Note: I'll skip the rambling and keep this one pretty short since the warning is important. WARNING! This chapter prominently features torture! If that's going to be upsetting or you really just don't want to read it then wait til next week and I'll provide a brief summary for anything that may be missed! Thank you all for reading and C&C is always welcome!


Julian Subatoi Bashir, you are a complete imbecile. That's Julian's first thought as he blinks his eyes open feeling groggy and rather like Molly just landed the Godokoro right on his head. He also feels faintly nauseous, he assumes from the sedative Garak had given him. Well, Julian, bravo, it seems that he took your advice about the proper dosing accounting for your accelerated metabolism jolly good one there. What he also notices more prominently is the bad taste in the back of his mouth and the fact that he can't seem to see quite clearly. He tries to crack his jaw, neck feeling a definite crick in it and notices how difficult it is to get any of his muscles to respond. Dantrolene? No, that would have to be given orally. It would have to be Azumolene?! Where would he have gotten that? Is that something he's gotten here on world? That's not something I keep with me, it would've had to have come from the north if not off world. How would he even know the dosage? God he could've killed you? I'm not even sure how fast my liver can metabolize it depending on the dosage. It could be hours before I can move in any decent manner.

Already beginning to feel more uneasy than before, Julian can at least see the faint twin light of the lanterns still burning giving him some indication of the time. He's thankful that they only appear to be halfway diminished. He hasn't been out nearly as long as he feared. But that also means far less time for his body to have metabolized the drugs. And what he doesn't immediately see is Garak, which is also a terribly worrying thought. You should've known there was something wrong about him. He was behaving strangely, he kept looking at you like he wanted to murder you right about the time you hit that divergence in the tunnels. God dammit, you should've made absolutely certain that you got an answer out of Nog. I'll wager anything it's some sort of hallucinatory effect. You've read in the reports that the telekinetic effects immensely tax the brain, can cause hemorrhaging in fact if one isn't careful. It affects the brain, the perceptions most likely, you should've known the possibility of breathing it in, inhaling it could have the potential to-

Oh to what, Julian? To make a perfectly sane man go completely murderously mad? Sure, why not, it would hardly begin to touch the strange things you've encountered so far, why not? You ought to be thankful at this point that he hasn't skinned you alive and worn you as a coat. Julian snorts, as macabre as that image is, there's a faintly amusing thought of Garak trying to pull Julian's slim, scrawny skin over his stocky frame. A bag then. Yes, it'll have to be a bag. He snorts again, thinking that he's starting to sound like a horse, taking stock of exactly where he is. Julian can see that he's still in the ballroom; those lanterns where they'd been left. But his bag has been moved he is already frantically recalling everything that was in it. The fuse charge- the wire that was meant to spread a long flame as it burned was where it had begun however Julian had several dozen meters as a precaution and there's no telling what Garak could have possibly been doing. But the wire doesn't explode. Really, it's purposed very specifically. You've got your first aid supplies, but Garak seems to have covered his bases with the sedative and whatever paralytic he's also injected me with and…

And I've got no bloody clothes on. Julian has to blink a few times before that fully sets in. He sees his clothes neatly folded in fact just out of his reach boots and socks stacked on top along with his necklace and watch. He swallows hard, feeling the cold, feeling the heaviness in his head that makes even turning his neck a struggle. He yawns, knowing that it will still be some time before he'll have his full capabilities, but even so… Even so, he seems to have this rather neatly sewn up, so to speak. Julian can feel the ropes tying his wrists together, keeping his arms neatly out of commission while exposing his chest and his stomach. He expects to see his legs similarly bound- there was enough of that rope remaining that he could've easily been cocooned like a caterpillar should Garak have so desired. But that's not what he wanted, obviously, he's after God only knows what and you better figure out just what exactly that is.

Because his legs are not bound in the most logical way to restrict movement, at least not in the way Julian would imagine. As he looks down, he can see the bar elaborately tied at his knees- it's hard to tell since it seems to have been completely encased in a wind of the long slim rope. The result however is that his legs are spread apart, leaving him horribly exposed. He has a fleeting instinct and finds even a small attempt to draw his legs together results in a sharp painful stick to the inside of his knee, likely the result of the piece of container being broken or blown apart to that length. Well isn't that just ducky… Julian exhales sharply half considering rolling over then blanching as he realizes just exactly how that would leave him looking even if he could manage such a feat. He considers the Kironide, of course. He would be a fool not to. As loathe as he would be to possibly poison himself due to ingestion, it might in fact allow him the ability to free himself without the use of his hands. The dust is everywhere, after all and depending on how desperate the situation gets it might just warrant-

"I've heard you humans say that patience is a virtue," he hears Garak's voice slither through the cold air coiling a chill around him, sounding far darker than he's ever heard him sound before. "But I've often found in my life virtues to be little more than platitudes- pithy sayings to keep the masses in line- especially Bajorans." Julian watches Garak step forward, his eyes still with that red sclera, concerning him that he may be experiencing some hemorrhagic fever or possibly worse. Of course it has to be the Kironide. Pray it's only blood vessels but still, if there's any alteration to the integrity of the cells he could very well be in quite a great deal of danger if the cell membranes are- "Would you say that you're a virtuous man, Doctor Bashir?" Garak asks him conversationally. Julian half expects to see some menacing weapon in his hands but instead is surprised to find Garak calmly walking in front of him examining the ropes. Julian hesitates, unsure if there's supposed to be a right or wrong answer to that question. Garak is inscrutable at the best of times and he can't even begin to imagine what thoughts could be running through his head at present.

Garak seems to read that indecision perfectly.

"Oh come now, doctor, after everything that you and I have shared together, there's no need to be so reticent now is there?" He doesn't quite glance to the juncture of Julian's spread legs but somehow it seems that his eyes glance there. Julian winces as he instinctively moves to close his legs. "I can assure you there's no right or wrong answer. No lies, no falsehoods that you need concern yourself with. One might even say that the greatest asset to our relationship is that it's built upon one beautiful lie after another." Garak, Julian notes, has found himself another long rebar- at least that's how it appears- and he's tracing patterns in that find Kironide grit beneath them both. He trails that point closer until it brushes the side of Julian's foot. Julian's breath hitches but aside from those few sluggish shifts as his muscles try and respond, he has little ability to move any of his limbs. He nearly holds his breath when that scrape lifts a little to his calf, leaving a faint streak of rest dust that vaguely resembles spots of blood on his skin.

"Garak-"

"I do hope that you'll spare us both the indignity of such cliché entreaties as telling me that I don't know what I'm doing or begging me to untie you." Julian's eyes remain fixed on that tip as it moves to the juncture where the bar is bound between his knees.

"I suppose that would be rather pointless, wouldn't it?" Because clearly whatever is affecting him is not subject to any sort of reason or else he wouldn't be in this position to begin with. He's got a strong mind, and whatever is wrong it's bridged to perfectly logical conclusions in his thought process no matter how irrational they may seem to anyone else. And given all that you've likely little chance to reason with him unless you can figure out what he's thinking and why. Yes, brilliant, and while you're at it, perhaps you might wrest the gun away from his grasp and save the day.

"I'm glad we understand each other, doctor."

"Doctor? Are we back to all that now? I thought we'd at least become familiar enough with each other to drop the formalities."

"Very good, Julian," Garak praises him, drawing that point up the inside of his thigh, his control of the tension slipping just enough to allow it to scratch, to bite into that sensitive skin. Julian bites back any embarrassing sounds with a slow breath out, staring at the rock beside him, watching the pattern of the Sedinium peering through. "Yes, we are on more familiar terms, more intimate terms. It's always a wise strategy to appeal to that sentiment in a situation such as this one but I'm afraid that I have some bad news for you, Julian." There a particularly nasty emphasis to his name that makes Julian sluggishly turn his head, still feeling it far too heavily rolling around atop his neck.

"What are you talking about, Garak?"

"Oh the sincerity, Julian, I could almost believe you. Why don't we try this." Julian is tense. He can feel every muscle locked and in spite of his intellectualizing of the act, of the fact that it is nothing but a piece of metal brushing his penis he cannot seem to remember to keep breathing. "Is this the same intimacy that you shared with Dukat, my dear? Is that it?"

Julian freezes. Dukat… Dukat… what the devil is a Dukat? Is that someone he knows? A human? A Cardassian? A bloody Romulan!? Dear God he has gone mad. You're dead. You're a damn dead man, Julian if he thinks somehow that you've-

"God if I tell you I've never even heard of that person before you won't even begin to believe me will you?" Julian rushes out feeling that rod start to trail painfully, digging in deeper, pulling a whimper from his throat as that delicate skin is scratched. Garak pulls it back and Julian can imagine a thin red line down. He feels that heat stinging sharp pulsing hot, surely bleeding out in a tickle contrasting that pain. He can't squirm, and as locked tight as his muscles feel he can see that they've hardly responded.

"Now that, my dear, is the first rule of the business. Never believe what a customer tells you about his measurements. You see, he will always deceive, always try to trick what one's eyes can clearly see. And that is where it's up to the tailor to take a measure of a man… and see where the truth lies."

"And what is it that your eyes can clearly see, Garak?" Julian asks affecting the best clinical doctor tone that he can. His voice cracks on Garak's name.

"I can see," Garak expression seems unsteady though Julian is loathe to look too long. "I can see… that you're afraid, Julian," he says softly, his voice the reassuring whisper of a father to a frightened child and it makes Julian's blood chill culminating with an involuntary shiver up his spine.

"I may have made my peace with my own mortality, but that doesn't mean I fancy you slowly flaying the skin from my hide."

"Now why ever would I do something so barbaric?" Because you've gone completely king mad, is what's on the tip of Julian's tongue when Garak begins another slow drag of that sharp tip to the inside of his other thigh drawing perilously higher. He can't manage more than a feeble twitch of his hands still as he tries to press harder back against the rock. "Ah, now there's the artistry in the tailor's craft, my dear. One need not expend unnecessary energy in creating the sketches if one can make that ignorant patron believe without a doubt in their mind that you have the ability, that you have the skill to bring every one of those promises to life."

Julian can feel that point scratching his left testicle can feel it wind a lazy way back up again, that sharp shallow sting to his sac making him bit his lip, and try not to hyperventilate when Garak brings the point down.

"Why tell me that?" he asks, again, clinging to those words in desperation. "Why give away such a valuable psychological trick?" He watches that long length leading down between his legs, how Garak has come to let it lazily rest on the bar between his knees, turning that stylus slowly, idly, like an artist's compass held fixed at one point while the other circles. He can feel it dipping down closer, not able to see where it ends, only feel that sharpness as it brushes the skin right before his hole. Julian's jaw is tense and he can feel the sweat of his palms behind his back. Dear God, Julian stop thinking about it he's not going to.. he's not going to do anything of that sort, didn't he just tell you that you need to think! You need to stop focusing on that distraction, you need to let yourself process just… Stop! Thinking. About. It.

"Because it doesn't matter if I tell you." Julian shuts his eyes find that only makes it worse, that is only heightens the painful sensation that grows, blossoming out with each new scratch, each needle sharp sting. "It doesn't matter what I tell you." Garak is careful not to graze the same spot twice, careful to draw back, to let that fine point stick each time only a millimeter at most to his dick, to that quivering retracted shaft. "Just you as you know that my belief in your treachery, in your infidelity, is resolute, so do I know that your belief in my actions is equally unwavering." He imagines the sight, a hundred sharp little red dots over the service as Garak expands that radius outward. "You believe, each time that I draw back, that I move further from your precious manhood that it's only a break until I draw closer once more. And you would be correct." When those pokes hit his thighs they go deeper, sharper, they twist just slightly until he finds himself struggling for breath.

"I can tell by the way your stomach tenses with that sound of the rope, that you believe there follows a painful prick even when I don't touch you. Julian hears the slide of the metal over the wound rope as it slides back and forth, every slide making the pit of his stomach feel about to drop out, in a hateful confirmation of that statement. "And you also believe, my dear Julian- and I can tell by your pallor, by your sweat, by the very smell of your fear- that any moment I'm going to take this little phallic substitution and ram it as deep and as hard as I can and... Have I ever told you that I once made a man confess his true... measurements merely by looking at him for four hours?"

Garak doesn't yell, he doesn't raise his voice but instead grows even quieter and Julian wonders, as he feels a nauseous tickle starting in the back of his throat down deep to his stomach if this may not just be some miserable hallucination that clawed its way to the surface from some sick part of his psyche.

"You know, Garak… the fundamental problem with torture as a means of interrogation is that the… subject I mean they've concluded scientifically… I don't know how they came to such conclusion or from where the studies originated since I can't see the Federation okay maybe Section 31 but I still can't see such a thing sanctioned today but they've concluded that a man or… or a woman of course, mustn't forget women, will confess to anything, will admit to anything under torture in order to get the pain to stop and in fact ah… Garak?" He trails off seeing that Garak doesn't seem to be particularly interested, in fact, Julian can see him having retreated back, idly going to Julian's bag. There's a heavy, almost overly dramatic sigh in response.

"I must say, while I find human curiosity and interest in moral and ethical arguments completely fascinating at times, there are others such as these where I cannot help but think them tedious." Julian cannot see what he's looking for specifically though he has an unsettling hunch.

Garak stands holding the wrap of instruments, selecting a scalpel.

"You seem to have a somewhat suspect familiarity with torture, doctor that I find refreshing for one in the medical profession, but do you understand the Cardassian legal system?" It seems an odd non sequitur. Garak takes a bottle of alcohol and cloth to sterilize the blade.

"I ah… can't say that I have. Perhaps we could talk about it?"

"Oh we will," Garak agrees. "Though I imagine you mean that suggestion far differently than my intent." He finishes cleaning the scalpel neatly. "That is what we in the business would call a stall tactic, from your point of view."

"The clothing industry?" Julian asks, eyes never leaving that blade.

"Of course." Garak sounds almost affronted. "What else could I possibly mean?"

"I can't... I can't begin to imagine."

"Now as I was saying, the Cardassian legal system is a work of art, for you see, where in say, your Federation one has this adversarial legal system, this messy trial of he said she said, evidence, preponderance of the evidence, all that extraneous nonsense, we on Cardassia are concerned with only one critical matter; justice."

"Generally justice as I understand it does not involve torturing innocent… ha…tsss…" Julian feels the sharp bite of the blade across his skin as Garak, sitting comfortably, companionably beside him, leans forward and cuts into the top of his foot almost experimentally.

"Ah yes, the notion that the rights of one innocent hypothetical trump the integrity of the state as a vehicle of infallibility. It's a wonder you don't have complete anarchy. It's such a pleasure to see a man who takes such good care of the instruments of his profession as you." Julian doesn't answer immediately, throat straining not to cry out again. Garak clucks his tongue in admonition as he watches the blood flow down Julian's foot. "Oh don't worry about offending my hearing with your screams, my dear, I assure you, I'm a consummate professional and have every ability to continue our delightful chat through your expressions of pain. It does hurt doesn't it?" Garak turns, looking at him curiously and Julian tries to jerk his head forward, deciding through that heat that he doesn't care if Garak's in his right mind or not he's going to break his nose on his forehead.

He twitches faintly, another strangled cry escaping him as Garak returns his attention down.

"You're enjoying this, God I swear you're enjoying this even if you've gone mad as a bloody bag of frogs I don't- gaa… haa… haa…" He nearly swallows his tongue, that blade curving elegantly around the bone of his ankle, stopping short of the back and he's terrified that Garak may very well decide to cut that tendon.

"As I was saying, Julian, The State naturally must maintain its image as a pillar of justice and as you might imagine in that case everyone brought to trial is met with swift immediate punishment. Now…" Julian's head tips back against the rock, harder than he would've thought, the thud dull, the pain seeming heightened for God only knows what reason as Garak crawls to the other foot. He pauses to allow Julian a few more pitiful guttural claws of sound from his throat. "Since you've kindly established for me, the folly of probing you further on the whys and the hows of your alliance with my greatest enemy, I don't see any point in asking any unnecessary questions do you? I really have very little interest in hearing the details of your liasions." There is a please caught on Julian's lips, a frantic part of him wondering if he does begin begging if there won't be some merciful part of Garak that won't snap to his senses and stop.

He can feel, as he tries to move his arms, to flex his fingers, that he has some functionality returning and he immediately stops, not daring to let Garak see that he can move anything yet. God say something Julian, think of something anything that will make him stop. Does he want a confession? Or will a confession make him kill you? Does he want your screams your repentance, does he want you to apologize for letting this Dukat flavored whatever you behind his bloody back?! God I can't... I don't know I can't...

"I'm sorry," He pushes out instead, not wanting to even look down at his feet and see the cross of all those slices marking him, marking his soles, stinging painful agony as his raw skin bleeds out onto the Kironide dusting the floor.

"Very good, Julian," Garak purrs, setting his right foot back down drawing another painful whimper from him. "The right amount of contrition, yet admitting no fault, pitiful, pathetic, pleading, I do appreciate your tact." Julian watches him warily, vision wet, fuzzy, and he can feel wetness on his face that he blinks away. "Say it again, my dear, make me believe it." He doesn't even sound pleased. He sounds detached, clinical, like Julian telling a patient they've got a cold. Yes, take an aspirin and call me in the morning. Tell me you're sorry, make me believe it, make sure you're drinking plenty of fluids. He swallows down a strange burble of laughter, that hitch in his voice seeming to be nothing more than another mark that Garak ticks off some mental list.

"I'm sorry."

"Mmm, not quite, I think I need to know what you're sorry for."

"Everything."

"No, that's still not it."

"I'm sorry for... for hurting you."

"Oh you're so close." Garak draws the blunt end of the scalpel up his shin and over his knee.

"Now I don't doubt your sincerity, of course, I'm sure that you're absolutely ashamed for even the very breaths that you breathe, but that does lead us back to that matter of justice. You see, Julian, there are two main parts of the trial in our little Cardassian microcosm here. First we have the confession, and then naturally it must follow, the redemption via punishment." Julian can feel the blunt of that scalped to the inside of his left thigh, tracing over the scabbing wounds until that blunt blade reaches his bloodied genitals.

"Garak I... if I tell you that it's the Kironide, that you're not in your right mind, that I've no ill intent toward you at all-"

"You know, Julian, there are two parts of a man's anatomy that I'm often beseeched the most not… make adjustments to…"

"Garak please…"

"Ah now there's that please I was waiting for." Julian feels the turn of the blade slow, light, not hard enough to cut yet already brushing sensitive painful wounds. "Now there's the first."

"Please… just think about-"

"Would you care to venture a guess," Garak moves the scalpel suddenly up to the side of Julian's face rather neatly illustrating the other, "the second of these they beg me not to alter the most?"

"Julian!" it's Molly's voice that he hears down the tunnel. His eyes snap open and his head jerks up, the sharp blade breaking into his cheek down to the bone and he cannot help but scream his throat raw at that pain. Garak turns towards the source of that sound and Julian seems him talking agitated, more towards himself than even Julian.

"Of course, of course, Elim you had to know it was just another setup, another trick, another layer in the game. And Dukat isn't that smart, it has to be Tain, it has to be Tain." Julian watches the scalpel fall to the ground, vision swimming. Garak getting to his feet drawing his gun.

"It was Tain, wasn't it?!" He yells at Julian head turning wildly.

"Molly!" Julian ignores that question, knowing a warning may very well mean the death of them both, knowing he may well not even get out more than one other words before Garak decides to just plant a bullet between his eyes. But he knows that one word, that one code that he taught both her and her brother as children, should that day ever come that- "Moonraker!"

He expects a bullet, his throat to be slit, some retribution or another, but instead he sees Garak not even pay him any attention, still talking to himself, throwing himself behind one of the broken cargo containers when there's a shot fired in. And then another shot, Garak retreating back further and further until he disappears into the darkness of the far tunnel. Well, Julian, that was supposed to be "run and get help" but they did have to grow up sometime. He breathes a sigh of relief that only lasts as long as it takes him to glance down at his naked tied form, covered in blood and welts and remember as that brief flush of adrenaline deserts him just how much everything hurts, how much his face hurts, and he almost feels another urge to vomit. He doesn't even dare look at his feet which still sting like a thousand fire ants biting at once, stomach roiling angrily.

And as he sees Molly rush in frantically, both guns drawn followed by Yoshi and Jadzia, he decides that it would have been better if Garak had killed him after all.