Eleven
Well that was certainly a plot twist.
"I can imagine you're surprised, and I don't blame you," Martin Delon smirked, adjusting his collar.
He suddenly thrust himself forward and gripped his captive's shoulders. "The nerve of you, Bashir. You had the balls to propose to my daughter before deciding to disappear to the other side of the bloody quadrant!" He struck Julian's nose in a violent, rhythmic fashion. Blood began to spurt freely after the third punch; he blinked furiously to avoid it being flung into his eyes.
Martin sneered. "Did it occur to you for the slightest moment the impact it would have on her?! She had been looking at wedding dresses with her mother, for God's sake! She was ready to drop everything to marry you, you selfish twat!"
Julian's eyes watered. He wasn't sure what hurt more; being subjected to punches from a surgeon's hands, or hearing how his decision had impacted Palis. Wedding dresses…? His brain was fuzzy. We were only engaged for a couple of months, weren't we?
Eyes blazing with fury, Martin snatched Julian by the chin, forcing his head upwards; his nails dug tightly enough into the officer's skin to leave marks. "I offered you the chance of a lifetime. Head of surgery within half a decade, and you threw it away for some godforsaken post in the middle of nowhere!"
Julian narrowed his eyes in defence. I happen to be the CMO on Deep Space Nine, thank you. Much better than some chief of surgery in a random hospital.
Martin leant into Julian's ear, whispering aggressively. "And don't think I didn't notice your little…'gift'."
The world seemed to stop.
Julian's blood instantly froze.
How could he…? I never told Palis!
"Why do you think I offered you that position, hmm? Just because you were dating my daughter?" Martin sneered. "Don't think I didn't miss how you were faster than the other students. How you turned your assignments in earlier. How you graduated first in paediatric medicine, of all things! Most students would struggle, but not you, Bashir. You were special. And there was no way that was natural."
Julian couldn't help himself. He began to hyperventilate through the gag, his chest spasming as he fought for breath. He's not going to kill me; he's going to destroy me.
"As soon as you abandoned Palis, I took the liberty of keeping tabs on you. I watched you graduate. I watched you become salutatorian. And I was right," Martin snarled as he released his grip. "Chief Medical Officer of a bloody space station; not every graduate gets such a distinguishing position, but with you I wasn't surprised. Had you stayed on Earth, I knew you would've become the head of surgery within two years!"
Martin stood back from Julian, removing a matchbox-sized pouch from his pocket. He produced a scalpel from the pouch, gently tilting it so the blade reflected light into the younger man's eyes.
Julian couldn't help but flinch. He knew he had seen this pouch somewhere before, but his brain wouldn't cooperate and retrieve the appropriate memory.
"This belonged to my father," Martin lowered his voice as he twirled the scalpel delicately between his fingers, the blade never touching his skin as it danced in his hand. "I had intended to pass it on to you once you'd become my son-in-law. Of course, I've never used it on a real patient. I never had to. After all, that's why we have laser scalpels these days. The poor bastard under the knife never has to lose a drop."
Martin's grin shone as he traced the scalpel down the right side of Julian's chin, a small trickle of blood escaping from beneath the younger man's skin. The sting made Julian's eyes water, and his body trembled harder as the blade continued downwards towards his throat. No, no, no, no-
As if the man had heard his thoughts, Martin removed the blade as he reached the sternal notch. He made a 'tsk' sound and stared at his handiwork, tucking the hand clutching the scalpel under his chin. "Oh dear, now that's a shame. If only I'd happened to have a laser scalpel on me. I guess now I'll have to continue the procedure without it."
Julian felt his body quiver uncontrollably as the scalpel drew closer. His resolve evaporated as Martin continued his artwork, painting intricate lines of blood across Julian's face. Some followed a straight path, others were ornate in their shape and length. Most were superficial and only provided a sharp sting, but Julian couldn't prevent his muffled cries of pain as some incisions reached the dermal layer of his skin.
"You may have found this program to be somewhat…disjointed? Like it seemed to jump from one point to another? I assure you, it was most intentional," Martin smirked, his eyes focused on Julian's skin. "It was another point I wished to make. The life of a hero is often chaotic and disjointed. After all, a hero is not a man who deliberately goes out of their way to make painful and heartbreaking sacrifices."
Martin removed the scalpel and stepped behind Julian, kneeling down to where his hands were securely bound. He took a moment to admire his rope work, tracing the complex knots that restrained the officer. He ignored Julian's muffled cries of protest as he roughly grabbed his left thumb and swiftly sliced along the lateral and proximal nail folds, leaving deep gashes that freely wept with blood. He grinned and continued his handiwork, creating a network of gashes across both hands.
Julian's resolve crumbled rapidly, and he allowed himself to weep freely, each violation of his skin causing a fresh wave of hopelessness to overcome him. He had expected to be stabbed or have his throat torn open, not to be subjected to such intense torture.
"The price of being a hero is that you have to make unbearable decisions. There is no such thing as a complete resolution," Martin removed the scalpel, wiping the remaining blood on Julian's hair. "Everyone is affected, whether it be the hero himself, or those who were affected as he 'saved' the day."
Julian involuntarily sagged as the scalpel was finally withdrawn from his tortured skin. He could feel each individual incision, his hands trembling uncontrollably. His fingers ached from the powerful throbbing sensations running along his nerves. I will never complain about paper cuts ever again.
"One of these decisions I now present to you, Mister Bashir," Martin quirked his eyebrows with glee. "Either you attempt to escape and risk widening your lacerations, or remain as you are and continue to bleed regardless. I'm almost certain you'll have scarring-"
Martin fell silent as he realised his captive had succumbed to unconsciousness. He violently slapped Julian across the face, yet the younger man barely stirred. "You make an interesting patient, Doctor, but a terrible hero. At least stay conscious long enough to hear the monologue!"
He grabbed Julian's throat and pressed hard into his open incisions, eliciting a mumbled groan from the officer. Tightening his grip caused Julian to begin thrashing, desperate to free himself from Martin's grip. His eyes were alight with pain and confusion as he struggled.
Martin only smirked as he reproduced the scalpel. "I guess my lessons will need some reinforcing."
A/N: Hope I didn't lose anyone with the medical terminology. Being in the industry has its advantages for writing stuff like this.
