Archive of Our Own

“How bad is it, Chief?” Sisko asked.

O’Brien was already checking his console. “Doesn’t look good. Gonna have to switch to auxillary life support. Deflectors are down, guidance system’s shot, and...”

The pause made everyone’s stomach clench.

Sisko pried, “And what?”

O’Brien looked the Captain in the eye to deliver the bad news. “The core matrix is fried. We don’t have warp drive.”

Garak’s gaze hopped unsurely between O’Brien and Sisko – then he asked, tentatively, “Ah, forgive my ignorance, but if we don’t have warp drive, how long is it going to take us to reach the closest Federation starbase?”

“A looong time, Mr. Garak,” Sisko said wearily.

Garak turned to look at Bashir, along with everyone else. “How long?” Garak asked.

Bashir only needed a moment to calculate, and he gave his answer hopelessly, eyes dull. “Seventeen years... two months... and three days. Give or take an hour.”

Even on a commandeered Jem’Hadar ship, auxiliary power was only meant to be used for short periods of time. Without it, the crew would have no recycled air to breathe, and they would slowly freeze in the epic wasteland between stars. Unless they found a place to land the ship within the next few days, or came across a friendly vessel - unlikely, so close to Dominion space - they’d be in big trouble.

So, on Sisko’s command, Nog sealed off access to the majority of the small ship.

Quarters were barely quarters in the first place, given that the Jem’Hadar had no need for rest – but now, any space besides the Federation-fitted washroom essentially no longer existed. Oxygen and heat were contained only where oxygen and heat were needed. Everyone would be sleeping on the dark, tiny bridge. They brought their fold-up mattresses and waited for bedtime.

It wasn’t like there was anything to do, really, besides help O’Brien fix things. They managed that for a full twenty hours, morale maintained by Jadzia Dax’s undampened spirit, entertained by Sisko’s stories about life at his father’s restaurant, or Garak bickering with whoever cared to spar with him. Bashir was clearly his favourite, and for a long time they kept each other busy, leaving everyone else free to think.

When Bashir was called away to do some actual work, Garak spun a tale of a Klingon wedding he’d made all the clothes for, which kept everyone smiling to themselves, not really minding the Cardassian so much when he could keep their minds off their situation.

But eventually O’Brien had to call the repairs to a halt, as everyone around him was too tired to keep their eyes open.

Everyone but Nog set up camp on the icy metal floor, unfolding their Starfleet mattresses and getting as comfortable as they could without blankets. Garak picked the spot right under the air vent, where the draft was warmest. Dax was next to Sisko, and Bashir found a good spot not too far away, where his long legs wouldn’t be scrunched up against a wall.

“Chief!” Bashir looked as chipper as ever, despite the dark circles under his eyes. He waved O’Brien over and offered him the mattress next to his own. “Saved you a spot.”

“Thanks.” O’Brien knelt down, lay down, and shut his eyes to sleep.

“How’s it all going?” Bashir asked. “Any closer to getting warp online?”

O’Brien grunted.

Bashir shuffled and flumped about, getting settled on his own mattress. “I’m sure we’ll all be fine,” he said. “Nobody here’s giving up.”

O’Brien forced a smile, peeking out just to glance at his friend in acknowledgement, then closing his eyes again.

“Quite the situation, isn’t it,” Bashir went on, no doubt cocking his head and looking up at the ceiling in marvel. “Adrift in space. Just us.”

“Julian,” O’Brien said flatly. “I just need some rest and maybe then I’ll—” He paused to yawn, rolling onto his front. “Dealwhhhit t’morrww.”

Bashir sighed. “Right. Yes. Well, I’d better sleep too, hadn’t I? Dax— Dax!”

“What’s up, Julian?” Dax asked, half-asleep.

“Wake me up if anyone needs me, won’t you?”

Dax murmured, playfully, “Hm, why would we do that, Julian? Your beauty sleep is far more important than anyone’s medical needs.”

Several people chuckled at that, all as sleepy as O’Brien felt. Even Sisko went “Ha.” Bashir harrumphed, but O’Brien heard a smile in there.

“Then...” Bashir wondered, “we just sleep now, yes? And Nog’s on night watch.”

“Yes, sir,” Nog said brightly.

“Right.” Bashir folded his arms. “Well, goodnight, then.”

Everyone gave a noncommittal mumble.

Several quiet minutes passed...

Then Bashir said, “Hwwhhhnjhnnh.”

O’Brien opened his eyes. Bashir looked cross, arms still folded, but his eyes were shut. “Julian,” O’Brien said. “Look, just get some sleep, alright? Talk later.”

Bashir didn’t respond.

O’Brien rolled over, breathing out... and he realised everyone else was asleep. Maybe it had been more than a few minutes.

Doing his best to get back to sleep, O’Brien tried to squash down all thoughts of warp cores and power couplings and wires glowing in colours they shouldn’t. The peace only lasted a moment before Bashir spoke again.

“Just for trees, though,” he said, smacking his lips.

O’Brien rolled over, baffled. “What?”

“Iss important by hnnnhuhhm.”

O’Brien sat up with a sigh. His friend was sleeptalking. Pondering the situation, O’Brien decided not to move his mattress, as he’d have to wake someone else up to take their place. So he settled back down, wishing he had something to stuff into his ears.

“Seven by six, exactly,” Bashir exclaimed, one finger waggling. “That’s Kukalakmhmhnmnn.” He drew in a deep breath and rolled over.

O’Brien scrunched his eyes up tight, hoping for silence.

He waited for silence so long that he fell asleep... only to be woken another unknown amount of time later by a scream.

“Aahhh? AAAAAAA—” Bashir was thrashing around, forehead on his mattress, fingers gripping its square edge. “NononohELPHELP aaaaaAUUAAA—”

“Julian—” O’Brien rolled over fast, hand out, ready to shake his friend awake – but a grey hand gripped his wrist and stopped him.

“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” Garak said softly, releasing O’Brien’s arm and standing tall again. “He doesn’t fall sleep again if you wake him. Not only will you be left with a bridge officer who talks to himself all night to stay focused, but an unrested medical officer, come morning.”

Sisko was sitting up now, head down in his hands. Dax was stretched out on her mattress, groaning to herself. Nog just looked perplexed, standing over by the main console, glowing Jem’Hadar view-piece fitted over his left eye.

O’Brien grunted and sat forward, fist on his forehead. “So we can’t wake him. Can’t make him shut up. The hell do we do, then? Transport him to the brig?”

Sisko hummed a laugh, apparently considering it. But he shook his head, and said, in the slow, thick voice of the deeply fatigued, “Perhaps a sedative.”

“Ah,” Garak said, trudging back to his own mattress, “you’d imagine that would do the trick, wouldn’t you? Yet somehow he only wakes up groggy, and the dreams carry over and double up the following night. If we are to be adrift for any longer than tonight I’d highly recommend against taking that particular action.”

Dax took interest in this statement, propping her torso up on her elbows, peering at Garak. “How do you know so much about Julian’s sleep problems?”

Garak sat on his mattress and looked aloof. “Lieutenant, may I remind you how very many years he and I have spent enjoying lunches together, week after week. There are only so many Cardassian novels and philosophical outlooks in existence, and conversation must move on eventually.”

Amidst all this, Bashir mumbled, “But where’s Kukalaka? Cannuhgffh...”

“Aw,” Dax purred. “He just wants his teddy bear.”

O’Brien chuckled, fingers poked against his eyelids to rub them. Sisko seemed amused and surprised – perhaps he’d never known about Kukalaka.

Garak sighed and lay back. “Trust me, Lieutenant, if the bear made any difference whatsoever, I would have packed it myself.”

Nog piped up, in a cautious tone, “So what does make a difference?”

Everyone looked at Garak.

Garak sniffed a small breath. “If I knew that, don’t you think I’d tell you? I myself am losing precious hours of sleep. And I do enjoy my sleep.”

Sisko flopped back to his mattress, hands over his eyes, elbows in the air.

At a reasonable volume for daytime but loud in the dark, Bashir said, “Nnooo, looks perfect, Garak... Donnhh thhhe back upfff me...”

Everyone again gave Garak a curious look. Garak perched with his arms around his bent knees, looking ponderously at the doctor.

“Does he dream about you often, Garak?” Dax asked, sweetly.

“I’d hardly know,” Garak said, with considerable defiance.

“Eliiihhhmmm,” Bashir moaned, not in a happy way. “Hmmmm cold. C’mm bahhck. M’ sorry...”

Now Garak seemed to shrink inside the nest of his own arms, his wide eyes shining with self-awareness and what looked like embarrassment.

Bashir rolled over again, on his back now, begging to the whole crew, “Just a cuddle...”

Dax giggled into a fist, while Sisko actually started laughing – “Ah-hee-hee-hee -hee!” – and Nog covered his nose and mouth with fast hands to hold back his guffaw, but a loud snort got through.

“Mr. Garak,” Sisko said cheerfully, “it does appear he’s addressing you.”

Garak glared at Sisko. “Captain, he doesn’t know what he’s saying, it’s nonsense.”

“Garaaaahhhhk,” Bashir droned, sounding more upset. “Didn’t mean it...”

O’Brien rolled his eyes, huffing. “Look,” he said, torso upright now, jabbing a finger in the Cardassian’s direction. “Julian may be asleep but he knows it’s you talking. He’s responding to Garak’s harsh tone,” he explained to the others. “He gets grouchy and – look! – now Julian’s all whiny.”

Indeed, Bashir complained, “Hmmnnhjnn,” pouting and squirming. “Shhh. Miles.”

Garak chuckled. “It appears, Mr. O’Brien, that it’s not just me he knows, after all. I think this proves beyond all doubt that—”

“Miles!” Bashir cried. “You didn’t knock.”

O’Brien looked down at his friend in despair. “Why would I knock? I’m right here, you ninny.”

Bashir’s sleepy hands rucked up his uniform, a little breathless noise flying from his lips as he covered himself, crotch and chest. “Where’s Garak...”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” Sisko said, massaging his forehead. “O’Brien, take Garak’s mattress. Garak.” Sisko stabbed a finger towards Bashir. “Take his place.”

“What?! But sir—” O’Brien argued, as Garak exclaimed, “Captain, I really must protest—”

“That’s an order! Both of you! Now!”

O’Brien was the first to get up, sucking his sour tongue and padding annoyedly over to Garak. Garak was reluctant to leave the air vent behind, looking back at it twice, thrice, then one more time as he passed O’Brien in solemn silence, head down, eyes averted.

The good news was that O’Brien liked the air vent; it was warm. The bad news was that Garak lay down beside Bashir and it seemed to make no difference to him at all.

“Get oUT! GET OUT!” Bashir yelled, kicking the metal wall. “Nohhhhuhh...”

Garak lay stiff beside him, unresponding, eyes open, hands in fists.

“Mr. Garak,” Sisko warned. “If it’s your privacy you’re worried about, I’d suggest you leave that idyllic notion behind. He’s giving enough away as it is.”

“That he is,” Garak said smoothly, “but you make it sound as if there was something I could do about this... situation.”

“Isn’t there?” Sisko’s tone was cool as steel.

“I know only what I’ve shared with you,” Garak said.

Sisko sighed. “I’ve heard enough lies, Garak. My officers need sleep. Unless you calm him I’ll be forced to find you and your boyfriend somewhere else to sleep. Like, for example, the brig. And might I remind you that the Jem’Hadar are not as courteous towards their prisoners as the Federation. You may find it... cramped.”

Oh, that got Garak’s attention. He made a tiny distressed noise.

“So,” Garak said, trying to act nonchalant, “what you’re saying is, Captain, you’re... ordering me... to—”

“I’m ordering you to cuddle him, Mr. Garak,” Sisko said, smiling.

Dax drummed her middle a few times in delight as Nog grinned his silly Ferengi grin and O’Brien thought about how utterly, wildly, raving mad Julian was going to be once he woke up.

He sounded pretty mad now, too. He thrashed about, yelling, gasping, telling people to leave him alone, clearly upset by all the attention. O’Brien had had enough nightmares about being naked in Engineering to recognise a man feeling unspeakably vulnerable. Even asleep, Bashir had a grasp of the general vibe around him.

Garak sighed. “As you command, Captain,” he said in resignation. He swallowed, flexing his hands... then he let go of a slow breath, and rolled off the mattress formerly belonging to O’Brien, and onto Bashir’s mattress.

Garak hesitated, but then relaxed, and put a kiss on Bashir’s neck. “There’s nothing to fear, my dear,” he murmured. “I’m here with you, now. Relax.”

Bashir did. He sighed, slumped, and groaned in relief, rolling with Garak’s arm until they were embracing front-to-back. Soon Julian lay as cradled and protected as Keiko was by Miles when they lay down to sleep.

Silence.

O’Brien’s eyebrows rose. “Wow.”

Slyly, Dax remarked, “Garak’s arms almost seem familiar to him, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yeah!” Nog snickered. “Bet they sleep together all the time, huh?”

Sisko tutted. “I’ll hear no teasing, thank you,” he told the crew. “If he helps keep Dr. Bashir quiet I’m not complaining. And I’d suggest none of you do, either.”

“Oh, I have no complaints, Captain,” Garak purred, nuzzling Bashir’s neck. “He’s much, much warmer than the air vent.”

A few gentle laughs rose and fell after that statement. Even O’Brien smiled, quietly glad they weren’t going to have a chilly Cardassian assassin on board as well as a grouchy doctor.

The quiet, soft sigh of Julian Bashir’s satisfaction was the last thing anyone heard that night, and it was a good noise.

O’Brien was the first up, and let Nog get some rest while he got to work, Jem’Hadar view-piece over one eye, sipping on something he wished was coffee but wasn’t.

One by one, the rest of the crew stirred, yawned their way to the bathroom, and then came back, ready to help out. Sisko was first, followed by Dax and the few ensigns who hadn’t said a word last night.

Everyone made themselves busy, but stayed quiet, talking in whispers and stepping carefully around the nest that Garak and Bashir shared on the far side of the bridge.

The couple slept for almost an hour longer than everyone else, but when Bashir stirred, Garak kissed his neck, and O’Brien realised – just peeking out of the corner of his eye, not watching them or anything – that Garak had been conscious for a long time, and had just been waiting for Bashir to wake.

Bashir rolled over, confused. He found himself face-to-face with Garak, and withdrew a little, hyper-aware of the other people in the same room. But Garak whispered something O’Brien didn’t completely catch, but got the gist of: “It’s all right, doctor. They know.”

Bashir sucked in a breath, halfway-sitting, but Garak soothed him with a kiss on the hand, and the doctor lay down again, fingers palming his forehead and combing anxiously back through his hair.

“How?” Bashir asked in a low voice.

Garak just shook his head, sparing Bashir the embarrassment of the truth. “I told them,” he murmured, just loud enough for O’Brien to hear. Garak then kissed Bashir sweetly on the lips. Bashir’s eyebrows rose, eyes shut, and he nudged into the affection, breathing out and letting himself be squeezed around the waist.

O’Brien smiled, lowering his not-coffee to the console he stood at. He sensed Dax look up beside him. She grinned and flung out an arm to get Sisko’s attention. Sisko glanced at her, then followed her eyeline to the makeshift bed in the corner.

“Good morning, doctor!” Sisko said brightly.

Bashir sat up so fast he had to put a hand on the wall to keep himself steady. “Captain!”

“Sleep well?” Dax asked.

“Oh, oh,” Bashir said, haltingly. “Um.” He licked his lower lip, and managed, “Y-Yes. Not too bad.”

Sisko smiled, then grinned. “Glad to hear it. Now if you wouldn’t mind, we could use Garak’s assistance on the deflector arrays. If you could spare us an arm, or perhaps if that’s too big an ask, a hand would do...”

Bashir realised he was still clinging to Garak’s hug, making him hold on. Hurriedly, he let Garak extricate himself and get up. Bashir got up too, blushing as he folded his mattress and propped it against a console.

Ten minutes later, O’Brien glanced up from a tangle of wires, finding Bashir loitering nearby.

“What’s up, Julian?” O’Brien asked.

“Miles...” Bashir hesitated. “I... I didn’t, um... snore, or anything, last night, did I?”

“Snore? No.”

“Or... or make any other... strange noises?”

O’Brien kept his eyes on his work, tone impassive, as he said, quite truthfully, “Not that strange.”

Bashir considered the wording of that sentence. “You mean, it’s not too... weird,” he said, and O’Brien turned to look him in the eye. “Me... being with Garak.”

O’Brien offered a smile. “Look, we’re adrift in space for the next seventeen years and only enough power to last a few days. Would take a helluva lot more than a doctor with a lizard for a bedmate to shake the nerves of this crew at a time like this, I’ll tell ya that much.”

Bashir gave him a grateful smirk. “Somehow I thought you’d be... I don’t know – angry.”

“Puh.” O’Brien clapped his friend on the arm. “Just... glad you’re happy. Even if it’s with him.”

Bashir kept smiling, chin to his chest. “You, um... need any help?”

“Ugh, I’m beyond help,” O’Brien muttered, but added, “Pass me that thing, would you?” waggling a hand at his toolbox.

Bashir did as he was asked, and not once did that smile fade.

“M-CLASS PLANET!” Garak bellowed from the centre of the bridge, arms thrust in the air in jubilation. He turned to face the crew, that view-piece glowing over one eye. He grinned, and announced again, pointing to his right, “Someone make a turn! In that direction, please! There’s a nebula with a planet inside! A bit barren but good enough, surely.”

As the news registered in their distracted minds, the small crew began to applaud, and whistle, and holler in relief. Dax laid in the co-ordinates as Garak read them to her, and Nog stirred from his nap to smile.

Sisko laughed, hands on his hips, and nodded to Dax. “Engage.”

The journey didn’t feel a whole lot different, even after the heading changed. Only Garak and Sisko could see the way ahead through the view-pieces, and the ship just glided along slowly. But now there was real hope, which felt spectacular.

“Two days,” Bashir said, sidling up to Garak and butting him with a shoulder. They shared a smile. “Two days, six hours, and forty-three minutes at this speed, and we’ll make it there. Nice spotting.”

“My sense of hearing may not be all that good, but my eyes are in fine working order,” Garak said humbly.

Bashir opened his mouth wide and said, “Aha! So that’s why you put up with all my sleep-muttering. You can’t even hear me, is that it?”

“Hardly,” Garak said, wrapping an arm around Bashir’s waist. “I could think of a hundred far sweeter reasons I put up with you, my dear doctor.” He turned his head and set a kiss on Bashir’s cheek. “The fact you can’t sleep without me is just one.”

Bashir glanced at O’Brien, who quickly pretended not to look, and not to hear, opening up a wall panel he didn’t need to open.

But he did hear Bashir’s one little whisper... “It’s not that I can’t sleep without you, Elim,” Bashir said, too tenderly for any eavesdroppers’ hearts to bear. “It’s more that I don’t really want to.”

The soft smack of a kiss came after.

Bashir then patted Garak on the shoulder and left him be.

Well, until later, that is.

In the ensuing nights, everyone on board looked forward to seeing Mr. Garak and Dr. Bashir wrapped up in an intimate embrace once they all settled down to sleep, knowing what followed could only be a quiet, pleasant rest on their way to salvation.