Chapter Text
From his place propped up on the living room dresser, beloved teddy bear Kukalaka had a good view of Julian’s quarters. And from his place in Julian’s life, he had a good view of Julian’s inner psyche.
Perhaps ‘thoughts’ weren’t something Kukalaka possessed, but a care and consciousness resided within him.
He observed, and radiated constant love.
☪
Blee-bleep.
That was the door. A familiar, if rare noise.
Taking a deep breath, Julian put down his padd, then levered himself up off the sofa and tied his evening robe around his waist for modesty. He slogged his way across his dim quarters and to the doors, a fist hovering against his yawning mouth. “C’me in,” he uttered, once halfway there.
The doors slid open, and Garak the Cardassian stood there in the hallway, a dark shadow of forest green and even more shadowy intention. “Oh dear,” Garak said, apparently surprised by Julian’s haggard appearance – as if he’d be fully dressed at midnight. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
“You are, a bit,” Julian said with a dry look and the barest hint of a smile. “What can I do for you?”
Garak let himself in.
Julian allowed his friend to step past, responding only by following his movement with his body. His hands moved to quickly tighten his robe.
Garak got to the middle of the living room, then turned around to face Julian with a breath caught in his mouth; he brimmed with restrained energy, a raincloud ready to break. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, doctor, but today marks the second time in two weeks that you’ve requested to ‘skip’ our weekly lunch together.”
Julian’s shoulders dropped while his jaw set with trepidation. He shook his head. “I am aware. We can reschedule; I told you that over the commline.”
“Indeed you did. But a break in routine is a very unusual choice for you, doctor. Six years of nigh-undisturbed meetings and you pick two consecutive weeks to disrupt our intertwined schedules. I’m no expert in probability, but I’d hazard a guess that this is not an improbable choice, but a necessary one; a repeated decision to ‘reschedule’ your time with me must surely be related to some... ongoing disturbance in your life.
“Furthermore, on top of finding myself dining alone at Quark’s last week, doctor, imagine my surprise when I discovered that the very lovely dabo girl you’ve been seeing over this past month has been unceremoniously dumped for no apparent reason.”
Julian hung his head.
“Now,” Garak said with no small amount of ire, but a soft touch of concern, “sweet Iñikra is quite unmoved by your changing attitude towards her. Apparently she and you had little more than a passionate fling. But I, on the other hand, took it upon myself to investigate further—”
“Garak!”
“And!” Garak charged on, one hand up to silence Julian’s protests, “to some avail, it seems. Quark informs me you haven’t been into his establishment in a full fortnight. Nurse Jabara let slip that you’ve been taking ten-minute breaks from work at unusual yet predictable times over the same time period.
“Now, under the circumstance that our friendship was the only thing that had been furloughed, perhaps I could put this down to a mistake I’ve made, some upset I’ve caused you, and could react accordingly – but instead I find myself unsure what to do.
“Thus, my dear doctor, I must ask...” He leaned forward, soft-eyed and soft-voiced: “What’s wrong?”
Julian’s mouth slid open, eyes set on Garak’s. “What’s... wrong?”
“If there’s anything I can do to ease your troubled situation, it could be done more effectively if I knew the nature of the problem.”
Julian smiled a little, head tilting fondly. “Garak, there’s nothing wrong. I’m fine. You don’t have to worry. There’s a lot of work on my plate, that’s all. I have a... project... that I’m working on. Everything will be back to normal in a couple of weeks.”
“With quite a number of our lunches missed in the meantime,” Garak uttered. “Perhaps your ex-lover can be so easily deterred, but she is surrounded by friends. When I lose one so dear to me, I feel it, doctor. If there is truly nothing the matter, and all your actions are indeed meaningless, then I believe I have the right to know what I did to offend you so. I can only assume that is the issue. There are any number of other times you could dine with me outside of work hours, or inform me of your project, yet you elected to stand me up. If there’s anything I can do to fix this, doctor, tell me.”
“Garak...” Julian slumped, eyes turning shiny and round. “It’s not you. It really isn’t.”
“Then prove it and tell me the real reason. Since it’s certainly not work.”
Julian hummed, head down. He palmed at his forehead, then ruffled his dark and messy hair. “I’m sorry I left you sitting alone. I didn’t mean to do that.”
“An apology is not what I’m looking for, doctor. Don’t try and dissuade me. I want an explanation.”
Julian huffed a tiny laugh, looking across the two-step gulf between himself and Garak. He hugged himself, slim shoulders rising inside his robe as he let his eyes wander the room. “I’m... just...? Hmmm.”
Garak took a step closer and laid a hand on Julian’s bicep. Their eyes met. “Any secret of yours is safe with me, doctor.”
Julian smiled, genuinely this time. He swallowed and gave in; his shoulders sank, posture relaxing. “Frankly, it’s nothing to do with anyone. It’s entirely personal. I’m just trying to – I don’t know – reconnect, I suppose, with my Muslim heritage.”
Garak searched his eyes. “And this is the ‘project’ that’s taken up so much of your precious time.”
Julian wavered. “It’s not really a project. More of a practise. Again: it’s temporary. Just seeing how it fits. Really, I kind of hate it so far.”
“And yet you persevere.”
“I’m not about to quit, Garak. Not until I’ve seen the month of Ramadan through to the end.”
Garak tilted his head by a few centimetres, finally letting his hand slide down Julian’s arm and drop away. “Tell me, doctor, what is this heritage of yours you’re so keen on reconnecting with?”
Julian shrugged a shoulder as one hand rose to rub the back of his neck. “There’s this seventeen-hundred-year-old Earth religion called ‘Islam’. Originating in the Middle East. That’s... me; that’s my culture; that’s how I was raised as a child.”
Garak, intrigued, followed Julian as he went to sit on the sofa.
Garak sat too, eyes locked on Julian’s face. “The act of reconnecting implies there was a disconnect somewhere down the line.”
“Oh, hugely. When I left Earth,” Julian said, “and left my parents – it was too late, really. I already hated everything they’d shaped me into. Everything they believed about the origin of the universe and how I ought to live my life had been purged from me out of anger.”
“Why let it back in, now?”
“Curiosity, I suppose. Desperation.” Julian shrugged, thumbs fiddling with the waist tie of his robe on his lap. “Major Kira speaks so highly of faith. How it helps people... cope, when there’s little else that helps. I don’t know. I just— I want something. Something that helps me make sense of everything that’s going on in the universe right now. Something that lets me believe this war isn’t all random cruelty; there’s a purpose to it, a meaning in it, even for me personally. Or maybe it’s just a distraction. I’ve needed a distraction.”
“And your Islam helps, does it?”
“No.” Julian bowed forward and set his head in his hands. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“What are you doing that you’re so unsure of? Rama...dan?”
“Hm. Well? Um. Ramadan is... It’s a special month in the Islamic calendar. The calendar goes by lunar months, based on the phases of Earth’s moon. So from new moon to new moon, Muslims – the followers of the Islamic religion – practice abstinence. We devote extra time to pray to God – Allah – and we consciously find value in and show gratitude for our resources. Food, especially.”
Garak waited for more, but none came. “And that troubles you.”
“Well, I’m always hungry and I don’t really see the point of it, so yah.”
Garak chuckled. Then he pondered. “If you’d join me for lunch, doctor, I’m sure you’d be less hungry.”
“No, but that’s the point! I’m not meant to eat. I get up before dawn to pray – an estimated dawn, obviously – twenty-six hour cycles on this station and no real sunlight, so it’s not actually dawn – and I eat breakfast. Then don’t eat or drink until sundown. I’m not meant to eat lunch.”
“Hm...”
“Those are the rules. From sunrise to sunset, I have no food, no water – not even a sip! – no sex. Especially not premarital sex. That’s why I broke up with Iñikra. No alcohol. We’re not even supposed to drink alcohol usually. No ‘unnecessary’ activities, like games or gambling. Definitely not the violent or sexual ones I usually play in the holosuite. I mean, Quark’s bar is basically a smorgasbord of un-Islamic temptation.”
“Ah. Yes. Well, doctor, I see your problem. You’ve indoctrinated yourself into a religion that shuns all enjoyable activities.”
“Urgh, tell me about it.” Julian rubbed his eyes. “But it’s not the religious aspect I’m interested in.”
He sat up straighter, considering his feelings before he spoke. “I’m completely divorced from my family line; no doubt very little original DNA remains after what my parents did. I’m floating in outer space. Literally. And emotionally. I just—
“I came from somewhere. I want to be part of something, I think. Billions of Muslims have come and gone before me, and most of them participated in Ramadan as I’m doing now. I want to feel like I have a family. Like... Like I’m not alone.”
Garak stared. “And yet you extricate yourself from all friendly company.”
Julian glanced at him guiltily. “I really am sorry. I just didn’t want to tell anyone what I was doing. I’m a bit embarrassed, really. This whole thing is so silly.”
“I disagree.” Garak set a hand on Julian’s half-covered knee and squeezed. “Introspection of one’s family ties, whether in thought or in physical practise, is a valued skill in any Cardassian. Your willingness to put your body and lifestyle on the line to engage with something so deeply rooted in your history is quite remarkable, doctor. Even if it does ultimately come to nothing. This is not time or effort wasted.”
“You think?” Julian looked at him hopefully.
“Oh, my dear doctor, a month of toil now could present you with a lifetime of fresh opportunities,” Garak said warmly.
He lifted his hand from Julian’s knee, and the corner of the robe dropped away, revealing Julian’s thigh. Julian tugged the robe back up to cover himself, but by then Garak was already on his feet.
“Now,” Garak said matter-of-factly, straightening his green tunic and giving Julian a gentle smile. “If lunches are off the books for the immediate future, then dawn and dusk meals shall certainly do instead. Would it be impertinent of me to join your fasts in solidarity?”
Julian blinked. “I’m sorry...? Join— You... want to fast too?”
“If I may be permitted.”
Julian’s lips gaped around empty breath, then he shook his head and nodded at once. “Oh. No. I’m sure you’re allowed, and I certainly wouldn’t want to stop you, but—”
“In that case, as you’ve wished, you will not be alone.” Garak bowed his head. “The best of nights to you, doctor. I will see you before daybreak.”
With that, he turned and left.
Julian, now sitting in a new silence, fretted.
He huffed.
Then he got up and went to the dresser where Kukalaka rested, and he picked up his stuffed bear. He gave him a hug – and Kukalaka’s quiet consciousness was overtaken by the colourful inner turmoil churning inside Julian’s belly, flutters in his chest, and the agitation abuzz in his mind.
Kukalaka responded with an outpouring of love, bright light and warmth that sought out each frittering sense in Julian’s soul and soothed it with a fluffy, non-judgemental touch.
Julian pulled out of the hug and looked carefully at Kukalaka, held up almost to eye-level. “Heeee’s not going to do it, is he,” Julian said with an amused lilt. “Garak’s obviously kidding. Of course he won’t actually be here in the morning. I can’t believe he could go three hours without a snack. He couldn’t survive fourteen-hour fasts.”
Julian took Kukalaka towards the bedroom, ready to sleep.
“But,” he uttered, pulling back the covers, “it would be nice, wouldn’t it?”
He snuggled in, cuddling up to his bear.
“Not... doing this alone.”
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