#tbw you're flat and depressed so your writing comes out flat and depressed

[walkingstackofbooks]

Julian wasn't certain why, exactly, he was pulling away from Garak, but ever since their return for the gamma quadrant, that was definitly what he was doing. He'd never minded Garak's small, discrete touches before - in fact, he'd courted them: a hand on his back, the brush of their shoulders - but now, he found, he couldn't stand them.

Having no explanation for why, though, he took to avoiding the Cardassian entirely, rather than risk facing questions he could not answer. He ignored the growing guilt, too, for whatever reasons Garak would be coming up with for this new turn in their relationship. He was just taking time, he reasoned to himself, and that was fair enough, wasn't it?

On the other hand, Julian knew exactly why he was avoiding Miles. While he wondred if he was maybe overreacting, his friend's comment had cut him deeply, and it was obvious that Miles hadn't even thought twice about it. So it was logical, really, for Julian to take time off from their darts evenings and holosuite sessions. If Miles had found him difficult to get along with before, what would he make of this new Julian that had returned from the camp, who seemed to have had any light, positive thing ripped out of him by the Dominion?

--

His closest friends shut off from him, Julian found his refuge in Jadzia. Not purposefully - he'd assumed, with Worf's injuries, she'd be looking after her partner - but the Klingon, seemingly, hadn't wanted to be doted on, so Jadzia had found someone else to be her target. Namely, Julian.

He wasn't going to complain. Her hugs were warm and her smiles were soft and Julian could let his guard down, a little, around her. Not completely, of course - there were more than a few things he didn't want getting back to the captain, lest he find his leave of duty extended even further - but enough to allow him to feel truly relaxed, at times.

Quite quickly, it became normal for him to spend the evenings in her quarters, not really doing much, but not needing to do much, either. Worf often joined them— although, really, on those nights, Julian felt as though he were joining them, and wondered how much the Klingon resented his constant intrusions into his and Jadzia's alone time. Jadzia didn't stop asking him over, though, and Julian couldn't bring himself to refuse, no matter what Worf's unspoken feelings might be.

As it happened, he was mistaken, anyway. One night, Martok appeared for dinner, greeting Julian loudly and immediately taking the seat next to him. Julian stiffened, fearing the resurgence of memories from the camp, or that inexplicable urge to withdraw, that Martok's presence might bring out. Neither came, though, and he didn't even flinch when Martok brought a heavy hand to land on his shoulder. The evening all but flew by, and when it was time to leave, Julian surprised himself by accepting the Klingon's offer to walk him back to his quarters. He was quiet company - despite Julian's best efforts, he was still not good company, after the camp - but Martok was kind enough not to point this out.

The general became a regular guest after that, to Julian's muted delight. Muted, since in reality, it was more a dim awareness that Martok's presence pleased him, more than anything else. But even more than it did Jadzia, an unmistakeable sense of safety emanated off the large Klingon, and Julian could hardly believe that he was invited to share in it - and more, that all three of them seemed willing to put up with Julian, evening after evening.

He would find out much later that it was Worf's orchestrations that had brought Martok to their table - Worf the pragmatist, the romantic - who was already looking forward to the day when Jadzia might agree to join the House of Martok, and saw in Julian an opportunity to smooth the way. Jadzia laughed as she told him how her husband had hoped that Julian's admiration of Martok would rub off in her, and that his fondness for her would influence the general in return - and how apparently, Worf's plan had worked! Julian laughed too, glad to discover that he hadn't been quite as useless a guest as he'd imagined himself to be at the time.

--

After the debacle with his parents, and the discovery that his life hadn't actually imploded, Julian finally went to confront Miles. He couldn't quite figure out how he felt about the way Miles had been so supportive two nights before, but the fact was that Miles had been overwhelmingly supportive, even if Julian had only realised afterwards how much, once the shock had worn off enough for him to start thinking about anything other than his own feelings.

So he went to the chief's quarters and rang the chime, and Miles welcomed him in with a worried smile and an assurance that Keiko and the kids were all out and so did Julian want to talk? Are you alright?

Julian faced him bravely. "Do you think I'm difficult to get along with?" he asked.

He wasn't sure what he'd expected, but it certainly wasn't for Miles to straighten with a scowl, vibrating with anger, demanding, "Are people giving you trouble about your enhancements?"

Julian wasn't sure how to answer that, because yes of course some people had, but it wasn't that big a deal, and besides, that wasn't what he'd been asking. So he shook his head, backtracking.

"I meant— You said, the changeling was easier to get along with..."

In an instant, Miles' face had shuttered, falling completely. "Shit," he said, looking for all the world like Julian had just punched him in the gut. "Is that why you've been avoiding me?"

Julian nodded uncertainly.

"Fuck," said Miles, wiping a hand over his face. "Shit, Julian, it was a joke, it was— I never thought you'd take it seriously. If I'd have known... I'm sorry, Julian. God. I'm sorry."

A joke. Of course it had been a joke. That's what he and Miles did, joke and jibe and pretend their feelings ran no deeper than that. He really had been overreacting.

"Well, I don't know... it's pretty difficult to get along with someone who avoids you for weeks over a joke," he tried quipping, but his voice came out devoid of humour, and he winced as Miles' face fell even further.

"God, no, that's not what I meant at all - it was a stupid thing to say, I should have known that. You're not— that's not— You're my friend, Julian..."

Miles trailed off, seemingly unable to meet Julian's eyes. It was strange, his words should have made Julian feel better, but Julian wasn't sure that they had. His chest was still thrumming with anxiety, he still felt kind of tight and sick and damn it, earlier he'd known why Miles made him feel like that, but now— now he didn't.

"Fuck. It really upset you, didn't it?" Miles asked quietly. "But why— why tell me now? After all this time..?"

Julian shrugged. "I had to know," he said. "After my parents... you know. The other evening, some of the things you said - they just, I don't know. Seemed like something a friend would say—"

"Fuck," Miles said again. "Fuck, Julian. Shit, if you feel like that, I—"

He broke off, his face lighting up with an idea. "Julian?" he asked, quickly. "The research Zimmerman did on you - do you think he still has it? Do you think we could hack into it?"

"I-I don't know," stammered Julian, the sudden change in topic putting him at a loss. "Why?"

Miles shook his head. "I'll explain if I manage to do it," he said.

--

The next day, Julian got a message from Miles. I hate sending you this, it said, but I definitely couldn't do this in person. Attached was a audio clip, which, when he clicked on it, played Zimmerman's voice, then Miles'. This was the answer the the hacking question, then, Julian presumed.

He ended up playing it on repeat, feeling quite awful that he'd ever doubted his friend.

"...the truth is he's an extraordinary person. A real sense of honour and integrity, great sense of humour, warm, caring. You're sure he's not going to hear this?"