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“Hey what do you think of that, Chester? I finally found me an honest man. Must be my lucky day.”
~*~
“What do you think?”
“Very nice,” O’Brien responded appreciatively, nodding at the Farian Call Girl sitting across from him in Bilby’s apartment. “But, uh--”
“But what?” Bilby’s eyes flashed over him in surprise.
“I don’t -- don’t want to -- y-y’know…”
“What do you mean you don’t want to? I brought her here for you.” Bilby sounded practically insulted. Chester meowed from the other side of the room. The Farian woman waited patiently with a smile on her face.
“And I appreciate that.” O’Brien responded tensely. “But--”
“But what--?” Bilby stared at him with a dawning realization on his face, tilting his head curiously, “Don’t tell me you don’t like girls …”
O’Brien balked, unable to formulate a response, merely stared at him dumbfounded. Say you have a girlfriend or -- or a boyfriend -- or something! He thought desperately, then thought better of it. Probably best not to make something up so easily fact checked and debunked. If they pried, if he overstepped and they went looking for a supposed girlfriend here on Farius and came up empty handed, it would only bring more questions, more scrutiny. He reconsidered, but came up blank.
Bilby nodded, turned and smiled at the woman, giving her a little wave. She smiled brightly and waved back. When he turned back to O’Brien his expression was concerned, “Listen, I understand,” Bilby nodded, “But that’s no reason to hurt this girl’s feelings.” He added, then gave him a gesture that O’Brien instantly understood to mean he should go smooth things over with her. O’Brien smiled curtly as he stood and approached her to pay her for her time.
“Ahm -- we’ve got some business to discuss, so why don’t you…” He began counting out the paper bills used as currency in the Farius sector to give to her -- he wasn’t particularly sure what to pay a sex worker, but opted to lean on the extremely generous side, “Go on and head home and--” He cleared his throat awkwardly, “I’ll call you in a couple days. Okay?” He escorted her to the door in a gentlemanly fashion, and added warmly, “Thanks for coming over. It was really nice to meet you.” Once she had disappeared down the hall he turned to head back into the apartment. The automatic door whirred shut behind him. Once he was back inside Bilby was already placing a drink in his hand.
“Sorry, if I’d have realized I would have looked a little harder for someone more to your tastes.” Bilby said with a small smile, though his demeanor had shifted to almost somber, “Though I can’t blame you for not saying anything. Not everyone in these parts is as enlightened as I am.”
“What are you talking about?” O’Brien responded dumbly. He wasn’t acting.
“It can get you in trouble around here if you’re not careful, but you don’t have to worry about me. I’ve figured it out, and it’s fine.”
“It is..?” O’Brien managed, trying to sound casual, but the mere utterance of the phrase ‘I’ve figured it out’ had him nearly paralyzed. He downed his drink and placed the empty glass on the counter nearby.
“Sure. I won’t tell anyone.”
“Tell anyone what..?” He asked cautiously.
“You don’t have to play dumb about it.” He laughed, “I told you -- I understand .” Bilby said meaningfully as he stepped into his space. “Is this alright?” He asked gruffly as he lifted his hand to his face. O’Brien stiffened, but his touch was gentle and his fingers curled around the back of his neck as his thumb came up to caress his cheek.
“Bilby…?” He managed questioningly.
“You can call me Liam if you want.” He murmured, as his eyes fluttered shut and he leaned in... To kiss him! O’Brien realized, not a moment too soon. He let out a surprised gasp and pulled away with a jerk, stepping back to place his hands firmly on Bilby’s shoulders to keep him at arm's length while he did his best to pull himself together.
“Sorry, Connelly --” Bilby stammered apologetically, “I misunderstood --”
“You’re married!” O’Brien blurted.
“Oh… is that all?” Bilby sighed.
“What d’you mean ‘is that all’?” He replied harshly, pulling his hands from his shoulders and taking a couple steps back. He didn’t need to act to sound scandalized; that was all him.
“It’s not what you think.” He explained, “I love her, I do. She’s family -- but we’re not--” He hesitated, “The marriage, it’s for her, for our children. So they’ll be taken care of by the syndicate if anything happens to me. So it’s fine… if you want to…”
“Er…” O’Brien’s heart was pounding in his chest, and his face was flushed. He didn’t want to hurt the man’s feelings, but he had to think of something to say, and quickly! “Look, Liam,” His name felt heavy on his tongue, “I’m flattered, and it’s not as though I don’t -- don’t care for you -- but -- ah…” He took a deep breath, tried to stall, to recall his training before the mission, “There’s somebody else.” He decided suddenly, though it felt less like thinking on his feet, as his training had indicated he ought to do, and a bit more like lounging recumbent into a half formed thought.
“Really?”
“Er, well -- not exactly--” He hesitated, reminding himself not to say anything that could be traced easily or debunked -- don’t say anything that contradicts the backstory given to him in the carefully crafted file. “It’s that I’m in love with someone -- Someone else. From before this life.” He added, in what he hoped would come across as a nice poetic flourish to distract from his stammering, but it felt a bit too much like a line from one of Julian’s holosuite games, and he subsequently decided he should probably avoid adding poetry or flourishes to all future improvisational embellishments.
“So,” Bilby laughed, turning to refill both their glasses before handing O’Brien’s glass back to him, who took it dutifully, “You’re in love with someone. No reason you can’t have fun in the meantime?”
“Well, it’s more than that --” He downed the drink. Bilby poured him another. He reminded himself to stay alert, not let his guard down, as tempting as that pour might be, “It might sound silly to you, but I suppose I’d feel I was being unfaithful.” He managed a laugh that came out more forced and distressed than he had intended.
“Not silly.” Bilby responded, “It’s not like I wouldn’t understand having someone waiting for you back home!”
O’Brien shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his eyes. His brain whirred trying to come up with some way to talk his way out of this awkward situation. Though talking his way out of things was not exactly his strong suit, now that he really thought about it; but the facts of the situation were that he had sent away the call girl, and had rebuffed Bilby, and he needed to make up something believable enough that did not warrant being fact-checked and could not subsequently be used against him either. “Er…” Was all he managed, kicking himself internally. Somehow Starfleet Intelligence had enlisted the universe’s worst liar to go undercover in a life or death situation… The alcohol in his hand was looking awfully tempting, but he resolved to resist -- at least until it became awkward.
“So who is he?”
“A -- a doctor,” He answered after a moment, and tried to force his expression into a neutral one, to hide the surprise he felt at his own knee jerk impulse to talk about Julian; he told himself that he only had him on his mind because he’d been reminded of improvising in his spy simulator just earlier. (And he missed him of course, but that was beside the point.)
“Oh! A Doctor, huh? Classy!” Bilby grinned.
“Uhm,” He realized then that he should probably not be so obvious in his lies, there were databases and records for Julian’s profession, after all, public ones! He glanced around the room desperately for a moment, though he did his level best to school his features into an expressionless mask as he begged the room for some kind of clue or hint at what he ought to say next. Chester meowed from the counter top. “A Veterinary doctor.” He added, wincing internally, “He used to look after animals back in the Dayos system.”
“Your ‘veterinary doctor’ have a name?”
“Julius.” He answered hastily. Not his best adlib, to be sure.
“‘Et tu, Brute?’” He laughed.
“What?”
“Like that play, Julius Caesar .”
Like stabbing a friend in the back. O’Brien’s brain supplied unhelpfully. “Er… I’ve never seen it.” He said aloud, even though he had read it a long time ago, as a child, he felt that perhaps Connolly had not.
“Neither have I.” Bilby laughed. “But I know about it.”
“Right. I guess I never thought about that.” He tried to match the ease of Bilby’s laughter.
“So. When are you going to see him again?” He asked downing his own drink and pouring himself another.
“I don’t know…” He answered seriously. And it was the God’s Honest Truth of the situation, “I located him after I got out of prison, but I thought -- well, he probably wouldn’t want to see me right now… Lost track of him after that.” He continued with a completely off the cuff lie.
“Hey, maybe I can use some of my resources to help you find him! Seems like a real tragedy keeping you two apart.” He said brightly, as he finally extracted himself from O’Brien’s space. He picked up his drink from the counter and sauntered over to sit on the sofa.
“Oh -- well, I’d hate to get him involved in anything dangerous, even by association, you understand.” O’Brien hedged.
“Nonsense. You’re being too sensitive. I’m sure he’s dying to see you! If my boyfriend got out of prison, I’d want to see him first thing when he got out, no matter how bad things got.”
“Actually, er… we were never together.” He explained, shifting a bit. He was not sure why he said that exactly, he could have let him believe that this imaginary Julian Bashir was out there waiting for him, or that they had separated and he was merely holding out hope, but for some misguided reason he decided to supply what little truth he could. It would prevent him from saying anything he might unthinkingly contradict later, at the very least.
“Wait, what--?” Bilby laughed, though it was not particularly amused. More skeptical now and it made O’Brien’s stomach turn over a few times.
“I never got to tell him how I feel -- before I got arrested.” O’Brien stammered, blushing faintly. This was getting a bit out of hand and he desperately wanted to change the subject, but Bilby seemed to be scrutinizing him now. “I’m sorry… it must seem stupid to you -- a grown man holding out for somebody like a teenager.” He forced a chuckle.
“You’re right about that. Does seem stupid.” He sighed. “And you don’t even know if he feels the same way?” Bilby shook his head with a small laugh, but was giving him a fond look now, though it did little to ease him, “And here I thought I was a romantic…”
O’Brien said nothing, but offered him a stiff close lipped smile.
“Sit down.” He said suddenly, gesturing for him to sit beside him on the sofa. “You’re making me uncomfortable, looking at you standing around like that.”
“Oh… Sorry. I didn’t realize.” He managed an easy smile, but shifted nervously anyway.
“No, no… you’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have tried to make a move on you earlier. That’s on me.” He acknowledged with a self-conscious sigh, downing his drink. “How about we forget it ever happened and you sit down, alright?”
“S’alright.” O’Brien responded gruffly, unsure exactly what to say to that blatant acknowledgement, “Wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened.” He added, and it wasn’t exactly untrue.
“Well, grab that bottle and come sit with me.” He gestured to the bar where the cat and the alcohol were sitting. “Tell me about this vet of yours.”
“Oh, well… He’s not really my anything--” He reminded, with a heat to his tone that he hadn’t intended, but that often enough accompanied casual assertions that he harbored any kind of feeling for Julian beyond a professional friendship between co-workers.
“Right, right. Well, tell me about your unrequited love, then.”
“There’s not much to tell…” His stomach fluttered uncomfortably at his phrasing. Perhaps this was not the best time to seriously process that he was using his best friend as a baseline for some fabricated unrequited love interest... He grabbed the bottle and his own glass and joined Bilby on the sofa with a forceful flop.
“What do you mean ‘not much to tell?’ You’re in love with him, aren’t you?” He pressed good-naturedly.
“Well, I --” O’Brien’s tried to think of something to say that would not sound made up, but his brain felt like it was stalling out, and instead he sat there with his mouth open as though waiting for it to form words without his brain’s involvement.
“He the family type?” Bilby continued, taking the bottle and refilling his glass.
“I’m -- not sure exactly.” He answered honestly, “Y’know, when I first started getting to know him he said that wasn’t the sort of thing for him. Had a whole break up with a -- girlfriend? Maybe a fiance? I’m not sure…” He laughed with a dawning realization, “You know, he never really mentioned her after that… I don’t even know if they were engaged. He only said he’d have married her if he hadn’t --”
“Hadn’t what?”
“That’s the funny thing. I don’t know.” He deflected, internally kicking himself for very nearly mentioning Starfleet of all bloody things. He impulsively swallowed the pour he’d been holding, “He never really said much about her. Only that he couldn’t see getting married because of -- of that experience, I s’pose…” Bilby refilled his glass. He very nearly downed that as well, but stopped himself for the time being.
“I thought, ‘Hey, I like this guy’ when you said he liked animals, but now I’m not so sure…” Bilby responded, though his tone was not unkind.
“No -- it’s not like that.” O’Brien responded defensively, “He’s -- he’s -- ahm --” He stammered, trying to gather his thoughts, and then, realizing that there was no way this would ever get back to Julian Bashir, continued, “He's -- really incredible, actually. I’ve never met anybody like him in my life. He’s kind and loving -- he has a -- ah,” He hesitated a moment, shifting a bit, and reminding himself that he was cloaked in plausible deniability, “He has a really big heart , y’know? A-and I -- I dunno if he wants a family, but he’s young yet, and I think he’d make an excellent parent if he wanted to. An amazing spouse too -- and sometimes I would think, ‘Connelly, just forget about him -- he’s too good for you.’” He laughed, and Bilby did too, listening intently as O’Brien continued, “He has a great sense of humor -- and I didn’t think so when I met him, but he really does.” This was getting away from him somehow, but he continued, unable to really stop himself now that he’d gotten going, “And I don’t mean just that he’s funny, though I suppose you could say that. It’s that we laugh together. He’s just really fun to be around, and…” He cleared his throat self-consciously, “And he’s… he’s caring -- though he’d have to be with his -- his profession. Genuine. Warm…” He trailed off. His face felt hot, and he knew he was visibly blushing (from the alcohol, he told himself). Though that did little to explain the slight ache in his chest and butterflies forming in his stomach, though not uncommon when it came to being honest about Julian, it seldom hit him this hard and abruptly.
“Warm?” Bilby laughed, smiling at him knowingly.
“Er -- well, yeah.” He shifted self-consciously, the butterflies in his stomach seemed to desperately want to escape out of his mouth now, and he swallowed them down with the drink in his hand. “He’s got an incredible smile… lights up the whole room.” Bilby poured him another drink, he had begun to lose count of how many they’d had, “Almost hard to look right at him sometimes.” When O’Brien had been in the Argrathi prison for 20 fabricated years, he seldom spoke about Julian to his cellmate (he’d always been more interested in Keiko, anyway) but in some ways having something, someone, that was just his -- not to be shared or rationed -- had brought him comfort then. But now he found he couldn’t stop gushing. Maybe there was a reason he’d kept these thoughts close to his chest during that time. Some things were simply not healthy to explore when everything else was so miserable... He drank the alcohol in his hand anxiously. Maybe he shouldn’t be exploring them now , either. Or ever , if he could help it!
“Wow,” Bilby sighed, refilling his glass (faster than Quark serving drinks at an open bar on the Federation’s tab). “I didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell.”
“What are you--”
“No, don’t try and argue -- you’re clearly smitten with this guy.”
“I wouldn’t put it that way…” O’Brien’s face flushed self-consciously and he reminded himself again that this could not possibly get back to Julian, and perhaps more to the point, Bilby did not have any idea who he was actually talking about -- though this knowledge did little to still the butterflies in his stomach that had now stopped trying to escape and were simply getting drunk -- he helped them along with the fresh pour.
“Seems almost… dishonorable to come between that, somehow…” He continued, then turned to him as a thought occurred to him, “Hey, why don’t you stay the night? We can finish this bottle, you can sleep on the sofa… It seems a shame to send you off with the weather like this.”
“I don’t know -- I should probably get back…” Bilby was already pouring him another drink, which he gulped down anxiously. Bilby was drinking too, he realized he’d stopped keeping track of their alcohol intake.
“We were having a real heart-to-heart.” He pressed. “And we have this whole bottle to finish, I mean. I can’t drink it alone.”
O’Brien sighed, looking out the window as the lightning flashed. It had been about to rain for weeks as far as he could tell, and if he was being honest he was worried tonight might be the night it finally did. He’d never seen weather like this anywhere else, all thunder and lightning and no rain. He almost wondered if the Starfleet mole had turned the rain off here too. “Well, I suppose one more drink couldn’t hurt.” He conceded, though some rational voice in the back of his mind reminded him that it really could , particularly considering the state he was in already, “But if it’s not gonna rain, I should head home after that.”
“Well, you’re welcome to stay.” He said, pouring O’Brien that drink he’d just agreed to. “It’s a shame about your -- not your veterinarian…”
“Hm, it’s alright.” O’Brien shrugged, “Though I sometimes wonder if things could have been different for us if I hadn’t met--” If you hadn’t met who, Miles? He faltered, stopping himself from finishing the thought, both to Bilby and especially to himself, “-- If I hadn’t met you and gotten involved here…” He forced a laugh, and fortunately Bilby was a few too many drinks into the evening to notice how strained and humorless it was. The alcohol was certainly affecting his companion, and if O’Brien was being perfectly honest with himself, he was not lucid, either.
“I’d like to meet him someday. A man your age, you should settle down and have a family. It’s the most important thing.” He sighed, filling his own glass. “If I could talk to him for 3 minutes, I’d tell you if he was the marrying kind…” Bilby continued, unphased. “I can read people right away, what’s in their hearts… You for instance. I saw through you the first time I laid eyes on you.”
“Oh... yeah?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so alone in my entire life…” O’Brien chuckled faintly, the man was right, though not in the way that he thought he was -- this mission was incredibly lonely. “And, boy, was I right.” He continued matter of factly, “Look at you -- holding out for someone who doesn’t even know how you feel, might have already forgotten you...”
“We’re still friends .” He said, feeling inexplicably hurt by the comment, “And I do hope you can meet him someday.” O’Brien smiled faintly, looking into his little cup of alcohol, and wondered much too seriously for a moment if Julian would like Bilby as much as he did... “You might not like him at first.” He chuckled dryly, “I didn’t. At first I thought he was annoying, self-absorbed, pompous, arrogant--”
“Starting to see why nothing ever actually happened…” Bilby snorted.
“-- But he really got under my skin. Would hardly take no for an answer, actually.”
“Then you fell in love with him. I get it.”
“I’m not -- I didn’t --” He began to protest, just as he might if he were back on Deep Space 9 and a well-meaning friend (or even Julian himself) had implied he harbored such strong feelings, but he caught himself and downed his drink instead. Bilby poured him another one almost instantly. He drank it nearly as quickly. “What I mean is --” He course corrected, “I didn’t f-feel that way right away -- it wasn’t like that. We started spending more time together -- and I warmed up to him, we got to be friends … I -- I don’t know when it happened. And I didn’t want to admit it to myself… I still don’t --” He said earnestly, before correcting himself, “I mean, in a way it would be easier… if I hadn’t...” He trailed off in a cowardly attempt to prevent himself from saying it, however, the combination of shame and alcohol that currently made up the vast majority of his bloodstream forced his hand . “What I mean is, it would be easier if I hadn’t fallen in love with him… I didn’t mean to. But I did.” He said firmly, so there would be no doubt about his meaning, then punctuated it with a laugh, a mixture of relief and disbelief. “Honestly, I’ve never admitted this -- any of this -- to anyone before…”
“I’m honored to be trusted with your secret.” There was humor in Bilby’s tone, but still he seemed genuinely touched by it. It made O’Brien’s stomach lurch.
“It’s so stupid, isn’t it? When you think about it? I’m in love with him! Jesus.” It felt incredibly freeing to say this out loud, though the weightlessness of the confession was followed almost immediately by guilt so heavy and crushing he knew he could not begin to process it without breaking down on the spot. He laughed again, and this time it nearly bordered on hysterical. He felt dizzy.
“Hey, don’t beat yourself up.” Bilby said sagely. “It happens to the best of us.”
O’Brien let out another miserable laugh as he tried to pull himself together, remind himself forcefully of the context: he was talking about a made-up veterinarian from the Dayous system named Julius. Not his real life best friend...
Connelly might have been talking a fiction, but Miles Edward O’Brien had been talking about Julian Bashir from the beginning and he knew that much with a certainty that he couldn’t just shake off. His guilt made him want to curl up on himself until there was nothing left.
“Boy, you look miserable.” He sighed ruefully.
“What?” O’Brien stared ahead blankly, he made to sip the alcohol from the small glass. When had it been refilled? He hadn’t noticed… it didn’t matter. Right at this moment getting drunk no longer seemed like a bad idea that could get him killed if he wasn’t careful, but rather an absolute imperative.
“I’m sorry I got you talking about this...”
“Just caught me by surprise -- the alcohol.” He clarified, taking a deep, slow breath, to ground himself. “I’m alright.”
“No, you’re not.” Bilby shrugged. “You’re so lonely it looks like it might kill you.”
O’Brien didn’t have the heart to argue with that, and it wasn’t even as though he was technically wrong. He missed his family terribly, and at this moment, Julian even more so -- not that he wanted to consider what seeing him again would be like after his unfortunate revelation.
“Doesn’t seem fair, either… Letting yourself be so lonely.” He said leaning in, slurring his words slightly from the alcohol. “When you don’t have to be…”
“Liam…” O’Brien put a hand on his shoulder, as he had when he had tried to kiss him before, to keep him at arm’s length -- though the gesture was softer now in his inebriated state, and neither his touch nor his tone carried any of the forceful determination it previously had.
“If you could pretend…” He said imploringly.
“I’m not very good at pretending--” He protested, but when Bilby leaned in to kiss him this time he did not pull away or hold him at arm's length, and he allowed their lips to meet gently. Bilby’s lips were dry, a bit chapped, but his mouth was soft against his, and he found his eyes fluttering shut in an automatic response. He did not kiss back, but Bilby did not seem to notice or mind, and even ventured to part his lips a bit, sucking hesitantly at his lower lip; it wasn’t until his hand came around to curl experimentally into his hair, however, that O’Brien snapped back into reality and pulled away with a jerk.
“I suppose you’d just be thinking of him the whole time?” He said wearily.
“Y-yeah.” O’Brien agreed, glad that Bilby had come up with an excuse so he wouldn’t have to. “It wouldn’t be right.” And honestly, it wouldn’t be. None of this was.
“I don’t mind.”
“Like I said, I’m bad at pretending…”
“I know … and I said I don’t mind.” Bilby pressed.
“I’d better get going.” He deflected, finishing his drink quickly and getting to his feet. He gestured to the window, the lightning flashed as if on cue. “Still no rain, so…” A crash of thunder followed. He wobbled on his feet.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” Bilby asked in concern.
“Right as rain.”
“Sure. Of course.” Bilby sighed, leaning back on the sofa, but did not get up to show him out, only gestured at the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, alright? Maybe we can -- I dunno -- go to the races or something.” He shrugged. O’Brien took this gesture to mean that they would be putting this night behind them, pretending it never happened. At least that was what he hoped it meant...
“Yeah. I’d like that.” He smiled genuinely. “G’night, Liam.”
“Night, Connelly.” He smiled faintly.
O’Brien turned and headed out into the hallway and took the stairs down to the street, stumbling blindly along the city blocks towards the general area of his apartment, though in his current state he was having trouble remembering exactly how to get there…
This evening, he decided dismally, as he stumbled through the dark, silent streets, would not go in his report to Chadwick... there were some things that deserved to stay private, he reasoned...
As he slogged through the streets the still blackness was broken only occasionally by the crash of thunder or the flash of lightning, which felt like it was getting ominously closer.
This did little to sooth his already shattered nerves.
He turned a corner onto a street that he was certain he recognized, but he still felt lost. He stumbled and nearly fell face first onto the pavement, but managed to continue walking. His face was wet, he realized, and for a moment he wondered if he had started crying. It would not have surprised him if he was, but when he felt the water penetrating his clothes and drenching his hair he realized that it had started to rain. It was his last conscious thought that night.
***
O’Brien woke up on the sofa in his apartment. He did not remember getting home last night, and was frankly relieved to find that he was safe; not in a gutter somewhere, or worse, arrested for real.
Someone was knocking on his door and the sound felt like it was inside of his brain. He realized that was what had woken him, and he dragged himself to his feet and opened the door still wearing yesterday's clothes, without even thinking to ask who it was. He had a 5 alarm hangover, the likes of which he had not experienced since his younger years on the Rutledge, and it was clouding his thinking terribly.
Bilby brushed past him and into his apartment, talking about tickets to the races that afternoon, and a hangover cure he’d make for him before they got there. He talked about the weather (it had stopped raining as suddenly as it had started), and he talked about the syndicate, and Flith and Krole.
He did not talk about last night, or the Call Girl, or Julian. He did not talk about trying to kiss him.
O’Brien was relieved.
As the day wore on it became clear that they would pretend that the previous night had never happened. Just as he had hoped.
Maybe by the time he got back to Deep Space 9 he would be able to convince himself that it actually hadn’t. And he and Julian would play darts and racquetball, and go to the holosuites. They would meet each other for drinks, and Julian would come over for dinner sometimes, just like they always had done. They would laugh together, and he would see him smile, and he would pretend that he had never realized the feelings that stirred in him. For the sake of their friendship, for his marriage, he would pretend that he was not in love with Julian Bashir.
He was not very good at pretending.
End.