A wet cough escaped Julian's lips when he sat up. Blood has spurted all over his worn out uniform. His ribcage ached, though hopefully not for long. His bones would knit themselves back together, but a painful process nonetheless.
The first time around was the most painful, probably because he wasn't prepared for it, nor did he expect it. He'd been foolish to believe that he had figured out every augmentation his parents had done to hin. No, not foolish, but egotistical. Pompous. Arrogant. Vain. Jadzia would be able to produce several more, all the while flashing him a teasing smile.
Foolishness would be him thinking that it'd be possible to escape this never ending nightmare.
And foolish he was each time. Each time that he felt his last breath leave his lungs, he hoped that this would be the last time. The last time he closed his eyes. The last death.
And each time, he returned, his body battered and bruised, but still there. Still alive.
His first death had been the result of a beating from several Jem Hadar. He had mouthed off and evidently caught them when their blood lust was running high. By the end of it, he'd had many broken bones, a possibly ruptured spleen, and a concussion. He'd died quite quickly, and came to when Martok was in the middle of bellowing, which would've been a high compliment, seeing as it was a rite for warriors, but he'd been in far too much pain to appreciate it in the moment.
Martok, was naturally confused by Julian's resurrection, as was Julian. He'd been able to convince the both of them that his body had somehow fallen into a coma of some sorts, which was why there had been no signs of life.
The second time he came back, Martok demanded answers.
Telling Martok about his augmentations was easier than he expected. Perhaps it was because Martok didn't pay and judgment to him, perhaps it was just nice to finally tell someone about what his parents had done to him.
Tain knew, because of course he did. How he knew, and why he hadn't shared that information with anyone, was something that Tain declined to share, which sent Julian into a tizzy. Had he tracked down one of the doctors who had operated on him and convinced them to talk? How would he have even gotten that information anyway?
Knowing that Tain knew also raised the question of if Garak knew. Odds were, he could have an inkling about it, but wouldn't know for sure. Tain had an arsenal of resources available for spying, whereas Garak had only himself. If Garak wanted to find out, he'd have to dig — deep.
Dig deep into the fabricated medical records that not even Starfleet batted an eye at. Dig into the falsified papers his parents procured from Adigeon Prime.
Even then, there was little to go off of. His parents had gone to great lengths to cover their tracks. Garak would have a very hard time of finding any information if he were to do it himself, his parents had made sure of it.
Julian wondered if his parents knew that one of his augmentations was apparent immortality. Surely that would've been to risky even for them to choose? There would be too high a risk for someone finding out at some point, be it a natural death or through a freak accident. No, it must've been an augmentation added without their knowledge or had accidentally happened as a result of his other enhancements. Perhaps a side effect of the one that allowed him to heal quickly from more superficial injuries. That one, his parents still claimed was just him having a healthy immune system.
That other enhancement hadn't applied to more severe injuries, likely why he'd been able to "die" at all. Throughout all his deaths (how many had it been? Four? Five?), he'd suffered countless broken bones and internal injuries. But the injuries themselves somehow weren't the most painful.
What had to be the most painful was either not getting the release of death, or the healing process following his resurrection. Knowing each time that he would have to live through the beatings and misery again and again, for who knows how long, was torture.
But the feeling of his bones knitting back together, the crunching noises he heard during it. The tearing inside him as his organs tried to regenerate themselves too quickly… He thought he'd known true pain in the past, but clearly he didn't. He'd never watched his limbs contort themselves from a previously twisted state to their natural placement, but he did many times throughout his imprisonment.
But his body wasn't able to do it all correctly, no. His fingers still were somewhat bent out of shape from the many times they'd been broken. Bruises still showed up on his body from blood leaking out of his spleen. One leg appeared to be longer than the other after healing incorrectly one too many times. His vision was blurry several times a day from the numerous concussions he'd received.
He couldn't die and was stuck with a broken body as a result.
Several heavy footprints and hushed voices nearby jolted Julian from his thoughts, and he sat up shakily. His mouth felt sticky with blood and his body was screaming at him to lay back down, but he stood up nonetheless. He couldn't afford to be weak. Even if his body was mutilated and he would be sent to prison when this was over, he still had patients to attend to. He was still a doctor, and he had to do what was needed to get his fellow prisoners out of this alive.