A/N: Writers' block has been conquered. I'm not happy with this chapter, but the plot needed to move along somehow...
Nine
How the hell did she get into this program? Is it even her?
"I don't recall her ever appearing in our lunchtime discussions," Garak admitted.
"We were engaged while I was still at the academy," Julian whispered hurriedly. "I'll explain later, but right now-"
"I know you want to rush down there and save her, but think about this, doctor," Garak put a hand on Julian's shoulder. "For all we know, this could be—"
"Garak!" Julian recoiled. He glared at Garak, a determined glint in his eyes. "I don't give a damn if that's the real Palis or not; I'm not just going to sit here and watch a woman I once loved be assaulted in such a manner!"
Garak went to tighten his grip, but the young doctor was quicker. Before the tailor could react, Julian had already begun racing towards the village. Eyes firmly glued to Palis's lifeless form, he thrashed aside the branches blocking his path, the loud cracks of subsequent branch snaps inaudible through the blood roaring in his ears. I swear, if this is the real Palis, these bastards will pay…
The man currently atop Palis was grinning as his pants and undergarments fell to his knees, dignity only protected by the hem of his wrinkled shirt. He pulled passionately at her skirt, as if eager to devour her honour. The second man knelt at Palis's side, running his hand lustfully along the buttons of her blouse.
Julian let out a growl of anger as he charged at the men, throwing his full weight directly at the main assailant. The man grunted as he was flung flat onto the pavement, Julian's torso pinning him down. Julian took the opportunity to throw multiple punches to the man's face, his nose quickly becoming a bloody pulp.
A sudden strike from the second man knocked Julian to the ground, his breath escaping from him. Julian was quickly overwhelmed by a rapid succession of kicks to the stomach, each strike seemingly connecting with a different rib. Bile rose into his throat; he retched as the following strike connected with his stomach.
The first man managed to regain his footing, hurriedly pulling up his pants. He grimaced as he delicately wiped his nose on the sleeve of his shirt. "Get this piece of shit up."
Julian gasped, coughing violently as he rolled to the side. The second man tucked his hands under Julian's armpits and hoisted him off the ground, fingers digging into his flesh.
Spitting in front of Julian, the main assailant glared at him intently. "You bastard…"
A blow to the groin left the young doctor gasping for air, nausea bubbling in his throat. He instinctively tried to cover the affected area, momentarily forgetting that his arms were being tightly restrained. God almighty, that hurts…
A second thought occurred to him. Why hasn't Garak helped me yet? He tried to turn his head to look over at where he and Garak had been hiding, only for the main assailant to grab his chin and force their eyes to meet.
"Listen," Julian gasped, "I don't w-want any trouble…just let her go-"
"And ruin our fun? Not a chance, you git," The main assailant sneered. "I intend to have my way with that gorgeous little lady, whether she's yours or not."
Another blow to his stomach caused Julian to involuntarily retch, the little water he had consumed earlier in the day making a reappearance onto his shoes. His throat burned painfully and his eyes watered.
Julian suddenly found himself falling to the ground, having apparently been released. He wiped his mouth on his hand and looked up to find that everything had seemingly happened at once. The assailant who had been restraining him was now unconscious, sprawled out on the ground with blood trickling from a clearly-broken nose.
What made Julian's eyes widen was the sight of Garak, who currently had the main assailant's neck in his hands. His teeth were bared as he squeezed into the man's flesh with pure rage, a slight growl accompanying the victim's gargles as his eyes bulged.
The sight of the dying man was frightening enough, but what made Julian really disgusted was that Garak seemed to be enjoying his act of attempted murder. The malice in his expression was becoming more obvious by the second, serving as a grim reminder that Julian really didn't know much about Garak before his exile. I hope he didn't do this regularly.
The assailant's face was turning grey, his eyes beginning to flutter.
"Garak!" Julian gasped. "Stop it! Let him go!"
Garak either ignored him or didn't hear his pleas. If anything, he began to squeeze harder, his knuckles turning white with effort.
Julian's face paled as he attempted to hoist himself up. His arms quivered under his weight; he heaved for breath, despite his best efforts to regain control of his breathing. "Garak!"
Neither doctor nor Cardassian noticed the second pair of men approach. One crept towards Julian from behind, silently pouring a bottle of liquid over a ragged handkerchief; the other brandished a well-worn revolver, swiftly raising it from the interior of his coat.
A loud shot rang out in the darkness, though Julian wasn't sure where it had come from. He jumped as he registered a body dropping in his peripheral vision, the strangled, wet gasp confirming that it was the assailant. He weakly gazed up at Garak, opening his mouth to chide the tailor, only for his jaw to drop.
The river of life flowed from Garak's chest, his crisp white shirt steadily growing darker. His eyes fluttered closed as he dropped.
Garak!
Julian let out an inhumane roar of anguish. Tears sprang from his eyes as he leapt forward, only to be restrained by unseen hands. A damp, foul-smelling cloth was pressed to his mouth; he nearly choked on the fumes.
He allowed the last of the light to be consumed, the darkness overwhelming him in seconds.
Now, I have the worst headache. Bloody hell…
He gradually opened his eyes. His head was spinning so badly he perceived the outrageous notion that it could fly off into orbit. His mouth felt like cotton, and he fought to control the rising nausea. This is why chloroform should be illegal.
It took him some time before he felt it safe to raise his head. All he had been able to gather so far was that he was seated on a chair, which wasn't much to go on.
Julian instinctively went to stretch this shoulders, only for them to remain fixed in place. At first he thought he was inside a restraining field, but then it came back to him; this was twentieth-century Earth, and therefore such technology wasn't available. He confirmed his own theory by looking down to find ropes wrapped around his chest.
He should've realised by looking at his legs that his arms were also restrained in a similar manner, yet he still tugged in the vain hopes of being proven incorrect. He noticed an uncomfortable pressure in and around his mouth. He tried moving his tongue, but found it restricted by an awful-tasting object. Ball of cloth, perhaps? An attempt to lick his lips confirmed his worst fear - he had been bound and gagged. O'Brien would give up all his latinum to see me like this.
Being restrained was of no concern to Julian. He'd been tied up, strapped down and chained in plenty of his spy programs. The one detail always left in those programs, however, was his ability to talk his way out of trouble. Now that ability was gone, and it frightened Julian immensely.
He spent a few moments brooding on his new captivity before he decided to observe his surroundings. It looked he had been tucked in the corner of some sort of cave, with smoky grey rock lining the floor and ceiling. A number of stalagmites hung nearby, some of which had water dripping down them, the sound echoing throughout the chamber. Although he couldn't be certain from his position, there are appeared to be multiple passages and corridors that branched off from his corner.
Should I try attracting attention to myself? Julian crinkled his eyebrows, staring at the bonds around his legs. There's no guarantee Garak made it away, or even that anyone is around. Hell, Garak's probably got no idea where I am.
Wait.
Garak.
He's dead.
Oh, dear Garak…
Alone, cold and afraid, Julian hung his head and began to cry.
The invitation had seemed genuine enough, but he should've known better.
