Note: Well, it's still Sunday night somewhere. In any case, I had a lot of fun with this chapter. I thought it would be interesting to take a little more advantage of the Alternate Reality aspect biology wise. So I messed about a bit with Julian's specifics as a genetically enhanced human and with Cardassian biology. It was a fun "what if" thinking the "spoon" on the Cardassian forehead might be akin to a snake's heat sensing "pit(s)". Heck it doesn't say anywhere that it doesn't do that. anyway, more suspense, less romance, but it will be coming. THank you all for reading and C&C always welcome!


"We're deeper down than the basement." Julian speaks the words so matter of factly that Garak is almost tempted to believe this to be nothing more than a dream. It is also entirely possible that the fall has killed them both; he has not yet ruled that out in its entirety. Though the likelihood that the afterlife would somehow involve a tangle of limbs with one Doctor Julian Bashir at the bottom of a precarious staircase seems improbable at best. Perhaps it is that ancient mythical human notion of ghosts bound to haunt their final resting place and any unwary passers by as well. Was it Poe who spoke of shrouded forms that start and sigh? No, no shroud, though these clothes are likely ruined. His shirt had been torn quite violently as the two of them tussled on the wild ride down.

As soon as the steps felt their weight they'd flattened just as Garak imagined they would. But it had gone beyond that wild sixty degree tilt. Julian's arms and legs had gone out and tried to lock but the angle, the extra weight of Garak crashing into him had allowed for nothing but an increasingly speedy descent. No, it was more than that. Julian had yelled frantically that he couldn't grip the walls, couldn't grip anything, and that slick substance comes to the forefront of his mind once more as he considers their fall to be far faster than normal physics should have accounted for. He has not yet figured out why Julian had chosen that moment to tear at his shirt and as his eyes adjust as well as they can to the darkness. It might as well be pitch black and though he has far better night vision than most, without any heat differential to fall back on, he finds himself lost.

Garak thinks about this even as he makes no move. He is not aware of how motion could be detected without the aid of precious electronic systems, cameras, surveillance, but he has yet to scratch the surface of what may be possible with the use of that volatile aether as power. He also is aware that this is only the beginning. They might not have been met with a deadly barrage of sharp objects but there will be far worse to come. What is left is the matter of discerning the remainder. If he had any illusion of going back, he realizes now that their only option is to continue to the end and perhaps pray there's a reset or another way out of this subterranean death trap. Garak considers Julian's words, finding that even as slim as he is, that body is still rather nice and dare he say comfortable beneath his own.

"Yes, I believe you're correct, my dear, though I cannot be certain as to just how far down we are. I fear that the only thing I was aware on on our somewhat unceremonious trip down were those nimble fingers of yours making a tatters of my shirt." Neither of them offer any apology and beneath him he feels Julian shift, noticing that his arms are stretched far above his head. Only now do they carefully retract back down. Garak recalls that he felt a strange stop, a tense of Julian's entire frame and curiously he reaches up slowly, cautiously past those outstretched arms. He realizes, of course, that Julian's reach is far superior to his, and he sighs, deciding that mystery should be revealed shortly. He stops that attempt to check and decides that as invigorating as that was, as equally... refreshing as Julian's body is beneath his own, it's hardly conducive to any sort of coherent thought.

"Mercury slick," Julian answers as if that should provide a satisfactory response to Garak's lament of his ruined clothing.

"I see," Garak answers, blinking, still seeing nothing. And though the highly developed frontal pit allows him to easily sense Julian's heat signature, sense that extension of his arms, he can sense nothing else warm around them but the cool of the underground. That is until he turns his head to the right and senses a faint, terribly faint trace of heat coming from far away through Guls only know what sadistic obstacle course. He frowns deeply, trying to think of way to figure this out without the benefit of a light when Julian takes that silence as his cue to continue a warm ramble to fill that stillness. Guls it's cold in here.

"Mercury slick is an alloy that was developed on Westworld some hundred years back as an industrial lubricant mostly. Though nowadays you'd be hard pressed to find anything mechanical here that doesn't use it. But it doesn't dry out, see as long as it's kept as temperature and it's about the most slippery substance you'll find."

"Fascinating," Garak murmurs absently, curiosity getting the better of him at last as he slowly crawls up Julian's body to see just what it was that he'd been reaching for.

"Quite," Julian agrees and Garak thinks he might sound just a touch breathless with that rather indelicate wriggle. "Especially when you consider that mercury vapor is highly poisonous to humans. I don't know if studies have been done on Vulcans though I suspect it still is. I never had much chance to parse the studies from Cardassia on heavy metal poisonings, poisonings never having been much of an area of interest of mine, but you needn't worry. The alloy was developed using the deposits of Sedinium found running throughout these mountains. Sedinium being the metal of choice for most of the construction on world here since they discovered that it...ah... did you know that snakes mate in this same manner?" That rising timbre of Julian's voice nearly gives him pause, though not half as much as the hand which flies down suddenly to rest on his hip- on a rather sensitive point in fact- that makes him hiss.

"Yes... like that, I'd imagine but I don't fancy a shag right here you understand though I-" Garak tunes out Julian's somewhat breathless babbling and remains silent if only to keep from responding in kind as that hand tightens, likely to hold him still, he thinks. But his attention is drawn away from that in an instant when his fingertips touch the sharpened point in front. He's thankful that the tailor's work these past few weeks has built up an impressive callous on that finger lest it break skin. He pulls back, realizing that Julian's breath is right now warm on his neck, that head having turned into him rather than away as he squirms back down, careful not to bump their faces together.

"Sharp little things, aren't they?" Julian observes almost glibly. There's a pause, concern quick to the forefront. "You're not bleeding are you? I couldn't quite make out the depth but I expect the intent might not have been to kill so much as to maim... maybe poison. I don't know."

"Well, you certainly have my eternal gratitude for not using me to break your fall, Julian. I admit, I hadn't counted on the addition of this mercury slick into the equation. Well you seemed to have handled it admirably, I must say."

"I'm an augment, Garak, not a bloody android!" Julian declares hotly. "I could've been killed you know! Do you have any idea how dangerous, how reckless, how thoughtless that was?!"

"I suppose it lacked the forethought of a vial of scorpion venom, but one must work with the tools one is given," Garak answers mildly, noting that Julian's hand is still on that spot on his hip.

He fells Julian's head turn, and hears that indignant huff.

"You tried to kill me first, you know."

"And yet here you are, willingly held in my vile clutches." Garak lets his fingers trail down the inside of Julian's forearm feeling a nice little shiver. "But as long as the list of egregious offenses I would relish delivering onto your person is, there's a far more pressing issue."

"You've broken my glasses," Julian protests sounding far more put out over a vanity pair of spectacles than he'd expect.

"You have my word, my dear, that upon the end of our ascent out of the mouth of Hades I shall buy you a new pair." He feels a heavy sigh beneath him, and to his surprise, he feels that hand move and feels Julian roll them both, a shuffling likely to his knees. It makes him wonder just how much Julian can actually see down here.

"You know, you've surprised me so many times with your insight, I half expected you to know but that's on me, I suppose." Garak sits up as he senses Julian rise to his feet. "True, I don't need them to see but I do need them, Garak. Starfleet had them made. Ah... that is Miles made them using Starfleet equipment. I don't know if they could even be made here and I'd be afraid to try and replicate them even. They hide my eyes. That is, the lenses scatter the light so that you can't see the eye shine even if you look past the lenses That's what they call it anyway. I'm sure there's animals on your world that have it... the night vision. The tapetum lucidum. Well choroidal tapetum cellulosum if we're splitting hairs but the point is it's a damn dead giveaway when the light hits them right and those glasses were the only thing hiding them!"

"You shouldn't be so quick to jump to conclusions, my dear," Garak answers as he too rises to his feet. "So far the evidence has only presented that they're missing." He takes a corrective step, feeling the crunch at the same time that he hears it. "Now you can be sure that they're broken," He offers to the darkness, unable to help that baiting.

"Thank you, Mr. Holmes," Julian shoots back sarcastically. "You're right. You're not trying to kill me, you're just trying to drive me completely mad until I kill myself." Garak senses more motion from Julian towards the wall on the other side of the stairwell. "I'm sure there's a light if we can find it," he says echoing Garak's thoughts. Yes, and no doubt some other trap as well. He cannot help but be impressed with Julian's calm. Augment or no, hunted or no, there's some other driving influence behind those steady nerves. They're steadier than his in any case as he begins to feel the walls closing in. He's not sure his inability to see is making the situation better or worse. He certainly hadn't imagined, in any case that when he began this morning with a quick read of the paper and a large pudding and biscuit that he'd be trapped in a coffin beneath the earth. Yes, the earth which could easily crumble and fall in at any moment. The unreliable dirt, this space where the air is stale and stuffy, and you've a useless staircase to your front and a Gul's damned probably poisoned peril to your rear. By the State, Elim, you knew your curiosity was going to be the death of you someday but not by a slow suffocating, crushing, stifling-

"Garak?" He thinks he hears Julian's voice though he isn't sure as he tries to think of anything else to take his mind off the tightness in his chest as his heart starts to race unwittingly.

"I didn't... didn't hear you, Julian. Can you... can you... say that again," he says mortified at just how unsteady that was. You're not going to die. Calm. Focus. He may not be an android, but he certainly had enough present, enough quickness, agility to use your shirt to catch past the points so he can see and... and you certainly are not standing here waiting for a doctor, for a human civilian to save you? No. No, of course not, just pull yourself together and listen to what he is saying so you can get out and never ever go into another locked room as long as you live, as long as you can still breathe, breathe, breathe!

"Garak, breathe!" Julian is shouting at him, hands on his shoulders and his own hands clamp over them tightly with a fast defensive hiss.

"I'm fine," Garak insists prying those hands off, that instinctive terror warring with anger, with rage against his own helplessness as he almost forgets himself and takes another step back. "You were saying? I'm fine. You were saying."

"The light," Julian blurts out, the breeze that Garak feels indicative of some gesture. "There's a gaslight there if you've a-"

"Don't," he all but growls, that sense of true danger for that moment overriding the irrational. "Certainly, doctor, you of all people should know living on world of the mining gases, of the firedamp, of all those things that a match would set off now think. There has to be another light. Aether... right? A chain? Can you see a chain? Anything in this... this space?" He nearly swallows his own tongue. It feels thick and heavy in his mouth as as wary as he is of taking too many steps, he knows that it could not possibly be so simple. Yes, the puzzle. The game, the traps. Focus on them. Focus on them alone, Elim. You remember how to focus. You remember how to keep the mission in sight, by the Guls, you know how to not die.

Yes, he does. He might not remember how to not panic but he knows how to turn that adrenaline, that hyper mode of thought productively and he has a tool in front of him. Yes. That's what you are, Julian. You're a tool here. I don't need your comfort. I don't need your words, I need your abilities, your body, that's what I need. I need to use you. He thinks that clearly, brilliantly, calling that training back to mind as he considers surely that even the chain for the aether light would have to-

"Yes, I see it. Er, them. I see them," Julian corrects and Garak focuses on the heat signature in the dark and lets that sense of heat banish the cold back.

"How many are there?" he asks, voice steady, clean, calm. He can hear the uncertain pause from Julian but he has his answer.

"Three." Yes, three. Three like Under the Red Moon. Which means that one opens the ceiling and one opens the floor.

Garak doesn't need Julian to look to confirm it. He knows. He knows that just as he knows that he will not die here.

"One will turn the light. One will release the ceiling to crush us and the third will release the floor to open, though given the construction and the limitations on world I'm certain at least it wouldn't be a pit of chittering rats..."

"Did you say a pit of rats?"

"Chittering rats," Garak corrects enjoying at moment of much needed schadenfreude at Julian's obvious distress. "Though I don't imagine that they're too dissimilar from your transplanted Earth rodents. I must amend that; I believe that the only fatal form of rot sickness is transmitted through their saliva. I'm also certain they're a good bit larger than what you humans would call rats. I'm sure you'd hear them regardless, the noise they make is-"

"Garak," Julian interrupts with an unsteady voice. "One more word about rats and so help me I will pull this chain on the left whether it kills us or not." Although Garak thinks that being bitten to death by vermin would be infinitely preferable to a slow wasting crushing death in this tomb of dirt and stone, he magnanimously complies focusing once more on the puzzle at hand

"Is there a signature to the aether? Anything that you could sense through the cable? It's metal, isn't it? The same as in Rom's?"

"It's the same alright, but aether isn't anything like an electric current. The three of these feel the same to me. I don't suppose you have a guess?" Julian's voice is entirely too hopeful but Garak does in fact, have a rather good guess. In the novel of course it actually is the left cord that opens the door to the hidden room behind the master suite but would they follow the same course?

That's the question, of course, and while so far none of the setup has deviated much from Parmalat's classics, there's always that one variation, that one break in routine where one leasts expects it. And you could stand here all day cold and unsettled and be no closer to an answer now could you? And the walls will keep closing in even if you can't see them. At least with the light, at least with that Gul's damned light you'll know. You'll be able to see and stop leaving this to your imagination. Garak frowns deeply, feeling that cold once more on his bare skin as he looks in Julian's direction.

"Well, Julian, are you a gambling man?" He asks far more conversationally than he's really feeling. He senses a shift in that heat signature; an awkward back and forth shuffle if he had to imagine it.

"I can only guess at the stakes should I lose, but I suppose if you're right, my life is as good a prize as any."

"Now don't sell yourself short, my dear. As Quark would say, double or nothing. If I'm right you have my word I'll get you a new pair of those fetching spectacles. I have an old acquaintance on Cardassia Prime- a fellow craftsman if you will- who can certainly handle the matter with the utmost discretion."

"I'm holding you to that, Garak."

"Really, it sounds as if you don't trust me at all," Garak says with mock astonishment before smirking in the blackness. "Truly, you're a man after my own heart."

"Lucky me," Julian murmurs more to himself. Another moment passes by while Garak wills himself not to pass out.

"Ah, but I've kept you waiting long enough. I would be lying if I said I didn't have a soft spot for the dramatic tension of the moment."

"And we both know you never lie."

"Never," Garak agrees as he swallows down a faint wave of dizziness. "Now if you'll be so kind as to pull the left chain after all, I believe I'll owe you a new pair of glasses."

And Garak has to admit that he's quite proud of himself for not passing into blissful unconsciousness when Julian does just that.