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@jsbashirmd asked: "Hey, hi, I have to hide from Dr. Girani. Are you going to make me buy something before I can hide in the dressing rooms?"
"Mmm, tempting, but no, I'd hardly force you to pay before you've even tried anything on. This isn't Quark's Clothiers. You do have to try something on to use the dressing rooms, though, I'm afraid. I have a number of items that happen to be in your size, if you'd care to browse them."
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[ behind ] sender comes up to receiver from behind and wraps their arms around their waist ~@jsbashirmd
HE'S A LITTLE DISTRACTED THIS EVENING. It's been a difficult day at work, as his days often are, and he's come home with his mind still whirring away with it all. He's home before Julian today. He's got his music playing, there's a drink on the side, and he's standing in the living room, staring out of the window with a hand tangled in his own hair. Nothing is quite working to satisfy the odd feeling he seems stuck with tonight, and it's absolutely infuriating. There's nothing more he can do on the case now, otherwise he'd be doing it, so he's going to have to direct his attention elsewhere, somehow. It's as though his whole body aches, except that it doesn't exactly hurt, and he doesn't know what it's aching for. He tugs at his own hair, fidgets with a button on his shirt, and then---
THEN THERE ARE ARMS AROUND HIM. Morse makes a startled sound, but surprise dissolves quickly into a smile. Julian. "I didn't hear you come in," he says, dropping the hand from his hair to cover Julian's arms with his own. Maybe he did hear, and just didn't process the sound. He's not sure. With this sort of distraction, either is plausible. He's not even sure how long he's been standing here. Already, though, he's feeling a bit more grounded. Julian always hugs him so firmly, and it's one of the best feelings in the world. Morse is leaning into him before he even realises he's doing it, seeking more contact. "How... how was your day?" he asks, trying to pull his mind back into the realm of polite conversation instead of focusing on the perfect hug he's being given and how much he never wants Julian to let go.
@jsbashirmd
Pain.
It seemed like the whole world was pain. He couldn't even sense his Founder's presence anymore. The agony ripping through his body was much more primal, and much more immediate, than even his unshakable faith.
Dimly, that scared him, but he didn't have the presence of mind to notice that.
Let this sacrifice cleanse me of all— let this— Weyoun silently prayed, realizing that he couldn't remember the words. Part of him hoped that death would claim him soon and he would wake up in the Rondac III facility with a pure heart and mind and no more troubling notions, the Voice of the Great Link standing over him, stark and commanding and without a trace of the illness that was beginning to claim her when he defected. He hoped that this iteration would fade into nothing more than a dream.
"Hold on— stay with me now—"
That wasn't his Founder. That wasn't any Founder. He felt the cold touch of a hypospray against his neck, and the pain receded a bit. Enough for him to perceive his environment, anyway. He still couldn't move. But he could speak. Kind of.
His voice trembled and scratched as he spoke, a task that took far more effort than he was expecting it to after what the implant did to his brain. "W— where is Odo?"
@jsbashirmd The young woman who appeared on the screen when the call was answered wasn't nearly as human as the name suggested. Aisha Rafiq, if she was using her own communication unit and it transmitted her actual name, had dark brown hair in curls that looked something like Julian's, though she wore them longer. She had similar eyes too, but most of the resemblance ended there, as she took after her Ivernian parent. Her expression changed quickly from anxious to surprised. "Oh. Hello. I'm sorry, I was trying to catch Julian. Bashir? Have I reached the wrong code?"
WHAT A DELIGHTFUL OPPORTUNITY. Clearly, this is someone who knows Julian, but not someone he's close enough to to share details of his new circumstances. Garak smiles a slow, polite-and-yet-mildly-sinister smile. "Ah, I think that remains to be seen." He doesn't wait for her to process that before he continues. "What is the nature of your call? I'm not certain we have a Julian Bashir residing here, but perhaps I could take a closer look if you were to provide some of your own details?"
@jsbashirmd said: "i’m so happy to see you, but i take it something went terribly wrong if you’re here."
JULIAN'S VOICE ALMOST SURPRISES HIM. It shouldn't --- he is in the doctor's quarters, after all. Different to his quarters on DS9, but very Julian all the same. He's stood by the wardrobe, rifling through it for something warm, when Julian wakes. He's left Essan nestled against a chair arm in the other room after feeding him using Julian's replicator, so Garak faces Julian alone when he turns towards the bed.
ONE COULD SAY SOMETHING WENT TERRIBLY WRONG. Lots of things, actually. For one, Garak has accidentally adopted a child at the least convenient time possible. "Hello, Doctor." He's holding one of the thicker items of clothing from Julian's wardrobe. "I do apologise for the intrusion." It's so good to see him again. To see him asleep had been lovely enough, but to see him wide-eyed and blinking up at him... oh, he's as beautiful as Garak remembers. His dear doctor. He'd like to reach out for him now, take one warm human hand in his own, but he's not here for his own benefit. "You are... correct."
AT LEAST, TO SOME EXTENT. Rather than explaining verbally, he turns and makes his way back to the sofa, where he left Essan. Two empty plates --- both scraped clean by Garak on behalf of himself and the hungry child --- sit nearby on the table. A small Cardassian boy, perhaps four years old, is curled half-asleep on Julian's sofa. Like Garak, he looks less than healthy, though he additionally sports a feverish glassiness to his eyes, and has his little legs drawn up to his chest in what could be fear, pain, or discomfort. Garak wraps him in the jumper he's holding and lifts him into his arms. As soon as he's moved, Essan makes a small, upset-sounding noise, and presses his face into Garak's shoulder. "I'm sorry," Garak tells him softly as he turns to see whether Julian has followed him. "Doctor? I have a patient for you."
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@jsbashirmd did not ask for this Essan starter but is getting it anyway
EVERYTHING IS SO MUCH. So much noise and light and so many feelings and scents, and it's all too much. The only thing to help -- the only thing to make it all feel a little bit better -- is what he's doing now, which is pressing himself in the corner against cool walls, curled up as small as he can manage. Tiny rocking motions press him rhythmically against the wall, and that helps a little bit, too. Essan watches the strangers in the room with wide, frightened eyes. They're all moving with purpose, they all seem to know what they're doing and where they're going, and at any time one of them might change direction and come towards him. It feels like he's been afraid for days now. First the fear of knowing something is wrong with his body, something making him cough blood into his hands and making him shiver until his bones hurt, and then, later, the fear of not being able to stay awake no matter how hard he tries. He'd thought he was dying. Maybe he was. Then the strangers had come. They'd dug him out of his tiny shelter made of rubble, and though he'd cried and tried to pull away, they'd been stronger. They pulled him out anyway, their hands on him, gripping until he kicked and twisted and hit with his tail, hard enough to really hurt. It was all a waste of time, in the end, because his coughing took over and then he was dizzy, and they took him anyway.
AND THEN HE WAS HERE. He woke up in a bed with a scratchy sheet, in a room full of new sounds and smells, terrified. That's when he squirmed out from the grasp of the scratchy sheet and found the floor, and crawled here, to the very corner of the room. His body hurts, especially his tail and his chest, and he still can't stop coughing, but at least he can see everything from here. Nobody can get him without him knowing first.
@jsbashirmd said: "Sorry, I've got morning breath."
HOW INTERESTING! Julian's breath differs in the morning compared to the rest of the time? This is perhaps only the third time they've spent the full night together, without either of them arriving late, leaving early, or needing to rush off somewhere. Garak tastes the air with a curious tongue. Then he shifts closer to Julian to do it again. There's a mixture of Julian's scents in the air, and this one adds something different, perhaps, but the balance isn't so bad. "You're sorry because... you don't like it?"
incoming private message from LtCmdr J. S. Bashir: Hey, it's you!
attached image:
private message reply from Garak:
How dare you, Doctor. I would never bask in public naked like this individual.
