focused so intensely on stitching him up? When his hands were so careful?
And he still had no idea how his feelings would be received. Half of Garak’s personality was affectation. He might have genuinely been interested in Julian, at least once. Or it might have always been a ploy, a way to disarm him - it had certainly worked. Or it might just be Garak himself, the way he can’t seem to help but insinuate more than he says with every word. What Julian was sure of was that they were friends. Close friends; he knew how important is was that he’d witnessed Tain’s shri tal, no matter how complicated that relationship was.
And he’d already gotten distracted and opened his big mouth about it, so why not now? After all, if he’s rebuffed, they only have to remain in this very confined space together for between one and three days. That wouldn’t be awkward at all.
If only… “Garak, this would be much nicer if you’d relax.”
The man in his arms shifted, but remained exactly as stiff as he had been. “My apologies, Doctor. I can’t imagine why I’m having so much trouble being at ease, given our circumstances.”
Julian rolled his eyes where Garak couldn’t see. Of course Garak was never going to make it easy for him, and honestly, he wouldn’t want him to. God help him but he really did want the stubborn bastard exactly as he was. And he relished a challenge. He was certain he could coax out some real answers.
“Oh, Garak,” he said with slightly overdone concern, “Are you still cold? Does your head still hurt? Of course it must, with a concussion. Here,” he stroked one hand firmly up and down Garak’s back, and placed the other in his hair, massaging carefully around the injured part of his scalp.
Garak twitched like he had to curb the urge to shove himself away. Julian stopped his ministrations.
“Still tender there?” he asked carefully.
“Quite. There’s really no need to fuss,” Garak warned.
He pushed on. “Ah, I am sorry, Garak, but you see, I really must keep my leg still, but I’ve never been very good at staying still as I’m sure you know. So having something to do with my hands is actually very helpful. If you don’t mind?”
Garak deflated somewhat. “Oh, whatever your recovery demands, of course,” he muttered mulishly.
Julian huffed, hope dimming. “Look, Garak, if you’re going to act like this is some kind of chore, then forget it. And while we’re at it, if, if you don’t want me, then just say so and-“
“I can resist everything except temptation, Doctor,” Garak interrupted.
“And what is that supposed to mean?”
Garak lifted his head, finally meeting his eye. “It means that I do want this, and also that I want more than this.”
The man was infuriating. “More than…?”
“More than being ‘between your legs.’”
Julian heard the scorn in Garak’s voice, knew him well enough to know it was directed inwards. He felt his face soften in response and couldn’t do a thing to stop it. “Oh. Oh. As in you want it to be… serious.”
“Whether I want it to be or not, it is serious for me,” Garak blinked hard. “And may I say, initiating this conversation under duress is very unsportsmanlike of you.”
“Well.” Julian felt himself starting to grin. “It’s one way of getting a straight answer out of you. Why should it not be serious?”
“Other than that we are in the middle of a war and I hardly have the capacity to do more than fear for my people? In case you’ve forgotten, I already had one nervous break this year. Neither of us has time or energy for this. And if you expect me to believe you are serious about me, Doctor-“
“It’s Julian.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“My name is Julian. You should use it sometime. Since it is my intention to… pursue you seriously.”
Garak’s eyes, always so intense, seemed to bore directly into his. Julian held his gaze defiantly.
“Pursue me.” He said it like it was a foreign concept.
“Yes! Pursue you! Garak, if I can’t be serious about you, then there’s no hope for me anywhere else in the galaxy. I’ve never had feelings for anyone as long as I have for you, and certainly not ones that stuck around even when I didn’t act on them.”
He could see Garak recoiling from his sincerity. “Doctor, even if that weren’t a completely ridiculous thing to say, we are still in the middle of a war. Now is hardly the best time to be making these kinds of decisions-“
“And what if the war lasts the rest of our lives?” Julian demanded. “I’m well aware that could only be until tomorrow, if we’re especially unlucky. Or this could be our lives for the next several decades! Either way it’s a flimsy excuse, Garak, and I asked you to call me Julian,” he said, a direct challenge.
They continued to stare each other down, until finally, with the barest softening of that intense blue, Garak said, “Julian.”
Julian couldn’t stop his smile from blooming across his face, only getting wider when Garak’s gaze caught on it before jumping back to meet his.
“There. That’s the first time you’ve ever called me that.” Julian leaned up until their faces were only inches apart. “Imagine what other firsts we could achieve?”
“I suppose you could call me Elim,” Garak said haltingly. If Julian didn’t know better, he’d almost have said he looked shy.
Julian leaned the rest of the way in, and said against his lips, “Alright. Elim.”
And then, finally, they were kissing.
Julian immediately lost himself in the hot slide of their lips, Garak’s tracing the shape of his before parting in invitation, and Julian wasted no time in accepting it, slipping his tongue against Garak’s and earning a groan that he eagerly swallowed. Julian’s hands roamed without input from his brain, having just enough wherewithal to avoid the tender spot when one buried itself in his hair like he’d always wanted to, the other touching his face, his neck and shoulder ridges, down the long arch of his back. Garak used one arm to prop them both up, his other hand splayed across Julian’s chest - it spasmed when Julian teased Garak’s tongue into his own mouth and sucked. Vaguely, Julian realized that Garak had relaxed against him at last.
Finally Garak broke for air with a small gasp, and Julian watched his eyes flutter dazedly with equal parts pride and hunger.
“God, I’ve wanted to do that for years. You have no idea how many times I almost just, grabbed you,” Julian said, filter gone and not particularly caring.
“I’m sure I can imagine, given how often I considered it myself,” Garak admitted.
“It was awful after 371. I mean, everything was awful, we had both just been through that horrible mess, and then we got back to the war at our doorstep…”
“Ah, so it’s a flimsy excuse for me, but when it’s your excuse-“
Julian rolled his eyes again. “It was always a flimsy excuse, Elim. I have been entirely hypocritical. Happy now?”
Garak hummed, teasing, “I’m not sure, Julian. It’s still quite cold, I still have a concussion, and we are still stranded-“
Julian cut him off with another kiss; by his reckoning it lasted even longer than the first one.
“What about now?” he panted when they broke off once more.
“Well,” Garak breathed, “Perhaps a little.”
Julian grinned again and leaned back in.
~*~
Of course, excuse or not, they were still in a war.
Julian’s prediction was right, and they got rescued just over a (surprisingly pleasant, if chilly) day later by the Defiant; back on the station, Julian got swept up almost immediately trying to find a cure for Odo; not long after that, Garak left for Cardassia with Kira and Odo to help the Cardassian resistance. They had next to no free time together before he departed, and Julian didn’t see them off - they both knew how dangerous their circumstances were, and there was little point in long goodbyes.
But when, Julian thought, when he gets back, and the Cardassian resistance is established and Odo is cured…
Without Miles, Julian wasn’t sure how he would have survived the following weeks - he certainly wouldn’t have found the cure without him.
It was yet again a terrible time to be talking about his feelings, but, well - trapped in a dying man’s mind about to die themselves, his filter was even more useless than usual.
“I’m just saying, maybe you like me a bit more, that’s all.”
“I do not,” Miles snapped.
“… You spend more time with me,” Julian wheedled.
“We. Work. Together.”
“We have more in common.”
Miles’ face moved past red into maroon. “Julian, you are beginning to annoy me.”
“Darts, racquetball, Vic’s lounge, the Alamo - need I go on?”
“I love. My wife.”
Julian braced himself. “And I love Garak. Passionately.”
“Bloody hell,” Miles sagged slightly.
“I do!”
“I know you do, Julian,” he rolled his eyes mightily.
“…You do?”
“Obviously.”
Julian blinked a moment, thinking he’d lost track of his point. “Right. Right.”
“…Have you told him?” Miles asked reluctantly.
“Not yet. Not… in so many words. But I will. But that’s not my point!” He'd found it again.
“Then what the hell is your point?”
“That I love Garak! It’s just that I… like you… a bit more. See, there. I’ve admitted it.”
Miles scowled. “Yeah, well. I love my wife.”
~*~
And then, unbelievably, it was over.
There in the skies above Cardassia Prime, the news that the Founder had called for a ceasefire washed over the Defiant like a tidal wave, cheers, sighs, laughter, and tears, everyone hugging everyone, and underneath it all Julian kept thinking, was Garak alright? Was he alive? Was he one of the three that made it to the briefing room?
With that anxiety quickly overtaking the sense of relief, Julian made his way through the crowd to Captain Sisko, who hugged him too, and made his request to beam down.
~*~
“800 million dead…” Julian stood at the console he had wandered over to, reading the data as it scrolled past almost too quickly to see. Garak had hardly looked up from the screen he was at when Julian had appeared; the war was over, but the devastation in its wake rolled through him like a poison. Garak had expected to feel relieved, victorious. But as the numbers climbed he felt instead as if all the hope he’d ever had was draining out of him. He had hoped to end the Dominion's rule over Cardassia, and now that they had, there was no amount of hope that could undo the death they had wrought.
“And casualty reports still coming in.” Finally he turned to face Julian, trying to slide his affable mask into place, but aware, distantly irritated that he’d missed the mark. “Well! Aren’t you going to congratulate me, Doctor? My exile is now officially over! I’ve returned home… or rather, to what’s left of it.”
Julian clearly didn’t know what to say, but still he fumbled, “Listen, I-I know that this must seem-“
Garak ignored him. “You know, some may say that we got just what we deserved. After all, we’re not entirely innocent, are we? And I’m not just speaking of the Bajoran occupation. No, our whole history is one of arrogant oppression. We collaborated with the Dominion, betrayed the entire Alpha Quadrant… Oh, no, no, there’s no doubt about it. We’re guilty as charged.”
Julian tried again, “You and I both know that the Cardassians are a strong people. They’ll survive. Cardassia will survive.”
“Oh, please Doctor!” Garak laughed bitterly, “Spare me your insufferable Federation optimism. Of course it’ll survive! But not as the Cardassia I knew. We had a rich and ancient culture, our literature, music, art was second to none! And now… so much of it is… lost… So many of our best people… our most gifted minds…” For a moment the hopelessness stole his breath.
Julian’s hand was warm on his shoulder.
“… I’m sorry, Garak, I didn’t mean-“
Garak interrupted him again; if this was to be their goodbye, he didn’t want any of the man’s pity. “Oh, it’s- it’s quite all right, Doctor… You’ve been such a good friend. I’m going to miss our lunches together.”
Julian blinked at him. “Garak, what are you talking about?”
Garak blinked back. “We live in uncertain times, Doctor. Who knows if we’ll ever…?”
“Elim.” Garak’s mouth shut with a click. “Have you already forgotten what I said? I’m serious about you, remember? We are going to have many, many more lunches together.”
“Oh,” he replied stupidly.
Julian took him by the elbows. “Right now, I’m going to do what I came down here to do, which is help coordinate rescue and triage for the areas that have been hit the hardest. I’m sure I’d appreciate your help, if you’re not too exhausted.” His hands slid up to Garak’s shoulders. “And then, later, when there’s time,” he tilted their foreheads together, gently resting against Garak’s chufa, “I would be delighted to get lunch with you.”
It was all at once too much, too many emotions, too many things happening on not enough sleep, and Garak pulled Julian to him and buried his face in the crook of his neck and hid there as he cried like a child. Julian wrapped him tightly in his arms and stroked his hair, like he had when they kissed in their crashed shuttle, only weeks ago but it felt like a lifetime, and Garak shook. Julian held him through it, murmuring soothingly at him all the while.
The tears eventually stopped, but Garak did not let go. He hadn’t been soothed like this since he was young and it felt too precious to give up. Hope and hopelessness warred inside him, and he was so very tired of war; but like this, with Julian holding all the disparate pieces of him easily in his arms, he almost thought he could bare it.
Finally, Garak sighed. “Julian…”
“Yes, love?”
Garak shivered. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. What for?”
“For all our lunches on Deep Space 9.”
Julian pressed a kiss to his temple and held him tighter for a moment, murmured, "It was my pleasure." Then he said, “I’ll have to go back soon, I suppose. Probably with the Defiant, whenever it’s departing.”
Garak froze. Said in his most blankly polite voice, “Ah. Of course. Well, I do hope you’ll at least write with some regularity, although I’m not certain our communications relays will be reliable for some time yet-“
Julian pulled away just enough to look into his eyes. “Elim. I have to go back. To say goodbye. To get everything in order for the new CMO, and make sure that they pick someone competent to replace me. To get Kukalaka. And then, one way or another, I’ll be back. Here. You aren’t getting rid of me that easily.”
“Oh,” he said again.
Julian leaned their faces back together. “Silly man,” he said indulgently.
“… Julian?”
“Yes, Elim?”
Garak tilted his head and kissed him, and for a moment, felt something like peace.
~*~
My dear Julian,
I’m sorry to hear of the delay to your return, but if it’s in the name of bringing much needed medical supplies, I suppose it can’t be helped. Cardassia will be very grateful for any assistance she can get. And so will I.
As for Lieutenant Dax’s comment, per your last letter: “If I had known all it would take was a few hours stranded together, I would have put you in a runabout and shot you down myself.” Flattering as it is for my personal affairs to be of such interest to others, you may relay my reply thusly: “I’d like to see you try.”
However, if Colonel Kira ever expresses a similar notion, please make no such rebuttal. I would prefer to remain unscathed.
The rebuilding here continues apace - it’s slow going, of course, but most people at least have shelter from the elements now, which is something to be grateful for.
Tain’s house- Mila’s house- My house is largely intact, but for some reason I can’t bring myself to sleep inside. I’ve been sleeping in the old garden shed instead, cramped as it is - weather permitting, I leave the door open. It works well enough for now.
But it seemed wasteful to have a house of that size go unused, given the circumstances, and there were a handful of orphans in the area with no family left to take them in, you see, and… well, I believe once they decided I wasn’t luring them in to eat them, they brought more of their friends from other parts of the city…
My dear Doctor, I’m afraid I may have started something of an orphanage.
The children listen to my instructions on how to ration supplies. They keep themselves tidy and never play too loudly. They've even started asking to hear stories from me, now and again. I might have told them I have a friend who can tell them human stories, once he arrives. I hope you won't mind.
I'm not sure how long this will last. Maybe once there's a formally established government, there will be official accommodations put into place. But for now, it seems I've volunteered.
Beyond that and debris moving duty, I don't have terribly much else to occupy my mind. In the interest of honest communication, which I’m given to understand is desired in romantic human relationships, I miss you. I hope you can get here soon.
In the meantime, I was thinking of starting a garden.
Yours,
Elim
My dear Elim,
A garden sounds lovely. It all sounds lovely.
I miss you too, but not for long.
xo,
Julian