Chapter Text
“Attention passengers,” said the smooth, automated voice from the speakers. “The R.T. Telava will be docking at Deep Space 9 in one hour. Please secure all specimens and lab equipment.”
Julian sat back from his microscope and stretched broadly.
“I think they’re really on to something with these researcher transports,” he said to Jadzia. “Three days travel turned into three days of uninterrupted research time, absolutely brilliant.”
“I agree,” Jadzia said. She gripped the arms of her chair and twisted first left and then right, her spine audibly popping. “I think I might actually be able to finish my paper on electromagnetic pulsar waves in this lifetime. How were your burn cure experiments?”
“Successful!” Julian said proudly, carefully placing his samples in the slide holder. “I’ve finally cracked a formula that will penetrate Tygarian scales to get at the burned skin underneath and cool the scales down in the process to prevent further damage.”
Jadzia lit up.
“Julian, that’s amazing!”
“I am, aren’t I?” Julian said. He gazed off into the distance with a wildly exaggerated smug expression. “Perhaps they’ll give me an award. Maybe even create a new award and name it after me.”
He shot Jadzia a grin – mostly to share the joke but also to make sure she knew it was a joke. Her wry smile and shake of the head told him she did know. Julian knew he’d always have a bit of an ego – no one’s perfect, after all – but he’d at least learned to be less of an ass about it.
“Are you far enough along in your paper that you’re willing to tell me what it’s about?” he asked as he unlocked his assigned cabinet and began to lock the containers into the secure hatches.
“Not until the first draft is done,” she said. Jadzia was a firm believer that the surest way to never finish any writing was to tell someone about it. “I will tell you that not having to stop and deal with a crisis every three hours meant I was finally able to follow the citation trail and find the original source to a claim about graviton attractions.”
“And what did you find?” Julian asked, pulling the protective sheet over his microscope. Jadzia grinned wickedly.
“That I’m going to make a lot of people really mad.”
Julian put a hand over his heart.
“Every scientist’s greatest dream,” he said solemnly.
The ship trembled beneath their feet.
“Uh oh,” Jadzia said. The comm overhead beeped.
“Attention passengers, this is your pilot speaking. We’ve hit a small ion storm. Please brace yourselves for some slight turb—”
The ship shuddered violently, rattling Julian’s teeth in his skull. The lights overhead flickered wildly. Suddenly the ship yawed wildly to one side; Jadzia was able to grab onto her chair but Julian was thrown off his feet.
On the other side of the room was a row of tall metal shelves, heavy with clear sample containers of various sizes.
The shelves were wheeled.
The wheels had not been locked in place.
In a sort of slow-motion terror, Julian watched the shelves begin to slide towards him. Faster and faster, picking up speed and he had to do something but he couldn’t figure out what. Too late, his brain managed to catch up to the situation, but all Julian could do was curl into a ball and shield his face with his arms.
The shelves slammed into his side and tipped forward, crashing against the table. The sample containers – glass, all glass, who even used glass anymore? – smashed to pieces, drenching him in liquid. Julian screwed his eyes and mouth shut, not even daring to breathe.
“Julian!”
A hand grabbed his arm, dragging him out from under the still-falling shower of liquid and glass, and onto his feet. It forced him backwards until he felt the texture of the floor change slightly. The cold spray of a chemical shower hit so suddenly Julian almost gasped, but he managed to turn it into a sharp inhale through his nose.
He didn’t want to know what would happen if he got it in his mouth.
“Computer!” Jadzia called, fear audible but strictly contained. “Identify contamination risks!”
“Non-toxic. Non-poisonous. No fumes detected.”
Julian opened his mouth and sucked in a lungful of air.
“Non-radioactive. Non-corrosive. Non-reactive.”
His knees went weak but Jadzia’s hand was still fisted in his uniform, holding him upright. The shower pressure softened; the stream of water slowed to a trickle and then cut off entirely. Julian felt the rough fabric of a towel against his eyelids, patting the skin dry, primary focus on his eyelashes and the seams of the lids.
When the towel withdrew he dared to open his eyes. Jadzia was ghost pale down to her lips, her markings looking almost black in comparison. Her grip was strong but she was trembling – or maybe that was him. Or possibly both of them. They were certainly both breathing hard. Julian’s heart was rabbit-fast against his ribcage.
“Are you okay?” Jadzia asked. Julian nodded, although it took him a few seconds to find his voice.
“I think so. You?”
“Once the leftover adrenaline is out of my system, I’ll be fine,” she said. She released her grip on him; Julian saw her hand was trembling.
He slumped back against the wall of the chemical shower and shut his eyes, willing his own adrenaline spike to settle. Another towel was pushed into his hands. Julian ran it over his hair, squeezing out the mixture of chemical solvent and whatever had been in the containers.
“Computer,” Jadzia said. “Identify contaminant spill.”
“Concentrated pheromone samples.”
Julian froze. Very slowly, heart sinking, he pushed the towel back from his face.
“What kind of pheromones?”
“Pheromones related to the sexual and reproductive processes of 47 unique humanoid races.”
Julian shut his eyes.
“Oh…good.”
The Bolian scientist responsible for failing to properly secure the sample cart had apologized approximately seventeen times before Julian had extricated himself from the conversation. He left the Bolian being shouted at in turn by his supervisor, his colleagues, and the ship’s commander. It was vaguely satisfying, but did not solve his problem.
The only showers available on the research transport were sonic. Julian took one, but knew that it was not going to help. The pheromones had already been absorbed into his skin and it was going to take a very long, water-based shower and a lot of scrubbing before Julian was properly cleaned.
At least he could change his clothes.
The goal now was to get from the ship to his quarters without any significant incidents or embarrassments for anyone, including – especially – himself.
Major Kira met them at the docking bay, her brow puckered with concern.
“We were told there was an incident in the lab,” she said. “Is everything…is everything…alright…?”
Her pupils expanded. Her breath came slightly faster. Her cheeks began to flush.
“Um…are…I’m sorry, I think…I’m…” She couldn’t drag her eyes away from Julian even as her expression grew increasingly alarmed.
Julian sighed.
“Don’t worry, Major. You are not suddenly and violently attracted to me. I have been doused in the sexual pheromones of multiple species, including, apparently, Bajoran.”
“Try breathing through your mouth,” Jadzia advised, tone sober but eyes twinkling. “That’s what I’ve been doing.”
Julian shot her a glare. Jadzia grinned.
“It’s a little funny,” she said in response to his silent rebuke.
“For you maybe.”
Kira raised her hand to her face. Julian thought at first it was to cover her nose…and then the Major’s shoulders started to shake.
“Oh, not you too!”
“I’m sorry,” Kira said, her voice strangled.
“It’s not funny!” he exclaimed.
“Should—” she started, her voice quavering. “Should we assign you a security detail to ensure you aren’t—aren’t—”
“Jumped and ravished on my way to my quarters?” Julian finished acidly.
Kira nodded, her face twisting as she fought to keep her expression serious.
“Oh, it’s worse than that,” Jadzia said cheerfully. “The scientists were studying the strength of instinct over socialization, particularly the psychological effects of individuals reacting to animalistic responses that might no longer be socially relevant. Right now, depending on the species, Julian is indicating that he’s gravid, pregnant, in musth, proclaiming dominance, declaring non-dominance, marking his territory—”
Kira broke, letting out a long wheeze that devolved into silent laughter.
“I’m sorry,” Kira gasped. “Julian, I’m so—”
“If you’ll excuse me,” Julian said stiffly. “I am going to my quarters now.”
He stalked off, ears burning, their cackling laughter following him all the way down the hall.
It didn’t get any better. It was a long way from the docking bay to his rooms, and heads turned everywhere he went. He could have given the Bolians plenty of interesting data, if he was in any mood to be helpful.
For example, the less like a Human a species looked, the more likely the individual was to recoil from their arousal, turning away from him with expressions of alarm or disgust. There was some variation on the individual, too. One Antaran woman couldn’t meet his eyes; another licked her lips and gave him a look so penetrating he had to fight the urge to check he was still wearing his uniform.
Not everyone connected their reactions to his presence, which was a relief. One reptilian male, desperately struggling to retract his neck frill as he apologized to his companion, didn’t seem to have any idea why he had just tried to bite his friend’s head crest off. As sympathetic as Julian was towards the confusion, he much preferred it to the staring.
He was halfway across the promenade when three Bufonians came tumbling out of a shop, looking around frantically, neck pouches pulsing. They paused, straightening, expressions puzzled. Julian tried not to make eye contact but too late – one of them had seen him and, very unfortunately, connected the scent with him.
Julian sped up. As he rounded a corner, he checked from the corner of his eye and yes, there they were, following him. Julian did not want to know why – being accosted by three people in the middle of a crowd was going to be embarrassing whether they wanted to attack or proposition.
He knew where he was, though, and safe harbor was within reach if he could just get around that corner and slide through this group of people and now he could hear the wet slap of Bufonian feet on the floor and he was almost there and any second now one of them was going to shout after him—
Julian lunged into Garak’s shop and slammed the door behind him. Garak, rearranging bolts of fabric, didn’t even jump.
“Doctor!” he said, but his smile fell away when he saw the look on Julian’s face. “My dear doctor, whatever is the matter?”
“I am having,” Julian said grimly, “a very unpleasant day.”
All the bolts and layers of fabric in the shop provided a sound dampening effect, and Julian felt himself starting to relax as that muffled quiet seeped into him. It gave him a sense of safety, peace, even belonging.
Or, he thought wryly, it was the presence of the shop owner, currently approaching with a hand outstretched to guide him in.
“I hope nothing went wrong on your trip? You were so enthusiastic about this conference.”
“Oh the conference was fine,” Julian said. “More than fine, actually, I met — well, I’ll tell you about him later. No, there was an accident in the lab on the transport ship. I wasn’t hurt,” he hurried to add. “It just resulted in some very, very annoying…side effects…”
Garak had frozen a few feet away, hand hovering by Julian’s elbow.
“Garak…?”
The Cardassian’s mouth trembled. His eyes were wide and filled with some terrible emotion that made Julian’s stomach drop. He swayed and Julian reached out to steady him. Instantly Garak snapped out of it, turning his back on Julian and striding back to his work bench.
“I’m terribly sorry about your bad day, Doctor, but I think perhaps you should go.”
“Oh no,” Julian groaned, shoulders slumping and head falling back. “The pheromones. You can smell them.”
“Of course I can,” Garak said, and Julian was sure he heard the faintest tremor in his voice. “Cardassian pheromones would be rather useless if Cardassians couldn’t smell them.”
“Listen, I can explain—”
“No need, Doctor, no need. Cardassian pheromones are very…specific. There is nothing you could tell me that I cannot deduce myself.”
Julian wondered what Garak was picking up. Whatever it was, it was clear he didn’t like it. He was hunched over his work desk, every muscle tense, not even facing Julian’s direction.
It didn’t seem that Garak was experiencing sexual attraction, which was a relief – not that Julian didn’t want Garak to be sexually attracted to him, but he would rather it be genuine and not artificially induced so that Garak would continue to be sexually attracted to him even after Julian had taken a shower. Also, if it was sexual attraction, Garak was having an extremely negative reaction, and nobody liked to find out that the person you daydreamed about kissing would respond to your advances with a revulsion that bordered on abject horror.
“But you don’t understand—”
“Doctor.” Garak threw down whatever tool he’d been pretending to use and turned around and god, whatever look that was made Julian’s blood run cold. When Garak spoke the tremor in his voice was all the more audible. “Please don’t take this personally. It is merely that fabric has a tendency to absorb smells, and I would rather not have this particular scent lingering.”
“But—”
“Please, Doctor.” And it was a plea, Garak was almost begging and Julian was rooted to the floor, torn between running away and grabbing Garak and shaking him until he listened.
The door chimed.
“Excuse us—” croaked a wet voice. Julian whirled around. The Bufonians were clustered in the door, pulsing throat sacks now a mottled red and yellow.
“What?” Julian shouted. “What is it that you are so sure is happening right now you had to follow me in here?”
The spokesman swallowed.
“Pregnant female in distress?” he said, more question than statement.
Julian could not hide his frustration but did manage to stop shouting.
“There was a laboratory accident, and I was covered in various pheromones, I am not pregnant, I am not female, though I will admit to being in a significant amount of distress!”
A brief pause; the Bufonians glanced at each other.
“…are you sure?”
“OUT!”
They fled. Julian stalked over to the door, locked it, and flipped the sign to closed.
Behind him, Garak began to laugh. Julian turned on him, balefully.
“It’s not funny.”
“No!” Garak agreed, still laughing. “No it isn’t! It’s not funny at all!” The laugh cut off with an awful choking sound and he slumped against the workbench. “In fact,” he said numbly, staring at the cloth spread before him, “I don’t think I’ve ever been in a less amusing situation in my life.”
“What did you think it was?” Julian asked.
Garak didn’t say anything for a moment. He ran his fingers over the edges of the fabric, and finally spoke in a faraway voice.
“You smelled as if you had been marked with an emphatic declaration of permanence. What is most unamusing is that the smell indicates the source is an older Cardassian male. Three things I had always assumed would be…unappealing to you, if not individually, then certainly in combination.”
Garak looked at Julian with a smile – no humor, nothing but pain. Heartbreak, Julian realized. That had been the look in his eyes. Heartbreak.
“Imagine, if you will, Doctor, learning an impenetrable wall is a door only when you hear it lock.”
Julian was a clever man. God knew he had his moments, and the higher the emotional stakes, the more likely it was he would put his foot right in it, but right now although the stakes had never been higher, the risk was at absolute zero. Not even he could screw this one up.
“I don’t find those things unappealing,” he said. Slowly, as if Garak might cut and run, Julian began to approach.
“No?” Garak said.
“Not in combination. Or at least, not in a very specific combination. The wall is very much a door, and not only is the door not locked, it is open.”
“How open?” Garak’s voice was mild and curious, but the look in his eyes was all soft, fragile hope.
“About as open as you can get,” Julian said. “Welcome mat out front. Big sign saying ‘enter here’ over the top.”
Garak’s eyes searched his face, probably looking for some sign of exaggeration or humor, which he was absolutely not going to find.
“How very unexpected,” he murmured.
Julian leaned in. He was going to kiss Garak, and he was going to keep kissing him until it was expected, until hope became certainty and Garak forgot all about heartbreak and misunderstandings and, with luck, how this entire conversation had started.
Before he could even get close, Garak’s hand shot out and held him at bay, five fingertips pressed to Julian’s chest.
“My dear doctor,” he said, “there is one other thing you should know about this particular pheromone. I’m afraid it has a secondary purpose…as a repellent. As much as I would like to partake in the intimacy you are offering, I would be unable to enjoy it.”
“Ah,” Julian said. “I see.”
Garak pushed gently; Julian obligingly backed away.
“However,” Garak said. “Once you have taken the necessary steps to divest yourself of the results of your…unfortunate mishap, you will find me on your doorstep.”
“It might take a bit,” Julian said. “Pheromones don’t come off easily.”
“I am a patient man,” Garak reassured him, “when the need arises.”
“I won’t bother giving you my door code,” Julian said. “I know you’ve either already got it, can guess it, or know how to get around it.”
Garak smiled fondly.
“Oh, Doctor,” he said. “You know me so well.”
Julian took hold of the hand on his chest and lifted it up. He pressed the very tips of Garak’s fingers to his lips and reveled in the way Garak’s breath caught in his throat.
“I do,” he said, his voice low and husky. He released Garak’s hand and made his way for the door, his step lighter than it had been all morning. As he reached the door, Garak called
“Doctor!”
Julian turned. Garak gave him a sweet smile.
“I am a patient man,” he said again, “but a little expediency would not go unappreciated.”
Julian gave a playful little salute, stepped out the door, strode confidently down the hallway until he was out of sight, and then took off running for the infirmary.