Work Text:
The Eulogy
by Sofie, aka Sakura, aka So', etc.
"Being stabbed with a Bat'leth couldn't hurt as much as this..."
Bashir looked at the solemn faces staring back at him or avoiding his eyes completely. He turned to those who didn't really want to be there, but had come anyway, perhaps as a token of silent support. When he spoke, most heads snapped up to look at him. He supposed they weren't prepared for such a forward statement. Most people looked surprised. Rom looked genuinely sad, just like Leeta. Quark fidgeted where he stood, probably working out just how much profit he might have made if his bar weren't tended to by a handful of his employees.
Arranging a memorial service for Garak was... difficult. Sisko insisted on it, since he had been of good service to the Federation. Bashir agreed, silently biting down on the bile rising in his throat. Not even realizing he'd looked away, he turned back to those few paying any attention to him.
"I have been trying to write a suitable speech ever since Captain Sisko suggested this ceremony. Now that I stand here, I realize nothing I've written would make Elim Garak any justice. You see, even after knowing him for more than half a decade, I still haven't learned a thing. I'm still blinded by the simplistic terms of right and wrong that I was fed daily by the very society I grew up in," he cleared his throat, seeing it as an opportunity to pause before he went on. "I used to describe Elim as a friend, and somewhat of a mentor, when people asked me about our rather unorthodox relationship. He was more than a friend to me, and I hope I was more than just another narrow-minded Human to him. I *know* he cared about me. I don't think he would have wasted so much time with me if all he wanted was a Federation specimen to analyse and criticize... Though, come to think of it, that's what he usually did.
"Needless to say, some of my friends were worried about my initial fascination with Elim. I suppose I seemed a bit overwhelmed by him. I suppose I was. I had never had someone just sneak up on me, striking up conversation right out of the blue. If you've ever been involved in a discussion with him, you know he is one of the most eloquent men on this station. I guess 'was' is a more appropriate word," his mouth quirked up in the shadow of a bitter smile. He didn't feel like smiling, but he couldn't help it. He supposed it was better than crying in front of everyone. In public. Make a spectacle of himself, show weakness where there should only be blank acceptance. He doubted Elim would condone such refusal of emotion, but he knew he would've understood in his own way.
"I would like to say that ..." he sighed, not quite sure just what he wanted to communicate. "I'd like to take comfort in the knowledge that Elim is in a better place now, but the fact is, even though we've discussed the different belief systems on Cardassia and Earth, I still don't know if he believed in any of them. And even if he did have a faith of his own, there's no way of knowing if there is such a thing as an afterlife for him. For all I know, one of my dearest friends have ceased to exist for all eternity, left in stasis in the infirmary until he can have a proper Cardassian funeral," another, heavier sigh.
The back of his eye sockets itched and burned, but he squared his jaws and persisted.
"For all I know, none of you are here because you actually liked Elim. I don't know if you really care that he's dead. But you are here, and that must mean something. There will never be another man quite like Elim Garak. I for one, hope there never will be. May he rest in peace. God knows he deserves it," he bowed his head, blinking furiously a couple of seconds before straightening up and reclaiming his seat. He sighed heavily, listening to Captain Sisko offering a few words as a suitable end to the ceremony. He assured everyone that the Defiant would be available for a while longer if anyone wanted to stay for a while. Julian stared resolutely at the myriad of candles lit around the mess hall. He never thought he'd help arrange a memorial service in a *mess hall*, on a battle ship, for someone he loved so much *nothing* could hurt him. But now that Elim was gone... He wanted to scream, to crumble to the floor and cry out in pure anguish, to tear his quarters apart with his bare hands. He'd already booked a holosuite at Quark's, one of the programs he and Elim used to enjoy together. He had wrecked every single breakable object and then ordered the computer to reset the program. He had no idea how many times he'd repeated the process, but it didn't help. No matter how many times he threw expensive-looking things into the walls, it did nothing to numb the pain.
He waited as a few people took their time, lighting candles or reciting prayers, but it didn't take long before he was left alone with Captain Sisko. He hadn't taken his eyes off the candles, taking what comfort he could from their warmth. Garak loved candles. He moved to stand in front of them, lighting yet another one. One after the other, he lit them all until there were no more candles, cherishing the soothing warmth of repetition. Sisko moved to stand beside him.
"I am sorry things couldn't have been different between the two of you," he said softly, the deep resonance of his voice sounding much too loud in the silence. Julian simply nodded.
"They could have been very different, Captain," he whispered. "But they weren't. I appreciate your concern."
Sisko inclined his head where he stood, neither man willing to make eye contact. "But, it isn't enough. It never is. No amount of concern is enough. I know much too well."
"I'm inclined to disagree, Captain," Julian cleared his throat against the pain. "You were married. You were accepted as a couple, as a family. No one would ever jump to conclusions about why you were together. Elim and I never had that luxury."
"I didn't mean to add insult to injury, Doctor..." Sisko hung his head, shaking it, then turned to face Julian. "I wish things were different, that there were no politics involved in love, but in times of war, there is."
"Yes, Captain Sisko. I understand," Julian clenched his teeth. "I've accepted having my relationship with Elim hidden from the public eye as a necessity. I've kept it secret for years, never questioning the legitimacy of hiding *love*, of treating *love* as something to be ashamed of, something that's dangerous, politically incorrect even," he turned to look Sisko squarely in the eyes. "I wanted this war to end as soon as possible, not simply because the Dominion is an awful, hideous force that destroys lives wherever it goes, but because there might be even the slightest chance of our relationship to be legitimate. I used to revel in keeping secrets from others, of being part of something mysterious. But there's nothing mysterious about having to keep your relationship a complete secret for the good of the Federation, because Starfleet believes it wouldn't be politically wise to have one of its higher ranking officers openly involved with a Cardassian spy."
Sisko seemed at a loss of what to say. He nodded, and went back to looking at the candles burning slowly.
Bashir bowed his head, wanting nothing more than to find refuge in a dark place somewhere far away where he could stay undisturbed, but he couldn't move his feet. He didn't know how long he'd stood there when Sisko told him it was time to go. He didn't want to leave, but he let himself be led away, off the Defiant.
He found himself walking to the infirmary, to the stasis unit. He locked the door behind him and ordered the computer only to unlock at his command. He stepped up to the stasis chambers. They reminded him of pictures he'd seen of the freezers at the old Earth's morgues. He dialled in the authorization codes to Elim's chamber and watched as it slid open. The stasis fields were still in place. It felt like he was looking through glass, unable to touch, robbed of every sensory input but the visual. He blinked away tears and tried to clear his throat of the painful constriction that had stuck with him since Elim's death.
"You'd be surprised at how many people showed up for your memorial service, habibi..." he whispered, looking down at the face of his lover.
He ached to touch and be touched, but he kept his arms rigidly at his sides. Garak looked so tranquil, but too pale in the harsh illumination. Frowning at the inappropriacy of it all, Bashir ordered the lights to fifty percent.
"There. That's better," he smiled, but faltered. It wouldn't matter to Elim if Bashir adjusted the lights. He weren't alive to appreciate the thought. "I'm sorry. I don't know what to do with myself. I have to be strong, detached, but I can't!" he clamped a hand over his mouth, hating himself for raising his voice. "I'm sorry," he whispered urgently. "I'm so sorry, Elim... I never meant to hurt you. Never ever... you weren't supposed to die... It's my fault," he nodded, as if emphasizing his point to a sceptic audience. "No, it is. It's not just something I said because I'm so filled with grief I can't think straight. I never meant to hurt you..." he sobbed. "I didn't know..."
A surge of anger filled him, and the banged a fist down on the barrier keeping him from Elim, "This is exactly why doctors should never operate on someone they're emotionally attached to!" he growled. "It makes you think irrationally, too much emotion enters the picture! You make mistakes!" he slumped against the wall. "And sometimes the cost is more than you can bare..."
He stood up straight again, letting his hands trail across the surface of the stasis barrier. He looked at Elim. Really looked, knowing it was the last time he'd ever see him. Everything hurt. The pain multiplied as he looked at Garak's serene face and knew he'd never look into those wonderful eyes that once sparkled with life. He'd never see those lips quirk into a devilish grin, or hear his laughter again. Never feel the warmth of his proximity ever again... It felt as if he'd explode into a thousand pieces if he couldn't feel Elim's arms around him just once more.
As Julian fell, the world shattered with him.
The End