Twelve
I cannot wait to have a shower.
Julian gazed down, ignoring the trickle of blood that made its way along his brow. It dripped into his lap, quickly disappearing into the black fabric of his suit. He could no longer tell which patches of blood were his, and which ones had once belonged to Garak.
How many days had it been? Had it even been days since he was first brought here? He was quickly losing track. But that was to be expected when he kept being beaten into unconsciousness.
His hands never stopped aching. Although he couldn't see the damage Martin had inflicted, every movement reminded him of the thousands of cuts that now littered his skin. Every assault on his body caused him to inadvertently clench his hands, exacerbating the incisions that decorated the appendages. In a way, he was glad that he couldn't talk, as the skin around and under his chin throbbed every time he attempted to move his mouth. The lack of chattering meant these wounds had had some chance to heal; a few had reopened, despite his forced silence, mostly in part to his attempting to scream during one of Martin's "sessions".
Starfleet Academy had had a mandatory course on hostage situations. In a controlled holodeck environment, students were subjected to a variety of potential scenarios and outcomes, most of which were no more serious than being locked behind a force field. Julian remembered one or two assessments that involved escaping handcuffs, though despite his genetic enhancements, he could never get his fingers to work fast enough to allow him to escape within the allotted time frame. Any injuries sustained during the simulations were little more than grazes and cuts, apart from the occasional sore wrists from prolonged time in restraints.
Nothing in that course, he had decided, was relevant to his current situation.
Although psychology wasn't his field of specialty, Julian had quickly decided Martin fell into either the psychopathy or sociopathy category. The way he twisted words and phrases to berate him rivalled Garak's abilities; it was almost poetic how he could taunt and insult someone. When Martin grew tired of talking, which usually only took a few minutes, the beatings usually began. Sometimes he would reopen lacerations that had begun to heal only hours before, slicing through the newly-regenerated scar tissue and allowing Julian's blood to freely escape his tortured body. Other times he would resort to pure violence; Martin's fists would pound the doctor's body relentlessly, his knuckles quickly leaving noticeable damage.
It wasn't long before Julian experienced his first broken rib.
It was even quicker when Julian experienced his first time having broken ribs.
Periods of consciousness came sporadically. He was sure by now that he had a concussion; most of his efforts were focused on trying not to vomit, as if the thought of choking to death in Quark's holosuite wasn't reason enough to stay alive. Hopefully there's no permanent damage after this; I think my brain still works.
The rag inside his mouth brushed against the top of his throat; Julian inadvertently went to cough, groaning as he felt yet another laceration burst under the pressure. I really hope the dermal regenerator can fix all of this. He unconsciously went to flex his fingers, wincing as he felt the cuts along the crevices in his hands bleed anew. Where the hell is Odo? Surely him and Miles would've found a way to break in here by now-
"Doctor?"
It was a distant call in an unsteady voice, but Julian heard it nonetheless. His heart instantly rose. Thank the stars! Someone is looking for me! He refused to consider the possibility that he was mistaking it for someone else. It couldn't be anyone else. It has to be…oh, please, please be him.
He instantly raised his head from his chest, looking out into the gloominess of the cave. "Mhmm!" Oh please, please be him…
"Doctor?" Garak's voice sounded slightly louder, but it still wasn't clear how far away he was.
Curse that Cardassian hearing of his. Julian realised he had to attempt to grunt louder, even though his throat was already raw. At this rate I won't be able to talk, even after I'm rescued. "Mmphk!"
A short pause followed. "…Doctor? Are you there?"
Julian rolled his eyes. This is going to take forever. "Mhmmhmhm! Mmphk!"
The silence that followed seemed like an eternity. He started to see a glimpse of Garak's shadow on the wall of a nearby passage.
"Doctor?"
Julian slumped back in his chair, a wave of rage pouring over him. Oh, come on Garak! Use that damn brain of yours. "Mhmmhm!"
Garak's footsteps stopped abruptly. "Julian?"
"Mmphk!"
"Doctor!" Garak instantly picked up his pace. Within a matter of seconds he had rounded the corner, but quickly proceeded to head down the wrong passageway.
Julian instantly began to panic as he watched his rescuer walk away. No, no, I'm here! I'm here! Don't leave me! Garak!
"Doctor?"
"Mmphk! Mmm!" Garak! Wrong way!
Fortunately he seemed to have re-attracted Garak's attention. The Cardassian walked back along the corridor, his head instantly turning in Julian's direction. His expression softened upon seeing the struggling young man. "Doctor! Thank goodness…"
Julian sagged in his bonds. The relief of rescue had quickly begun to settle in; he could feel his emotional defences wearing thin, tears threatening to leak out of his eyes. Oh my… Garak…I can't believe you're alive. How are you alive?!
Garak quickened his pace, crossing the distance between him and Julian in a matter of seconds. He descended to his knees to meet Julian's eye level. The relief and concern in his eyes was evident, though Julian still noticed a trickle of blood along the side of his face. His left cheek was badly grazed, and a faint bruise was appearing over his forehead ridge. "Doctor, are you alright?"
Julian nodded feverishly. It took him a moment to realise he was crying. The tears on his face were quickly washing away the blood from Martin's most recent assault, with murky red streams running down his cheeks and soaking into the bandages.
Garak used a section of his sleeve to brush the tear-stained blood aside, being careful to avoid the lacerations across his face. The older man became increasingly concerned as he eyed the intricate lacework pattern of these cuts. "How much did they hurt you?"
Julian allowed his head to sag as sobs wracked his shivering frame. Garak, you have no idea. "Mmhmhm." He made a point of struggling in his bonds, wincing at the pain it caused him to do so. Take these off me already!
It would seem Garak understood his friend's distress, for he made no snide remarks about Julian's lack of conversation. "Allow me, doctor."
The bandages were peeled away slowly, despite trying to tell Garak not to be careful with them. A long moan of discomfort escaped Julian's mouth as the last of the bandages were peeled away. His first instinct was to open his mouth, attempting to expel the cloth within. It took Garak a moment to understand before he reached in and removed the remaining part of the gag.
Julian gasped. His throat was painfully dry, all the saliva having been soaked by the cloth. Air that passed through his lips caused pain. He couldn't help but hiss through his teeth as his stiff jaw clicked, the sudden intake of air across the enamel sending a cold rush along his nerves. He felt the remaining skin on his lips crack as he desperately tried to speak, but nothing came out. I knew it.
"A moment, doctor," Garak reached into his jacket, his hand emerging with a flask. He unscrewed the lid and gently lifted it to Julian's lips. "I happened to 'acquire' this while escaping my captors. There's not much left, but it should be enough to restore your voice."
Julian didn't hear him; Garak could've been giving him Romulan ale, for all he cared. He gulped greedily, with water spilling on his clothes as he attempted to inhale it. It was only with Garak's intervention that he stopped drinking. The young man looked longingly at the flask, desperate to quench his thirst.
"Patience, doctor. We don't want you making yourself ill," Garak said kindly. He glanced over his shoulder. "We should hurry. They'll be aware of my escape at any moment."
"…They told me you were dead," Julian's voice was so soft that he wasn't sure if Garak had heard him at first, but the tailor had abruptly stopped. A sympathetic look from his rescuer encouraged him to persevere with his weak voice. "..They s-shot you in front of m-me…I-I have your blood…on my clothes-"
Garak gently placed a hand on Julian's shoulder. "It was a holographic version of me. I assure you, doctor, I am quite unharmed. They had me restrained in another room until I was able to escape."
"H-how'd you know…I was here?" Julian croaked. "I've b-been…here nearly three days…I think…" Garak had set about untying his hands, and the feeling of blood returning to his fingers was invigorating, but also agonising as fresh waves of pain returned to his damaged nerves.
"It seemed to be almost a part of the program, but I happened to have overheard some of our abductors discussing how to proceed with…" Garak's voice faltered. "…with disposing of you. I believe I've spent a number of hours exploring these caves, hoping you would be in one of them."
Julian instantly began to panic. "W-we have to get out-"
"Trust me, doctor, we will soon be on our way," Garak discarded the rope around Julian's wrists. He was glad the doctor couldn't see his pained look as he examined the raw, weeping rope burns that wrapped around each wrist. Julian's captor hadn't even bothered to wrap the restraints over the top of his jacket. The skin around both wounds felt warm to touch; Garak wasn't sure if it was a normal human temperature, or if Julian would soon be developing a fever.
The tailor's eyes were once again drawn to the intricate cuts that decorated almost every part of Julian's hands; each was only a few centimetres long, but were strategically placed along every crease and crevice. Some were superficial, others ran deep into the layers of human skin that Garak couldn't pronounce. He quickly concluded that some of Julian's nerves had been damaged, assuming that human and Cardassian ligaments were the same colour, and assuming that the anatomy he was currently examining correctly matched with his limited knowledge of humans.
Much to Garak's disgust, he realised this that man would have been a useful asset to the Obsidian Order, had he been a Cardassian.
Despite having tortured hundreds of people during his time in the Order, Garak had never seen the aftermath of torturing a human before, and it made him nauseous. Whoever had committed such an act was clearly skilled in the art of causing pain. In this instance, putting more emphasis on the "art" component. "I don't suppose you could enlighten me as to who it was who inflicted such violence on you?"
Julian's breath hitched. "…Remember that girl? P-Palis?" His voice faltered and he coughed, attempting to find the moisture needed to get his damn vocal cords to work. "…Her f-father-"
His voice quickly disappeared, leading Garak to provide him with another sip of the water flask, but the tailor was quick to work out Julian's words. "I'm assuming he has returned to extract revenge on you in some degree, yes?"
Not trusting his voice, Juilan nodded. He felt his shoulders relax as Garak finished releasing his hands, letting out a strangled gasp of relief as he half-pulled, half-dragged his arms in front of him. His hands trembled violently as he attempted to inspect the damage done to them, though he could hardly lift them with completely numb biceps; he remained in that position for some time, impatiently awaiting the revival of his tendons. "…Where is Odo?"
"I am unsure as to the whereabouts of the good constable, doctor," Garak began working on the bonds around Julian's legs. "Though I suspect there must be something preventing his entering the program and performing a dashing rescue."
"..Would've appreciated one…yesterday…"
Garak smirked. "I believe dashing rescues are most Starfleet's forté, wouldn't you say?"
"..How do we get out of here then?" Julian painfully rotated his shoulders forward, attempting to distract himself from the rising pins and needles. The appearance of sharp spasms in his shoulder blades told him that he had either strained or torn both trapezius muscles. He grimaced as they twinged painfully. Hopefully I won't be needing to climb any ladders anytime soon…
"I have two suspicions, doctor. The first being that we simply use violence and my cunning wit to outsmart our captors, and use whatever knowledge your Starfleet engineering courses gave you to release the lock on the holosuite."
"You clearly…have high expectations of me," Julian rasped, hoping his sarcasm was carried across. "And the second?"
"We have to 'play along', as it were," Garak threw aside the ropes around Julian's knees, setting to work on his ankles. "The mastermind of this program has clearly written it to play out as a typical 'capture and rescue' scenario. I suspect we will soon be having a confrontation with the creator soon."
Julian couldn't suppress a shudder. He quickly began hoping that Garak was wrong, and they could slip out of the program without Martin ever finding them. If my current streak of luck is anything to go by, it won't be an easy escape.
